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Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, iorsque ceia dtait possible, ces pages uivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 -(/ /sy ♦ '#■ * ♦ I t-' THE BAIRNS. * 4 ^ m il inmi TV . 5c THE BAIRNS: 1 «>f, JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. --/ snt/^y FFO.y CA.v.-in.i. IIV TIIR AITIIOR or "CHRISTIE RKDFKRXS TROUm.ES." WITH FIVE FULL-PACE ILLUSTRATIONS. ^ :', MGHIH EDITION, COMPLETING THE ELEVENTH THOUSAND. H ODDER AND STOUGHTON, 27, PATERNOSTER ROW. IMDCCCLXXVIII. •,» i»«mt . mt,mm miamHmimaimmiimmmmmmm 63 ^ :4 ■%. k I Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Print«rs, London and Aylesbury, •W' CHAPTER I. THE longest clay in all the year was slowly closing over the littlo village of Clayton. There were no loiterers now at the eorncrs of the streets or on the village square — it was too lute for that, though daylight still lingered. Now and then the silence was broken l)y the footsteps of some late home-comer, nnC over more than one narrow close, the Bomid of boyish voices went and came, from gaiTet to gaiTct, teUing that the spirit of slumber had not yet taken possession of the place. But these soon ceased. The wind moved the tall laburnums iu the lane without a sound, and the mm*mur of running water alone broke the stillness, as the gui'glo of the bmii, and the rush of the tlistant mill-dam met and mingled in the air of the summer night. In the primitive village of Clayton, at this midsummer time, gentle and simple were wont to seek their rest by the light of tlie long gloaming. But to-night there was light in the manse — in the minister's study, and in other parts of the house as well. Lights were carried hurriedly past uncur- tamed windows, and flared at last thi'ough the open door, as a woman's anxious face looked out. " What can be keeping him ? " she murmiu-ed, as she shaded the flickering candle and peered out into the gathei'- ing darkness. " It 's no' like him to linger at a time lik» this. God send he was at home." Another moment of eager listening, and then the anxious :«- .TANKT fl LOVK AND BERVIOK. I face was witlulniwu and tlio door closed. Soon a sound broke tho stillnosH of tho villago Btrcot ; a horseman ni«;ht, and had ^^'onc up irCuirH, contr.'M-y to her usiiid cuHtoni, before lier falhor canio homo. Then hIio thon^dit of other tiling's — of the hook Kho had been reading, a wtoiy c)f one who had dared anddono mueh in a righteous eausc — and then she gradually lost sight of tho talc and fell into faneihil inusiiigs about her own f-Uure, and to the building of pleasant rastles, in which she and they whom she loved were to dwell. Sifting in tho firelight, with eyes and lips that smiled, the pleasant fanei(^s eaiiK! and went. Not a shadow crossed her brow. Not a fear came to dim the light l)y which slu^ gazed into tho fiitiu'e that she planned. So she sat tiU her dream was dreamed out, and then, with a sigh, in which thero was no echo of care or pain, she woke to tho present, and turned to her book again. "I might SCO by the lire," sho said, and in a minute she was seated on tho floor, her head loaning on her hands, and her eye fastened on the open page. "Miss Graeme," said Janet, softly coming in with a ,'hild in her anns, " your mamma 's no' wool find here 's wee llosie wakened, and wantin' her. You 'U need to take her, for I maun awa'." The book foil fi'om the gjii-l's hand, as she started up with a frightened face. " What ails mamma, Janet ? Is she very ill ? " " What should ail her but tho one tiling ? " said Janet, im- patiently. " She 11 be bettor the mom I hae nae doul)t." Graeme made no attempt to take tho child, who hold out her hands toward her. ' •*! must go to her, Janet." "Indeed, Miss Graeme, you'll do nothing o' the kind. Mrs. Bunis is with her, and the doctor, and it 's little good you could do her just now. Bide still where you are, and take care o' wee Rosie, and hearken if you hear ony o' the ither bairns, for nono o* you can see your mamma the night." Graeme took her little sister in her armrj, and Rcatod her* ■M*\ Ui ^ I p 10 J .tANET S LOVE Am) SERVICE. self on the floor again. Janet went out, and Graeme lieard her father's voice in the passage. She held her breath to listen, but he did not come in as she hoped he would. She heard them both go up stairs again, and heedless of the prattle of her baby sister, she still listened eagerly. Now and then the sound of footsteps overhead reached her, and irj a little Janet came into the kitchen again, but she did not st«y to be questioned. Then the street door opened, and some one went out, and it seemed to Graeme a long time be- fore she heard another sound. Then Janet came in again, and this time she seemed to have forgotten that there was any one to see her, for she was wringing her hands, and the li'ars were streaming do\vn her cheeks. Graeme's heart stood stiLl, and her white hps could scarcely utter a sound. " Jai et ! — tell mc ! — my mother." " Save us lassie ! I had no mind of you. Bide still. Miss Graeme. You munna go there," for Graemes with her little sis- ter in her arms was hastenmg away. "Your mamma's ^iq waur than she 's been afore. It 's only mo that does na ken about the like o' you. The minister keeps up a gude heart. Gude forgie him and a' mankind." Graeme took a step toward the door, and the baby fright- ened at Janet's unwonted vehemence sent up a shriU cry. But Janet put them both aside, aiid stood with her back against the door. " No' ae step, ]\Iiss Graeme. The auld fule that I am ; 'gin the lassie had been but in her bed. No, I'll no' take the bairn, sit down there, you '11 bo sent for if you 're needed. I '11 be back again soon ; and you'll promise me that you'll no leave this till I bid you. Miss Graeme, I would na deceive you, if I was nL'-cad for youi* mamma. Promise me ihat you 'U bide still." Graeme promised, awed by the earnestness of Janet, and by her own vague terror as to i^ier mother's mysterious sor- row, that could claim from one usually so cahn, sympathy so intense and painful. Then she sat down again to listen and to wait. How long the time see nod ! Tht; Hds fell do'^vii ■«# ♦• ^rn' JANET S LOVE AND SEIiVICE. 11 over the baby's wakeful^ eyes at last, aud Graeme, gatheiing her own frock over the httlc hmbs, and niurmurmg loving words to her darling, hstened still. The flames ceased to leap and glow on llio hearth, the shad- ows no longer danced upon the wall, and gazing at the strange faces and forms that smiled and beckoned to her from the dying embers, still she listened. The red embers faded into white, the dark forest ^vith its smmy glades and long retreating vistas, the hills, and rocks, and ck)uds, and waterfalls, that had risen among them at the v;atcher's wiU, changed to dull grey ashes, and the dim dawn of the summex morning, gleamed in at last upon the weary sleeper. The baljy still nestled m her arms, the golden han of the child gleaming among the dark curLs of the elder sister as their cheeks lay close together. Graeme moaned and murmured in her sleep, and clasped the baby closei, but she did not wake till Janet's voice aroused her. Theie were no tears on her face now, but it was very white, and her voice was low and changed. " I\Iiss Graeme, you are to go to your mamma ; she 's wan tin' you. But mind you are to bo quiet, and think o' your father." Taking the child hi her arms., she tui'ned her back upon the startled girl. Chilled and stiff from her uneasy posture, Graeme strove to rise, and stumbling, caught at Janet's arm. " Mamma is better Janet," she asked eagerly. Janet kept her working face out of sight, and, in a little, answered hoarsely, *• Ay, she '11 soon be better, whatever becomes of the rest of us. But, mind, you are to be quiet. Miss Graeme." Chilled and tremljling, Ca'aemo crept up stairs and through the dim passages to her mother's room. The curtains had been drawn back, and the daylight streamed into the room, but the forgotten candles still ghmmered on the table. There were several people m the room, standing sad and silent aromid the bed. They moved away as she di'ew near. ThcV Graeme saw her motlier's white face on the pillow, and hf\ ^' II " k 2 Janet's love and service. faiiior bcndiiig over her. Even in tlie a^YG and dread that smoto on lier hcvi't like death, she remembered that she must be quiet, and, coming close to the pUlow, she said boftly, "]\Iother." The dying eyes came back fi'Om their wandering, and fas- tened on her darling's face, and the white lips opened with a smile. " Graeme — my ov/n love — I am going away — and they will have no one but you. And I have so much to say to you." So much to say 1 With only strength to ask, " God guide my darling ever ! " and the dying eyes closed, and the smile lin gered upon tlio pale lips, and in the silence that came next, one thought lixcd itself on the heart of the awe-stricken girl, never to be effaced. Her father and his motherless childi'en f.r.d v.ouQ but her to cai'o ^^v them now. : ;f m CHAPTER II. ' ^ "yT 'S a' yo ken 1 Gotten ower it, indeed I " and Janet I tttmcd her back on her visitor, and went mutter- ing about lier gloomy kitchen : " The minister no' being one to speak his sorrow to the ncTVsmonging folk that frequent your house, they say he has gotten ower it, do they ? It 's a* they ken ! " " Janet^ woman," said her visitor, " I canna but think you are unreasonable in your anger. I said nothing derogatory to the minister ; far be it from me I But we can a' see that the house needs a head, and tbo bahns need a mother. The minister 's growing gey cheerful like, and the year is mair than out ; and " "Whisht, woman Dimia say it. S^ieak sense if ye maun speak," said Janet, with a gesture of disgust and anger. " Wherefore should I no' say it ? " demanded her visitor. "And as to speaking sense . But I '11 no' trouble you. It seems you have fr-iends in such plenty that you can afford to scorn and scoff at them at your pleasure. Good-day tc) you," and she rose to go. But Janet had already repented her hot words. " Bide still, woman ! Friends dinna fall out for a single ill word. And what with ae thing and anither I dinna weel ken what I 'm saying or doing whiles. Sit down : it 's you that 's unreasonable now." This was Mistress Elspat Smith, the wife of a farmer — ".no' that ill aff," as he cautiously expressed it — a far more important person in the parish than Janet, the minister's maid-of-all-work. It was a condescension on her part to u JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. , ) ;l II come into Jauet's kitclien luider tuiy circumstancefj, eho tliouglit ; and to be taken up sliaqily for a fricntUy word was not U) be bcme. But they had been friends all tlieir lives ; and Janet " kenned hersel' as gude a woman as Elspat Smith, weel aff or no' weel afF ; '* so with gentle violence she pushed her back into her chair, saying : " Hoot, woman I "What would folk say to see you and mo striving at this late day ? And I want to consult you." " But you should speak sense yourself, Janet," said her Mend. " Folk maun speak as it 's given them to speak," said Janet ; " and we '11 stxy nae mair about it. No' but that the bairns might bo the better to have some one to be over them. She wouldna hao her sorrow to seek, i can tell you. No that they 're ill banns " " We'll say no more ti^out it, since that is your will," said IMi'S. Smith, with dignity ; and then, rclentmg, she added, " You have a full handf ii' -with the eight of them, I 'm sure." " Seven only," said Janet, under her breath. " She got one of them safe home with her, thank God. No' that there 's one ower many," added she quickly ; " and they 're no' ill bairns." "You have your ain troubles among them, I dare say, and are muckle to be pitied " " Mo to be pitied ! " said Janet sconifully, " there *s no fear o' mo. But what can the Uke o' me do ? For ye ken, woman, though the minister is a powerful preacher, and grand on points o' doctrine, he 's a verra bairn about some things. She aye keepit the siller, and far did she make it gang — having something to lay by at the year's end as well. Now, if we make the twa ends meet, it 's mair than I expect." " But Miss Graeme ought to have some sense about these things. Surely she takes heed to the bairns ? " " Miss Graeme 's but a baim herself, with little thought and legs eyperienco ; and its no' to be supposed that the JAXET fl r.OVK AND BEUVK'E. 16 rest will take heed to licr. The little anes are no' so ill to do with ; but these twa laddies are just spirits o' mischief, for as quiet us Norman looks ; and they come home from tlio school with torn clothes, till Miss (iraeme is just dazed with mending at them. And Miss jNIarian is near as ill as the ladchcs ; and poor, wee Kosio, gi'owing langer and thinner every day, till you would think the wind would blow her 'dwii. Master iVi'thur is awa at his eddicalion : the best thing for a' concerned. I wish they were a' safe up to man's astate," and Janet sighed. " And is IMiss Graeme good at lijcr seam ? " asked Mistress Elspat. " O ay ; she 's no' that ill. She 's better at her sampler and at the lloweiiiig than at mending torn jackets, however. But there's no fear but she v»'ould get skill at that, and at other things, if she would but liao patience with herself. ]\Iiss Graeme is none of the common kind." " And has there been no word from Jitr friends since ? They say her brother has no baims of his own. He might well do something for her's." Janet shook her head. " The minister doesna think that I ken ; but when I\Ir. Ross was here at the buiial, ho offered to take two of thf bairns, Norman or Hariy, and wee Marian. She 's likest her mamma. But such a thmg wasna to be thought of ; and he went awa' no' weel pleased. Whether he 'U do onything for them in ony ither way is more than I ken. He might keep Master Arthur at the college and no' miss it. Plow the minister is ever to school the rest o' them is no' easy to be seen, unless he should go to America after all." Mistress Smith lifted her hands. " He 'U never siu'el}^ thhik o' taking these motherless bairns to yon savage place I "What could ail him at Mr. Ross's offer ? My patience ! but folk wliiles stand in their ain hght." " Mr. Ross is not a God-fearing man," rephed Janet, sol- fimnlv "It's no' what their mother would have wished to ^ I ■M » •* < • i IG JANET S LOVE A.ND SERVICE. liavo her bairns brought up by hmi. The minister kenned Jier wishes well on that pomt, you may bo sure. And be- sides, ho could never cross the soa and leave any of them behmd." " But what need to cross the sea ? " cried IMi-s. Smith. " It 's a pity Ijut folk should ken when they 're weel aff. What could the like o' hun do in a comitry he kens nothmg about, and with so many baii'ns ? " " It 's for the bairns' sake he 's thmking of it. They say there 's fine land there for the working, and no such a thing as pajin' rent, but every man farming his own land, with none to say him nay. And there "s room for all, and meat and clothes, and to spare. I 'm no' sure but it 's just the best thing the minister can do. They had near made up thei" minds afore, ye ken." *• Hoot, woman, speak sense," entreated her fiiend. " Is the minister to sell ruyty knives and glass beads to tho Indians ? That 's what they do in yon country, as I 've read in a book myself. AVhatna like way is that to bring up a family ? " " Losh, woman, there 's other folk there beside red Indians ; folk that dinna scruple to even themselves "with the best in Britain, no' less. You should read the newspapers, woman. There 's one John Caldwell there, a fiiend o' the minister's, that 's something in a cdilege, and he 's aye writing him to come. He says it 's a wonderful coimtry for progi-ess ; and they hae things there they ca' institutions, that he seems to think muckle o', though what they may be I couldna weel make out. The minister read a bit out o' a letter the ither night to Miss Graeme and me." " Janet," said her fiiend, " say the truth at once. Tho vninister is bent on this fule's errand, and you 're encourag- zng in it." " Na, na ! He needs na encoui'agement from tho like o' me. I would gie muckle, that hasna muckle to spare, gin he were content to bide where he is, though it 's easy seen he'll hae ill enough bringing up a .family here, and these Janet's love akd service. 17 ladLlics ueodiii^ more ilka year that goes o'er their licads. And they say you 's a grand country, and Unc cddication to bo got in it for next to nothmg. I'm no sure but the best thing ho can do is to take them there. 1 ken the mis- tress was weel pleased with the thought," and Janet ti-ied with all her might to locjk hopeful ; but licr truth-telling coimtenancc betrayed her. Ilcr friend shook her head gi-avely. " Tt might have done, with her to guide them ; but it 's veiy different now, as you ken yourself, far better than I can tell you. It would bo little elso thiin a teniptin' o' Provi- dence to ex2:)Oso these helpless bamiw, first to the perils o the sea, and then to those o' a strange coimtry. He '11 never do it. He 's restless now and unsettled ; but when time, that cures most troubles, goes by, he '11 thiuk better of it, and bide where he is." Janet made no rcj)ly, but in lier heart she took no such comfort. She knew it was no feeling of restlessness, no longing to bo away fiom the scene of his sorrow that had decided the minister to emigi'ate, and tliat he had decided she very well knew. These might have hastened his plans, she thought, but he went for the sake of his childi'en. They might make theu* own way in the world, and he thought he could better do tliis in the New World than in the Old. The decision of one whom she had always rever- enced for his goodness and wisdom must be right, she thought ; yet she had misgivings, many and sad, as to the fiiture of the childi-en she had come to love so well. It was to have her faint hope confirmed, and her strong fears chased away, that she had spoken that afternoon to her friend ; and it was with a feeling of utter disconsolatencss that she turned to her work again, when, at last, she was left alone. For Janet had a deeper cause for care than she had told, a vague feeling that the worldly wisdom of her friend could not help her here, keepuig her silent about it to her. That very morning, her heart had leaped to her lips, when her master in his grave, brief way {\ad asked. itai»ai». ,^ ' ! 18 jankt's love and si;rvick. " Jancf, will you go with us, and help mo to take care of licr bairns ? " And bIio had vowed to God, and to liim, that she would never leave ihcia v/liile they needed the help tliat a faithful servant could {^ave. ]jiit the after thought had come. Sho had other ties, and cares, and duties, apart from these that clustered so closely round the nimister and his motherless children. A mile or two dowji the glen stood the little cottage that htid for a long thne been the home of her widowed mother, and her son. jMore than half required for their maintenance Janet provided. Could slie forsake them ? Could any duty sho owed to her master and his children make it right for her to forsake those whoso Mood flowed in her veins ? Tnie, her mother was by no means an aged woman yet, and her sou was a well-doing helpful lad, who would soon be able to take care of himself. Her mother had another daughter too, but Janet knew that her sister could never supply her place to her mother. Though kind and well-intentioned, she was cas}' minded, not to say thriftless, and the mother of many bairns besides, and there could neither be room nor comfoi't for her mother at her fireside, should its shelter come to bo Heeded. Day after day Janet wearied herself going over the matter in her mind. " If it were not so far," she thought, or " if hor mother could go v.-ith her." But this she knew, for many rea- sons, could never be, even if her mother could be brought to consent to such a plan. And Janet asked herself, " "What would my mother do if Sandy were to die ? And what would Sandy do if my mother were to die ? And what wouid both do if sickness were to overtake them, and me far away ? " till she quite hated herself for ever tlihiking of put- tmg the wide sea between them and her. There had been few pleasures scattered over Janet's rough path to womanhood. Not more than two or three mornings since she could remember had she risen to other than a life of labor, Even diuing the bright brief years of her married ♦ .).\^KTS I.OVJ: Ai^l) SERVICK. 19 lifo, slie Lad known little rcspilo from toil, fi)r her hii.sband had been a poor man, and he had died suddenly, before her son was born. With few words spoken, and few tears shed, save what fell in secret, she had given her infant to hor mo- ther's care, and gone back again to a servant's piace in the niinis-ter's household. There she had been for ten }ears the stay and right hand of her beloved friend and mistress, "working the work of two," as they told her, who wouhl liavc made her discontented iu her lot, with no thought from year's end to year's end, but how she might best do her Juty in the situabVni in which God had plac(Ml her. But far awav into the future — it might be years and years licnce — she looked to the time ^Yhen in a house of her own, she might devote herself entirely to the comfort of her mother and her son. In this ho2)e she was content to strive and toil through the best years of her life, living poorly and saving evGiy penny, to all a2")pearancc etinally indifferent to the good word of those who honored her for her faithfulness and patient labor, and to the bad word of those who did not scruple to call her most striking characteristics by less honor- able names. She had never, during all these years, spoken, even to her mother, of her plans, but their fulfilment was none the less settled in her o^\^l mind, and none the less dear to her because of that. Could she give this xx^'i Could she go away from her home, her fi*icnds, the land of her birth, and be content to see no respite from her lalx)r till the end? Yes, she could. The love that had all these years been growing for the childi*en she had tended with almost a mother's care, would make the sacrifice possible — even eas}* to her. But her mother? How could she find courage to tell hor that she must leave her alone in her old age? The thought of j):ii"ting f)'om her son, her " bonny Sandy," loved with all the deeper fervor that the love was seldom spoken — even this gave her no such pang as did the thought of tiun- ing her back upon her mother. He was young, and had his hfe before him, and in the many changes time might bring, ehe could at least hope to see liim again. But her mother, •tt ^ :l 10 janet'b love and skrviok. « ':i already verging ou tlio thi*ec-scoro, bIic coiild never hope to SCO more, when once the broad Atlantic rolled between them. And HO, no wonder if in the nuKery of her indeeiaion, Janet'H wordn grew fewer and shaq)er as the davH wore on. With strange inconsistency she blamed the minister for his detennination to go away, but suffered no one else to blame him, or indeed to hint that ho could do otherwise than what was wisest and best for all. It was a sore subject, this anticipated departure of the minister, to many a one in Clay- ton besides her, and nmch was it thscussed by all. But it was a ftubjcct on which Janet would not be approached. Sho gave short answers to those who offered their services in the way of advice. She preserved a scornful silonce in the pre- sence of those who seemed to thmk she could forsake her master and his childi-cn in theii' time of need, nor was sho better pleased with those who thought her mother might bo left for their sakes. And so sho thought, and wished, and planned, and doubted, till she dazed herself ^^'ith her vain ef- forts to get light, and could think and plan no more. " I '11 leave it to my mother herself to decide," she said, at last ; " though, poor body, what can she say, but that I maun do what I tliink is my duty, and please myself. The Lord S.bovo kens I hae Httle thought o' pleasiu' myself in this iiatter." And in her joerplexity Janet was ready to tliink her case an exception to the general rule, and that contrary to all experience and observation, duty pointed two ways at onco. .!■ CHAPTER III. THE time camo when tlio (ilocision could no longer be deUycd. The ministor ^vas away from homo, and before his return it would be made known fonnally to hi.s people that ho was to leave them, and after that tlio sooner his dopaiinro took place it would be the bettor for all con- cerned, and so Janet nmst brace herself for the task. So out of tho dunness of her spotless Idtchen she canio one day into the pleasant li^i^lit of May, knowing that before sho entered it again, she would have made her mother's heai-t as sore as her o^vu. All day, and for many days, she had been planning what sho should say to her mother, for sho felt that it must be farewell. " If you know not of two ways which to choose, take that which is roughest and least pleasing to yourself, and the chances are it will be the right one," said she to herself. "I read that in a book once, but it 's lU choosing when both aro rough, and I know not what to do." Out into the brightness of the Spring day she came, with many misgivings as to how she was to speed in her errancL " It 's a bonny day, bairns," said she, and her eye wandered wistfully down the village street, and over tho green fields, to the hills that rose diml}'^ in the distance. The mild air softly fanned her cheek, pleasant sights were roimd her everj-whore, and at the garden gate she lingered, vaguely stiiving under theii* influence to cast her burden from her. " I mun hae it ower," she muttered to herself as she went on. In each hand she held, firmly the hand of a child. Marian and little Will were to go with her for safe keeping; ; 22 JANKT^H LOVK AM) SrUVICK. the IjkIh woro at the Rcliool, uiul in In. r ubsciico Graeme waa to keep the Iiuuho, jiiul tuko cim; of liillo Koso. •' Oil, JiiiiL't 1 " hIic cxcliiiiuccl, uy nho wnit clown the lime a bit with them ; "I wifih I were goinp,' with ^ou, it'H sudi ii bonny day." But JnnvX knew (hat what kIks had to rrv, would bo bettor Baid without Ik a* prr'soni'c, yo she bhook her head. "You know Miss (iraomo, my dear, you mun keep the hous<', and wo would weary carryinj^- wee Uosic, and she could novc-r go half tljc dislance on her feet ; and mind, if ony loddioH call, the whort bread is in the ben press, and gin they begin with (lUcHtions, let your answers bo short and eeevil, hke a gude bairn, and take glide care o' my bonny wee lily,' added she, kissirig the i)alo little girl as she set her down. "But I ncedna tell yon that, and we'll soon be back again." The children chattered merrily all the way, and ])usy with her own thoughts, Janet answered them without knowing what she said. Down the lane, and over the burn, tlu'ough \';vccn fields, till the burn crossed their patli again they went, " the near way," and soon the Kolitary cottage in the glciii was in si< 'it. It was a very humble homo, but very pleasant in its hmeUness, Janet thought, as her eye fell on it. The cat sat sunnhig herself on the stej), and tlu-ough the open door ciime the hum of the mother'u busy wheel. Draw- ing a long breath, Janet entered. " Wool, moiher," said she. " Weel, Janet, is this you, and the baii'ns ? I doubt you hadna weel leavin' liame the day,'' said her mother. " I had to come, and this day 's as good as another. It 'a a bonny day, mother." " Ay, its a bonny day, and a seasonable, thank God. Come in by bairns, I sent Sandy over to Fcrnio a while syne It 's near time he were hame again. 1 11 give you a piece, and you'll go do^VTi the glen to meet him," and, well pleased, awjiy tliey went. " I dare say you 'II be none the waur of your tea, JancL", woman," said her mother, and she put aside her wheel and •? have pati(>nco with h(»r hurdcii a little lon> si:)U'it. " Her mother's death was an awfu' loss to Miss Graeme, poor thing," said the mother. " Aye, that it was — her that had never kent a trouble bu* by readin' o' them in printed books. It was an awfu' wakei> ing to her. She has never been the same since, and I doubt 4<. JANET S LOVE AND SEIiVICE. 27 what the t, and so TS faUing and firm, £, for tho ture into er's heart from her with tho ight have her eves plication, grayer of •eace. phcn onco L no wcel wrang, in lae doubt r day for Lay be for [ospect ? " [lought o' Ihink, b J.t lok jojy-ful Ither with eheerfni Graeme, )uble but i' waken- I doubt it will be long till she has the same light heart again. Sho tries to fill her mother's place to them all, and when sho finds she canna do it, she loses heart and patience with her- self. But I hae great hojje o' her. She has the ' single eye,' and God will guiae her. I hae nae fear for Miss Graeme." And then they spoke of many things — setthng theii* little matters of business, and arranging their plans as quietly as though they looked forwai'd to doing the same thing every month during the futiu'O years as they had done doling tho past. Nothing was forgotten or omitted ; for Janet well knew that aU her time and strength would be needed for the preparations that must soon commence, and that no time so good as the present might be found for her own personal iviTangements. ller little savings were to be lodged in safe hands for her mother's use, and if anything were to happen her they were to be taken to send Sandy over the sea. It •was all done very quietly and calmly. I wiU not say that Janet's voice did not falter sometimes, or that no mist ramo between the mother's eye?, and the grave face on the other side of the table. But there was no sign given. A strong sense of duty sustained them. A firm belief that hov^ever painful the futui-e might be, they were doing right i». tliis matter, gave them power to look calmly at the sacrifice, that must cost them so much. At length the childi-en's voices were heard, and at the soimd, Janet's heart leaped up with a throb o; pain, but in words she gave no utterance to the pang. "Weel, Sandy, lad, is this you," said she, as with muigled sh}Tiess and pleasure the boy came forward at his gi and- mothcr's bidding. He was a well-gi-own and healthy lad, with a fi-ank face, and a thick shock of Hglit cim.-j. There "was a happy look in his large blue eyes, and the smile <'ximG very naturally to his rather large mouth. To his mother, at the moment, he seemed altogether beautiful, and her heart cried out against the great trial that was before her. Sandy stood with hia hand in her's, while his giandmother qaes- iioned him about the eiTand on which he had been sent, and m \\ ^ 28 JANE1''S LOVE AND SERVICE. . : she had time to quiet herself. But there was a look on her face as she sat there, gently stroking his fair hair with her band, that was sad to see. Marian saw it with momentai-y wonder, and then coming up to her, she laid her arm gently over her neck and wliispered, " Sandy is going with us too, Janet. There wiU be jilent^ of room for us alL" , "1 've been telhng Menie that I canna leave grannie," said Sandy, turning gi-avely to his mother. " You '11 hae Norman and Harry, and them a', but grannie has none but me." " And wouldna you like to go with us too, Sandy, man ? " asked his mother, with a pang. • " To yon fine countiy John Ferguson tells us about ? " said Sandy, with sparkling eyes. " That I would, but it wouldna be right to leave grannie, and she says she's ower old to go so far away — and over the gi'eat sea too." " Nae, my lad, it wouldna be right to leave grannie by herself, and you '11 need to bide here. Think aye first of what is right, and there will be no fear of you." " And are you goin' mother ? " asked Sandy, gi'avely. " I doubt I 'U need to go, Sandy lad, with the bairns. But I think less of it, that I can leave you to be a comfort to grannie. I 'm sure I needna bid you be a good and obedient laddie to her, when " It needed a strong effort on her part to restrain the bitter cry of her. heart. " And will you never come back agam, mother ? " ^ " I dinna ken, Sandy. Maybe no. But that 's no' for us to consider. It is present duty we maun tliink o'. The rest is in the Lord's hands." "What else could be said ? That was the sum. It was duty, and the Lord would take care of the rest. And so they parted with outward calm ; and her mother never knew that that night, Janet, sending the childi-en home before her, sat down in the lane, and "grat as if she would never greet mair.'* And Janet never knew, till long years. afterwards, how that night, and many a night, Sandy woke from the JANKTS LoVE AND SKRVICK. 39 Bound Klcop of cliildhooil to fiud Lis gi'andmothor prating and weeping, to think of the partiii^- ilmt was di'awing near. Each could bo strong to help the other, but alone, in silence and darlmess, the poor shrinking heart liad no power to cheat itself into the belief that bitter sufifering did not lie before it I fl •■.. i: ! :l CHAPTER IV. IT was worsliip time, and tlie bairns had gathered round the table with their books, to wait for their father's com- ing. It was a fau' sight to see, but it was a sad one too, t>v they were motherless. It was all the more sad, that the bright faces and gay voices told how Uttle they reahzed the great- ness of the loss they had sustained. They were more gay than usual, for the elder brother had come home for the sum- mer, perhaps for always ; for the question was being eagerly discussed whether he would go back to the college again, or whether he was to go with the rest to America. Arthur, a quiet, handsome lad of sixteen, said little. He was sitting mth the sleepy "Will upon his knee, and only put in a word now and then, when the others grew too loud and eager. He could have set them at rest about it, for he knew that his father had decided to leave liim in Scotland tiU his studies were llnislicd rt the college. "But there 's no use to vex the lads and CJraome to-night," he said to himself ; and he was right, as he had not quite made up his mind whether he was vexed himself or not. The thought of the great countries on the other side of the globe, and of the possible adventm*es that might await them there, nad charms for him, as for every one of his age and spirit. But he was a sensible lad, and realized in some measure the advantage of such an education as could only be secured by remainmg behind, and he knew in his heart that there was reason in what his father had said to him of the danger there was that the voyage and the new scenes in a strange land might unsettle his mind fi'om his books. It cost him some» thing to seem content, even while his father was sj)eaking to ^ Janet's love and service. ai Iiim, and ho knew well it would grieve the rest to know ho war +o bo left behind, so ho would say nothing about it, on tliis firs^, night of his homecoming. J There was one sad face among them ; for even Arthur 'a homecoming could not quite chiiso the shadow that had fallen on Graeme since the night a year ago while she sat di'oaming hor dreams in the iireHght. It was only a year or little more, but it might have been three, judging from the change in her. She was taller and paler, and older-looking since then. And yet it was not so much that as somethi'^g else that so changed her, Arthur thought, as he sat watchmg her. The change had come to her through their gi*eat loss, he know ; but ho could not have understood, even if it htid been told him, how much this had changed hfo to Graeme. Ho had suffered too more than words could cvei* tell. Many a time his heart had been ready to biu'st with unsi^oakablc longing for his dead mother's loving presence, her voico, her smilt her gentle chiding, till he could only cast himself down and weep vain tears upon the ground. Graeme had borne all this, and what was v;orse to her, the hom'ly missing of her mother's counsel and care. Not one day of all the year but she had been made to feel the bitter- ness of their loss ; not one day but she had striven to fill her mother's place to her father and them all, and her nightly heartbreak h:id been to know that she had striven in vain. "As how could it bo otherwise than vain," she said often tc herself, "so weak, so foolish, so impatient." And yet through all her weakness and impatience, she knew that she must never cease to try to fill her mother's place still. Some thought of all this came into Arthur's mind, as she sat tliere leaning her head on one hand, while the other touched from time to time the cradle at her side. Never before had he realized how sad it was for them all that they had lost their mother, and how dreary hfe at home must have been all the year. ^ "Poor Graeme ! and poor wee Rosie !" ho says to himself stooping over the cradle. ^ ^ 32 J.VNK'r'tJ LOVK AND SEKVIOK. " How old is Rosic ?" aHkcil lio, suddoiily. "Near tlirco ycai'H old," Haid Janet "She wiuna bo tlu'ce till Anf]fiist," f.aid Graoiiic in the same breath, and Hho turned ])CHeeching eyew on Janet. For this was becoming a vexed question between them — the guiding of poor wee Rosio. Janet was a disiiplinarian, and ever declared that Ilosie " should go to her Ijed hko ither folk ;" but Graeme could never find it in her heart to vex her dar- ling, and so the cradle still stood in the dcnvn-stairs parlor for Rosie's benefit, and it was the elder sister's nightly task to soothe the fretful httle lady to her unwilUng slum- bers. ■ But Graeme had no need to fear discus.sion to-night. Ja- net's mind was full of other thoughts. One cannot shed oceans of tears and leave no .sign ; and Janet, by no mean'? sure of herself, sat with her face turned from the light, in- tently gazing on the veiy small piint of ilio Bible in her hand. On common occasions the bamis would not have let Janet's silence pass unheeded, but to-night they were bu.sy di.scus.s- ing matters of importance, and except to say now and then, "Whist, bairns! yoiu* father will bo here!" she sat without a word. There was a hush at last, as a step was heard descending the stairs, and in a minute their father entered. It was not fear that quieted them. There was no fear in the fi'ank, eager eyes tmiied tow^ard liim, as he sat down among them. His was a face to win confidence and respect, oven at the first glance, so grave and earnest was it, yet withal so gentle and mild. Li his children's heai-ts the sight of it stii-red deep love, which grew to reverence as they grew in years. The calm that sat on that high, broad brow, told of conflicts passed, and victory sccm'e, of weary wandering through desert places, over now and scarce remembered in the quiet of the resting- place he had found. His words and deeds, and his chas- tened view^s of earthly things told of a deep experience in " that life which is the heritage of the few — ^that true life of JANCT8 LOVE AND BEliVICK. sa God in tlio sonl with its straiij^e, inch secrets, both of joy and sadness," whoso peace the world knowoth not of, which nanght beneath the sun can ever more disturl). " The minister is changed — greatly clianged." Janet had said many times to herself and others during the last few months, and she said it now, as her eye with the others tunied on him as he entered. But with the thought th(>ro came to-night the consciousness that the change was not such a one as was to bo deplored. He had grown older and graver, and more silent than ho used to be, but he had gi'own to something hij^hor, purer, holier than of old, and like a sud- den gleam of hght breaking through the darkness, there flashed into Janet's inind the promise, "All things shall work together for good to them that 1< ve God." Her hps had often spoken the words before, but U' »w her eyes saw the fulfillment, and her failing faith was strengthened. If that bitter trial, beyond which she had vainly si riven to see aught but evil, had indeed wi'ought good for her beloved friend and master ; need she fear any change or any trial which the future might have in store for her ? " It will work for good, this pain and separation," mur- mured she. " I 'ni no' Hke the minister, but fifail and foolish, and wilful too whiles, but I hiunbly hope that I am one of those who love the Lord." "Well, bairns!" said the father. There was a gentle stii* and movement among them, though there was no need, for Graeme had already set her father's clinir and opened the Bible at the place. She pushed aside the cradle a httle that he might pass, and ho sat down among them. ""We'll take a Psalm, to-night," said he, after a minute's trnTiiiig of the leaves from a " namey chapter" in Clironicles, the usual place. He chose the forty-sixth. " God is om* refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. " Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, though the mountains be cast into the midst of the sea." : I JA^fETS LOVE AND SEUVlCK. ' I And til us on tlu'oii^h the next, "Ho h1i:i11 choose our iiib'Titaiico for lis, the cxcolloiicy uf Jacob, whom he loved." , And still on throiif^'li the next tUl the lust verse, "This God is our God forever and ever. Ho will bo our guide, oven imto death," seemed like the triuin pliant ending of a song of [)raiHe. Then there was a momentary hush and pause. Never eince the mother's voice had gi*o\vn silent in death liiid tho voice of song risen at worship time. They had tiied it moro than once, and failed in bitter weephig. But Janet, fearful that their silence was a sin, had to-night brought the hymn- books which tliey always used, and laid them at Ai*tbui''s side. Li the silence that followed the reading Graeme looked from him to them, but Arthur shook his head. Ho was not sure that his voice would make its way through tho lumi) that had been gathering in his throat while his father read, an^ht. "Oh! Janet," said (Iraeuio, "put on another peat. I'm cold, and I want to speak to you." "Miss Graeme ! You up at this time o' the ni^ht ! "What ails yon cankered fau*y now ? " " Oh, Janet ! She 's asleep lonpf aj2"o, and I want to speak to you." And before Janet could remonstrate, one of the di*y peats set ready for the nioniing lire was tlu-own on the em- bers, and soon blazed biightly up. Graeme crouched down before it, with her arm over Janet's knee. "Janet, what did yom* mother say? And oh! J;uict, Arthur says my father " Turning witli a siidden movo laent, Graeme let her head fall on Janet's lap, and burst into tears. Janet tried to lift her face. "Whist! Miss Graeme! AMiat ails tho lassie? It's no' tho thought of going awa', surely? You hao kenned this was to be a while sync. You hae little to greet about, if you but kenned it — you, who are going altogether." " Janet, Arthm* is to bide in Scotland." " Well, it whnia bo for long. Just till ho 's done at tho college. I dare say it 's the best thing that can happen IvLm to bide. But who told you ? " " Arthur told me after we went up stairs to-night. And, oh! Janet! what .will I ever do without him?" I " IVIiss Graeme, my deal' ! You hao done without him these two years ah-eady mostly, and even if we all were to bide in Scotland, you would hao to do witliout him still. Ho could na' bo here and at the college too. And when he 's done with that he would hae to go elsewhere. FamiUes canna aye bide together. Bau'ns maun part." " But, Janet, to go so far and leave him ! It will seem al- most hJve death." 'It 30 .lANKTS I.OVn AND HDUVICK. "lint, liiHsiu it H no' (Icatlj. Tlioro 'h ii grc;it (liiTuroiicOk And iiH for KO(.'in;^' liim ii'ijiiin, that is iih tho Lord willa. Anyway, it douHua boconio you to cast a wli^dit on your I'athor'H judj^incnt, aw tli()U<,4i ho had docidod unwiwely in thin matter. Do you no' think it wiU cost him Homothing to part fi'oni hiH first-l)orn Hon ? " "But, Janet, why need ho part from him? Think how much better it would bo for him, and for us all, if Arthur hhould go with us. Arthur iH almost a man." " Na, lass. Ho '11 no' hae a man's sense this while yet And as for his goin' or bidin', it 's no' for you or me to seek for the why and tho wherefore o' tho matter. It might be better — more ehceiy — for you and us all if your elder brother were with us, Ijut it wouldna ])o best for him (o go, or your father would never leave him, you may be sure o' that." There was a long silence. Graeme sat gazing into tho dying embers. Janet threw on another peat, and a bright blaze sprang up again. "Miss (iraemc, my dear, if it 's a wise and right thing for your father to take you all over the sea, tho going or the ])itliiig o' yoiu' elder brother can make no real dilTercnca You nuist seek to see the rights o' this. If your father hasua him to help him with the buirns and — ither things, the more he '11 need you, and you maun hae patience, and strive no' to disappoint Mm. You hae muckle to be thankful for — you that can write to ane anither like a printed book, to keep one anither in mind. There 't:? nae fea.. o' yoiu* gi'owin' out o' acquaintance, and he '11 soon follow, you may be sui'o. Oh, lassie, lassie ! if you could only ken ! " Graeme raised herself up, and leaned both her arms on Janet's lap. " Janet, what did yoiU' mother say ? " Janet gulped something down, and said, huskily, " Oh ! she said many a thing, but she made nae wark about it. I told youi- father I would go, and I will. My mother doesna object." "And Sandy?" said Graeme, softly, for there was some* ja.\i:th rovK and bkkvui:. 37 tiling' workin;:^ in Jini(>t'H face, which who ditl not liUo to BOO. "Sandy will ayo hao my niothor, and hIio'II hao Sandy. But, lassie, it )vinna boar speaking about to-uifjht. (lang ttwa' to your bod." Graonio ros(», but did not <^o. "But oouhhui Sandy go witli us? It would only bo ono more. Suroly, Janet " JaiU't niado a movement of impatieneo, or entreaty, Graemo did not know which, but it st(^pi)ed hor. "Na, na! Sandy conldna leave my mother, oven if it would bo wise for mo to take him. There 'h no moro to bo said about that." And in spite of herself, Janet's tears gushed forth, as mortal eyes had never seen them gush before, since sho was a herd lassie on the hills. Clraeme looked on, hushed and fi'ightenod, and in a httk^, Janet (luieted herself and wiped her face with her apron. "You see, dear, what with one thing and what with an other, I 'm weary and voxcmI to-night, and no' just myself. Matters will look moro hopeful, both to you and to me, the movn. There 's ono thing certain. Both you and me hae laueh to do that maun bo done, before we sec saut water, without losing time in giinublin' at what canna be helped. "What with the bairns' clothes jind ilher things, wo winna need to be idle ; so let us awa' to our beds that we may be up betimes tho moru." Graeme still luigored. *' O, Janet ! if my mother wove only hero ! How easy it all woiHd be." "Ay, lass! I hae Raid that to myself many a time this while. But He that took her canna do wrong. There was some need for it, or she would hae been here to-night. You maun aye strive to fill her place to them all." Graeme's tears flowed foiih afi-esh. "O Janet ! I think you 're mockmg mo when you say that. How could / over fill her place ? " "No' by yoiu' atu strength and wisdom sui'oly my lam- r 38 jankt's love ai^d service. inie. But it would bo limiting Plis grace to say He canua make you all you should be — all that she was, and that is saying muckle ; for she was wise far by the common. But now gang awa' to your bed, and dinna forget your good wonls. There 's no fear but you will be in God's keeping wherever you go." Janet was right ; they had need of all theii* strength and patience during the next two months. When Janet had con- fidence in herself, she did what was to be done with a will. But she had little skill in making purchases, and less experi- ence, and Graeme was little better. Many thmgs must be got, and money could not be spent lavishly, and there waa no time to lose. But, with the aid of Mrs. Smith and other kind fiiends, their preparations were got through at last. Pui'chases were made, mending and making of garments were accomphshed, and the labor of packing was got through, to theu' enth-e satisfaction. The mhiistcr said good-bye to each of liis people separately, either in the kh'k, or in his own homo or theirs ; but ho Khrunk from last words, and from the sight of all the sorrow- ful faces that were sure to gather to see them go ; so he went away at night, and stayed with a fi'icnd, a few miles on their way. But it was the fakest of summer mornings — the mist just lifting from the hiUs — and the sweet air filled with the laverock's song, when Janet and the bairns looked their lest upon theii' home. # He canua nd that is inon. But your good ['s keeping •ength and 3t had con- t'ith a will. less experi- (•s must be there waa nd friends, liases were ;ompHshed, heir entii'o separately, rs ; but lie the sorrow- so he went es on their 5 — the mist id with the d their lest THE CAITAIN AND VOl NG KITHVEN.-/' 3y. ») mitted to be led away. The Httlo lady left on the deck seemed very much inchned to resent the unceremonious dis- posal of so hnportant a person, as she was always made to feel herself to be. But she took a look hito the face of her new fi'iend and thought bettor of it. His face was a good one, fi'ank and kindly, and Rose suffered herself to be lifted up and placed upon his knee, and when Graeme came back again, after a brisk walk of fifteen minutes, she foimd the ht- tle one, usually so fretful and " ill to do with," laughing merrily in the stranger's arms. She would have taken her, but Rose was pleased to stay. " You arc the very fu-st stranger that ever she was willing to go to," said she, gratefully. Looking up, she did not won- der at Rosie's fancy for the face that smiled down upon her. "I ought to feel myself highly honored,' said he. " I think we '11 give him the benefit of httlc Missy's prefer- ence," said Captain Armstrong, who had been watching Graeme with a Httle amused anxiety since her walk was ended. The color that the exercise had given her was fast fading from her face, till her very hps grew white with the deadly sickness that was coming over her. " You had best go to the cabin a wee while. You must give up, I think," said he. Graeme rose languidly. "Yes, I 'm afi'aid so. Come Rosie." " Leave the little one with me," said Mr. Ruthven. And that was the last Graeme saw of Rosie for the next twelve hours, for she was not to escape the misery that had fallen so heavily upon the rest, and very wearily the day passed. It passed, however, at last, and the next, which was calm and bright aa heart could ^vish, saw them all on deck again. J\Ni:T'ri I.OVE AND bliUVICE. 11 :er- And 'Give n so It and Tlicy ramc with dizzy hciuls jiud iiiicertaiu steps it is true, but the KCii air soon brought color to their cheeks, and strength to their limbs, and then sea life fairly began. But alas! for Janet. The third day, and the tenth found her stiU in her bertli, altogether Tuial)le to stand up against the power that held her. In vain she stniggled against it The Steadfasi's slightest motion was suilieient to over- power her quite, till at last she made no eHort to rise, but lay there, thsgusted with herself and all the world. On the calm- est and fairest days, they would prevail on her to be helped up to the deck, and there amid shawls and piUows she would sit, enduring one degi'eo less of miseiy than she did in the close cabin below. " It was just a judgment upon her," she said, "to let her see what a poor conceited body she was. She, that had been making niuclde o' herself, as though the Lord couldna take care o' the bairns without her help." It was not suilicient to Ijo told hourly that the children were well and happy, or to see it with her own eyes. This aggravated '. 21' trouble. " Useless Ijody that I am." And Janet did not v/ait for a sight of a strange land, to begin to pine for the land she had left, luid what with seasickness and homesickness together, she had very httle hope that she would ever see land of any kind again. The lads and 3Iaii;in enjoyed six weeks of perfect happi- ness. Graeme and their father at hrst v.'cre in constant fear of their getting into danger. It would only have prov(jked disobedience had all sorts of cliniblug Ijcen forbidden, for llie tem])tation to try to outdo each other in their imitation of the sailors, wa;i quite irresistible ; and not a rope in the rigging, nor a corner m the ship, but they were famihar with before the first few days were over. "And, indeed, they were wonderfully preserved, the foolish lads," their father acknowledged, and grew (content about them at last. Before me lies the joiu'ual of the voyage, faithfully kept ia a big book given liy Arthur for the purpose. A full and com- plete history of the six weeks might bo written from it, but J 42 JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. forbear. Nurniau or Han*y, in language obscurely nautical, notes daily the longitude or the latitude, and the knots they make an hour. There are notices of whales, seen in the dis- tance, and of shoals of porpoises seen near at hand. There are stories given which they have heard in the forecastle, and hints of practical jokes and tricks played on one another. The history of each sailor in the ship is given, ii'Oui " hand- some Frank, the fii'st Yankee, and tlie best singer " the boys ever saw, to Father Abraham, the D"tchman, "with short legs and shorter temper." Graeme writes often, and daily bewails Janet's continued ilhiess, and rejoices over " wee Rosie's " improved health and temper. With her account of tiie boys and their doings, she mingles emphatic wishes "that they had more sense," but on the whole they are satisfactory. She has nuicli to say of the books she has been reading — "a good many of Sir Walter Scott's that papa does not object to," lent b}' Allan Ruthven. There are luiiis of discussions with him about the books, too ; and Graeme declares she "has no patience " with Allan. For his favorites in Sii* Wtilter's books are sel- dom those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake ; and there are allusions to battles fought Avith him in behalf of the good name of the Old Piuitaiis — men whom Graeme de- hghts to honor. But on the whole it is to be seen, that Mian is a favorite with her and with them all. The beautiful Bay of Boston was reached at last, and with an interest that cannot be told, the little party — including the restored Janet — regarded the city to which they wero drawing near. Their ideos of what they were to see lii'st in the new world had been rather indefinite and vague. Far more familiar with the early history of New England — with such scenes as the landing of the i:)ilgiims, and the departiu-e 9f Roger Williams to a still more distant wilderness, than with the history of modern advance, it was certainly not such a city they had expected to see. But they gazed with ever in creasing dehght, as they drew nearer and nearer to it through the beautiful hay- Janet's lovk ajs'd servicr. 43 "And this is tlio wond(Tfiil new world, that promises so much to us all," said Allan. " They liavi; left unstained wliat tliorc they found, Freodom to worsUip (lod," mummred Cfraemo, softly. "I'm sui'o I shall like iho American people." But Allan was taldiir,' to heart the thought of imrting fi'om them all, more than was at all reasonable, he said to himself, and 1 vj could not answer her with a jest as ho mij^dit at aii.^her time. " You must write and tell mo about your now homo," said lie. " Yes — the boys will write ; wo will all write. I can hardly believe that six weeks ti'^o we had never seen you. Oh ! I wish you were j^'oini^- with us," said CIracme. " Allan will see iVi-thnr when ho comes. Arthur will want to see all the countr}-," said Norman. " And mayljo ho will like the Queen's dominions best, and wish to settle there," said Allan. " Oh ! but we shall see you long before Arthur comes," said Graeme. " Is it very far to Canada ? " " I don't know — not very far I suppose. I don't feel half so hopeful now that I am about to know what my fate is to be. I have a gi'oat dread on mo. I have a mind not to go to my inicle at all, but seek my fortune here." "But your mother wouldna be jDleased," said Graeme, gravely. " No. She has great hopes of what my uncle may lo for me. But it woul ''. be more agi'oeable to mo not to be con- fined to one com so. I should like to look about me a little, before I get fairly into the treadmill of business." Li her heart Graeme thought it an excellent thing for Allan that he had his uncle to go to. She had her ovm ideas about young people's looking about them, with nothing par- ticular to do, and quite agreed with Janet and Dr. Watts as to the work likelv to bo found for them to do. But slie 44 yANET'B I.OVE AND fiKliVIOE. thought it woulJ 1)0 very nice for thom nil, if iiistijad of Bcttiiiy off at oncn for Canada, Allan nii,i,dit liavo gone with thcni for a littlo while. Before she could say this, however, Janet s^iola'. "A3', that's bairn-liko, though you hae a nian'.s stature. T dare say you would thmk it a braw thing to be at naebody'a bidding ; but, my lad, it 's ao' thing to hae a friend's house, and a welcome wailing yon in a strange land lik(3 this, and it 'a anither thing to sit solitary in a bare lodging, eveil though you may hae liberty to come and go at your ain will. If you're like the lads that I ken' niai t about, you '11 be nono the worse of a littlo wholesonio restraint. Be thanld'ul for your mercies. Allan laughed good-hmnoredly. But really, Mrs. Nfismyth, you are too hard on mo. Just tliink what a country this is. Think of the mountains, and rivers and lakes, and of all these wonderful forests and praiides that Norman reads about, and is it strange that I should grudge myself to a dull counting-room, wdth all these things to enjoy '? It is not the thought of the restraint that troubles me. I only fear I shall become too soon content with the routine,, till I forget how to enjoy anything but tho making and conntijig of money. I am siu'o anything would be better than to come to that." " You '" hae many things between you and the like o' that, if you d youi' duty. You have them you are going to, and them you hae left — yoiu' mother and brother. And though you had none o' them, you could aye find some poor body to be kind to, to keep your heart soft. Are you to bide in your uncle's house ? " *' I don't know. Mrs. Peter Stone, that was home last year, told us that my uncle hves in the country', and liis clerks live ui the town anywhere they U. e. I shall do as tho rest do I suppose. All the better — I shall be the more able to do what I like with my leisure." " Ay, it 's aye Hberty that the like o' you delight in. Weel, Bee that you make a good use of it, that 's the chief thing. JANKT'b LOVE AND BEliVICK. 45 Road your Bible and gaiij,' to tlic Ivii-k, and there 'h no fear o' yon. And dinna foi-pfct to write to your mother. Slie 'h had many a weary thonf(]it about you 'ere this iimo, 1 11 warrant." "I daresay I Khali bo content en(jugh. r>ut it seenia like parLinf^- from home a^-ain, to think of leaviiijjf you uU. ISIy bomiie woo Ro.sic, wliat shall I ever do without you?" said Allan, caressing the little one who had clambered on his knee. "And what shall wo do without youV exclaimed a chonis of voices ; and Norman added, ""VVliafc is 'the use of your going all the way to Canada, when there 's enongli for you to do here. Come with ns, Allan, man, and never mind your • cle." "And what will you do for hi , in caso ho should give his uncle up for you?" dem.'inded Janet, sharply. " Oh ! he '11 get just what we '11 get om'solves, a chance to make his own way, and I doubt whether he '11 get more where he 's going. I 've no faith in rich nncles." Allan langhed. "Thank you, Norman, lad. I must go to Canada first, however, whether I stay there or not. Maybe you will see me again, sooner than I think now. Surely, i.i the great to^vn before us, there might be found work, and a place for me." Far away before them, stretched the twhikling hghts of the tovrn, and silence fell upon them as they v/atched them. Tn another day tliey wonld be among the thousands who hvcd, and labored, and suffered in it. What awaited them there ? Not that they feared the future, or doubted a wel- come. Lideed, they were too young to think nmch of pos- sible evils. A new Hfe wa? 02")ening before them, no fear but it would be a happy one. Graeme had seen more trouble than the rest, being older, and she was natm'ally less hope- ful, but then she had no fear for them all, only the thoughi that they were about to entor on a new, untried life, mad| her excited and anxious, and the thought of parting witb their fiiend made her sad. As for Janet, she was herself again. Her coiu*age return* 40 JANET 8 LOVE AND BERVICK. > C(l when tlic Koa-sI(ikncHs departed, and now flho was reftdy "to put a Htout heart to a Rtill' brao" as of old. "Disjankit looking" Bho was, and not so strong as sho used to be, but >ho was as active as ever, and more than thankful to bo ablo to keep her feet again. She had been l^usy all the morning, overhanling the Ijelongings of the family, preparatory to landing, mucli to the discomfort of all conconiod. All tho morning CJraeme had submitted with a passably good gi*acG to her cross- (^uOsti(mmgs as to the " guiding" of this and that, while she had been unable to give person fil supeiTision to faniily matters. Thanldul to see her at her post again, Graeme tried to make a£>pavcnt her own good management of matters in general, dunng tho voyage, but she was only partially successful. There were far more rents and stains, and soiled garments, than Janet considered at all necessary, and besides many familiar articles of wearing apparel were missing, after duo search made. Li vain Graeme begged lier never to mind just now. They were in tho big bluo chest, or the little ln•o^vn one, sho couldna just mind where she had put them, but of course they would be found, when all the boxes were opened. " Maybe no," said Janet. " Tliero ai'o some long fingers, I doubt, in the steerage yonder. Miss Graeme, my dear, wo would need to be carefu'. If I 'm no' mistaken, I saw one o' Norman's spotted handkerchiefs about the neck o' yon lang Johnny Hceman, and yon Uttlo Irish lassie ga 'ed past me the day, with a pinafore very like one o' Menie's. I maun ha' a look at it agam." " Oh, Janet ! never mind. I gave woe Norah the pinafore, and the old bro^^^l frock besides. She had much need of them. And poor Johnny came on board on the pilot boat you ken, and he hathia a change, and Nonnan gave him tho hand- kerchief and an old waistcoat of papa's, — and — " Janet's hands were uplifted in consternation. " Keep 's and guide 'a lassie — that I should say such a word Your pajia hadna an old waistcoat in his possession. '\Vliat for did you do the like o' that ? The like o' Norman or ''\ .^ jani:t8 lovk and skrvick. Monio luif^bt bo oxcusoil, but you that I thouf]flit had somo BCUHG and (liKcretion. Your father's waiHtcoat ! Ifcard any* bodj' ever tlic liko? You may l)etliankful that you bao Romn- body that kens tho vahio of good clothcH, to take caro of you and them — " " Oh ! I 'm thankful as you could wish," said Gracmo, laughinpf. " I would rather hco you sittinjif there, in the midst of those elothes, tlian to see tlie Queen on her tlwone. I confess to tho waistccxit, and somo other thin;^.s, but mind, I 'm rcsponsiblo no lonf^er. I resi^^ni my offieo of ji^eneral care-taker to you. Success to you," and Graeme made for the cabm stairs. She turned apfain, however. " Never heed, Janet, about the tilings. Think wliat it must bo to have no change, and we had so many. Poor wee Norah, too. Her mother's dead you ken, and she looked so miserable." Janet was pacified. •■' Weel, Miss Graeme, I '11 no' hood. But my dear, it 's no' like we '11 lind good clothes gi'owing upon trees in this land, more than in our own. And wo had need to be careful. I wonder where a' the strippet pillow slips can be ? I see far more of the fmo ones dirty than were needed, if you had been careful, and guarded tliem." But Graeme was out of hearing before she came to this. They landed at last, and a very dreary landing it was. They had wrdted for hours, till tho clouds should exhaust themselves, but tho rain was still falling when they left the ship. Eager and excited, the whole party were, but not after the anticipated fashion. Graeme was surprised, and a little mortij&ed, to find no particular emotions swcllmg at her heart, as her feet touched tho soil which tho Puritans had rendered sacred. Lideed, she was too painfully conscious, that the sacred soil was putting her shoes and fi-ock in jeop- ardy, and had two much trouble to keep the umbrella over ^larian and herself, to be able to give any thanks to the suf- ferings of the Pilgiim fathers, or mothers either. Mr. Elhott had been on shore in the morning, and had engaged roomn 4S jani:t'h Lovr and fir.nvicE. f(jr tlicin ill a qniot Htroot, and thithor Allan Rutlivcn, cany* in;^ littlo Uohv, wjuj to conduct tlioni, wliile ho attended to tho proper bcHtownient of ihvW l)a;j^«^''a.<^o. This duty Jaiut fain vv'ould liav(^ nliarcd uith liim. Her ivvcreiu'o for tlio nrnistcr, anut it would be quite a manufacturing place too after a spell, when they 've used up aU the other water privileges in the State. There 's cpiite a fall in the IMerle river, just before it runs into the pond. We've got a fuUin'-mill and a grist-mill on it now. Tbcy 'd think everything of it in your country. " There 's just one mectm'-houso in it. That 's where your pa '11 preach if our folks conclude to hive him a spell. The land 's about all tiikcn up, though it haint reached the high- est pomt of cultivation yet. The tov.'n is sot •:»ff mto nine school-districts, and I consider that our privileges are fixst- rate. And if it 's nutting and squirrel-lmntir.g }ou 'ro after, ])oys, all you Itivo to do is to apply to Uncle Sampson, and he'U arrange your busmess for you." " Ten miles square and nine school-districts ! " Boston could be nothing to it, siu'clj', the boys thought. The incon- sistency of lalldng about pastui'a':je and tillage, nutting and squii'rel-huntmg in the pojiulous place which they imagined Merlenlle to be, did not strike them. This was literally their first glhnpse of Mcrlcv ille, for the I'uin had kept them within doors, and the mist had hidden all things the day before, and now they looked a little anxiously for the city they had pic- tured to themselves. "But Norman! Harry! I thmk this is far better than a town," said Marian, eagerly. "Eh, Graeme, isna yon a boimy water ?" " Ay, it s grand," said Graeme. " Norman, this is far bet- ter than a town." The people were beginnmg to gather iy> service by this time ; but the cliildren were too eager and too basy to heed them for awhile. AVitli an mterest that was half wonder, lialf dehght, Graeme gazed to the hills Jind (he water and the W JANET 3 LOVE AND SERVICE. 63 v'ille. liglit pret- arins )ettcr glider sioell, in tbo 'ore it strinill try. 3 yoitr The D liigli- bo nine L*c iii'st- e after, DD, and Boston incon- ig and Hagined y their within ore, and had pic- than a I yon a far bet- 3 bv this to heed ilcr, half and the lovely sky. It might l)c the "bonny day" — the mild air and the sunshine, and the now fan scene before her, or it might be the knowledge that after much care, and many perils, they were all safe together in this quiet place where they were to find a home ; she scarce knew what it was, but her heart felt strangely light, and lijis and eyes smiled as she stood there holding one of Marian's hands in hers, while the other wan dered through the curls of Will's golden han. She did not speak for a long time ; but the others were not so quiet, but whispered to each other, and pointed out the objects that pleased them most. "Yen's Merle river, I suppose, where we see the water glancing through the trees." " And yonder is the kirkyard," said Marian, gra\ciy, " It *s no' a bonny place." " It 's bare and lonel3--lookiug," said Harry. " They should have yew trees and ivy and a high wall, like where mamma is," said Marian. "But this is a new country; things are different here," said Norman. " But surely they might have trees." " And look, there are cows in it. The gate is broken. It 's a pity." "Look at yon road that goes round the water, and then up between the hills thi'ough the wood. That 's Ijonny, I 'm sm-e.'* " And there 's a white house, just where the road goes out of sight. I would like to live there." " Yes, there are many trees about it, and another house on tliis side." And so they talked on, till a famiUar voice accosted them. Their friend Mr. Snow was standuig beside them, lioldmg a pretty, but delicate httle girl, by the hand. He had been Watching them for some time. " Well how do you hko the looks of things ? " '•' It 's bonny here," said Marian. " AMiere 's the tovv'ii ? "' a.slied Hai-ry, promptly. ^^ M janet''s love and service. 11 Mr. Snow made a motion with bis head, intended to indi- cate the scene before them. " Lacks a fraction of being ten miles square." " It 's all ti-ees," said Httle WiU. " Wooden country, eh, my httle man ? " " Country ! yes, it 's more like the comitiy than like ft town," said Harrj. " Well, yes. On this side of the water, we can afford to have our towns, as big as some folks' countries," said Mi'. Snow, gravely. " But it 's like no town I ever saw," said Norman. " Tliero are no streets, no shops, no market, no anything that makes a town." "There 's freedom on them hills," said Mr. Snow, waving his hand with an air. During the jounicy the other day, Mr. Snow and the lads had discussed many things together ; among the rest, the institutions of their respective countries, and Mr. Snow had, as he expressed it, " Set then' British blood to bilin," by hints about "aristocracy," "despotism," and fo on. "He never had had such i\ good time," he said, afterwards. They were a little firey, but first-rate smai-t boys, and as good natu-ved as kittens, and he meant to see to them. He meant to amuse himscK with them too, it seemed. The boys fii'ed up at once, and a hot answer was only arrested on theii* hps, by the timely interference of Graeme. " AMiist, Norman. H.vrry, mind it is the Sabbath-day, and look yonder is papa coming up with Judge Merle," and turn- ing smihngly to ]VIi*. Snow, she added, " We like the place very much. It 's beautif id everywhere. It 's far bonnier than a town. I 'm glad there 's no town, and so are the boys, though they were disappointed at first." " No to\^^l ? " repeated Mr. Snow. But there was no time for explanations. Their father had reached the steps, and the children w^ere replying to the greeting of the Judge. Judge Merle, was m the opinion of the majority, the greatest man in MerlevUle, if not m the - i -a* J^VNKTS LOVE A^'D StilVICtJ. 55 idi: LG ft id to Ml*. riiero aalics Qghis e lads it, the ^v had, y hints never were atm'cd ant to cd up ips, by IV, and d turn- place )onnier e boys, ler had to the luon of m tho CoUutry. The children had njade his acquamtance on Satur- day. Ho had brought thein ^vith his own hands, thi'ough the rain, a pail of sweet milk, and another of hominy, a cii^ cumstancc w^iich gave them a high idea of his kindness of heart, but which sadly ovcrtiu-ned all their preconceived no- tions with regard to the dignity of his' office. Janet, who looked on the whole thing as a lirojoer tribute of respect to the min- ister, augured well from it, what he might expect in his new parish, and congratulated herself accordingly. The cliildren were glad to see him, among the many strangers around them, and when Mr. Snow gave him a famihar nod, and a, *' Morning Judge," Graeme felt a httle inclined to resent the famiharity. The Judge did not resent it, however. On tlic contrary, when j\Ir. Snow, nodding sideways toward the min- ister, said, " He guessed the folks would get about fitted this time," he nodded as familiarly back, and said, " He should n't wonder if they did." There are no such churches bnilt in New England now, as that into which the minister and his childi'en were led by the Judge. It was very large and high, and full of windovrs. It was the biiQiant light that stnick the cliildi'en ilrst, accus- tomed as they had been to associate with the Sabbath wor- ship, the dimness of their father's httle chapel in Clayton. Norman the mathematician was immechately seized with a pci-verse desire to count the panes, and scandalized Graeme by communicating to her the result of his calculation, just as her father rose up to begin. How many people there were in the high square pews, and ill the galleries, and even in the narrow aisles. So many, that Graeme not di'eamiiig of the quiet nooks hidden among the hills she had thought so beautiful, wondered where they all could come fi'om. Keen, intelligent faces, many of them were, that turned toward the minister as he rose ; a httle bard and fixed, perhajis, those of the men, and far too delicate, and care-worn, those of the women, but earnest, thoughtful faces, many of them were, and kindly withal. Afterwards — years and years afterwards, when the bairna m . ifi 1 1 ! 11 ' «6 Janet's love amd service. had to shut their eyes to recall thcu' father's face, as it gleamed down upon them from that strang-o high pulpit, the old i)eople, used to talk to them of this first sermon in Merleville. There was a charm in the Scottish accent, and in the earnest manner of the minister, which won itpon these peojile wonderfully. It was heart speaking to heart, an earnest, loving, human heart, that had sinned and had been forgiven, that had suf- fered and had been comforted ; one who, through all, had by God's gi'ace struggled upwards, speaking to men of like paS" sions and necessities. He spoke as one whom God had given a right to warn, to counsel, to console. He spoke as one who must give account, and his hearers hstened earnestly. So earnestly that Deacon Fish forgot to hear for Deacon Slowcome, and Deacon Slowcome forgot to hear for peoj^lo gejicrall}^ Deacon Sterne who seldom forgot anything which he behoved to be his duty, failed for once to prove the ortlio- doxy of the doctrine by comparing it with his own, and received it as it fell from the minister's lips, as the very word of God. " He moans just as ho says," said l\Ii*. Snow to young Mr. Grcenleaf, as he overtook him in going home that after- noon. " He was n't talking just because it was his business to. Wlien he was a telling us what mighty things the grace of God can do, he believed it himself, I guess." " They aU do, don't they ?" said jMi*. Greenleaf. " Well, I do n't laiow. They nil say they do. But there 's Deacon Fish now," said ]\Ii\ Snow, nodding to that worthy, as his wagon whirled past, "ho don't begin to think that gi'ace or anything else, could make me such a good man as he is." Mr. Greenleaf laughed. " If the vote of the town was taken, I guess it would be decided that grace wouldn't have a great deal to do." "Well, the town would make a mistaKt. Deacon Fish ain't to brag of for goodness, I don't think ; but he 's a sight better than I be. But see here, Squire, don't you think the new minister '11 about fit ? " to ••« not a co,„,uo„ ..l/ ' b'I"'''^- l)" '^ «»«y to «oe that 'f oy won-t fit him. It ":ouM b „ ' f ""' ■""'■' '""-o. or stay liera " °"'" '''' *°° Sooil l„ck J ho wore to ;n tS tt ^r ts VS' , 'r '^ "- ^* — ^" I g..os.s they -ll teep him if hov "1 '''"' ''^'"^ ''' ""-J «%■ He seems to ite t"e lo!v f ^i'"' '^"<' ^ ei.o.s.s he >1I niild-spoto man, aud 1 1 ° , "^ *'""f ' H<= « » *eaclf.J way of pay. I „„' , v„,,T^ f, ^° ''"'"' want much in thl S'l^irc' imoa,f"oT. ' '""' ''''"''• "'"'^ ""' some «f' "You area rich in on tvi„ o , "Como now, S !tt s"" i^"" ^"^ "^'-'J''-" foreveiy doliar I've It t ^■'""/- ^'™ "'"''kec' harder ever earned." ^°'' "'"" 3'°" 'vo done for any ten ^,1 The Sqmre shook Ins head. l:ou don't imderstaud mv linrl r , r?: 7- J^"' »bout the mTnfe or' TfT ' ~' '"'' ^""''' "'' «^'^f to any amount for his sunnorf T 7''' '° l''^''='« '^^J- tl^ouf^hlwereinameasm-ero^Sl/^'r''' feel j„st as >"o;.t of all things witli re4d?„ "^ «'« "S'-t -n-angc "long without any trouble ! 7 ' , '^''"'' *» J^^ve go ri„hl ^■ff^ntly than Vyti s' f "'T '''^*""« ^o'^ 1' imitter." ^ ''"'^ ^0 far, it won't be so m this " Yet '11 pay in the long „'„'' "'""^ "^"^'^ ^'ou say no. J ■Ihank you, Mr. g„^ „ °f;t." «aid Mr. Greeideaf as In ^''"''' '"'"'"' «"'! think , S" t'"g l«er place. It Und o' f ^*' "'° ™y "hanco -^'t ■• it lits on so niee o ^i^T"'^ ^ "-"=* I ought to fit . »*^°^^ *« f^^-^^Iose right^ff T ''f . ^''"^ ^"^ °''l Skin- ' '""^ "="■" "^'^ -ter fi;^- J ^ ^- to -ke things raise the ca^h. But i 58 JANE'l's LOVK AND 9EUVICE. # it doos seem as if I ought to have it. Maybe it *s Colestia the Squire wants, and not the farm." He came back to dose the gate which, in his earnestness, he had forgotten, and leaned for a moment over it. "Well, now, it docs beat all Here have I been forgetting all about what I have heard over yonder to the meeting- house. Deacon Sterne needn't waste no more words to prove total depravity to me. I 've got to know it pretty woll by this time ;" and, with a sigh, he turned toward the iiorjio. CHAPTER VII. rr'^HE next week was a busy one to all. Mr. iCUiott, dup I ing that time took up liLs residence at Judge Merle's, oiily making daily visits to the little brown house behind the elms where Janet and the bairns were putting things to rights. There was a gi'cat deal to bo done, l)ut it was Icjvel^ weather, and all were in excellent si)irits, and each did some- thing to help. The lads broke sticks and ciuricd water, and Janet's manmioth washing wa.s accomplished in an incredil)ly short time ; and before the week was over the little brown house began to look like a homo. A gi'cat deal besides ^vas accomplished this week. It was not all devoted to helping, by the bo}'s. Norman caught three squirrels in a trap of his o^^^l in^•ention, and HaiTy shot as many with Mr. Snow's wonderful rille. Tliey and Marian had made the circuit of the pond, over rocks, through bushes and brambles, over brooks, or through them, as the case might be. They came home th-ed enough, and in a state which naturally suggested thoughts of rinother mammoth washing, but in high spirits with their triji, only regi'etting that Graeme and Janet had not been with them. It was Saturday night, after a very bus}' week, and Janet had her o\m ideas about the enjoyment of such a ramble, and was not a little put out with them for " their thoughtless ruining of tlicii* clothes and shoon." But the minister had come home, and there was but a thin i")artilion between the room that nuist serve him for study and parlor, and the general room for the family, and they got off with a slight repri- mand, much to their surprise and delight. For to teU tho bnth, Janet's patience with the bairns, exhaustless in most S9 60 JANET d LOVE AND SERVICE. lii! II Mi circumstance!^, wari wont to give way in the presence of "togan to look wonderfully conifoHable. Janet's lovk and bkkvick. 01 With warm caii")ctfl on the lloors, and warm curljuns on the windows, with stoolH an«l Hofua, and tables mado ont of i)ji<*k- ing boxes, disguised in vuriouii wjus, it l)ej^an to have a look of home to tlieni all. The rain and the clouds passed away, too, and the last part of November was a hmg and lovely Indian Hmiuuor. Then the explorations of the boys were renewed with deh<^ht. Graeme and Rosio and Will went with the rest, and f;veu Janet was beguiled into a nutting excm-sion one afternoon. She enjoyed it, too, and voluntarily confesstjd it. It was a fair view to look over tlie pond and the village lying so quietly ui the valley, with the kirk looking down upon it fi'om above. It was a fine comitry, nobody could deny ; but Janet's eyes were sad enough as she gazed, and her voice shook as she said it, for the thought of homo was strong at her heaii:. In this month they made themselves thoroughly ac(iuaintcd with the geography of the place, and with the kindly in- mates of many a fiirm-liousc besides. And a hnppy raontii it was for them all. One night they watched the sun set between red and wavering clouds, and the next day woke to behold " the beauty and mystery of the snow." Far away to the highest hiU-toj) ; down to the very verge of pond and brook ; on every bush, and tree, and knoll, and over every silent valley, lay the white garment of winter. How strange I how wonderful ! it seemed to their luiaccustomed eyes, " It 'minds me of white gi-ave-clothes," said Mai'ian, with a shudder. " Whist, Menie," said her sister. " It makes me think of how fuU the air will be of Ijonnic wliite angels at the rcRiurection-day. Just watch the flakes floating so quietly in the air." " But, Graeme, the angels wiU be going up, and " " Well, one can hardly tell by looking at them, whether the snow-flakes are coming down or going up, they float about Bo silently. They mind mo of beautiful and peaceful tlimgs." 02 '#' JAWKT S H)Vi: ANU ShKVIt'i:. f i " I3iit, Gracino, it looks coM and dreiivy, ami all the boiiuio llowci'H nvi) covered in the dark." "Moiiie! Tiioro uro no ilo.vers to bo covered now, and the earth is wawy with her suninur work, and Mill rest and bleep nnder Uw. bonnio whiiO uuow. And, dear, vou nniHtna think of drearv thiii^^s ^vhen you look out npon the snow, for it will be a lonj^' time be; Tore we tjcc the ^a'cen ^rass and the bonnio llowers again," and (Iraeme .si,^"hod. But it was with a shout of ddi^^dit that the boys plunj^ed headlon*/ into it, rolling' and tunil)ling and tossing it at one another in a way that was " i)eri'eet ruijiation to their clothes ;" and yet Janet Jiad not the heart to forljid it. It was a holiday of a new kind to them ; and their enjoyment was crowned and completed when, ii' the afternoon, i^Ir. Snow came down with his box-sleigh and his two handsonio grciys to give them a sleigh-ride. There was room for tliem all, and for Mr. Snow's little Emily, and for half a dozen besides had they been there ; so, M^ell wrap[)ed np with blankets and bullalo-rooeH, away they went A\'as there ever anytliing so delightful, so e>diilarating? Even Graeme laughed and elapi)ed her hands, ;ind the greys Hew over the gi'onnd, and passinl every sleigh and sledge on the road. " The bonnie creatures ! " she exelaiiiied ; and jMr. Snow, who loved his greys, and was proud of them, took the oft- repeated exclamation as a comphment to himself, and drove in a way to show his favorites to the best iidvantage. Away they went, up hill and down, through the village and over the bridge, past the mill to the woods, where the tall hem- locks and cedars stood dressed in white "like brides." Marian had no thought of sorrowful th ngs in her heart now. They came home again the other way, past Judge Merle's and the school-house, singing and laughing in a way that made the sober-minded boys and girls of ]Merleville, to whom sleigh-rid- ing was no novelty, turn round in astonishment as they passed. The people in the store, and the people in the blacksmith's shop, and even the old ladies in their warm kitchens, opened the door and looked out to see the cause of the pleasant up ■ '-a.'U ■ '2^ : .«<•■' i>wW 1 UK M.hUai KlUK.— /. bi. Janet's love and service. m roar. All wore merrv, and all gave voice to their mirth except Mr. Snow's httle Emily, and she was too full of astonishment at the others to think of saying anything herself. But none of them enjoyed the ride more than she, though it was not her first by many. None of them all remembered it so well, or spoke of it so often. It was the beginning of sleigh-iid- :;ig to them, but it was the beginning of a new life to httle Emily. " Isna she a queer little creatm-e ? " whispered Harry to ( I raeme, as her great black eyes tm*ned from one to another full of grave wonder. " She 's a bonnie httle creature," said Graeme, caressing {he httle hand that had found its way to hers, " and good, too, I 'm sm'c." " Grandma don't thmk so," said the child, gravely. " No ! " exclaimed Harry. " "\Miat bad tlnngs do you do ? " " I drop stitches and look out of the windov,', and I hato to pick over beans." HaiTy whistled. " What an awful wee sinner 1 And docs your gi-andma punish you ever ? Does she whip you ? " The child's black eyes flashed. " She dare n't. Father would n't let her. She gives mo stints, and sends me to bed." " The Turk ! " exclaimed Harry. " Run away fi'om her, and come and bide with us." "Hush, Harr}'," said Graeme, softly, "gi-andma is Mr. Snow's mother." "' There was a ])ause. In a little Emily spoke for the lust time of her own accord. " There are no children at our house," said slie. ** Poor wee laminie, and you are lonely sometimes," said Graeme. " Yes ; when father 's gone and mother 's siclc Tlica there's nobody but gi'andma." " Have you a doll ? " asked Menio. " No : I liave a kitten, though." I 04 JA^•L•T S LOVE AND SERVICE. " All ! you must coino and play with my dolL She is a perfect beauty, aud her name is Flora Macdonald." Mcnie's doll had become much more valuable in her esti- mation since she had created such a sensation among the little Merle ville girls. " Will you come ? jMi". Snow," she said, chmbing upon the front seat which Norman shared with the driver, " won't, you let your little girl come and see my doll ? " " Well, yc3 ; I guess so. If she 's half as pretty as you are, she is well worth seeing." Menie wf. < down again in a minute, " Yes, you may come, he says. And bring your kitten, aTid we '11 play all day. Graeme lets us, and dousna send us to bed. Will you like to come ? " " Yes," said the child, quickly, but as gi'avely as ever. They stopped at the little brown house at last, with a shout that brought then- father and Janet out to see. All sprang hghtly down. Little Emily staid alone in the sleigh. " Is this your little girl, :Mr. Snow ? " said Llr. EUiott, tak- ing the child's hand in his. Emily looked hi his face aa gi'avcly and quietly as she had been looking at the childi'en all the afternoon. " Yes ; she 's }-our ]Mariaii's age, and loolm a little like her, too. Don't you think so Mrs. Nasmyth ? " Janet, thus appealed to, lo(jked kindly at the child. *" She might, if she had any llesh on her bones," said she. " Well, she don't look ragged, that 's a fact," said her father. The cold, which had brought the roses to the cheeks of the little EUiotts, had given Emily a blue, pinched look, which it made her father's heart ache to see. " The baini 's cold. Let her come in and warm herself," said Janet, promptly. There was a chorus of entreaties from the children. " Well, I don't know as I ought to wait. My horses don't ike to stand much," said Mr. Snov/. "Never mind waiting. If it's too far for us to inko her home, you can come down for her in the evening." ^^%- Janet's love and service. G5 Eiuily looked at Ler father wistfully. " Would yoii like to stay, dear ? " asked ho. " Yes, sir." And she was lifted out of the slei[(li by Janet, and carried into the house, and kissed before sho waa set do^ia. " I '11 be along down after dai'k, sometime," said IVlr. Snow as he di'ove away. Little Emily had never heard so much noise, at least so much pleasant noise, before. Mr. Elliott i^at down beside the bright wood fire in the kitchen, with Murinn on one knee and the little stranger on the other, and listened to the exclamations of one .and all about the sleigh ride. " And liae you nothing to say, my bonnie wee lassie ? " said ho pushing back the soft, brown hau' from the little grave face. " What is yoiu* name, httle one ? " " Emily Snow Arnold," answered she, promptly. " Emily Arnold Snow," said Mcnio, laughing. " No ; Emily Snow Arnold. Grandma says I am not father's own little girl. jMy father is dead." She looked grave, and so did the rest " But it is just the same. lie loves you." " 0, yes ! " There was a bright look in the eyes for onco. "And you love him all the same ? " "O, yes." So it ^vas. Sampson Snow, with love enough ui liis heart for half a dozen children, had none of his own, and it was all lavished on tliis child of his wife, and she loved him dearly. But they chd not have "good times" up at theii house the httle girl confided to (rracme. " Mother is sick most of the time, and gi'andma is cross always ; and, if it was n't for father, I don't know what wo \hfiuld do." Indeed, they did not have good times. Old ]\L*s. Snow had always been strong and healtliy, altogether unconscious of " neiTes," and she could have no sympathy and veiy htUo pity for his son's sickly wife. She had never liked her, even when she was a gu*l, and her girlhood was past, and she had N^ % 60 Janet's love and service. been a sorrowful widow before her son brought her homo aa his ^vifc. So old Mrs. Snow kept her place at the head of the household, and was hard on everybody, Ijut more especially *di her son's wife and her little girl. If there had been chil- /reu, she might have been different ; but she almost resented her son's warm affection for his Httle step-daughter. At anyj rate she was determined that httle Emily should be brought up as children used to be brought up when she was yomig, and not spoiled by over-indulgence as her mother had been ; and the process was not a pleasant one to any of them, and " good times " were few and far between at their house. Her acquainianco with the minister's chilJu'en was the bo- ginning of a new hfe to Emily. Her father opened his eyes ^vith astonishment when ho came mto Janet's bright Idtchen that night and heard his little girl laughing and clapping her hands as men'ily as any of them. If anything had been needed to deepen his interest m them all, theu* kindness to tlie child would have done it ; and from that day the minister and his ck^ldren, and Mrs. Nasmyth, too, had a firu: and true fiiend 11 ^Ii*. Snow. CHAPTER VIII. FROINI the time of their arrival, tlio minister ami his family excifed gi'eat curiosity and interest amon<^ the good peojilo of Merlevillo. The minister himself, as Mr. Snow told ]\Irs. Nasmyth, was " popubir." Not, however, that any one among tb.^m all thought him faultless, unless j\L*. Snow himself did. Every old lad> in the town saw something in him, which she not secretly deplored. Indeed, they were more imanimous, with regard to the minister's faults, than old ladies generally are on important subjects. The matt<3r was dispassionately discussed at several succesi-jive se\\ing- cLrcles, and when Mrs. Page, summing up the evidence, sol- emnly declared, "that though the minister was a good man, and a good preacher, he lacked considerable in some things which gc* to make a man a good pastor," there was scarcely a dissenting voice. Mrs. Merle had ventured to hint, that, " they could not ex- pect eveiything in one man," but her voice went for nothing, as one of the minister's offonces was, ha\ing been several times in at the Judge's, while he suifully neglected others of his flock. " It 's handy by," ventui*ed Mrs. ^lerle, again. But the Jud^j's wife was no match for the blacksmith's lady, and it was agi'ced by all, that whatever else the minister might be, ho was " no hand at visiting." True he had (hvided the town into thstricts, for the piu'poso of regularly meeting the people, and it was his custom to announce from the pulpit, the neighborhood in which, on certain days, lie might be ex- pected. But that of course, was a formal matter, and not at all like the alTectionato intorco;iv;jo that ought to exist bo 68 JANKT S LOVE AND BKRVIOE. I Jl twocn a pastor and his pcoplo. " Ho might preach like Paul," said Mrs. Paj^e, " but unless on week days ho water- ed the seed sown, with a word in season, the hai*vest would never be gathered in. The minister's face ought to be a fa- miliar sight in every housciiold, or the youth would never l^e brought into the fold, ' aiA the lady sighed, at the case of the youth, scattered over the ten miles square of Merleville. The miiiister was not sinning in ignoiance either, for she herself, had told hiui his duty in this respect. " And what did he say ?" asked some one. " Oh ! he did n't say mucli, but I could see that his con- science was n't easy. However, there has been no improve- ment yet," she added, with grave severity. •'He hain't got a liorse, and I've heard say, that deacon 5Msh charges him six cents a mile for his horse and cutter, whenever he has it. He could n't afford to nde round much at that rate, on five hundred dollars a year." This bold speech was veutiu'cd by Miss Rebecca Pettimore, Mrs. Captain Liscome's help, who took tm-ns with that lady, in attending the sewing-circle. But it was well known, that hIio was always " ou the off side," and Mrs. Page deigned no rci:)ly. There was a moment's silence. " Eli heard Mr. Snow say so, in Page's shop j'esterday," added Rebecca, who always gave her autliority, when she re- j)eated an item of news. IMrs. Fish, fook her up shai*])ly. "Sampson Snow had better let the minister have his* horse and cutter, if he can afford to do it, for nothing. Mr. Fish can't." " My goodness, Mis' Fish, I would n't have said a word, if I'd thought you were licre," said l^ebecca, with an oiabar- rassed laugh. *' INIi'. Snow often dlives the minister, and thinlifi himself \^ell paid, just to have a talk with him," said a prettj^^bh^ck- cyed girl, trying to cover Rebecca's retreat. Bu\^ Jlej^ecca would n't retreat. '*^ .. - '* I did n't mean any offence, Mis' Fish, and if it ain't so about the deacon, you can say so now, l^efore it goes farther." JANirr's LOVE AND BEIlVICi:. 69 no But it was not to be contradictc.l, and that ]Mrs. Fisli well knew, though what busmcss it was of anybocly'H, and why the niinifiter, who scorned to be well olT, sliould n't pay for the use of a horse and cutter, she couldn't uudorstand. The subject was changed by LIrs. Slowcome. " He must have piles and piles of old sennons. It don't seem as though he needs to sj^end as much time in his study, as Mrp. !N: smyth tells about." Here there was a nnu-inur of dissent. "Would sermons laado for the British, be such as to suit free-boni American citizens ? the childi*en of the Puritans ? The prevailing feel- ing was against such a supposition. " Old or new, I like them," said Celeritia Jones, the pretty black-eyed girl, who had sj^olcen before. " And so do others^ who are better judges than I." "Squiro Greenlcaf, I suppose," said Jiul)y Fox, in a loui? whisper. . " He was np there last Sund;iy riight ; she has beca aching to lefi it all the afternoon." Celestia'yblack eyes flasned fire at the speaker, and the sly Ruby saidjsio more. Indeed, there was no more said about the sermdAs, for that tliey were something for the Merleville people to ber proud of, all agi'ced. Mr. Elliott's preaching . had .fillea the old meeting-house. People who had never ..Joeen regular churdligoers came now ; some from out of the .Tbwn, even. Young Squne Greenlcaf, who seemed to have the prospect of succeeding Judge Merle, as the great man of Merleville, had brought over the judges from liixford, and tHey had dined at the minister's, and had come to chmrh on Suiiday. Young Squire Greenlcaf was a triumph of himself. He had never been at meeting " nuich, if any," since he had completed his legal studies. If he ever did go, it was to the Episcopal churcli at Bixford, which, to the lil>cral Mi's. Pago, looked considerably hke co(iuettmg with the scarlet woman. Now. he hardly ever lost a Sunday, besides going sometimes to conference meetings, and making frecpient visits to the minister's house. Having imt all these things together, and 'V)naidMred the matter, Mrs. Page came to the conclusion, 70 Janet's love and sicuvice:. I I } that tlie squii'O was not in so hopeless a condition as she had l)een wont to suppose, a fact, which on this occasion, she took the opportunity of rejoicing over. The rest rejoiced too. There was n murmur of dissent from Miss Pettimore, but it [)asscd unnoticed, as usual. There was a gleam which look- ed a httle hke scorn, m the black eyes of Miss Celestia, which said more plauily than IMiss Pettimore's words could have done, that the squire was better now, than the most in iNIerleville, but lik" a wise yo^uig person as she was, she ex- pended all her st> mf -i glances on the shirt sleeve she waa making, and said n>,t*.ri;i: The mniistGr was i cu ai' ■ .ved to rest a httle while, and the other members of the family were discussed, with equal in- terest. Upon the whole, the conclusicm arrived at was pretty favorable. But IMi's. Page and her friends were not quite satisfied with Graeme. As the muiister's eldest daughter, and " serious," they were (lisposed to overlook her youthful- ness, and give her a prominent place in their circle. But Graeme hung back, and would not be prevailed upon to take such honor to herself, and so some said she was 'proud, and some said she wjis only shy. But she was kindly deidt with, even by Mrs. Page, for her loving care of the rest of the chil- di*en, had won for her the love of many a motherly heart among these kind people. And she was after all but a child, little more than fifteen. There were numberless stories afloat about the boys, — ^their mirth, their mischief, their good scholarship, their respect and obedience to their father, which it was not beneath the dignity of the ladies assembled to repeat and disciLss. The boys had visited faithfully through the parish, if their father had not, and almost everywhere they had won for them- selves a welcome. It is true, there had been one or two rather serious scrapes, in which they had involved themselves, and other lads of the village ; but kind-hearted people forgot the mischief sooner than the mirth, and Norman aaid HaiTy were very popular among old and young. But the wonder of wonders, the riddle that uono could I^0\ h AND SKiiVlci,-, ''f ''. tU ano,„aJv in Ar , ■„ " ^^ ."--<' •■- ;,.Sx';'r r- "'° '"^'* w .rt'''"': "«eiTantf"o} ^^^ ^^^^^tatiou aU Am] -o *^«eo about I saw her ,nvs,,jf «„• f i !, "'"•''' ««^m mv-vt 1.^ • , -• o see that littjp mV] "Wliv ../ ^ "^^ ^i*«t timr- in f 1 • «aii» Miss house 'iij';;"" ''°^'^ J"'^' -hat ." , " <'«"."^-«""- r- ho.:i nt;^™-''^;^-.. :-^;- you.;. Na.s.,,,i, „,^ .,^,^ ^.^^^^_^^s ^, "'?/'- •« .o. here, I ^J f^^ ^<^^ «P so. ft now ^ ««Wose •se.vao.t ■ there n,T '" '' "^ ^''''^ "' "." 1 V2 JANT .1 d LOVK AND RERVICE. I Ml (loos hero. ^rhvVii don't seem to be differcnco enougb to talk about," Hiiid llel)ccc'a. " I sec consideruljlc diil'i-ronco," said Mrs. Merle's yoiin^T lady. "It beats all," said another. Yes, it did l)eat all. It was inconiprclicnsiblo to thesa dignified people, how Janet could openly acknowledge herself a servant, and yet retain hov self-respect. And that " Mrs. Nasniyth thought considerable of herself," many of the ciirioua ladies of IMerlevillo had occasion to know. The relations ex- isting between her and " th(! bairns," could not easily bo understot)d. She acknowledged htsrself then* servant, yet she teproved th(Mn when tliey deserved it, and that sharply. Sho enforced obedience to all rules, and governed in aU household niat^(}rs, none seeking to dispute her right. They went to her at all times with their troubh^s and then pleasures, and sho symp:ithizcd ^\ith them, advised them, or consoled them, as the case might need. That they were as the very apple of her eye, was evident to all, and that they loved her dearly, and respected her entirely, none could fail to see. Thci'o were stories going about in the ^^llago to prove that she had a shaq) ton|.(uo in her head, and this her warmest friends did not seek to deny. Of course, it was the duty of all the female part of the congi'egation to visit at the minis- ter's house, and to give such advice and assistance, with re- gard to the arrangements, as might seem to be requij-ed of ^lem. It is possible they took more interest in the matter than if there had l)een a mistrc^ss in the house. " More liber- ties," Janet indignantly declared, and after the first nsitation or two she resolutely set her face against what she called the answering of impertinent (questions. According to her own confession, she gave to several of them, whose interest in their v.ffaii's was expressed w ithout due discretion, a " downsetting," and Graeme and the boys, and even IMr. Elliott, had an idea that a downsotting from Janet must be something serious. It is true her victims' ignorance of the Scottish tongue must Lave taken the edge a httlo olf her shai-p words, but there was I ''^'"'* ^OVE ^,^ SEUVICK. 78 '"toed tl,cinse]ves iieisl.bor. %-, ""''■■■'' «l"aro," «,„ " t!.o cxceUonce and variety of, ""^'"^■'^ "" """>re '"cy i-opped i„ ou one another in "f i'i ^'^ '"• "™''e<', u JANKt'b love and bEKVIOli. Borely bognul^^ed ilw time tiikon £i-oin the minidter's bookfl^ to tho eutertainniont of " ilka idle body that took leave to conio in." It gavo her gi'cat dolif^bt to kcc him really intor* csted Avilli visitorH, Ijut hIio set her face against hia being troubled at all hours on every day in the week. " If it 'h anything particular I 'U tell tho minister you 're here," she used to say ; "but ho bade tho bairns be (juiet, and I doul)t he woul(hia like to be disturbed. Sit dowu a minute, and I '11 sjx'ak to Miss Graeme, aud I dare say tho minister will be at leisiu'o shortly." Generally tlio visitor, by no nunuis displeased, sat down in lier bright kitchen for a elwit with her and the children. It was partly these evening visits that won for ISIrs. Nasmyth lior i")opularity. Even in her gloomy days — and she had Bomo days gloomy enough about this time — she would exert lierself on such an occasion, and with tho help of the young people tho visitor was generally well entertained. Such singing of songs, such telling of tales, such discussions r.s were carried on in the pleasant firelight! There was no such hing as time? lagging there, and often tho nine o'clock wor- ship came before the visitor was aware. Even Judge Merle and y(^ung Sipiu'o Greenleaf were some* tunes detained in the kitchen, if they happened to come in oil a night when the minister was more than usually engaged. "For you see, sii*," said she, on one occasion, "what with ao thing and what with anithcr, the nunister has had so many inten-uptions this week already, that I chnna lilvo to distm-b him. But if you '11 sit douii here for a minute or two, I dare- say he '11 be ben and I '11 speak to Miss Graeme." " Mr. Elliott seems a close student," said the Judge, as he took the oilered seat by the fire. " Ay, is he. Though if you are like the lavo o' the folic, you '11 think no more o' him for that. Folk o' my country judge o' a minister by the time he spends in his study ; but hero he seems hardly to be thought to be in tho way of his duty, unless he 's ca'ing about from house to house, heark ening to ilka auld wife's tale." hi kfl. to tcv II 're uict, vu ft y tllO yii in ii. It smytU c \i^^ \ exert youn-^ SueU .0 BUcH fck ^vor• ^e soiuo- tic in ou rageil. lat witli io many distui-b . 1 dare- be, as lie Itlic folk, \r country [a study; le vray of [3e,lieark JANET B LOVE ANT) SEUVIOE. 7i *'But,"Baid tho Judf^'o, much amused, "tlio naniator lias been Hludyiii^ all his life. It seems as th()U<^'li lie luv^hi draw on old storcM now." "Ay, but out o' the old storos ho muHt brinpf now matter. Tho mhii.stor'.s no one that puts his people olt' with •cuulil kiiil hot a^^aiii,' and he <'auna make sermous and rin hero uuil there at the same time." "And ho can't attend to visitors and i/iako Rormons at tho pamo time. That would bo to tho point at present," said tho Judg(% laughing, "I think I'll be going." " 'Deod, no, sir," said Janet, earnestly, " I didna mean you I 'm aye glad to see you or any sensible person to convcrsij with the minister. It clictTs him. But this week it 's been worse than ever. Ho hii'i hardly had an unbroken horn*. "B;/ sit still, sir. Ho would be ill pleaseil if you went away with- out seeing him." "I'll speak to papa, Judge IMorlo," said Graomo. " Never mind, my dear. Conic and sjieak to me yourself. I think Mrs. Nasmyth is nght. Tho minister ought not to 1x3 distur])C(l. I have notliing particular to say to him. I came because it's a pleasiu'o to come, and I did not think about its being so near tho end of the week." Graeme looked rather anxiously fi'om him to Janet. " My dear, you needna trouble yourself. It 's no' folk liko the Judge and young Mr. Greenleaf that will bo likely to tuko umbrage at bemg kept waiting a wco while hero. It 's folk like tho 'smith yonder, or Orrin (Jreen, the upsottin' body. But you can go in now and see if your papa 's at loisu.re, and tell him the Judge is here." " We had Mr. Greenleaf here awhile the ithor night," shn continued, ar Graeme disappeared. " A nice, pleasant spoken gentleman he is, an no' ae bit o' a Yankee." The Judge opened his eyes. It was rather an cquivorjii compUment, considering the person to whom she spoke. But he was not one of the kind to take offence, as Janet j'lstly said. -a^ ir ! CHAPTER IX. ^ M O'L'ilEU favorites of Mrs. Nasiiiyth's wore Mr, Snow niul ilio H<'lio()lmaster, nml the Rocrct of licr into-ost in Hum was lluir interest in the bainis, aiul tlieir visits w( ra made as often to the Idtclion as to the study. Mr. Snow Jiad be( 11 their fiieiul from the very first. He had made jifood his l)roihis<> as to nuttin*^ jind S(inirrel hiiutinj^'. He had tau^^ht them to skate, and giviii them tlieir fhv.t slei<_jhri« le ; ho had lu'lped them in the makin*^ of sh'ds, and never camo down to tlu! vilhij^'e biit witli liis poekots full of rosy appkjs to the ht- tJe ones. They mad(! many a day pk)asant for liis httk) ^irl, both at his houso and tlicirs ; and he thought nothmg too much to do for thoso Avho were kind to Emily. JaiiCit's kind heart had been touehcd, and her unfailing energies exercised in l)ehalf of Mi'. Snow's mclaneholy, ner- vous wife. In upon the monotony of her lifci siie had burst Hko a ray of wintry sunshine into her room, brightening it to at least a momentary cheerfulness. During a kmg and tedious illness, from whieh slu! had suftVrt;d, soon after the mmistcr's arrival in ]\lerlevine, Janet had watched with her a good many nights, and tho only visit which the partially-restored invalid niadr during the winter '■>hieh stirred so nuieh pleas- ant life among them, was vt the minister's, where she was wonderfully cheered by the kindness of them all. But it was seklom tiMit hhe could bo prevailed upon to leave her wanu I'noiM in ,\iutry v.eather, and Sa))»pson's visits wero madu alone, or in company with little Emily. The st^ioolmaster, Mr. Isaac Newton Foster, eamo often, partly l)ecaUi.^ lie liked tho lads, and partly b(!eauso of hia fonthiess for mathematics. Tho night of hia visit was always h JANIOT's love and BERViLiE. 71 V aiul )Ht ill , ^VliH^ ,v li:ul lhI bin 10 liiul )\vii to tho lit- lo ^nil, Liig too ifaiVm^' y, iu;i'- I l»ursfc v^ it to A'lUoUS [lister's II ^,'0011 t'Htorccl lio was it NVll(\ L' ^vann I) iiuulu often, of Ilia lalwaya honored by tho light of an extra candle, for lii.s appearance was tho sifj^nal for tho l)ringin;;* fortli of slates and hookR, anc' it was wonderful what plcasiiro thoy all got togctlu'r from tho mysterious figures and syiu])olH, of which they never seemed to grow Aveary. Graeme, from being iiiterestcHl in the progress of her broth- ers, soon became hiterested in ihiAr studi'^s for their own Bake, and Mr. Foster had not a more d(icile or successful pupil than sho became. Jar.et had h'-r doubts abcmt her "talcing np witli boohs tliat were fit oniy for /a'A//V>','' but "Mr. l'\»sler ja'oved, with m:my wcmls, that her ideas wern altogether old-fashioned on the subject, and as tho minister did not ()))ject, and (Iraemo herself had great delight in it, she made no ()l)jecti()i!s. IL r first opinion on tlie school- uiaster had ])een that \u) was a well-m(>aniiig, harmles;-) lad, and it was given in a toiu^ whieli said plainer llian words, that little more could lie pnt forlli in his favor, ihit by and by, as she watched him, and saw the inlluence for good which he exerted over the lads, kee[)ing them from nuschief, and really inter<\sting them in tlu ir studies, '-he came to have a great r(>s])ect for Mr. Fosti-r. ]hit all the evenings when ^VFr. Foster was with them wero not ^^ven np to lessons. "When, as sometimes hnjipened, iNIr. Snow or iMr. CJr(>enleaf came in, something much more excitr ing took the place of ^Vlgebra. ^Ir. (Ireenleaf was not usually tho chief speaker on such occasions, bnt ho had the faculty of making the rest speak, jind having engagcnl the lads, and sometimes even (Jraeme and Janef, in the «liscussion of somo cyeiling (question, often the comparative merits of tho institu- tions of their respective couiihies ho would leave tho l)tu*den i;f the argument to the willing Mr, Foster, while he assumed tho positi(m of audience, or pnt in a v.'ord now and then, it-J the occasion seemed to require. They Keld«)m lost their tem- pers when ho was tliere, as they sometimes did on l(!ss favored occasions. For Janet and Jan(;t's bairns were prompt to dd battle where tho honcn* of their country was c(mcenicd, and Uiough ]\Ir. Foster was good nature itself, he sometimes rs JANKTS LOVE AND SKRVICR. offended. Ha could not conscientioiiHly withhold the mipo rior \Vfi;]ii Nvhieh he owed to his birth and edueatiou in a land of libei-ty, if lie mifjfht, (hspel tlui darkness of old-world pr^'jii- dice in which his IViends were enveloped. i\[r. Snow was ready too witli his hinis about " despotism" and " aristocracy," and on such occasions the lads never faileil to tlir(3W theni- r?elv(»s headlong into the thick of the battle, with a lierce do- sire to deniohsh Illinois in jjfeneral, and Yankee institutions in particular. It is to be. feared the disputants were not always very consistent in the arf^unients they used ; but their earnestness made up ft>r their bad logic, and the hot words sp(»k(n on botli sides were never remembered when tlie morrow came. A chance word of the master's had set them all at it, one ni;^dit when INIr. Snow came in ; and books and slates were for^^)ttcn in the eaj^'erness of the ihsput(\ The lads were in dan;^^er of forf^etting the respect due to ATr. Foster, as their teacher, at such times ; but he was slow to resent it, and Mr. Snow's silent lau,t>ht«'V testitied to his enjoyment of this particular occasion. The strife was {^'cttiiij^f warm when i\lr. (ir(>enleaf's knock was heard. Nonuan was in the act of hurling some hundred thousands of black slaves at the schoolmaster's devoted head, while ]\Ir. Foster strove hard to shield himself by holding up "Britain's ^\Tetched opera- tives and starving |)oor." 'Come along, Sijuire," said Mr. Snow. "We want you to settle this YiiWc. dilliculty. Mrs. Nasmyth ain't going to let ycni into the study just now, at least h\u) would n't let me. The mun'ster 's busy to-night.'* Mr. (Ireenleaf, nothing loath, sat down and (h-ew Marian to his knee. Neither Norman nor Mr. Foster was so eager to go on as Mr. Snow was to have them ; but after a little judicious stirnng up on his })art, tliey were soon in "full blast," as ho whispither vrry lo;^ieal nor very reasonable, and Mr. Foster complained at last. "But, Norman, you don't kee^) to the pouit." " Talks all r. )un(i the lot," said :^rr. Snow. " I 'm afraitl that is not conlhied to Norman," said 3Ir. Greenleaf. "Nonnan is ri«^'hl, anyway," pronounced Menie. *' He reasons in a circle," said thi! master. "And because slavery is the oidy Haw in " "The only Haw!" said Norman, with awfid irony. "Well, ye;?," interi)osed .Air. Snow. " ]3ut w^ have had enouj^h of Llie Constitution for to-ni<;ht. Let 's look at our coimtry. // tan't be luuiten any way you take it. Pliysically or morally," pursu(Hl he, with {^reat j^'ravity, "it can't be beaten. There are no such mountains, rivca-s, nor lakes as our's are. Our laws and our institutions «j[enerally are just fcbout what they ou;^ht to be. Kven forei;^ners see that, and prove it, by comin;^' to share our privile<^a's. Where will you Ihid such a f^eneraldilViisionof knowledge amouj^ all classes? Classes? There is only one class. ^Ul ar(! free and e(|ual." ( "Folk thinkiu-' themselves equal doesna muh) them cfjual," said Mrs. Nasmyth, to whom the last remark h:t-.- thing and evei7thing in this comitry. "We 'ro a gi*' al poo. 'le. Ain't that so, Mr. Foster?" "It nmst be granted l)y all ui^Tejudieed !,.;M"i*r !ha'. Britain has produced some ; »-"at men," saiei !vli. Foj-ter, breaking out in a new spot, a^ sir Snow whispered to tho S you ^\hen \ou don't vex Graeme." "And who else?" asked Mi'. Grcenleaf. "I like Celestia. She's nice, and doe^ .a ask questions. And so does Graeme. And Janet says tliat Celestia is a lady. Don't you lilvo her ?" asked Menie, thiiikin,'-- her friend un- responsive. "You seem to be good at asking ([uestions yourself, i\[enio, tny woman," interjiosed Mvh. Nasmyth. ' I doubt you should be in yoiu* bed by this time," ]3ut Mr. Snow causod a tlivorsion £i*om anything so n\e1ancholy. W^ i^aii 'I 8^ JANETS LOVE A.Nn RKRVICK I "And don't Cousin CclcBtia liko Lie?" askod lie. "Yes ; hIk) Hiiid you ware a good friend of hers ; I'lit i^ si:* foiu' counin ? " "^^'ell, not exactly — we're not very near cousins. 13iit 1 see to her some, and mean to. I like her." The study door opencul, and there was no time for an answer fi-oni any one ; but as Mr. Snow went up the hill ho ;..ja to hiiiiSLll": " Yrs, 1 sliall kco to hur. S'.ic i.s siuiiit enou",'!! iind good enough lor him if ho docs expect to go to Cougresi." HI CHAPTER X. ^^ "T" LIKE tho wootl ihos,'" Htiid Graciuo. "Thoy ai-c far _!__ clearer limn the peat tires at homo." They were Kittinj,', Clraeuie and Janet, ac('orcHi)f]f to theh* usvial custom, a little after the otliern had all ^oiie to.hed. The Ktudy-door waH closed, tlion},'h the h^dit still {^learned beneath it ; bnt it way getting' late, and the minister would not he out ajifain. (Iraenio miglit well a(hiiire such a wt)od tiro as that be- fore which th(!y were sittin;,'. The fore-sticlr had nearly burned throuj^h, and tlie brands h; 1 talleu over the and- irons, but the great baek-log glowed witl; light and heat, though only now and then a bright blaze lea[»t up. It was not very warm in the rooni, however, except t\)r their faces, ancl Graeme shivf^red a little as slu* drew nearer to the fire, and hardly heeding that Janet did not answer her, fell to di'caming in the firelight. Without, the nido INIareh winds wore roaring, and within, too, for that matter. For though carpets, and curtains, and listings nailed over seams might keep out tlie bittir frost when the air was still, the east winds of INIarch swept in tlu'ough every crack and crevice, chilling them to the l)one. It roared wildly among the boughs of the great elms in the yard, and the tall well-sweep creaked, and the bucket swung to and fro with a noise that came thnuigh (baeme's dream and disturbed it at last. Tjooking up suddenly she became Aware that the gloom that had been gathering over Janet for many a day luuig dfirklv round lier now. She village bla<'lvsmith. and it there was a lady belweeu them IMrs. I'age cvidcntlv believed it to bo herself. j\Irs. lyferle was " a nice motherly body, that sat on her seat and behaved iiersell', wliih* jMrs. Pago went hither and thither, opening doors and spyiii;;- fairlics, S]ieiring about things she had no concern with, like an ill- bred woman as she is ; and passing her remarks on tlio minister and tlu^ preaching, as if she were a judge." IJotli of them had invited her to visit them very kindly, no doubt} but Janet had no satisfaction in this or in anything that con- cerned th(>m. She was out of her element. Things W(>ru quite dillerent from anything sh(» had been used with. Sho gi'ew depressed and doubtful of herself, and no wonder that a gloom was gathering over her. Sonu! thought of all tliis came into (iraeme's nfind, as slio Bat watching her while she gatli(>red together the brands with iinstemly hands, and with the thought came a little remorse. Bho had been thinking little of Janet and her trials all thcso days she had b(>en ])asshi/,' so pleasantly with her books, in the corner of her father's study. IShc; blamed herself for her thoughtlessness, and resolved that it siiould not bo so in future. In th(; mean time, it seemed as though sho m\ist say Bomothiug to ehase the shadow from the kind face. But she .TANKT8 LOVE AND KEIiVICE. B7 .ha liUi L-SC. U'HO in \\xvv in Isay did not know what to Hay. Janrt Hot down tho tonps, and rained herself with a Hi^^li. (iruenio drew nearer. "What Ih it, Jaiiit?" aHked nhe, kvLn^' her hand caress- ingly ou her'H. " Winua yon tell inoV" Janet gave a startled look into ln'r faeo. " "What is what, my dear ? " '* Something ia vexing you, and you winna tell me," Raid Graeme, reproaehfiilly. " Hoot, lasHie ! what Rhould ail mo. I 'm weel enough." *' You are w earning for a lett<'r, mayW'. Ihit it's hardly time yet, Janet." " I m no wearyin' tho night more than usual. And if I got a letter, it mightna givo me muckle comfort." " Then something ails you, and you winna tell mo," said Graeme again, m a grieved voice. **My dear, I liiio naetliing to tell." "Is it me, Janet? Hao I done anything? You k(>n I ^ouldna willingly do wrong?" pleaded (Jnieiue. Janet put hor lingers over the girl's lijis. "Whist, my lamniie. It's nacthing — or naetliing that can be holpit," and she struggled fiercely to keep hack tho Hood that was s\N^ \ «^ <^ % V ^0 ff ■%^ o'^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 88 janet'h love and service. I,:. 1:1 There was notliing Graeme could say to tliis ; but she laid her check down on Janet's hand again, and there were tears ui^on it. " Now dinna do that, Mim Graeme," cried Janet, struggling with another wave of the returning flood. " AVhat will como o' us if you give ^vay. There 's naething ails me but that I m an auld fnlc, and I canna help that, you ken." " Jancit, it was an awful sacrifice you made, to leave your mother and Sandy to come with us. I never thought till to- njglit how gteat it must have been." " Ay, lassie. I 'U no deny it, but dhina think that I grudge it now. It wasna made in a right sperit, and that the Lord iy showing me. I thought vor couldna do without me " "AYc coiddna, Jauct." " And I aye thought if I could be of any use to yoiu* ftiher and your fathe?-'s bairns, and could see them contented and well hi a strange land, that would be enough for me> And I hac gotten my wisli. You 're a' wccl, and weel contented, and my heart is lying in my breast as heavy as lead, and no strength of mine can lift the bui'den. God help me." "God will help you," said Graeme, softl}^ "It is the sore homesickness, like the captives by Babel stream. But the Lord never brought you here in anger, and, Janet, it will pass away." " Wcel, it maybe. That 's what .^\y mother said, or some- thing like it. He means to let me see that you can do with- out me. But I '11 bide still awhile, anj^vay." Graeme's face was full of dismay. " Janet ! what coukl we ever do wdthout you ? " " Oh, you could learn. Eut, I 'm not going to leave you yet. The giant shallna master me with my will. But, oh ! lassie, whiles I think the Lord has turned against me for my self-seeking and pride." "But, Janet," said Graeme, gravely, " the Lord never turns against liis own people. And if anybody in the world is fi'ee fi'om self-seeking it is you. It is for us you are living, and not for yourself." n a i •'A^i^T-S LOVJ, AND SKKViCE. g^ Janet shook her head A.U], Jauet, „b„„t Su,,,!,- 1- v " ''""'^ "*'■ ^ '"' «'"o it will, you had Ijceu tlioro to .n,;,l ', ■ ." """' ''" "'"'<' "' l'""- If f..J. and have gone asl: j. ""V" "'"''' ^'^^ '-n J- «ill Lave hin> I ffis to ' • ""r' ^"' "°"- "- Lor.I el..ld was left to the I^"^ ^^^ ^'"' ^ ■' -<- a fatherlea, t^aiiets tears weiv fo] ),•,,„ c m after the tempest i,, ov« ^''.k H ' V""' i''^" '^" '^"^''^ -"l^ mn the lieavens. "'" '^"^'' ^^ l'™'"i«c' i« about to "Aiid, Janet, we 'ill l,.-t.^ -1 put he. a..:. « ,.C,:tt'' - •^™^"- ''-' --. the bo3.s are rougl, and don' tnl "^ ";^". " •'"'"^«'-« '"11'- thoughtless too. an,U^,e°sV'"\""^'''"^»": , >™ I w.,.s (hat with , n. ,,,0 " , "; .;*« ^''''^l Immbfy. loved her dearly." And the e^ S^;,:'"':,^' r' •™" '-' ^ ;vord«, told how dearly he' 7ooJ "' ''""" "''"' «'" Janet held her elo..e. '" "''"' remembered stiU. "And, Janet, you mnof ', • i "-1 to do. yvcn r;:tr °' "/""•^' ^'^ -^ >-ther '^'^<1 you winna let n,e do w™ . fo,.'"" ''"" ^ ^'o-' tUngs, I'ave no mother, Janet ,„ ,T^/ '"•>' "'°*''"'« «>ko. Wo A"cl all thi.s 1, in ^m' , l^^" f «-'" we do without you I'oarted again." ^" ''" ''•^■' '""' .™u ,vill grow Uf,hti And 60 it was. Tlie wm...t M.>ol. more was «aid beC thev V ;''"'"' """ "'"l.t. -'l^^od, for the first time, on e of b^'"-""'' ■'"'^' «"™'« present way of livi„„- „, f,.:" " 1 ^''"comfort:, of their everything was so ditierent ff n>^ b T' /" ,''"' '""'■'«' "'"' 'omed to, and she was slow to ., '" '""' '^«"' aecu... «y«tom was a great en, W, ^ " "7 ""^™- T'- prodnoo -^^Mo.,noth.goftr:ni::zss-rr 90 JANET .S LOVE AND SERVICE. i I I'illi i' f then, as to wliother the articles brought were intendcl aa presents, or as the payment of the " minister's tax," as the least dehcate among the people called it. "And, my dear, I just wish your father would get a settle- ment with them, and we would begui again, and put aething down in a book. For I hae my doubts as to how we are to make the two ends meet. Things mount up you ken, and we maun try and guide things." Graeme looked grave. " I wonder what my father thinks," said she. Janet shook her head. " We manna trouble yom* father if we can help it. Tho last minister they had had enough ado to live, they say, and he had fewer bah'ns. I 'ni no' feared Init we 'U be provided for. And, Miss Graeme, my dear, you '11 need to begin and keep an account again." Janet's voice had the old cheerful echo in it by this time, {ind Graeme promised, with good heart, to do all she could to keep her father's mind easy, and the household accounts straight. Weeks passed on, and even before tlic bonny spiing days had come, the giant had let Janet go, and she was her own cheerful self again. The letter that Harry brought in with a shout before IMarch was over, was a very difterent letter from the one that had caused Janet to slied such tears of disappointment on that sad November, though Sandy was the writer still. The two only intelhgible items of newa wiiich the last one had conveyed, were repeated here, and enlarged upon, with reason. A new master had come to the school, who was taking great pains with all the lads, and es- pecialh'- with Sandy, " as you will, see by this letter, mother,'^ he wrote, " I hope it will be better worth reading than thei last." If j\Irs. Smith had changed her mind, it was all for good. Janet was no more to think of her mother as hving by her- self, in the lonely cot in the glen, but farther up m another cottage, within sight of the door of Saughleas. And Sandy was to go to the school a while yet, and there was no feai? days own witli etter s of was |Ile^^'3 and ^ tlio d es- Iher," the* rood. lior- )tlier |andy 1^ Jani:t*s lovk and shuvice. 91 bat something would bo found for him to do, cither on tho farm or in the garden. And so his motlier was to set her heart at rest about them. And her heart was set at rest ; and Janet sang at her work egain, and cheered or chid tho bairns according as they needed, l)ut nevei i.iorc, thouj^di she had many cares% and ticubles not a few, ciid the giant hj'.d lier in his grasp again. f* I CHAPTER XI. ' • ny /TI^^ GIIAE:\IE," said Janet, softly opcnin;^ the stiuly IVI tloor, and looking in. Graeme was at her side in R moment. " Never mind x^lting by your book, I only want to tell yon, that I 'm going up the brae to see INIrs. Snow awhile. It 's no' cold, and I "1 take the bairns with me. So just give a look at the fire now and then, and have the kettle boihng gin tea Ihno. I winna bide late." Graeme put down her IjooIc, and hastened the pre2~)arations of the little ones. " I wisli I could go with you, Janet. How mild and bright it is to-day." " But your papa mustna be left to the keeping of fires, and the entertainment of chance visitors. You winna think loner with your book, you ken, and we '11 l3e home again before it 's dark." • *' Think long !"' echoed Graeme. " Not if I 'm left at peace with my book — I only hope no one will come." ' "My dear!" remonstrated Janet, "that's no' hospitable. I daresay if anybody comes, you ']1 enjoy their comjiany for a change. You maun try and make friends with folk, hke Menie here." Graeme laughed. " It 's easy for Menie, she 's a child. But I have to behave myself like a gi'own woman, at least, with most folk. I would far rath'^r have the afternoon to myseK." She watched them down the street, and then betook her- (jelf to her book, and her accustomed seat at the study win- flow. Life was very pleasant to Graeme, these days. Sho jani:tb lovk and skevick. 98 )iig Ifor ike Id. to (er- lin- Iho did not manifest her light-lieartedness by outward signs ; sIk^ was almost always as quiet as sorrow and many cares bad made her, since her mother's death. But it was a quiet al- ways cheerful, always ready, to change to grave talk with Janet, or meiTy play witli the little ones. Janet's returning cheerfulness banished the last shade of anxiety fi'om her mind, and she was too young to go searching into the future for a bui'den to bear. She was fast growing into companionship with her father. She knew that he loved and tnisted her entii-clv, and she strove to deserve his confidence. In aU matters concerning her brothers and sisters, he consulted her, as he miglit have consulted her mother, and as well as an elder sister could, she fulfilled a mother's duty to them. In other matters, her fatJier depended upon her judgment and discretion also. Often he was beguiled into forgetting what a child she still was, while he discussed with her, subjects more suited for cue of matui'cr yeai's. And it was pleasant to be looked upon with respect and consideration, by the new fiiends they had found here. She was a little more than a child in years, and shy and doubtful of herself withal, but it was very agi'eeable to be treated like a woman, by the kind people about her. Not that she would have confessed this. Not that slie was even conscious of the pleasure it gave her. Indeed, she was ^^•ont to declare to Janet, in private, that it was all nonsense, and she wished that people would not speak to her always, as though she were a woman of wisdom and expeiiencc. But it was agTeeable to her all the same. She had her wish that afternoon. Nobody came to dis- turb them, till the faihng light admonished her that it was time to tliink of Janet, and the teakettle. Then there came a knock at the door, and Graeme opened it to Mr. Greenleaf. If she was not glad to see him, her looks behed her. Ho did not seem to doubt a welcome from her, or her father either, OS he came in. What the chaim was, that beguiled IVIr. Greenleaf into I 94 JANET ti LOVK AND SKRVICK. pending so many lioui'H in the minister's study, the good l^eoplc of IVIerlcville foimd it difficult to say. The squire's ill-concealed indifiercnce to the opinions of people gener- ally, had told against him always. For once, Mrs. Page had been too charitable. He was not in a hopeful state, at least, in her sense of the term, and it might be doubted, whether frequent interc-om-sc with the minister, would be likely to en- courage the young man to the attainment of ]\Trs. Page's standard of excellence. But to the study he often came, and he was never an unwelcome guest. " If I am come at a wrong time, tell me so," said he, as ho shook hands with ]\Ir. EUiott, over a table covered with books and papers. " You can hardly do that," said the minister, jireparing to put the books and papers away. " I am nearly done for the night. Excuse me, for a minute only." Graeme luigercd talking to then' visitor, till her father should be quite at liberty'. " I have something for you," said Mr. Grecnleaf, in a min- ute. Graeme smiled her thanks, and held out her hand for Iht pected book, or magazine. It was a note this time. * j^Vom Celestia !" she exclaimed, coloring a httle. Graeme did not aspire to the honor of Celestia's confi- dence in aU things, but she knew, or could guess enough, about the state of affairs between her friend and Mr. Green- leaf, to be wonderfully interested in them, and she could not help feeling a little embarrassed, as she took the note from his hands. " Read it," said he. Graeme stooped down to catch the firelight. The note was veiy brief. Celestia was going away, and wished Graeme to come and see her, to-morrow. Mr. Greenleaf would fetch her. " Celestia, going aw^ay '" she exclaimed, raising herself up. " Yes," said he, " have you not heard it ?" " I heard the farm was to be sold, but I hoped they wo old still stay in Merleville." I JANET 8 LOVK AND SKliVlCE. 05 feeu- uot rom lote Lemo letcli up. "So did I," said Mr. (ireculeaf, giavely. "AVhenuillthoy go?" " Miss Jones, is to be a teacher, iii the now seminary at Rixford. Tlioy arc going to live tliere, and it cannot be very long iDcfore they go." "To her uncle?" " No, Celestia thinks her mother ^vould not be happy there. They will live by tlienisclvcs, with tli(^ cliilch'cn." "How sorry Celestia will be to go away," said Graeme, sadly. "She will not be persuaded to stay," said IVIr. Greenleaf. Graeme darted a quick, embarrassed look at him, as mu(;h aa to say, " Have you asked her ? " He answered her in words. "Yes, I have tried, and failed. She does not care to stay." There was only sadness in his voice ; at least, she detected nothing else. There was none of the bitterness which, while it made Celestia's heart ache that afternoon, had made her all the more determined to do what she believed to be riglit. " Oh ! it 's not that," said Graeme, earnestly, " I 'm sure she cares. I mean if she goes, it will be because she thinks it right, not because she wishes it." " Is it right to make herself and me unhajipy ? " "But her mother and the rest. They ai'c m trouble; it would seem like forsaking them." " It need not. They might stay with her." " I think, perhaps — I don't think — " Graeme hesitated, and then said hurriedlv, " Ai'e you rich, Mr. Greenleaf? " He lauglied. " I beheve you are one of those who do not compute riches by the number of dollars one possesses. So I think, to you 1 may safely answer, yes. I have contentment with little, and on such wealth one pays no taxes." "Yes; but — I think,— oh, I can't say what I think; but, I 'm sure Celestia is right. I am quite siu-e of that." Mr. Greenleaf did not look displeased, though Greame feared he might, at her bold speech. 06 JANKT S I-OVI; ANP SKUVIOE. " I don't believe I had better talcc you to see her to-morrow. You will enrourago her to hold out against nio." " Not af,'ainst you. She would never do that. And, bcnidcH, it would make no differen(!e. Celestia is wine and strong, and will do what she bolicveH to bo right." "WiHo and strong," rei)eatcd ]\Ir. Greonleaf, mniling, but his face grew grave in a minute again. IVIr. Elliott made a movement to join them, and Graeme thought of her neglected teakettle, and hastened away. " Never mind," she whispered, " it will all end well. Things always do when people do light." Mr. Greenlcaf might have some doubt as to the truth of this comforting declaration in all cases, but he could have none as to the interest and good wishes of his little friend, so ho only smiled in reply. Not that he had really many serious doubts as to its ending well. Ho had more than once that vei-y afternoon grieved Celestia by saying that she did not care for him; but, if he had ever had any serious trouble on tlio subject, they vanished when the first toncli of anger and dis- appointment had "svorn away, giving him time to acknow- ledge and rejoice over the " strength and wisdom " so un- liesitatingly ascribed by (Jracmo to li(ir friend. So that it was not at all in a desponding spii'it that ho turned to reply, when the minister addi'essod him. They had scarcely settled down to one of their long, quiet talks, when they were sunnnoned to tea by Graeme, and bo- fore tea was over, Janet and the bairns came home. The boys had found their way up the hill when school w^as over, and they all came homo together in Mr. Snow's sleigh. To escape from the noise and confusion which they brought w^th them, Mr. Grecnleaf and the minister went into the study agaiQ. ] during the silence that succeeded their entrance, there came into Mr. Greenleaf's mind a thought that had been often there before. It was a source of wonder to him that a man of Mr. Elliott's intellectual power and cultui'e should content himself in so quiet a place as Merleville, and to-night • I JAULl 6 LOVi: AM) SEllVICl.:. 97 he vonturotl to givo exi)rcssion to his Ihoughts, IVIi'. Elliott Binilocl. "I don't HCQ tlmt iiiylx'iii^' coiitnit to Rcttlo down lioro for life, is any nioro wonderful tliiin tluii you should htivo dono so. Inout it, and does ncjt need to use manv words to prove it. There must bo something iu it." l£e chd not answer him, however. "There is one thing which is wortli consideration," con- tinued IVIi*. Elliott, " you may be disappointed, but I cannot be so, in the nature of things." " About getting a living ? " said i\Ir. Grcenleaf, and a vague remembrance of Deacons Fish and Slo^^■como made him move uneasily in his chair. "That is not what I was thinking of, but I sujipose I may be sure of that, too. ' Your bread shall be given you, and your water sure.' And there is no such thing as disappoint- ment in that for which I really am laboring, the glorj' of God, and the good of souls." " Well," said IVIi*. Grcenleaf, gravely, " there must be some- thing in it that I don't see, or you will most assui'edly be dis- appointed. It is by no means impossible that T may have my wish, men of humbler powers than mine — 1 may say it 98 JANKTH I.OVK AND HKKVlCK. without vanity — liuvc! r'lHcn lii^hcr than to the Con^a-esH of oui* country. I ut tlin idea of your ever Boeiuf^ all tlio crooked natnrcH in Merhivillo made Htrui;_;ht! AVcll, to Kay i\ni least, I don't see how you can be very sanyuine about it." " Well, I don't say that even that is bcyoud my ambition, or beyond the power of Him whom I serve to accomplish. But thou;^h I may never see tliis, or the half of tiiis accom- plished, it does not follow that I am to be disappointed, more than it follows that your hapidness will be secured when you sit in tlu; Con<^a*esH of this j^reat nation, or rulc^ in the AVhite House even, which is not beyond your amlntion cither, I sui)posc. You know how a promise may be 'kept to the oar and broken to the heart,' as somebody says." "I know it is tlu; fashion to speak in tliat way. A\'e learn in our school books, all about the folly of ambition, and the uusatisfying nature of political ^n'catncss. 13iit even if the attainment must disappoint, there is interest and excitement in the pui'suit. And, if you will allow me to say so, it is not so in your case, and to me the disap])ointment seems even more ccrlain." Mr. Elliott smil(Ml. " I suppose the (!onversc of the poet's sad declaration may oe tnie. The prt)mise may bo broken to the eye and ear, and yet fulfilled divinely to the heart. I am not afraid." "And, (;ertainly," thought the yomig man, " he looks cahi) and lioi)eful enough." "And," added Mi-. Elliott, "as to the interest of tht pursuit, if that is to be judged by the importance of the end to be attained, I think mine may well bear comparisoii to yoiu's." " Yes, in one sense, I suppose — thoTigh I don't understand it. I can imagine an interest most intense, an engagement —a happiness altogether absorbing in such a labor of love, but — I was not looking at the matter from youi' point ol li new. »» JANKl ri LuVE AND SiliRVICi:. 00 " But from no other point of view can the subjoct bo fairly seen, ' Hiiiil ^Ir. Klh ' 'liitly. " Well, I hiivo known few, even lunonpf c*lor«jfAni('n, wlio liii\o not iiiul (heir v\vh turned juvtly frecjucntly to iinotlier Hide of tbo matter. One ou^^dit to bo jilto^^ether iibovo the neces- sity of tliiulving of eiuibly thingH, to be ublo to enjoy thnnving biniftelf wlioUy into Bueb !i work, and I fancy tbat can bo said of few." "I don't UTidorstiind you," Haid iNFr. Elliott. "Do you mean that you doubt the sincerity of thoso to whom you refer." "By no nieauH. My thouj^htH were altogether in auotlu;i direction. In faet, I was tliinking of the gri'at * bread and butter ' struggle in which ninety-nine out of every hundi-ed are for dear life engaged ; and none more earnestly, and few with less success, than nun of your profession." INIr. Elliott looked as though lu; did not yet quit** nnderstand. ^Mr. Greenleaf hesitated, slightly at a loss, but soon went on. " Const ituiod afi wo are, I don't see how a man can wholl}' devote himself to a v/ork he thinks so gi'eat, and yet have patience to struggle with the thousand petty cares r^ life. The shifts and turnings to whi'-h insuifieient meal must reduce one, eajuiot but vex and hiu't such a nature, ii it does not change it at hist. But I sec I fail to make my- self understood by you ; let me try again. I don't know how it may be in your country, but here, at least as far as my personal obsen'ation has extended, the remuneration received by ministers is insufficient, not to say paltry. I don't mean that in raany cases they and their families actually sufl'er, but there are few of them so situated as regards income, that economy need not be the very lirst consideration in all their arrangements. Comparing th'>m with other professional men they may be called poor. Such a thing as the gratifica- tion of taste is not to be thought of in their case. There is Dothing left after the bai'e necessaries are secured. It is a Btiiiggle to bring up their children, a r^vuggle to educate i Mil lip 100 JANET 8 LUVE AND SERVICE. them, a sbnigglo to live. Aiid what is worse than all, the pittance, which is rightly theu''s, comes to them often in a way which, to say the least, is suggestive of charity given and received. No, really, I cannot look on the life of a muiistcr as a very attractive ono." " I should think not, certainly, if such are your -views of it," said Mr. Elliott. " I wish I could liave the comfort of doubting their just- ness, but I cannot, unless the majority of cases that have fallen imder my observation are extreme ones. Why, there are college friends of mine who, in any other profession, might have distinguished themselves — might have become wealthy at least, who are now in some oiit of the wa}' parish, with wives and little childi'en, burdened with the cares of life. How thoy are to struggle on in the future it is sad to think of. They will cither g:ve up tho profession or die, or degenerate into veiy commonplace men before many years." " Unless they hnvu some charm against it — which may very well be," said Mr. Elliott, quietly. " I see you do not agree with me. Take yoiu'self for in- stance, or rather, let us take your predecessor. He was a good man, all say who knew him well, and vfith time and study he might have proved himseif a great man. But if ever a man's hfc was a straggle for the bare necessaries of life, his was, and the culpable neglect of the jieople in the regular papnent of his very small salary was the cause of his leaving them at last. He has since gone West, I hear, to a happier lot let us hope. The cncurastances of bis prede- cessor were no better. He died here, and his wife broke .tvvn in a vain eftbrt to maintain and educate his children. ^iie wa i brought back to MerleviUe nnd Icid beside her lius- L^ nd iCSS than a year ago. There is something >vroiig in the matter somewhere." There was a pause, and then Mr, Greenleaf continued. " It may seem an unkindly effort in mo to trj' to change your views of your futiu'e in Meileville. Still, it is better that you should be in some measure prepared, for what J '^^r's LOVE A^u SKKVICK. 101 Otherwise, you inmi,f i oou might be tlisousted witlj fear awaits you us aU," "R-ay do. And. i„-L T „ T^- ^^'""• ttau enough in inyearucsfu'ess I'n '"'''^ '""-^ ''"'"' "^'"rc COM to tnow om- people 4n\ M •? ''"■' "■''^" y" '-eally -f, «^^g. that ,vo 4li tX 1 :^'" -'«*taj I like you already " soi.i a r t n ^-. I l^ad a g,.eat tS ?J;- ^^-'^ »"%'. "Ia.s..u.e P>wtons, before ever I saw you " "" "'^ ''^^'^•™ -^ «'o Yes, but I am aii-aid ^ will -i U^e us better. We are til M, n '"" "•' '^^'^' "^^Ibre you -Y '«««' I <^are.say. a:e t tl^" "V''^ ^"■^'-- l^" ^liclves yonder. Y„„,- <.o,u,trv,?' "^''r'" "^ °" y°'" ''«"M.on>ted in „,, as a peopfc M- , W f '^•■''' ^^^^'-^^ are .„ reality less worthy of ^..ee!^ ' ''"" ' '^"'^ "'^'t «o «s to be for our- fathers' sak^n,"™ ^'°'' ^'">' ™W"«e Mt so nmch that we do nofr. "'" "'" *^°'''^"'- I* i^ "-at we have a diilerent Tnd f T ''°"^ ''' ^'-''-J. as your- edueation, habits, and pr t ' '''''"'"•=^-°"« ^at Botp.epa..eyouto ap^rcciftf J"""'""^^ ^ ^ 1>-Ple. do generally the expezieneo of vom- ' '' !■'"''"' *^=" ^^hat is l^e yo,>r's in Merlevilie. irvr""'''''?''" "^"P^'^'^^ly covenes to mate among us,^' ,'"'"" ^''^^H'ohitin. di^. and a thinlcer." ° ' ^"" ^'l"" a™ an earnest maa I think a want of «n of your count^men ^Sa^" ■'■" '""'"^ "^^ '"^Ue^l a "Earaestness.r-saidAI r, TT'"''- enoughhereinMerleville Bu ,!f2'-/;.''''"-»^««™ost '^ong us see,n earnest, only Lie '''''"" "'"^ 8°°^ ,nen paz^on to which n,y poSi, •'''"'""* °'' «''''Uu com- praiseworthy. It is ,vea 7l, ''"i"™ '"»•■< *e™ lofty and ^iiela Will result in maSeenfe ""K """ "^'^' --1" ' -^"^ -e, -.ay ^r^i^t::;?' r'^^'^-" tvcu iugh-mmded iMiiiiiii HI •;02 JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. men, but money-making in its meanest form — the scraping together of copper coi'"« for their own sakes. At least one might think so, for any good they ever seem to get of it," " You are severe," said tlie minister, quietly. " Not too severe. This seems to be the aim of all of us, V'hethef v^e are willing to acknowledge it or not. And such 11 grovellmg end will naturally make a man unscrupaloiia as to the means to attain it. There are not many men among us here — I don't know more than two or three — who would not be surprised if you told them, being out of the pulpit, that they had not a perfect right to make the very most out of their iriends — even by shaving closely in matters of busi- ness." " And yet you say their standard is a high one ? " " High or not, the religious people among us don't seem to doubt their own Christianity on account of these thmgs. And what is more, they don't seem to lose faith in each other. But how it will all seem to you is another matter." " How does it seem to you? " '• C'li, I am but a spectator. Being not one of the initiated, I am not supposed to understand the change they profess to have undergone ; and so, instead of being in doubt about particular cases, I am disposed to think httle of the wliolo matter. With you it is different." "Yes, ^\^th me it is indeed different," said the minister, gTavely — ! » gravely, that Mr. Greenleaf almost regTetted having s£)oken so fi'eely, and when he spoke again it was to change tlie subject. " It must have requhed a gi'eat wrench to break away from your -people and country and old associations," said he,, in a Uttle. Mr. Elhott started. "No, the wrench came before. It would have cost me more to stay and grow old in my own land than it did .o leave it, than it ever cau do to live and die among strangers." Fearful that he had awakened painful thoughts, Mr. Green- leaf said no more. In a httle Ivli'. Elliott went on, " It was an old thought, this wishing to find a home for JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. 103 iter, htted U to i'om in a me td .0 reen- 1 OTir chilcli-en in tliis grand new world. We had ol'vays looked forward to it somctimo. And when I was left alone, the thought of my childi'cn's future, and the longing to get away — anywhere — brought mo here." He paused, and when he spoke aguin it w^as more calmly. " Perhaps it was cowardly in me to flee. There was help for me there, if my faith had not failed. I thought it would be better for my children when I left them to leave them here. But God knows it was no desire to enrich myself that brought me to America. "We can hve on little. I trust you will be mistaken in your fears. But if these troubles do come, we must try, with God's gi'ace, and Mrs. Nasm;yth's help, to get through them as best we can. We might not better ourselves by a change, as you seem to think the evil a national one." " The love and pursuit of the ' almighty dollar,' :.s most certainly a national characteristic. As to the bearing it may liave in chm-ch matters in other places, of coui'se I have not Iho means of judging. Here I know it has been bad oaiougli ui the past." "Well, I can only say I have found the people most kind and hberal hithertr " said Mr. Elhott. " Have you had a settlement with them since you came ?" asked the squire ; the remembrance of various remarks he had heard of late coming unpleasantly to liis mind. " No, I have not yet. But as the haK-3'ear is nearly over, I suppose it will come soon. Still I have no fears — I think I need have none. It is not theirs but tJioii T «oek. " Do you remember the Sabbath I first came among you ? 1 saw you there among the rest. If my heart rose up hi thankfulness to God that day, it was with no thought of gold or geai*. God is my witncKs that I saw not these peojDlG as possessors of houses and lands, but of precious souls — living souls to be encoiu'aged — slumbering rouIs to be a'^oused- - dead souls to be made alive in Christ, through His own Word, Bpoken by me and blessed l)y Him. "No, I do not think I can possibly be disappointed in thi.i 7 1 i 104 JANET i-, LOVE AND SERVICE. tiatter. I may have to bear trial, and it niLy come to me as it oftcncst comes to God's people, iii the very way that seems hardest to boar, Ijut God tcill blci bath-day, looking just as usual." " Well, yes, I expect so," said j\Ir. Fish. " Brother Slerno looks always pretty much so. p[c aint apt to s-Jiow his fod- in's, if he 's got any. He '11 have something to Bufibr with liis son "Wilham, I guess, whether, he shows it or not." Janet Jjlcpd both father and son, though it was weU known 106 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. ill the to"\v]i ihat tlicro was trouble between them ; so his-'f^ad of iiuilvin.%' any answer, slio hastened to usher thtnn into tliQ study. The luhiister awaited them, and business began. First was display(Ml the list of subscriptions for (lie coming half- }(.'ar. This was quite encoura;^ing. TJnce hundred and fifty and odd dollars. Thv.i looked Avell. Tl'ore had never been so much subs('ril)ed in rderlevillo l^efore. The deacons were elated, and evidently expected that the minister should be so, too. He would be well off now, said they. But the minister was always a quiet man, and said little, and the last half- yeiu^'s settlement was turned to. There were several sheets of it. The minister in danger of getting bewildered among the items, tiUTied to the sum total. " Two hundi-ed and seventy-two dollars, sixty-two and a-half cents." He was r little mystified still, and looked so. " If there is anything wrong, anything that you object to, it nuist be jjut right," said Deacon Slowcome. Deacon Fish presumed, " that when Mr. Elliott should have compared it with the account which he had no doubt kept, it would be found t(,i l)c all right." Mr. I'^llio't had to confess that no such accoimt had been kept. Ife supposed it was all it should Ije. He reaUy could say notliing vdth regard to it. He left the management of liousehold ariaii's entirely to his daughter and ]Mrs. Nasm}i;h. It was suggested that Mrs. Nasmytli should be called in, and the deacon cleared his voice to road it to her. " If there 's anything you don't seem to understand or ro member," prefaced the accommodating Deacon Slowcome, 'don't feel troubled about sajdng so. I expect we'll make •lungs pretty straight after a wliile." Mrs. Nasmytli looked at the minister, but the minister ilid not look at her, and the reading began. After the name of each person, came the days' work, honie hii'e, loads of fire- wood, bushels of corn, pounds of butter and cheese, sugar and dried apples, which he or she had contributed. Deacon Fish's subscription wa^i chiefly paid by his horse and his cow. The former had carried the minister on two or three of hig i ' tlio ^irst lalf- lifty been wero ic so, lister half- anger 3 sum o and cl so. ect to, d liavo :ei)t, it been conld lent of slllj^ll. 1, and or ro- rcome, make iinister name I of fire- sugar )eacon lis cow. of his JANET'S LOVE AND SEUVICK. 107 most distant visits, and the latter had supplied a quart o» two of milk daily durin;^ a great part of the winter. It ^va,J overpaid indeed by just seveJiteen and a-half cents, which, however, the deacon seemed inclined to make light of. "There ain't no matter about it. It can go right on to the next half year. It ain't no matter about it anyhow," said he, in liberal mood He had an attentive hwtener. ]Mi's. Nasmvth listened with vain efroi*ts not to let her face betray her utter bewilderment at the whole procecLling, only assenting- briefly when Mr. Slowcome interrupted the reading, now and then, to say interrogatively, CD 1/ ^ *' You remember ? " It dawned upon her at last that these v^ero the items that made up the subscription for the half year that was over ; but except that her face changed a httlo, she gave no sign. It is possible the deacon had had some slight misgiving- as to liow IVIi's. Nasmyth might receive the statement ; certainly hi>j voice took a relieved tone as he drew near the cml, and at last read the sum total : " Two hundred and seventy-t\'>o dollars sixty-two and a-half cents." Again Janet's eye sought the minister's, and this time he did not avoid her look. The rather pained siu-i)rise had all gone out of his face. Intense anuisement at Janet's chang- ing face, on which bewilderment, mcrednlitv and indigna- tion were successively written, banished, for a moment, ever other feeling. But that passed, and by the look tiiat followed Janet knew that she must keep back the words that were rising to her lips. It required an eflbrt, however, and a rather awkward silence followed. Deacon Slowcome spoke fii'st: "Well, I suppose, we may consider that it stands all right. And I, for one, feel encom-agcd to expect great thuigs." " I doubt, sirs," said Janet in a voice ominously mild and civil, "there are some thhigs that haena been j.nt down on yon paper. There was a cum apples, and a bit o' unco spare rib and " 108 janict's love aud service. " Woll, it 's possible there arc some folks aiu't Bent in tlioii* uccounts yet. That can be seen to another time." Janet paid no attention to the interrni)tion. " There were some eggs from Mrs. Sterne — a dozen and three, I think — and a goose at the New Year from sonieb(jdy else ; and yoiu" wife sent a pumpkin-pie ; and there was the poiTidge and milk that Judge Merle brought over when first we caino here " " Ah ! the pie was a present from my wife," said Deacoi} Fish, on whom Mrs. Nasmyth's aw^ful irony was quite lost. " And I presume Judge Merle did n't mean to charge for the pcnidgo, or hominy, o-r whatever it was," said Deacon Slowcome. " And what for no' ? " demanded Janet, turning on him sharply. " I 'm sure we got far more good and pleasure ii'om it than ever we got o' your bloody fore-quai'ter of beef, that near scunnered the bairns ere we were done with it. Things should stand on your papers at tlieu* tme value." Deacon Slowcome was not, in reality, more sui-prised at this outbreak than he had been when his " fore-quaiier of bloody beef " had been accepted unchallenged, but he professed to be so ; and in his elaborate astonishment allowed Janet's remarks about a slight mistake she had made, and about the impropriety of " looking a gift horse in the mouth " to pass unanswered. " You wore at liberty to return the beef if you did n't want it," said ho, with an injui'ed air. " Weel, I '11 mmd that next time," said she, in a milder tone, by no means sui'e how the minister might api^rove of her plain speaking. Deacon Fish made a diversion in favor of peace, by holding up the new subscrix^tion-hst, and asking her triumi3hantly if that " did n't look well. " "Ay, on paper," said Janet, di'yly. " Figui'es are no' dol- hirs. And if your folk have been thinking that the minister and his family liae been living only on the bits o' things writ- ten down on your paper you are mistaken. The gude money that has helped it has been worth far more than the like o' M JANKT ri LOVE AND SERVICE. 100 in aud \VL13 rhen etcou at. 3 for aeon him asure beof, itli it. ;ed at ,er of 'essed anet's .t the pass want liiilder re of favor Isking dol- ister vrritr loney Uie o' it y M that, as I ken wool, who liiio had the Rjicnding o' it ; but 1 daroflay you 're no' iiecdmg mo longer, Kir," she added, ad- dressing the minister, and she left the room. This matter was not alluded to again for several days, but it did Janet a deal of good to think about it. She had n(| time to indulge in homesick musings, with so definite a sul> ject of indignant speculation as the meanness of the deacons. She " was nettled at herself beyond all patience " that she should have allowed herself to fancy that so many of the things on the paper had been tokens of the j^Kiople's good- wUl. "Two hundred and seventy dollars and more," she re- peated. " Things mount up, I ken weel ; but I maun take another look at it. And I '11 liae more sense anither time, I 'm thinking." She did not speak to Graeme. There would be no use to vex her ; but she would fain have had a few words ^^'ith the minister, but his manner did not encoiu'age her to introduce the subject. A cucumstance soon occuiTcd which gave her an opening, and the subject, fi'oni first to last, was thoroughly discussed. March was nearly over. The nights were cold still, but the sun was powerful during the day, and there were many tokens that the earth was about to wake from her long sleep and prepare for the refreshment of her childi-en. "And time for her," sighed Janet, taking a retrospective view of all that had hapj^ened since she saw her face. The boys had been thi'own into a state of gi'cat excito meut by a proposal made to them by their fi-iend jMi*. Snow. He had offered to give them sixty of the best trees m his sugar place, with all the articles necessary to the making of sugar, on terms that, to them, seemed easy enough. They were to make then- owai preparations, gather the sap, cut their own wood, in short, carry on the business entu'ely themselves ; and, nothing daunted, they went the veiy fii-st fine day to see the ground and make a beginning. Graeme and the other girls went with them as far as IVIr. Snow's ii 110 janlt's love a^'D service. )!ousc, and Jiiiict wan left iilono. Tlio miiiistor was in his study as iisuiil, and wlion tlu^y wore all {^ono, nncionifortablo with tho uiiaceustonuHl quietness of tlio houHo, she arose and wont to tho door and looked ratlicr sadly down tlio street. Sho had not long to indulge her feelings of loneliness, how- ever. A sleigh came slowly grating along the half-ljarc street, and its occupant, IMr. Silas Spears, not one of her favorites, stoj)])ed before the door, and lost no time in "hitching" liis horse to the post. Janet set him a chair, and waited for tho [icfnistonied ([ucstion whether tho minister was at home, and whether he could sec him. " Tho body has some sense and discretion," said Janet to herself, as he announced instead that ho " wa'ant a going to stay but a minute, and it would n't be worth while troubling the mmister." Ho did stay, however, teUing news and giving liis oinnion on matt(.'rs and things in general in a wa^' which was t(^lerablo to Janet in her solitude. Ho rose to go at last. " I 've got a bucket of sugar out here," said he. " Om* folks did n't seem to want it, and I thought I 'd fetch it jdong down. I took it to Cook's store, but they did n't want it, and they did n't care enough about it at Sheldon's to want to pay for it, so I thought I might as well turn it in to pay my minis- ter's tax." So in he came within a minute. " There 's just exactly twenty-nine i^onnds with the bucket. Sugar 's been sellin' for twelve and a-half this winter, and I guess I ought to have that for it, then wo '11 bo about even, according to my calculation." " Sugar ! " ejaculated Janet, touching tho solid black masa with her finger. " Call you that sugjir ? " " Why, yes, I call it sugar. Not the best, maybe, but it 's better than it looks. It '11 be considerable whiter by the time you drain it off, I expect." " And weigh considerable Hghter, I expect," said Mrs. Nas- myth, unconsciously imitating Mr. S^oears' tone and manner in hsv rising wTath. " I m very much obliged to you, but jANtrr's LOVi-: and skuviok. Ill le 1 wo 'ro in no rfipocial ncod o' Biigar at tlii.s time, and wo HI do witliont a wliilo bcforo wo Hpond f^ood siller on stiifV liko tlifit." "Well, I'll Kiiy olovcn rontsj, or may])e ton, as Hnpi'arin* time is most hero. It aint first rate/' ho added, candidly. **It mightn't jnst do for tea, Imt it's as good as any to s\vcet(!n pios and oakos." "Many thanks to von. l)nt \V(; 're no' j^avon to tli(> niakin' o' pics and cakes in this house. Plain bread, or a sup por- ridge and milk does for us, and it 's mair than wo 're like to get, if things dinna mend with us. So you '11 just take it with you again." "Well," said Mr. Spears, shghtly at a loss, ''Igness I'll leave it. I ain't paiiicular about the price. Mr. Elliott can iJlow me what ho thinks it woiih, come to use it. I'll leave it anvhow." " But you'll no' leave it, with my consent. Deacon Slow- come said the minister wasna needing to take anvthuig ho didna want, and the like o' that wo could make no use of." "The deacon might have said that in a general kind of way, Imt I rather guess he did n't mean you to take him up so. I 'vo been calculating to pay my minister's tax with that sugar, and I don't know as I've got anything else handy. I '11 leave it, and if you don't conclude to keep it, you bettor sj-yeak to the deacon a1)out it and maybe ho '11 give you the money for it. I '11 leave it anyhow." "But you'U no leave it here," exclaimed Mrs. Nasmvth, whose patience was not proof against his jiersistence, and seizing tho bucket, she rushed out at the door, and deposit- ing it in the sleigh, was in again before the astonished Mr. Spears quite realized her intention. " You '11 no' find me failing in my duty to tho minister, as I hae done before," exclaimed she, a little breathless with tho exertion. "If the minister canna hae his stipend paid in good siller as he has been used wi', he shall at least hae nao trash like yon. So dinna bring here again what ither folk winna hae from you, for I '11 hae none o' it." 112 jankt's j.o\ ic and 6i:uvice. I !i' "I hIiouM liko to BOO tlio jniniMtcr a miimto," Haul jSrr. Spears, jjcaiiii^' liiiii.sclf with dij^'iiily. **I don't coiiHulcr that you aro tho ouo to Hcttlu this l)U.uiic';jn." "There's many a thhijjf that you (llinia consider that thore 'h kcuso in, notwitli.standing. It 's just ma that is to docido this buHin(;sH, and a' buHincHH whcro tlio minister's welfare, as rcj^ou'ds meat and di'iuk, is concemed. So diima fash yourself and me mair about it." " I 'd liko to see him, anyhow," said ho, taking a step to- wards tho study door. " But you '11 no* see him about any such matter," and Janet placed herself before him. "I 'm no' to hae the minis- ter vexed with tho Uko o' that nonsense to-night, or any night I wonder you dinna think shame, to hold up yoiu* face to me, forby the minister. What kens tho minister about tho liko o' that? Ho has other thmgs to think about. It 's wcel that there 's aye mo to stand between him and tho hke o' you ' glegs and corbies ' . " And Janet, as hor manner was, when excited, degenerated into Scotch to such a degree, that her ojiponcnt forgot his indignation in astonish- ment, and hstcnod in silence. Janet was successful. INIi'. Spears was utterly nonplussed, and took liis way homeward, by no means sure that he had n't been abused. " Consider- able beat, anyhow." Scarcely had ho taken his departure, when Mr. Elliott made his appearance, having had some idea that something unusual had been going on. Though loth to do so, Janet thought best to give a faithful account of what had taken p^ace. Ho laughed heartily at her success and Mr. Spears' fV.scomfitui'o, but it was easy to sec he was not quite at his ease about the matter. "I am at a loss to know how all this will end," he said, gi'avely, after a minute. " Indeed, sir, you need be at no loss about that. It will end in a ' toom pantry ' for us, and that before very long.** This was the begimiing of a conversation with regard to their afifaii-s, that lasted till the cliildi'en came home. ]\Iuch JANKT 8 LOVE AND SKRVIOB. 118 img met eariioftt thouf^'ht did the miniHtor boRtow on Uio Ruhjoct for tlic next tliico dajH, and on tlio ovcniii;,' of tlic fouiili, iit the close of ti full cDiifiTciico moi'tin;,', wlicn most of the in(.'inl)cra of the church were present, the result of his meditations WM [jiven to the public. He did not use many words, hut they were to Uu} point. Ho toM them of the settlement for the past, and the pros- pect for the future. He told them that the value to his 'umily of the artichis hrou^^ht in, was note([ual to their value, ',9 named in the subscription lists, tlu'ir real value ho su^v )osod. They could not hvo in comfort on theho terms, and ;hoy should never try it. Ho had a proposal to make to them. The deacon had csthuated that an anmial amount equal to seven Inmdred dollars could be raised. Let each subsciibcr deduct a seventh part of what he had promised to pay, and let the remainder be paid in money to the treasin*er, 80 that ho might receive his .«alary in quarterly payments. This would be the means of avoidinji much that was annoy- ing to all parties, and was the only terms on which ho would thmk it wise to remain in IMerhivillo. Ho alluded to a report that had lately reached him, as to his having money invested in Scotland. In the hand of ft fiiend ho had deposited sufficient to defray the expenses of his eldest son, until his education shoiild bo completed. Ho had no more. Tho comfort of his family must depend upon his salary ; and what that was to be, and how it was to bo paid, must be decided without loss of time. He said just two or three words about his wish to stay. about the love ho felt for many of them, and of his earnest desire to benefit them all. Ho had no other desire than to cast in his lot with theu's, and to live and die among them. But no real union or confidence could be maintained between them, while the matter of support was hable at any momoni. to become a soui'ce of discomfort and misunderstanding to all concerned. He added, that as so many were present, perhaps no better time than to-night could be found for ari'anging the matter, and so he left them. ii 114 Janet's love and slkvice. There was quite a gatlicriiij^ that night. Jud^je Merle \^ ad there, and the deacons, and the Pages, and Mr. Sj)ears, and a gTcat many besides. Behind the door, in a comer seat, sa l^Ir. Snow, and near him, Mr. Grecnleaf. He evidently felt he was rot expected to remain, and made a movem'jnt to go, but Sam2:)son laid his hand un his arm. "Hold on, Squiie," lie whispered ; "as like as not they'd Bpare us, but I 'm bound to see this tlu'ough." There was a long pause. Then Deacon Fish got up and cleared his throat, and " felt as though he felt," and went over much ground, without accompli'-'-iiig much. Deacon Slowcome did pretty much the same.. Judge Merle came a little nearer the mark, aid when he sat down, there was a movement behind the dooi', and Sampson Snow rose and stepped Oi't. He laid his hand on the door latch, and then turned round and opened his lips. " I expect you 11 all think it ain't my place to speak in meetin', and I ahi't goin' to say a great deal. It 's no more than two hours or so since I got home from Rixford, and Squire Stone, he told me that their minister had given notice that he was goin' to quit. Gom' to Boston, i guess. And the Squire, says he to me, ' We 've a notion of talking a little to your Mr. Elliott,' and says he, 'We wouldn't begrudge iiun a thousand dollars cash down, and no mistake.' So now don't worry any about the minister. Hi''s aU right, and worth his pay any day. That 's all I 've got to say," and Mr. Snow opened the door and walked out. Sampson's speech was sliort, but it was the speech of the evening, and told. That night, or within a few days, arrange- oicnts were made for the carr;)dng out of the plan suggested by IMr. ICUiott, with this difierencc, that the seventh part wae not to be deducted because of monej' payment. And tho good people of Mcrleville did not regret their promptitude, when the vei-y next week there came a deputation from Eix- ford, to ascertain whether Mr. Elliott was to remain in Merle- vi)le, and if not, whether he would accept an invitation to fc;ettle in the larger town. I JANETS LOVE AND BERVICE. 115 Mr. Elliott's answer wuh brief and decided. He had no wish to leave IMerlcville v/hilo the people wished him to i'(y^ main. Ho hoped never to leave them while he lived. Atd he never did. i CHAPTER XIII. SPRING camo and wont. The lads dirstinguished them selves 1 'oth for the quantity and quality of their sugar, and highly enjoyed the work besides. The free out-of-door Vie, the camping m the woods ])esidc a blazing tire, and the company of the village lads who daily and nightly crowded around ihem, charmed them fi'om all other pursuits. 'Mr. l^oster and his mathematics were sadly neglected in these days. In futiu'c they w^erc to devote themselves to agricul- ture. In vain Janet hinted that "new things aye pleased light heads," and warned them that they were deciding too soon. In vain Mr. Snow said that it was not sugaring time all the year; and that they should summer and winter among the hills before they committed themselves to a farmer's life, ifan'y quoted Cincinnatus, aiul Norman proved to his own satisfaction, if not to Mr. Snow's, that on sci;:ntilic ininciples cveiy farm in JNIerloville could bo cultivated v» ith half the ex- pense, and double tlie profits. Even their father w\as carried away by their enthusiasm; and it v, to be feared, that if he had had a fortune to invest, it would have l^ecn buried for ever among these beautiful hills of Merlevillo. An opportunity to test the streng-th of the lads' determma- t:on, cam'^ in a manner which mvolved less risk than a piu'chavc would have done. Early in May a letter was received fi'om IVIi'. Kosa, in "^vhich he offered to take the charge of Arthur's educatiou on himself, and as he was well able to do so, i\Ir. Elliott saw no reason for refusing the oiler. The money, therefore, that he had se^- apart for his son's use, retiu'ned to JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. 117 his hp.nds, and ho did a wiser thing than to invest it either in mountain or ve^^3y. It oame, about this time, to the worst, with Mrs. Jones and her daughter Celestia. The mortgage on the farm couUl not bo paid, even the interest had fallen far behind, and Squire Skinflint had foreclosed. Nothinir remained for the widow, but to save what she could from the wreck of a property that had once been large, and go away to seek a new home for her- self and her children. On the homestead she was about to leave, the heart and eyes of ]\Ir. Snow had long been fixed. As a relation of the widow, he had done what could be done, both by advice and assistance, to avert the evil day; but the widow was no farmer, and her boys were children, and the longer she kept the place, the more she must involve herself; and now, that the land must pass from her hands, Sampson would fain have it pass into his. But the only condition of sale was for ready money, and this without great sacritice he could not obtain. Meanwhile, others were considering!: the matter of the purchase, and the time was snort; for there had been some failure in Squire Skinflint's Western land s]Mjcula- tion, and money nmst be had. If the widow could have held it still, Mr. Snow would never have desired to have the land ; but what with the many thoughts he had given to it, and the fear of ecettino; bad neifjjhbors, he had about come to the conclusion that it was not worth while to farm at all, unless he could have the two farms put into one. Just at this juncture, the minister surprised him greatly by asking his advice about the investment of the money which his brother-in-law's generosity had placed at his dis- posal. A very few words settled tlie matter. The minister lent the money to Mr. Snow, and for the annual interest of the same, he was to have the use of the farm-house and the ten acres of meadowand pasture land, that lay between it and the pond. The arrangement was hi all respects advantageous to both parties, and before May was out, the little brown huuse behind the elms, was left in silence, to await the coming of the next chance tenants: and the pleaaurable ex- 118 Janet's love and service. citement of settling clo\vn in tlieir new home, filled the minda of Janet and the bairns. And a veiy pleasant home it promised to be. Even in that beautiful land of mountain and valley they would have sought in vain for a loveher spot. Sheltered by high hills from the bleak winds of the north and east, it was stiU sufficiently elevated to permit a wide view of the farms and forests aromid it. Close below, mtli only a short, steep bank, and a wide strip of meadow land between, lay Merle pond, the very love- liest of the many lovely lakelets, hidden away among these mountains. 0"ver on the rising ground boyond the pond stood the meetinghouse, and scattered to the right and left of it were the white houses of the village, half hidden by the tall elms and maples that fringed the village street. Close by the farmhouse, between it and the thick pine grove on the hill, ran Carson's brook, a stream wliich chd not disappear in summer- time, as a good many of these hill streams are apt to do, and which, for several mcmtlis in the year, was ahnost as worthy of the name of river as the Merle itself. Before the house was ri large giassy yard, having many rose bushes and lilac trees scattered along the fences and the path that led to the door. There were shade trees, too. Once they had stood in regular hncs nlong the road, and round the large garden. Some of these had been injured because of the m- sufficient fences of late years; but those that remained were trees worth} of the name of trees. There were elms whoso branches nearly touched each other, fi'om opposite sidee of the wide yard; and gi'cat maples that gTCw as symmetrically in the oi)en space, as though each spring they had been clip- ped and cared for by experienced hands. There had been locusts, once; but the old trees had mostly died, and there were only a few young ones springing up here and there, Ixit they were trees before the chiidi'cn went away fi'om the place which they were now beginning to look upon as home. Formerly, there had been a large and handsome garden laid out at the end of the house, but since trouble had come on the family, its cultivation had been considered too much Janet's love and service. 11!» 111- len liie ch expense, and the grass was growing gi'een on its squares and borders now. There were a few porenuials easy to cnltivale ; and annuaLs such as sow themselves, marigolds and pansies. There was Ixilm in abundance, and two or tlu'ee gigantic peonies, in their season the admii-ation of all passers by; and beds of useful herbs, womiwood and sage, and summer savory. But, though it looked like a wilderness of weeds the the first day they came to see it, Janet's quick eye fcn-esaw a great deal of jileasure and profit wliich might ])(; got for the bainis out of the garden, and, as usual, Janet saw clearly. There was a chance to find fault with the liousc, if anyone had at this time been incUned to find fault with anytJiin'>-. It was large and i)leasant, but it was sadly out of repau-. Much of it had been little used of late, and looked di-eary enough in its dismantled state. But all this was changed after a whOe, and they settled down v(}ry Inippily in it, with- out thinkmg about any defect it might have, and these dis- appeared in time. For, by and by, all necessary rcpaii's were made by their provident landlord's own hands. He had no mind to pay out money for what he could do himself ; and many a wet afternoon did he and his hired man devote to the replacing of shingles, tlie nailing on of clapboards, to puttying, paint- ing, and other matters of the same kind. A good Itindlord be was, and a kind neighbor, too ; and when the many ad- vantafi^es of then' new home were bein;if told over bv the children, the living so near to ]Mi'. Snow and little Emily was never left till the last. A very pleasant summer thus began to them all. It would be ditficult to say which of them all enjoyed then* new life the most. But Janet's prophecy came true. Tlic neicnc^'s of farmnig proved to be its chief charm to the lads ; and if it had been left entirely to them to plant and sow, and care for, and gather in the harvest, it is to be feared there would not have been much to show for the summer's work. But their father, who M^as by no means inexperienced in agricultural matters, had tlie success of tlieii' farming ex})ei iment much 120 JANET 8 LOVE ASB 8KRVICE. nl heart, and with his arlvico and the frequent expostulationfl and assistance of Mr. Snow, affau's were conducted on their httlc farm on the whole prosperously. Not that the lads grew tired of exerting themselves. There was not a lazy bono in their bodies, Mr. Snow de- clared, and no one had a better opportunity of knowing than ho. But thci]' sircngth and energy were not exerted always in a dii'Gction that would j^ciij, according to Mr. Snow's idea of remuneration. ]\Iuch time and labor were expended on the buikhng of a bridge over Carson's brook, between the house and Pme Grovo HiU, and much more to the making of a waterfall above it. Even Mr. Snow, who was a long time in coming to comprehend why thoy should take so much h'ouble with what was no good but to look at, was can-ied away b}^ the spirit of the affair at last, and lent his oxen, and used his crowbar in their cause, conveying gi-eat stones to the spot. "When the bridge and the waterfall were com- pleted, a path was to be made round the hill, to the pine gTove at the top. Then, amt)ng the pines, there was a wonderful stnicture of rocks and stones, covered with mosses and creeping plants. The Grotto, the children called it, Mr. Snow called it the Cave. A wonderful place it was, and much did they enjoy it. To be sure, it would not hold them all at once, but the gTove would, and the grotto looked best on the outside, and much pleasure did they get out of their labors. The lads did not deserve all the credit of these great works. The gills helped, not only with approving eyes and lips, but with expert hands as well. Even Graeme gi*ew rosy and simbui'nt by being out of doors so much on bright mornings and evenings, and if it had been always summer time, there might have been some danger that even Graeme would not ver}^ soon have come back to the quiet indoor enjoyment of work and study again. As for Janet, her homesickness must have been left in the little brown house behind the elms, for it never troubled her ftfter she came up the brae. "With the undisputed posseasion \ JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. 121 of poullrj', pi^s and cows, caiiio back her energy and peace of mind. The first uattkct of c*^<^h collected by the children,, the first churning (^f golden butter which she was uM:: ta di.si)lay to their admuing gaze, were worth their weight in gold as helps to her returning cheerfuhiess. Not that she valued her dunib friends for their usefulness alone, or ev?n for the comforts they brought to the household. She had a natural love for all dependent creatures, and petted and pro- vided for her favorites, till thev learned to know and lovo her in retiu'ii. All helpless creatiu'es seemed to come to her natiu'ally. A dog, which had been cruelly beaten by his master, took refuge with her ; and being fed and caressed by her hand, could never be induced to leave her guardiansliip again. The veiy bees, at swarming time, did not sting Janet, though they lighted in clouds on her snowy cap and neckerchief ; and the little brown sjiarrows came to share with the chickens the crumbs she scattered at the door. And so, hens and chickens, and Uttle brown sparrows did much to win her from a regi'eiful rememl:)rancc of the past, and to reconcile her to what was strange — " unco like " in her new home. Her cows were, perhaps, her prime favorites. Not that she would acknowledge them at all equal to " Fleckie " or " Blackie," now, i^robably, the favorites of another mistress on the other side of the sea. But "Brindlo and Spottie were wise-like beasts, with mair sense and discretion than some folic that she could name," and many a child in Merleville got less care, than she bestowed on them. Morning and night, and, to the surprise of all the farmers' wives in Merle- ville, at noon too, when the days were long she milked them with her own liandS; and made more and better butter fi'oni the two, than even old INIrs. Snow, who prided herself on her abilities m these matters, made from, any three on her pasture. And w^hen in the fall ]\Ir. Snow went to Boston with the produce of liis mother's dairy, and his own farm, a large tub of Janet's butter went too, for which was to be brought back " tea worth the drinking, and at a reasonable 122 Janet's love and skuvick. k price," and other things besides, which at MerleviUo and at Morleville prices, coold not bo easily obtained. The Indian smnnicr had come again. Its mysterious haze and hush were on all things luider the open sk}'^, and within tlie house aU was cpiiet, too. The minister was in tlie study, and the bairns were in the pine gi'ove, or by the water side, or even farther away ; for no sound of son{;f or laughter came from tlieso familiar places. Janet sat at the open door, feeUng a little dreary, as she was rather apt to do, when left for hours together alone by the bairns. Besides, there was sometliing in the mild air and in the quiet of the afternoon, that " 'minded" her of the time a year ago, whan the bainis, havuig all gone to the kirk on that lirst Siibl)ath-day, she had " near grat herself blin," from utter dei^pairing homesickness. She could now, in her restored peace and lirmnoss, afford to to feel a little contemptuous of her former self, yet a sonso of sadness crept over her, at the memory of the time, a slight pang of the old malady stirred at her heart. Even now, she was not quite sm-e that it would be prudent to indulge hcrscLT in thoughts of the old times, lest the wintry days, so fast hastening, might bring l)ack the old gloom. So she was not sorry when the sound of footsteps broke the stillness, and she was pleased, for quite other reasons, when IVIi'. Snow appeared at the open door. He did not accept her invita- tion to enter, but seated Imnsclf on the doorstep. " Youi' folks are all gone, are they ? " asked he. " The minister is in his study, and Miss Graeme and the bairns are out by, some way or other. Your Emily's with them." " Yes, I reckoned so. I 've just got home from Rixford. It would n't amount to much, all I could do to-night, so I thought I'd come along up a sjiell." , Janet repeated her kindly welcome. • | " The minister's busy I presume," said he. " Yes, — as it 's Saturday, — but he winna be busy very long now. If you '11 bide a moment, he '11 be out I daresay." " There 's no hiu'ry. It's nothing particular." tmt JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. 123 the hvith But 3Ir. b'uow w;iR not in his usual spirits cvitlently, anl watching hiiii sttniUhily, Juuot saw a cannvoru anxious oxprc.r sion fastenhig on his usually chcorfiil face. ** ;Vi'o you no' wccl the night '?" she asked. "Sartain. I never was sick in my life." "And how are they all down-by '?" meaniug at IMi'. Snow's house, by " down-by." " Well, pretty much so. Only just middling. Notlnn;j to brag of, in the way of smartness.' There was a long silence after that. Mr. Snow sat vdih folded anns, looking out on the rjcenc before them. " It 's kind o' })leasant here, ain't it V" said he, at last. " Ay," said Janet, softly, not caring to disturb his mu;;- ings. He sat still, looking over his own Ijroad fields, not thinking of them as his, however, not calculating the expense of the new saw-mill, with whi(^h he had been threatening to disfigiu'e Carson's brook, just at the point where its waters fell into the pond. He was looking far away to the distant hills, where the dim haze was deepcniing into purple, hiding the mountain tops beyond. But it could not be hills, nor haze, nor hidden mountain tops, that had brought that wist- fal longing look mto his eyes, Janet thought, and between doubt as to what she ought to say, and doubt as to whether she should say anj-thing at all, she was for a long time silent. At last, a thoaght struck her. " What for wasna you at the Lord's table, on the Sabbath day?" asked she. Sampson gave her a queer look, and a short, amused laugh. *' Well, I guess our folks would ha' opened their eyes, if I had undertook to go there." Janet looked at him, m some surprise. " And what for no ? I ken there are others o' the folk, that let strifes and divisions hinder them from doing their duty, and sitting down together. Though wherefore, the hke of these things should hinder them fi-om remembering their Lord, is more than I can understand. What hac you been doing, or what has somebody been doing to you ?" 124 Janet's i.ove and beuvioe. Thoro was a pause, and then Sampson looked up and said, gravely. " Mis' Nasmyth, I ain't a professor. I 'ni one of the world's people Deacon Fish tells about," Janet looked grave. " Come now, Mis' Nasmytli, you don't moan to say you thought I was one of the good ones ?" "You ought to bo," said she, gravely. "Well, — yes, I sui:)poHe I ought to. But after all, I guess there ain't a gi*eat siglit of dilTerence between folks, — l''ast^ ways, between MerleviUe folks. I know all about tJum. I was the fii*st white eliild born in the to^vn, I was raised here, and in some way or other, I 'm related to most folks in town, and I ought to know them all pretty well ]>y this time. Ex- cept on Sundays, I expect they re all pretty nmeh so. It would n't do to teU round, but there are some of the world's people, that I 'd full as lief do business with, as with most of the professors. Now that 's a fact." '' You 're no' far wTong there, I daresay," said Janet, with emphasis. " But that 's neither here nor there, as far as your duty is concerned, as yor weel ken." " No, — I don't know as it is. But it kind o' make3 mo feel,. as though there wasn't much in religion, anyway." Janet looked mystiliud. Mr. Snow continued. " Well now, see here, I '11 tell you just how it is. There ain't one of them that don't tliink I 'm a smner of the worst kind — gosjDel hardened. They 've about given me uj), I know they have. Well now, let alone the talk, I don't be- . Heve there 's a mite of difference, between me, and the most of them, and the Lord knows I 'm bad enough. And so you see, I 've about come to the conclusion, that if there is such a thing as religion, I have n't never come across the real ar- ticle." "That's hke enough," said Janet, with a gToan. "I can- na say that I have seen muckle o' it myself in this town, out of oui' own house. But I canna see that that need be any excuse to you. You have aye the vrord." JANETS LOVE AND SEIiVlCK. 125 " Well, yos. I *vo always had the Bible, and I *vo read it considerable, but I never seem to get the lianj^' of it, some- how. And it ain't l)ccanse I ain't tried, either. There was one spell that I was dreadful down, and says I to myself, if there 's eonifort to be got out of that old boolc, I 'ni bound to have it. So I began at the beginning about the creali )n, and Adam and Eve, but I didn't seem to get much comfort tliere. There was some good reading, l)ut along over a piece, there was a deal that I could see nothing to. JSome of the Psalms seemed to kind o' touch the spot, and the Proverbs are first-rate. I tell ijou he knew something of human nature, that wrote (Jti'm." "There's one tlihig you miglit have learned, before you got far over in Genesis," said Mrs. Nasmyth, gravely, " that you are a eondomncd simier. You should have settled that matter witii yourijelf, before you began to look for eoni- fort." "Yes, I knew that before, but I could n't seem to make it go. Then I thought, maybe I did n't understand it right, so I talked with folks and went to meeting, and did the best I could, thinking surely what other fi^lks had got, and I had n't, would come sometime. But it did n't. The talking and the going to meeting, did n't help me. " Now there 's Deacon Sterne, he 'd put it right to me. He'd say, says he, 'Sampson, you're a sinner, you know you be. Yon 've got to give up, and bow that stiif neck o' your 'n to the yoke.' Well, I 'd say, * I 'd be glad to, if I only knew how to.' Then he 'd say, ' But you can't do it yourself, no how. You 're clay in the hands of the potter, and you '11 have to perish, if the Lord don't take riglit hold to save you.' Then says I, 'I wish to mercy Ho would.' Then he 'd talk and talk, but it all came to about that. ' I must, and I could n't,' and it did n't help me a mite. " That was a spell ago, after Captain Jennings, follcs, T7ent West. I wanted to go awfully, but father he was getting old, and mother she wouldn't heai' a word of it. I waa awful discontented, and then, after a spell, worse came, and < f I a% 120 ^ JANIOt'h LoVIi AM) blOUN ICK, 1 <<'11 yoity I M Im frivcu most iinytbii^ to havo got roHgion, just to hnvo liii'l Hom(!(hijiL( to liold on to." ^Fr. S;ii.".v jkiusc.I. 'J'iicro was no (louhliji^ his carnoHt- ncHsnow. Janet did not speak, and in a littlo whilo ho went on af,'aui. "I 'd ^'ivo eonsideiMhlo, just to bo Huro thoro *h anything in getting' i(>li;^i<)n. Sonictnncs I Hceni to hoc that there is, and tlicu a^iiin I think, wliy don't it help folks more. Now, thoro 's Deacon Sterno, ho 's ono of the lj(>st of them. Ho Wonld n't swcrvo a hair, from what ho Ijeliovcd to bo right, not to save a liml). Ho is ono of tho real old Puritan sort, not a uiito lik(5 Fisli and Slowcomo. ]5ut ho ain't ono of tho meek and lowly, I can tell von. And ho 's made some awful mistakes in his lif(!-time. Ho 's been awful hard and Btrict in his family. His llrst children got along protly well. Most of them wero girls, and their mother Avas a smart woman, find stood between them and their father's har be, and I worried for a spell. And Mis' Nas- niyth, if there had been any such thing as getting rehgion, I should have got it then, for I tried hard, and I wanted some- thing to help me bad enough. There did n't seem to be any- thing else worth carmg about any way. " Wei], 1 nat was a spell ago. Emily was n't but three years old when I brought them home. We 've lived along, takuig some comfort, as much as folks in general, I reckon. I had got kind of used to it, and had given up expecting much, and took right hold to make propeiiy, and have a good time, and here is yoiu* minister has come and stirred me up and made me as discontented with mj-self and everything else as weU." " You should thank the Lord for that," interrupted Janet, devoutly. " Well, I don't know about tliat. Sometimes when he has been speaking, I seem to see that there is something better than just to hve along and make proj)erty. But then again, I don't see but it 's just what folks do who have got rehgion. Most of the professors that I know — " "Man!" exclaimed Janet, hotly, "I hae no patience with you and j'oiu* professors. What need yc i aye to cast them up ? Canna you read your Bible ? It 's that, and the bless- ing thf, t was never j'et \7ithheld from any one that asked it with hurxihty, that vdW init you in the way to find abiding peace, and an abiding j)ortion at the last." "Just so, Mis' Nasmyth," said Mr. Snow, deprecatingly, and there was a little of the old twmkle m his eye. " But it does seem as though one might naturally expect a httle help ,-r^' JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. 129 JO I got hel had ad poor er riglit mothor. had n't vith Ra- Mother ixi^ectod lis Kas- hgion, I 3d somc- ) be any- ree years g, taking L. I had inch, aud ime, and ,nd made as well." id Janet, In he has ig better ;n again, rehgion, ice with lat them Hie bless- auked it abiding 3atingly, "But it ttle help from them that are spoken of as the lights of the world ; now don't it r " There ''8 no denying that, but if you must look about you, you needna surely fix your eyes on such crooked sticks as your Fishes and yoiu* Slowcomes. It 's no breach o' chai'ity to say that tJiey dinna adorn the doctiinc. But there ai'o other folk that I could name, that are both light and salt ou the earth." "Well, yes," admitted Sampson; "since I've seen youi' folks, I 've aboi^t got cured of one tiling. I see now there is something in religion mth some folks. Your mmister be- heves as he says, and has a good time, too. He 's a good man." ""You may say that, and you would say it with more em- phasis if you had seen liim as I hove scon him for the last two twclvc-moiitlis wadhig thi'ough deep waters." " Yes, I expect he 's just about what he ought to be. But then, if religion only changes folks in one case, and fails in ten—" "Man ! it never fails !" exclamied Janet, with kindling eye. •' It never failed yet, and never will fail while the heavens en- dure. And lad ! take heed to yoiu'self. That 's Satan's net spread out to catch your luiwary soul. It may servo your turn now to jeer at professors, as you call them, and at their misdeeds that are unhappily no' few ; but there 's a time coming when it will fail jou. It will do +o tell the like of me, but it winna do to tell the Lord in ' that day.' "jLou have a stumbling block in your o^ii proud heart that hinders you more than all the Fishes and Slowcomes o' them, and you may be angry or no' as you like at me for telling you." Sampson opened his eyes. " But you don't seem to see the thing just as it is exactly. I ain't jeering at professors or their misdeeds, I 'm grieving for myself. If religion ain't changed them, how can I expect that it will change me ; and I need changing bad enough, as you say-'' "If it nasna changed them, they have none of it," said Mrs. I < P 130 JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. ■ fli ill Nasmyth, eamcstly. " A Christian, and no' a changed man I Is ho no' a sleeping man awakened, a dead man made alive — born ngain to a new life? Has he not the Spirit of God abiding in him ? And no' changed ! No' that I wish to judge any man," added she, more gently. "We dinna ken other folk's temptations, or how small a spark of grace in the heai-t will save a man. We have all reason to be thank- ful that it 's the Lord and no' man that is to l^e our judge. Maybe I have been over hard on those men." Here was a wonder! Mrs. Nasmyth confessing herself to have been hard upon the deacons. Sampson did not speak his thoughts, however. He was more moved by his friend's earnestness than he cared to show. " Well, I expect there 's something in it, whether I ever see it with my own eyes or not," said he, as he rose to go. " Ay, is there," said Mrs. Nasmyth, heartily ; " and there 's no fear but you '11 see it, when you aslc in a right sj^irit that your eyes may be opened." " ]\Iis' Nasmyth," said Sampson, quietly and solemnly, " I may be deceiving myself in this matter. I seem to get kind o' bewildered at times over these things. But I do think I am in earnest. Surely I '11 get help some time ?" "Ay — that you will, as Clod is true. But oh man ! go straight to Him. It 's between you and Him, this matter. But wmna you bide still ? I daresay the minister wiU soon be at leisure now." " I guess not. I had n't much particular to say to him. I can just as well come again." And without turning his faco toward her, he went away. Janet looked after hun till the turn of the road hid him, saying to herself, " li the Lord would but take him in hand, just to show what He could make of him. Something to His praise, I hae no doubt — Yankee though he be. God forgive me for saying it. I daresay I hae nae aU the charity I might hae for them, the upsettin' bodies." P:S;i«';ft5t-:fc/ t,^ais,i,\ ,- ^xr^j- „K^af^^ CHAPTER XIV. EVEN in quiet country places, t}icre are changes many and varied wrouglit by the coming and going of seven years, and Merlevillo has had its share of tlieso since the time the minister's children looked upon the pleasant place with the wondering eyes of strangers. Standing on the church-steps, one looks down on the same still hamlet, and over the same hills and valleys and nestling farm-houses. But the woods have receded in some places, and up from the right comes the somid of clashing machinery, telluig that the Merle river is pcrfoiining its mission at last, setting in motion saws and hammers and spmdlos, but in so unpretend- ing a manner that no miniature city has sprung up on its banks as yet ; and long may that day bo distant. The trees in the gi-ave-yard cast a deeper shadow, and the white grave-stonc^j seem to stand a little closer than of old. The tall, rank grass litis many iimos been trodden by the lingcruig feet of the funeral- trai]i, and fi'csh sods laid do\vn above many a heart at rest forever. Voices beloved, and Vvnces httle heeded, have grown silent diUTtig these seven years. Some have died and have been foi'gotten ; some have left a blank behind them which twice seven years shall have no power to fill. The peoi')le have changed somewhat, some for the better, Bome for the worse. Judge Merle has gi'own older. His hair could not be whiter than it was seven years ago, but he is bent now, and never forgets his staff as ho takes his daily walk down the village street ; but on his kindly face rests a look of peace, deeper and more abiding than there used to b«. His kind and gentle wife is kmd and gentle stilL She, 1 ri JANE"?'S LOVE AND SERVICE. J, grows old, vvitli a bingliteninp^ face, as though each pass- ing day were bringing her ncaicr to her liopc'.s fulfillment. If Deacon Sterne is growing older ; ins ontward man givofl no token thereof. His hair has been iron-grey, at least sinco anybody in Merlcville can remember, and it is iron-gi'ey still. He looks as if seven times seven years could have no power to make his tall form less erect, or to soften the lines on liia dark, gi-ave face. And yet I am not sure. They say his face is changing, and that sometimes in the old meeting-house on Sabbath afternoons there has come a look over it as though a bright Hght fell on it from above. It comes at other times, too. His patient wife, pretendhig to look another way as he bends over the cradle of his ^^-illful William's httle son, yet turns stealthily to watch for the coming of the tender smile she has so seldom seen on her husband's face since the row of little graves was made in the church-yard long ago. By the deacon's fireside sits a pule, gentle woman, "Will.'s bride that was, Will.'s sorrowing widow now. But though the gi*ave has closed over him, whom his stern father loved better than all the world beside, there was hope in his death, and the mourner is not uncomforted ; and for the deacon there are happier days in store than time has brought him yet. Deacon Slowcome has gone West, but, " yearning for the pri\Tleges he left behind," or not successful m his gains- getting, is about to return. Deacon Fish has gone West and has prospered. Content m hm heart to put the wonderful wheat crops in place of school and meeting, he yet deplores aloud, and iii doleful terms enough, the want of tlK3se, and never ends a letter to a Merleville crony without an earnest adjuration to " come over and help us." But, on the whole, it is beheved that, in his heart. Deacon Fish will not repine while the grain gi'ows and the markets prosper. IVIr. Page is gi'owing rich, they say, which is a change in- deed. His nephew, Timothy, having invented a wonderful mowing or reaping-machine, Mr. Page has taken out a patent for the same, and is growing rich. Mrs. Page enjoys it well, and goes often to Rixford, where she has her gowns and Janet's love and sekvice. 133 bonnets made now ; and patronizes young Mrs. Merle and yoimg Mrs. Greenleaf, and does her duty generally very much to her own satisfaction, never hearing the whispered doubts of her old fi'iends — which are audible enough, too — whether she is as consistent as she ought to be, and whether, on tho whole, her new prosperity is promoting her gi'owth in grace. Becky Pcttimore has got a hc^mc of her own, and feels as if she knows how to enjoy it. And so she does, if to enjoy it means to pick her own geese, and spin her own wool, and set her face hke a flint against the admission of a speck of dii't withm iier o\m four walls. Bat it is whispered among some people, wise in these matters, that there is something going to happen in Becky's homo, which may, sometime Oi other, mar its perfect iicatnoss, without, however, marring Becky's enjoyment of it. It may be so, for hidden away iu the comer of one of her many presses, is a little pillow of down, upon which no mortal head has ever rested, and which no eyes but Becky's own have ever scon ; and they till with wonder and tenderness whcu cr they fall upon it ; and so there is a chance that she may yet have more of home's enjoyments than geese or wool or dustless rooms can give. Behind the elms, where the old brown house stood, stands now a snow-white cottage, with a vine-covered porch before it. It is neat without and neat within, though often there are children's toys and little shoes upon the floor. At this moment there is on the floor a row of chairs over turned, to make, not horses and carriages as they used to do in my young day^^, but a train of cars, and on one of them sits iVi'thur ElHott Greenleaf, representing at once engine, whistle, conductor and fi-eight. And no bad representative cither, fis far as noise is concerned, and a wonderful baby that must be who sleeps in the cradle through it all. Beside the win- *d service. ^ curiously that day were become familiar now, and some of tliem veiy dear. Yes ; Merleville was home to Graeme. Not that she had forgotten the old home beyond the sea. But the thought of it came with no j^ainful longing. Even the memory of her mother brought now regret, indeed, and sor- row, but none of the loneliness and misery of the first days of loss, for the last few years had been very happy years to tbrm all. And yet, as Graeme stood gazing over to the hills and the village, a troubled, vexed look came over her face, and, with a gesture of impatience, she turned away from it all and walked up and down among the withered leaves outside the gate with an impatient tread. Something troubled her with an angi-y trouble that she could liot forget ; and though she laughed a httle, too, as she muttered to herself, it was not a pleasant laugh, and the vexed look soon came back again, in- deed, it never went away. "It is quite absurd," she nmrmured, as she came within the gate, and then turned and leaned oA'er it. " I won't be- heve it; and yet — oh, dear! what shall we ever do if it happens ? " " It 's kind o' pleasant here, ain't it ? " said a voice behind her. Graeme started more violcnfly than there was any occasion for. It was only Mr. Snow who had been in the study with her father for the last hour, and who was now on his way home. Graeme scarcely answered him, but stood watching him, with the troubled look deepening on lier face, as he went slowly down the road. "Mr. Snow had changed a good deal within these few years. He had gTown a gi'cat deal greyer and gi'aver, and Graeme thought, with a Mttlc pang of remorse, as she saw him dis- appear round the tiu'n of the road, that she had, by her cold- ness, made him all the grav(>r. And yet she only half re- gretied it ; and the vexed look came back to her face again, as she gathered i\\^ her work that had fallen to the groimd %nd tm-ned toward the house. There was no one in the usual sitting-room, no one in the JWi^ Janet's love and service. 143 bright kitchen beyond, and, going to the foot of the stairs, Graeme raises her voice, which has an echo of impatience in it still, and calls " I^Irs. Nasmvth." For Janet is oftener called Mrs. Nasmyth than the old name, even by tho bauTis now, except at such times as some wonderful piece of coaxing is to bo done, and then she is Janet, the bairn's ow.i Janet still. There was no coaxing echo in Grieme's voice, however, but she tried lo chase the vexed shadow from her face as her fiieud came slowly do^vn the stairs. "Are you not going to sit do\m?" asked Graeme, as sho seated herself on a low stool by the window. "I wonder where the bauns are ? " " The bainis arc gone down the brae," said Mrs. Nasmyth ; " and I 'm just going to sit down to my seam a wee while." But she seemed in no hun-y to sit down, and Graeme sat silent for a little, as she moved quietly about the room. " Janet," said sho, at last, " what brings Deacon Snow so often up here of late ? " Janet's back was toward Graeme, and, without tiuning round, she answered : " I dinna ken that he 's oftener here than he used to bo. He never staid long away. He was ben the lioub') with the minister. I didna see hmi." There was another pause. " Janet," said Graeme again, " what do you think Mrs. Greenleaf told me all Merleville is saying ?" Janet expressed no cuiiosity. " They say Deacon Snow wants to take you do^vn the brae." Still IVIi'e, Nasmyth made no answer. " He hasna ventured to liint such a thing ?" exclaimed Graeme interi'ogatively. " No' to me," said Janet, quietly, " but the mmister." " The minister ! He 's no' l^late ! To think of him holding up his face to my father and proposing the hke of that ! And what did my father say ?" .». ■JS if' U4: JANKT S LOVE AKD SERVICE. 1 1 I i li I \ ^ '• \ " I dinna ken what lie said to him ; but to me he said he was well 2^1eascd that it should be so, and " " Janet !" Graeme's voice ex2:)ressed consternation as well as indignation. Mrs. Nasmyth took no notice, but seated herself to her stocking-darning. " Janet ! If you think of such a thing for a moment, I declare I '11 take second thoughts and go away myself." " Weel, I aye thought you might have done as weel to con- eider a wee 'afore you gave Mr. Foster his answer," said Janet, not heeding Graeme's impatient answer. "Janet! A stickei minister !" " My dear, he 's no' a sticket minister. He passed his ex- aminations with great credit to liimself. You hae your father's word for that, who was there to hear him. And he *s a grand scholar — that 's weel kent ; and though he majiia hae the gift o' tongues like some folk, he may do a gTeat deal of good in the world notwithstanding. And they say he has gotten the charge of a fine sjhool now, and is weel oflf. I aye thought you might do worse than go with him. He 's a good lad, and you would have had a comfortable home with him." " Thank you. But wluii I marry it won't be t* get a com- fortable home. I 'm content with the home I have." " Ay, if you could be sure of kcejiing it," said Janet, with a sigh ; " but a good man and a good home does not come as an offer ilka day." " The deacon ncedna bo feared to leave his case in your hands, it seems," said Graeme, laughing, but not pleasantly. ** Miss Graeme, my dear," said Mrs. Nasmyth, gravely, " there 's many a thing to be said of that matter ; but it must be said in a diliercnt sjmit fi-om what you are manifest- ing just now. If I 'm worth the keeping hero, I 'm worth tlie seeking elsewhere, and Deacon Snow has as good a right as another." " Right, indeed ! Nobody lias any I'ight to you but our- selves. You are oiu''s, and we '11 never, never let you go." " It *3 no' far down the brae," said Janet, gently. JANET'a LOVE AND SERVICE. 115 com- Tvith come your mtly. ively, ut it ifcst- orth riglit our- to. " Janet ! You '11 never think of going ! Surely, siu-ely, you '11 never leave iis now. And for a stranger, too ! "When > ou gave up your own mother and Sandy, and the land you loved so well, to come here with us ! — " Graeme could not go on for the tears that would not bo kept ]3ack. " Miss Graeme, my dear baini, you were ncetling me then. Nae, hae patience, and let me speak. You are not needing me now in the same way. I sometimes think it would be fur better for you if I wasna here." Graeme dissented cai'nestly by look and gestui'c, but she had no words. "It's true though, my dear. You can hardly say that you are at the head of youi* father's house, while I manage uU things, as I do." But Graeme had no deshe to have it otherwise. " You can manage far best," said she. " That 's no to be denied," said INIrs. Nasmyth, gravely ; "but it ought not to be so. Miss Graeme, you arc no' to think that I am taking upon myself to reprove you. But do you think that yonr present life is the best to fit you for the duties and responsibilities th;it, sooner or later, come to the most of folk in the world ? It 's a pleasant life, I ken, with your books and your music, and your line seam, and the teaching o' the bairns ; but it canna last ; and, my dear, is it making you ready for what may follow ? It wouldna be BO easy for you if I were away, but it might be far better for you in the end." There was notlmig Graeme could answer to this, so she leaned her head npon her hand, and looked out on the brown leaves lying beneath the elms. '* And if I should go," contmued Janet, "and there 's many an if between me and going — but if I should go, I '11 be near at hand in time of need " " I know I am verj- useless," broke in Graeme. " I don'i rare for these things as I ought — I have left you with too liiiiny cai'es, and I don't wonder that you want to go away." " AMiist, lassie. I never yet had too much to do for yoiu' \l MO JANET S LOVE AND SEKVICB. I ! !l if .. (■ i mother's bairns ; and if you Lave done little it 's because you havena needed. And if I could oyc stand between you and the burdens of life, you necdna fear trouble. But I canna. Miss Graeme, my dear, you were a hving child in jour mother's arnj^s before she Avas far past }our age, and your brother was before you. Think of the cares she had, and how she met them." Graeme's head fell lower, as she repeated her tearful con- fession of uselessness, and for a time there was silence. "And, dear," said Janet, in a little, "your father tells me that Mr. Snow has offered to send for my mother and Sandy. And oh ! my l)ami, my heart leaps m my bosom at the thought of seeing their faces again." She had no power to add more. "But, Janet, yoiu: mother thought herseK too old to cross the sea when we came, and that is seven years ago." " INIy dear, she kenned she couldna come, and it was as well to put that face on it. But she would gladly come now, if I had a home to give her." There was silence for a while, and then Graeme saici, " It 's selfish in me, I know, but, oh ! Janet, we have been so happy lately, and I canna bear to think of changes com- ing. Mrs. Nasniyth made no answer, for the soimd of the bairns' voices came in at the open dooi", and in a minute Maidan entered. "Whore have you been, dear? I loar you have wearied yourself," said Janet, tenderly. " We have only been down at Mr. Snow's barn watchuig the threshing. But, mdeed, I have w^earied myself." And sitting down on the floor at Janet's feet, she laid her head upon her lap. A kind, hard hand was laid on the bright hair of " the bomiiest of a' the bairns." " You mustna sit down here, my dear. Lie down on the sofa and rest yourself till the tea be ready. Have you taken your bottle to-day ? " Marian made her face the very picture of disgust. JANET^S LOVE AND SERVICE. 117 lecause 3n yon But I hild iu go, and le had, ful con- !e. ler tells her and ' bosom had no . old to ago. t was as lly conio del, ave been igcs com- ic bairns* Marian wearied Kvatchuig " And lier head bright on the lou taken *' Oh ! Janet, I 'm better now. I dinna need it. Give it. to Graeme. She looks as if she needed something to do herl good. "What ails you, Graeme ? " i " My dear," remonstrated Janet, " rise up when I bid you, and go to the sofa, and I 'U go up the stair for the bottle." Marian laid herself weaiily down. In a moment Mrs. Nasmyth reappeared with a bottle and spoon in one hand, and a pillow in the other, and when the bitter draught was fairly swallowed, Marian was laid down and covered and caressed with a tenderness that struck Graeme as strange ; for though Janet loved them. aU well, she was not m the habit of showing her tenderness by caresses. In a little, Marian slept. Janet did not resume her work immediately, but sat gazmg at her with eyes as full of wistful tenderness as ever a mother's could have been. At length, with a sigh, she turned to her basket again. " Miss Graeme," said she, in a httle, " I dinna like to hear you speak that way about changes, as though they did not come fi'om God, and as though He hadna a right to send them to His people when He pleases." " I canna help it, Janet. No change that can come to us can be for the better." " That 's true, but we must even expect changes that are for the worse ; for just as siu:e as we settle down in this world content, changes will come. You mind what the Word says, • As an eagle stirrcth up her nest.' And you may be sure, if we are among the Lord's childi-en. He '11 no leave us to make a portion of the rest and peace that the world gives. He is kinder to us than we would be to oiu-selvcs." A restless movement of the sleeper by her side, aiTCsted Janet's words, and the old look of wistful tenderness came back into her eyes as she turned toward her. Graeme rose, and leaning over the arm of the sofa, kissed her softly. " How lovely she is ! " whispered she. A crimson flush was rising on Marian's cheeks as she slept. "Ay, she was aye bonny," said Janet, in the same low voice " and she looks like an angel now." I ?'' i-^ % li' ! r i i 148 JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. Graeme stood gazing at her Bister, and in a little Janet spoke again. " Miss Graeme, you oanna mind your aimt I>Iiivian ? " No, Graeme could not. "Menie is gi'owing very like her, I think. She was bonnier tlian your mother even, and oho kept her beauty to the very last. You ken the family wcrena wcU pleased when your mother married, and the sisters didna meet often till Miss Marian grew ill. They would fain have had her av/ay to Italy, or some far awa' place, but nothing Avould content her but just her sister, her sister, and so she came home to the manse. That was just after I came back again, after Sandy was weaned ; and kind she was to me, the bonny, gentle creature that she was. " For a time she seemed better, and looked so bloommg — except whiles, and aye so bonny, that not one of them all could believe that she was going to die. "But one day she came in from the garden, with a bonny moss-rose in her hand — the fu-st of the season — and she said to your mother she was wearied, and lay down ; and in a vree while, when yoiu: mother spoke to her again, she had just strength to say that she was going, and that she wasna feared, and that was all. She never spoke again." Janet paused to wipe the tears from her face. " Sne was good and bonny, and our Menio, the dear lam* mie, has been grov.ing very hke her this while. She 'minds mo on her now, with the long lashes lying over her cheelis. Miss Marian's cheeks aye reddened that way when she slej^t. Her hair wasna so dark as our Menie's, but it curled of itself, like hers." Mrs. Nasmyth turned grave pitying eyes toward Graeme, as she ceased speakmg. Graeme's heart gave a sudden pam ful throb, and she went very pale. "Janet," said she, with difficult}'^, " there is not much ^^^o matter with my sister, is there ? It vv'asna that you meant about changes ! Menie 's not gouig to die Uke our bonny I ; t Janet's love and sekvice. 149 Fanot was ity to Avhen on till - av;ay Diitcnt imc to I, after bonny, ning — icm all lay slio in licr mother when c^th to a that lar lam- 'minds Iclieelis. slept, ^f itself, [raeme, In pain lich ^^^'^ meant bo3my Aunt Marian!" Her tones gi-ew shrill and incredulous as she went on. " I cannot tell. I dinna ken — sometimes I 'm feared to think how it may end. But oh I Miss Graeme — my darling — " "But it is quite impossible — it can't be, Janet," broke in Graeme. "God knows, dear." Janet said no more. The look on Graeme's face showed that words would not help her to com- prehend the trouble that seemed to bo di-awing near. She must be left to herself a while, and Janet watched her as she went out over the fallen leaves, and over the bridge to the pine grove beyond, with a longing pity that fain would havo borne her trouble for her. But she Ov,uld not bear it for her — she could not even help her to bear it. She could only pray that whatever the end of their doubt for Marian might be, the elder sister might be made the better and the wiser for the fear that had come to her to-day. There are some sorrows which the heart refuses to realize or acknowledge, even in knowing them to bo drawing near. Possible danger or death to one beloved is one of these ; and as Graeme sat in the shadow of the pines shuddering with the pain and terror which Janet's words had stii-red, she was saving it was impossible — it could not be true — it could never, never be true, that her sister was going to die. She tried to realize the possibility, but she could not. When she tiied to pray that the terrible di*ead might be averted, and that they might all be taught to be submissive in God's hands, whatever His will might be, the words would not come to her. It was, " No, no ! no, no ! it cannot be," that went up through the stillness of the i)ines ; the cry of a heart not so imicli rebellious as incredulous of the possibility of pain so terrible. The darkness fell before she rose to go home again, and when she came into the firchght to the soimd of hajipy voice?, Mcnie's the most mirthful of them all, her terrors seemed utterly um*easonable, she felt like one waking from a painful dream. i 150 Janet's love and skrviue. " What could have maclo Janet frighten herself and me so ?" she said, as she spread out her cold hands to the blaze, all the time watching her sister's bright face. " Graeme, tea 's over. Where have you been all this time ?" asked Rose. " My father was asking where you were. He wants to see you," said Will. " I '11 go ben now," said Graeme, rising. The study lamp was on the table unlighted. The minister was sitting in the firelight alone. H»} did not move when tho door opened, until Graeme spoke. " I 'm here, papa. Did you want me ?" " Graeme, come in and sit down. I have something to say to you." kJhe sat down, but the ministe did not seem in haste to speak. He was looking troubled and anxious, Graeme thought ; and it suddenly came into her niLud as she sat watching him, that her father was mowing an old man. In- deed, the last seven years had not ^..cssed so lightly over him as over the others. The hair which had been grey on his temples before he reached his prime, was silvery white now, and he looked bowed and weary as he sat there gazing into the fire. It came into Graeme's mind as she sat there in the quiet room, that there might be other and sadder changes before them, than even tho change that Janet's words had implied. "My dear," said the minister, at last, "has Mrs. Nasmytb been speaking to you ?" " About — " Menie, she would have asked, but her tonguo refused to utter tho word. " About Mr. Snow," said her father, mth a smile, and some hesitation. Graeme staiied. She had quite forgotten. Mrs. Greenleaf told me something — and — " I believe it is a case of true love with him, if such a thing can come to a man after he is fifty — as indeed why should it not ?" said the minister. " He seems bent on taking Janet from us, Graeme." ((' (( !lh !i! Janet's love and service. 151 mo ize, er see ister 1 tbo ig to ste to raeme he sat I. In- er him on bis |e now, Lg into in the |hangos Is had ismyth I tongue Id some a thing Ihould it lg Janet '* l^ipa ! it is too absurd," said Oraenie, all her old vexation coming back. Mr. Elliott smiled. " I must confess it was in that light I saw it fb'st, and I bad web nigh been so mircasonablc us to be vexed with our goo^l friend. But we muRt take care, lest we allow our own wisbesi to mterferc with what may be for IMi's. Nasmytb's advan- tage." *'Biit, papa, sbo has been content with us all these years. Why slionld there be a change now ?" " If the change is to be for her good, we must try to per- suade her to it, however. But, judging fi'om what she said to me this afternoon, I fear it will be a difficult matter." " But, papa, why should we seek to persuade her again.st her own judgment." " My dear, we don't need to persuade her against her judg- ment, but against her affection f(3r us. She only fears that we will miss her sadly, and she is not quite sure whether she ought to go and lea" "* is." "But she has been quite happy with us." *' Tes, love — happy in doing what she beUeved to be her duty — as happy as she could be so far separated from those whom she must love better than she loves us even. I have been thinking of her to-night, Graeme. What a self-denying life Janet's has been ! She must be considered first in this matter." " Yes, if it would make her happier — but it seems strange — that—" " Graeme, IMi*. Snow is to send for her mother and her son. I could see how her heart leapt U]o at the thought ot ^eeing them, and having them witli her again. It will be a great happiness for her to provide a home for her mother in her old age. And she ought to have that happiness after such a life as hers." Graeme sighed, and was silent. " If -vve had golden guineas to bestow on her, where we have copper coins only, we could never repay her love and cai'e for us all ; and it vviU be a matter of thankfulness to 10 . fi 'Mf> i»»imammiMmm*.. 152 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICF. I ii III 'I I me to Imow that slio is secui'c in a homo of her own for the rest of her life." " But, popa, wLilo ^e have a home, Hho will never bo with- out one." " I laioAv, r1(;ar, while wo have a home. You need not tell mo that ; but Graeme, there is only my frail life between you and homclcssncrjs. No^ that I fear for you. You are all young and ntrong, and the God whom I have sought to serve, will never leave my children. But Janet is gi'owing old, Graeme, and I do think this way has been providentially opened to her." "If it wero quite ?ight to marry for a homo, papa — ." Graeme hesitated and colored. Her father smiled. "IVIrs. Nasmyth is not so young as you, my dear. She will sec things dilTercntly. And besides, she always liked and respected IMi*. Snow. I have no doubt she will be very happy with him." "We all liked Inm," said Graeme, sighing. "But oh! I dread changes. I can't bear to l^reak u.p our old ways." " Graeme," said her father, gravch', " changes must come, and few changes can be for tlie bettor, as far as we are con- cerned. We have been very happy of late — so happy that I fear we were in danger of sitting dovm. contented with the things of this life, and we need reminding. We may think ourselves happy if no sadder change than this comes to us." Tlie thought of IMenie came back to Graeme, with a pang, but she did not speak. "I know, dear,'' said her father, kindly, "this will come liardest upon you. It wiQ add greatly to yoiu' cares to have IMi's. Nasmyth lea\e us, but you are not a child now, and — " " Oh, papa ! it is not that — I mean it is not that altogether, but — ." Graeme x^aused. She was ixot sure of her voice, and she could not bear to pTieve her father. In a Uttle, she asked. "When is it to be?" " I don't know, indeed, but soon, I suppose ; and my dear child, I trust to you ^o make smooth much that might othe^ danet's love and service. 153 >» le xe je, le wiKO be not agrcoablo in this matter to us all. llic cliaiififo you dread so much, will not be very groat. Our kind friend is not going very far away, and there will he j^leasant things connected with the change. I have no doubt it will bo for the best." "Shall I light your lamp, paj^a," said Graeme, in r. little while. ** No, love, not yet. I have no mmd for my book to-night." Graeme stu'red the fire, and moved about the room a little. MTien she opened the door, the sound of the children's voices camo in meiiily, and she shnuik from going o^it into the light. So she sat down in her accustomed place by tho win- dow, and thought, and listened to the sighs, that told her that her father was busy with anxious thoughts, too. " Only my frail life between my children and homeiessness," he had said. It seemed to Graeme, as she sat there in the darkness, tliat since the morning, everything in tho \V(jrld h.-ul changed. They had l^scn so at rest, and so happy, and now it seemed to her, that they could never settle down to tho old quiet lifo again. "As an eagle stiiTetli up her nest," she mmmnred to her- self. " Well, I ought no' to fear tho changes I To brings But, oh I I am afraid." iar le^ I ill I CHAPTER XV!. THE rest of the bjiini.s received the tidings of the chango thiit was goiiifj to take phico among them, in a very diU'cn lit way from Graeme. 'J'heir astonishment at the idea of Janet's maniage was great, but it did not equal their de- light. Graeme was in the minority decidedly, and had to keep quiet. But then Janet was in the minority, \oo, and Mr. Snow's suit was anything but prosj^orous for some time. Indeed, he scarcely ventiu'ed to show his face at tlio mhiis- ter's bouse, Mrs. Nasmyth was so evidently out of sorts, anx- ious and unhappy. Her unhapi)inesy was manifested by silence chiefly, but the silent way she had t)f ignoiing Sanq)- son and his chiims, discoui'aging all approach to the subject, that lay so near the good deacon's heart, was worse to bear than open rebufif would have been ; and while Mrs. Nasmyth's silence grieved Mr. Snow, the elaborate patience of his man- ner, his evident taking for gi'anted that " she would get over it," that " it would aU come right in the end/ were more than she could sometimes jiatiently endui'e. " He 's hke the lave o' them," said she to Graeme one day, after having closed the door, on his departiu'c, ^^ith more haste than was at all necessary. " Give a mm an inch, and he '11 take an ell. Because I diihia just set my face agamst the whole matter, ^^ hen the minister first spoke about it, he 's neither to hold nor bind, bui * when will it be ? ' and ' when will it be? ' till I have no i)eace of my life with liim." Graeme could not help laughing at her excitement. " But, when will it be ? " asked she. " My dear, I 'm no siu'O that it will ever be." *' Janet ! " exclaimed Graeme. " ^liat has happened ? '' jANirrfl Love and skrvick. 155 '*N«)tliiii^' Ims liappcnctl ; Imt I *m no' miro but I ouj^'lit to lmv(! i)iit a stop to till) nmttcr at the very firHt. I (Umia wool ken what to do." "Janet," said rtmonie, Rpoaking with some cmbaiTassinent, "my father tliinks it rif^ht, and it docs not seem so so stranfji'c as it did at hrst — and you should speak to Ml*. Snow about it, at any rate." "To put him out o' i):iin," Haid Janet, sniihn;^ ^n-imly. " There 's no h^iv o' him. But I '11 speak to him this very nijjjht." And so mIio did, and that so kuidly, tliat the deaeon, taking heart, pleadc^d his own cause, with strong hop(;s of success. But Janet would not sutler her.sdf to bo entr«Mit(.'d. With tcai-ful eyes, she told him of her fears for ^larian, and said, "It would seem lil^e forsaking the bauiis in their trouble, to leave them now." ]Mr. Snow's kind heart was much shocked at the thought of ]Manan's danger. She had been his favor- ite among the bairns, and Emily's chief fi'iend from the very first, and lie could not urge her going away, now that there was so soiTowfnl a reason for her stav. " So you '11 just tell the minister there is to be no moro said about it. Ho winna ask any (juestions, I dare say.'* But in this Janet was mistaken. Ho did ask a gi'cat many questions, and failing to obtain satisfactory answers, took the matter into his own hands, and named an early day for the marriage. In vain Janet protested and held back. He said she had been thinking of others all her life, till she had for- gotten how to think of herself, and needed some one to think and decide for her. As to ]\rarian's illness being an excuse, it Avas quite the reverse. If she was afraid IMarian would not be well cared for at home, she might take her do\\ii the brae ; indeed, he feared there was some danger that he would be forsaken of all his children when she went away. And then he tried to thank her for her care of his motherless bairns, and broke down into a silence more eloquent than words. "And, my dear friend," said he, after a little, "I shall feel, when I am to be taken away, I shall not leave my chil* cU'en desolate, while they have you to care for them," \V Uki aWMM 15G Janet's love and SKiivicE. So for IMi's. Naomytli ilierc was no help. But on one tiling sho was determined. The day might be fixed, but it must be sufficiently distant to perniit the coming home of the lads, if tliey could come. They mi^ht come or not, as it pleased them, but invited they nmst bo. She would fain see them all at home again, and that for a better reason than sho gave the minister. To Mr. Sno^v, -who doubted whether "them boys " would care to come so far at such expense, she gave it with a sadder face than he had ever seen her wear. "If they are not all together soon, they may never be to gether on earth again ; and it is far better that they should come liomc, and have a few blithe days to rmid on after- ward, than thai' then first home-comiug should be to a homo with the shadow of death upon it. They nmst be asked, any -way." And so they "vere written to, and in duo time there came a letter, saying that both Harry and Arthur would ])o home for a week at the time appointed. From Norman there came no letter, but one night, whQo they were wondcruig why, Nor- man came himself. His first gi*eetmg to Janet was in words of grave expostulation, that she should think of forsaking her " bairns " niter all these years ; but when ho saw how gi'ave her face became, ho toolc it all back, and declared that he had been expecting it all along, and only wondered that matters had not been brought to a crisis much sooner. He rejoiced Mr. Snow's heai-t., ih-st by his hearty congratulations, and then by his a^^fiU threats of vcngeanco if 3 Irs. Snow was not henccfoi*th the happiest woman in Merlovitle. ( Nonnan was greatly changed l:y his two years' absencOj more than either of liis brothers, the sisters thought. Arthur was just the same as ever, thoug)i ho was an advocate and a man of buidness; ami Harry was a boy with a smooth chin and red cheeks, still. But, with Norm-m's brown, bearded face the girls had to make new acquaintanco. But, though changed in appearance, it was in appearance only. Norman "^vhh the same mnth-loving lad as ever. Ho was fi-ftuk and tnithl'iil, too, if he was still tliou^^htleas i aud JANET ri LOVE AND 6EKVICE. 157 ice, Craeme tokl licrsolf many a time, v/itb pride and tliankful- uess, that as yet, the world had not changed fov the worse, the brother for whom she had dreaded its temptations most of alL Nonnan's letters had always been longest and most fi-e- quent; and yet, it was he who had the mt)st to tell. If his active and exposed life as an engineer at the "West hud any- thing ini})leasant in it, this was kept ont of sight at home, and his adventm'es never wearied the chilth'cn. His " once upon a linio" was the signal for silence and attention among the little ones; and even the older ones listened with interest to Nonnan's rambling stories. ISor did their ^interest cease "when the sparkle in Norman's eye told that his part hi the tale was ended; and the adventures of an imaginary hero begun. There was one story Tvhich they were never thed of hearing. It needed none of Norman's imaginary horrors to chase the blood fi'om the cheeks of his sisters, when it was told. It was the story of the burning steamboat, and ho\v little Hilda Bremer had been saved fi'om it; the only one out of a family of eight. Father, mother, brothers, all periished together; and she was left alone in a strange land, with nothhig to keep her fi'om despair but the kuid words of strangers, uttered in a tongue that she could not miderstand. It w^ould, perhaps, have been wiser in Norman to have given her up to the land people who had kno^^ll her parents in their own land; but ho had saved the clnlirs life, and when she clung to hhn m her soiTow, calling Imii dear names ui her own tongue, he could not bear to send her away. " These people were poor, and had many children of their own," said Norman. " I would have thought it a hard lot for IMenie or Rosie to go with them; and when she begged to stay with me, I could not send her with them. If it had not Ijcen so far, i would have sent her to you, Graeme. But as I could '.'t do that, I kept her with me while I stayed in 0. and tliere I sent her to school. Thev say she bids fau' to bo a loained lady some day." r , 1 I; I h\ m 158 *" Janet's love and servick. This was an item of news that Norman's letters ha J n' it conveyed. They only knew that he had saved Hilda from the bui'ning boat, and that he had been kind to her after- wards. " But Norman, man, the expense ! " said the pnident j\Irs. Nasmyth, "you havcna surely run yourself in debt?" Nor- man, laughed. " No; but it has been cloie shaving sometimes. However, it would have been that anyway. I am afr'aid I have not the faculty for keeping money, "^nd I might have spent it to worse purpose." * And is the little thing grateful ?" asked Graeme. * Oh ! yes; I suj^pose so. She is a good httle thing, and is always glad to see me in her qmct way." "It 's a pity she 's no' bonny," said Marian. "Oh! she is bonny in German fashion; fan* and fat" " How old is she ? " asked Mm. Nasmyth. Norman, considered. " Well, I really can't say. Judging by her inches, I should say about Rosie's age. But she is wise enough and old- fashioned enough to be Rosie's gi-andmothcr. She 's a queer little thing." "Tell us more," said Rose; " do you go to see her often?" " As often as I can. She is very quiet; she was the only girl among the eight, and a womanly httle thing even then. You should hear her talk about her little business matters. My dear Mrs. Nasmyth, you need not be afraid of my being extravagant, with such a careful little woman to call mo to account. " I have a gi'cat mmd to send her home to you in the Bl-)rmg, Graeme, It seems very sad for a child like her to be gi'owuig up with no other home but a school. She seems happy enough, however." " And would she like to come V "She says she would n't; but, of com-so, she would hke it, if she were once here. I must see about it in the spring.'* The wedding-day came, and in spite of many efforts to pre- vent it, it was rather a sad day to them all. It found Janet JANET ri IX VK AND SEKVICE. 159 311. lug to it, bIIII " in a swithcr." 8I10 could not divest herself of tlio idea that she was forsakm.ijf " the bauiis." "And, Oh! Miss Ciraenio, my dear, if it wcrena for the thought of seeing my mother and Sandy, my heart would fail mo quite. And are you quite sure that you are pleased now, dear ? " "Janet, it was bceauselwas selfish that Iwasna pleased from the veiy first ; and you arc not really gohig away fi'om us, only just down the brae." Graeme did not look very glad, however. But if the wed- ding-day was rather sad. Thanksgiving-day, that soon followed, was far otherwise. It was spent at the Deacon's. Miss Lovejoy chstuiguished herself forever by her chicken-pics and fixings. Mr. and INIrs. Snow surpassed themselves as host and hostess; and even the ministe>r was merry with the rest. Emily was at home for the occasion ; and though at first she had been at a loss how to take the change, Menie's delight decided her, and she was delighted, too. Tliey gi'ew quiet in the cvenuig but not sad. Seated aroimd the fire in the parlor, the young peo2)le spoke much of the time of thcii* coming to Merleville. And then, they went further back, and spoke about then* old home, and their mother, and their long voyage on the " Steadfast." "I wonder what has become of Allan Ruthvcn," said ^larian. " It 's strange that you have never seen him, Arthur." " I may have seen him twenty times without knowhig him. You mind, I vras not on the ' Steadfast' with you." "But Harry saw him; and, surely, he could not havo changed so much but that he wtmld know him now if he saw hhn." "And do you know no one of the name? " asked Graeme. "I have heard of several Ruthvens in Canada West. Aiid the house of Elpliistone and GQchrist have a Westeni agent of that name. Do you know anything about him Hany '? ^\^lo knows but he may be Allan Kuthveu of the * Stead- fust.' " i 160 JA^'LTd LOVE A2W oUEVlCE. (( No, I tlionglit ho might be, and inado iuquirics," said Many. '• Uut thai lluihven seems qiiito an old fogie. Ho has becu iu the employmeut of that firm ever since the Hood, — at least, a long time. Do you mind iUlan Ruthven, Menie?" j " Muid him !" That she did. INIenie was veiy quiet to-night, —saying little, Ijiit listening happily as she lay on the sofa, mth her head on Graeme's knee. "jilllan ^vas the lirst one I licard say our Mcnie Avas a beauty," said Norman. " I\Ienie, do you muid ?" Menie laughed. " Yes, I nmid." "But I think Rosie was his pet. Cilraemo, don't you mind how he used to walk up and down tho deck, with llosie in his arms ?" " But that was to rest Graeme," said Harry. " Miss llosie was a small tyrant in those days." llosie shook her head at him. " Eh ! wasna she a cankered fairy ?" said Norman, taking Rosie's fair face between his hands. " Graeme had enough ado with you, I can tell you." " And with you, too. Never heed him, Rosic," said Graeme, smiling at her darling. " I used to admuo Graeme's patience on the ' Steadfast/ " Baid Hany. *' I did that before the days of the ' Steadfast,' " said Ai'thur. Rosio pouted her pretty lips. " I must have been an awful creature." *' Oh ! awful," said Norman. '* A spoilt bami, if ever there was one," said Hany. " I think I see you hiding your face, and refusing to look at any of us." " I never thou.ght Graeme could make anything of you. ' said Norman. " Graeme has though," said tho elder sister, laughing. " I wouldna give my bonny Scottish Rose, for all your western lilies, Norman." And so they went on, jestingly. Janet's love and beuvice. ICl **Meme," said iVi'tliiu-, suJJciJy, "what do you sec in the fire?" Meiiio wiia gazing \vitli darkening eyes, in among the red t mbcrs. iShc started when lier brotlicr spoke. ■ " I see — Oh ! many tilings. I see oiu* okl garden at homo, — m Ckiyton, I mean — and " " It must be an imagmary garden, then. I am biu'O you canna mind that." " ISIind it ! indeed I do. I see it as plainly as possible, just as it used to bo. Only somehow, the spring and sum- mer flowers all seem to be in bloom together. I see the lilies and tho daisies, and the tall white rosebushes blossoming to the very top." " And the broad green walk," said Harry. " Aiid the summer house." "And tho hawthorn hedge." " And the fir trees, dark and high." "And the two apple trees." " Yes, — the tree of life, and tlie tree of the knowledge of good and e\il, I used to think them," said Norman. *' And I, too," said ]Menie. " Whenever I think of tho gar- den of Eden, I fancy it like our garden at home." " Your imagination is not very biilliant, if you can't get beyond that for Paraihso," said Ai'thm*, laugliing. " Well, maybe not, Ijut I always do thhik of it so. Oh ! it was a bonny place. I wish I could see it again." " Well, you must bo ready to go homo with me, in a year or two," said Norman. " You needna laugh, Graeme, I am gomg homo as soon as I get rich." " In a year or twol you 're uao blate !"' " Oh ! wo wmna need a great fortune, to go home for a. visit. We *11 come back again. It will be time enough to make oiu* fortune then. So be ready Mcnie, wheu I come f(jv you." " Many ft thuig may happen, before a year or two," Raid Marian, gi'avely. *'Many a thing, indeed," said Graeme and Norumi>5in a 11 I il 102 JAXI:T ri I.OVE AND SEKVICE. breath. But while Gri:3me gazed with sudden gi'avity into ner sister's Ihished face, No;man added, laughingly, "I shouldn't wonder but you would prefer another es- cort, before that time comes. I say, Menic, did anybody ever tell yc'u how bonny you arc growing ?" Menie laughed, softly. I " Oh ! yes. Emily told me when she came home ; and so did Hany. And you have told me so yoiu'selt to-day, al- ready.' * " You vain fairy ! and do you really think yoi^ 're bonny ?" " Janet says, I 'm like Aunt Marian, and she was bonnier even than mamma." " Like Aunt INIanan !" Graeme remembered Janet's words with a pang. But she strove to put the thought fi'om her ; and with so many bi-ight faces roiuid her, it was not difficult to do to-night. Siu'oly if Marian were ill, and in danger, the rest would see it too. And even Janet's anxiety, had been at rest for a while. Menie was better now. I low meny she bad been with her brothers for the last few days. And though she seemed very weary to-night, no wonder. So were they all. Even Rosic, the tireless, was half asleep on Ar- thur's knee, and when all the pleasant bustle was over, and they were settled down in theii* old quiet way, her sister would be herself again. Nothing so ten*ible conJd be draw- ing near, as the di'ead which Janet had startled her with that day. " Emily," said Hany, " w hy do you persist in going back to that horrid school ? Why don't you stay at home, and enjoy yourself ?" '• I 'm not going to any horrid school," said Emily. " You can't make me beheve that you would rather be ai school than at home, doing as you please, and having a good time with Rose and Menie here." Emily laughed. " I would like that ; but I like going back to school too." ** But you' 11 be getting so awfully wise that there will bo no talking to you, if you stay much longcx'," Janet's love and sEiiVicK. 1()3 " In that case, it might do you good to listen," saidEaiily, laugliing. " But you are altogctlier too wise ah'cady," Han-y persist- ed. " I really am quite afi'aid to ojien my lips in your pres* cnce." " We have all been wondering at your strange silence, and lamenting it," said Ai-' bur. " But, indeed, I nuist have a -svord with the deacon about it," said Harry. "I can't understand how he has allowed it so long already. I must bring my influence to bear on him." "You needr't," said Emily. "I have almost prevailed upon Gracjno, to let Menie go back with me. There will be two learned laches then." Graeme smiled, and shook her head. " Not till summer. We '11 see what summer brings. Manv things may happen before summer," she added, gravely. They all assented gravely too, but not one of them with any anxious thought of troaljlt; drawing near. They grew quiet after that, and each sat thinking, but it was of pleasant things mostly ; and if on anyone there fell a shadow for a moment; it was but with the thouj^ht of the morrow's paint- ing, and never with tJie dread that they might not all meet on oaiih p. gain- ed [ft ' CHATTER XVII. rn[ 1HEY all wont away — the lads and Emily, and qnictneKS I fell on those that rom'^'incd. Th*^ reaction from the cxcitem* it in which they hau u- . living for the last few weeks was vevy cvidcr.t in all. '' ;v<. m Vill. and liosie needed coaxing to go baek to the learniii^, of 1" sons, and the enjoy- ment of their old pleasures ; and so CJraeme did not wonder that Marian was dull, and did nf)t care to exert herself. The weather had changed, too, and they quite agi'ced in thinking it was nmcli nicer to stay within doors than to take their usual walks and drives. So i\[arian occupied tl»e ann-chair or the sofa, with work in her hand, or without it, as the case might be, and In^r sister's fears with regard to her were, for a time, at rest. For she did not look ill ; she was as cheerful as ever, entering into all the new arrangements ^vhicli Janet's de])artui'e rendered necessary with interest, and sharing with Graeme the light household tasks that fell io her lot when the " help " was busy with heavier matters. Tliere was not nmch that was unpleasant, for the kind and •watchful eyes of oMrs. Snow were (juitc cnptible of keeping in view the interests of two households, and though no longer one of the family, she was still the riiluig spirit in then' domestic alTairs. ^Yith her usual care for the welfare of the bairns, she had sent the exjiericnced Plaimah Lovej(^y up the brao, while she contented herself with "breaking in" Sephronia, Hannah's less helpful youngtn* sister. There was a gi'cat difllrcnco between the service of love that had all their life long shielded them fi*om trouble and annoyance, and Miss Lovejoy's abrupt and rather familiar ministrations. But Hannah was faithful and capable, indeed, " a tj'easure," JANETS L0V12 AND SERVICE. 105 tions, V in theso days of dcatitution in the way of help ; and if hor service ■svn«« :-iacli as money conld well pay, slio did not f^nidgo it, while her wages were secure ; and housekeeping and its rc- pponsibilities were not so (hsagi'ecablo to (Iraemc as she had feared. Indeed, l)y the time the first letter from Norman came, full of mock sympathy for her iinder her new trials, she was (j[nite as ready to langh at lierself as any of the rest . Her faith in Hannah was becoming fixed, and it needed somo expostulations fi'om ]\Irs. Snow to prevent her from letting the supremo powei, as to household matters, pass into the hands of her energetic auxiliary. " jNly dear," said she, *' there 's many a thing that Hannah could do well enough, mavl )0 Ijotter than vou could, for that matter ; but you should do them yourself, notwithstandinr. It's better for her, and it's better for you, too. Eve). ■ woman should take pleasure in these household cares, if they arc irksome at first they winna be when you aro iv ^d to them ; and, my d(\'ir, it may help you through many a hoiu" of trouble and weariness to be able to turn your hand to these things. There is gi*eat comfort in it sometimes." Graeme laughed, and suggested other resources that might do as well to fall back upon in a time of trouble, but Mrs. Snow was not to be moved. " My dear, that may 1)C all true. I ken books aro fine tilings to keep folk from thinking for a time ; but the trouble that is put away that way comes bade on one again ; and it 's only wlien folk are doing their duty that the Lord gives them abiding comfort. I ken liy myself. There have been days in my life when my heart must have Ijccn Ijroken, or my brain gi'own crazed, if I hachia needed to do this and to do that, to go here and to go there. My dear, woman's work, that 's never done, is a gi'cat help to many a one, as well as me. i\jid trouble or no trouble, it is what you ought to know and do in a'oui' father's house." So Graeme submitted to her fi'iend's judgment, and con- scientiously tried to become wise in all household matteis, keeping track of pieces of beef and bags of Hour, of break* 1 k i loa JANKTti LOVK AND hlliVU'i!. fastri, dinners and Rnp])or.s, in a way that excited admiration, and sonietinics other I'eelingH, in the mind of tlic capablo Hannah. So a very pleasant winter wore on, and the days were bo ginniii*]; to grow long again, before the old dread was awalijned in (Iraeme. For only in one way was Marian tiiflerent from her old self. She did not come to exert her- self. She was, perhaps, a little qnieter, too, but she was quite cheerful, taking as much interest as ever in homo allairs and in the aH'iiir,-} of the village. Almost every day, after the sleighing became good, she enjoyed a drive with (iraeme or her father, or with Mr. Snow in his big sleigh after the *' bonny greys." They paid visits, too, stopping a few minutes at Judge Merle's or Mr. Greenleaf 's, or at somo other fi'ieudly home in the village ; and if then* friends' eye« grew gi'avc and very tender at the sight of thorn, it did not for a long time come into Graeme's mind that it was because they saw somethmg that was invisible as yet to lier's. So the tbne wore on, and not one in the minister's happy house- liold knew that each day that passed so peacefully over them was leaving one less between them and a great sorrow. The first fear was awakened in Graeme by a very littlo thing. After several stormy Sabbaths had kept her sister at home fi'om chiu'ch, a mild, bright day came, but it did not tempt her out. "I am very sorry not to go, Graeme," said she; "but I was so weary last time. Let me stay at home to-day." So she stayed : and all the way down the hill and over r at tlio other eiul of tho broad aiylo, and tliat Mrs. Grcciileaf h.id much ado to kec'i) fast lu»ld of hor im patient boy till she shinild speak a word with hor. ]jut sho could not trust herself to meet them and to answer them quietly, and hurriid away. So she went, homo again, over tho valley and nj) the hill with the darkness still round her, till Meiiie's bright smile and cheerful welcome chased both pain and darkness away. But when tho rest were; gone, and the sisters were left to the Sabl)ath quiet of the deserted home, tlu; fear came Imek again, for in a little jMarian laid herself down with a sigh of weai'iness, and slept with her cheek laid on tho 13il)le that she held in her liand. As Graeme listened to her quick breathing, and watched the hectic rising on her cheek, she felt, for the moment, as tliough all hope were vain. But sIk? i)ut tho thought from her. It was too dreadful to bo true ; and she chid herself for always seeing the possible dark side of future cvcntr?, and told herself that sho must change in this respect. AVith all her might she strove to reason away tho sickening fear at her heart, saying how utterly beyond belief it was that Menio could Ije goini; to die — Picnic, who had always bc( n so well and so merry. She was growing too fast, that was all ; and when the spring came again, they would all go to some quiet place by the sea-shore, and nui about among tho rocks, and over the sands, till she should bo well and strong as ever again. " If spring were only come 1" sho sighed to herself. But first there were weeks of frost and snow, and th(>n weeks of bleak -weather, before the mUd sea-breezes could blow on her drooping flower, and Ciraeme could not reason her fears away ; nor when the painful hour of thought was over, and Menie opened her eyes with a smile, did her cheerful sweet- ness chase it away. After this, for a few days, Graeme gi'cw impatient of her Bister's quietness, and strove to win her to her old employ- ments again. She would have her struggle against her wish 11 ICS JANKTB LOVK AND SEIlV/CE. "■h: 1^; i to bo still, aihl took lior to rido and to viHif, and ovon to walk, when tlio day wiih fino. ]>ut tliiw was not for lou^. Monio yielded al\vayn, and tried with all her nii/j^lit to Boeni well and not weary : but it waH not always with success ; and Ciraemc saw that it was in vain to urgo her l^eyond her Btrenp^tli ; ho, in a little, she was allowed to fall back into hor old ways again. *M will speak to Dr. Chittenden, and know the worsl," said Graeme, to herself, but her heart grew bick at the thought of what the worst might bo. By and by there came ix mild bright day, more like April than Januaiy. Mr. Elliott had gone to a distant paii of the parish for the day, and had taken AVill. and Kosie with him, and the sisters were left jiloiie. (Jraemc would have gladly availed herself of Deacon Snow's ofl'or to lend them grey Major, or to drive them himself for a few miles. The day was so flue, she said to ^Menio ; but she was loth to go. It would bo so pleasant to l^e a whole day (luite alone together. Or, if Graeme liked, they might s(>ud down for Janet in tho afternoon. Graeme sighed, and urged no more. "Wo can fmish our book, you Iniow," went on IMenio. "And there are the last letters to read to Mrs. Snow. I hope nobody v.ill come in. AVe shall have such a quiet day." But this was not to bo. There was the sound of sleigh* bells beneath the a\ indow, and Graeme looked out. "It is Dr. Chittenden," said she. IMarian rose from the sofa, trying, as she always did, when the Dr. came, to look strong and well. She did not take liis visits to herself. Dr. Chittenden had alwavs come now and then tq seo her father, and if his visits had been more fre- quent of late they had not boon more formal or jDrofessional than before. Graeme watched him as ho fastened Ins horse, and then went to the door to meet him. "My child," said ho, as he took her hand, and tiuned her face to the light, " are you quite well to-day ? " "Quite well," said Graeme; but sho was very palo, and her cold hand trembled in hirj. •Ux.;t'» i.ovn a.vd su».,o,-. (.v,,, ~ "•• . ICO «-«;a t. p-eot l,i„, "' ''"' ''^"' 1"^ »3 Muri.,. ca,no /or- «omo,lo„btH „l,„„t „,„„ „ ; - «»f, I'll SCO. I ,,„,„ '»twocn Li.s l,a„,,, „^ ,, ,, '^f "• f'"" ^-o tl.at J,o took f^^ anxio„..,v upon ,„„, ' :'., \:";' "'^' f"'— 'h look .0 had «omcli,nc.s done on /"l ' "'"'' '"■•' '""-•'''/ a« w ,ono wahl: t r :::; ;,f '■■ "r, "■■'^'- ^-o c.hiM..o„ I-.CO quiot dav," said Marian "■ '""' ^ "'' ^"'"^ '- I'uvo 1 ;;w47:,f>^ "■'''' '-.^-'Hhodooto... -No. Only I don't caio fo ,■ i ■ . ^''?:.. , , ^ ""'"' ^^^••-^^^"o, thank Heme poutod. "And G,- . . . °°'"" """^ '>'<>•" Wiuch does not npovo Msa fv„ . o^^l'.ss Graeme's w-sdoin," said tho i 170 JANI/r'b I.OVK AND SKHVlCii:. I ! doctor. "AVhy, cliild, how many April days do you think we aro goin^ to liav*} in January? Bo tliankfid for tho diancc to go out ; for, if I am not much mistaken, wo aro to have a Btorm tliat will kc('i) us all at lionic. IMiss Gracmo, gut yr/-'r sister's things. It is health for her to be out ia such a day." (iracmc ^^•ent without a word, and when she came back tlio doctor said, "There is no haste. I am goiiipf farther, and will call as I come ])ack. J An down, dear child, aTid rust just now." Graeme left the room, and as the doctor turned to go out, bIio beckoiUHl him into tho stud v. "You don't ujoan to tell mc that Menie is in danger ? " said she, with a gasj). "I am by no means sm'c what I shall say to you. It will depend on how you are likely to lis' on," said the doctor, gravely. (Iraeinc strove to command herself and speak calmly. * Anything is better than susi)enso," Then, laying her baud on his arm, she added, "She is not worse! Sinvly you would have told us! ■" "My dear young lady, calm yourself. She is not worso than she has Ijccu. The cliances of recoveiy are altogether in her favor. The indications of disease are comi)aratively shght — that is, slie has youth on her side, and a good consti- tilt ion. If the montli of March were over, we would have little to fear with anotlier summer before us. Your motlier did not die of c()nsum])tion ? " "No, but " Tlie remembrance of s^hal Janet had told her about their "bonny Aimt IMarian" took away Gracme't? power to s^x^ak. " Well, s'-'v. have everything to hope; if we can see lu r Hafely through ilu) sprmg without takhig cold, and you must kec^p her cheerful." " She is alwnvs cheerful" k'' "Well — that 'h well. You inust not let her do anytliing to weary hers.'lf. I don't hko the stovo heat for her. You JANr/i" S LOVF, AND 6ERVTCF. in ■^y mvo tlicr must Yuu eliould let hor sleep iii the other room where the lirfplaco is. When the days are line, she must bo well \\ru)->peil up and go out, and I well send her KOllletllin^^ ]\Iy dear, you have no occasion for despondeney. The chances ai'e all in her faror." He went toward the door, but eamc l):ick again, and after walking up and down the room for a Uttle, he came close to Graeme. ".Ynd if it were not ko, my child, you are a Cliristian. If the possil)ility you have be^'U contemplating should become a reahty, ought it to l)o deplored ? " A strong shuddi'r passed over Graeme, The doctor paused, not able to witlistand the pain in lier face. "Nay, my child — if you could keej) her hero juid assure to her all that the world can give, what woultl that l)e in com- parison with the ' rest tliat renuuneth ? ' Tor her it would bo far better to go, and for you — when your time comes to lio down and die — would it sooth you then to know that she nuist be left l)ehind, l.o travel, perhaps, witli gannents not unspotted, all the toilsome way alone V" (iraeme's face drooped till it was (piitt; hidden, and her tears fell fast. Iler friend did not seek to check them. "I know the first thought is t<'rrible. But, child! the grave is a safe place in which to keep oir treasures. Mine ore nearly all there. I would not have it othenviso — and they are safe from the ehances of a changeful world. You will be glad for yourf:clf by and by. You should l)e glad for yom' sister now." "If I wi-re sure — if I were ([uite sure, ' murmuriHl Graeme tJu'ough her weeping. "Sure that she is going home? " said the doctor, stooping low to whisjier the words. *' I think you may be sure — as BUi'o as one can be in such a case. It is a great mysleiy. Yom' fatlier V ill kriow best. God is good. IVay for her." "My father! Ho does not cv( n think of danger." Graeme clasped lier hands with a (piick despuiring motion. "Misa Uruemc;" said the doctor, hastily, "you must not \ i12 JAMi'i's LOVE AUD Sl.lCVlCE. Bpcak to your father yoi. IMariuu'fj cjiso in hy no moana hopdosH, and your father must bo qiarcd nil anxiety at pre- sent. A sudden .shock niij^jht — " he paused. "Is not my fatlicr well? Has lio not quito recovered?" asked Clraeme." " (^uite well, my dear, don't be fanciful. But it will do no f(ood to distiul) liiui now. I will speak to him, or give you leave to speak to him, if it should become necessary. lu the meantime you nuist be cheerful. Y(ni have no cause to bo otherwise." It was cii-y to say " be cheerful." But Graeme hardly hoped for lur sister, after that day. Often and often she repeated to heroclf the doctor's words, tluit there was no im- mediate dau^or, but she could take no comfort fi'om them. The j';r('at dread was always upon her. She never spoko of her fears a;^'aiu, and shrank from any allusion to her sistcr'a fitato, till her friends — and c^ven the faithful Janet, who knew her so well — doubted whether she reah^ed the danger, which was becomiug eviiy day more apparent to them all. But she knew it w( 11, and si rove wit)?, all her power to look cahnly forward to the time when the worst must come ; and idmost alway.;, in her sister's presence, bIio strove succes.s- fully. But these (piiet, cheerfiU hours in IMarian's room, were purchased by horns of prayerful agony, known only to Him who is fidi of compassion, oveu when liis chastisomtuta aro moBt yovcro. If' CHAPTER XVIII to Litj NO. Noiio know .so well as CiriU'iiic tliiit lier sister w;i3 ]^iissmf^ away from ainon^' thorn ; but oven slio did not dream Low near tlio time was numo. Even whon the ni^^'htly journey up staus was more than jMariaji could aecompU.sh, and the pretty parlor, doHpoiled of its ornamontH, bocamo her Bick-vooni, (Iraomo prayed daily ft>r .stronyih to carry her thnjiij^'h the lon^ months of walchin;^% that kIic believed wero before her. ^V>i far as possible, every thing went ou as usmJ in the house;. The children's lessons wero learned, and ro- citin at her heart, that she felt she must get away to weep out her tears aLme. lint slie nmst liave patience a littl(5 longer, and so, lying down on the 1 ed, she suffered the waKced arms to clasp tluiuselves i^ljout her neek, and for a time tlio sisters lay cheek to elieek in sik'iico. " Graeme," said Marian, at last, " do you thuik papa kens ? " "AVhat, love?" "That 1 am going soon. You know it, CSraemc!?" Graeme's heart stirred with a sudilcn throb of paiji. There was a nishing in her ears, and a dinniess befoj'* b.or eyes, as though the drt>aded enemy had already c^mc, but .shu L md voie;' to say, softly, "You 'ro no' feared, ^Menic? " "No," said ^.lle, quickly, then raising herst>lf up, and ienn- ing close over, so as to see her sister's face, she added, "Do you think T need to fear, Graeme':' " If she had had a thousand worlds to give, she would Imvo given all to know that her little sister, standing on the brink Oi the river oi dcnih, need not fear to enter it. •' None ne.-'J lenr who trust in Jesus," said she, softly. *' No. And I iiit a," wbl-^pered C raome, "My darling hav« you iiome ; " m If JA:>'LTtt LOVE \ND SEUVICi:. 175 "I think ho has drawn mo to HiiiiFy all njy lif(>, and hai)py to tlu; end. It seems hardly fair, (Iraeme, when there are flo many that have so nuich sulVciinj^." "Clod has betii V(>ry {^'ood to you, dear." *' And you '11 It t mo <^o willin^j^ly, (Iraeme? " "Oh ! IMcnie, must you {j^o. Could you Jio' bid(> wiili us a little while?" said (Iraeme, h"r tetu's eomin*,' fast A look of pail, came to her sister's face. "Graeme," said she, softly ; "at first I thought I eouklna bear to f,'o and leav(^ you all iJut it seems easy now. And you wouldna bnM;( back the i)ain, dear? " " No, no ! my darling,'." **At fast you Jl all be sorry, Init (Jod will comfort you. And my father wiiuia have long to wait, and you'll hii\ Jiosio and AVill. — << — and, (iivunie, you \\'\\l tell jyaj^a?" Yes, I will tell hhn." He'll j^ahivo at first — and I could m.i l)ear to see him {grieve. After he has time to tiiink about it, he will l)e kI'^'^-" '•And Arthur, and all the rest " nun-nuu'ed (Jraeme. A momentary shadow passed over ^larian's fr.ee. Oh I (Iraeme, at first I thouf^ht it would br(>uk my heart to leave you all — ])ut I am willin<^ now. God, I trust, has mivdo mo willin;^-. And alter u little th(;y will bo (( 1 1 '^M ^n^^^^--^^^— 1 • o JANET^S LOVE AN J) BEK . !C3L 1 1 ^ li.'ipj)y again. But they will uovcr forget mo, will tlioy Graomo?" "My (liirling! novor! " " 8ometiniC'S I •wihIi I Lad known — I ^vi.sll I had been (luito Biu'c, when thoy were all at homo. I would like to have said Bomctliing. But it docsna really matter. Tlicy will never forget me ." " We will send for them," Raid Oraeino, through her tearr-f. *' I don't know. I tlunk iioi. It woiQd grieve them, and 1 ean bear ho little now. And wo were bo happy the last time. I think they luid best not eome, Graeme.'^ But the words were; slow to come, and her eyes tiu'ned. oh ! BO wistfully, to her sister's face, who had no words with which to answer. " 8onietiiius I ch'oam of th< ni, and when I waken, I do so long to so(! ihem," and the tears gathered slon-ly in her eyes " But it is ;u'. well as it is, p('rhai)s. I would rather they would think of mc as I us( d io be, than to see mo now. No, Graeme, I think I will wait." In the ]xinse that followed, she kissed her si. l'3r softly many Ihnes. "Tl, won't be l<»ng. And, Graeiiu' — I shall seo our mother first- -and you must have patience, and wait. '\Vo slndl all get si'i'e honu! at last — I am quite, 7'/.'' sure of ihat." A step was heard at the door, and Mrs. Hnow entered. " Weel, l)airns ! " w as jdl she said, as slio sat dow7i bosido ibem. She saw that they were both much moved, and slm laid her kind hand caressingly on the hair of the eldest sister, as thu.igh she know she was the one who needed comfortin«». "Have the bairns conu' .■* * K.;ked wienie. •'No, dear, I jjado them bide till I went down the brao again. Do you want t la ni homo?" • *' Oh no ! I only woiidered why I didna hear them." Tho wind howled drearily about the house, and they listened ic it for 11 tinio hi silenco. "It \> no* like spring to-night, JaucL" H;iid ^tenie. "No, dea^, it's ns wintry a night as wo have hml this whil'. janet'b love ano bkrvice. 17T lier all idt) blftO Lhoy But tlio wind is cbatiging to the south now, saA we 11 boou Beu the bare bills again. " " Yes ; I hope so," saiil Ivlenie, softly. " Aro you wearying for the spring, dear ? " "Whiles I weary." But the longing in thoso "bonn^ e'en " was for no enrtlily npring, Janet well know. " I aye mind the tinio when I gathered tlio sn()W(h'oi)s and daisies, and the one rose, on my mother's birtliday. It was long before this time of the year — and it seems long to wait for spring." " Ay, I muul ; but that was in the sheltered garden at tho El)ba. There were no flowers blooming on the bare hills in Seotland then more than Ik re. You muslna begin to weiuy for tho K]nhig yet. You'll get do\\n the l)rae uoon, maybo, and then you winna weary." Menio made no answer, but a spasm passed over the* face of Graeme. Tho same thought was on the mind of all tho three. AVhen INIenio went down tho brae again, il : :ist bo with eyohds closed, and willi hands f»lded on a lujuL at rest f'»rever. "Janet, wIk'U will Sandy eomeV Have you gtjt a lettei yot?" "Yes ; T got a letter to-day. It wiiuia Ite long now." " Oh ! I hope not. I want to see him and your mother. I want them to sec mo, too. Si.jdy would hardly mind mo, if ho didna eomo till afterwards." " IMiss Ci'aemo, my dear," said ^\ys. Snow, hoarsely, "go ben and sit with ylusl. I'onsciouB tuily of one thought, tliat Menio must die, and I lat the iinio was hastening. 1^ 11: 178 jANirrs LOVE AND btcrvict:. Yofl. It \va.^ coiiiiiif* vciy iioar now. (\iA help tboiii all Weary with the niiavailiiipf Htruf^f,'le, weary to faiiitiicss with tlio burden of care and Borrow, nho had homo throuj^h all theso niontliH of watchin;^', to-night nho let it fall. Sho bowed herself utterly down. " So let it be ! God's will bo done !" And leaniuf^ with bowed head and clasped hands over tho little gat<», where she had stood in many a changing mood, she prayed as twice or thrice in a life time. God gives power to his children to pray— faco to faec> — in His very presence, (iivuig her will and wish up quite, sho lay at his feet lilio a little child, chas iied, yet consoled, saying ut)t with her hps, but with the soul's deepest ])reathing, " I am Thine. Savo me." Between her and all earlhly things, e\ce])t the knowl- edge tliat h(>r sister was dying, a kindly veil was inteii)osed. No foreshadowing of a future more utterly bei-eaved than Memo's death would bring, darkened tho light which this mon'^utai'y glimpse of her Lord revealed. In that hour sho nto angel's food, and froju it received strength to walk through deH(>rt places. She Ktart(!d as a hand was laid upon her shoulder, but her liead di'ooped again as she met Mr. Snow's look, so grave in its kindliness. "Miss Graeme, is it L(st you should bo out here in tho cold?" "No," said Graeme, huni1)ly. ** I am going in." But sho did not move oven to withdraw herself frcuu the gentle pres* sure of his hand. "Miss (Jraeme," said ]u\ as they stood thus witli (he gate between tliem, "hadn't you better give up now, and let tlio Lord do as lb* 's a mind to about it V" "Yes," said (Jraeme, "I j(ive U]). His will lie done." **Amen!" saitl her friend, and the hand that rested oii her rthoulder was i)laced upon h(>r head, and Graeme knew thafc in "the golden vials full of odors" before the throne, Deacon Snow's prayer for her found a place. Slio open«x] the gate aiul held it till ho passed Ihrough, Janet*8 love and service. iro ftud then follo'.vod him up tbo path into Haniuih's bright kitdicn. "Will you go in and roo papa, or in thore?" asked she, glancing towards the parlor door, and shading her eyes as bIic Kpoko. " Well, I guess I '11 sit down here. It won't he long hcforo Mis' Snow 'U be going along d(jwn. But don't you wait. Go light in to your father." Graeme opened the study door and went in. ♦'I will tell him to-night," said sh(\ " Crod help us." Her father wa.ssittuig m the lirehght, holdhig an open let- ter m his han;- I t1iou;j^ht I asked Cod's i^niidin^', and I was jxrsuadcd into lliinlviii^' I had fifotten it. I^nt you seo my heart was set on it from the vtry first — guidinj^ or no fj^iid* in;;- — and now tlie Lord has seen fit to jnuiish mo for my Belf-seokiuf:^." "Oh, Janet!" said Graeme, remonstratin«,'ly. "My dear, it's true, tliou/^di it sets mo ill to vex j'ou with layiuf-T it now. I have more need to take the lesson to heart. May the Lord {.i^ivo me p^*aee to do it." (iraeme could say notliin^!^, and Janet conthiued — "It's ill done in mo to f^rievo for her. She is far better off than ever I could have mailo her with the best of wills, and im for me — I must submit." "You have Sandy still." "Aye, tliank God. IMay lie have him in His keeping." "And ho will como yet." " Yes, I have littlo doubt But I '11 no' sot mysolf to the .T.VNKrS LOVK AND fiEllVICK. 181 liowin<^ on< of broken ci,storiis this whilo ugiiin. Tlic IjOi'iI kens best." After tliat night ]Mrs. Snow ncvi r left tliu Louflo for nmny liomH lit a tiiiio till ^lejiio went iiwav. (irtu-nio never told her father of tlio Horrow that was di'awin;^' near. Ah tiio days wont on, she saw l)y many a token, that he knew of the coni- inf^ partinpf, bnt it did not Hoeni to look rorrowful to him. Ho was jinifh with her now, but all eonld see that the hours by her bed-side; were not sorrowful oiu>s to him or to her. I5ut to Graemo ho did not spoak of her ni.^ter's state till near tho very lasfc. They were sitting together in the lh\ light of tho study, as they seldom sat now. Thoy jiad boon sitting thus a long time — so loii,'f lliat Oracnic, forgetthig to wear a ehcerful look in her father's preseaee, had let her weary eyes eloso, and her hands drop listlessly on her lap. Siie looked ut- terly weary and despondent, as slio sat there, ing. Sho trembled from heid to foot in her elVort to keep herself quiet. Her father watelu d her for a moment. " Graeme, you are not grudging your sister to such bless- edne.sa?" "Not now, papa," whispered she, heavily. "I unt almost williug now.'* I 1 yt '.f. i cM r, ''M s ...sJ i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A K^ < ^<^/% v.. 1.0 I.I 1.25 ||M 2.2 lis lllllio 1.8 U IIM.6 6' V] <^ /a c^l ^i2 c^.^ ^> /A "^W^^i '/ Photographic Sciences Corporation ^'^ #> '% V f>^ \ \ > V .V.S \ % 'v^ ^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 "^0 £^ \° "'^> ¥ 182 JANET'S LOVK AND SERVICE. J 'I " What is the happiest life here — and Menie's has been happy — to the blcssodiiess of the rest which I confidently be- Ueve awaits her, dear child ?' " It is not that I grudge to let her go, but that I fear to l^e left behind." "Ay, love! But we must bide God's time. And j'ou will have your brothers and Hose, and you are young, and time heals sore wounds in young hearts." Graeme's head drooped lower. She was weeping unre- strainedly ^nit v'j[uielly now. Her father \7ent on — " And afterwards you v.'ill have many things to comfort you. I used to think in tlic time of my sorrow, that its sud- denness added to its bitterness. If it had ever come into my mind that your mother might leave me, I might hr-.ve borne it better, I thought. But God knows. There are some thmgs for wnicli we cannot prepare." There was a long silence. " Graeme, I have something which I must say to you," said lier father, and his vOice showed that he was siieakmg with an effort. *' If the time comes — when the time comes — my child, I gi'icve to give joii pain, but what I have to say had best be said now ; it will brh]g the time no nearer. My child, I have somethuig to say to you of the time when wo shall no longer be together — ." Graeme did not move. "My child, the backward look over one's hfo, is so differ- ent from the doubtful glances one sends into the future. I stand now, and see all the way by which God has led me, with a grieved wonder, tliat I should ever have doubted his love and care, and how it was all to end. The dark places, and the rough places that once made mj heart faint wdth fear, are, to look back upon, radiant with light and beauty — Mounts of God, vdth the bright cloud overshadowing them. And yet, I mind gi-o^mig about before them, hke a blind man, Anth a fear and divad unspeakable. " My child, are you hearing me 1 Oh ! if my experience could teach you ! I know it cannot be. The blessed lesson tliat suffering teaches, each must bear for himcc^lf ; and I ith ICC I JANET'S LOVE AND SKRYICE. 183 need not tell you that there never yet Wcas sorrow sent to a child of God, for which there is no balm. You are young • and wcaiy and spent as you are to-night, no wonder that you think at the sight, of the deej) wastes you may have to pass, and the di'eary waters you may have to cross. But there is no fear that you -wiW be alone, dear, or that He will give you anything to do, or bear, and yet Tvithhold the needed sti'ength. Are you lieaiing me, my child ?" Graeme gave a nmte sign of assent. " INIenie, dear child, has had a life bright and brief. Yours may be long and toilsome, but if the end be the same, what matter! you may desire to change with her to-night, but we caimot change our lot. God make us patient in it, — patient and helj)ful. Short as your sister's life has been, it has not been in vam. She has been like hght among us, and her memory will always be a blessedness — and to you Graeme, most of all." Graeme's lips opened with a cry. Turning, she laid her face down on her father's knee, and her tears feU fasc. Her father raised her, and clasping her closely, let lior weep for a little. "Hush love, calm yoiu'self,'' said he, at last. "Nay," ho added, as she would have risen, " rest here, my poor tired Graeme, my child, my best comforter always." Graeme's fi*ame shook with sobs. " Don't x^apa — I cannot bear it " She struggled with herself, and grc \v calm again. " Forgive me, papa. I know I ought not. And indeed, it is not because I am altogether unhappy, or because I anj not willing to let her go " " Hush, love, I know. You are yoiu' mother's own patient child. I trust you quite, Graeme, and that is why I have courage to give you pain. For I must say more to-night. If anything should happen to nic — hush, love. 'My saying it does not hasten it. But when I am gone, you will care for the others. I do not fear for you. You will always have kind friends in Janet and her husband, and will never want 12 I k <%ii I' R i< li 181 JANET S LOVE A:SD SERVICE. d home Avliilc iliey can give you one, I am siu'c. But Graeme, I would like you all to keep together. Be one family, as long as possible. So if Ai'tliur wishes you to go to him, go all together. He may have to work hard for a time, but you ^vill take a blessmg with you. And it will be best for all, that you should lieep together." The shock which her father's words gave, calmed Graeme in a moment. " But, paj)a, you are not ill, not more than you have been ?" " No, love, I am better, much better. Still, I wished to Bay this to you, because, it is always well to bo prepared. That is all I had to p;ay, love." But he clasped her to him for a moment still, and before he let her go, he whispered, solth', " I trust you quite, love, and yov 11 bring them all homo safe to your mother and mo." It was not very long after this, a few tranquil days and J) -'gilts only, and the end came. They were altogether in IMarian's room, sitlmg quietly after worship was over. It was the usual tmie for separating for the night, ]3ut they stiH lingered. Not that any of them thought it would be to-night. Mrs. Snow mi,L;lit have thought so, for never during the long evening, had slie sliired fi-om the side of the bed, but watch- ctl with earnest eyes, the ever changing face of the dyuig gill. She iiad Leon slumbcruig quietly for a little wliile, but suddenly, as Mrs. Snow bent over her more closely, she opened her eyes, and seeing something in her face, she said, with an echo of sui^prise in her voice, " Janet, is it to bo to-night ? iVi'e they all here. Papa, Cjraeme. "Where is Graeme ?"' Tliey were with her in a moment, and Grieme's cheek was laid ou her sister's wasted hand. " Well, m}' lammie !" eaid her father, softly. " Papa ! it is not too good to be true, is it ?" Her father bent down till his lips touched her cheek. " You ai'c not afr.ud, riv cliild V J'I-VEt'u !.< 'VK AM) siilivici :s5 ^J'raid ( no, it was nnf f , "' changed soon, an,, ho b> r^" [?' "" '" '"'=''■ '^•" " "o More these bonny oje, }Z , ''", "°'^<^'' "ff'in, he .,a,v over thorn. ^ '^'■'' '^•" J""«t's toihrorn hand laid Graeme's cJionl- c.rn i eoua put his a„n about L; 1 ' ^.^f -^l^--^ -md tho There is no need Trf i ^°^^- e-ivr^a hor." ternary fovgcihUncs ^vhich He hud i-'il 'S is' wsssa-stT--' CHAPTER XIX. f'T^HAT niglit, Graeme slept tlio cli*camlcss sleep of ultci I exliaustion, and the next day, whenever her father or ]\Ii-a. Snow stole in to look at her, she slept or seemed to sleep still. "She is weary," they said, in whispers. "Let her rest" Kind neighbors came and went, with offers of help and sym- pathy, but nothing was suffered to disturb the silence of the now darkened chamber. " Lot her rest," said all. But when the next night passed, and the second day was drawing to a close, Mrs. Snow became anxious, and her visits were more frequent. Graeme roused herself to drink the tea that she brought her, and to ]\Irs. Snow's question whe- ther she felt rested, she said, " Oh ! yes," but she closed her eyes, and turned her face away again. Janet went out and seated herself in the kitclio]i, with a picture of utter despond- ency. Just then, her husband came in. " Is anything the matter ?" asked he, anxiousl3\ *' No," said his wife, rousing herself. •' Only, I dinna ken weel what to do." " Is INIiss Graeme sick ? or is she asleep ?" " I hope she 's no' sick. I ken she 's no' sleeping. But she ought to be roused, and when I think what she 's to be roused to . Bat, if she wants to see her sister, it must be before before she 's laid in " A strong shudder passed over her. "Oh! man! it's awful, tLc first sight of a dear face in the cofiin " " Need she see her again ?"' asked Mr. Snow. ITJK" I , .; i JANKt's love and SEliVICK. 187 ken But I to be must Lee m I " Oil 1 yes, I douljt she iiiiist. And the bairns too, and it \vill soon be here, now." " Her father," suggested Mr. Snow. " lie has seen her. Ife was there for lioiirs, both yt-slcr- day and to-day. But lie is iisleep now, and he has need of rest. I eanna disturb him." "Couldn't you land of make her think sho was nerded — to her father or the little ones '? she would rouse herself if they needed her." " That 's weel said," said ]\rrs. Snow, f.Tatcfiilly. " (u) you down the brae for the bairns, and I '11 go and speak to hur agani. " Miss Graeme, my dear," said she, softly, " eould you speak to me a minute V" Her manner was quite ealiii. It was so like the maimer in which Cirraeme had been liuuih-eds of thnes sunnuoned to discuss domestic matters, that without seemiii;^'- to re- alize that there was anything peculiar in the time or cireum- stances, she opened her eyes and said, cpiictly. "Well, what is it, Janet?" " My dear, it is the bamis. There is nothing the matter with them," added she hastily, as Graeme started. " The_y have been down the brae with Emily tdl the da}', but they lU'c commg home now; and, my dear, they havena been ben yonder, and I think they should see her before — before she 's moved, and I duma like to disturb your father. IMy bami, are you able to rise and take Will, and wee Eosie ben yonder." Graeme raised herself slowly up. " Janet, I have been forgetting the l)airns.' Mrs. Snow had much ado to keep back her tears; but slio only said cheerfully : "My dear, you were weary, and they have had Emily." She would not be tender with her, or even help her much in her preparations ; though her hands trembled, and she touched things in a vague, uncertain way, as though she did not know what she was domg. Janet could not trust herself |i m III > iJ 188 JANKTS I.OVi: AND FKRVK.I'. to do what sLc woiild liko to have clone; she could only watch Lor without appearing to do ro, by no means .sm'o that she had done riglit in rousinnr her. She was ready at last. " Are tlioy come ? " asked Graeme, faintly. " No ; dear. There 's no haste, llest yourself a wee wliile. l\Iy dear, are yon sure you are quite aljlo for it?" added she, as Graeme rose. " Yes ; I tlihik so. But I would like to go alone, first." " My poor lamb! If I were but sure that I have been right,'' thought Janet, as she sat down to wait. An hour passed, and when the door opened, and Graeme came out agam, the fears of her faithful friend were set [it rest. " She hasna' been alone all this time, as I might have known," said Janet to herself, with a gTcat rnsh of hidden tears. " I 'm faithless, and sore beset myself whiles, but I needna fear for them. Tlic worst is over now."' And was the worst over ? After that was the covering of the beloved forever from their sight, and the return to the silent and empty home. There was the gatliering up of tho b . .a tlu'eads of their changed life; the falling back on ^""ibir old cares and pleasures, all so much the same, and yet so different. There was tlie vague unbelief in the reality of their soitow, the momentary forgctfulness, and then the pang of sudden remembrance, — the nightly dreams of her, tho daily waking to find her gone. By and by, came letters from the lads ; those of Norman and Harry full of bitter regi'ets, which to Graeme seemed almost like reproaches, that they had not been sent for before the end; and the gi'ief of those at home came back strong and fresh again. The coming of the " bonny spring days", for which Norman had so wished, wakened "vain longings for the dead," The brooks rose high, and the young leaves nistled on the elms ; and all pleasant sounds si)oke to them with Menie's voice. The flowers which she had planted, — the May-flower and the violets by the garden path, looked at them with Menie's /^ tho man The |ms ; )ice. the ie's JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE, 180 eyes. Tlic odor of tho Whicn by tho gate, and of tho pino trees ou the hill canio wilh that mysterious power to aAvakcn old associatioiiH, brmgmg back to Graemo tho moniory of tho tinio -when theyfirfit came to tho house on the hiU, when thev were all at home together, and Meiiio was a happy child. All thoso thin*^'s renewed their sorrow, but not Rhaqilyor bitterly. It was the soitow of chastened and resigned liearts, coniin;^ back with hopeful patience to tread the old pidhs of thcii' d'lily hfo, missing tho lost one, and always A\ith a scuso of waituig for tho time when they shall meet again, but quite content. And jMrs. Snow, watching both the minister and Ciraemc, " couldna be thankful enough" for what she saw. Jiut as tho weeks passed on there mingled with her thankfulness an anxiety v.hich she herself was uiclinedto resent. "As though tho Lord wasna bringing them through then* troul)les in a way that was just wonderful," she said to herself, many a time. At last, when the days passed into weeks, bringing no color to the cheeks, and no elasticity to the stej~) of CJraeme, she could not help letting her uneasiness be seen. " It 's her black dress that makes lier look so pale, ain't it? " said Mr. Snow, but liis face was gTavo, too. "I dare say that makes a difference, and she is tked to-day, too. She wearied herself taliiing tho llowers and things over yonder," said Mrs. Snow, glancing towards the spot where the white gi'avcstoncs gleamed out from the j^ale, j:;Tccn fohage of springtime. " Aiid no wonder. Even Emily was over tired, and hasna looked like herself since. I dare say I 'm troubling myself when there is no need." " The children, "Will, and Eosie, don't worry her with their lessons, do they? " *' I dinna ken. Sometimes I think they do. But she would weary far more without them. "\Vo must have patience. It would never do to vex the minister with fears for her." " No, it won't do to alarm him," said Mr. Snow, with em- phasis ; and he looked very gi'ave. In a httle ho opened his lips as if to say more, but seemed to change his mind. h 100 JAiiK'ra LuVK AND fcKUViCE. "It ain't '\\'orth wliilo to worry her ^v•itll it. I tlon't inoro than half boliovo it myself. Doctors don't know everythin<,'. It Kccms a.s tliou;^li it couldn't bo kg — and if it is so, it 'h best to keep still about it — for a s[)ell, anyhow." And INIr. Snow va«,'uely wished that Dr. Chittendon had not overtaken liini that afternoon, or tliat tliey had not talked so long and so gravely beneath the great elms. "And the doctor ain't given to talldng when ho had ought to keep still. Can't nothing be done for hiin ? 1 11 have a talk with the squire, anyhow." That nigiit Mr. and Mrs. Snow were startled l)y a mcssago from (jlraenie. Her father had l)een once or twieo before sharply and suddenly seized with illness. The doctor looked very grave this time, but seeing (iraome's pale, anxious face, ho could not find it in his heart to tell her that this was somethuig more than the indigestiim ^vllich it had been called — Severn Ijut not dangcnius. The Avorst was over for tliis < imo, and Clracmo would be better able to l)car a shock by and by. The minister was better, but his recovery was very slow — so slow, that for the first time during a ministry of thirty years, ho was two Sabbaths in succession unable to appear in his accustomed place in the pulpit. It was this which de- pressed him and made him grow so grave and silent, Graeme thought, as they sat together in the study as it began to grow dai'k. She roused herself to speak cheerfully, so as to ^nn him from the indulgence of his sad thoughts, "Shall I road to you, papa? You have hardly looked at the book tliat INIr. Snow brought. I am siu'c you will like it. Shall I road awhile." " Yes, if you hke ; by and by, when the lamp is lighted- There is no haste. I have been thinking as I sat here, Graeme — and I shall find no better time than this to speak of it to you — that — " Bat what he had been thinking Graeme was not to hear that night, for a hand was laid on the study door, and in an- swer to Graeme's invitation, Mr. and Mrs. Snow came in, at it. ■lear an- in, JANLt's r.oVK AND SHRVICK. 101 "just to SCO how the folk.s ''crc gfittinjjf aloiif*," said Mr. Snow, as Graeme ptiiTcd the lire into a blazo. But there was an other and a blotter reason for the vi.sit, as he amionneed rather ubrujjtly utter a httle. ' "They've been talkinf^ thing's over, down there to the vil* ar:^Gf and they *ve come to the eonchision that tliey 'd better Bend you ofT — for a siiell — most anywhere — so tliat you come back i'U<,'^n'd a;_;ain. Some say to tlie seaside, and some say to the nionntniuH, Imt / say to Canada. It 'h all fixed. There's no trouljlo about wjiys and means. It 's in j^old, to jave the discount," added h.', rising', and layin;^' on the table Bomethhip^ that jinj^led. "For tliey do say th('y are pretty considerable careful in lookinj,' at our bills, up tliere in Cana- da, and it is all the same to our folks, oold or paper," and ho sat down again, as though there was enough said, and then rose as if to go. (Jraeme was startled, and so was her father. "Sit down, deacon, and tell me more No, I 'm not going to thank you — you need not nm away. Tel] me how it hii\>- pcned." " They don't iliiuk papa so vory ill ? " said Graeme, alarmed. " Well — ho ain't so rugged as he might be — now is he ? " said Mr. Snow, seating himself. " But ho ain't so sick biit that he can go away a si;)ell, with you to take care of him — I don't suppose he 'd care about going by himself. And Mia' Snow, and me — we '11 take care of the children " " And what about this, deacon ? " asked IMi*. Elliott, laying his hand on the purse that Samjison had placed on the table. But Mr. Snow had little to say about it. If ho knew where the idea of the minister's holidays originated, he certainly did not succeed in makmg it clear to the minister and Graeme, j "But that matters little, as long as it is to be," said Mrs.' Snow, coming to the cioacon's relief. "And it has all been done in a good spirit, and in a proper and kindly manner, and fi'om the best of motives," added she, looking anxiously fi'om Graeme to her father. *• Yon need not be afraid, my kind fi'iends," said Mr. Elhott, pi: the Merlevillc folk," l:)cfore they were so well known to her. As for Graeme, her share m the business of preparation was by no means arduous. She was mostly at home \nt\i the bairns, or sharing the visits of her father to the people whom he Avished to see before he weiit away. It was some " Ime before AVill. and Eosie could be persuaded that it was r.^j^it for Graeme to leave then), and that it would be alto- j;'T)the»' delightful to live all the time au ~\b\ Snow's, and go to sciiool m the village — to the fine new high-school, which was one of the evidences of the increasing prosperity cf j\Ierleville. But they were entirely persuaded of it at last, and promised to become so learned, that Graeme should afterward have nothing to teach them. About the little ones, the elder sis- tor's heart was quite at rest. It was not the leavhig them V i Janet's love and skkvice. 195 <» alone, for they were to be in tlio keeping of iLc kind fiiend, who had eared for th(!m all their lives. Oraemo never cea«ed to remember those hnnDv diivcs 1. A v with her father, on his j^cutlo ministrations co the siek and Rorrowfiil of his Hock, in those days. She never thought of the cottage at the foot of the hill, l)nt she seomed to see tho suffering face of the widow Lovejoy, and her father's voice rejieating, •' (lod is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." Long afterwards, when tho laughter of little childi-en rose where the widow's groans had risen, Graeme could shut her eyes and see again tho suffeiing face — tho dooryard flowers, the gleaming of the sunlight on tlie pond — the very shadows of the mai^les on the grass. Thea it was her soiTowfxil delight to recall those happy hours of quiet converse, the half sad, huK joyful memories which her fatho loved to dwell upon — tlio fu'm and cntu'e tnist for tlie futuro of which his words assured her. Afterwards it came to her, that through all this pleasant time, her father was looking at a possi])ihty to which her eyes were shut. He had spoke of her mother as he had seldom spoken even to Graeme, of tho early days of their nsarried life — of all she had been to him, of all she hfid helped him to be and to do. And more than once he said, " You are like your mother, Graeme, in some things, but you have not her hopeful nature. You must be more hope- ful and com-ageous, my child." ITe spoke of Marian, Graeme remembered afterward.. Not as one speaks of tho dead — of those who are hidden from the sight, but as of one near at hand, whom lie v/as siu'e to meet agam. Of the lads far away, he always spoke as "yoiu* brothers, Graeme." He spoke hopefully, but a little anxiously, too. " For many a gallant bark goes down wlien its voyage is well nigh over ; and there is but one safe place of anchorage, and I know not whether they have all found it yet. Not that I am afraid of them. I Ijoiicve it A'iH be well with them I 196 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. at last. But in all tlio cuaugcs tLat may be boforo you, yon will have need of patience. You must bo patient with youi' brothers, Graeme ; and be faithful to them, love, and never let them wander imchecked from what is right, for your mother's sake and mine." He spoke of then' leaving home, and very thankfully of the blessings that had followed tliem since then ; of the kind- ness of ihe people, and his love to them ; and of the health and happiness of all the banns, " of whom one has got home before me, safely and soon." " We might have come here, love, had your mother lived. And yet, I do not know. The ties of home and country are strong, and there was much to keep us there. Her departui'O made all the rest easy for me, and I am quite convinced our coming was for the best. There is only one thing that I have wished, and I know it is a vain thing." Ho paused a moment. " or .'.ate I have sometimes thought — I lucan the thought has sometimes come to me unbidden — that I Avould like to rest beside her at last. But it is only a fancy. I know it Vv'ill make no difference in the end."' If Graeme grew pale and trembled as she hstened, it was with DO dread that she could name. If it was forced upon ]ier that th( time must come when her father must leave them, it ]ay in her thoughts, far away. She saw his grave rimly as a place of rest, when the labors of a long life should be ended ; she had no thought of change, or separation, or of ^ he blank that such a blessed dejDartui-e must leave. The peace which had taken possession of his mind had its influ- ence on hers, and she " fearca no evil." Afterwards, when the thought of this time and of these vrords came back she chid hersen" with impatience, and a strange wonder, that she should not have seen and under- stood all that was in his thought — forgetting in her fii'st agony Low much better was the blessed repose of these moments, than the knowledge of her coming sorrow could Inve made thein. 1^' J JANET S LOVE AND SEJiVICE. 10' ■\} They all passed the rides and visits and the happy talks together. The preparations for the jouniey vverc all mp.do. The good-byes vero said to all except to IVli's. Snow and Emily. The last night was come, and Graeme went round just as she always did, to close the doors and windows before she went to bed. She was thed, but not too tired to linger a httle while at the window, looking out upon the scene, now so familiar and so dear. The shadows of the elms lay dark on the lav.n, but the moonlight gleamed bright on the pond, and on the white houses of the village, and on the white stones in the graveyard, gi'own precious to them all aa Menie's resting-place. How peaceful it looked! Graeme thought of her sister's List days, and joyful hoj^c, and wondered vvhich of them all should first be called to he down by Menie's side. She thought of the graNC far away on the other side of the sea, where they had laid her mother with her baby on her breast ; but her thoughts were not all son'owful. She thought of the many happy days that had come to them since the time that earth had been left dark and desolate by their mother's death, and realized for the moment how tine it was. as her father had said to her, that God suffers no sorrow to fall on those who wait on Him, for wliich He does not also provide a biilm. " I v.'iU trust and not be afraid," she nuu'mm*ed. She thought of her brothers, and of the ha])py meeting that lay before tliom, but beyond tlicii- pleasant holiday she did not try to look ; but mused on till her D'^ishigs lost them- selves in slumber, and changed to di'cams. At least, she always thought she nuist have fallen asleep, and that it was the sudden calling of Iior name, that awak- ened her with a start. She did not hear it when she listened for it again. She did Jiot think of Kosie or A\'ill., Ijut went straight to her father's room. T-iu'ough the iiaii open door, she saw that the Ijed was undistiu'bed, and that her father sat in the arm-chair by the window. The lamp burned dimly on the table beside him, and on the floor lay an open book, as it had fallcTi from his liand. The moonlight shone W h , ? > > gfejai'fc--^^'-- 198 JANIT.S LOVE AXD SKR'^qCE. on Lis silver hair, and on bis tranquil face. There was a smile on liis lips, and liis eyes were closed, as if in sleep ; but even before she touched his cold hand, Graeme knew that from that sleep her father would never -vvaken more. (•HACTER XX. ever seem like hcno to tl on Thi, r"/ . '^°™'' ' ^'""" " the breezy hills of Merlevm; ^, ' ^""^' ''^^"""••^ ''™''»;,' ''""«o in a close oity s ''1 p " "'! "' " ■'■™-"- '--k -oulcl all keep t..oJJ •r;,:/''7'"<= ''•'"' «ai.l tl,,,t ,7 „, out of the wi„„o„ thai iiS l":!:' "' ''' '""""' '" '"<* «'-: ::l :;;5 ::jsr : -;% .-i, whic. «., ^.0 *„ be «een, lay only roofs aXlJ '5"^ '*' "" ''"'"^ '-"''' he v,e.. ,,,3 u,, ,,^„^ o,Jy r ,1 „^'""'". ""^ '-'■" al'ovo farther away, and liero and tw' Tw ''"'""'^^•■^ «t"'tcl.ed f"« y bough of a maple or el ow ,7'" """" ^''°"-^'' '^o bardy poplar, and, i„ the dL M , '''^""'^ *°i' "' " I-O".. » bn^'Lt streak, which tl 03 ," m^U T'/'^ ^"' «'»'-. % e^-anc river. On the othe/side to«Ldti ,'""" "'-^ ^any'^ looked out on a brick wall, over wl °1" " ''"^''' "'" ^'""-v shadnig half the street. Ti,o br '","°« '■«'''* "il low-boughs .be««r than the roofs and hi 2;) T' *'" "'''-- «-e >t was a dreary sort of be « e^ " ^'^:' ^"^« «"'>«ht ; but above were seen still thew^T""^. T ^™«'"^'« '■•«'.■" -all and between the wHIotoI r """' '"' "^-^ *''" a very pretty garden. It wL '1 ^ ' ^'^"° "^ " ^"■'^''"~ of a eu-eular bit of green masrh^ ^^^-^ ^all pa^-t «ome house, and around Thifan , f "'' '^°°' "^ a hand- -L^ere ^las a conservatory at 200 Janet's love and service. one end, but of that tliey saw nothing but a blinding glare when the 8un shone on it — many panes of glass when the Bun was gone. The garden seemed to extend behind the house ; hnt they could only see a smooth gi'avel walk with an edge of green. Clumps of evcrgi'cens and horse-chestnuts hid all the rest. Bat even these were very beautiful ; and this ghmpse of a rich man's garden, from an upper window, was the redeeming feature in their new home. For it was summer — the very prime of sunnner-time — and except for that little gUinpso of garden, and the dusty maple boughs, and the ragged tops of the jooplars, it might just as well have been winter. There was nothing to remind them of summer, but the air hanging over them hot and close, or sweeping in sudden dur laden gusts down the narrow streei Yes ; there was the long streak of blue, which Hany called the river, seen from the upj^cr window ; but it was only visible in sunny days, at least it only gleamed and sparkled then ; it was but a din\, grey lino at other times. How changed their life was ; how they drooped and pined for the sights and sounds and fi-iends of Merleville. " If there were but a green field in sight, or a single hill," said Eosie ; but she always added, " how nice it is to have the willow trees and the sight of the garden." For Rose was by no means sure that their longuig for green fields and hills and woods was not wrong. It seemed like ingi'atitude to Arthur, this pining for the country and their old home, and these young girls from the very first made a firm stand against the homesickness that came upon them. Not that homesickness is a sickness that can be cured by struggling against it ; but they tried hard to keej) the Imowledge of it from their brothers. Whatever happened durmg the long days, they had a pleasant breakfast-hour and a pleasant evening together. They seldom saw their brothers at other times during the first few months. Ilan-y's hours were long, and Ai-thur's business was increasing so as to requii-e close attention. This was a matter of much rejoicing to Gmeme, who did not know that all Ai'thur's business was c o in -.^••Ki^^l ^ jined til not strictly professional -tint it enough, and s„,uetin,e,, ImX^I^Z ??"''' "-""^omo necessary for that littlc'.s sake ^ "''' '"" ""^^lutely Graeme aiu] Ii„.sie wore ,,f 1. ^i- Ion. ana te.lions ofc tT r"',"'"' ""•^- f-""' "'« strove to ]„okntall tl,in..sfe ' , ' f "^' «°"««i<--"«ously For a while they were t^o „ ! T' ''■"'"' '■""'"-' ^i'J* o their domestic plans, to I^^^^ "^ rr"'^ '"' «"= ™-^«« when thn first arranff.ment i ^' '""""^iotness. But «M. of Graeme, aud^Sx ."^ '"f V"'"" "'<' '-'« -^ n>aid, Nelly Anderson had c1 l*; "'■""«"' "' '•'^i'- new •^;%W and pleasant 'a il'Tn ,V''""^ "'>"- "'^o - street, then came the 10,^1" a 7^, "'" '^'^ '" " <="y »me upon Gracn.o that^S t , '" ™''™'^^^- Then sl'e so earnestly set hor f .„ "' ^""' K«lieted, when M«e till t4 sun!; ei '« H^r "'°" "^'"^ '^•- f^Jed her. The reaction f om aU t, ''""""^ ^"■"=^'' •nent of the winter and spri,rcal T"°" """' ''^«i'«- was utterly prostrate. Sho ml, "^""' ''"' "°^' "'^'^ «J'« deed, she had no patience w^,. V ^™ "1' ^^"■^"fflj. In- B ate into which she Cfafe '"i"" '" «- ""*rablo alanned at her disinchnation t^' l"i ''"'^ """"""ed and fercncc to everything /^t 1° r '*''-"' ''^^■"'Jit "onie the evil only agtavld > T ™ '^' '"''''« *» over- Ijer power. Herlj; w ^o ' ' T- '°°" ^'"^ ""''^^ "^^yond l'; sofa. She eitl.erde,Zl w u? ""<"• I'dplemess on '•^ft.tl'em to be enterta"^ b^p:" '° *'-"• ^^ visitors, or sP-ts were needed for th c oS „,^',''"' «'-"«*'' -d at liomo. """g when her brothers were Some attention to household „ff • sa.7 even when the tin.e ct^ ^J "'^'^ t°""^'^ "<^-* d«e to do NeUy nodded for 1 ''""' °' something over the ]n.ittin„^ of a stS.g " fL"'*, "" /T "'^™°°- whatever could be accomplished 1 v "^'' ^^'"^ •=°"W do neeessa^-y for the a..ange«ent1f fhr'"" ''"'''^''' «'" ^^^B I't e household was no? i^ her Id a °"'*''^ °' '^«^ ao'te at rest as to the progress oftT""' ^"^ "^^^^ '«« piogresa of events in her dominion. «!*" 'i' . ^-iS 202 JANKt's love and SEKVICE. It was a very fortuimto chance that had cast her lot with theirs soon after their arrival, Graeme knew and acknowl- edged ; but after the hiindiness and immaculate neatness of Hannah Lovejoy, it was tii'esome to have nothing to fall back upon but the help of the imtaught Nelly. Her willing- ness and kind-heartedness made her, in many respects, in- /aluable to them ; but her field of action had hitherto been a tui*nip-field, or a field in which cows were kept ; and though Bhe was, by her own account, " just wonderfu' at the making of butter," she had not nuich skill at anytliing else. If it would have brought color to the cheek, or elasticity to the Btep of her young mistress, Nelly would gladly have carried ner every morning in her anns to the toj) of the mountain ; ]mt nothing would have induced her, during these first days, to undertake the r(\sp()nsil)ility of breakfast or dinner without Graeme's special overlooking. She would walk miles to do her a kmdness ; biit she could not step lightly or speak softly, or shut the door without a bang, and often caused her toi-ture when doing her very best to help or cheer her. But whatever happened through the day, for the evening Graeme exerted herself to seem well and cheerful. It was easy enough to do when Harry was at home, or when Arthm* was not too busy to read to them. Then she could stiU have the arm-ciiair or the sofa, and hear, or not hear, as the case might be. But when any eflbrt was necessary — when she must interest herself, or seem to interest herself in her work, or when Arthur brought any one home with him, making it necessary for Graeme to be hospitable and con- versational, tlien it was very bad indeed. She might get thi'ough very well at the time with it all, but a miserablo night was sure to follow, and she could only toss about through the slow hours exhausted yet sleepless. Oh, how miseraljle some of these sultry August nights were, when she lay helpless, her sick fancy changing into dear famihar sounds the hum that rose fi-om the city be- neath. Now it was the swift spring-time rush of Carson's brook, now the gentle ripple of the waters of the pond JAKKT's LO^■E AND Snuv.CK. gO'l breaking ou f|,„ ,vhi(„ ..ol.I.lo, o/ fl ■ , among ti,o wni,nv.b,,,,.I,,\vsno,, ,/''," ''™''''- ^''° ^"»" woopin. ,vheu there wasL; ^ T T"'' '"'" l"''^^''"'''" ««a™t the ,.,i.s:a,- that lay so ,■. ilv n! "\ "'"' ^'"■f.'«W ee-f..%. Health a,Kl .om-a J fol^l^ "'"" ■'^■'' '^'" "<>' «ua -ual found her a,s Khe ha,l "^ ^ !;'""", '",'""' ^^i- "..n before, l,.i„„ ii,t,,,,j ah.K.st 1 ,,,;?'' """" '" ^'"1 ber utmost effort to appei'welnn 7^ 'T^'"" ""^ «"'"• Her failed this o„ec. ' 's, r^" l'^! r^*'? f «'« -obt of them "^mast in.,necha(ol,, elo«h,«'-h ^fs t • h ?"",' ''"^'^ "°"- Graeme ! " cxolaiiued Hu-rv - V! '*'°''- /ace ! 3,001. , ere. I havo^tm:^i,„: ''^^f >-•' S„eh a -« .artled and l^a^^^^ '"'^ «- Her brother. be bet^^'r'nfl'S' : X^r^i 2" '^^'''^ ■'-™- S^^o „^ Poor, wee Rosio I H f "^ "'"'"'•" i"^ of G e. ,;„,,, r j'S-^jod a. the fasten- A.;thS:'rr " ""'' ^'- '^^ -^^ '''^« ss-. .. ,„, Boou be better, now." ^" '' ^'"^'^' '^'^ ^y^- She wUl •^tmrn i / 204 JANET'S LOVE AND SERVICE. nothing, kIio Biiid, nnd Arthur wuh not to bo frightenotl ; but thoroughly frightonccl Arthur ^VilS, laul iii a littlo whilo Griicmo found herself pliicod iu tho doctor'rt hands. It was a very kind, pleasant faco that beut over her, but it was a grave face too, at tho moment. When Clraemo repeated her assurance that sho was not ill, but only overcome with tho heat and weariness ; ho said these had somethhig to do with it, doubtless, and spoke cheerfully about her soon being well again ; and Arthur's face quite brightened, as ho left tho room with him. Hose followed them, and when her brother's hand was on the door, whispered, ** Please Arthur, may I say something to the doctor ? I think ^t is partly because Oraomc is homesick." '* Homesick?" repeated tho doctor and Arthur in a breath. "Perhaps not homesick exactly," said Pioso ; eagerly ad- dressing her brother. " She would not go back again you know ; but everything is so dillerent — no garden, no hills, no pond. And oh ! Arthur, don't bo vexed, but wo have no Janet nor anything hero." llosie made a brave stand against tho tears and sobs that were rising in spite of her, but she was fain to hido her face on her brother's arm as he drew her towards him, and sat down on tho sofa. Tho doctor sat down, too. "Why, Hosic ! My poor, wee Eosie ! what has happened to my merry littlo sister ? " " I thought the doctor ought to know, and you must not tell Graeme. She does not think that I know." " Know what ? " asked Artnur. •' That she is so sad, and that the time seems long. But I have watched her, and I know." " Well, I fear it is not a case for j'ou doctor," said Arthur, anxiously. But the doctor thought dilTerently. There was more the matter with Graeme than her sister knew, though the homo- sickness may have something to do with it ; and then he added, f but ,vlulo was /as a tl her 1 the with r well room hand . thuik ath. ly ad- iu you ) hills, avo uo s that ler faco iiid sat Ippencd .st not f But I Q'thur, )re the hoiiiG- lea he JANKT 8 LOVE AND BEKVICK. 205 " Her strcn^'th muHt have boon sovorely tried to bring hor tl) this Htatc of weakness." Arlliur licsitatcd a nioniont. "There was lonj^ illness in the family — and then death — my sister's first, and then my fathrrV. And th(^n I brou;^dit the i*CKt here." It was not easy for Arthur to say all this. In a little ho added with an effort, " I fear I have not done well in brinfjing them. But tli(^y tvished to come, and I eould not leave them." "You did right, I have no doubt," said the doctor. " Your sister might have been ill anywhere. She might have been worse without a change. The thing is to make her well agam — which, I trust, wo can soon do — with tiie help of jMiss Rosic, who will make a patient and cheerful nm*se, I am SUl'O." "Yes," said Rose, gi'avcly. "I will try." Arthur said something about taking them to the country, out of the dust and heat of the town. "Yes ;" said the doctor. " The heat is bad. But it will not last long now, and on the whole, I think she is better where she is, at present. There is no danger. She will soon be as well as usual, I think." But it was not veiy soon. Lideed, it was a long time before Graeme was as well as usual ; not until the leaves on the willows had grown withered and grey, and the summer had quite gone. Not until kmd Doctor McCulloch had come almost daily for many weeks — long enough for him to becomo much interested in both patient and nurse. A wonderful nurse Rose proved herself to. At first some- thing was said about introducing a more experienced person into Graeme's chamber, but both Rose and Nelly Anderson objected so decidedly to this, and aided and abetted one an- other so successfully in their opposition to it, that the design was given up on condition that Rosie kept well and cheerful to prove her claim to the title of nurse. She kept cheerful, I *ii 20C JANKTi* LOVI: AND SKUVICE. ti» but fuio ^TC'.v tall iind thin, iiiid a ^Toat deal too quiet to bo lik(j licr.-iclf, licr brothoi'H thou;j:lit ; ho wliatover was forj^'ottcii or no^dccicd diuiiifjf tin; day, liosio muHt ^o out with one of Ihcni for a luiiij walk wliilc the other Ht:iid with (Iraciuo, and by tluH iiKsins tho luMiUh and spirits of tho anxious litth; lady Wcro kepi fioiii failiii;^^ alto;^('ihcr. 1m )r indi-ed tho Ion;,' days and ni^^'iils nii;,'!it well ho tryin*^ tj tho child, who had never needed to think twice; about her own comfort all her life, and who wa« now quite too a-utoly h visible, h )W much tho com- fort of all the rest depended upon her. But .she boro the trial well, and indeed came to the (lonelusion, that it was quite as i^lf^asant to be made useful, to bo trusted and cou- Hultod, juid dejjonded upon, as to be petted aner- ever the ugly briek walls had be(>n replaced by the pretty iron railings, with which every gcx^l rich man will surround his gardens, in order that they who have no gardens of tlieii* own may have a chance to see something beaut ifid too. And whenever she came to an open gah', the pause was lon«,'. She v/as in danger then of forgctthig her womanliness and her gravity, and of exclaiming like a little girl, and sometimes she forgot herself so far as to let her feet advance farther up the gravel walk than in her sober moments she would have considered advisable. One bright morning, as she returned home, she found her- self standing before the largo house ou the other side of the street For the first time she f(jund the large gate \vide open. Tiierc was no one in sight, and taking two st(;ps for* ward, Rose saw more of the pretty garden within than she had ever scon bcf(jre. She had often been tempted to walk round the smooth broad walks of». other gardens, but sec;)n/ thoughts had always prevented her. This time she did nol wait f(jr second thoughts, but deliberately determined to wall; round the carnage way without leave asked or given. Tlie garden belonged to ]\Ir. Elpliinstone, a gi-eat man — ;it least a great merchant in the eyes of the world. One of Rose's amusements during the time she was confined in her sister's sick room was to watch the comings and goings of 111 m ' ^'< ti '^^ Hi t!!'i fi ' l! a V 208 JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. his only child, a girl only a little older than Rose herself. Sometimes she was in a little pony carriage, which she drove herself ; son:etimos she was in a large carriage driven by a grave-looking coachman w'ta a very glossy hat and verj' white gloves, liosie used to envy her a little when she saw her walking about in the garden gathering the flowers at her own will. } " How happy she must be !" she thought now, as she stood gazing about her. "If she is a nice young lady, as I am almost sure she is, she would rather Llitit I enjoyed her flow* crs than not. A*- any rate I am going to walk round just once — and then go." Bat it was not an easy matter to get round the circle. It vvas not L very large one, but there were flowers aU round it, and Rcsie passed slowly on lost in wonder and deUght, as some strange blossom presented itself. It took a long time to pass quite round, and before this was accompHshed, her footsteps were arrested by a splendid cardinal flower, that grew within the shr-dow of the wall. It was not quite a stranger. She had gathered a species of it often in the low bnjiks of the pond ; and as she bent over it with dehght, a voice startled her — " You should have seen it a while ago. It is past its best now." Rose turning saw the gardener, and hastily stammering an excuse, prepared to go. But he did not seem to understand that she was an intruder. " If you '11 come round this way 1 11 show you flowers that are worth looking at," said he. " He thinks I am a visitor," said Rose to herself. '* I 'm sure I admire his flowers as much as any of tliem can do. It won't trouble him much to show them to me, and I 'U just go with him." So picking up her bonnet that had fallen on the walk, she followed him, a little frightened at her own boldness, but very much elate. She did not think the garden grew pret- tier as they went on, and her conductor hurried her past a Ibhat 'm do. Ijust she but Iret- Ist a JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. 20'J great many pretty squares and cii'cles without givmg her time to admire them. He stopped at last before a long, narrow bed, where the flowers were growing without regard to regu- larity {IS to arrangement ; but oh ! such coloiing ! such depth and richness ! AVhat verbenas and heliotropes ! — what pm*- pies — crunsons — scarlets ! Rose could only gaze and won- der and exclaim, while her friend hstened, and was evidently w^oll pleased with her dehght. At last it was time to go, and Rose sighed an she said it. But she thanked him with sparkling eyes for his kindness, and added deprecatmgly — *' I am not a visitor here. I saw the gate open and came in. I couldn't help it." It was a small matter to her new fi'iend whether she were a visitor at the great house or not. "You ken a flower when you see it," said he, " and that '.'J more than can be said of some of the visitors h<^re." He led the way round the garden till they came to a sum- mer-house covered with a flowering vine, which was like noth- ing ever Rose had seen before. "It was just hke what a bower ought to be," she lold Graeme, afterwards. " It was just hke a lady's bower in a book." There was a httle mound before it, upon which and in the borders close by grew a great many flowers. Not rare flow- ers, such as she had just boon admiring, but flowers sweet and common, pansies and thyme, sweet peas and mignonette. It was Miss Elphinstone's ovai bower, the gardener s^.id, and these were her favorite flowers. Rose bent over a pale Jittle blossom near the path — " Wliat is this ?" apked she ; and then she was sony, fear- ing to have it spofled by some long unpronounceable name. "Sm'ely you have seen that — and you from Scotland? That's a gowan." "A gowan !" She was on her knees beside it in a moment. " la it the real gowan^ ' that ghnts on bank and brae ' ? No j I never saw one ; ,u,t least I don't remember. I was only a ^.m i 'i. ■ ^4 r^ 210 JANKT B LOVE AND Si:iiVICE. child whcD I came away. Oh ! hov/ Graomo woiikl like to SCO thoni. Aiid I must tell Janet. A real gowaii ! * Wee, modest, crimson-tii:)ped Hower' — you iiiuid? And licro is a white one, * AVith silver crest and golden ey(i.' Oh ! if Graeme could only see them ! Give me just one for mj sister who is ill. >S)ie has gathered them on the braes at tome." " Alicm ! I don't know," said her friend, in a changed voice. "These are Miss Elphuistone's own ilowers. I wouldna just lilio to meddle with them. But you can ask her your- self." Rose turned. The pretty young lady of the p -ny-carri- agc, wafe' standing beside her. Hose's confusion was too deep for words. She felt for a minute as though she must run away, but thought better of it, and murmured s6metliing about the flowers being so beautiful, and about not wishing to mtrudc. The young lady's ans^Yer was to stoop down and gather a handful of flowers, go wans, sweet peas, violets and mignonette. When she gave them into Rose's hand she asked, "Is your sister .cry ill? I have seen the doctor going often to vQur house." " She is getting better now. She has been very ill. The doci*3r says she will soon bo well." " And have you taken care of her all the time ? Is there no one else ?" "I h'ive taken care of her, NeDy iUiderson and I, all the day, and our brothers are home at night." "I am glad she is getting better. Is she fond of flowers Mr. Stii'liiig is tliinking I have n't an*anged mine nicely, but you can do that when you put them in water, 30U know.*' "Oh! thank you. They are beautiful. Yes, (iraeme is veiy fond of flowers. This wiU be like a bit of summer to her, real summer in the country, I mean. And btisides, she has gathered gowans on the braes at home." " I am a Cimadian," said the young lady. " I /lever saw the ' gowany braes,' but I shall see thcra soon." t le 10 ut 13 I to 16 VVt Mis.i i;i,i'iii.\.sruN!: gives Rosiii somt^ f low ess.—/, su Janet's love akd service. 211 They liacl roacliod the gate by this time. " Como again, soon. Come into the garden, whenever you like. I am siu'c Mr. Stii'Hng will Hko to show you hia flowers, you are so fond of tliem. I think a few of his would improve your bouquet." Mr. Stirhng touched his hat to his young lady. " I shall be proud to show the flowers to Miss Rose, and I shall have the honor of making her a bouquet soon." The young lady laughed. " You are to be a favorite. Is your name Rose," added she, hngering by the gate. " Yes, Rose EUiott. I am the youngest. We all live over there, my brothers, and Graeme and I. It would be a dreary place, if it were not for tbc glimj^se we g(3t of your gar- den. Look, there is Nelly looking for me. I am afi'aid I have hindered Ai*tliiu\ Thank you ver}' much, and good-bye." Ro.ge shyly put forth her hand. The young lady took it in both hers, and di'awing her within the gate again, kissed her softly, and let her go. "Stirlmg," said she, as she tiuiicd toward the house, " how did you know the young lady's name is Rose ? is she a friend of yours ? Do you know her ?" " I know her face, that is all. I have seen her for hours together, looking in on the garden from that upper window. And whiles she looks through the gate. I heard her broth- ers calling her Rose. She 's a bonny lassie, and kens a flow- er when she sees it." That night, Nelly was startled into a momentary forgotful- ness of her thick shoes, and her good manners, and came iTishing into Graeme's room, where they were all sitting after tea, bearing a bouquet, which a man, " mayljc a gentleman," Nelly seemed in doubt, had sent in with his compliments to Miss Rose EUiott. A bou(|uct ! it would have won the jirize at any floral exhibition in the land, and never after that, while the autumn frosts spared them, were they without flow- ers. Even when the autumn beauties hung slu:ivclled and black on their stems, and afterwai'ds, when the snows of ' ^ll att rr"^ "3rT 212 Janet's love and service. f winter lay many feet above the pretty garden beds, many a rare liot-liouse blossom brightened the httle parlor, where by that time Graeme was able to appear. "For," said Mr. Stirling, to the achnkmg Nelly, "such were IVIiss Elphinstone's directions befoye she went away, and besides, directions or no directions, the flowers are well bestowed on folk that take real pleasure in their beauty." The autumn and winter passed pleasantly away. As Graeme grew strong, she grew content. The cliildren were well and happy, and Arthur's business was jiros- pering in a wonderful way, and all anxiety about ways and means, might be i^ut aside for the present. They often heard fi'om Norman, and from theu* friends in Merleville, and Graeme felt that with so much to make her thankful and happy, it would be ungi-atcful indeed to bo otherwise. In the spring, they removed to another house. It was in town, but compared with the only one they had left, it seemed to be quite in the country. For the street was not closely built up, and it stood in the middle of a httle garden, which soon be- came beautiful under the transforming hand* of Rose and her brothers. There was a green field behind the house too, and the beautiful mountam was jjlainly visible from it; and half an hour's walk could take them to more than one place, where there was not a house to be seen. The house itself, seemed hke a palace, after the narrow brick one they had just left. It was larger than they needed, Graeme thought, and the rent was higher than they could well afford, but the garden was enough to content them ^vith everything else. It was a source of health, if not of wealth, to them all, and a never failmg source of delight besides. Their new home was quite away fi'om Mr. Stirling's end of town, but he found Hme to come and look at then* garden every week or two, and his gifts of roots, and seeds, and good advice were invalua- ble. This was a short and pleasant summer to them aU. It is wonderful how much pleasure can be made out of the quiet everyday duties of life, by young and happy people on JANEl's LOVE AND 6ERVICM. 218 the watch for 2>loasant things. To Will, and Rosio everj-ihing ^Yas delightful. The caWy niarkctiiig with Nelly, to which Gracino and Arthiu', and sometimes even Harry was be- guiled, never lost its chann for them. I Tarry had lived in town, long enough, to permit himself to be a little scornful of tuo pleasui'c which the rest took, in wandering up and down among the vegetables and fruits, and other wares in the gi'eat market, and made himself merry over liosie's penchant for making acquaintance with the old French woman and lit- tle childi'cn whom they met. He mystified Rose and he! friends by his free mterpretation of both French and English, and made the rest merry too ; so it was generally considered a gi'eat thing when he could be induced to rise early enough to go with them. Sometimes they went in the early boats to the other side of the river, a pleasure to be scorned by none on lovely sum- mer mornings ; and they would retiu'n home with appetites I'eady to do honor to the efforts of Nelly and IMiss Beecher. Sometimes when a hohday came, it was spent by the whole fcimily, Neljbf and all, at Lachme or the Back River, or on the top of tae moimtain. All this may seem stupid enough to them ■who are in tjie hal)it of searching long, and going far for pleasure, but,"Vi&th the help of books and pencils', and hvely conversation, the Elliotts were able to find a great deal of enjoyment at such holiday times. They had pleasures of another kind, too. Arthur's tempo- rary connection wdth one of the city newspapers, placed at their disposal magazines, and a new book now and then, as well as tickets for lectures and concerts, and there was seldom a treat of the kind but was highly enjoyed by one or other of them. They had not many accpiaintanccs at this time. In Janet's estimation, the averseness of Graeme to biing herself in con- tact with strangers, had been a serious defect in her charac- ter. It was easier to avoid this in the town than it used to bo in the country, Graeme found. Residue, she had no longer the sense of parish res'^onsibilities as a ministei'V JL^ ■)p(" 214 Janet's love and skuvicb. I M ' ^ daughter, and was inclined for quietness. Once or twice slid made a great effort, and went with an acquaintance to tho ** sewing meetings " of the hidics of the churcli which thoy attended ; hut it cost her a great deal of self-denial to very little purpose, it seemed to her, and so she compromised tho matter with her conscience, hy working for, and hriiig very kind indeed to, a family of little motherless girls who livi.'d in a lane near their house, and staid at homo. She was by no means sure that she did right. For everybody knows, or ought to know, how praiseworthy is the self-denial which i^ willing to give up an afternoon every week, or every second week, to the making of pincushions, and tho netting of tidies, which are afterwards to appear in the form of ciii'tains or pulpit covers, or organs, or perhaps in the form of gar- ments for those who liavo none. But then, though the *' sewing-circle " is the generally approved and orthodox outlet for the benevolent feelings and efforts of those dear iadies who love, to do good, but who are ajit to be bored by Motherless little gu-ls, and other poor j)eople, who live in gaiTets, and out of the way places, difficult of access, it is just possible that direct efforts in their behalf may be accepted too. One thing is certain, though Graeme did not find it easy for awhile to satisfy herself as to tho " moral quahty " of the motive which kept her at home, the little Finlays were all the happier and better for the time she conscientiously bestowed on them and their affairs. They made some acquaintances that summer, and very pleasant ones, too. Arthur used sonietinios to bring home to their six o'clock dinner, a friend or two of his — cHenta from the country, or a young lawj-er, or lawyer's clerk, to Vhom the remembrance of liis own first lonely days in tho i^.ty made Imn wish to show kindness. There were two or £iree gay French lads of the latter class who, strange to say, jad taken a great liking to the grave and steady Arthur, tnd who often came to pass an evening at his pleasant fire- side. Graeme was shy of them for awhile, not being clear as to liie principles and practice of the French as a people, Janet's love and seuvice. 21 ri and fts for Rose, tlio very sight of these polite monatached gontlcmon suggested historical names and events \vhich it was not at all eomfortablo to think about. But these light- hearted Canadian lads soon proved themselves to be as worthy of esteem as thougli English had been their mother tongue. Very agreeable visitors they were, with their nieo gentlemanly manners, their good humor, and their music ; and far better subjects for th exercise of Ilosie's French than the old market women were, and in a little while they never came but they were kindly welcomed. This was a busy time, too. Grae no taught Ilosio English, and they studied together French and German, and music ; and were in a fair way, Hany dechxred, of becoming a pair of very learned ladies indeed. Very busy and happy ladies they were, which was a matter of greater importance. And if sometimes it came into Graeme's mind, that the life they were living Avas too pleasant to last, the thought did not make her unliapi:)y, but humble and watchful, lest that wliicli was pleasant in their lot should make them forgetful of life's true end. !,■■■■■ h. ill. f li r •f- CHAPTER XXI. ii XT is just thi'co years to-nij,'ht since ^vc c.uac to M. Did you remember it, Arthur ? " said (fracinc, loi^liiii (f o up from her work. " Is it possible that it can be three years ? " said Arthur, in sm'prise. "It has been a very hapi)y tune," said Graciiio. Rose left her book and came and seated herself on the arm of her brother's chair. Arthur took the cigar from his lips, and gently puffed the smoke into hi;; sister's face. Rose did not heed it. " Three years ! " repeated she. *' I was quite a cliild then." The others laughed, but Rose went on without heeding. " It rained that iii.^ht, and then we had a great jnauy hot, dusty days. How well I remember the time ! Graeme was iU and homesick, and wo wished so much for Janet." " That was only at firs^, till you proved youi'self such a Vsronderful nurse and housekeeper," said Graeme; "and you were not at all homesick yourself, I suppose ? " " Perhaps just a httle at lirst, in those hot, dreary -^iiiys," said Rose, gi-avely ; "but I was not homesick very ioug. " " I am afraid there were a good many dreary days al)out that tune — more than you let me know about," saiil Arthmv Graeme smiled and shook her head. " I am afraid you had a good many anxious days a))out that time. If I had loiov.n how hard you would have to work, I think I would have staid in Merleville after all." "Pooh! Nonsense! Hard work is wholesome. And at I '. .IANKT8 LOVE AND BKRVICE. Jil7 g- hot, [ll)OUt :ihur, a)30ut Ivo to > lid at the very worHt time, \vhat Nvitli one thing and another, vio had a larger incomo than my father had m Merloville." *' But that was (inito (hlferent — " " Did I tell you that I have got a new client? I haves done bushicHs for i\Ir. Stone before, but to-djiy it wuh intimated to mo, that henceforth I am to be the legal adviser of the jiros- per(3u.s firm of HJrovo «& Stone.' It will add something to oui' income, little ^voman." Bose clapped her hands, and stooping do^vn, whispcroil sonu.'tlmig in her brother's car. "Don't be planning any extravagance, you two, on the strength of 'Grove & Stone.' You know any superfluous ■wealth wo may have, is already appropriated," said Graeme. " To the Merloville visit. . But this is not at all an extrava- gance, is it, Arthur ? " said Rose. " That depends . I am afi'aid Graeme is tho best judge. But we won't tell her to-night. A\'e must break the matter to her gently," said Arthur. " Graeme is so dreadfully prudent," sighed Rose. Graeme laughed. " It is well there is one prudent one among us." " I don't believe she would at all approve of your smoldng another cigar, for instance. They are nicer than usual, arc they not ? " said Rose, inhahng the fragrance fi'om her bro- ther's case. "Yes. I treated myself to a few of the very best, on the strength of Grove Sc Stone. They arc very nice. Have one ? ** Rose took it with gi'cat gravity. "Suppose wo take a httle walk fii'st, and smoko after- wai'ds," said she, coaxingly. Arthur made a grimace. "And where will you beguile me to, when you get mo fair- ly out ? " " There is no tclhng, indeed," said Ro^c. " Graeme, I am going to put on my new hat. AVhen Mr. Elhott honors us with hia company, we nuist look oiu* very best, you know." It 218 Janet's love and simivice. <( But, Arthur, you havo an ongagcmoiit to-night. Don't yju romombor ? " hhIuh] Ciracino. "To Mrs. JJ.irnes," Hiiid Uoho. "Miss Crossly brouglit homo my droRS to-day, and kUo told mo all about it. Ilor Bistor is nurso tlioro. Tho party is to bo quito a splendid ftd'air. It is givon in honor of Miss Grovo, who has just conic homo. I wish I were going with you." *'luu may go witlumt mo. I ^Yill givo you my invitation. It is a great boro, and I don't bcliovo I shall go. I don't seo tho good of it." "But you promised," Kaid Graeme. '* AVuU, I suppose I must go for a while. But it is very stupid." " Just as if you could make us believe that. It must bo delightful. I think it's vciy stu^jid of you and Graeme, not to like parties." " You forget. I was not asked," said Graeme. *' But you might have been, if you had returned Mrs. Barnes* call soon enough. How nice it would havo been ! I wish I were INIiss Grove, to have a party given for me. She is a beauty, they say. You must notice her dress, Ai'thur, and tell mo all about it." " Oh ! certainly," said Arthur, gravely. " 1 11 take particu- lar notice. But come, get your hats. There is time enough for a walk before I go. Haste, Ilosie, before tho finest T tho evcnhig is past. Are you coming, "Will. ? Man ! you shouldna read by that light. You will blind yourself. Put away your book, you '11 be all the better for a walk." They lingered a moment at the gate. " Here is Harry 1 " ex(^laiined Rose. " And some one vdit hun. Cliarlie Millar, I think." " We will wait for them," said Ai'thiu*. The look that came to Graeme's face, as she stood w^atching her brother's coming, told that the shadow of a new care was brooding over her, and the light talk of her brother and sis- ter told that it was one they did not see. She stood bat^k a ;*v. img Iwas sis- ^h a JAN'KT'ri LOVE AND SEltVlCE. 219 littlo, while tlioy cxchaiifjcd gi'cotings, and looked at Ilan-y ^vith anxiouH oyos. "Arc you going out, Graomo?" asked ho, coming within the gate. " Only to walk. M'ill you go with us ? Or shall I stay ? " "Miss lllliott," hitcrposcd CliarUe ISIillar, "I hog you will not. I le does n't desei'vo it at your hands. Ho is as cross as possihlc. Besides, we aregouig to D. street, hy invitation, to meet the new partner. He eamo yesterday. Did Harry teUyou?" " Harry did not come homo last night. "What kept you, Harry?" asked lloso. "We were kept till a most mireasonablo hour, and Han*y staid with me last night," said CharHe. *• And of com'so Graeme staid up till all hours of the night, waiting for me," said Harry, with aii echo of impatience in his voice. " Of course she did no such foolish thing. I saw tt) that," said Arthur. " But which is it to be ? A walk', or a quiet visit at home ? " "Oh! a walk, by all means," said Charlie ^lillar. " I have a great mind not to go," said Harry. " Nonsense, man ! One would think you were about to re- ceive the reward of your evil deeds. I refer to you, IVIiss Elliott. "Would it be respectful to the new firm, if ho were to refuse to go ? "' " Bother the new firm," said Harry, impatiently. " The new partner, you mean. He has taken a most un- reasonable dislike to my brother at first sight — calls hira proud, and a snob, because he happens to be shy and awk- ward with strangers." " Shy ! A six-footer, with a beard enough for thi-ec. After that I '11 vanish," said Hany. *• I don't think Harry is very polite," said Rose. " Never mind. There are better things in the world thim poUteness. Ho will be more reasonable by and by," said Harry's friend. i; h .■I -^ . i I I : ■ 220 Janet's love aisd service. " So yoiu' brother 1ms coiiio," said Grtacmo. " How long *f it since you have seen liiin?" " Oh ! not for ten years. He v/as home once after he came out hero, but I wns away at school, and did not see him. I remembered liim quite well, however. He is not ^spoiled by his wanderings, as my mother used to fear he might be ; " then he added, as Harry reappeared, '* the fact is, Miss Elliott, he expected to be asked to dinner. "VVe must overlook his ill- temper." "By all means," said Graeme, laughing. " Thank you," said Hariy. *' And I '11 try to be patient." "Well, shall Ave go now? " Siiid Ai-thur, who had been waiting patiently thi'ough it all. The others followed him andWdl. "Is your brother going to remain here?" asked Graeme. " That will be nice for you." *• Yes, on some accounts it would be nice. But if they send KaiTy off to fill his place at the West, I shall not like that, mibss, indeed, they send us both. And I am not sure I should like that long." " Send Harry ! " exclaimed Graeme. '' Nonsense, Graeme ! " said Harrj^ " That is some of <:)harlie's stuff." " I hope so ; but we '11 see," said Cliarhe. " Miss EUiott, I had a letter fi-om my mother to-day." The lad's eyes soft- ened, as he turned them on Graeme. " Have you ? " said Graeme, turning away from her own thoughts to interest herself in his pleasiu'c. " Is she quite well ?*' " Yes, she is much better than she was, and. Miss Elliott, she sends her love to you, and her best thanks." " For what ? " said Graeme, smiling. " Oh ! you know quite well for what. What should I have ilone, if it bad not been for you and Harry? I mean if you nad not let me come to your house sometimes." "Stuff'!" said Harry. " Truth !" said Charlie. " I never shall forget the misery of my first months, till Hariy came into our office. It has JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. 221 of own lliott, have you [isery has >3en quite tliiToroiit since the niglit he brought me to your house, and }ou were so kind as to ask me to come afjain." "That was no great sclf-dcniai on our part," said Graeme, BmiHng. " Yod minded Graeme on some one she used to laiow long ago," said Iloso. " And, besides, you are from Scotland." Both lads laughed. " And Graeme feels a motherl}'^ interest in all Scottish lad- dies, howevei anworthy they may ])e,'' said Harry. And so tliey rambled on about many things, till they came to the gate of Mr. Elphinstone's garden, beyond which Arthur and Will, were loitering. " How i)retty the garden is ! " said Rose. " Look, Graeme, at ihat Httle gii'l in the window. I wonder whether the flowers give her as much jileasure, as they used to give me." " I am afraid she does not get so many of them as you used to get," said Graeme. "Come in and let me gather you some," said Charlie. " No, indeed. I should not venture. Though I went in the first time without an invitation. And you dare not pick ]\Ir. Stirling's tiowers." "Dare T not? " said Charlie, reaching up to gather a large spray from a climbing rose, thut reached high above the wall. " Oh ! don't. Oh ! thank vou," said Rose. As far down as tliey could see for the evergreens and horse- chestnuts a white dress gleamed, and close beside the little feet that peeped out beneath it, a pair of shining boi Ls crushed the gi'avel. " Look," said Rose, di*awing back. " The new partner," said Harry, with a whistle. "A double partnership — eh, Charlie ? " " I shouldn't wonder," said Charlie, looking wise. " He knows what he's about, that brother of yours. He's cute. He knows a thing or two, I guess." " Harry," said Rose, gi'avely, " don't talk slang. And I don't think it very polite to speak that way to Mr. Millar about his brother." 11 ' It] 222 ! 'I !1 JANET 8 LOVE A^•D SERVICE. ) " My dear llosie, I am not talking slang, but the pure American language ; and I think you are more considerate about other people's brothers than you are of your o^vn. Twice tliis night I have heard youi* brother called cross and distigr^al)le, without rebuke." " You deserved it," said Rose, laughing. " Miss Rose," said Charhc, "let your smile beam on him for one moment, and he can't look cross for the rest of the evenmg. Rose tuiT.cd her laughing face to her brother. "Be a good boy, Harry. Good bye." As they returned. Will, and Rose went on before, while Graeme lingered with Ai-thur. " Did you heai' what Mr. Millar said about the possibility of IlaiTy's being sent West ? It must be to take the new partner's place, I suppose," said Graeme, after a Httle. " No ; Cii(\ he say so ? It would be a capital good thing for Harry." *' Do you think so ? He would have to leave home." " Yes ; that would be a pity, of course ; but the opening for him would be a very good one. I doubt whether there is much in it, however. Harry has been for so short a time in the employment of the firm, and he is very young for a place so responsible. Still, it may be. I know they have great confidence in hun." There was a i:)ausc, and they walked slowly on. "Arthur," said Graeme, in a low voice. "Do you think Harry is — quite steady ? " " Stead}'," repeated Arthur, in a surprised and shocked tone. " Why should you doubt it ? " Graeme strove to speak quietly, but her hand trembled on her brother's arm, and he knew^ it cost her an effort. " I dare say there is no cause for doubt. Still, I thought I ought to speak to you. You will know better than I ; and, you must not think that I am unkind m speaking thus about Harry." "You unkind! No; I should think two or three thmgs J^VNET'8 LOVE AND SERVICE. 223 tliought that. Bat tell me why you have any before I fears?" " You laiow, Ai-thm*, Harry has been veiy late in coming home, a good many times lately; and sometimes he has not com.^ at all. And once or twice — more indeed — ho has been excited, more than excited — and — " Graeme could not go on. " Still, Graeme, I do not think there is any real cause for apprehension. He is young and fuU of spiiit, and liis society is sought after — too much for his good, I dare say. But he has too much sense to give us any real cause for imeasiness on that ground. Why, Graeme, in P. street Hany is thought much of for liis sense and talent." Graeme sighed. There came ii>to her mind something that her father had once said, about gallant ships being wrecked at last. But she did not speak. " Shall I speak to him, Graeme ? AVhat would you Uke me to do ? I don't think there is nmcli to fear for him." " Well, I wiU tliink so, too. No ; don't speak to him yet. It was hearing that he might be sent away, that made mo speak to-night. I dare say I am foohsh." They walked on in silence for a little, and then Graeme said, " I hope it is only that I am foolish. But we have been so happy lately ; and I mind, papa and Janet both said to me — it was just when we were Ijeginning to fear for Menie — that just as soon as people were beginning to settle down content, some change would come. It proved so then." "Yes ; I suppose so," said iVrthur, with a sigh. "We must expect changes ; and scarcely any change would be for the better as flir as we are concerned. But, Graeme, we must not allow ourselves to become fanciful. And I am quite sm-e that after all your care for Harry, and for us all, you will not have to suffer on his account. That would be too sad." They said no more till they overtook the cluldren,— as Iloso and Will, were still called in this hapjiy household. *' I have fv good mind not to go, after all. I would much Hf P < \ > ^i v__^ r am 224 Janet's lovk and servick. ratlior stay quietly at homo," said Arthur, sitting down on the f:^tO|\S. " l.?at you promised," fiaid Oracmo. "You must go. I will get a hght, and you need not stay long." " You must go, of coiu'se," said liosc. " And Graeme and I will have a nice quiet evening. I am going to practise the new music you Ijrought homo." " A qiiiet evening," said Will. "Yes; I hnve rather neglected my music of late, and other things, too. I 'm sure, I don't know w^herc the time goes to. I. wish I were going with you, Arthui'." " You are far better at home." " Yes, mdeed," said Graeme ; and ^V^iIl. added, " A child like Rosie ! " " Well, bo sure and look well at all the di'e.sscs, especially Miss Grove's, and tell mo all about them." " Yes ; especially Miss Grove, if I get a glimpse of her in the crowd, which is doubtful." " Well, good night," said Rose. " I don't beHevo there will be a gentleman there to compare to you." Arthur bowed low. " I suppose I ought to say there will be no one there to compare with you. And I would, if I could conscientiously. But ' fine feathers make fine birds,' and Miss Grove aspires to be a belle it seems, — and many who don't aspu-e to such distmction, will, with the \\ii\\) of the di'ossmaker, eclipce the httle Scottish Rose of our garden. Good night to you all — and Graeme, mind you are not to sit up for me j)ast your usual time." He went awaj'', leaving Rose to her practising. Will, to his books, and Graeme to pace up and do^vn the gallery in the moonlight, and think her o^vn thoughts. They were not very sad thoughts, though Arthur feared they might be. Her brother's astonishment at her fears for Harry, had done much to reassure her with regard to him ; for sui'ely, if there were danger for Harry, Arthur would see it ; and she began to be indignant with herself for having spoken at all. J.VNET S LOVE AND SEIiTICK. 225 " Artliur will think I am foolish. Ho will think that I have lost confidence in Harrv, whic^h is not true. I wish I were more hopeful. I wish I did not take fi'i^'ht at the veiy first shadow. Janet aye said that the first gloom of the cloud troubled me more than the fallinpf of the shower should do. Such folly to suppose that anything could happen to our Harry ! I won't think about it. And even if Harry has to go away, I will believe with iVi-thur, that will bo for the best. Ho will be near Norman, at am- rate, and thtit will be a great fleal. Norman will be glad. And I will not fear changes. Why should I ? They cannot come to us unsont. I will trust in God." But quite apart from the thought of Harry's temptation or prospects, there was in Graeme's heart a sense of pain. She was not quite satisfied in looking back over these pleasant years. She feared she had been beginning to settle down content with their pleasant hfo, forgetting higher things. Except the thought about Hany, which had come and gone, an*'' come again a goo'"* many times within the last few montli:j, vhere had scarcely been a trouble in theu' life during these two years and more. She had almost forgotten how it would seem, to waken each morning to the knowledge that painful, self-denying duties lay before her. Even household care, Nelly's skill and w'll, had put far from her. And now as she thought about all of this, it came into her mind how her father and Janet had always spoken of life as a warfare — a struggle, and the Bible so spoke of it, too. She thought of Janet's long years of self-denial, her toils, her dis- appointments ; and how she had always accepted her lot as no uncommon one, but as appomted to her by God. She thought of her father — how, even in the most tranquil times of his life — the time she could remember best, the peaceful years in MerleviUe, he had given Inmself no rest, but watched for souls as one who must give account. Yes, Hfe was a wai-fare. Not always with outward foes. The struggle need not bo one that a looker-on could measure or see, but the warfare must be maintained — the stmggle must only cease with life. It Hit •i i l 226 Janet's love and sehvice. had been so with her father, she knew ; and through his ex- perience, Graeme cauglit a ghu^ipscof that wonderful paradox of the hfe that is hid with Christ in God, — constant warfare — and i)eacG that is abitlin^- ; and could the tnie peace be with i)ut the warfare? she asked herself. And what was awaiting them after ;i11 these tranquil days ? It was not the fear that this might be the lull before the storm that pained her, so nmch as the doubt whether th'a quiet time had been turned to the Ijest account. Had she been to her brothers all that father had beheved she would be? Had her influence always been decidedly on the side where her father's and her mother's would have been ? Thoy had been very happy together, but were her brothers really better and stronger Cluistian men, because of her ? And if, as she had sometimes feared, Harry were to go astray, could she be alto- gether free d'om blame ? The friends that had gathered aromid them during these years, were not just the land of friends they would have made, had her father mstead of her brother been at the head of the household ; and the remembrance of the pk asure they had taken in the society of some who did not think as their father had done on the most important of all matters, came back to her now lilie a sin. And yet if this had worked for evil among them, it was mdirectly ; for it was the iulluenco of no one whom they called their friend that she feared for Harry. She always came back to Harrj in her thoughts. "But I will not fear for him," she repeated often. "I will trust God's care for Harry and us all. Surely I need not fear. I think I have been beginning at the wrong end of my tangled thoughts to-night. Outward circumstances cannot make much difference, purely. If we are hmnble and trustful God will guide us." And busy still with thoughts from which renewed ti'ust had taken the sting, Graeme sat still in the moonhght, till the somid of r pproaching footsteps recalled her to the pres- ent. I ; CHAPTER XXII. THE shining boots criisliecl tlio f^ravol, and the white dress gleamed through the darlmess, some time after the yonrig men were seated in Mr. Elphinstgne's handsome drawing-room. The master of the mansion sat alone when they entered, gazmg into a small, bright coal fire, which, though it was not much past midsummer, burned in the gi*ate. For Mr. Elphinstone was an invahd, with little hope of being other than an invahd all his hfo, though he was by no means an old man yet. If he had been expecting visitors, he had forgotten it, for they had come quite close to him before he looked up, and he quite started at the sound of ^Ir. ^Millar's voice. He rose and received them courteously and kindly, however. Mr. Elphinstone in his own drawuig-room was a different person, ^r rather, he showed a different manner from Mr. Elphinstone in his counting-room in intercourse with his clerks, and Harry, who had had none but business intercourse with him, was struck with the difference. It required an effort for him to realize that the bland, gentle vf)ice was the same tliat he had so often heard in brief and prompt command. Business was to be ignored to-night, however. Their talk was of quite other matters. Tliere was an allusion to the new partnership, and to IMr. ^Millar's half-brother, the new partner, who at the moment, as they all knew, was passing along the garden walk with a little v/hite hand od his coal* sleeve. This was not alluded to, however, though each thought his own thoughts about it, in the midst of their talk. That those of Mr. Elphinr:tone were rather ngreeable t<-) lii.m- 1 1. I I M «; f;M 223 JANKTB LOVE A>il) HKI4VICE. self, tbo lads could plainly kcc. Ho had no sou, and that his partner and nephew should fall into a son's place Avas an id(>a that i)leased him well. Indeed, it had cost hiiu somo self-denial to-night not to intimate as much to him after tho pretty Lilias had witlKh'awn, and tho smile that Harry was stealthily watching on liis face, was called up by the remem- brance of the adniiration which liis daughter had evidently called forth. Harry watched the smile, and in his heart called the new partner " lucky," and " cute," and looked at Charlie's discontented face with a comic astonishment that would have excited somo grave astonishment to t heir host, if by any chance ho had looked up to see. Though why Charlie should look discontented about it, Harry coiUd not well see. They talked about indifTerent matters with a little effort till tho white dress gleamed in the firelight, and a soft voice said — "What, still in the dark, papa!" The hghts came in, and Harry was introduced to Miss El- X)hinstonc. He Lad sliarcd Rosie's interest in the lady of the pony carriage, long ago, and had sometimes seen and sjioken witii her in the garden in those days, but he had not seen her since her return fi-om Scotland, where her last three years had been S2:)cnt. A very sweet-looking and graceful little lady she was, though httle silent and shy at first, perhaps in s^>'mpatliy, Harry th. aght, with tho tall, bearded gentleman who had come in with her. It was evidently Harry's hiterest to Ijo on good tenns with tho new partner, and common politeness might have sug- gested the propriety of some appearance of interest in him and his conversation. But ho turned hi3 back upon tho group by the fire, and devoted himself to tho entertainment of their yoiuig hostess who was by this tune busy v ith her tea-cups in another part of the room. There was some talk about tho weather and tho voyage and sea-sickness, and in the first little pause that came, the young lady looked up and said. im .lie )iit iicr ud JANti" B LOVE AND ISEttVIGE. 22i) "You don't livo ill tlio bouse opjjosite now, I think." It was the lirwt vohuitary remark .she had made, and thank- ful for a now opening', Harry said, "No ; my sisters were never quite contented there. AVo left it as soon as possible ; and we are quite at the other end of the town now." "And is your little sist(T as fond of flowers as over?" I' "Kose? Oh, yes! She has a garden of her own now, and aspires to rival the pansies and verbenas of Mr. Stirling, even." Miss Elnhinstone smiled brif^htly. " . remember the lirst time she came into tlv irden." •'Yes, that was a brij^ht day in Rosie's lil She has the gowaiis you gave her still. The garden was a great resource to lier in those days." " Yes ; so she said I was very glad. I never gathc-red gowans among the hills at home, but I seemed to see that pretty shy face looking up at me." " Yes," said HaiTy, inetlitatively," Rose was a very pretty child." Mr. Millar had drawn near by this time. Indeed, the other gentlemen were n.-iLeiiing too, and wlien Miss Elphinstone looked up it was to meet a very wondering look from the iiew partner. " By the by, jIv. Elliott," said her father, breaking rather suddenly into the conversation, " whom did yom* elder brother marry V" '■ Marry !" repeated Charles. " He is not married," said Harry. "No? Well he is to be, I suppose. I saw him walking the other day with a young lady. Indjcd, I have often seen them together, and I thought — " sister, my pr< 0'- Perhaps so. She was ratlicj' tall, with a pale, gi-ave face — but pretty — ipiite beautifid " It ^vas Graeme, I dan people think her beautiful ini Iced. y. I don't ki?ow vrhcthcr othef not.' if w (1 2a iANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. Hiiny (lid not say it, but ho was thinidng that lils sister Bccincd beautiful to them all at houie, and his dark eyes took the tender look of Graeme's own as ho thought. It vanished quickly as a heavy hand was laid on his ahouldor, and ho tui'ncd to meet the look of the i;ow partner. " You don't mean that you are the }[aiTy Elliott that mailed with mo in the ' Steadfast,' ten years ago." "Yes, I am Harry I^lliott, and I croF-scd tho sea in the Steadfast ' ton years ago. I Imew j/ou at tho first glance, IVIr. Uuthven." '* I never should have known you in tho least," said ]\Ir. Ruthven. " Why, you were quite a httlo fellow, and now you can nearly look down on me." " I never thought of that," said Harry, lookhig foolish. "And you thought the new partner fancied himself too big a man to know you," said Charlie. " And that 'a the rea* pon you took umbrage at him, and told your sister he was— Ahem, HaiTy ?" Miss Elphinstone's laugh recalled Charlie to a scn?^o of propriety, and Harry looked more foolish than ever. But Ml. Ruthven chd not seem to notice what they were saymg. " I never should have known you. I see youi' father's look in you now — and you have your elder sister's eyes. "Wliy did you not write to mo as you promised ?" "We did write — Norman and I botli, and aftcrw^ards Graeme. Wc never heard a word from you." "You forget, it was not decided where you were to settle when I left you. You promised to wi'ite and tell me. I wrote several times to your father's fi'iend in C — , but I never heard fi'om him." " He died soon after we arrived," said Harry. " And afterward I heard of a Rev. INIr. Elliott in the west- ern part of New York, and went a day's, journey thinking I Jad found you all at last. But I found this Mr. Elliott was a very young man, an Englishman — a fine follow, too. But I was gi-eatly disappointed." ■wwHpwww?miiwj \ ^ JANET^S love and SEltVlCK. ii3i [ttlo I fcver [cstr ras Jut Hoi'ry'H c/cs grew to look more like Graeme's than ever, 13 they met Allan's downward fjfazo. "I can't toll yon how many Mr. Elliotts I have written to, and then I heard of your father's death, Ham*, and that yowi fiistcrs had ^^one home aj^ain to Scotland. I ^'ave up all hope then, till last winter, when I heard of a youn*^ Elliott, an eu- ffineer — Norman, too — and when I went in search of liim, ho was away fi'oni home ; then I went another fifty miles to bo tlisappointcd again. They told me he had a sister in a school at C — , but Rose never could have grown into the fau, blue- eyed httlo lady I found there, and I knew it could not bo cither of the others, so I only said I was sorry not to sec her brother, and went away." HaiTy listened eagerly. " I daresay it was our Norman, and the little girl you saw was his adopted sister, Hilda. If Norman had only known" — said Harry. And then ho went on to tell of how Norman had saved the little girl from the burning boat, and how ho had cared for her since. By and by they spoke of other things and had some music, but the new partner said little, and when it was time for the young men to go, he said he would walk down the street with them. "So, Charlie, you have found the friends who were so kind to me long ago," said liis brother, as they shut the gate. " Yes," said Charlie, eagerly, '' I don't know how I should have hved in this strange land without them. It has been a different place to me since Harry came to our office, and took me home with him." . ,, "And I suppose I am quite forgotten." " Oh, no, indeed !" said Hany, and Charlie added — "Don't you mind, Harry, your idster lio.sc said to-night that I reminded Miss Elliott of some one she knew long ago. It was Allan, I daresay, she meant. My mother used to say I looked as Allan did when he went away." They did not speak again till they came near the house. Xhen Charlie said : .1^ , I ^ .V ( I I Hi I I 232 JANFTB T.OVK AXD RERVICl?. "It in not very Into, iruriy. I wondciMvlicthor thoy ard np yet. TIilto is a li<^'l>t." •' Allan," said Harry, linj^nrinpf Ix'IiukI, " Marian died bo« foro my fathor. Don't H[)cak of her to Gracino." (Jraonio was still Hittin;^' on tlio stops. " jMjhh Elliott," wliiHp(;rod Charlio, oaf^erly, " who is (ho new partner, do you think ? Did I ever tell you my half-lu'other'a name ? It is Allan Huthven." Graeme ^avo neitlier Bt;i,rt nor ery, l)ut she camo forward holding out her hands to tlio tall ii^^ire who camo forward with an arm tlirown over Harry's shoulder. They were clasped in his. " I knew you would come. I was quite sure that some time we should see you a^ain," said Graeme, after a little. "And I — I had quite lost hope of ever finding you," said Allan. " I wonder if you have missed mo as I have missed you?" " We have been very happy together shico we partv 1 from you," said Graeme, "and very s()rrowfnl, too. But we never forgot you, either in joy or soitow ; and I was ahvays sm*e that wo should see you again." They went into the house together. Rose, roused fi'om the sleep into which sho had fallen, stood very much amazed beneath the chandelier. " You 'U never tell me that my wee white Rose has grown into a flower like this '?" said Allan. It was a bold thing for him to do, seeing that Rose was nearly as tail as her sister ; but he clasped her in his arms and kissed her " clieek and chin " as ho had done that misty morning on the deck of the " Steadfast " so many years ago. " Rose," said Graeme, " it is Mian — Allan Ruthven. Don't you remember. I was always sure we should see him again." They were very, vei-y glad, but they did not say so to one another in many words. The names of the dead were on their hps, making their voices trembling and uncertain. " Arthur," said Rose, as they were all sitting together a JANKTfl LOVK AND filllVKiC. 233 (lay or two after, "you have forgotten to t<'ll us about the party." "You have forpotton to ask iiio, you mean. You ha^ been ko tak(Mi up witli your new hero that I have had few of your thonj^'hts." Mr. Ruthven kiiuUmI at Rose from ihv oilier side of the ta])le. "Well, tell UH about it now," naid hIk*. "Yon must have enjoyed it Ixtter tlian you e\p(M.'ted, for more than t)ne of the * small hours ' had strnek before you came hom(>." " Oh, yes, I enjoyed it very well. I met younpf Storey, who has jn';t returned from iMU'ope. I eiijoycid his talk veiy much. And then IMrs. Gridley took me under her protec- tion. She is a clever wtnnan, and handsome, too." " Handsome !" echoed Rose. " Whv slie is an old woman, with f^Town-np daughters. And if you were t© see her by daylight !" They all laughed. "Well, that might make a difl'i renco. But she says very clever, or maybe very sharp things about her neighbors, and the time jiassed quickly till supper. It was rather late ])ut I could not leave before supper — the event of the evening." " I should think not," said Haiiy. "Well, we won't ask about the supper, lest it might make Harry discontented with his own. And what hai)penod after supper ?" " Oh ! after supper l\[r. Grove and his friend Banies began to discuss the harbor question, and I very foolishly allowed myself to be drawii into the discussion. jNIr. Ch-een was there, the gi'eat western merchant. He is a long-headed fel- low that. You must know him, Mr. I! at liven." " I know him well. He is a remarkably clever busmcss- man, and a good fellow ; though, I suppose, few know it so well as I do. I had a ^ong illness in C. once, and he nursed me as if I had been a brother. I might have known him for years in the way of business, without discovering his many excellent qualities. He has the name of being rather hard in the way of business, I believe ?" ^ t anM 'f I "'ft- V. I ^ i . ^ HL I t. • . • i> < i!< i mmm"" > MMMMMmm^ . -«ws*«**».««-« 34 JANKt's LOVt: AND SERVICI). f I I I "Ho has a clear head of his own," said Ai-thur, *'I en* joyed a talk with liiiu very much. He intends visiting fiarope, he tells me." " Well, -vvhal next ?" said Rose, to whom Mr. Green and his good qualities were matters of indifference. " Then I came home. Mr. Green walked down the street with me." • And did n't you see Miss Grove, the belle of the even- ing !'■* exclaimed Rose. " Oh, yes ! I had the honor of an introduction to her. She is a pretty little thing." " Pretty ! Is that all you can say for the bolle ? How does she look ? Is she fair or dark ? What color arc her eyes ?" " I can hardly say. She would be called fair, I think. I can't say about her eyes. She has a very pretty hand and arm, and — is aware of it." " Don't be censorious, Arthur ? Docs she wear cui'ls ? And what did she say to you ?" " Curls ! I cannot say. I have the impression of a quan- tity of hair, not in the best order, toward the end of the even- ing. She seemed to be dancing most of the time, and she dances beautifully." " But she surely said something to you. What did you talk about ?" demanded Rose, impatiently. " She told that if she were to dance all the dances for which she was engaged, she would n't * eret home tiil mora* ing.' " I " You don't mean to say you asked her to dance ?" " Oh, no ! She volunteered the mfonnation. I could have waited so long as to have the honor." " And, of course, you can't tell a word about her dress ?" " I beg youi' pardon," said Arthur, searching his pocket " It must be in my other vest. I asked Mrs. Gridley what the young lady's (h'ess was made of, and put it down for your satisfaction. Rosie, I hope, I have n't lost it." "Aiihui"! what nonsense!" said Graeme, laughing. "I Janet's love akd service. 235 am sure Mrs. Gridley was laughing in her sleeve at you all the time." *' She had n't any sleeve to laugh in. But Avhcn I told her that I was dohig it for the benefit of my httlc sister Kosie, 8he smiled ia her superior way." "I think I see her," said Rosie, inchgnantly. "But what was her ch-ess, after aU ? Was it silk or satin ?" *' No, nothing so commonplace as that. I could have re* membered silk or satin. It was " "Was it lace, or gauze, or crape ?" suggested Ilose." " Or tarltan or muslin ?" said Graeme, much amused. " Or damask, or velvet, or cloth of gold, or linsey-woolsey ?" said Hany. Ai'thur assmned an air of be^vilderment. " It was gauze or crape, I think. No ; it had a name of three syllables at least. It was white or blue, or both. But 1 11 wiite a note to Mrs. Gridley, shall I Rosie ?" " It would be a good plan. I wonder ^vllat is the use of yom* going to parties ?" " So do I, mdeed," said her brother. " I am quite in the dark on the subject. But I was told in confidence that there are cards to be issued for a gi'cat enteiiainment in Grove House, and I should not wonder if my 'accomplished sisters ' — as IVIi-s. Gridley in her fi'iendly way Ciills them — were to be visited in due form by the lady of the Grove pre- paratory to an invitation to the same. So be in readiness. I think I should write the note to ]Mrs. Gridley, Rosie ; you '11 need a hint." Graeme laughed, while Rose clapped her hands. " I am not afraid of the call or the imitation," said Graeme. But they came — first the call, which was duly returned, and then the invitation. That was quite informal. ]\Irs. Grove would be happy if Miss Elhott and her sister would spend the evening at her house to meet a few friends. To their surprise, Hany, as well as Arthur, came home with a Uttle pmk note to the same effect, I V m i w. ..i^^kJU '•"Tf?^g»?m«m"ii»f>Mw»^^ « .[ I 236 J A net's love and seuvioe. " I did n't know that you knew the Groves, Harry," said Aiiliur. " Oh, yes, I know j\Ir. Grove in a general way ; but I am invited through a mistake. However, I shall go all the same I am not responsible for other peojDle's mistakes. Nothing can be plainer than that." "A mistake !" rejieated several voices. "Yes ]Vlrs. Grove thinks I am a rising man, hke the squire here ; and why undeceive her ? I shaU add to the brilliancy of her party, and enjoy it mightily myself. Why undeceive her, I ask ?" " Don't be nonsensical, HaiTy," said Rose. " How came Mrs. Grove to make such an absui'd mistake ?" Baid Arthur, laughing. " She's cule, I know ; still it was not surprising in the cii'cumstanccs. I met her on the street yesterday, and I saw the invitation in her eyes as plainly as I see this httle pink concern now ;" and he tossed the jiote to Rose. *' I think I should send the acceptance to Miss Elphinstone. It was she who obtained the invitation for me." " Miss Elphmstone !" "Yes, or Jack, or both, I sihould perhaps sa}'. For if Jack had been at his i^ost, I should not have been politely requested to call a carriage for Miss Elphmstone, and IVIrs. Grove would not have seen me escorting her down the street as she sat m her carriage at Alexander's door. I laiow she was thinking I was very Ijold to be walking on N. Street w^ith my master's daughter. Of course she did n't know that I was doing the work of that rascal Jack. And so I am going to the (irove pai'ty, unless, indeed, there is any objection to our going en jnay.sc. Eh, Graeme ?'* " It is not a pai'ty, only a few friends," said Rose, eagerly. " Certainly, we 11 all go," said Arthm*. " If they had not wanted us all, they would not have ayked us. Of coui'se, we 'U all go for once." " But, Graeme," said Harry, coming back after he had left to go away, "don't lot the idea of *a few friends' delude JANETS LOVE AND SERMCE. 237 you. Make yourselves as fine as possible. There will be a gi-eat crowd you may be sure. Miss Elpliinstoiie and Mr. I^utbven are invited, and they are not among the intiniato fiiends of such people as tlie Groves. Shall I send you home a fashion book, Rosie ?" " Or MTite a note to Mrs. Gridley," said Ai'thiu*. Bose laughed. She was pleasantly excited at the f>rospect of her first large party, there was no denying it. Lideed, she did not seek to deny it, but talked merrily on, not seeing, or not seemmg to see, the doubtful look on Graeme's face. She alone, had not spoken during the discussion. She had not quite decided whether this invitation was so delightful as Rosie thought, and in a httle when her sister had left the room, she said — " ShaU I accept the invitation then for Rose and me ?" " Have you not accepted yet ? you need not of course, un- less you wish. But I think you will enjoy it, and Rosie, too." " Yes, but I am by no means siu'e, that I hke I\Irs. Grove," said she, hesitating. "Ai-e you not?" said her brother, laughing. .-^^Well, I have got much farther than you. I am sui-e that I don't liko her at all. But, Avliat of that ?" " Only that I don't fancy accepting kindness, fi'om a per- son I don't like, and to whom I don't think it would be pleasant to repay in kind." "Oh! nonsense. The obhgation is mutual. Her kind- ness wiU be quite repaid, by having a new face in her splendid rooms. And as for rej^aying hor in kind, as you call it, that is quite out of the question. There are not a dozen pcoi^lo in to^vn who do the thing on the scale tlie Groves at< , tempt. And besides, Rosie would bo disappohited." Graeme did not believe that it was the best thhig that could happen to Rosie, to be gratified in this matter, but die did not say so. " After all," thought she, " I dai'esay there is no harm in it. I shall not spoil the pleasure of the rest, l)y not seeming to enjoy it. But I don't like Mrs. Grove," i i ^ 1 r. J 238 Janet's love and service. 'Ill The last words were cmpliaticallj repeated. She did not Hke her. She did not wish to see her frequently, or to know her intimately. She wished she had neither called, nor in- vited them. She wished she had f(jllowed her fii'st impulse, which had been to refuse at once without referring to her brothers. Now, however, she must go with a good grace. So they all went, and enjoyed it very much, one and all, as they found on comparing notes ai omid the bright httle fire which Nelly had kept burning, against their return. " Only," said Rosie, ^vitll a little shamefacedncss, "I am not sure that Graeme liked me to dance quite so much." Graeme was not sure either, but she did not think this the best time to speak about it. So slie did not. " But how you ever learned to dance is a mystery to me," said Aiihur, " and Harry too, I saw him carrying off Miss Elphinstone, with all the coolness imaginable. Really, the yoimg people of the present day amaze me." "Oh! one can dance without learnmg," said Rose, laugh- ing. " The nnisic inspires it." "And I have danced mtmy a time before," said Hari'y. " You are not sorry you went, are vou Graeme ?" "Sony! no indeed! I have had a very pleasant evening." And so had they all. Mrs. Grove had made a great effort to get a gi'cat many nice and clever people together, and she had succeeded. It had required an effort, for it was only lately, since his second man'iage, that ]\Ir. Grove had affect- ed the society of clever people, or indeed, any society at all. There were people who fancied tliat he (hd not affect it yet, and who pitied him, as he wandered about, or lingered in cor- ners among the guests, that his more aspiring wife managed to J)ring together. He did not enjoy society much, but that was a small matter in the ' opinion of his wife. He was as little of a drawback to the general enjoyment, as could be expect- ed in the circumstances. If he was not quite at his ease, at least., he was seldom in anybody's way, and Mrs. Grove was quite able to do the honors for both. Mr. Grove was a man whom it was not difficult to i^ore, evoij i;i his own dining- Janet's love and service. 239 t 1b room. Indeed, the gi'catest kindnoss that could bo shown to the poor little man in the cii'cumstanees, was to ignore him, and a gi'cat deal of thi:j sort of kind feeling was mani- fested t(3wards him by his guests. On the fuKt entrance of Aiihiu' and Graeme, tlioii* host fastcLcd on the former, renewmg with gi-eat earnestness a conversation commenced in the moniiug m the yoimg man's office, lliis did not last long, however. The hostess had too high an opinion of Mr Elliott's powers of pleasing, to permit them to bo wasted on her husband, so she smilingly earned him off, leaving INIr. Grove for the present, to the tender mercies of Graeme. He might have had a worse fate ; for Graeme listened and responded with a politeness and interest to which he was little accustomed from his "uife's guests. Before ho became unbeoTably tedious, she was res- cued by Mr. Ruthven, and Mr. Grove went to receive ]Mi\ Elias Green, the gi-eat western merchant, a gnest far more worthy of his attention than any of the fine ladies and gea- ttcmen, who only kne^v liim in the character of feast-maker, or as the stupid husband of his aspiiing wife. Graeme had seen Allan Ruthven ofteii since that first night. They had spoken of the pleasant and painful things that had befallen them, since they parted so long ago, or they might not have been able to walk so quietly up and down the crowded rooms, as they did for a while. Then they found a quiet, or rather a noisy corner in the music room, where they pursued their conversation unmolested, till Harry brought Miss Elphmstone to be introduced to Graeme. ,j This was a nuitual plcasiu'e, iov Graeme wished to know the young lady who had long been Rosie's ideal of all that was sweet and beautiful, and j\Iiss Elphinstone was as pleased to become the friend uf one whom her cousins Allan and Charlie admired so mucn. And when she begged permission to call upon her ard Rose, what could Graeme do, but bo charmed nore and more. Then Miss Elphin- stone was claimed for another dance, and who should pre- sent himself a^ain but their host, and with Uim iiae M'uest of i I ■ V ■>-ii Li«i 240 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. ■!■ the evening, the great western merchant. Then there were a few minutes not so pleasant, and then Mr. Green proposed that they "should make the tour of the rooms." But Graeme had not the coui'age for such an ordeal, and smiling- ly begged to be excused; and so he sat down beside her, and by and Ijy, Graeme was surprised to find herself interested in his conversation. Before he had been a gi'eat merchant, Mr. Green had been a farmer's boy among the hills of Ver mont, and when he knew that Miss Elliott had passed seven happy years in a New England village, he found enough to say to her; and Graeme listened and responded, well pleased. She had one uncomfortable moment. It was when the supper movement began to be made, and the thought flashed upon her, that she must be led to the supper room, by this western giant. Mr. .Ruthven saved her from tliis, however, to the discontent of the giant, who had been so engaged in talking and listening, as not to have perceived, that some- thing interesting was about to take place. The sight of the freely flowing champagne gave Graeme a shock, but a glance at Hariy reassured her. There was no danger for him. to- night. Yes, they had all enjoyed it, they acknowledged, as they lingered over the fire after their retui*n. " But, Arthur," said Graeme, " I was disappointed in Miss Grove. She is pretty, certainly, but there is something wanting — in expression I mean. She looks good tempered, but not intellectual." "Intellectual!" repeated Arthur. "No. One would hai'dly make use of that word in describing her. But she is almost the prettiest little thing I ever saw, I think." " And she certainly is the siUiest httle thing I ever saw," said HaiTy. "Rosie, if I thought you capable of talking such stuff, as I heard from her pretty hps to-night, /would Arthur laughed ; less, it seemed, at what Hany had said, than at what it recalled. " She is not likely to astonish the world by her wisdom, I should tliink," said he, as he rose to go up stans, " Nor ling ^red, )uld 10 is Janet's love and beiivice. 241 Rosie either, for that matter," he added, laughing, and look- ing back. " None of u.s aro givinfjf great proof of wisdom just now, I tliink," sfiid Graeme. " Come, Rosie, Nelly will lose patience if breakfast is kept waiting. Good night, HaiTy. Don't oit long." i aw," [king rould Isaid, Kor h CHAPTER XXII I. WHETHER Nelly lost her patience next morning or not, history does not record ; but it is a fact that breakfast was late, and late as it was, Eosic did not niako licr appcf.ranco at it. Graeme had still a very pleasant re- membrance of the evening, bnt it was not altogctlier un- mixed. The late l^rcakfast, the disarrangement of household matte:*", Rosie's lassitude, and her own chsinclination to engage in any serious occupation, was some drawback to the remembrance of her enjoyment. All were more or less out of sorts, some from one cause, some from another. This did not last long, however. The drawback was for- gotten, the plcasm*e was remembered, so that when a day or two afterward, a note came fi'om Mrs. Gridley, begging the presence of the l^rotliers and sisters at a small party at her house, nothing was said about refusing. Mrs. Gridley had promised some friends from Toronto, a treat of Scottish music, and she would be inconsolable should they disappoint licr. But the consolation of Mrs. Gridley was not the chief reason of the acceptance. Artliiu* was to be out of town, but Will, was to go in his place. They went, and enjoyed it well ; indeed, it was very enjoyable. Mrs. Gridley was a serious person, said her friends, and some, who had no claim to the- title said the same — the tone and maimer making aU the difference in the sense of the declaration. She would not for much, have been guilty of givuig dancing or card parties in her own bouse, though b}- some mysterious process of reasoning, she had convmced herself that she could quite innocently make one of such iDarties in the houses of other people. So JANET fl LOVE AKD SERVICE. 243 , and samo the havo own ming, 3ontly So there was only music and conversation, and a siinple game or two for the very young people, (iraenio and Rosie, and Will., too, enjoyed it well. Hany professed to havo been bored. Out of these parties sprang others. Graeme hardly knew how it haj)pene(l, but tlie number of their acquaintances greatly increased about this time. Perhaps it was pai'tly owing to the new partnership entered into by Arthur, with the long established firm of Black & Co. They certainly owed to this, the sight of several fine carriages at their door, and of several pretty cards in their receiver. Invitations came thick and fast, untO an entire change came over their manner of life. Hegular reading was interfered with or neglected. Household matters must have fallen into con- fusion, if Nelly had not proved herself equal to all emergen- cies. The long quiet evening at homo became the exception. They went out, or some one came in, or there was a lecture or concert, or when the sleighing became good a diive by moonlight. There were skating parties, and snowshoeiug parties, enough to tire the strongest ; and there was no leasure, no quiet time. Graeme was not long in beeoming dissatisfied with this changed, unsettled life. The novelty soon wore off for her, and she became painfully conscious of the attendant evils. Sadly disinclmed herself to engage m any serious occupation, she could not but see that with her sister it was even worse. Rose enjoyed all these gay doings nuich more, and in a way quite different from her ; and the succeeding lassitude and depression were proportionably gi'cater. Indeed, lassitude and depression were quite too gentle terms to apply to the child's sensations, and her disinclination to occupation some- times manifested itself in an unmistakable approach to peevishness, unless, indeed, the party of the evening was to be followed by the excm'sion of the day. Then the evil effects were delayed, not avci-ted. For a time, Graeme made exciises for her to herself and to her brothers ; then she did what was much wiser. She deteimined to put a stop to the t 5,! •If] iUi I 244 JiNETS LOVE Axr> 6KRVICE. cause of so much discomfort. Several cii'cumstanccs lielpt^d bcr to tliis decision, or rather to see the necessity for it. Sho only hesitated as to tho manner in Avhich she was to !nake her determination known ; and while she hesitated, an opportunity to discuss their changed hfo occurred, and sho did not permit it to pass uriimproved. Chnstmas and New Year'.i had lieen past I'o'' some weeks, and there was a pause in tlie festivities of theh* circle, when a billet of the usual form and pui-port was left at the door by a servant in livery. Rose, wlio had seen him pass the window, had much to do to keep herself qui( t, till Nelly had taken it from liis hand. She just noticed that it ^^ as ad- dressed to Clraeme, in time to prevent her fi'om opening it. " "What is it, Graeme V " asked she, eagerly, as she entered the room whore her sister was writing. " I am almost sure it was left by Mrs. Roxbui'y's servant. See, there is their crest. Wliat is it ? An invitation ? " " Yes," said Graeme, quietly, laying down the noie. "For the twenty-seventh." " Such a long time ! It will be a gi'and affair. We must have new dres^c.?, Graeme." She took up the note and read : "Mrs. Roxbui^'s com^hments to Miss Elhott." " Miss Elhott ! " she repeated. " Wliy, Graeme I I am not invited." " So it seems ; but never mind, Rosie. I am not going to accept it." Rose v/as indoed crestfallen. " Oh, you must go, of course. You must not stay at home on my account." " No ; certainly. That is not the reason. Your being invited would have mr.de no difference." "I could hardly have gone without you," said Rose, doubt* foUy. "Certainly not. Neither of us would have gone. If I don't accept this invitation our acquaintance with the Box- JANKT^S LOVE AND 8EIl\ ICE 2i5 If I lox- bmyn will pcrluipR go no fiirtlior. Tliat would bo a sufficient reason for my rcfn.siil, if there were no other.s." "A snfVu'ient reason for not refusing, I shouM rather say," Baid Rose. " No. There is no good reason for keeping np an ao- quahitanec with so many people. There in no pleasiu'o m it; and it is a gi-eat waste of time and strength, and money too, for tliat matter." *' But Arthur wishes it. lie thinks it right." " Yes, to a eertain extent, perhai)s, but not at too great a cost. I don't moan of money, though in our circumstances that is something, too. But so much going out has been at a gi'eat saciitico of time and comfort to us all. I am tired of it. Wo won't speak of it now, however ; I must finish my letter." For to tell the truth, Rosic'sface did not look promis- ing. "Don't send a refusal till you have spoken to Arthur, Graeme. If he wishes you to go, you ought, you know\" " I am by no means siu'o of that. Arthur docs not very often go to these large parties himself. Ho does not enjoy them. And I see no reason why I should deny myself, in so bad a cause." " But Graeme, you have enjoyed some of them, at least. I am sure I have always enjoyed them." " Yes, I have enjoyed some of them, but I am not siu*e that it is a light kind of enjoyment. I mean, it may be too dearly bought. And besides, it is not the party, as a pai*ty, that I ever enj©3^ I have had more real pleasure in some of our quiet evenings at home, with only — only one or two friends, than I ever had at a party, and , but wo won't talk about it now," and she bent over her letter again. She raised her head almost immediately, however. " And yet, Rosie, I don't know why this is not the best time to say what, for a long time, I have meant to say. We have not been living a good or ^vise life of late. Do you mind, iove, what Janet said to us, the night before we came away ? Do you mind the charge she gave us, to keep our garments 1 ' i i R ■m 1 ;'t{i ' ■^1' %: 1 .ii 'tmm inm «ui it i 2^0 JANKT^a LOVE AND SKRVIOK. nnspottccl till wc meet our father iuu\ niotlicr again ? Do yotl think, (l(\.r, tlu! lifo of plrusuro W(! liavobocn living, will niako Uh more like what our niotlicr svas, more like what our father wished us to be — more lit to meet them where tlicy are ?" (Iraeme Hi)oke very earnestly. There were tears in her eyes. " (iraro living in a way disi)leasing to Him. For it is not well with us, dear. Wo need not try to hide it from oursdves. Wo nmst forg(!t the last few troubled months, and beg.n again. Yes, we nmst go farther back than that, Rosie," said Graemo, suddenly rising, and putting her arms about her sist .>r. " Do you mind that last night, beside the two gTaves ? How little worth iill seemed to us then, except to get safe home together. Rosie ! I could not answer for it to oiu' father and mother if wo were to Uvo this troubled life long. My darling ! we nmst begin again." There were tears on Rosie's cheeks, as well as Graeme's, by this time. But in a little Graeme sat down again. " It is I who have been most to blame. These gay doings never should have commenced. I don't think Arthur will ob- ject to ^our living much more quietly than wo have done of late. And if he does, we nmst try and reconcile him to the change." It was not diflScult to reconcile jVi'tlnu' to the change. " Graeme must do as she thought right," he said. "It must bo rather a ti'oublesomo thing to keep up such a general ac- quaintanco — a loss of time to Uttlo piupose," and so it would ■■Mi m % 3 248 janet'b love and service. have ended, as far as lie was concerned, if Harry had ncit dis- covered IVIi's. Koxbury's note. "I declare 3Irs. Grivll(!y is riylit," said he. "We area rising family. I hope you gave that lady a chance to peep uito this note, when she was here to-day. But how ia this V Mi.sH Elliott. Have you one, Rosie ? " Rose shook her head. "No. Have yod, Harry?" " Have I ? What are you tlnnking of. Rose ? Do you suppose those lofty portals would give admission to one who is only a humble clerk ? It is only for such commercial successes as "Mr. Green, or Allan Ruthven, that that honor is reserved. But never mind, Rosie. AVe shall lind sometniug to amuse us that night, I have no vloubt." "Graeme ir? not going/' said Rose. "X ot (ro'ma: ! Oh ! she '11 think bettor of it." i-i "No, she has sent her refusal." " i\jid why, pray ? " " Oh ! one can't go everywhere, as IMrs. Gridley says," re- plied Graeme, thus appealed to. " Yos ; but Mrs. G ridley said that with regard to a gather- ing of our good friend, Willie Biruio, the tailor. I can under- stand how she should not lind time to go there. But how you should find time to shine on that occasion, and have none to spare for ]\L-s. Roxbury's select affair, is more than I can comjn'chend." "Don't Lt snobbish, Harry," said Will. " I think the reasons are obvious," said Arthur. "Yes," said (h-aomo, "we knew Willie Birnie when wo were childi'c n. He was at the school with you aU. And I hke his new wife veiw much, ai)d our going gave them plea- sure, and, besides, I enjoyed it woll." ''Oh! if vou are going to ^ako a sentimental view of the matter, I have nothing to say. And Willie is a fine fellow ; I don't olijtct to Willie, or the new wife either — quite the con- trary. But of the two, people geiicially would i)rel"er to cui- tivate the acquaintance of Mrs. Roxbiuy and her set,** o G Janet's love and service. 24& ro- lier- ider- liow none call liid I iplca- If the llow ; b cui- " Graeme is not like people generally," said Rose. " I hope not," said Will. " And, Harry, wliat do you sup- pose INIi-s. Roxbury cares about any of us, after all ? " *' She cares about Graeme going to her party, or she would not have asked her." " I am not sure of that," said Graeme, smihng at the eager- ness of the brothers. " I sui^pose she asked me for the same reason that she called here, because of the partnership. They are connected with the Blacks, in some way. Now, that it is off her conscience, having invited mo, I daresay she will be just as well pleased that I should stay at home." " That is not the least bit uncharitable, is it Graeme ? " *' No. I don't think so. It certainly cannot make much difference to her, to have one more or less at her house on the occasion. I really think she asks me from a sense of duty — or rather, I ought to say, fi'om a wish to be polite to her friends the Blacks. It is very well that she should do so, and if I cared to go, it would, of course, be a^Tceablo to her, but it will not trouble her m the least tliough I stay away." ""\^'eU, I can't but say you have chosen an unfortunate oc- casion to begin to be fastidious. I should think the Rox- bmy's would be the very house you would like to go to." "Oh! one has to make a beginning. Aiul I am thed of so much gayety. It makes no difference about its being Mrs. Roxbuiy." *' Veiy well. Please yourself and you '11 please me," said Harry, rising. *'' Ai*e you going out to-night, Harry?" said Graeme, try- ing not to look anxious. " Yes ; but pray don't wait for me if I should not bo in early," said Harry, rather hastily. There was notliing said for some time after Hiirry went out. Will, went to his book.-i, and Rose went to the piano. Graeme sewed busily, but she looked grave and anxious. " What can make Harry so desu'ous tliat you should go to Mrs. Roxbury 's ?" said iVi'thur, at last. " Have you any piu'- ticular reason foi not wishing to go r " '« f! P' 250 Janet's love and service. " Do you think Harry really cared ? No ; I have no reason for not wishing tt back to tho old starting-plaoc again, and in the knowledge he did not spare himself, but used harder c i eteraer words of self-contempt than any that are wri ♦^on here. Ruthven's intercourse with his imcle's family, thougn <'- cuning at long intervals, had been of a very pleasant kind, for he was a gi'eat favorite with his aunt and his t .» iin IjiUas, who was then a child. Indeed, she was only a child when her mother died ; and when there fell into his hands a letter wiitten by his amit to his mother, diuing one of his first visits to INL, in which half seriously, half playfully, was expressed a wish that tho cousins might one day stand in a nearer and dearer relation to one another, ho was greatly Biurprised and amused. I am afraid it was only the thought that tho hand that had penned tho wish was cold in death that kept liim fi'om shocking his mother by laughing out- right at tho idea. For what a child Lihas nuist have been when that was 'Wiitton, thought he ! what a chUd she was still! But tho years went on, and the child gi'cw into a beautiful woman, and the remembrance of his aunt's wish was pleasant to Allan Ruthvon, because of his love and admiration for liis cousin, and because of other things, lie could not bo blind to the advantages that such a connection would ensui'O to him. The new paiiaiership was anticipated and entered upon, on very different terms fi*om those which might have ' i''l M^WMMHINM. 258 .TANKTS LoVn AND Pr!liVlcK. |i I III I ' Hi- i been, but for ilio silont i nderstsiMdinf,' with regard to Lih'aft tliat oxiHicid Ik'Uvcou tlu! uncle juid n(q»li('\v. It was no Rniall Matter that th(! young nierelianl sliould Ihid liiniKclf in i\ position to which the greater nnnibcr attain only after half u lifetime f>f labor. He was at tlu; head of a lucrative busi* nosR, conr.eious of possessing sidher; and though up to this time, and after this time their intercoiu'sc was only after a cousinly sort, he behcved she loved liim. The thought did come into his mind soniethues whether his cousin was all to hiu) that a woman might be, but never painfully. He (hd not doubt that, as years went on, they would be very happy together after a quiet, rational fashion, and he smiled, now and then, at the fa(Ung remembrance of many a boyish dream as to how his wife was to be wooed and won. Ho was happy — they were all happy ; and the tide of cventp flowed (juietly on till the night when Allan clasped the tremblmg liand of Graeme Elliott. Indeed, it flowed quietly on long after that, for in the chai*m that, night after night, drew him into the happy circle of the Elliotts, he recognized only the pleasure that the renewal of old fiiendships and the awakenmg of old associations gave hhn. The pleasure which his cousin took in the society of these yoimg j^eoplc was scarcely less than his own. Around the heiress and only child of IVIr. Elphinstone there soon gathered a brilUant circle of adiiiii-ers, the greatei part of whom would hardly have recognized the Elliotts as worthy of shaiing the honor with them. But there was to the young gu'l, who had neither brother nor sister, something better than brilliancy or fashion in Graeme's quiet piu'lor. The mutual love and confidence that made their homo so happy, filled her with wonder and delight, and there were few days, for several pleasant months, in which they did not meet. Janet's love and skkvice. 259 bh 3r The i)lf'asant inlcrfourso "vvftH ^'ood for Liliiifl. Sbo bri.'^'lit encil midor it woudorfiilly, and ^v\v iiito a very diflerci t crcahiro from the )»alo, ([ui(.'t, littlo g-irl, -svlio used to sit so l^'ravc'ly at lior fallior's Hide. IFt-r father Haw the change and rejoiced over it, and tbon;^di at fu'st he was not inelmcd to ho jileayed with the intimacy that liad 8pnin<^' up ko suddenly, ho couJd not but confess that the companionship of cue liko Rose Elliott nuist he j^ood for her. Graeme he seldom saw. I'ho long niornhi;^' callH, and spending of days with her fiiend, which were Kosie's deli;'ht, (lra(>mo seldom shared. But she was quite as much the friend of Lilias as was her liveher sis- ter, and never did his cousin seem so beautiful to iUlan, never was slio so dear, as when, with pretty willfulness, siio bung about (iraem<', claiming a right to share with Rose the caresses or gentle reproofs of the elder sister. He did not think of danger to himself in the intercourse which Lilias shared so hai)pily. 1 [e v.as content with the present, and did not seek to look into the futiu'e. But he was not quite free from troublcnl thoughts at tliis time. Li the atmosphere in which he lived things Avore a new aspect to him. iUmost unconsciously to himself at first, he began to judge of men, and motive s, and actions, by a now rule — or rather, ho came back to the old ride, by which he had measured all thin<;s in his youthful days. These days did not seem so far removed from Inm now as they used to do, and sometimes he found hiuiself Looking back over the last ten years, with the clear truthful eyes of eighteen. It was not always a pleasant rctrixspect. Tliere were some things covere(l up by that time, of whi( h the review could not j^ive unmingied pleasure. These were moments when he could not meet Graeme's truthftd eyes, as with "Don't you r<'ni(>niber? " she recalled his own words, spoken long ago. He knew, though she did not, how his thoughts of all things had changed suiee then ; and though the intervening years had made him a man of wealth and note, there came to him at such moments, a sense of failiu'e and regi-et, as though his manhood had belied the promise of his youth— a strong desu'e to begin anew m I ■im f J 2(30 jankt's love and skrvice. —a lon<,nn{» after a better life than these ten yearn had w\\r ncHsed. But thcHO plciiHaiit (lays cainn to au end. Business called Allan, for a time, to his old home in C, and to his uneon- genial hfe there. It wan not pleasant business. There was a cry, luuder than usual, of "hard times " through the enun* try, and the faihin; of several houses, in whieh he had placed implicit confidcnee thniateiied, luA, indeed, to endanger tho safety, but greatly to embarrass the operations of the new firm, (ireat losses were sustained, and complicated aw their affairs at tho West had become, Allan began to f-nir that his own presence there would for some time be necessary. Ho "was sui'prised and startled at the pain which tho prosiooct gave him, and before he had time t(3 <]uestion himself as to why it should be so, the reason was made plain to him. A letter written by his uncle immediately after a partial recovery from an illness, a retiu'n of whieli, his pliysicians a^ siu'ed hun nuist prove fatal, set the matt(U* Ixfore him in ita tnie hght. The letter was brief. Knowing liltle of tho dis- order into which recent events had thi'owu their affairs, ho entreated Allan's immediate return, for his sake, and f«jr tho sake of Lilias, whom it distressed hhn to thmk of leavhig till ho should see her safe w ith ouo who should have a husband's right to i)rotect and console her. It was simply and frankly said, as one might speak of a Matter fully understood and ai> proved of by all c(jncerned. lint the words smote on Allan':/ heart with sharp and sudden pain, and ho knew that some- thing had come into his life, since the time when ho had listoucd in complacent silence to ]\[r. Elphiustone's half ex- pressed ideas, concerning Lilias and her future. There was pleasure in the pain, shaii:) and sweet while it lasted, for with tho knowledge that came to him, that he loved Graeme ElUott, there camo also the hope, that there was something more than gentle fiiendhness in the feelings with which sho re- gar«led him. But tho pleasure passed, and tho pain remained, growing sharper and dei-por as he looked the future in the face. It was not a hopeful future. As for liis couoin, there had J'VNLTH LOVE AND BKRVIOE. 961 pftsscci between them no words or tokoiiH of jiffoction, that coiiHiiiH mi;,4it not vcrj' well cm-Iuui^c*, at IcjiHt, ho was willing to bclioYo HO now ; and jii(l;^in^ hor fcohn«;M, partly by hin own, and [)artly by the runuiubnmco of many a chancf word and action of tho last few months, ho s.iid to himself, the happiness of her life would not Im marr('(l thon;^^h they mi«^dit never be more than cousins to each otlier. ]>ut this did not end his doubts as to the courst; tliathiy before him, and every day tliiit Ik; lin;^^( rrd in miserable indeeisiou, made more evi- dent to him the dillicultics of his position. Ho knew it was a son's place that he had f^ot in the lu'm. He eould only elaim it as a son. If his relations to Lihas and her father W( ro changed, it seemed to him that he could not honorably claim a position which had been urged u[)on him, and whi( h he had ghwlly accepted with a view to these relations. 'I'he i)ast ten years must be as nothing to lum, except for the; experienco they had given him, the good nauu! they had won for him. Ho nuist begin life again a poor man. Bat let me not be unjust to him. It was not this that made all tho misery of his indecision. Had nil tliis come in a time of pro.sjK'rity, or when ^Ir. Ei[)hin.stonehad strengtii and courage to meet disaster unmov(>d, it would have been dill'er- cnt. But now, when all things looked threatening, when cer- tain loss — possible ruhi — h)y before them, when tlu^ misfor- tunes of some, and tho treaeheiy of others were making tho vorj' gi'ound beneath their feet insecure, could he leave the feeble old man to stiniggle through these dilllcult and danger- ous times alone? He knew his uncle too well to believe tliat ho would willingly accept liel[) from him, th( ir rdationtj be- ing changed, and ho 1. new that no skill and knowledge but his own could conduct to a successful issue, enterprises under- taken under more favorab^^ circumstances. He was very wretched. He eould not put away tlio ths- comfoi't of his indecision by iKrmitting time and circumstan ces to decide in tho course v.hich he must take. '\\'liatever was done must be done by liim, and at onct>. U'here was no respite of time or chance to full back iiptai, in the strait in I' il i: I..' >i 262 JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. which he fcjiuid hiiiiKclf. lie did not hasten home. Ho hod cause (.'noii^di to oxcuho the dtlay to him.sclf, and he threw himself into the incrcasinfj^ly painl'ul details of iMisinosn, ^vith an encrfjfy that, fthing but her ov/n spoken word could free him from tho tacit engagement that existed betweeu them. In honor he c uild nev(-r ask her to s[)eak that word. Through his long journey of days and nights he pondered it all, makhig no decision as to what vas to Ik done or said, but growing gradually conscious as he (h'ow near home, that the life of the last few months, was coming to se<.'m moreauvl molt' like a pletisaiil di'onm that nuist be forg()tt(!n in tho futme. He !•<' * l''^^ uncl'j's eager greeting with no word of change. His face was pale and very grave when ho met his ousin, but not more ho than her's. But that might very A'cU bo said each of the cT :< r. Lilias knew more of tho loHseH which the lirm hail sustained than her father knew ; and Mau might well look gi-ave, alio thought, and the watch- JAXr- 1 i) LOVB AKD tiKliVlOR- •jr3 iTig and anxiety for her father's sake mi<;\it woU account to him for her sad h)olv.s. After the first clasp of their haiila he knew that the yon\'s hitherto im.spokeu auLst now l^: f'J^* ul.l eeii .nl. red .lid, .hat luul the h of hiH very tho ©w ; deli* 17 !l CHAPTER XXy. /^ RAEJIE did ^o to IMi-s. Roxbiir} 'h party, and it Iiap* \J{~ peiicd in tliiHway. The invitatioiiH had ])ccn sent out before ]Mr. Elphinstone's Hhort, sliarp ilhiess, and Lilian had been made very useful l»y her aunt on the occasion. Slie had not been consulted al)out the sendinf* of (Jraenio's invi- tation, or prohahly ]{()se would have had one too, Init by pood fortune, as she declared, (Iraeme's refusal cane lirst to her hand, and llu; liHlr lady did a most unprecedented thin;,'. She put it (juietly into her pocket, luid goin^rliome that ni^j^ht by the lOiliott's, ventm*ed to expostulate, "First, you must promise not to bo vexed," and then she showed the note. (Jraeme looked j^n'avo. "Now you must not be nii^jcry with mo. Itosie, tell her not to bo vexed, because, you know you can write another refusal, if you ar(> dettrmiiK.d. But I am :suro you will not be so cruel. I can't tell you any reason, exc(!))t that I have Bct my heart on your beiji^j there, and you '11 come — to pleaso mo, will you uotV" "To pleaso you, ouf^^ht to be sullicient reasons, I know," said Graeme, Hmih!l^^ And Lilias knew sho had prevailed ■with lier friend. .She saw the acc(!]>tanco written, andeanied it otl* to place it wii!» dozens of others, in the hands of Mrs. Koxbury. Sho did not say much to (iraemo about it, but to Hosie, siie triumphed. "I want Aunt lloxbiu'y to seo Oraemo looking her very bo8t. Graeme will look like a queen among uh. Aunt ^.•i^ BOO that Allan and I have good reasons fur our admiration. Fancy any of these trumpery people^ patronizing Graon^e! But yuu arc not to tell lier what I say. You don't think she ? k > r.l *(l irs. cry uiU on. i\e\ bIiq 1 I JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. 205 was really voxod with mo, do you ? And slio n?'ast wear bor new peach-] )loRso7n silk. I am ho {?lad." But ])0()r litth^ LilijiH ^\'ont throuj^'h deop waters, hoforotho poach-blossom silk was worn by Graomo. ISFr. Elphinstone WHS ])r()ught very near the ^ales of death, and anxious days and ni^'hts were ])assod l)y his dau<:,'ht('r at his bedside. Aire. Koxburv would have recalled lier invitations, and Lilias' Boul sickened at the thought of tlio entertauniient ; but when the inmiediatc danger was over, events fell into their usual channel, and though she gave no more assistance, either })y word or deed, her aunt coiuited on her presence on the occasion, and even her father insisted that it was right for her to go. "And so, my love," said Airs. Koxburv, "as your fatlier ftnclipsc all hciv toni^j^ht? Look at her now." ■''My dear," Kiiid lur mint, "she does Ixittor than tlmt. She iH very lovely and lady-like, and tries to eclipse no one, and HO wins all hearts." Lilias' eyes sparkicnl as liho looked at her eoiisin, hut he did not eiiteh her look. " ISIy dear," eontinued ^L's. Jvoxlniiy, "I have news for you, l>ut perhaps, it is no news to you. Ah ! ho has found her." Mr. EUus Greon was at the moment, making his bow to C«rat>mo. "There was no truth in the rumor, about him and littlo Miss ( I rove. IMr. Cireen has more sense. Youi* fi'iend is for- tmuito Lilias." Lilias lookcid at her amit in astet liis oyo. thou.^^'h he told her he hn.d '^cen licr brother Nonuan !it rv station by the way, and detained licr to y'wr her a nussa;.;(5 that ho liad sent. lie had sehooltd himself well, if lio Nvas really an unmoved by tue words of iNFrs. Koxburv and LiliaK as to his eousin he ft))peared to bo. But he was not a man who ht his t]i(»u,Lfht.s write themselves on his faee, and she might easily be deccivi'd. It was not a pleasant moment, it was a very bitter moment indeed, to him, when with n smilo to them, (Iraeme placcMl her hand on the willing arm of Mr. C.rccn, and walked away "like a queen" ho said to hiia- self, but to his eousin he sai followed them wilii her eyes, till they disajipf-ared through the door that led to the room beyond, and then she .said only, "I have made a great mislak*'." Had she made a mistake orhadhf? A mistake never to be undone, never outlived — a mistake foi- (iraeme, for him- 6(!lf, perha))s for Liliius too. It was not a 1 bought to bo borne, and he put it from him sternly, saying it eoiild : it have been (»therwise — nothing eould be ehanged now ; and he was very gentle and tender wit;h his little eousin that night p.nd afterwards, saying to himself that she, at le; \ should have no eause to grieve in the future, if liis lo. care for her eould avail. About tins time "Will, was threater.ed with a serious ill .a. It did not prove so serious as tlioy at ih-st feared, but it was long and tedious, and gave his eldest sister an exei . for deiiyin;,' herself to many wlio ealled, and aeeounted f.>r hei palo h)oks to those whom slie was obliged lo see. In the titlenco of her brothers siek-room, (Iraeme looked a great B«)rrow in the faee. In other cireumstanees, with the neee:*- Bity laid upon her to deceive otlu'j-s, she might for a timn baye deceived hereeli ; for the knowledge that ojio'h lovo lau! f o I I' !>.. I :v % M' 268 JANEt's love and 8KRVICI:. been given iinsougnt, in too bitter to bo ncccpUiH willingly. But tlic misery of those loug silent nights made phiiu to her what thefii'st Khar[) pang had failed to teach her. In the ih'fcit agony of her self-scorn, she saw herself without excuse. She was hard and bitter to herself. She might have known, she thought, how it was with Allan and his cousin. Dimng all those years in which she had been a stranger to them both, they had loved each other ; and now, with no thought of her, they loved each other still. It was natural that it should bo so, and ri<;ht. A\'hat was she, to think to couie between tliem with her love? She was veiy bitter to herself and mijust in her lirst misery, but her feeliiiL;- cluui;^ed. Her hoiu't rubclled against her own verdict. She had not acted an unmaidcnly part in the matter. Slie had never thought of harm conung to her, or to anyone, out of the pleasant intereomse of these months — the renewal of their old friendship. If she had simied agahist Lilias, it had \)con luieonsciously. She had never thought of these things in those days. If sho had only known him sooner, slie tliougl or not Ro soon, or not at all ! How snould she ever be al>le to see them, again in the old unrestrained way? How should sho be able to live a life changed and enii)ty «'f all ])le;'.!iure ? Then she grew bitter again, and e.iiled ha^solf luu'd names for her folly, in thiMkin-.^ ihut a change in one thing must change all her life. A\\)uld not the passing awt^y of tliis vain dream lenve her as rich in the love of l>rothors and sistor as over? Hitherto their love had sulHced for her haj[»pinc.3S, and it should j^till sulHce. The worKl neeil not be changed to her, because she hail wished ft a* one thing that she could not have. She could he freed from no dut^-, ab- solved from no obligation because of this pain ; it was u part of her life, which she nuist accipt and make the best 0^ an she did of aU other tilings (hat came ui)on her. As sho sat one night thinking ovrr tiu* past and the future, wearily enough, but witliout the i)()wer to withdraw her niiud from wh:it was yad in them, there suddL-nly came back to - > JANKTB LOVK AND BEBVICK, 209 10 .1-1 of m\ ii'.r lot it ab- ort QM ro, id to her one of Jiuict'a short, shjiri) speechcH, npoh^n in answer to a dccliiratioji half vexed) half mirthful, nuuh! by her in the davH when the mild Mr. Fohtcr had aspired to be more to her than a frit'iid. "My dear," she had said, "bide till yonr time eomcH. You arc l)ut a woman like the lave, and you maiui thole the brunt of what life may brinjjf. Love I Ay will you, and that with out leave askid or yiv»)i. And if you {,'et love for love, you'll thaiik <^Iod humbly for one of his best gifts ; and if you do not— well, lie can l)ring y(ju (hrou;^di without it, as lie has done many a one before. iJut nevvr think you can Cbcape your fate, and mako the best of it, when it coiiKis." "And HO mv fato has found me," muninu'cd (iraemo to herself. ^*This is p;irt of my life, and I must mako the best of it. "Well, he can brin;^' nm through, {5>i Janet said." "Graem(>," said WilJ., suddenly, "what are you thinking about?" Graeme started i)ainfully. Slu; had (piito forg •( u "WilL Those bright, wakeful c^yes of his had lieen on her many a time when she thought he waB usloop. "AMiat were you thinking about? You smiled first, then you sighed." " Did I y "Well, I was not aware that I was either smiling or sighing. I was thinking about Janet, ami about soiuo thing that she said to me once." She rose and arranged the pillo\\ s, stooping down to kisH her brother as she did so, and then she said sadly, "I am afraid you are not much better tonight, Will." " Yei4 ; I think I am better. Mv head is clearer. I have been watelhng yovu' face, (Iraeme, and tliiiiking how weary and ill you look." "lam tired Will., but not ill." Graeme did not like tho idea of hei' face having been watihed, but she spi»ko cheerfully. *' I have V»oon a great trouble to you," said Will. *'Yos, indetMl! a chva-lful trouble. I hope you aro not going to tiy my patience nuieh longer." I ' If 4 270 JANirr 6 LOVE AND 8EUVICR. " I don't knoyr. I hopn not, for your Bako." And then in a little AVill. added, ** Do yon knr)\v, CJraenio, I am hc^'inning to bo glad of thin ilbiesH after all.* Oraenu! lau<,died, "Well, if yon are f.(lad of it, I will try and bear it patiently a little longer I dareHay wo an; takin;jf the veiy best means to prolon*,' it, ehatterin;,' at tliiH unreasonable hour." "I am not Hleoi)y," Haid Will, "and I am not restless cither. I think I am really better, and it will do me f^ood to have a little talk ; but you arc tired." " I am tired, • ut I am not sleepy. BesideH, if you aro really better, I eaji Mleep for a week, if I like. »So, if it be a pleasure to you speak on." "What was it that Janet said tliat made you sij^h so th'carily just now? " asked AVill. (Jraeme would liave liked the conver.sation to take any othe'" turn rather than thai, but she said, gently, "i think my smile nuist have In (Mi for what Janet said. I am sure 1 laugh(Ml In aitily enougli wiien she said it to uie so long ago. I supj)oso I sighed to think that what she flaid has comci tnie." "AMiat was it, (Jraeme?" "Oh! 1 can hardly teii you — something !il)untt]ie ehanges tliat eomo to us as wo '(row older, and how vain \\> is to tliink wo ean avoid our fali'.' "Our fate'?" repeated Will. "Oh, yes! I mean there are troubles — and pleasures, too, that we ean't foresee — that iuVo us at unawares, and we have just to make tin* l^e^;t of them when they eome." "I don't think 1 «piite understand you, draemo." "No, I daresay not ; and it is not absolutely necessary that you should, — in the eonneetion. But I am sure a gi-eat many pleasant things that wo did not expcet, have happened to ua einee wo eanu^ here." "And was it thinking of those pleasiuit things that mado you sigh ? " ftsked \\'ill. "No I am afraid T was thinking of tho oUicr kind of o JANKl ri LOVK AND fiKUVICE. 271 yet. i( ri^'lirisos ; find I ilarcs.iy I had (jiiito as umcli ro;-ir;on to Hirilo ns to si<;li. Wo ciin't tell oiu' trials at lin:t si-^'lit, Will., iioi* o)ii' l.li^s:;Iiif;s ridicr. Tiino chaii'^c.-s tliiir fnn s woiidtil'ully tt) u^ a!i tho yoars fjo on. At any rato, JanctH advico ia ftlwavM apjiropriato ; \vu luunt niidvo tho best of them ^vhcn they conu.'." *' Yi'H," said Will., douhlfully ; ho did not (iiiito undcrHlauJ For instance, Will., you were disconHolato onon;nted. "I daro Hay it i-i ^ood for nie, thou;.;h I ean't nay I lik(! it, or tile headaelie. ]hit, (Iraenie, I did not ^^»t this elicok be- fore I n(>eded it. It is ^)leaHant to Im' llrKt, and I was be^nn- ninjjf to like it. Now this precious month tnkrn from me, at the time I needed it most, v, ill ])ut mo back. To bo Huro," uddt.'d he, with a di'preralin;jf };lanee, *' it is not much to bo lirst amoii'' ko few. ]Jut as Jaiiet used to sav, l*rido is an ill weed and {^a'ows easily — llourislus even J>n a baiTcn soil ; and in the pleasnro an 1 ( xcitcmeut of Htudy, it is not diffi- cult to for^^et that it i.s only a means to an ti»d." " Ye.s," Baid (iniem(>, "it is easy to for^-ct what we ought torenicmlx r." j'.ut it came into Will's mind that her sympatliy did not como HO readily as usual, that h' r tliou;,'hts were (.'iMewhcro, nn 1 he had a fcelin[,' that they wore such as ho was not to bo pennitte I to ttharo. In a littl<' lie naid, *' CSmemo, I shonld like very nnich to^'o home to Hcot'and." (Iraemt! roused hersrlf and iinswered eheerfuliv. Koon. Not f(U' tl in Buke of C'luyt member how Janet used to say, we are not so likely to seo all Hides of wliat we desire very mucli. Perhaps I desire it more for th(5 pleasure it would gave me, than for the beiiclit it might be to me. And then the expeiise. It would hv. too mncli to expect from Arthur." "But tluro is the IVrerloville money. It was meant for Arthur's edueation, and as he did not need it, it is yours." "No, tluit belongs to you and Boso. It would not bo right to take that." " Nonsense, AVill. M'liut is ours is yours; if the expenso wore all ! But I cannot bear to tliink of you going away, and Harry, loo, perha})s." " Rose tells me that T Tarry is more lunt on g'ing Wost tlmn ever." "Yes, within a few days ho has becomo i[\u\v o;iger about It. I cannot understand why he should bo so. ())i, I cannot fool liopefiil about it." "Arthur tliinks it maybe a good tiling for irmry," said AVill. " YoH, for Home tilings I suppoHo ro. But, oh ! Will., I could not let Harry go as I could let you, siu'e that ho would bo kept Hafe till—" (Jraenu^ laid her hviu\ down on her brotlier'n pillow, and tho tears she had beokon to Will, of her fears for Hany, but ho knew that they all had had cause for anxiety on hia JANET 8 LOVK AND flERVIOE. 273 acooiint, flo iiifltoivl of Hpoalciii«jf ho liiid liis arm over Iuh mHtcra neck. SlioHtni<,'i^lo(l with hrr^clf a in()ni«'iit, unahlc^ to Hpeak. "(Jraonio," Haid Will., soi'tlv, "wo cainiot kcc]) Hairy safo from t'vil, and Ho who can is ahlu to koop him Hafo thero ai well aH here." *' I know it ; I say it to niy-sclf twenty timoR a day. That is, I Kay it in wt)rdH ; but I do not seem to ^ct tho comfort I mi^dit from them." i "But, Crraemo, Harry has been very littlo away this win t<;r, and I had thou;,dit — " "I know, dear, and T have boon quito hopeful about him till lately. But, oh, Will. ! it won't bear talking about. Wo can only wait patiently." •'Ye.M, (Jraeme, we can pray and tniiit, and you aro cx- a^^'cratii'jjf to yourself Harry's d.;in;;t'r, I think. A\^iat has hap])ened to make you so faint-hearted, dear ?" " What should have ha[)pened, Will. J I am tired — forono thin;j^ — and somethin/jf is wron;^' I know." Sho ])aused to struf^'^^de with her tears. "Somehow, I don't I'eel so anxious about Harry as you do, Graeme. He will eomo back a^'aii\. I am sure this f^a-eat Hor- row is not waithi*,' you." Ho ])aused a moment, and then added, hesitatin;^ly, " I have had many thou;^'hts since I sat down here, (jraomo. I think one needs — it does one pfood, to make a j)auso to havo time to lo(>k back and to look forward. Thin;^'s chanj^o to us ; we ^'ot el(»arer and truer views of life, akjno in tho (kirk, with nothing' to wilh(b'aw our tlunij^dits from the ri;^dit and tho wroiiLj of thiii^js, and wo seem to seo moi'o clearly how true it is, that thou^^'h wo chan*>fo (lod never chan;^'es. We^'et c(jur- af?o to look our troubles fairly in tho face, when wo aro alono with (Jod and them." Still Clraonio said nothinf;, and Will, added, "Oraomo, you must take hope for Harry. And there is nothiuf^ else, is there? — nothinj,' that y(ju are afraid to look a* — nothing that you cvmiot Ining to tho ono place for li^jht and" help?" !■ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. 1.0 I.I 1^ M 2.2 UUI- 1.8 11 1 1.25 i.4 1.6 ^ 6" ► V] ' V 4^ ;\ \ ^\^ rv 6^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 <\ 2ri Janet's love and service. vm Blie did not answer for a niinuto. " No, Will., I ho]">o not. I think not. I daro,=iay — 1 am qiiito Sure that all will ]n for tlis host, and I shall seo at somo time. " Not another word was yaid till Graeme rose and drawin:^ aside the curtains, let in on them the dim da^Mi of a bleaL March morning. i In a few more days Will, was down stau-s again. Not in his accustomed corner among liin books, but in the armchair in the warmest place by the fire, made much of by Rose and them rU. It seemed a long time siiice he had been among them. A good many things had happened during the month that Graeme and he had pa ssod together up stairs. March, that had come in " like a lion " was hastenmg out " like a lamb ; " the sky was clear and the aii' was mild ; spiing was not far away. The snow lay still in sullied ridges in the nan*ow streets where the sun had httle power, and the mud lay deep in the streets where the snow^ had nearly disappeared. But tlic pavements were dry and clean, and in spite of dirty cross- ings and mud bespattering carriages, they were thronged with gay promcnaders, eager to welcome the sj)ruig. Those mho were weatherwi^je shook their heads, declaring that ha\> ing April m IMarch would ensiu'e March weather when April came, or it might be even in May. So it might prove, but there was all the more need, br'^ausc of this, that the most should be made of the sunshine and the mild air, and even their quiet street was quite gay with the meiTy goers to and fro, and it seemed to Will, and Graeme that more than a month had passed since his illness began. Harry had quite decided to go West now, and was as eager and ixnpatient to be gone as if he had all his life been dream- ing of no other futui-e than that which awaited him there. That he should be so glad to go, pained his sister as much as the tl ought of his going. That was at first, for ih did not take Graeme long to discover that Harry was not so gay as lie strove to appeal*. But her misgivings as to his departure "were none the less sad on that account, and it was with fv heavy heai't that she hstened to his lAauF^ :r Janet's love akt) service. 275 Perhaps it was in contrast to Harry's rather ostentatious tnii'th that his fi-icnd Chai^ho Millar seemed so veiy gi'ave on tlie fii'st night that Will, ventured to prolong liis stay among them after the gas had been hghted. Rose was grave, too, and not at ease, though she strove to hide it by joining in Hari-y's mirth. Charhe did not strive to hide his gi'avity, but sat silent and thoughtful after his fu'st gi-ectings were over. Even Hari'y's mirth failed at last, and he leaned back on the Bofa, shading his face with his hands. " I am afi-aid your brother would think us very ungrateful if he could see how badly we are thanking him for his great kindness to Harry." Graeme forced herself to say it. Allan's name had not been mentioned among them for days, and the silence, at fb'sl grateful, had come to seem straKgo and unnatural, and it made Graeme's cheeks • tingle to thmk v>hat might be the cause. So, lookmg uito Charhe's face with a smile, she spoke to him about his brother. But Charlie did not answer, or Graeme did not hear, and in a httle while she said again, " Is Mr. Ruthven still in town ? " " Oh ! yes. It is not likely he Avill leave again soon." " And your uncle is really recovering from his last attack ? What an anxious time Miss Eli^liinstone must have had 1 " " Yes, he seems better, and, central^ to all expectation, seems likely to Hve for some time yet. But his mind is much affected. At least it seems so to me." " Poor Lilias ! " said Graeme, " Is she still alone ? " " Oh, no. There is a houseful of them. Her aunt !Mrs. Roxbury is there, and I don't know how many besides. I declare, I thmk these vromen enjoy it." Graeme looked shocked. " Charhe means the preparations for the wcdduig," said Rose. " It is to take place soon, is it not ? " " Within the month I believe," said Charlie, gravely. " So soon !" said Graeme ; and in a httle she added, " Is it not sudden ? " "No — yes, I suppose so. They have been engaged, or •■| m i 1 > r .n 1 III I r': S 276 JANETS LOVE AND SERVICK something like it for some time ; but tlic liaste is because of Mr. Elphinstone. He thinks he cannot die happy till he sees his daughter safe under the care of her husband. Just as if Allan would not be her friend all the same. It seems to me like madners." *' And Lilias," said Rose, almost in a whisjoer, '*is she con- tent?" " On the Avholc, I suppose so. But this haste and her father being so ill, and all these horrid preparations are too much for her. She looks ill, and anything but cheerful." " We have not seen your brother for a long time," said Will. " I have scarcely seen him, cither. He did not find matters much to liis mmd in C. I fear. Hany will have to keep his eyes open among those people." " How soon will Hany have to go ? " asked Rose. " The sooner the l)ctter, I suppose," said Charlie, rising and wallving about. " Oh ! dear me. This is a miserable overtimi- ing that has come upon us — and everything seemed to be going on so smoothly." *' Harry will not have to go before Arthur comes back, I hope," said Rose. " I don't know, indeed. When does he come ? " " Charlie, man," said Hany, rising suddenly, " did I not hear you promising Crofts to meet him to night ? It is eight o'clock." '* No. I don't care if I never see Crofts or any of his set again. You had much better stay where you are Harry." " Charlie, don't be misanthropical. I promised if you did'nt. Come along. No ? Well, good night to you all. Will., it is lime you were in bed, your eyes are like saucers. Don't sit Up for me, Graeme." Graeme had no heart to remonstrate. She felt it would do no good, and he went away leaving a very silent party behind him. Charhe lingered. When Graeme came down Btairs after seeing WiU. in his room she found him still Bitting opposite Rose, silent and grave. He roused himself JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. 277 set )uld lartjT lowu I still self as she entered. Graeme would gladly have excused him, but she took a seat and her work, and j-rcparcd to be entertain- ed. It was not an easy matter, thou^^di Charlie had the best will in the world to be entertaining, and Graeme tiied to re- spond. She did not thmk of it at the time, but afterwards, when Charlie was gone, she rcmeml^orcd the sad wistful look with whi(.^i Jie lad had regarded her. Rose too, hwig about her, saying nothing, but with eyes full of something to r* hich Graeme would not respond. One angry thi'ob stirred her heart, but her next thoughts were not in anger. " These foolish young people have been di*eaming dreams about Allan and me, — and I nuist undeceive them — or de- ceive them — " " Graume," said Tlose, softly, " if either of us wait for liar- r}' it must be me, for you are very tu'cd." '• Yes, I am very tii"cd." " CharHe said, pcrhai^s ho would take Harry home with him. Should we wait ? " said l\ose. " No. He may not come. We will not wait. I shall sleep 7iear Will. He cannot spare me yet. Now go love." She kissed the troubled face upturned to her, but woidd suffer no hngermg over the good-night. She was in no haste to go herself, however. She did not mean to wait for Har- ry, but when two hours had passed, she was stiU sitting where Rose had left her, and then Harry came. But oh ! the misery of that home coming. Graeme must have fallen asleep, she thought, for she heard nothing tiU the door opened, and then she hoard Harry's voice, thick and internipted, thankmg some-one, and then stupidly insisting on refusing all further help. "Never mind, gentlemen — I can manage — thank you." There were two persons with him, Charlie Millar was one of them. "Hush, Harry. Be quiet, man. Ai'e you mad? You will waken your sister." The light which some-one held behind them, flushed for a moment on Graeme's pale face. » '•?„ ■■% r Mil, § 2?w Janet's love and sjaiviCE. "Obi Miss Elliott," Hiiid Charles, "I tried to keep liim tvith mc. He is mad, I think Be quicst, Harry." Harry quite incapaljle of "walking straight, struggled to free himself and staggered tow.ird his sister. " I knev/ you ■would sit up, Graeme — though I told you not — and so I came home." " Of course, you did right to come homo. Bat hush, Har- ry I you will waken "Will." "Oh! yes! Poor Will!" ho mumbled. "Bui Graeme what ails you, that you look at me with a face like that?" " Miss EUiott," entreated Charlie, " leave him to us, you can do nothing with him to-night." She went up stairs before them carrying the hght, ar,d held firmly the handle of Will's door till they passed. Hhc stood there in the darlmess till they came out again and went dovm. stairs. Poor Harry lay muttering and mumbling, en treating Graeme to come and see him before slio went to bed. When she heard the door close she went dov/n again, not into the parlor where a light still burned, but into tlio darkness of the room beyond. " Oh Harry ! Harry ! Harry ! " she cried, as she sank on her knees and covered her face. It was a dark hour. Her hope, her faith, her trust in God — all that had been her strength and song, from day to day, was forgotten. The bitter waters of fear and grief passed over her, and she was well nigh overwliehned. " Oh j)apa ! mamma ! Oh Hany ! Oh! my Httlo brothers.*" "Miss Elliott," said a voice that made her heart stand still, " Graeme, you rnunt let me help you now." She rose and turned toward him. "Mr. Ruthven ! I was not aware — " said she, moving to- ward the door through wliich hght came from the parlor. *' Miss Elliott, forgive me. I did not mean to intrude. I niet yam' brother and mine by chance, and I came v.iiii thcia. You must not think that I — " "Thank you, vou are verv kind.' M JANET'c) love AJfD SEEVICE. 27!S Graomo was tremblbig greatly and sat down, but rose a;,,am immediately. " You arc very kind," repeated she, scarcely knowing what elio said. " GJraemc," .said ]Mi'. Iiutliven, " you must let mo hcli^ you in this matter. Ti.ll me ^Yllat you wish. ]Mu8t Hany stay or go?" Graeme sank down with a cry, wrhiging her hands. '■'OhIHarry! Harry!" Mr. Ruthvcn made one stej^ toward her. " IVIiss EUiott, I dare not say to you that you think too severely of Harry's faulh But he is young, and I do not really fear for him. And you have more cause to be hopeful than I. Think of your father, and — yoiu' father's God. Graeme, be siu'e Harry will come back to you agam." Graeme sat still with her head bowed down. "Graeme — Miss Elliott. Tell nic what you would have mo do." Graeme rose. " You arc very kind," she repeated. *• I cannot think to- night. "\Vc must wait— till Arthur comes home." He went up and down the room several times, and then came and stood by her side again. " Graeme," said he, in a low voice, "let me hear you once say, that you beheve me to be your true and faithful friend." " Why should I not say it, Allan. Y"ou are my true and faithful friend, as I am yoiu's." Her voice did not tremble, and for a moment she calmly met liis eye. He tmiicd and walked away, and when he came back again he held out his hand and said, " Good-night." ** Good-night," said Graeme. *' -Ajid you will see about Harry — what you wish for him." "Yes. Good%e." He raised the hand he held to his lips, and then said, ♦ Good-bve." 18 ^ f ■11 ^'^^m s CHAPTER XXVI. THE next few dajH were weary ones to aU. Will, had reaclicd that stage of convalescence in which it was not easy to resign himself to utter idleness, and yet he had not strength to bo able to occupy himself long without fatigue ; and in the effort to amuse and interest him, Graeme's spmts flagged sadly. She looked so exhausted and ill one day when the doctor came in, that he declared that Will, must be left to the tender mercies of Eose, while her sister went first for a walk m the keen morning air, and tlien to her room for the rest of th(> day. It is possible that solitude and her own thoughts did Graeme less good than attendance on Will, would have done, but doctors camiot be supposed to know ^A'ci'jihing ; and even had he known all there was to account for her hot hands and pale cheeks, it is doubtful whether his skill eould have suggested anything more to the j)m'j)ose than his random prescription was. At any rate, Graeme was thank- ful for a few days' quiet, whether it was good for her or not ; and in the mean time Rose and Will, got on very well without her. And Harry — poor, unhappy, repentant Harry, trj'ing under A mask of sullen indifference to hide the shame and misery ho felt at the remembrance of that night>— these were di'eary days to him. Graeme never spoke to him about that night. She had not the courage, even if she had felt not that it would be better not to do so. The pre2:)arations for his departui*e went on slowly, though it Avas becomuig doubtful whether he should go West filter alL Ho said little about it himself, but that little it was not pleasant for Graeme to hear. Much to the SHrprise of everyone, and to tlio extreme iii' MBwm m- Janet's love and seuvioe. 281 dilation of Harry, Mr. Kutlivcn had again left, town, saying nothing of liis destination or the length of his stay, only in very brief fashion^ telling him to make no further aiTangc mentsfor his departiu'e until his return. " He does not trust nie. He does not think me fit to take charge of his aftau's,"' said Harry to himself, with his vague remembrance of Allan's share in the events of that miserable night, he could liartUy wonder that it should bo so, and in his shame and impatience ho was twenty times on tho point of breaking his connection with his employers, and going his own \vay. However, he forced himself to wait a little. . " If I am sent West after aU, well and good. If not I shall remain no longer. The change of arrangements will be sufficient excuse, at least I will make it so. I can't stay, and I won't. If he would but come back and put an end to it all." And Hariy was not the only one who was hnpaticnt under the unreasonable absence of Mr. Euthven. Poor Mr. El- phmstone, ill and irritable, suffered not an hour to pass ■\^-ithout vexing himself and others, wondering at, and lamenting his delay. Lilias had nnich ado to keep him fi'om saying angry and bitter things about his nephew, and exa,ggerated the few details she had gathered with regard to their recent losses, in order to account to him for Allan's mi- timely devotion to business. Poor girl, she looked sad and ill in these days, and grew irritable and mireasonable amid the preparations of Mrs. lloxbury, in a way that shocked and alarmed that excellent and energetic lad3^ She considered it a very equivocal proof of Lihas' love to her father, that she should be so averse to the carrying out of his exprcf.s wishes. There had been nothing that is proper on such an occasion," and Mrs. Roxbury seemed l^ent on fulfilling his wishes to the very letter. So, at last, Lilias was fain ior the sake of peace to grow patient and grateful, and staid more and more closely in her father's room, and her aunt had her will in all things that concerned the wedding, that under such TOolancholv cireum.sl uncos wa:i drawing nosir. I i ■ ^ § m U, 1 ,1:, ,i til 282 JANET 8 LOVE ANX> BLTIVICE. " Graeme," Biiid Fany, one iiij^lit, wLeii they were sitting* together after tlio rest had nil gone up stairs, " don't you think ^vo have been uncomfortable long enough ? Don't you tliiiik you have given us enough of that miKorablc, hopel(!ss fjice for one occasion ? I think a change would bo agreeable to all concerned. It would to me, at any rate." ( Graeme waa so startled at this speech, that for a little she could not say a word. Then she said sometliing about being tired and not very well — and about its being impossible always to help one's looks. " Why don't you say at once that it is I who have made you so misoraV)le — that you have lost all faith in me — that I am going straight to nun. That is what you mean to say — you know very wdV " Harry," said she, gently, *' I did not mean to say any- thing unkind." Harry left his seat, and threw himself on tlio sofa with a groan. " If you would only rate a fellow sound! y, Graeme ! If you would only tell me at once, what a weak', pitiful wretch you think rae ! I could bear that ; but yoiu* silence and that miserable face, I cannot bear." " I cannot say I think }'ou weak or pitiful, Harry. It would not be true. And I am afraid you would not Hke my rating better than my silence. I can only say, I have had less com*age in thuiking of your going away to fill an impor- tant and responsible situation, since that night." Harry groaned. " Oh ! well ; don't bother yourself about my going away, and my responsibilities. The chances are some one else will have to fill the important situation." " Have you seen — has Mr. Ruthven returned ? " "IVIr. Ruthven has retiu-ned, and I have seen him, but 1 have not spoken with him. It was not his will and pleasm-e to say anything to-night about that which has been keeping me in such miserable suspense. He was engaged, forsooth, ■5 I 4 mmimm wn jankt's lovk and servick. 283 It iko lad )or- Ivill bth, ^'hrn a moinont i 3iil(l have settled it. "Well, it docs not matter. I Khali take the deeision into luy own hands." " ^Vhat do you mean, Hariy ? " "I mean, I Hhall f;ivo up my situation if he does not send mo West, — if he hesitates a moment about sendin^^^ me, I shall leave his employment." "But why, IlanyV" " Because — because I am determined. Huthven does not think me fit to bo entrusted with the management of his afl'airs, I sujipose." *' Harry," said In.i sister, gi'avoly, *' is it surprising if ho does not?" "Well, if I am not to bo trusted tliere, neither am I to bo tiiisted here, and I leavo. Graeme, you don't know what you are talking about. It is quite absiu'd to suppose that what happened that night would make any difference to Allan lluthven. You think him a saint, but trust me, ho, knows by experience how to make allowance for that sort of thing. If ho has n'^hing worse than that against any one in his em- ployment, he may think himself fortunate." " Then, why do you say he does not tnist you ? " " I shall call it sufdcient evidence that he does not, if ho di'av/s back in this. Not that I care much. I would rather be in the employment of some one else. I shall not stay hero." "Harr^'," said Graeme, coming quite close to the sofa on which he had thrown himself, " what has happened between you and Allan Euthven." "Happened! What should have happened? Wliat an absui'd question to ask, Graeme." " Harry, v^hj are you so determined to leave him ? It was not so a little while ago." "Was it not? Oh, well! I daresay not. But one wants a change. Ono gets tired of the same dull routine always. Now, Graeme," added ho, as she made an incredulous gesture, " don't begin to fancy any mystery. That would bo too ab- Burd, you know." h «; f. 284 JANET rt LOVE ANT) BEIiVICK. Graomo cnmo and knelt closo l)osiilc liim. His tica vrnn turned away ho that .she could not see it. Her own was very pale. "IlaiTy, Hpealf to nio. Do you believe that Allan lliitliveu is othcrwiKO than an honorable and uj^ri^flit p^entleman i'l businoHH and — in other matterw? Tell mo, Hairy." "Oh, yes! as j^entlemen go. No, Clracmo, that is not right. I believe hini in all tlungs to be upri^rht and lionorabl(\ I think more higlily of him than I did at lirst. It is not that." I'hc color came slowly back to (Jraeme's face. It Mas evi- dent that Hariy had no foolish thoughts of her and Allan. In a little she said, * And you, HaiTy — you have not — you are — " "I lioj^e I am an honoral)lo man, Graeme," said Hany, gravely. "There is nothing between INIr. lluthven and mo. I mean, ho does not wish me to leave him. But I must go, Graeme. I cannot stay hero." " Harry, why ? Tell mo." Graeme laid her hand caress- ingly on his hair. "It is nothing that I can tell," said Hany, huskily. " Harry — even if I cannot help it, or remove it — it is bet- ter that I should know what is maldng you so unhappy. Harry, is it — it is not Lihas ?" He did not answer her. " Harry, Hany 1 Do not say that this gToat sorrow has fallen upon us, ujion you, too." She drew back that he might not feel how she was trem- bling. Li a little she said, " Brother, speak to me. What shall I say to you, my poor Harry?" But Harry was not in a mood to be comforted. He rose and confronted her. "I think the most appropriate remark for the occasion would be that I am a fool, and deserve to suffer for my folly. You had better say that to me, Graeme." But something iu. his sister's face stopped him. His lips trembled, "nd he said, \_ JAN'IMH LOVE AND RKIIVK'K. 285 "At any rate, it irjii't ^vorth youv lookiiifj so miflcrablo nix nit." "HiikIi, TFiiiT •, ' wliispcrcd h\u\ iiiul h" felt lior tours (1i'0i> pin^' on lii.s liaiids. "And LiliiisV" "Graoiiic, I do not know. I never Rpoko lo her, Imt T hoped — I bclioved (ill lately — ." Jle laid liis hoar than her hopes. Best give him into God's kcepuig and let him go, she thought. " But he must not leave 'Mr. Euthven. That will make him no better, but worse, lie must not go irom us, not knowing whither. Oh, I wish I laiew what to do !" The next day the decision was made. It would not bo true to say that Harry was quite calm and at his ease tliat morning, whs^n he obeyed a summons mtv) Mr. Iluthvcn's private room. There was more need for Charlie's " keep cool, old fellow," than Charlie knew, 2ov Ilan-y had that morning told Graeme that before he saw her face again ho would know whether he was to go or stay. In spite of bimself he felt a little soft-hearted, as he thought of what might be the result of his uitcrview, and he was glad that it was not his friend AUan, but Mr. lluthvcn the merchant, brief and bushiess-hke in all ho said, whom ho found awaiting him. lie was busy with some one else when Harry entered, talld?]g coolly and rapidly on business matters, and neither voice nor manner changed as he tm'iicd to him. There was a good deal said about matters that IlaiTy thought might very well have been kept till another time ; there were notes compared and letters read and books exam- ined. There were some allusions to past transactions. !u- qiuries and directions, all in the fewest possible words, and in the quietest manner. Ilany replied, assented and suggested, making all the time the strongest elibrt to appear as there was nothing, and could be nothing, beyond these dull di^tails to interest him. There came a pause at last. Mr. I uthvcn thd not say in words that he need not wait any longer, but his manner, as ho looked up, and turned over a number of letters that had just been brought in, said it plainly. Indeed, he turned ciuite away from him, and seemc^d absorbed in his occupation. Hany waited tiU the lad that brought in the letters had mended the fire, and fidgeted about the room, and gone out .1 ;.- :r , f- ■■Ml I %^ 'jiiil 288 JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. again ; tlioii 1il aid, in a voice that ought to have been quiet and firm, for he took «i gi'eat deal of pains to make it so, " Mr. Ruthvcn, may I trcsx^a«3 a moment on yoiu' valuable time now ? " Mr. Kuthvcn immediately laid his letters on the iahle, a^id turned round, Harry thought, like a man who found it neccs- saiy to address himself, onne for all, to the perfonnance of an unpleasant duty. Certainly, he had time to attend to anything of importance that Mr. Elliott might have to feay. •' It is a matter of great importance to mr, and I have been led to suppose that it is of some consequence to you. The Western agency " "You are right. It is of great consequence to the firm. There is, perhaps, no immediate necessity for deciduig " " I beg your pardon, sir, there is absolute necessity for my knowing at once, whether it is your plea=5ure that I should be ^imployed in it." " Wni a single day make much difference to you ? " said Mr. Ruthven, looking gravely at the young man, who was certainly not so calm as he meant to be. " Excuse me, sir, many days have passed since. — But, IVIr. Huthvcn, it is better I should spare you the pain of saying thr you no longer consider me fit for the situation. Allow me, then, to mform you that I wish — that I no longer wish to remain in your employment." " Hany," said Mr. Ruthvcn, gTavely, "does your brother — does your sister know of your deshe to leave me r "Would they approve, if you were sent West ? " " Pardon me, IVIi-. Rntliyen, that question need, not be dis- cussed. I must be the best judge of the matter. As for them, they were at least reconciled to my going when you — drew back/' Mr. Ruthven was evidently uncomfortable. He took up his bundle of letters again, murmuring something about their Qot wishing it now. ** I understand you, sir," said Harry, with a very pale face. *iu JANICT S LOVE AND SERVICE. 289 " Allow mo to say that as soon as you can supi)ly my place — or at onco, if 3'ou like — I iiiiist go." Bnt Mr. llutlivcn was not listening to him. Pic had tnrncd over his letters till a little note among them attracted his at- tention, lie l)roke the scal^ and road it while Harry was speaking. It was veiy brief, only three words and one initial letter. " Lot Harry go. Ho road it, and folded it, and laid it down with a sigh. Then ho turned to Harry, just as he was laying liis hand on the door. " What is it, Harry? I did not hoar what you were saving." "I merely said, sir," said Harry, turning round and facing him, " that as soon as you can supply my lAace in the olllicc, I shall consider myself at liberty to go." " But why should you wish to go ? " " There are several reasons. One is, I shall never stay any- where on sufferance. If I am not to be ti*usted at a distance, I shall certainly not stay to give my employers the trouble of keeping ai. eye upon me." His own eye flashed as he spoke. " But, HaiTy, man, that is nonsense, you know. " It was not his master, but his friend, that spoke, and HaiTy was a little thrown off his guard by the change in his tone. "I do not think it is nonsense," said he. " Harr}", I have not been thinking of myself in all this, nor of the interests of the fiini. Let me say, once for all, that I should consider them perfectly safe in your hands, in all re- spects. Han-y, the world would look darker to me the day I could not trust vour father's son." Harry made no answer. " It is of you I have been thinking, in the hesitation that has seemed so um-easonable to you. Harry, when I think of the home you have here, and of the wretched changed life that awaits you there, it seems selfish — wrong to wish to Bend you away." \A t< i i 200 Janet's love and service. HaiTy made a gcsturo of dissent, and muttered some tiling about the impossibility of staying always at home. "I know it, my lad, but tlic longer you can stay at homo — such a home as youi's — the better. When I think of my own life there, the first miserable years, and all the evil I have seen since . Well, there is no use in going over all that. But, Harry, it v/ould break yoar sister's heart, were you to change into a hard, selfish, worldly man, like the rest of us." There was nothing Harry could say to this. *SSo many fail in the struggle — so many are changed or ruined. And, dear lad, you have one temj^tation that never was a temptation to me. Don't bo angry, Harry," for HaiTy started and gi-ew red. " Even if that is not to be feared for you, there is enough besides to make you licsitate. I have known and proved the world. What we call success in life, is not worth one approving smile from your sister's lips. And if you should fall, and be trodden down, how should I ever answer to her ? " He walked up and dovvii the room two or tln*eo times. "Don't go, Harry." For Harry had risen as though ho thought the interview was at an end. *' You said, just now, that you must decide for youi'self, and you shall do so. But, consider well, and consult your brother and sister. As for the interests of the firm , I have no fear." "I may consider it settled then," said Hany, huskily. " Arthur was always of opinion that I should go, and Graeme is willhig now. And the sooner the better, I suppose ? " " The sooner the better for us. But there is time enough. Do not be hasty in deciding." "I have decided akeady. I thank you, sir, " He hesitated, hardly knowing what to say more. " I hope it will prove that you will have good reason to thank me. Remember, Hany, whatever comes out of this, you left us with my full and entire confidence. I do not be- lieve I shall have cause to regret it, or that you will fail mo or disappoint me." li;'* JANET S LOVE AKD SERVICE. 201 HaiTy gi'aspcd the hand held out to him without a ■worJ, but iii-warcUy ho voweil, that coinc what might, the confidence BO generously expressed should never, for good cause, be with- dra^^"n. And so the decision was made. After this the preparations did not occupy a long time. Tiic second day found Hairy ready for departure. " Graeme," said Harry, "I cannot be content to take away with me such a melancholy remembrance of your face. I shall begin to tliink you are not willmg that I should go after all." " You need not thinlc so, HaiTy. I am sure it is best sinco you arc determined. But I cannot but look melancholy at the necessity. You would not have me look jo^-ful, when I lun going to lose my brother? " " No — if that were all. But 3'ou have often said how im- possible it was that we should ahvays keep together. It is only what we have been expecting, and wo might have i)arted in much more tiding cu-cumstances. I shall be honiA often — once a year at the least ; pcrhap>s oftener." " Yes, dear, I know." "Well, then, I think there is no cause for giief in my going, even if I were worthy of it, which I very much doubt." Graeme's face did not brighten. In a little while her tears were falling fast. " Graeme, what is it? There is some other reason for your tears, besides my going away. You do not tiaist me Graeme, you are afi'aid." Graeme made an effort to quiet herself. " Yes, Harry, I am a little afraid, since you give me the opportunity to say so. You have hardly been our ovm. Hariy for awhile, as you know, dear. And what will yov be when you are far fi'om us all ? I am afraid to let you go fi'om niC; Harry, far more afraid than I should be for Will." HaiTy rose and walked about a while, with an air that eeomed to be indignant; but if he was angry, he thought f . •' il * ii.. i; 1 -i .1 292 JANET 8 LOVE AND SEEVICE. better of it, and in a little he came and sat down beside hia Bistei'j again. "I wish I could make you quite satis/ied about mo, Graeme." " I -svish you could, dear. I will try to be so. I daresay Tou think me unreasonable, HaiTy. I know I am tired, and foolish, and all wrong," said she, ti-ying in vain to keep back her tears. " You look at this moment as though you had very httle hope in anything," said Harry, with a touch of bitterness. " Do I ? AVell, I am all wrong, I kno^^^ There ought to be hoi)e and comfort too, if I sought them right. I will try to leave you m God 's keeping, Hany, the keeping of our father's and om' mother's God." Hariy thi-ew hi'" self on his knees beside her. " Graeme, you are making yom'self unhappy without cause. If you only knew! Such things are thought nothing of. If I disgraced myself the other night, there are few young men of oiu' acquaintance who are not disgi'aced." Graeme put her hand upon his lips. *' But, Graeme, it is true. I miist speak, I can't bear to have you fretting, when there is no cause. Even Allan Ruth- ven thought nothing of it, at least, he " " Hush, Harry, you do not need Mr. Ruthven to be a con* science to you. And it is not of the past I am thinking, but the futui'C. How can I bear to think of you going the way so many have gone, knowing the danger all the greater be- cause you feel yourself so safe. I am afraid for you, HaiTy." It was useless to speak, she knew that quite well. The words of another can never make danger real, to those who are assailed with poor Hariy's temptation. So she shut her lips close, as he rose from her side, and sat in silence ; while he walked up and down the room. By and by he came back to her side, again. " Graeme," said he, gi*avely. " Indeed, you may trust me. The sliame of that niglit shall never be renewed. You shall -^.. Janet's love and service. 293 * :'l never liavo the same cause to be soiTy for me, or ashamed of me again." She put her arms romid his neck, and hiid her head do^vn on his shoulder, but slio did not speak. It was not that she was altogether hopeless about her brother, but HaiT3^ imderstood it so. " Graeme, what shall I say to you ? How shall I give you courage — faith to trust rae ? Graeme, I proniisc, that till I Bee you again I shall not taste nor touch that which so de- graded me in , 'oiu* eyes. I solcnmly promise before God, Graeme." *' Harry," said his sister, " it is a vow — an oath, that you have taken." " Yes, and it shall be kept as such. Do you trust me, Graeme? Give me that comfort before I go away." " I trust yon, Harry," was all she had voice to say. She clasped him and kissed him, and by and Ijy she prayed God to bless him, in words such as his motlier might have used. And Harry vowed, with God's help, to be tnic to liimself and her. Ho did not speak the words again, but none the less was the vow registered in H( r ven. That was the real farewell Ijctween the brother and sister. Next morning there was little said by any one, and not a word by Graeme, but the last ghixipse Harry had of home, showed his eldest sister's face smihng and hopeful, saying aa plainly as her words had snid before, " Harry, I trust you quite." i < \ t\ M I CHAPTER XXV II. iP^y^HE brilliant snulight of a Scptonibcr morning waq I shining full into the little breakfast room, wliero Graeme sat at the head of the table, awaiting the coming of the rest. The morning paper was near her, but she was not reading; her hands were clasped and rested on the table, and she was looking straight before her, seeing, probably, further than the pale green w:dl, on which the sunshine fell so pleasantly. She was gi'ave and quiet, but not in the least, sad. Indeed, more than onco, as the voices of Eoso and Arthur came sounding down stairs, a smile of unmistakable cheerfulness overspread her face. Prcsentl}'', Arthur entered, and Graome made a movement among her cups and saucers. "Yoiu' trip has done you good, Graeme," said Ai*thur, as he sat down opposite to her. " Yes, indeed. There is nothing like the sea breezes, to freshen one. I hardly' know myself for the tu'ed, exhausted creatm'e you sent away in Jmic." Graeme, Eose, and AVilL, had passed the summer at Cacou- na. Nellie had gone with them as housekeeper, and Ai-thur had shut the house, and taken lodgings a Utile out of town for the summer. "I am only afi'aid,"' added Graeme, "that all our pleasure has been at the expense of some discomfort to you." "By no means, a change is agTceable. I have enjoyed the summer very much. I am glad to get home again, how- ever." ^ " Yes, a change does one good. If I was only quite at ease about one thing, we might have gone to MerleviUe, id- JAi^ET's LOVE AND BERVICE. 2!)5 btead of Cacouna, and that woiUd have given Janet and a good many othors plcasiu'o." * "Oh! I don't know," said Arthiu'. " Tho good people there must have forgotten ns by this time, I fancy. There ai'e no sea breezes there, and they were what you needed." " Arthur ! Janet forgotten us ! Never, I am quite sure of that. But at the time it seemed impossible to go, to make the effort, I mean. I quite shrunk fi'om the thought of Merle- ville. Indeed, if you had not been Ih'm, I fear I should not have had the sea breezes." "Yes. You owe me tha' ks. You needed the change. What with Will.'s iUness, and Harry's going away, and one thing and another, you were quite m need of a change." "I was not well, certainly," said Graeme. "Will, has gone to the pont, I suppose ?" " Yes," said Rose, who entered at the moment. " I see him coming up the street." " As for Rosle," said Ai-thm*, looking at her gxavcly, as she sat down. " She has utterly ruined her compliixion. Such freckles ! such sunbuming ! tmd how stout she has grown !' Rose laughed. "Yes, I know I'm a fright. You must brmg me some- thmg, Ai'thur. Toilette vinegar, or something." " Oh ! it would not signify. You arc quite beyond all that." " Here comes Will., with a letter for each of us, I declare." Arthur's letter was soon despatched, a mere business mis- sive. Graeme's was laid down beside her, while she poured Will's coffee. Rose read licr's at once, and before she was well down the first page, slie uttered a cry of delight. "Listen all. No, I won't read it just yet. Arthur, don't you remember a conversation that yon and I had together, soon after Sandy was here ?" " Conversation," repeated Arthur. " Wo have talked, that is, you have talked, and I have listened, but as to conversa tion " " But Arthui', don't you remember saving something pbout Emily, and I did not agree with you ?" 1 : ■i « i ■ 4h r 200 JANETS LUVL AND SEIIVICE. " I liavo said a ^^rcat many tiiiics, that I thou{*lit Emily a very pretty little creature. If you dou't agi-ee, it bLowb bad taste." " I quite agi'ee. I think her beautiful. She ia not vei7 little, however. She is nearly as tall as I am." " What is it, Hose V" asked Graeme, stretching out her hand for the letter. " You '11 si)oil yoiu' news, with your long preface," said Will " No, but I want Ai-thur to confess that I am wisest." " Oh ! I can do that, of coui'se, as regards matters in gen- eral; but I should like to hear of this particular case." " "Well, don't you renieniljer saying, that you did not think Sandy and Emily woukl ever fall in love ?" "I remember no such assertion, on my part. On the con- fcrary, I remember feeling pretty certain, that the mischief was 'done ah*eady, as far as Sandy was concerned, poor fellow; and I remember saving much to your indignation, ' more 's the pity.' " " Yes ; and I remember you said it would bo just like a sentimental little blue, Hko Emily, to slight the handsome, hearty young farmer, and marry some pale-faced Yankee professor." " You put the case a little strongly, perhaps, said Arthur, laughing. " But, on the whole, tliat is the way the matter stood. That was my opinion, I confess." "And they arc going to be married!" exclaimed Graeme and Will, in a breath. " How glad Janet will be !" " Emily does not say so, in so many words. It won't bo for a long time yet, they are so young. But I am to be brides-maid when the time comes." " Well, if that is not saying it !" said Will, laughing. " ^^^lat would you have, Rosie ?" Graeme ox^cned and read her letter, and laid it down bc- Bide her, looking a little pale and anxious. " What is it, Graeme ? Nothing wrong, I hope." "No i I hope not. I don't know, I am sure. Nonnan Bays he is going to bo manicd." JANET^B LOVE AND SEllVICt:. m leine It bo bo bc- " Mamcd !" cried Rose and Will. " To Hilda ?' said Artluu\ " Yes ; but how could you have guessed ?" said Grarmo bewildered. " I did not guess. I saw it. "Why it was quite easy to bo seen that events have been tending toward it all those years. It is all very lino, this brother and sister intercourse ; but I have been quite sui*e about thcni since Hariy wrote about them." "Well, Norman seems surprised, if you arc not. Ho says, * You will be very much astonished at all this ; but you cannot bo more astonished than I was myself. I did not tliink of such a thing ; at least, I did not know that I waa thinking of such a thing till young Conway, my fiiend, asked permission to addi'css my sister. I was very indignant, though, at fii'st, I did not, in the least, know why. How- ever, Hilda hel]:)ed me to find out all about it. At fii'st I meant she should spend the winter with you all. I want very much that you should know each other. But, on the whole, I think I can't spare her quite so long. Expect to see us therefore in November — one flesh!'" There was much more. " Well done, Norman !" cried Ai-thiu'. " But, Graeme, I don't see what there is to look grave about. She seems to be a nice little thing, and Norman ought to know his owr mind by this time." " She's a great deal more than a nice little thing," said Graeme earnestly. " If one can judge by her letters and by Harry's description of her — to say nothing of Norman's opinion — she must be a very superior person, and good and amiable besides. But it seems so strange, so sudden. Why, it seems only the other day since Norman was such a mero boy. I wish she could have passed the winter with us. I think, perhaps, I should write and say so." " Yes, if you hke. But Norman must judge. I think it is the wisest thing for him. He will have a settled home." I dc believe it is," said Graeme^ earnestly. " I am very I t '••1 I^K'K i CU ,r 808 JANRi'u LOVK AND Br.RVIOlC. glad — or I bIihH bo in a little. But, junt at firfit, it soema A little OH though Nurniun would not bo quito ho iiuicli onn of Ufl — you know — and bcHidcH thcro really is Hoinetliinj^ odtl in tbo idoa (^f NonnauH beinj^ married ; now, i.s there not?" "IconfesH I fall to hco it," said Arthur, a littlo sharply. Graemo had hardly tinio to notice his tone. Au exclama- tion from "Will, startled her. " What is it, AVill. ?" said Rose. "Another weddinpj?" " You '11 never giiess, P )Hio. Never. You need not try." ** Is it Han-y this time ?" said Arthur, lookhi^' iii from tho liall with his hat on. " No. Listen, Arthur ! Harry says, ' "What is this that Air. (Irecn has been tolhn.^ mo about Arthur and little IMias Grove? I was gi'catly aiimsod at the idea of their mutual adnuration. IMr. Cireen assiu'cs mo that ho has tho best authority for saying that Arthiu' is to cirry off the lieiress. Charlie, too, has hinted somethinjjf of tho same kind. Tell Graeme, when that happens, I shall expect her to come and keei) my house.'" " They said Mr. Green was gohig to caiTy off the heii'css himself!" exclaimed liose. *' Listen I" continued "Will. " ' Unless, indeed, Graemo should make up her mind to smile on j\Ir. Green and take possession of tho " palatial residence," of which ho has just laid the foundation near C .' " " Hero is a bit for you, Graeme. Nobody is to be left out, it seems. It ^-ill be your turn next, Rosic," said Arthm*, as ■he went away laughing. ' "But that is all nonsense about Ai'thur and Httlo Miss Grove ?" said Rose, half questioningly. " I should think so, indeed ! Fancy Ai'thur coming to that fate." said Graemo. " That would be too absurd." And yet the thought came imcalled several times that day, and her repetitions of " too absiu'd," became very energetic in her attem^^ts to drive it quito away. Tho thought was unpleasantly recalled to her when, a day or two after, she Baw her brother standing beside the Grove caniago, appa 'ivs JA:iEi 8 LuVi: AND SERVICE. 209 [t ont, Mis3 tliat |t day, .nretic [t was |r, slie lappa rcntly so iiitcrcstcd in lilii convorHatiuii with tho pretty Faiuiy that hIio and Uoso passed (luito cloio to Ihcin unobscrvciL It was rccallod more unpleasantly still, l»y the ohli.-^'iii;,' caro of Mrs. (Iridloy, who way ono uf their first visitors uftor theif return. Tho Grovo carriu,i;o i)assed as sho sat with thoni and, noddinf,' si;,''iiilicantly toward it, sho said : '•I don't know whether I ou^ht to conyraluluto you or Bjmputliizo with you." ( Iraenic laughed, but she vras vcit much afraid she changccl color, too, as she answered : " There is no haste. AVhon you nialco up your mind as to which will bo most appropriate, you ^vill be in time." *' Ah ! you arc not to commit yourself, I sec. Well, you arc (piite rij^'ht. She is a harmless little person, I lu'lievo, and may tiu'u out very well if withdrawn from tho inlluenco of her Btepjnolher." Something' in (Iraeme's manner stopped tho voluble lady more effectually than words could have done, and a rather abrupt turn was f^-iven to the conversation. Lut Graeme could not forget it. Not that she beli(!ved in tho truth of what IMrs. Gridley had hinted at, yet she could not help being annoyed at it. It was rather foolish, she thought, ior Ai'thur to give occasion for sueli gossip. It was so unliko him, too. And yet so little -was enough to raise a nnncn* hko that, especially with so kind a fi'iend as INIrs. Gridley to keep tho ball foiling. Very liliely Arthur knew nothing at all about this ruiiior, and, as the thought passed tlu'ough her mind, Graomo determined t(j tell him about it. But she did not ; she could not do so — though why sho could not was a mystery to herself. Sometimes sho fancied there was that in Arthur's manner which prevented her from pursuing the subject, when an opportimity seemed to ofTor. AVhen ho was not there, sho was quite sure it was only her own fancy, but no sooner was tho name of Grovo menti'as reported to be rich, was no more worthy to be Arthur's wife than Oh! of coiu'so it was all nonsense. No one had ever heard three words of common sense from those pretty lips. She had heaid Artluir say as much as that himself. IVIiss Grove could dance and flirt and sing a little ; that was all that could be said for her, and to suppose that Arthur would ever — And yet Graeme grew a httlo indignant standing there lookmg at, but scarcely seeiiig the beautiful things in Savage's window, and she inwardly resolved that never again should she w;\it for the convcnionco of tlie free-and-easy occupant of the carriage standing a few doors do^^^l the street. She had time to go over the same thotights a good many times, and the conclusion always was that it was exceedingly imperti- nent of Mrs. Grove, and exceedingly foolish of Arthur, and exceedingly disagreeable to herself, before she was recalled by her brother's voice from her enforced contemplation of the beautiful things l^efore her. " Mrs. Grove wanted to speak to you, Graeme," said he, with a little embarrassment. " I cotild hardly be expected to know that by intuition," said Graeme, coldly. 'L Janet's love and bEKvicE. 30] " She beckoned Did you not see ? " "She beckoned to you ; she would hardly venture on such a hberty with me. There is not the sh<^-htcst apin'oach to in- timacy between us, and never will be, luiless I have greatly mistaken her character." " Oh, well, you may very easily have done that, you Imow very httle al)Out her. Sl)e thinks very higbly of you, I can assure you." "Stuff!" pronounced Graeme, with such emphasis that Bhe startled herself, and provoked a hearty L- ugh from her brothel'. " I declare, Graeme, I thought for the moment it was HaiTy that spoke or]\Ii*s. (4ridloy in one of her least tolerant moods. It (hd not sound the least like you." Graeme laughed, too. " Well, I was tliinking of Hany at the minute, and as for Mrs. Gridley — .1 didn't mean to be cross, ArJiur, but some- thing disagreeable that she once said to me did come into my mind at the moment, I must confess." " Well, I wish you a more pleasant subject for meditation on your way home," said iVi-thur. "Wait till I see if there are any letters. None, I behevc. Good-bye.'* IVIrs. Gridley did not occupy Graeme's thoughts on her way home, yet they were not very pleasant. All the way along the sunny streets she was repeating to herself, " so absurd," **sofoohsh," "so impertinent of Mrs. Grove," ''so disagreeable to be made the subject of gossip," and so on, over and over again, till the sight of the obnoxious carriage gave her a fresh start again. The lady did not beckon this time, she oiJy bowed and smiled most sweetly. Bui her smiles did not soothe Graeme's ruffled temper, and she reached home at last quite ashamed of her fony. For, after ?ill, it was far less disagree- able to call herself silly than to call Arthur foolish, and IMrs. Grove inipertment, and she would not think about it any more. So slie said, and so she repeated, still thinking abou* it more than was either pleasant or needful. One night, Chavue IVlillar paid them a visit. He made no 'i& ' I Hi i i ■U^i\ 4 ^mi I 302 JANETS LOVE AND SEKYICE. cret of his d'elight at their return home, dcclariiig that ho ha;l not known what to do with himself in their absence, and that ho had not been quite content or at his case since he sat in Graeme's arm-chau' three months ago. " One would not think so from the visits you have made ua since we came home," said Graeme, smiling. " You have only looked in upon us. AVe were thinking you had foi-sakcn us, or that you had found a more comfortable aim-chah', at a pleasanter fii'eside." " Business, businc r^s," repeated Charhe, gi-avely. " I as- sure you that Harry out there, and I here, have had aU that we have been able to attend to during the last three months. It is only to the unexpected delay of the steamer that I owe the leisure of this evening." "You expect us to behevo all that, I suppose," said Graeme, laughing. " Indeed, you may beUeve me. Miss Elliott. It is quite true. I can't understand how it is that my wise brother can stay away so long just now. If he does not know hoA7 much he is needed it is not for want of telhng, I assure you." " You hoar often fi'om him, I supjiose ? " " Yes. I had a note fi'om Lilias the other day, in a letter I got fi-om my mother. She sent ' kind regards ' to the IVIissea Elliott, which I take the present opportmiity of dehver- mg. '' Business having liitherto prevented," said Rose. ''You don't seem to have faith in my business engage- ments. IMiss Rose ; but I assui'c you that Harry and I de- serve great crecht for having carried on the business so sue- cessfull} for the last tlu'ce months," "Where is Mr. Gilchrist? " asked Arthur. •* Oh, he's here, there, and everywhere. But Ish'. Gilchii it IS an ' old fogie,' and he has not helped but hindered matters, now and then, It is not easy getting on with those slow- going, obstinate old gentlemen ; I can't understand how Al- lien used '"o mannge him so weU. However, he had \ix\- said suo JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. 303 bounded confidence in Allan's powers, and let him do as he pleased." " And the obstinate old gentleman has not unbounded con • fidence m the po^Yer3 of you and Harr}'?" said Arthur, laughhiq-. " Upon the w^iole I think, in the absence of yom* brother, it is as well that you two lads should have some check upon you, now and then." " Not at aU, I assure you," said Cliarhe. '' As for Hany — ]Miss Elhott, I wish I could tell you half the kind things I hear about Harry from our correspondents out there." Graeme smiled brightly. fShe was i)ermitting herself to rely entirely upon HaiTy now. " But, Charhe/' said Will fi-om his corner, "what is this nonsense you have been telhug Harry about Ai'thur and the beautiful IMiss Grove?" Charlie started and colored, and so did Graeme, and both glanced hastily at Ai-thm*, who neither stai'ted nor colored, as Graeme was very glad to perceive. " Nonsense ! " said Charhe, with a gi'eat show of astonish- ment and mdignation. " I don't miderstand you, Will." "Will.," said Rose, laughing, "you are mistaken. It was Mr. Green who had been hinting to Harry something you re- Diember ; you read it to us the other morning." " Yes, but Harry said that Charlie had been saying some- thing of the same kmd," persisted simple Will., who never dreamed of making any one feel uncomfortable. " Hintmg ! " repeated Charhe. " I never hint. I leave that to Mrs. Gridlcy and her set. I think I must have told ^Harry that I had seen Ai'tlim* in the Grove caiTiage ouo morning, and another day standing beside it talking to Miss Famiy, while her mamma was in ordering nice thm ^s at Alexander's." Graeme laughed, she could not help it. " Oh, that terrible carriage ! " said Rose. " A very comfortable and convenient carriage I foimd it many a time, when I was staging at iVIrs. Smith's," said Arthur, QooUy. " ]Mrs, Grove was so polite as to invite me to take a jv ■ > : J iV.) 4 i\ i id 304: JAITET a LOVE AND SETIVICE. seat in it more than once, and much obliged I was to bcr some of those warm August monimgs." " So you see, AV^ill.," said Charlie, triumphantly, " I was telUng Harry the simple truth, and he was mean to accuse me of liintmg 'nonsense,' as you call it." " I suppose that is what Mrs. Gridley meant the other day when she nodded so significantly toward the Grove carnage, and asked whether she was to congratulate as." Hose spoke with a little hesitation. She was not sure that her brother would bo quite pleased by IMrs. Giidley's con- gratulations, and he was not. *^ Oh ! if we are to have Mrs. Gridley's kind concern and in- terest in our aftairs, we shall advance rapidly," said he, a little crossly. " It would of course be very desirable to discuss our afifah's with that prudent and charitable lady." "But as I did not suppose tliere was on that occasion any matters to discuss, there was no discussion," said Graeme, by no means unwilling that her brother should see that she was not pleased by his manner and tone to Rose. "Oh! never mind, Graeme," said Rose, laughiag, "we shall have another chance of being congratulated, and I only *iope Arthur may be here himself. Mrs. Gridley was passing when the GroYC carriage stood at our door this morning. I saw her while I was coming uji the street. She wiU be hero in a day or two to offer again her congratulations or her sympathy." "Was IMi'S. Grove here this morning ?" enquired Arthur. *'She must have given you her own message then, I sup< pose." " She was at the door, but she did not get in. I was out, and Graeme was busy, and sent her word that she was engaged." " Yes," said Graeme, " I v^as helping Nelly, and I was hi my old blue wrapper." " Now, Graeme," said Will., " that is not the least Hke you. What about a wrapper ? " "Nothing, of coui'se. But a call at that hour is not at (dj gj-i"-^- riMM Janet's love and service. 305 times convenient, unless from one's intimate friends, and wo are not intimate." " But perhaps she designs to honor you with her intimate friendship," said Charlie. Graeme laughed. " I am very much obliged to her. But I think Ave could each make a happier choice of friends." " She is a veiy clever woman, though, let me tell you," said A.rthur ; " and she can make herself very agreeable, too, when she chooses." " Well, I cannot imagine ever being charmed by her," said Graeme, hastily. " There is something — a feeling that she is not sincere — that would spoil all her attempts at being agreeable, as far as I am concerned." *' Smooth and false," said Charlie. "No, CharHc. You are much too severe," said Arthur. " Graeme's idea of insincerity is Ijetter, though veiy severe for her. And, after all, I don't think that she is coiisciously insincere. I can scarcely tell what it is that makes the dear lady other than admirable. I think it must be her taste for management, as jMiss Fanny calls it. She does not seem to be able to go straight to any point, but plans and arranges, and thinks herself very clever when she succeeds in making people do as she wishes, when in nine cases out of ten, she would have succeeded quite as well ])y simply expressing her desires. After all, her manocuvcring is very transparent, and therefore very harmless." "Transparent! Harmless!" repeated Charlie. "You must excuse me if I say I think you do the lady's talents great injustice. Kot that I have any personal knowledge of the matter, however : and if I were to repeat the cun'ent re- ports, Miss Elliott would call them gossip and repudiate them, and me too, perhaps. She has the reputation of having the * wisdom of the serjDent,' the sl}niess of the cat, I thuik." They aU laughed, for Charlie had warmed as he went on. " I am sure it must be very uncomfortable to have any- thing to do "with such a person," said Bose. " I should feel 806 Janet's love and beuvicb. as tliougli I must bo always on the watch fui eomcthing un- expected." "To be always on the y^'atgh for somcthmg unexpected, would bo rather iinconifortablo — ' for a continuance,' as Janet would say. But I don't sec the necessity of that with IMrs. Grove. I think it must be rather a<^Teeable to have cvcryiihing arranged for one, with no trouble. You should hear Miss Fanny when in some diflicult conjunction of cu'- cumstances — she resigns herself to superior guidance. ' Mamma will manage it.' Certainly she doei: manage somo difficult matters." There was the f am test echo of mimicry in Arthm-'s tone, as he repeated Miss Fuimy's words, which Graeme was quite ashamed of being glad to hear. "It was very stupid of me, to be suve ! Such folly to sup- pose that Artinir would fall into that shallow woman's snares. No ; Arthm-'s wife must be a very different woman from pretty little Fanny Grove. I wish I knev/ anyone good enough and lovely enough for him. But there is no haste about it. Ah, me! Changes will come soon enough, we need not seek to hasten them. And yet, we need not fear them whatever they may be. I am very sm*e of that. But I am very glad that there is no harm done." And yet, the harm that Graeme so much dreaded, was done before three months were over. Before that time she had it fi'om Arthur's own hps, that he had engaged himself to Fanny Grove, one who, to his sisters, seemed altogether unworthy of him. She never quite knew how to receive his announcement, but she was conscious at the time of feehng thankful ; and she was ever afterwards thankfiil, that she had not lieard it a day sooner, to mar the pleasui'e of the last few hours of Norman's stay. For Norman came with his bride even sooner than they had expected- Graeme was not disappointed in her new sister, and that is saying much, for her expectations had been highly raised. She had expected to find her an intellectual and self-reliant woman, but she hq,d not expected to ee© sg '11 : tmmm Mnet's love And seiivicc SOI m cliarming anrl lovable a little lady. Tlioy all loved lier dearly from tb^ very first ; and Graeme satisfied Norman by her unfeigned delij^ht in her no\v sister, who was frank, and natural and ehildlike, and yet so amiable and wise ar well. And Graeme rejoiced over Norman even more than over Hilda. Ho was just what slie had always hoped he might become. Contact with the world had not spoiled him. He was the same Noi*man ; perhaps a little graver than he used to be in the old times, but in all things tiiie, and fr'ank, u^d camost, as the x»Ierle\illc school-boy had boon. How they lived over those old times ! There was s.idnoss m the pleasure, for Norman had never seen the two graves in that quiet churchyard ; and the names of the der-d were spoken softly. But the bitterness of their grief had Jong been past, and they could speak clieerfrilly and hopefully now. There was a great deal of enjo^'ment crowded into the few weeks of their stay. " If Haiiy were only hero ! " was said many times. But HaiTy was well, and well content to bo where he was, and his coming home was a pleasure whicli lay not ver)'- far before them. Theii* visit came to an end too soon for them all ; but Nonnan was a busy man, and they were to go home by IMerlevillc, for Norman declared ho should not feel quite assured of the excellence of his wife tiU Janet had pronounced upon her, Graeme was strongly tempted to yield to their persuasions, and go to Merle^'illo \\dth them ; but her long absence diuing the summer, and the hope that they might go to Emily's wedding soon, de- cided her to remain at home. Yes ; they had enjoyed a few weeks of great happiness ; and the very day of their departiu'e brought upon Graemo the pain which she had ahnost ceased to fear. Aiihur told her of liis engagement to Miss Grove. His story was very short, and it was told with more shamefacedness than was at all natural for a triumi^hant lover. It did not matter much, however, as there was no one to take note of the circum- etances. From the first shock of astonishment and pain fl . » |i i' 1 , mM 308 JANKt's love and BI'RVlOfi. which his announcement gave her, Graeme roused herself to hear her brother say eagerly, even a hi tie inii^atiently — "Of coiu'so, thiH \Yill make no difierence with uh at home? You will nover tliink of gomg away because of this, Rose ancl you?" By a great eflbrt Graeme force J herself to speak — "Of course not, Ai-thur. AMjat difference could it make? Where could we go V" \Vlien Arthur spoke again, which ho did not do for a mo- ment, his tone showed how much he was rehevcd by his sister's words. It was very gentle and tender too, Gracmo noticed. " Of coui'sc not. I was quite sure this would make no change. Rather than my sisters should be made unhappy by my — ]^ this affaii' — I would go no fiu'ther in it. My en- gagement should be at an end." " Hush, Arthur ! It is too late to say that now." *' But I w^as quite sm'c you would see it in the right way. You always do, Graeme. It was not my thought that you would do othei*wise. And it will only be a new sister, an- other Rosie to care for, and to love, Graeme. I know you wiU be such a sister to my wife, as you have ever been to Rose and to us aU." Graeme jrressed the ha*id that Ai'thiu* laid on hers, but she could not speak. " If it had bcf n any one else but that pretty, vain child," thought she. She almost fancied she had Bijoken her thought aloud, when Arthui' said, "You must not be hard on her, Graeme. You do not know her yet. She is not so wise as you are, perhaps, but she is a gentle, yielding Httle thing ; and removed from her Btepmother's influence and placed imder your's, she will be- come in time all that you could desire." She would have given much to be able to resi^ond heartily and cheerfully to his appeal, but she could not. Her heart refused to dictate hopeful words, and her tongue could not have uttered them. She sat silent and grave while her brother was speaking, and when he ceased she liardly knew whether .TANeVs love and eERVlCE. 309 bIig were glad, or not to perceive that, absorl^ecl iii his own tboiightH, he clid not Heem to notice her silence or miss hor B^mpathy. That night Graeme's head pressed a sleepless pillow, and among her many, many thoughts there wtrc few that wero not sad. Her brother was her ideal of manly excellence and wisdom, and no exercise of charity on her pai-t could mako the bride thfit lie had chosen seem other than weak, fnvolous, vain. She shrank heartsick from the contemplation of tho futm-e, repeating rather in sorrow and wonder, than in anger, ** How could he be bo blind, so mad ?" To her it was incom- prehensible, that with his ej'CH' open he could have placed his happiness in the keeping of one who had been brought up with no fear of God before her eyes — one whose highest wisdom did not go beyond a knowledge of the paltry fash- ions and fancies of the world. He might di'cam of happiness now, but how sad would be the wakening. If there rose in her heart a loehng of anger or jealousy against her brother's choice, if ever diere came a fear that tho love of years might come to seem of hltle worth beside tho love of a day, it was not till afterwards. None of these mm- gled with the bitter sadness and compassion of that night. Her brother's doubtful future, the mistake he had made, and the disappointment that must follow, the change that might be wrought in his character as they went on ; all these came and went, chasing each other tln^ough her mind, till the j^ower of thought was well nigh lost. It was a miserable night to her, but out of the chaos of doubts and fears and anxicfiea, she brought one clear intent, one firm determinaticm. She repeated it to herself as she rose from her sister's side in the dawn of the di-eary autumn mommg, she repeated it as ])i\ri of her tearful prayer, entreating for wisdom and strength to keep the vow she vowed, that whatever changes or disap- pointments or sorrows might darken her brother's futiu-c, he Khouid find her love and trust unchanged for ever. CHAPTER XXV 11 1. ARTHXJIl ELLIOTT was a young man of good intellect and suiierior acquirements, and he had ever been Bupposed to possesftj an average amount of pcnietration, and of that invaliialjle quality not always fomid h\ connection with superior intellect — common sense. He remembered his mother, and worshipped her memory. She had been a wiso and earnest-minded woman, and one of God's samts besides. Living for j-ears m daily intercourse with his sister Graeme, ho had learned to admire in her the qualities that made h' r a daughter worthy of such a mother. Yet in the choice of one who was to be " till death did them pai't" more than sis- ter and mother in one, the qualities which in them were his pride and dehght, were made of no account. Flesh of his flesh, tlie keeper of his honor and his peace henceforth, the maker or marr r of his life's happiness, be it long or short, was this pretty, unformed, wayward child. One who has made good use of long opportunity for ob- servation, tells me that Arthur ElHott's is by no means a singular case. Quite as often as otherwise, men of high intel- lectual and moral qualities link their lot with women who are far mferior to them m these respects ; and not always uii- happily. If, as sometimes happens, a woman lets her heart slip from her into thr leeping of a man who is intellectually or morally her inferior, happiness is far moro rarely the re- sult. A woman may, with such help as comes to her by fthance, keep her solifary way tlu'ough life content. But if V)ve and mamage, cj the ties of blood, have given her an arm on which she has a right to lean, a soul on whose guid- ance she has a "-ijht to trust, it is sad indeed if these fail her. JANEt'h love and 6EUVICE 311 For tlicn slio Imn no right to wiilk alone, no power to do no happily. Ilcr iiitclloctual and hocIhI lif(3 nnist grow together/ or one mnst gi'ow awiy. AVliat (Jod has joined cannot bo pnt asunder without sullering or loss. | But it w possible for a man to separate hi.s intelleetual life from the quiet routine of social duties and pleasures. It is not always necessary that ho should have the symi)athy of his housekeeper, or even of the mother of his eliildri'ii, m those higher pursuits f»ud enjoyments, which is the true life. The rising doubt, whether the beloved one have eyes to see what is beautiful to him in nature and art, may come with a chill and a pang ; the certain knowledge of luu' blindness nmst come with a shock of pain. ]jut when the shudder of the chill and the shock of the pain arc over, ho linds himself in the place he used to occupy before a fair face h;]iiiled down o]i him fi'om all high ])laces, or a soft V(.)i('e minglcid with all harmonies to his entrdnced ear. He gi'ows content in time with his old solitary place in the study, or with stri\ing np- wartt amid manly minds, "\\lien he returns to the quiet and comfort of his well-arranged home, the face that smiles oppo- site to him is none the loss beautiful l)ccauso it beams only for home pleasures and Inmible household suc(!eyses. The voice that coos and muumurs to his bal)y in the cradle, that recounts as gi'cat cveuts the little varieties of kitchen and parlor hfe, that tells of •visits made and received, with items of harmless gossip gathered up and kept for his hearing, is none the less dear to him now that it can discom-se of noth- ing beyond. The tender care that suiTounds him with quiet and comfort in his hoiU'S of leisure, in a little while contents him quite, and ho ceases to remeiuljer that he has cares and pains, aspirations and eujoym(;nts, into which she can have no part. But tliis is a digression, jiud I daresay there are many who will not agi'ce with all this. Indeed, I am not sure that I quite agree with all my friend said on this subject, myself. There are many ways of looking at the same thing, and if all were said that micrht be said about it, it would appear that 20 '*► r M I'l,/ S12 JANCT 8 LOVK AND BEUVICE. I an incapacity on tlio part of the wife to filmro, or at least to Bjinpathizo with all the hnpoH, purHiiitR, and ploasuren of her liUH])an(l, cauHC'H hitter pain to Ijoth ; ccrtahily, ho who cannot assure himself of the Hyinpatliy of the woman he loves, when ho would pass beyond the daily routine of domoHtit; duties nnd pleasures, fails of (jbtainiii'^' the highest kind of domestic hapi)iness. Charlie Millar's private announcement to his friend Ilan'y of his brother iVi'thur's eii^'agement, was in these words : "The eftbrts of the maternal Grove have been crowned with success. Youi' brother is a captive soon to be chained — " Charlie was right. His clear eye saw, that of which Ar- thur himself I'oinained in happy unconsciousness. And what Charlie saw other people Raw also, though ^vhy the wiseladj' should let slip tlirough her cxjiert fingers the wealthy Mr. Green, the gi'eat Western niereliauf, and ehjso them so firm- ly on the comparatively poor and obscure young lawyer, wae a circumstance that could not so easily bo imderstoocL Had tho interesting fact transpired, that the gi'eat Elias had not J30 much slipped tlu'ough her fingers, as, to use his own forci- ble and elegant language, "wriggled himself clear," it might have been satisfactory to tho world in general. But Mr. Green was far away intent on more important matters, on the valuation and di.4j:)osal of fal)iilous quautit^s of pork and wheat, and it i.-) not tO be sujiposed that so pnn . ..t a general as Mrs. Cxrove would be in haste to proclaim lier own defeat. She acted a wiser part ; she took the bent measures for cov- ering it. "VVlien the pretty Fanny showed an inclination to console herself for the defection of her wealthy admirer l)y making the most of the small attentions of the handsome yoimg lawyer, her nuunma graciously smiled ajiproval. Faimy might do better she thought, but then she might do worse. IVIi*. Fiiliott was by no means Mr. Green's eipial in tho great essen- tials of wealth w on, and wealth in prospect, still he was a rising man as all might see ; quite jjresentable, with no consiclcvublc eomicclioiiej, — excepL ([i^Tliap.j his sisters, who da b'jfeoMrBMMCTiftM.o-ti JA^'ET fl LOVE AND SEUVICK. .313 could easily bo disjioaod of. And then Fanny, though very pretty, was "a silly little thing," nhe Hnid to herself with great canul,ation in the , » :|. lii Sl4 JANI:T d LOVE AND SERVICE. minds of bclioldci'R, or inieojufortablo misgivings iii the minds of those chiclly concerned. Qn'te the contrary. If liny wdU'hhil fairy hiid suggested to Arthnr the possibility of such a welx as the skillful nianinia "vvas Aveaving around liini, he would have laughed at the idea as the suggestion of a very illnatured, evilnnnded .s])rite indeed. Did not mamma keep ■watchful eyes on Famiy always V Had she not inany and many a t inie, intermpted little contidenees on the part of the young lady, at the recollection of wliichho was sometimes inchned to smile? Had she not at all times, and in all i)laces, acted the part of a prudcsnt mamma to her pretty st(^i)daughter, and of ft considei'ate hostess to him, her unwortliy guest? And. if the fairy, in self-justillcation, had ventured fuiihcr to insinuate, that there is more than oik; kind of j^rudencc, and ui.it tlie i)rudence of Mrs. drove was of another and higher land, tlian a simple youth could be Siip[)osed to com- jHvliend, his enhghtenment might not yet have been accom- ])lishcd. If it had l)eeu averred that mamma's faith in her daughter's tact and conversatic^nal powers was not su{Iici( nt to permit her to allow them to be too severely tried, ho might have paused to recall lier httie airs and gestures, and to weigh the airy nothings fro] n those pretty lips, and he could not but have acknowledged that nuunma's faithlessness was not surprising. As to the ultimate success of tlio sprite in opening his eyes, or in l)reaking the invisible meshes which were meant to hold the victini fast, that is quite another matter. But tliere was no fairy, good or bad, to mingle in their affairs, and they flowed smoothly on, to the content of all concerned, till Graeme came home ""om Cacouna, to play, in Mrs. Grove's opinion, the part of a very bad fairy indeed. Shu was niistak(ni, hv)wever. Graeme took no part in tho m.atter, either to make or to mar. l^^ven had she been made aware of all tho possibilities thiit might arise out of her brother's short intimacy with the iJl roves, she never could lm\Q regarded ihe matter as one in which she had a right to Interfere, So, if there came a pause in the lady's ojid'ations, JANETS LOVE AXO feKliVICE. 315 if Ai'thur was moro seldom one of their party, even when spcci.'ii i>ains had been taken to sceuro him, it "waa owing to no efforts of (Tracnie. If he bej^an to settle down intotho old quiet home life, it was because the life suited him ; and (Graeme's intlueucc was exerted and felt, only as it had ever been in a silent, sweet, sisterly fashion, with no reference to Mrs. Grove, or her schemes. ViUt that there came a pause in the eflectivo operations of that cle- r lady, soon became evident to herself. She could not conceal fi'om herself or Miss Fanny, that the beekonings from the cariiago window were not so fpiiekly seen, or so promptly responded to as of old. Not that this defection on Arthur's part was ever discussed Ijetweenthem. IVIrs. (Jrovo had not sullicient conlldence hi her da'fghter to admit of this. Famiy v.'as not reliable, mamma felt. Indeed, she was very soon taking consolation in the admiration excited b}' a pair of shining epaulets, which begaii about this time to j>leam with considerable frecjuency in their neighboriiood. But mamma chd not believe in oflicers, at least matrimonially sjieaking, and as to the consolation to be derived from anew flirtation, it was Init doubtful and transitoiy at the best. Besides she fancied that ]\Ir. Filiott's attentions had been observed, and she was quite sm'c that his def(K*ti(m would l)e so, too. Two failures succeeding each other so rapidly, would lay her skill open to question, and " mar dear Fanny's pros- pects." And so Mrs. Grove concentrated all her f'^rces to meet the emergency. Another invitation was given, and it Avas ac^cept- cd. Li the single minute that preceded the entrance hito the dining-roon, the ilrst of a series of decisive measures was carried into effect. With a voice that trembled, and eyes that glistened with grat<'ful tears, the lady thanked her "dear friend" for the kind consideration, the manly delicacy that liad induced him to withdraw himself from their society, as Foon as he had become aware of tho danger to her sweet, but too susceptible Fanny. " Fannv does not di'eam that her secret is sufrpocf od. But 1 1 > 1 . ? I ,. t H- ' 1 ' ;■ 31G Janet's love and service. oh ! Mr. Elliott, wlien Avas a motlier at fault when the happi- ness of her too sensitive child was concerned ? " In vain Ai'thnr looked the astonishment he felt. In vain he attempted to assure her in the sirong-ost terms, that he had had no mtentioa of withdrawing' from their society — that he did not understand — that she nuist be mistaken. The tender mother's volubiht>' was too nmch for hhn. He could only listen in a very embarrassed silence as she went on. Mr. EUiott was not to supi:)osc that she bhuned him for the unliappmess he had caused. Slie quite freed him from all in- tention of wrong. And after aU, it might not bo so bad. A mother's anxiety might exaggerate the danger ; she would try and hope for the best. Change of scene must be tried ; in the meantime her fear was, that pique, or wounded pride, or disappointed affuction might induce the unhappy child to — ^in short Mv. Elliott must understand -. And Mrs. Grove gliincpcl expressively toward the vrearer of the slimiug epau- lets, with whom Arthur being unenhghtened, might have fancied that the imhajipy child was carryuig on a pretty energetic and prosperous llu'tation. But " pique and wounded ]:>ride ! " He had never in all his life experienced a moment of such intense uncomfortable- ness as that m which he had the honor to hand the lady of the house to her own w^cll-appointcd ttible. Indignation, vexa- tion, disbelief of the whole matter spoiled his dinner eHectu- ally. Mrs. Grove's exquisite soup might have been ditch- water for all he knew to the contrary. The motherly concern so fi'eely expressed, looked to him dreadfully like something not so praiseworthy. How she could look her dear Fanny in the face, and talk so softly on indifferent subjects, after having so — so unnecessarily, to say the least, betrayed her secret, was more than he could understand. If, indeed. Miss Fanny had a secret. He wished very much not to beheve it. Secret or not, this was a very micomfortable ending to a pleasant three months' acquaintance, and he felt very much annoyed, indeed. Not till coui'se after course had been removed, and the des* I I I jani:t rf LOVE AyiB service. 317 eert bad been placed on tbo tabic, did ho summon icsolntioD to ^\'itlld^a^v liis attention from the not very interesting con versatiou of bis liost, and turn bi.s eves to Miss (n-ovo and tbo cpanlcts. Tbo result of bis momentary observation ^vaH tbo discovery tbat tbo younj^ lady was looking very lovely, and not at all miserable. Greatly relieved, be ventured an a^v propritito remark or two, on tbo subject under discussion, He was listened to witb politeness, but not witb Miss Fanriy's usual amiability and interest, tbat was evident. By and by the gentlemen followed tbo ladies into tbo drawing-room, and here Miss Fanny was distant and dignilled still. She gave brief answers to bis remarks, and glanced now and then to>vard tbo epaulets, of whom i\Irs. Grove had taken possession, and to wliom she was holding forth witb great energy about something she had found in a book. Ai'thur ai)proacbcd the centre talkie, but ]\Irs. Grove was too much occupied with Captain Starr to include him in tbo con- versation. Mr. Grove was asleep in the chuing-room still, and iVi-tbur felt there was no help for him. Miss Fanny was left on bis hands ; and after another vain attempt at conversation, bo murmui'cd something about music, and begged to be per- mitted to band her to the piano. Miss Grove consented, still with more than her usual dignity and distance, and proposed to sing a now song that Captain Starr bad sent her. She did smg it, very prettily, too. She had practised it a great deal more than was necessary, her mamma tliougbt. within the last few days. Then she played a brilhant i)icce or two ; then !Mi-s. Grove, from the centre tfiblo, proposed a sweet Scottish aii*, a great favorite of hers, and, as it appeared, a great favorite of Mr. Elliott's, also. * Then there were more Scottish airs, and French airs, and then there was a duet with Captain Stan*, and mamma witbdi'ow Mr. Elliott to the centre taljle and tbo book, and did not in the least resent the wandering of bis eyes and bis attention to the piano, where the Captain's hand- some head was at thnes in close proximity with that of tbo fair musician. Then, when there bad been enough of music, Miss Grove returned to her embroidery, and Captain Starr '■\ I '■■ »i ;-!' '"'tM * i 1 .' . m 1 'i^ii ''? 1 •'.pi '■ f -" "'J 1 ^i •mi 818 Janet's Love and sekvice. i I : held lier cotton and her scissors, and talked buch nonsense to her, that Arthur hearing him now and then in the pauses of the conversation, thought him a great simpleton ; and finnly believed that Miss Fanny listened from "pique or wounded pride," or something else, not certainly because she hked it Not but that she seemed to like it. She smiled and responded as if slie chd, and was very kind and gi'acious to the handsome soldier, and scarcely vouchsafed to Mr. Elliott a smglo glance. By and by Mi*. Grove came in and withdi'cw Mr. ELUott to the discussion of the harbor question, and as Arthur knew everythmg that could jiossibl}^ be said on that subject, he had a better opportunity stni of watcliing the pah on the other side of the table. It was very absurd of him, he said to himself, and he repeated it with emphasis, as the young lady suddenly looking up, colored vividly as she met his eye. It was very absurd, but, somehow, it was very mtcrcsting, too. Never, during the whole course of their acquaintance, had his mind been so much occupied with the pretty, silly little creature. It is very likely, the plan of piers and embankments, of canals and bridges, which Miss Fanny's working unplements were made to represent, extending from an imaginary Point- St. -Charles, past an imaginary Griffintown, might have been worthy of being laid before the town council, or the com- missioner for public works. It is quite possible that ]\Ir. Grove's explanations ami illustrations of his idea of the new hai'bor, by means of the same, might have set at rest the doubts and fears of the over-cautious, and proved beyond all controversy, that there was but one way of decithng the matter, and of securing the prosperity of Mount Royal City, and of Canada. And if jMr. Grovo had that night settled the vexed question of the harbor to the satisfaction of all concerned, he would have deserved all the credit, at least his learned and talented legal adviser would have deserved none of it. It was very absurd of hun, ho said again, and yet the inter- est gi'ew more absorbing every moment, till at last he received a soft relenting glance as he bowed over !Miss Fanny's white JANET S LO\'E AND HEUVICE. 1319 hand when lie said good-night. Ho had one uncomfortablo moment. It was when ]\Iis. Grove hoped aloud that they should see him often, and then added, for his heariug alone, > " It would look so odd, yoi know, to forsake us quite." He was micomfortable and indignant, too, when the cap- tain, as they walked down the street together, commented in ft free and easy mamicr on Miss Grove's " good points," and wondered ''whether the old chap had tin enough to make it worth a fellow's pains to folloAv up the impression lie seemed certain he had made." He was micomfortable when ho thought aboTit it afterward. What if " picpe, or wounded pride, or disappomted aflcction " should tempt the poor ht- tle girl to throw herself away on such an ass ! It would bo sad, indeed. And then he wondered if Miss Grove really cared for him in that way. Surely her stepmo^ier would not have spoken as she had done to him on a mere suspicion. As he kept on thinkmg about it, it began to seem, more possible to him, and then more pleasant and what "^dth one thing, and what with another. Miss FaUi^y began to have a great many of his thoughts indeetl. He visited Gro^'o House a good many times — not to seem odd — and saw a good deal of Miss Fanny. Mamma was prudent still, and ^\•ise, and far-seeing, and how it came about I camiot tell, but the result of his visits, and the young lady's smiles, and the old lady's management was the engagement of these two ; and the lirst intimation that Graeme had of it was given by Artlmr on the niglit that Nor- man went away. Tune passed on. The wedding day was set, but there were many tlihigs to be brought to pass before it should ar* rive. Graeme had to finish the task she had set for herself . on the night when Arthur had bespoken her love and caro for a new sister. She had to reconcile herself fidly to the thought of the mamage, and tnily the task did not seem to her easier as time went on. There were moments when she thought herself content with the state of affairs, when, at least, the coming in among them of this etranger did not l'>i-4 u ■ ! Si, r':| 320 Janet's love and service. i! Vi : N seem filtogotlier like the end o' their happy life, when Miss Grove seemed n .sweet and lo^•;lblo httle thing, and Graeme took hope for Ai'thur. This -\\iiH generally on those occasions ■when Ihoy were pennittod to have Fanny all to themselves, •when she would come in of her gmti accord, in the early part of the clay, di'cssed in her pretty morning attire, without her conipany manners or finer}'. At such times she was really very charming, and llittcd aljout their little parlor, or sat on a footstool chattering with Ivose in a way that quite won her heart, and almost reconciled the elder sister to her brother's choice. But there were a gTcat many clianres against the pleasure lasting bevond the \'isit, or even to the end of it. On more than one occasion Graeme had dispatched Nelly as a messen- ger to Arthur, to tell him that Fanny was to lunch with them, though her magnanimity involved the necessity of her prepar- ing tlie gTeator part of that pleasant meal with her own hands ; but she was almost always sorry for it afterward. For Fanny never appeared agreeable to her in Ai'thur's pre- sence ; and what was worse to bear still, Arthur never ap- peared to advantage, in his sister's eyes, in the presence of Miss Grove. The coquettish airs, and pretty tp-annical ways assumed by the yomig^ lady toward her lover, might have ex- cited only a little uncomfortable amusement in the minds of the sisters, but to see Arthur jielding to all her whims and caprices, not as one yields in appearance, and for a time, to a pretty spoiled child, over whom one's authority is only dele- gated and subject to appeal, but rcaUi/ as though her whims were wisdom, and her caprices the result of mature dehbera- tion, was more than Graeme could patiently endure. It was irritating to a degi'ee that she could not always control or conceal. The lovers were usually too much occupied with each other to notice the discomfort of the sisters, but this in- difference did not make the folly of it 'ork.* It was very simple, humble work I used to do, trifles, odds and ends of the work of life; stitcliing and mending, sweeping and dusting, singing and playing, : eading and talk- ing, each a trilhng matter, taken by itself. But of such :rifles is made up the life's work of thousands of women, far ^^^ser and l)ctter than I am; and I was content with it. It helped to make a happy home, and that was much." "You have forgotten sometlimg in your list of tiifles, Graeme, — your love and care for us aU." ' No, Win. These are implied. It is the love and care that made all these trifles really * woman'a work.' A i)Ocr ilreary work it would be without these." " ^ind, Graeme, is there nothing still, to sanctify yoiu' daily labor, and make it work indeed r" said Will. There is, uideed. Will. If I were only sm*e that it is my work. But, I am not sure. And it seems as though — some- wh^^e in the world, there must be something better woi-th JANET S LOVE AND SEIiVICE. 331 the name of work, for me to do." And letting her hands fall in her lap, she looked away owr the nuinbcrles.s roof.s of the city, to the grey hno of tlic river, beyond. " Oh ! Will," she went on in a little, " you do not know. You who have your life's work laid out before you, can nevei understand how it is ^^•ith me. You know the worl: before you is yoiu' work — given you by (!od hiniSL'lf. You need have no misgivings, you can make no mistake. And look at the difference. Tlimk of aU the years I may have to spend, doing the forgotten ends of another's duty, tilling up the time with trifles, visits, frivolous talk, or fancy work, or other things which do good to no one. And all the time not know- ing v/hether I ought to stay m the old round, or break away fi*om it aU — never sui*e l)ut that elsewhere, I might tind v, hol'j- some work for God and man." Very seldom did Graeme allow herself to put her troubled thoughts into words, and she rose now and went al)out the room, as if she wished to put an end to theii* talk. But WiU. said, " Even if it v.ere true and real, all you sa}', it may not bo for long. Some day, you don't know how soon, }-ou may have legitimate ' woman's work' to do, — love, and sympathy, and care, and all the rest, without encroaching on Fanny's domain." He began gi'avely, but blushed and stammered, and glanced with iaughiiig deprecation at his sister, as he ended. She did not laugh. "I have thought of that, too. It seems so natural and proper, and in the connnon coiu'se of things, iliat a woman should marry. And there have been times, durmg this last year, when, just to get away from it all I have thought that any change would be for the better. But it would nut be riglit, unless " she hesitated. " No, imless it was. the right person, and all that, but may we not reasonably hope that the right person may come ?" " Wo won't talk about it, Will. There nnist be some other way than that. Many women find an appropriate work to 1 1 ■Ml 332 jais^et's love and service. do without maiTyinj*. I ^isli I could do as tho Meiieville girls used to do, sj^in and weave, or keep a school." " But, they don't sj^in and weave now, since the factories have been built. And as for school-keei)ing " "It would be work, good wholesome work, in which, with God's help, I might try to do as our father and mother did, and leave the world better for my labor." "But you could not part from Rose, and Ai'thur could never be made to see it right that you should go away," said WiU. "Rose should go with me. And Arthiu* would not like it at first, nor Fanny, but they would reconcile themselves to it in time. And as to the school, that is only one kind of work, though there are few lands left for a woman to do, the more's the pity." " There is work e^iougli of the best kind. It is tho re- muneration that is scant. And the remuneration could not bo made a seconciury consideration, if you left homo." "In one sense, it ought to be secondary. But I think it must be delightful to feel that one is 'ma'dng one's living,' as Mr. Snov/ would say. I should like to laiow how it feels to be quite independent WiU., I must confess." "But, Graeme, there is no need; and it would make Ar- thur quite unhapjn', if he were to hear you sjieak in that way. Even to im\ it somids a little like prido, or discontent." "Does it, Will. That is (h-eadful. It is quite possible that these evil elements enter into my vexed thoughts. We won't speak any more about it, Will." f " But, why should we not speak aljout it ? You may be quite right. At anyrate, you are not likely to set yourself right, by keeping your vexed thoughts to yourself." But, if Graeme had been ever so willing, there was no more tune just now. There was a knock at tho door, and Sarah, the housemaid, presented herself. " If you please. Miss Graeme, do you think I might go out as usual. It is Wednesday, you know." Wednesday was the night of the weekly lecture, in Sarah's JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. 333 Idi'k. Slio was a good little girl, and a worshipper iu a small way of a popular yomig preacher of the day. "If Nelly thinks she can manage ^vithout \ou," said Graeme. " It ^^ as Nelly proj^osed it. She can do very well, unless Mrs. EUiott brings home some one with her, which is uii? Ukely HO late." " Well, go then, and don't be late. And be sure you coma home with the Shaws' Sarah," said Miss Elliott. " They are late," said Will. " I am afi'aid I cannot wait for dinner. I promised to be with Dr. D. at seven." They went down stah's together. Nelly remonstrated, with great earnestness again.st Wiil.'s "putting himself off with bread and cheese, instead of diimer." "Though you need care the less about it, that the chiiner 's spoiled already. The fowls wereua much to begin with. It needs sense and discretion to market, as ^^•ell as to do most things, and folk that wiuna come home at the right hoiu* must content themselves with things overdone, or else in tho dead thraw." " I am very sorry "Will, should lose his dinner," said Graeme ; "but they cannot be Icaig m coming now." " There 's no saying. They mry meet in with folk tliat may keep them to suit their ain convenience. It has hapjicned before." More than once, when Fanny h id been out with her moiiicr, they had gone for Arthur and diiied at Grove house, witliout giving d^ie notice at home, and the rest, riter long waiting, had eaten their dinner out of season. To have a success in her department rendered vain by carelesij or culpal>le delay, was a trial to Nelly at any time. And if Mrs. Grove had anything to do with causuig it, the trial was all the gi'cate]-. For Nelly — to use her own words — had no patience with that '' meddlesome person." Any interference on her i^art in household matters, was considered by her a reflection on the housekeeping of her yomig ladies before IMis. Ai'thiu* came among them, and was resented accordingly. All hints, sug- ''^ i, ■' ,y Ml 1 1 334 JANETS LOVE AND BKRYIOE. gestious, recipes, or even direct instnictious from her, wero utterly ignored by Nelly, ^vllCll it coiild be done without posi- tive di.sol)cdiei:ce to Miss (Jlraeiiie or Mrs. Elliott. If direct orders made it necessary for her to do violence to her feelings to the extent of availing herself of Mrs. Grove's experience, it ^vas done under protest, or with an open incrediilousness as to results, at the same time instating and amusing. She had no reason to suppose that Mrs. Grove had any- tliing to do with her vexation to-night, but she chose to as- sume it to be so, and foUowmg Graeme into the dming room, where Will, sat contentedly eatuig his bread and cheese, she said, " As there is no counting on the time of their home comuig, with other folks' convenience to consult, you had best let mo bring up the dinner, Miss Graeme." " We will wait a few mhnites longer. There is no haste," said Graeme, quietly. Graeme sat a long time looking out of the window before they came — so long that Nelly came up stams again intending to exi:)0stulate still, but she did not ; she went down again, quietly, nmttering to herself as she went, "I'll no' vex her. She has her ain troubles, I daresay, with her young brother going away, and many another thing that I ken nothmg about. It would ill set me to add to her Y fiat ions. She is not at peace with herself, that 's easy to be i-eon." (( CHAPTER XXX. GRxiEME was nut jit peace with hor.solf, and had not been so fi)i a long time, and to-niglit slio was angry with herself for having spoiled Will's pleasure, by letting him see that she was ill at ease. " For there is no good vexing him. He cannot even ad- vise me ; and, indeed, I am afrnd I have not the courage really to go away." But she continued to vex herself more than was wise, as she sat there waiting for the rest in the gathering darkness. They came at last", but not at all as they ought to have come, with the air of culprits, but chatting and laughing meriily, and quite at their leisure, accompanied — to Nell^-'s indignant satisfaction — by Mrs. Grove. Graeme could hardly restrain an cxcl:unation of amusement as she hastened toward the door. Rose came fkst, and her sister's question as to their delay was stopped 1)y a look at her radiant face. " Graeme, I have somcthiiig to tell you. "Wliat is the most delightful, and almost the most unlikely thing tliat could happen to us ? " Graeme shook her head. " I should have to consider a while fii*st — I am not goud at guessing. But won't it keep? Xelly is out of al) patience." But l\osc was too excited to heed her. " No ; it won't keep. (lUess who is comuig — Janet ! " (jraeme uttered an exclamation of siu-piise. *' Arthur got a letter from Mr. Snow to-day. Read it" Graeme read. Rose looking over her shoulder. h ■ ijii ■;f :il 33G JANKT 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. I' I "I am very glad. But, Ronic, yoii must make hasto. Faimy will 1)0 down in a iniimtc, and Nelly is impatiout.'' "No wonder! But I nuist tell lier about Mrs. Snow." And with lior bonnet in her hand, she went dancing down the kitchen stairs. Nelly would have been hi an implacable humom*, indeed, if the sight of her bright face had not softened her. Regardless of the risk to mushns and ribbons, fiho sprang at once into the midst of tlie delayed prepara- tions. " Nelly ! Who do you thin^v is coming ? You \n\l never guess. I may as well tell you. IMrs. Snow ! " " Eh, me ! That 's news, indeed. Take care of the gravy, Miss Ivose, dear. And when is she coming?" There wrs not the fauitcst echo of reljuke in Nelly's tone. There was no possibility of refusing to be thus included in the family joy, even in the presence of overdone fowls and ruined vegetables. Besides, she had the greatest respect for the oldest fi-iend of the family, and a great desire to see her She looked upon her as a wonderful person, and aspired in a humble way to imitate her virtues, so she set the gravy dish on the table to hear more. " And when will she be coming ? " she asked. "Some time in Jmic. And, Nelly, such preparations as we shall have ! But it is a shame, we kept dinner waiting. We could not help it, indeed." "You dinna need to tell mo that. I hoard who came witii you. Carr}' you up the plates, and the dinner will be ujD directly." " And so, your old nurse is coming ? " said IVIi's. Grove, after they had been some tune at the table. " How dehght- ful ! You look quite excited. Rose. She is a very nice per- son, I behove, Miss EUiott." Graeme smiled. IVIi'S. Grove's generally descriptive term hardly indicated the manifold vii-tues of their friend ; but, before she could say so, IVIi's. Grove continued. " We must think of some way of doing her honor. We must get up a little fete — a pic-nic or something. Will she JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. 337 ' stay licro or at i\Ii\ Birnie'H. She is a fiicnd of his, I suppose, as lioao stopped him in the street to tell him she is coming. It is rather awkward having such i)coplo staying in tho house. Th(^y are apt to fancy, you know ; and really, one ' cannot devote all one's time — " 1 Rose sent her a glance of inthgnation ; Graeme only smiled. Ai'thur had not heard her last remark, so ho answered the first. "I doubt such thmgs would hardly be in Mrs. Snow's way. ]Mi*s. Grove could hardly make a lion of our Janet, I fancy, Graeme." " I fancy not," said Graeme, quietly. "Oh! I assm-e you, I sliall be willing to take any trouble. I truly appreciate humble worth. We so seldom find among the lower classes anytliing like the faithfulness, and the gi'atitude manifested by tliis person to your family. You must tell me all about her some day. Rose." Rose was regarding her with eyes out of which all indigna- tion had passed, to make room foi astonishment. IVIrs. Grove went on. "Did n't she leave her husband, or something, to come with you ? Ceiiainly a lifetime of such devotion should be rewarded — " " By a pic-nic," said Rose; as Mrs. Grove hesitated " Rose, don't be satmcal," suid Artlim*, trying not to laugh. "I am siu'e you must be dehghted, Fanm — Arthm^'s old nurse you know. It need not prevent you going to tho sea- side, however. It is not you she comes to see." "I am not so sure of that," said Arthm*, smiling across the table to his pretty wife. " I fancy Fanny has as much to do with the visit as any of us. She will have to be on her good behaviour, and to look her prettiest, I can assure her." " And Janet was not Arthur's nui'se," said Rose. " Graeme was baby when she came first." "And I fancy nursing was but a small part of Janet's work in those days" said Arthur. "She was nurse, and cook, and housemaid, all in one. Eh, Graeme ? " i ii (I'l i t ' i' .1: ;H1 338 JANKt'b love AXl) SEUVICH. J i: "Ay, and more than tbat — more than could \)0 told in wordH," said Graomo, with glistcnin*^ eyes. "And I am sure you ^^iU like her," said llcse, looking straight into Mrs. Gnn-o'K face. " Her husl^iuid is very rieh. I think he must ho ahuor^t the; richest man in M'.n'lovUle." Ai'thur did not rc^prove Eoso this time, though she well do served it. She i-ead her j'oproof in (iraemc's look, and lilushed and hurg her head. She did not look very much abashed, however, olic knew Ai-thur was enjoying the home thrust ; but the subject was pursued no fartlier. "Do you know, Fanny," said ISlrs Grove, hi a little, "I saw Mrs. Tilnian this morning, and a very superior person she tunis out to be. Slio has seen better days. It is sad to see a lady — for she seems to have been quite a lady — so ro duced." " And who is Mrs, Tilnian," asked Arthur. Fanny looked annoyed, but her mamma went on. "She is a person Mrs. Gridlc^y was speakhig to Fanny about — a very worthy person indeed." "She was speaking to you, you mean, mamma," said Fanny. " Was it to me ? Well, it is all the same. She is a widow. She hved in Q a while and then came here, and was a housekeeper in Haughton Place. I don't know why she left. Some one married, I think. Since then she has been a sick niu'se, but it did n't agi*ee with her, and lately she has been a cook in a small hotel" " She seems to have experienced vicissitudes," said Ai'thur, for the sake of saying something. " Has she not ? And a very worthy person she is, I under- stand, and an admirable cook. She markets, too — or she did at Haughton House — and that is such a relief. She must be an invaluablo servant-" "I should think so, indeed," said Arthur, as nobody else seemed incUned to say anj^thing. Graeme and Rose were speaking about Janet and her ex- pected visit, and Fanny sat silent and embarrassed. But .^^ JANET 9 LOVE AND BEllVlCK. 3d» Nolly, hnny in taldn^jf away tho things, lo3fc notliiii<^ of what was said ; and Wxh. Grove, strange to say, was not altogether inattentive to the changing face of the energetic; table nuiitl. An uncomplimentary remark had escaped tlie lady, as to tho state of the overdone fowls, and N<'lly "could put tliis and that together as well as another." Tho operation of renioving tho things could not bo indefinitely prolonged, however, and as Nelly shut the door Mrs. (J rove said, " She is out of place nov/, Fanny, and would just suit you. But you must be prompt if you wish to engage her." " Oh ! there is no hm-ry a))out it, I suppose," said Fanny, glancing imcasily at Graeme. But Graeme took no notice. Mrs. Grove was rather in the hal)it of discussing domestic affairs at the table, and of leaving CJraemc out of tho conver- sation. She was very willhig to be left out. Besides, sho never thought of inlluenchig Fanny in the pie.-ience of her stepmother. " Oh ! but I assiu'o ^ou there is," said j\Irs. Grove. "There ai'c several ladies wishmg to have her. INIrs. Kuthven among the rest.'" " Oh ! it is such a trouble changing," said Fann^-, wearily, as if sho had had a trying experience and spoke advisedly. "NoL ... ..11. It is only changing for the worse that is so troublesome,'* said IMi's. Grove, and she had a right to know. "I advise you not to let this opportimity pass." " But, after aU, Nelly does very well. She is stui)id somo- times and cross, but they arc all that, more or less, I &iix> pose," said Fanny. " You are quite right, Fanny," said Ai'thur, who saw that his wife was annoyed without very well knowing why. ** I daresay Nelly is a better servant — notwithstanding tho un- fortunate chickens of to-dav, -which was our own fault, vou know — than the decayed gentlewoman. Sho will be a second Janet, yet — an institution, an established fact in tl^e history of the family. Wo couldn't do without Nelly. Eh, Graeme ? " Graeme smiled, and said nothing. Rose answered for her. f.i; •4^ r 1 uo JANKTS LOVE AMD bliliVICE. **No, iiidood. I am ro plad Nelly will see "Mvh. Snow." ** Very well," Haid Mrn. Grovo. " Since Miss Elliott Heomfl to be satisfied with Nelly, I Rupposc she nniHt stay. It is a pity you had not known sooner, Fanny, ho as to save me tho trouble of niakin;,' an ai)pointment for her. But she may aa well come, and you can see her at any rate." Her caiTiago beiiif? at the door, she went away, and a rather awkward silence followed her departure. "What is it all about! Who is 2^Irs. Tilman?" askod Arthur. ** Some one Mrs. Crrove has seen," said Graeme, evasively. " But what about Nelly ? Siu'ely you arc not thinking of changing servants, Graeme?" " Oh ! I hope not ; but Nelly has been out of sorts lately — gi'umbled a little — " "Out of sorts, grumbled ! " exclaimed Fanny, vexed that Mrs. Grove had introduced tlie sa])ject, and more vexed still that Arthur should have addi'essed his (question to Graeme. " She has been very disiigi'ccable, indeed, not to say impcrti' nenr, and I shall not bear it any longer." Poor httle Fanny could hardly keep back her tears. "Impertinent to you, Fanny," cried Graeme and Ai'thur in a breath. " Well, to mamma — and she is not very respectful to rao, sometimes, and mamma says Nolly has been long enough here. Servants always take liberties after a time ; and, be- sides, she looks ujion Graeme as mistress rather than mo. She quite treats mo like a child," continued Fanny, her in- dignation increasing as she proceeded. " And, besides," she added, after there had been a moment's uncomfortable silence, "Nelly wishes to go." " Is Barkis willing at last ? " said ^\j'thiu', trying to laugh dIT the discomfort of the moment. Rose laughed too. It had afforded them all much amuse* ment to watch the slow courtship of tho tlignificd Mr. Stirling. Nelly always denied that there was anything more in the gardener's attentioofli.> '^'«m just the good-will and friend '^^^. JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. 341 liness of a oonntryiufin, iiiul ho certainly was a long tinio in coming to tho point thvy nil iicknowkHlged. "Nonsense, Arthur! That has nothing to ilo with it," said Fanny. " Then, hIio nuLst bo going to her sister — tho lady with a fabulous number of cows and children. She has spokon about that every .summer, nioro or less. Her conscienco pricks her, every new baby she hears of. ]]ut sluj will get over it. It is idl nonsense about her leaving." ' ** But it is not nonsense," said Fanny, sharply. *' Of courso Graeme will not like her to go, but Nelly is veiy obst inato and disagi'ccable, and mamma says I shall never be mistress in my own house while she stays. And I tliijd: we ought to take a good servant when we have the chance." "But how good a servant is she'?" aslred Arthur. " Didn't you hear what mamma said about her'? And, of courso, she has references and ^mtten characters, and all that sort of thing." " Well, I think wo may as well ' sleep upon it,' as Janet used lo saj'. There will bo time enough to decide after to- night," said Arthur, taking up his ncwspajier, more annoyed than he was willing to confess. The rest sat silent. Eose was indignant, and it needed a warning glance fi'om Graeme to keep her indignation from overflowing. Graeme was indignant, but not siu'prised. Indeed, Nelly had given warning that she was to leave ; but she hoped and beUeved that she would think better of it, and said nothing. She was not indignant with Fanny, but with her mother. She felt tha'> there was some trutli in Fanny's declaration, that Nelly looked upon her ns a cliild. She had Nelly's ow^u word for that. She conrsidered her young mistress a child to be humored and " no' heeded " when any serious business was going on. But Fanny would not have found this out if left to herself, at least she would not have resented it. The easiest and most natural thing for Graeme, in the turn affairs had taken, would bo to withdraw from all inter* m 342 ft* Janet's love and service. 1 •^ ferenco, and let things take their course ; but just becauso this would be easiest and most agreeable, she hesitated. Sho felt that it would not be light to stand aside and let Fanny l)iuiish herself and all the rest because of the meddlesome felly of Mrs. (J rove. Besides, it would bo so ungrateful to Kelly, who had served them so faithfully all those year" And yet, as she looked at Fanny's pouting lips and fi'owning brow, her doubts as to the propriety of interference grew liti'ongcr, and siie could only say to hcrscll', with a sigli, " We nnist have patience and wait." And the matter was settled withcnit her interference, though not to her satisfaction, liefore a week, Nelly was on her way to the country to make acquauitance of her sister's co^s and children, and the estimable IMi's. Tilman was in- stalled in her place. It was fin imcomfortablc time for all. Rose v:as indignant, and took no pains to hide it. Graeme was annoyed and sorry, and, all the more, as Nelly thd not HOG fit to conline the sjliilhess and coldness of her leave-tak- ings to Mrs. Elliott a^' she ought to have done. If half as earnestly and fi-ankly as she expressed her sorrow for her de- partiu'e, Graeme had expressed her Ycxation at its cause, Kelly would liavc been content. But Graeme would not compromise Fanny, and she would not condescend to recog- nize the meddlesomeness of Mrs. Grove in theii* affairs. And yet she could not bear that Nelly should go away, after five ' years of lovhig service, with such angry gloom ui her kind eves. "'Will you stay with your sister, Nelly, do you think?" or will you come back il) S Eli VIC JO. 1^ i ii i fortunately for her uiul the house liold <^cncrally, Graeme waq as ready as over to do tbo odds-and-euds of other people's duties, and to remember things forgotten, so that the do« nieslic machiiuTv moved on ^vith wonderful smoothness. Not that Nelly's de[>ariuro was no longer regretted ; ])ut in her heart Graeme believed that thoy would soon have her in her place ngaiu, and nhc was determined that, in the moan- time, all should be pleasant and peaceful in theii* family life. For Graeme had sot hei- heart on two tlnngs. Fu'st, that there shouhl be no drawback to the pleasiu-e of INIrs. Snow's visit ; nnd second, that Mr«. Snow should admire and love Ai'thur's wife. She had had serious doubts enough herself as to the wisdom of her lu'other's I'hoiee, but she tried to think herseh" (juite contented with it now. At any rate, she could not bear to think that Janet should not be (juite content. Not that she was V( i-y much afraitl. lor Graeme's feelings toward FaniiV had changed very much since she had been one of them. Slie ^vas nc^t very wise or sensil)le, but she ^vas very sweet-tempered and alVectionate, and Graeme had conn! to love her dearly, especially since the very severe ill- ness from which Fanny was not long recovered. Her faults, at least many of them, were those of educati<3n, which she "Would outlive, Gi'aeme ho])ed, and any little disagreeable ths- play which it had ])vvn llieir misfortune to witness during the ^ear could, direct) v or indirectlv, be traced to the iiithieneo or meddJesojiieness of her ste[)iJiother, and so it could easily be overlooked, Thi.^ inlluence would grow weaker hi time, and Fanny would imprcjve in consequence. The vanity and the carelefjsness of the f<'eluigs of oth(>rs, which were, to Ctracme, her wor^t faults, were faults tliat would pass away ■with time and experience, she hojjed. Indeed, they were not half so a[>parent as they used to ])e, and whether the change was in Fanny or herself she thd not sto]) to inquire. But she Wiis determined that her new sister should appear to tlu! best advantage in tlie eses of tli(>ir dear old friend, and to this end the domestic sky must be kept clear of cloud.s. So ]Mi"s. 'rihiian's aibui'iistratiou commenced under the niosli Vj%- ir id Is. U JANET S LOVK AND SEKVIOE. 345 favorable cii'cumstauces, and the surprise \vliicli all felt at the quietness with which this j^vat domestic revolution had been brought about was begiiuiing to give place, on Fanny's pai-t, to a httle triiuuphant self-congratulation which Kose was inclined to resent. Graeme did not resent it, and liose was read}"" to forgive Fanny's triumph, since Fanny was so ready to share her delight at tlie thought of ^\is. fcjnow's visit. As for AVill., he saw nothing in tlie whole circle of events to dis- turb anyl)ody's equanimity or to rcgrt-t, except, peiha[)s, that the attraction of the ^McLityre chil(h*en and cows had [)roved ii'resistible to Nelly at last. And Arthm* congratulated him- self on the good sense and good management of his little wife, tii'mly believing in the wisdom of the deluded Uttle tTe:;ture, r.cver doubting that her skill and will were oipial :■> the tri.n'ij)hant encoiuiter with any possil)le do'ucBtic c ■ o II If I M I ' ■ I ^ ■ ' f ro > :! CHAPTKK XXXI. 1'^HEY v^amo at, last. 7\rtlinv and Will, iiirt them on \h9 other si(l(! of the river, and Graeme and Horse "wonld fuiii have done the same, but beeau.se of fallin;^ rain, and Ijc- cause of other reasons, it was thought not best f^u* them to go. It was Cj very quiet meeting — a little restrained and tearful just at first ; but that wore away, and Janet's eyes rested on the bairns fit'oni whom she had been so long separatefl with love and wonder and earnest scrutiny. They had all ehangerl, hIic said. Arthur was like his father ; AVill. v.as like both father and mother. As for Rosic} "IVIiss Graeme, my dear," said ]\Irs. Snow, *' I think Rosie is nearly as bonny as her sister IMarian," and her eye rested on the giii's l)lusliing face with a tender admiration that was quite as nnieh for the dead as for the living. Graeme had changed least of all, she said ; and yet in a little she found herself wondering whether, after all, Graeme had not changed more tlian any of tliem. As for Fannv she found heiself in danger of Ix-'ing over- looked in the general joy and exeitcment, and went about 'inghng her keys, and rather ostentatiously hastening tho preparations for the refreshment of tlie travellers. She need not have been afi'aid. Her time was coming. Even now bhe encoiuitered an odd glance or t\\() fj-oni IMr. Snow, who v0 SERVICE. ways 1)0 JaiK't to thom — tlm donr frioiid of thoir cliIMhoocl, with Jiv)ro roiil worth in 1 (^r htilo fiii<;-or than thoro was in ten snoh fine; ladies as Mrs. Clrovc. But Eoso gvcw indi^iant beforehand, as slio iiiia^^'iiiod tlio snpcrciHo'is smiles and forced, polituncss of thfit lady, and perhaps of Fiuniy too, when all this worth slionld ai)i>f^ir in the form of a little, plain old woman, with no elaim to eonsicievation on account of exteiTials. But tliat was all past now. And seeing her sitting there in ner fall brown travelling dress, her snowy rcckerchief and pretty (piaint cap, looking as if her iile might have been pass(>d with folded hands in a velvet arm-chair, Rose's mis- givings gave place to triuin]ho knew hini best, " had the faculty of doiiifjf 'most anjihhi^/' had certauily not the fiicultv of sittiii;^' still in a (hair like oilier people. The hull or the gallery was his usual place of ]>ronienade, but v.hen the in- terest of the conversation Ic ]it him with tli(^ rest, Fjkniiy suf- fered consttuit anxiety ;is to tlu; fate of oitcnnans, vases and little tables. A judicious re-arrangement of these soon gave him a clearer space for his perambulations ; l)nt a man ac- customed to walk milt s daily on his own land, could not 1x3 expected to content himself long within such narrow limits. So one briglit morning he renewed the proposal, made long before, that Will, should show him Canada. Up to a ctmiparativcly recent period, all jVFr. Snowy's ideas of the country had bfen got fj-om tlie carefid reading of au old " History of the French and Indian "War." OF course, by this time he had got a liltl(» beyond tlie beli(^f that the gov- ernment was a military desi)otism, that I lie city of !\Iontreal was a cluster of wigwams, hnddli-d together witliin a circular enclosure of palisades, or that tlie comv.ierce of the country consisted in an exchange of beads, muskols, juid bad wh.iskey for the furs of the Aborigines. Still liis ideas were va;;iio and iiKhslincl, not to say disparaging, and he had already quite unconsciously excited tlu^ amusement of Will, and the indignation of Kose, l)y indulging in remarks indicativ.? cl a low opinion of things in general in the Queen's dominions. So when he proposed that Will, should show him Canada,, Rose looked gravely up and asked, " Where will you go first, Will. ? — to the R(><1 river or Hud- Bon'fl Bay or to Nova Scotia? You must be back to lunch." Thev all laughed, and Arthur said, f ■ li lf\ l§ ♦ ,: \if mo JANKT 8 L(J^•t AND SEUVICE. ] ** Oh, lie, Ilo.sio ! not to know thcso places are all beyond the Ihnits of Canada ! — snch if^iiorancc !' " They are in the (Queen's (lomiiiioiis, tlii)u;^h, and ^Mr. Sqow wants to sec all that is worth Hcciiij^' on J^ritish soil." " Well, I f^oicss wo ran make out a full day's work in Can ada, can't we? It 's best to take it moderate," said ]\Ir. Snow, Huiiling benif^ily on Rose, lie was tolerant of the yonn<^ lady's iK'tnlaiice, and not so ready to excite it as he used to bo in the old times, and generally listened to her little saUies with a deprecating smile, anuising to sec. He was changed in ot' ^-^ i^ , cts as well. Indeed, it must bo confessed tluit just at . -1 .\r'hur was a little disapix)i'ntcd in hun. ][o had only a rN ;l:i, j^ i-rsonal acquaintance with him, but he had heard so much oi h.ui from the others that he had looked forward with interest to making the acquaint- ance of the " shai-j) Yankee deacon." For Harry had a good story about "Uncle Sanq)son" ready for all occasions, and there was no end to the slii-ewd remarks and scraps of worklly wisdom that he used to (luote fi'om his lips. But Harry's acquaintance had boon confined to the first years of their Merleville life, and Mr. Snow had changed much since then. He saw all things in a new light. Wisdom and folly had changed their aspect to him. The charity wliicli " believeth and hopeth all things," and which "thinkcth no evil," lived within him now, and made him slow to see, and slower stiU to connnent upon tlie faults and foibles of others with the sharpness that used to excite the mh'th of the lads long ago. Not that he had forgotten how to criticise, and that severely too, whatever he thought deseiwed it, or would be the better for it, as Will, had good reason to know before he had dono much ui the way of *' showing him Canada," but he far more fi'equently sm-prised them all by his gentle tolerance towards what might be displeasmg to him, and by his quick appreci- ation of whatever was admirable in all he saw. The fii st few days of sightseeing were passed in the city and its environs. With the towii itself he was greatly pleased. Tlie great giey stone stnicturcs suited him well, suggesting, JANKT d LOVE AUD SKKVICK, 351 as they often do to the people accustomed to houses of biick or wood, idoas of bti'cugth and pernmncncc. But as ho ^vas usually content ^vith an outside view of tho buildings, with such a view as could be obtained l)y a slow drive Ihrouj^h tho streets, the town itself did not occupy him long. Then came the wharves and ships ; then they visited tlic niamil'a(.'tt)ries and workshops, lately become so iiumeroiis in tlie nei^dibor- hood of the canal. All these phrased and interested hiia gi-eatly, but he never failed, when (>pi)()rtunity olVered, to point out various partieuhu's, in which he considered the ]\Iontroal- era "a IcctU; behind the times." On the whole, however, his appreciation of British energy and enteiiirise was admiring and sincere, and as warmly eK[>ressed as could be expected under the eireum stances. " You 'vo got a river, at any rate, that jibout com 'S u] t one's ideas of what a river ought to be — l)road and vle<.,> and full," he said to Arthur one da v. ''It kind of saiisl'"'' one to stand and look at it, so grand and powerful, '.ml still al- ways rolling on to tho sea." " Yes, it is like your Father of ^^^lters,'' said iVi'thur, a little surprised at his tone and manner. " One wouldn't be apt to thiidc of mills and engines and such things at the first glimpse of that. I didn't see it tho day when I crossed it, for the mist and rain. Today, as wo stood looking down upon it, I coul]\<^ winter Ih aj^aiiist, too." "Oh! tlic bridj^o will Ih; built, I snppomo, and tho bonolit will not 1)0 eondiiod to us. The "\V(';-.t(rn trade; v.ill bo bene- fited as well. A\'hat do you think of your IMasHjiehusett.s men, gettin^jf their cotion round this way? This romniuni- cationwith the more northern cotton growinrr States is more direct by this than any other way." "Well, I ain't prepared to say much about it. Sonu^ folks wouldn't tlnnk much of that. But I supjiose you are bound to go ahead, anyhow." But to the experienced eye of the farmer, nothing gave so much i)lcasure ns the cultivated counlrv bing around tho city, and beyond the mountain, as far as the eye could reach. Of the mountain itself, he was a little contemptuous in its character of mountain. "A mountain with smooth fields, and even orchards, reach- ed ahnost to tho top of it! AMiy, our sheep pasture at ^lerleville, is a deal more like a mountain than that. It is only a hill, and moderate at that. You nnist liave been dreadful hard up for moantains, to call tJiat one. You 've forgotten all about ]\Ierleviil(\ Ilosie, to be content with that for a mountain." AMiile he admired tho farms, he did not hesitate to com- ment severely on the want of enterprise slioun by the farmers, who seemed to ])o content " to putter along" as their fathoi's had done, with little desire to avail themselves of tho many hiventions and discoveries which modern science and art had placed at tho disposal of tho farmer. In ^Merlcvillo, every man who owned ten, or even five acres of h^vel land, had an interest in sowing and mowing machines, to say nothing of other improvements, that could bo made available on hill or meadow. If the strength and patience so fi'ccly cxiDended among tho stony New England liiUs, could but be applied to tho fertile valley of tho St. Lawrence, what a garden it might \jC- JANETS I.OVK AND SEUVICT!. o.->3 bocomol And tlio YiinUco fanner pfivw a little f'<)iitoiiii)(u(ni9 of the contented iiccinieseencc^ of ('iiMiidi.-in.s to the order of aflfiiirs CHtal)lislied l)y tlieii* fathers. One afternoon he and Will, wetit to;^'eth(»r to the toj) of the mountain toward the wosteni end. They had a fair day for a fair sight, and when Mr. Snow looked down on tho Roeno, bounded by tho blue hills beyond both rivers, all other thoughtH gave ])hu'0 to feelhigs of wondeiing admiration. Above was a sky, whoso tender ])hie ^vas made more lovely by tho snowy clouds llial sailed now and then majestically across it, to break into flakes of silver near the far horizon. Beneatli lav Uie vallev, clothed in tlie numberless shades of verdure with which June; h)ves to dock tho earth in Ihis northern climate. There were no wastt^ i»laces, no wilder- ness, no arid stretches of sand or stone. Far as tho eye could reach, extended fields, and groves, and gardens, scatter- ed throuiifh w ith clusters of cottages, or solitary farm houses. Up through tho stillness of tho summer air, camo stc^aling tho faint sound of a distant bell, seaming to deepen the silence nnind them. " I suppose, tho land that ]\Iosos saw from Pisgah, must have been like this," said ^Ir. Snow, as ho gazed. " Yes, the Promised Land was a land of hills, and valleys, and brooks of water," said "Will., softly, never moving his eyes from the wonderful picture. Could they ever giize enough? Could they ever weary themselves of the sight ? The shadows gi*ew long; the clouds, that had mado the beauty of the sununer sky, followed each other toward the west, and rose in pinnacles of gold, and amber, and amethyst ; and then they rose to go. "I wouldn't have missed fitat now, for considerable," said Mr Snow, coming back with an eflbrt to tho rojilization of the fact that this was part of the sight-seeing that ho had set himself. " No, I would n't have missed it for considerable more than that miserable team '11 cost," added he, as he came in sight of the carriage, on whose uncomfortable seat the drowsy driver had been slumbering aU the aftcnioon. Will, smiled, 854 . -■.' JANKT 6 LOVE AND bKIiVICK. 1 niul mado no answer. IIo was not a vain lul, Imt it is jiwt pOHHiblc that tbcro pussi'il tliroii;^^!! liis mind a d<)iil)l whctlicr tio cnjoyniout of his friend had \)vrn as real, as hi«^h, or as nitcnse, as his had been all the afternoon. To AVill.'s iiiiaj^' illation, the valley lay hi the gloom of its prin»cval forest.s, peopled by laroes of a race now passed away, ilo was one of them. Ho f«)U;rien(H3 of his shonld ho of valuo to another. And so thry fell (piito into silcnco, till the/ neared the streols where th(! Ughted lamps w'ere])urningdin\ in the fading,' dayli'^dit. That nifjht, in th(! eoui'so of his wanderings up and down, Mr. Snow paused, as he often did, before a portrait of tlie minister. It was a portrait taken when the minister had been a nuich younger man than ]Mi*. Snow liad ever known him. It had belonged to a friend in Seotland, and had been sent to Artluir, at his dcatli, about a year ago. Tlie likeness had been strildng, and to Janet, the sight of it liad been a great pleasure and surprise. She was never weary of look- ing at it, and even ]Mi\ Snow, who had never knowji tho minister but as a grey -haired man, was .strangely fiuseinati d l)y tho beauty of the giMve smile that ho remembered s(> well on his face. That night Ik; stood leaning on tho back of a ehau", and gazing at it, Mhile the ccmversalion llowcd on as usual around him. In a little, lvo.sc came and btood beside him. "Do you think it is vory like him ? " asked she. "AVell," said Mr. Snow, meditatively, "it's Like him and It ain't like him. I love to look at it, anyhow." " At first it jnizzled jue," said Pioso. " It seemed like tho pictui'C of some one I had seem in a di'oam ; and when I shut my eyes, and tried to bring back my father's face as it used to bo in Merleville^ it would not come — tho face of the cbeam came between." " Well, there is soni thing in that," said Mr. Snow, and ho paused a moment, and shut his eyes, as if to call back tlui face of his friend. " No, it won't do that for mo. It would take something I hain't thought of yet, to make me forget his face." V \\ r h\ li Si ' ! \ l\ '■I 11 :, 356 JA^'l•T's Lovi: and bJiuvici:. '* It tloes not trouljlc mc; ikjw," k\'u\ Iioho. "I cau «hut my eyes, and see liim, ()! so pl;iiiily, in the t'luircli, and at homo ill the studv, ami out iiiidci' tho tivcH, and as ho l:iv — HI Ills CO nhi- hhu \vas siiiiliii;^' still, but tlie tears wen ready to /^iish over lier eyes. I\[r. Snow turned, and hiving his hand on her hriiiht head, said, softlv. " Yes, dear, and so can I. If \\u did n't know that it must 1)0 ri;j^ht, we nii;^']it v, oiulrr wliy he was taken from us. J3ut I shall never foix* t him — never. ][*• did too nnieh for me, for that. Ho was tho best IViend I ever had, bv all odds — tho very bc^t." RoRC fijuiled throu;^h her tears. "lie broii'dit vou .Airs. Snow," said she, Boftly. "Yes, dear. 'J'liat was mueh, lait lu; did more than that. It v.as thvou,^'1i him that T madt; the accjuaintaneo of ii better and dear* r friend than ( veil >7/'' is — and that is sayijiji,' (on- niderable,"' added he, turnin;^' his eyes toward fho tramiuil fi{^nire knitlin** in the anii-ehair. *' Wire you speakin,^ V' .said Mi's. 8now, looking up at tho yound of his voiee. •' Yes, I was speakin;^' to Kosi", hert>. IFow do you sup- pose W'o can e\\i: AND ^^l•;l: VICK. or. 7 *' I couldna tru.st Kosio awjiy from inc. I liiivciiii thoHo aixtcen yeiu's — her wliolo life, biuo I, Jiiuot ? If yon wuiit RohIo, you must lijivc nio, too." Sho opoke lightly, but tariustly ; hIio unaut what hIio HJtid. Indued, ko earnest was she, that she (^uite llushed up, and tho tears were not far away. The others saw it, and were Hilout, but Fanny who was not (piiek at Heeui;^ thiii;,'s, said, "But what eould we do witiioiit you botli? That would not be fair — " " Oh ! vou would have Arthur, and Arthiu' would have vou. At I'ate, Re dl not to her to snal lave li ! is niuie, anv one who won't have mo, too. She is u when Will. },'oes away." "(jjjienie would not I rust UoHi(5 with Arlhnr and mc*," saii. Fanny, a little petti^lily. " 'J'heiX! are so many lhin;^fs that (iraemc! don't api)rove of. She thinks we wouhl spoil Kose." Janet's hand toui-hed hers, wliethcr by ue(;ident (U* desi;^Mi Clraemo did not know, but it had the elVect of eheckiiij^' tho responsi that msc to her lips, and slit' only said, laughin;^dy, " ]\lrs. Snow thinks that you and Artliur ai"e sjxtiling us both, Fanny." Janet smiled fondly and gravely at the sisters, as she said, Btroking (Iraeme's l)<)wed hciid, "I tlare say you arc mt' jiast spoiling, eitlier of yoii, but I have sc( n Wdrsc bairns." After this, Mr. Snow and W ill. began the smvcy of Canadi in earnest. First they went to (Quebec, win ic they lingerecl several atienee, and pi\»iong(,'d their stay lor his saki*. 'I'lien tluy vsuit up lli" eituntry, visiluig llio (hiel" towns and places ol' inl(i'est. Thiy did not eonlino themselves, howevir, to the u u.d roiilf ..f travelers, but went lure and there in v,agt)ns and stag«'s, through a farming Country, in which, t!ioU';h ^If. Snow !..i\» much Ux ritii ise, ho saw i:ior.' to admiie. They shuied the ho:.pilality of uuinyu 858 JANKTS LOVE AND BERVIf'E. i!' qniot fiinnhonso, nn frcifly as it \va.s ofTercd, aiul on joyed manj ft plca.sant converHatioii with tlio farmcr.s and thoir familicH, Bcatcd on doors-steps, or l>y llio liitclicn i\vv. Thouf^'li tlio hospitiiliiy of (ho country pooplo waF<, as a general tb-ng, fully and freely oflered, it uas sometimes, it must 1)0 confessed, not ^vitllont a certain reserve. That a "live Yankee," cn(e, and abh^hodicMl, should be goinj^ al)out in these out-of-the-way parti, for the solo puqiosc; of satisfyin<^ himself as io the feat ures, resources, and inhabitants of the country, was a eircumstanco so rare, so unheard of, indeed, in these parts, that the shrewd country people did not like ko commit themselves at tlu; first glance. Will.'s frank, hand- Romo facA\ and sim])le, kimlly maimers, won him spe< dily Dnougli the conlidence of all, and^Fr. Snow's kindly advanc(H wen; seldom long withstood. Hut then^ sometimes lingered an uneasy ft'cling, not to say suspicion, that when hv had suc- ceeded in wimiing their conlidcnci', he would turn round and mal»<^ homi! startling demand (»n their faith or their purses iu beluilf of souic patent medicine or now invention — ])erhaj)S one of those wonderful labor-saving machines, (.f which ho had so nuich to ^'ay. As for himself, if he ever observe(l tlieir roHorve or its cause, h*' luv r I'l si nted it, or commented upon it, but eut< ltd ;il one- into tlu-, disrussion of all possible huI>- jiscts with tile zest of a man tletermined to make tlie niost of the i>lea.sant circumstances in which he fountl himsrlf. If ho did not always agn (; with tlu; opinions <'X])ressed, or approve of the 'nodes of f:irming j»ursued, hi- ct least found that tho uturdy fanners of (ilengarry and Iho eoiuitry beyond had more to say foe their opinions and ]»ractico than *' so hay this means, too, he won for himself a rciMitatioa for wisdom, about matttis and thin;^'s in {general, which ^,^u•l)l•iKcd no one so much as him- self. Tljey wowKl have; likcil to linger far li'ii-cr, (»ver tliis part of ilici'" tri]), tha:i tiny li;.d timctod", t.'i- tiic d;:vi were hastt niji.L.';. J5ef()re returning' home, they visite(t Nia;^ara, tliut wonderful work of (iod, too great and grand, as ^Fr. Snow told Ilosie, to be the pride of one nation exclusively, and so it had been 1 (laced on the borders of the two <'Teat<'st nations in tl le worKl. This jiart of tlu- trip was for Will. 's sake. ^Fr. Snow had visited them on his wmv A\'e.-^i mauv vears ',\svnships. Arthur W( iit with them there. It was but ■; glimps(» they could ;^iv(5 it, Passing in through .Missis'-juoi County lo the head uf the lovely lake M» niphremagog, they spent a fewdnyi on i*, and along its nhores. 'i'ln ir return was by a eirciiitouH coiirst; a(!r()SH the couutrv thr >u. h theCounty ((f Stanstead, in the miilst uf beautiful seeia ry, ai.d what Mi'. Si.i>\v derland to be "as line a faruiing coiuitrs as ansbody nci'd wisii to He(f." Tl UH "Keenu 'Canada" was a more serious naider than ho ha«i at lirst .suppose) I, Mr. Snow acknowleilgcl to the delighted iiobe. It coiUd nut be done iusticu to in a I'W days, ho said: 2Ii ♦ ' / ",f 3()0 JANKTH I.UVK AM) 8KRVICK. i but lie would ivy and rccoiicilo hiiusolf to the liaKtiiK^ss of his trip, by (ukiii;^' it for /^'ranted that the parts he had not seen wore iiretty imieli like those he had j^^Mie through, and a very fine couiitrv it was. "Canada will no heard fioin yet, I expect," said he, one ni;^djt wlicn llicy h id returned hi)iii(>. ''By the tii.iu! that yon got some thiii!(.s done that you njcan to now, you '11 he ready to ^'o ahead. I don't Fee but you have as g(.od a chance as ever wo luid — b' Iter, (iveii. Vou have '^'ot the Kanio eleniejit.j," eontiiiued he, ''the real live Yankee is ::i,,.ut uii conipleto a man as you '11 genei-'t^yv meet any win r". He hi);i the cauliou of the Scot, to tem[ie: die :!'-u of the Irishman, and he lias about as g'ood an oninion f.i •;!:, • If a;; theKnglisti- man has. He '11 k< < () Ihings going ui.i' .igyou. He 'II bring vou up to t'le times, and then he won't Ik- likelv to let v<,)U f 11 b:i< k ii;;ai:i. Yes; if i \ .■ ( .i .i>i.i is heard from, Lik? ViUikee will havo iiometlung *>> do\\i(h it, an,iii( (l;i\ ; wrro ppss- -*- iii^' ovi r lliosc \v1h> \vi re at lioinc I'aimy jiir^'lcd lior keys, aiiil lriiiiai)hr.l ii liul-.! at tli>> continiU"! succt's-! of allair.-i hi ^^rs. 'J'iliiiaii's dcpartiiuut. (Irauino took iin ii'itico of her tiiumpli, hut worked away at odds and ends, rcinomboriiij^ things forgottoii, Hmoothing dillicuhios, ivnuv.in^' ohshiclos, niid niakinfj, nioro than she or any oiu* kuiv', ^'k* happiticss oflhoniall. Ki'sc suiit^' and (hiiiccd ahont the hoiis- as usual, and (h'Voti'd soino of hir suiurlhiDus ruer-'N' to fh(* rniheUish- nu'ut of 11 ("I Itwch I'ahrir, whiili was, under her skilMul fm^'ors, destined to assuiue, hy aiid hy, tie- I'oiiu (tf a wedding,' pneket- liandkerclil. f for Kniily. And throu;,'h all, Mrs. Suow was cahniy and sihntly jeusuin;^' the ohjiH't of lier vi.^It to Caiiuk. Throuj^di the ph asant hours of work a'ld ieiMne, in all t'.u-ir talk (d* (Id times, and of tlie present time, ju all moods, ^'ravo nnd gay, she had hut one thought, ono desiro, to, f'siiro her- self hy some unfailing token that her hairns wdre fts gotx] and happy as thiy ought to ho, 'L'he yeaiv- tluit had passod 8ince the haiins had I u parted from her h:; 1 made dauet nhh r than they u\\ to lia\o (lone, Graeme thuight. It was hecauso slio was n ■ so strong as she uned to he, she ;-.aid herself; hut it w.t more than sicdvticss, and iii.^re thin the pa';slng years that h i I rhaiigofl lier. 'J'he drradlul hho(di and ili-^appolntnii nt i her niother'ri (hath, followed so soon hy th • lo-> of M niau an! t!ie laiidt- ter, had been to() nnndi for Janet. It might no! Iia\<' I ii, In-r sh'ou!,' patient mittn'e niiirlil, have withstood it, if the hreaking up nj" the Ixdoved tunuly einde, the nttir \a'jishing (tf her hairnfl i'ri:\n her siyiit, inid not follosved ho 'dose upon m 3C2 JANKT's LuVE and BiCUVICE. i] n »t>ii it. For wcc'k.s kIio liiid hcon utterly prostrate. Tlio Icltci's, \vliic-h toM tli(; biiinis, ui tlicir Ciiiuivliiiii liomo, tlmt tlujir dear fi*i('i\(l was ill, and " woarviuj^ " for them, told them littlo of the terrible Hiin'eriii;^ of that time. The misery that had darkeiH.'d her lirst winter in Merleville eamc! upon her a;^'alu with Iwo-fold power. AVorso than the hoiuo-t-iekne.ss of that Had lime, was the never eeasin;^' pain, made up of sorrow for the dead, and ijiap[)easal)liness could ever eonn* to her, bein/f separated from Ihem, ."^he neillier belie/ed nor desind. Oli! tluMiiisery of that time! The llelds aii Healer. Agaiu the light grew pleasant to her eyes, ,um;t d T.o^n? ani» 3r,3 .. .i\s, heoiiifj in tlio lit not l)t'l«ft iiiitl()n<\ and Janet canio oack IoIkt oM lK)n lift! IxfiJio lu'r(u)tl-|.;ivon work, tlm. .. IJiit slio was never (iuito tlio Raiue. Then' was never quito the ohi sliari) rih;^' in lier kindly voice. She wan not 1«sm cheerful, jxrhaps, in time, but her cIk^i rfiilnosH was of ii far (]niet<'r iiiixl, and Ik r elii(liii;4H were rare, and of the niilde.st, now. Indeed, she hatl none (o chide hut Ihe inotherlosji Kiiiily, who needed little ehidin;.'', and nmeh love. And much love (lid .Innel jjive lu r, vdio had Ikiu dc ir to all the liaiinH, and tli(» espeeial fri< nd of Marian, now iu llt'i',v( n. And ho (lod's jveaee fell oii the deacon's leasant nooks and corners fimikd once more with a look of hoiiie to -Ian* 1, as she jjfn \v cont* nt in the l;nowl(d}4o that her darlin^^s were will ani] happy, thoujjh she mi^^ht never make them her daily care a,\'aiii. JJut she never for^'ot them. Ifci niiienihrane.' of thrm nt'\erf,aewleHS lovin;jf, and tender, urul true. And so, as the years passed, the old lonj^-- w^ came hack, and, day l.y day, {^rew stronger in her lu'art the wish to know aHsnredly that the ehildi -. of her love were liH ixoin} and happy as they on;dit to he. ira."' Slio was t'oiiti-nt witli 110 HiU'K t'vidoiico of happiiioss or goodness as lay on tiu) siir- faco of their pleasant life, so slui waited and watchod. secin" without Reeniing to see, many thin;^'-» (hat less lovinj,' eyes niiglit have overlooked. Slio s.iw the utKjiiiet lij^'ht that \ gU'anied at ti!n(vs in (ir.-.m .'s oye.s, an I tho slni(b)\v of tho clond that now and then red"! on ]\'\r br.iw, even in their most niirthf'il niouKMits. She smiled, as they all did. at tho li.vidy sallie-', and jjrtitty wilfnlncs-i of 11, im', hnt she kwew full Wed, that that which niaih; mirlli in the lo\in;,' home- ('ir(de, nu;,dit inako sorrow for the household darlin<,', when tliu charm of lovo was no lo:i;,'er round her. And so sho watcdied them all, seeing in tril'.es, in cdiance words and uncon- scious deeds, signs and tok.tns foi good m- for evil, that would novor have revealed themselves to (mo who loved Ihem K.'ss. For Will, she had no f.ar. lie was his father's own son,. with his father's work awaiting him. All would be well with Will. Ami for Arthur, too, (he kind and thoughtful elder brodier— (he fath. r and brother of (he little houscdiold, both in oiu', her hopi-s wore stronger than her doubts or fears. It would have gi . n her a Horo heart, indeed, to bidieve him far from the way in which his f idur walked. •' He has a h'lven of worldliiuvss in him. Ml no' deny," said .she to her husb:ind on.- iiighl, ulnn they wero alone in the privacy of tiuir own apartment. " And (In-re is more do- siro for wealth in his heart, and foi' (ii,- honour (hat comes from nnm, that he himsilf kens. He'll juaybe get them, and maybe no'. Hut if ho gets them, they'll no' satissl'v him, and il be gets them no(, he'll g^'t S(uni'(hiiig bet(er. I have small feu! for the lad. lie minds his hither's way> and walk too well to 1)0 long content with his own halting pace. It's a lino life just now, with folk looking uj) to him, and putting trust in him, but hell weary of it. There in nothing iu it to fill, for long, the heart of his father's pon." JANKl « LOVi: AM) SiU. VK"K. 3G5 Aiul in lur qiiiot. waitiii;^' and wutiluii^', Jniut pfi'ow awsiirod for tlictu all lit last. Not lli.-it liny wcro \i yy wi.so or pfood, but licr fjiilh 11 id llicy \\ov<' k(|it ot" (iod yww Klroii^'cr (vory (l)iy ; imd to Ix! cvcf in (iod's keeping, iiicaiitto lliis liiuiiMr', tnislful, Christian woman, (<• liavo all that even In r vcariiin;/ lovo conld cruvu for her daniii;^'.-;. It 1< I'f he r nolhin;,' to fear for them, nothiii;^' to wish in tin ir behalf ; so kIk; viiiuo. to bo lit iK-aco about Ihcni all ; and ff'-nlly checked llie willful words and wavH of l^)S(^ iind wailed patienlly iill (liaemc, <»f her owi accord, Kl.Duld show Ik r the cloud iii the shadow of which hIk! sonictinieH sat. Ah to l''aiu»j, the new claimant for liei* loV(! and inlcM*- ost, she was fal from bein;^' overlool^cil all I his time, and tho pH'tty little ci^'alure jtroveil a far j^n'caf* r niysti ry to tlui f^lu'owd, ri;4hl-j id^nn;^' frli.'ud of the family Ihan seciued at all rca.sonablc. 'Jher(! wei-e timex when, had she seen licr elH failed to say tho same. IJut Faimy was Arthur's wife, and Arthur was neither frivolo.is, nor vain, nor ovirbi-arin;,', ])ut on the con- trary, wise, aij I .stroii;^'-, and ^^'ulle, possesiin^f all the virtues that ever had made; his father a mo lei in Janr-t'H admiriii;^ eyes, and it scNned a l>old tiling', ind \' 1, to tliink li^ditly of liis wife. So kIio nniHe(l, and p(jMil.'.rd, .'ind v."atched, nnd put Faimy's beautiful face and v.'liu'.in,';' Uir.ni.eri, and i»r(tty, aft{(ctionato Wi.ys, iM^^ainst lar v( ly t nI h-:it defects, and said to herself, tho i;^di Arthur's v. ii'e v.as not like Arthur's mother, nor even like his sistt rs, yi t thc^ru wer% vanetios of excel- lence, and siu.dy tho youn/,' man wn.s Ixtter abhitobe trusted in the ehoiee (if a life-lon«jf frieniu and worlli, and Innnhlc {^'DodiuHH, ili;ui lo ([ii:iliti(«M tlmt, uro f.ir less d(!Hervin;.j of tlu! iKiiipiiirsM it l)ri:i;^'S ; and Mr. Ar- llmr iH ii(»' al)()V(' making' a niisiakc. 'J'Ii()iJ;;li liow lie slioultl — niindiii;,' his niotluT as lie jIdcs --ania//'S nic. JJut I'v 'h \v«'ll pleased, ilien^ can l»e no doiiM of thai, as yet, and ^Ii.>s (iil 1 canna but Nvon»ler aflerall is Kaid." And she still wondered. 'rii..r(! woa'o in Ik r voiahnlarv iio f,'e'itler nanie:4 for (Ik; i>nliy Fanny's delo;(s, tlian jniit frivolity aixl vanity, and even after a {^linips • or two of 1m r Hle])ni()tlier, Janet's candid, sfi'ai^dil forward natni" eonld hardly make fttr thos(> deficts all the allowance that was to he made. Sh ^ eonld not reali/(> jiow imjiossihlo it was, that a fashionable «- would have had liille hop( hut for one tiiin;^- — , or enlij^Oiten them to hco \irtues iuvisihle to other eyes, hut it would not do thai, for (lra(Mnc ; uud (Iraemc was tolerant of Fanny, oven at timea when her little airs and exadions mad(> her not qn'iU) n^'eo- alile to her hushaial. She w;\s j)ati"nt ai;d forheann^jf to- wards her faults, and amiled at tlu' little housekeej)!!!;,' airs and assumptions, which Hose* openly, ai.d even in ArthurH pnv^ence, never faihd to rericnt. Indeed, (I raena* refnsed to see Fanny's faults, or she refused to acknowled;^-(! that sho saw IIhmu, and trcaled luu* always with the nspect duo to Iku* brother's wife, and tiie mistress of the house, as well as with the l(>ve a.ud forbearance due to a youn<]f(>r sister. And that Fanny, with all her faults and foil if, loved and tru ted (Jraiuno wuh very evident. Thoro was eontidence be- tween them, to a cortaiu extent at any rate, and Bceing tLcHO th th to a]> wt nol to op Mi me JANin s r.ovK ANn sKijvicK. 807 thin<^'M, Jiiiuit took coiira^'C! to Iio|)(> tluit tlu»r'^ was more in tin) " bonny v;iin ( roiiliiro " tliun it was j^'ivcn ii( r to hoc, iitid to lio])(» also thill Artlmi- niji^lit not ono day find himsrlf dis- ji))i)oint('1" her hrolher's wife. They hud jdeiity of olh< r suhjcets to iliscnss. All theif IMei'leville life was gone over and over iluring thcHu (jiiict Huni* Jiicr thus. Th(! talk v.'as not always gay ; HonictiiiK^s it was gi'avo cnongh, oven nad, hut it was happy, too, in a way ; at any rat(( they never grew w(iary of if. And Mrs. Snow had iiiMch to tell tiieiii :i!»out tlus ])resf'nt slat*' of their old home ; low tho old people wero passing away, H?id the' y(»nng p((ophi wero growing nj) ; how \V( 11 tiie niiMist<'r was renienilx^red Ihero still, and how j.lad all would ho to nee the minister's bairns among tluin again ; and then San # IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I !rlllM lllllM 12.2 I4S 1^ lis IIIIIM 1.8 1.25 1.4 16 ■• 6" — ► * <^ /a /a 'el W ^ \ 23 WEliT MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 Si 3CS jankt's love axi) yKRVicp;. ii' I 111 the fnonrls who would linvc i.ikcu her. Tliis was all to be ro joiced over now. No d'jubt the enrc find paius whicli Norman had needed to bestow on his little ad')})ted sis lor, had done much to correct the native tlioughtlessiic;;^ of his charaeter, and no doubt her love a: id care v>'ould hencefijrth make the haj^piness of his life. So they said to one another with smiles, and not without ^Tatefiil t;Kir,s, in view of the ovcr- (Taling love and care visible in all they had to remember of one and all. iliid ',Vill., wlio seemed to be Graeme's own more than citlier of the othcu- lu'otliers, because she had cared for him, and taught liim, and wat.'hed over him, from the very first, she permitted herself to triumpli a h'tle over him, in private ^vith her friend, and Janet vn a foot passenger, doing l)alllc \sith Iho wind for the possession of his uiiibrcll.i ; ])ut these did not brighten the scene any. It was dismal \vithin door.-, too, Fanny thought. It v/as diu-ing the ihno of ^h\ Sucv,' and "Will's first trip, and Ar- thur had gone away on business, and was not expected homo fjr a day ov two, at h asl. A household of women is not neccessaiily a dismal afl'air, even on a rainy d.ay, but a liouse- hold suddenly deiuived of the male element, is npt to become so in those circumstances, unless some domestic business supposed to be most successful!}^ accomplished at such a time is being carried on : and no wonder that Fanny wan- dered fi'om room to room, hi an uncomfortable state of mind. Graeme and liose were not uncomfortable, lioso had a way of putting aside dillicult music to 1)0 practised on rainy diys, and sh.o was aj^t to ])ecomc so engrossed in her pleas. mt occupation, as t(j take little heed of what was going on about her, and all Fanny's exclamations of discontent were lost on her. Graeme was writing letters in the back parlor, and j\Irs. Snow was supposed to jjo taking her after-dnnier's rest, up stairs, Ijut she came into the room in tune to hear Fanny exclaim petulantly, "And we were very foolish to have an early dinner. That would have boen something to look forward to. And no one can possibly call. Even 'Mr. Green -would be better than nobody — or even Charlie ^Millar. ' " These gentlemen would l)e highly llattercd if they heard you, said Rose, laughing, as she rose to di-aw forward the arin-chaii" to IMrs. Snow. "Are you not tii'ed playing. Rose," said Fanny, fretfully. " By no means. I hope my playing does not disturb you, I tliiuk this march is charming. Come and try it. " I i. ! 370 Janet's love and service. I " No, I tliauk vou. If the music docs not disturb IVIiu Snow, /don't mind it." "I like it," said Mrs. Snow. "The music is clioerful this ilull day. Though I would like a song Vjcttcr." "By and by yon shall have a song. I would just lik'c to go over this two or three times more." " Two or three times ! Two or three huiidi-ed times, vou mean," said Fanny. " There 's no end to Rose's playing when she begins." Then she wandered into the back jiarlor again. "Are you going to write all day, Graeme?"' " Not all day. Has Mrs. Snow come down ? " asked she, coming forward. "I have been neglecting Harry lately, and I have so much to tell him, but I'll soon be done now." " My dear," said ]\Irs. Snow, " dinna heed me ; I have my knitting, and I enjoy the music." " Oh ! dear ! I wish it did 'nt rain," said Fanny. "My dear, tlic earth was needing it," said ]\Irs. Snow, ])y way of saying something, " and it will be beautiful when the rain is over." *'I beUeve Graeme likes a rainy da}'," said Famiy. "It is very stupid, I think." "YeS; I sometimes like a rainj' day. It brings a httlo -cisuro, which is agreeable." Famiy shrugged her shoulders. " It is rather dismal to-day, however," said Graeme. " You look cold with that liglit dress on, Fanny, why don't you go and change it?" "What is the use? I wish Arthnr were coming home. He might have come, I 'm siu'c." ** You may be sure he will not stay longer than he can help," said Graeme, turnmg to her letter again. " And my dear, might you no' take a seam ? It would pass the time, if it did nothing else," said IVIrs. Snow. But the suggestion was not noticed, and partly because she did not wish to interfere, and partly because she had some jANirr ri lom: and seuvice. 371 curiosity to sec how tlic littlo lady would gel out of her discomfort, ]\rrs. Siiow knitted on in silence. "Make something nice for tea," suggested Rose, glancing over her shoulder. " That is not necessary n(>v\" said Fanny, shortly. " Oh ! I only suggested it for your sake — to i^ass the tune," said Rose. It lasted a good while longer. It lasted till Graeme, catchmg Mrs. Snow's look, became suddenly aware, that their old friend was thinking her o\vn thoughts about " ]\IrH. Arthiu'." She rose at once, and shutting her desk, and going to the window where Fanny was standing, said with a shiver : "It 18 dismal, indeed. Fanny, look at that melancholy oat. She wants to come in, but she is afraid to leave her pres- ent shelter. Poor wee pussy." " Graeme, don't you wish Arthur were comiiig home," said Famiy, hanging about her as she had a fashion of dohignow and then. "Yes, indeed. But we must not tell liim so. It would make him vain if he knew how nmch we missed liim. Go and change your dress, dear, and we '11 have a fire, and an early tea, and a nice little gossip in the firehght, and then we won't miss him so much." "Fire !" repeated Rose, looking disconsolately at the pret- ty ornaments of the gTatc with which she hr.d taken so mud i pains. "Who ever heard of a fire in a grate at this time of the year ? " But Rose was overniled. They had a fire and an early tea, and then, sitting in the fii'olight, they had a gossip, too, about many differcjit things. Janet told them more th:in she had ever told them before, of how she had " weiu'ied for them" when they first left Mcrleville, and l)y and ])y Rose said, " But that was all over when Sandy came." " It was over before that, for his coming was long delayed, 372 JANET B LOVK AND SERVICE. as you '11 ir.itifl yoursolves. I was quite content before that time, \mt of ocnu'se it was a ^'cat thing to nio, the coming of my Sandy." " Oh ! how fijiid you must have ])ccn ! " said Eoso. " I wish I had l)cen thcrc^ to sec. Tell ur? what you said to him, and ^^hat ho said to you." "I chima mind what I said to him, or if I said anything at all. And he just said, * Weel mother ! ' with his heartsome smile, and the shine of tears in his Ixmny blue e'en," said Janet, with a laugh that might very easily have changed to a sob ; " and oh ! bairns, if ever I earned a thankful heart to a throne of grace, I did that night." "And would you have known him ? " asked Rose, gently. " Oh ! ay, would I. No' but what ho was nuich changed. I wouhhia have mindnl him, but I wor.ld have kenned him an^^vhore." Janet sat silont with a moved face for a little, and then she went on. " I had had many a thouglit ai)out his coming, and I grew afraid as the time c'h'cw near. Either, I thought, he mnna hke my husband, oi* they wiuna agree, or he will have forgot- ten Jiie altogether, and winna find it easy to call me his mother, or ho '11 disappoint me in some way, I thought. You bee I h;id so set my heart on seeing liim, that I was afraid of myself, and it seemed to be more than I could hope that he slioald be tome all that I desircil. Bnt when ho came, my fears were set at rest. He i;^ an honest, God fearing lad, my Sandy, and I need say nae rnair about him." " And so clever, and handsome ! And what did Mr. Snow say?" " Oh ! his heart was canica captive, from the very first, with Sandy's heartsome, kindly ways. It made me laugh to myself, many a time, to see them togethei', and it made mo greet whih s, as well. All my fears were rebuked, and it ia the burden of my prayers froiii day to day, that I may have a thankful lieart." "And how did Sandy like ]Merleville, and all the peoi)lc?" JANET ft I.OVE AND SERVICE. ( , (( 0, lie liked tliciu wcU, yoii may bo snro. It wonltl havo been very iiii,^-j-at('fnl if lie had not, tlioy made so mncli or him — ]Mr. and ]\[r.s. (Jreoiileiif, CRjiccially, and the ^Nhrles, and plenty besides. He made liims(.>lf very nsefnl to ^Iv. (Ireen- leaf, in manv ^vavs, fnr lie; is a clover lad, mv Sandv. It'a on his busmess that he 's V/est now. ]3ut he '11 soon be home agam. "And Emily! Tell vis jnst vrhat they said to each other at iirst, and v.hafc they thouf^ht of each other." "I canna do that, for I was na there lo Ik iir. lunily sa'v^ my Sandy bcfv)ro I saw him myself, as you'll nund 1 tuld you before." " And wa::! it love at first sight ? " asked Fanny. '• And did (lie course of tnie love for once run smooth," eaid RooC. jNIrs. Snow smiled at their eagerness. "As for t'lo love at Iirst sight — it came very soon to my Sandv. I am no' f;ure .about Emilv. As for its runnmg smooth, there was a wee while it w;is hindered. They had thch" doubts and fears, as was natui'id, and their misiuidor- standings. But, Oh I bairns, it was just Avonderful to sit by and look at them. I saw their happy troubles c(jming on before they saw it themselves, I thii:lc. It was like a stoiy out of a book, to watch them ; or like one of the songs folk used to sing when I was young — the sweet old Scottish songs, that are pa^sing out of nimd now, I fear. I never saw the two together in our garden, but I thought of the song that begins, " Ac sinmitM' nlcht when l)li)lis o' dew, Garretl ilka tliin'i: lool; honny — " Ah ! "Well, (iod has been good to them, and to us all." i " And ]Mr. Sn )W was wuU plea :ed, of couvs'\" said Fanny. *' Pl(>ased is hti.rdlv the v>ord for it. IIo had iust set his iieart on it from the very first, and I h.id, \vhiles, nnicli ado to keep him from soeming to .^h.h; things, and to keep him ivi'-r.i [lU.tting his hand to help them a wee, which i.''ver does, you k";i. Folk must tlnd out such tijJ.Mgs f>r tliei.i elves, and "ft! I ! I 874 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. tho caimicfit hand may liiiulcr, riithtr tliau holp, with tho very best will. ny, ho was well pleased.'' " And it is so iiico that they arc to be so close bosido you. I daresay wo shall hardly knov/ our old homo, it will bo so much improved." "It is improved, but no' beyond your knowledge of it. It was aye a bonny place, you'll mind. And it rv improved, doubtless, for her hither thinks there is nothing too good foj Emily." " And bairns, wo have a' rc;isou to bo thankful. If wc trust our atTairs in God's hands. He'll ' bring it to pass,' as he has said. And if we arc llis, there is no fear but tho very befit things will happen for us in tho end." CMAPTKR XXXlII. '^ ^"TTHO is Mr. (ireoii, iinyliov,' ? " Y Y Tlic (jucstion wjiH addrcKs^od l)yMr. Snow to t'nn company gonorally, as ho paused in his hisurcly walk up and down the galloiy, and stood leaning his elbow on the window, looking in upon them. His manner might have suggested the idea of some mystery in comu^ction with tlio name ho has, ho chews tobaoor), ho is six f«!('t two in his slockinpfs, ho knows tho market valuo of every article and objeel, aniinato and inani- mate, on tho face of the earth, and is a Uvinj,' illustration of tho truth of tho proverb, that tho cents being cared for, no approhonsion need bo entertained as to tho safety of tho doUars." " And a living contradiction of all tho stale old sayings about th(i vanity of riches, and their inabi"lity to give even a transitory content,'' said Charlie, witli laughing deiianco at Rose. " Quite true, Charlie," said Arthur ; " if 'Slv. ( Ireen has ever liad any doul)ts about tho ahuighty dolltu' being tho 'ulti- mate end,' ho has nursed or coiubatcnl his doubts in se- cret. Nothing has transpired to indicate luiy such wavering of faith." " Yes, it is his only standard (.f wcuih in all things material and moral," said Charlie. "When ho enters a room, you can see by his look that ho is putting a price on all things in it — the carjiet and curtains — tho bo(jks and pretty things — oven the ladies—" "Yes," continued Arthur ; "if he were to come in hero just now, it would l)c — ]Mrs. Snow worth so mucli — naming tho sum ; Miss Elliott so much more, because she has on a silk gown ; Mrs. Elliott more still, Ijocause she is somehow or other very sincy, mdecd, to-night ; ho would appreciate details that go bc^'ond mo. As for llosio, she would be the most valuable of all, according to his estimate, because of the extraordinaiy shmuig things on her head." " The possibility of their being only imitations, might sug- gest itself," interposed Charlie. " Yes, to bo sure. And imitation or not, they would indi- cate all the same tho young lady's love of linory, and suggest to his acute mind the idea of danger to the purse of her fu- ture possessor. No, Rosie wouldn't have a chance with him. JANKT S l.OVT. ANT) RTinVTcr!. 377 You Tioodii't frown, R do, you liiivou't. AVlu llur it is tlio shining' thiu^^s on your hoatl, or tho new watch Jiud chain, or th(> ^ont'ral woakncss in tho mat tor of l)onnotH that has hoon ilevolopin^*' in your cliarrwotor lately, I can't h:\\, hut noihinjjf can 1)0 plainer, than Iho fact, that hitherto you have failed to maUo the smallest im])rossion on him." "A circumstance which cannot fail to <;ivo strength to tho general hnpression that hois made of cast iron," said Charlie. " Artlmr, I am Hhockinl and astonished at you," said Uoso, as soon as she was permitted to spealc. *' You have forgotten, Charhe, how kindly ho cared for your brother when ho was sick, long ago. And Ham' says that his hardness and soltish- nesR is more iii appearance, than real. Ho has a vei-y Idud heart." "Oh ! if you come to his heart. Miss Rose, I can't sjieak for that. I haye never had an opportunity of satisfying my- self as to that particular. I (hdn't Know he had one, indeed, and should doubt it now, if we had not Harry's authority and yours." I. "You R(H\ Rosle, when it comes to the discussion of heaiis, Charlie gets beyond his depth. He; has nothing to say." " Especially tender hearts, " said Ciiarho ; " I haye had a little experience of a flinty ai*ticle or two of that sort." " Charlie, I won't haye you two quarreling," said Oraomo, laughing. " l^oso is right. There is just a gi-ain or two of ti*uth in what they haye been saying," she added, turning to ]\Ir. Snow. ]Mr. Green is a real liye Yankee, with many yalua- ble and excellent qualities. A little hard — 2^^*i"^^''^P^) ^ littlo worldly. But you should hear him speak of his mother. You would sympathize with him then, Charlie. He told r.ie all about his mother, one eyeningthat I met him at Groye House, I think. He told me about the old homestead, and his father's saw-mill, and the log school-house ; and his manner of speaking quite raised him in my opinion. Ai'tliiu' is wrong in Baying he cares for nothing but money." " But, who is he ? " asked Mr. Snow, with the air of one much ♦ .[ I I ?:? 3TS JANKT^ T.OVE AtU) RFr.vTnr. intcrcHtod. His qnostion was tliiH time addressed to Fanny, who had soatcd herself on ilic window seat close by her hus- band, and slio replied caj^erly, '* Oh ! he is a rich merchant — ever so lich. Ho is going to give np business, and travel in Europe." "For tli(! inii>roveniont of his mind," said Arthur. "I don't know what ho ^^ocs for, but he is very rich, and may do what lie likes. Jle has built tlu! handsomest house; in the State, Miss Smith tells me. Oh! ho is ever so rich, and he is a bachelor." "I want to know? " said Mr. Snow, accoptinfir Fanny's tn- mnphant climax, as she gave it, with great gravily. "He is a gi*oat fiiend of mine, and a great admirer of I^Iiss Elliott," said Mrs. Grove, with her lips intending that lier face should say much more. "DoteU?"saidMr. Snow. " A singular and eccenti'ic person you see he must be," said Will. "A paradoxical specimen of a live Yankee. Do n't fi\)wn, Miss Rose. Mrs. Grove's statement proves my assertion," said Charlie. " If yoii would like to meet him, Mr. Snow, dine with us on Fiiday " said Mrs. Grove. "I am qiute siu'e you \\ill like and admii'o each other. I see many jiomts of resemblance between you. Well, then, I shall expect you all. Miss Elhott you will not disappoint me, I hoi^e," " But so large a i:»aiiy ! Mrs. Grove, consider how many there are of us," said Graeme, who knew as well as though she were speaking aloud, that the lady was saying that same thing to herself, and that she was speculating as to the ne- cessity of enlarging the table. "Pray, don't mention it. We are to have no one else. Quite a family party. I shall be quite disappointed if I don't 308 you all. The garden is looking beautifully now." " And one more would n't make a bit of difference. Misa Rose, can't you speak a good word for me," whispered Charlie. JANKTB LOVE AND 6KUVICE. 370 ;{1 f "Tluiiik .you," Hiiid rrmciuo, in aiiBwcr to Mra Orovo. "I have 1)0(11 lon;."^''' to show ^Irs. Snow your garden I lujpc tlio roHcs arc noo ,^ u«e over." "Oh, no!" Haid Artluir. "There are any number left; and Cliaili— in a state of pleasurable excitement that was infectious^ and the whole party set off in fine spii'its. Graeme and Rose exchanged doubtful glances as they passed the diiiing* room windo\vs. There was an ominous display of silver on the sideboard and the eiilaiginent of the table had been on an extensive scale. "If she has spoiled Jp net's evening in the garden, by in- viting a lot of smj)ids, it will bo too bad," whispered Rose. It was not so bad as that, however. Of the guests whose visits were to be " put over," on this occasion, only Mr. PromL^ate, a very pleasant, harmless gentleman^ and Fanny's old admii-er, Captain Starr, came. As to making it a state affair, and sitting two or three hours at table, such a thuig was not to be thought of. INIr. Snow could eat his dinner even in the most uiLavoroble cncumstances, in a tenth i3art of that time, and so could Mr. Green, for that matter ; so within a reasonable period, the ladies found themselves, not in the drawing-room, but on the lawn, and the gentlemen soon followed. It was the perfection of a summer evenmg, with neither dust nor insects to be a drawback, with just wind enough to make tremulous the shadows on the lawn, and to waft, from the garden above the house, the odors of a thousand Howers. The garden itself did not suipass, or even equal, in beauty of arrangement, many of the gardens of the neighborhood , but it was very beautiful in the unaccustomed eyes of IVIr. and Mrs. Snow, and it was with their eyes that Graeme looked at it to-night. They left the others on the lawn, tlie gentle- men — some of them at least — smoking in the sha'le of the gi'eat cedar, and Rose and Fanny making wreaths of the roses the children were gathjriug for them. The garden proper was behind the house, and thither they bent their steps, Graeme mwaixlly cougratulating herself that she and Will, were to have the pomting out of its beauties to their friends all to themselves. They did not need to be pomted out to the keen, admii-ing eyes of Mr. Snow. Nothing escaped him, as he walked slowly before them, looking over j.u^kt'b love and sekvice. 381 his shoulder now and tlion to remark on something' that par ticiilarly interested Lini. I\rrs. Snow's n-entlo exelaniationa alone broke the silence for sunie time. She li.i''vred wiHi an interest, which to Graf mc a\ as (juite pathetic, over llowers familiar in her childhood, but strangers io her for many a vciar. "It minds me of the Ebi)a Gardens," said she, after a little. " Not that it is like them, exce})t for the liowers. Tlio Eblwi Gardens were on a level, not m terraces like this. You winna mind the Ebba liardens, Miss Graeme.'' They had reached by this time a sunniier house, which commanded a view of the whole {garden, and of a beautifid stretch of countrv bevond, and hero thev sat dcnvn to wait the coming of the others, whoso voices tliey heard Ix'low. "No," said Graeme, "I was not at tlie El)ba often. But I remember the avenue, and the ghmpse of tlie lake that comes so unexpeetedly after the iirst turning from the gate. I am not sure w-]iether I remember it, or whetlicr it is only fancy ; but it nmst have been very Ix ;mtiful." "It is only fancy to you, I doubt, for we turned many a time after going in at the gate, Ijefore the lake came in sight." "Perhaps so. But I don't think it can all be fa.icy. I am sure I mind the lak(\ wilh the sv/aiis sailing oil it, and the Avco green islets, and the liranches of the Virch trees drooping down into the water. Don't you mind '.' " "Yes, I mind well It was a ])onny place," said Janet, \7itli a sigb . " But, ^vliat a tiny lake it must have been ! I remember we could quite well see the flower,:; on the other side. It could not have been half so largo as Merle vdlle Pond." "It wasn't hardly worth ^Yhile caiiing it a lake, was it ? " Baid Mr. Snow. "It did for want of a bigger, you know," said Graeme, laughing. " It made up in beauty what it wanted in size.''' " It was a bonny spot," said Mrs. Snow. *•' Aiid the bkds ! Whenever I want to imagine bird musio M i 382 Janet's love and seevice. in perfection, "^ sliut my eyes, and think of the birches drooping over the water. I wonder ^vhat birdn they wero that Rang there ? I have never heard such shiging of ])irds since then." "No, there arc no such singing birds here," said INIrs. Snow. " I used to miss the hirk's song in the morning, and the evening voices of the cnshat and the bhickbird. There are no birds hke them here." " Ain't it just possible that the music may be fancy, too. Miss Graeme," said Mr. Snow, who did not hke to hear the regretful echo in his wife's voice when she s2)oke of "home." Graeme laughed, and Mrs. Snow smiled, for they Ijcth under- stood his feeling very well, and Mrs. Snow said, "No, the music of the birds is no fancy, as you might laiow fi'om Sandy. Tliere are no birds hke them here ; but I have learned to distinguish many a pleasant note among the American birds — not like our own Ihities at home, but very sweet and cheerful notwithstanding." " The birds were real birds and the music was real nuisic. Oh ! I wonder if I ever shall hear it again ! " said Graeme, with a sigh. " You will hear it Will., and see the dear old place. Oh! how I wish you could take me too " AVill. smiled. " I shall be glad to hear the birds and see the places again. But T don't remember the Ebba, or, indeed, any of the old pla<. >s, except our own house and garden, and yom* mother's cottage, Mrs. Snow. Imhid the last time we were there well." '•I mind it, too," said Mrs. Snow, gravely. " And yet, I should be almost sorry to go back again, lest I should have my ideas disturbed by finding places and people different from what I have been fancying thorn aU this time. All those old scenes are so many lovely pichu*es to me, and it would be sad to go and find them less lovely than they seem to me now. I have read of such things," said Graeme. '* I would na fear anything of that kind," said IVIi'S. Snow , " I mind them all so well." *' Do you ever think ;j^ou would Hke to go back again ? * JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. 383 Baid Will. " Would n-ot you like to sec the old fnces and tho old places once more ? " "No, lad," said Mrs. Snow, cmpliatieall}'. '"I have no M'isli ever to go Ijaek." "You are afi-aid of tlu} sea? Bui the steamers are very different from the (;ld ' Steadfast.' " "I was not thinking- of tlie sea, thon.i^h I would dread that too. But why should I wish to go back? There are two or three places I ^vould like to see — the glen where my moth- er's cottage st(jod, and two or three graves. And when I b'hut my eyes I can see them here. No, I have no wish to go back." There was a moment's silence, and then !Mrs. Snow, turn- ing her clear, kind eyes on her husband, over whose face a wistful, exi^ostulating look was stealing, said, " I like to think about the dear faces, and the old places, fcometimes, and to speak about them with the bairns ; it is both sad and pleasant now and then. But I am quite con- tent with all things as they are. I wouldna go back, and I woiildna change my lot if I might. I am quite content." INIi*. Snow smiled and nodded in his own peculi'ir fashion for rejDly. There could be no doubt of kin content, or Mrs. Snow's either, Graeme acknowledged, and then her thoughts went back to the time when Janet's lot had been so different. She thought of the husband of her youth, and how long tho gi'ave had closed over Inm ; she remembered her long years of patient labor m the manse; the bitter home-sickness of the ih'st months in Merleville, and till the changes that had come since then. And yet, Janet was not changed. She was the very same. The qualities thni had made her invaluable to them all those years, made the haj^piness of her husband and 'jher home still, and after all tho changes that hfe had brought she was content. No one could douljt that. And Graeme asked herself, would it ever be so with her? \'. nild she ever cease to regret the in'evocable past, and learn to gi*ow happy in a new way ? She prayed that it might be so. She longed for the tranquil content of those old days before her heart »!' 1 384 JA^'Et's L0\E AXD SEliVICE. was fetartlcd fi-om its pfirlliood's c[iilct. How lou^^ it seemed since she had been quite at ponco ^Yith herself ! Would she ever be so agaiu? It did not seem possible. Slie trietl in vain to fancy herself among other scenes, uith other hopes, and friends, and interests. And yet, hero ^Yas Janet, not of alight or changeful natiu'O ; how she had loved, and lost, and suffered ! And yet she had grown content ? " What arc you thinking about, Giaenic ?" said Will., who, as well as Mr. Snow, had been watching her troubled face. Graeme started. " Oh ! of a great many things. I don't know why it should have come to my mind just now, but I was thinking of a day in Merleville, long ago — an Indiau-sunnner day. I remember walldng about among the fallen leaves, and look- ing over the pond io the hills l^eyond, wondering foolishly, I suppose, about what the futiu'c might bring to us aU. How lovely it was that day !" " And then you came and stood within the gate, and hard- ly gave ine a look as I passed out. I mind it, very well," said I\Ir. Snow. "I was not friends with you that dav. But how should you remember it ? How should yoii know it was that day, of which I was thinking ?" "I saw, by your face, you wore thinking of old times, and of all the changes that had come to you and yours ; and it was on that day you first heard of one of them. That is how I came to think of it." " And then yuu came into the house, and called me from the foot of the stairs. You werna well pleased with me, either, that day," said Mrs. Snow. " Oh ! I was afraid ; and you spoke to me of aunt Marian, and of our own Menie, and how there might be sadder changes than even your going away. Ali, me ! I don't think I have been quite at peace with myseK shico that night." " INIiss Graeme ! my dear," expostulated IMi's. Snow. "No, I have aye been afi-aid to find myself at peace. But I am glad of one thing, though I did not think that day it JAIsET S LOVE AND fcEliVICE. as; would over inuko mo glad. Uiiflc Sampson, did I over tell you — I am afraid I never did — liow glad I am now, that you wore stronger tlian I was, and prevailed — in taking Janet fi'om UH, I mean ?"' She was standing behind him, so that he did not sec her face. IIo did not tmn round, or try to see it. Ho looked towards his wife, with a grave smile. " I don't think you ever told me in words." "No, because it is only a little while that I have been really glad ; it is only since your coming has made me sure she; is happier — far ha})pier with you, and Euiily and Sandy, than over Ave could make her now; almost as happy as she deserves to be." "I reckon, tlie happiness ain't all on one side of the house, by a gn'eat deal," said j\Ir. Snow, gravely. "No, I know that — I am sure of that. And I am glad — so glad, that it reconciles me to the knowledge that we can uever be quite the same to her as we used to Ijc, and that is saying much." *' Ain't you most afraid that it might hurt her to hear you say so '?" said Mr. Snow, his eyes never leaving his wife's face. They were quite alone by this tinii'. AVill. had obeyed the call of the chilch'cn, and was gone away. " No, I am not afraid. She knows I would not hui't her wiUingly, by word or deed, so you must let mo siiy how yery glad I am we lost her, for her sake. And when I remember all that she has lived tiirough — all the sorrow she has seen ; knoAving her steadfast, loving heart, and how little she is given to change, yet seeing her hapj)}', and with power to make others happy, it gives mo courage to look into the future ; it makes me less afi*aid." His eyes left his wife's face now, and tuiiicd, with a look of wonder, to Graeme. " What is it, dear?" he asked. " Is there anythmg I may not know?" " No. Only I am glad for Janet's sake, and for yours, and for mine, too, because " I » Ih' 386 jankt's Love and bebvice. It would not have been easy to say more, and, bcsiclos, the others were condng up the wallr, and, partly because there were tears in her eyes, and jiartly because she shrunk ner- vously from the excessive friendliness with which it seemed to be Mrs. Grove's intention on the occasion to disthiguish her, she turned, lioi)ing to escajjc. Slie did not succeed, how- ever, and stood still at the door, knowhig very well what Would be Mrs. Clrove's fir.st remark. " Ah ! I sec you have an eye f(jr th» beautiful." She had heard her say it just as many times as she had stood with her on that very beautiful spot ; and she never expected to stand there without hearing it, certauily not if, as on the present occasion, there were strangers there too. It was varied a little, this time. " You see, Mr. C reen. Miss Eili(jtt has an eve for the beau- tifiil. I knew we should lind her here, with her friends." The rest was as usual. " Observe how entirely different this is, from all the other views about the place. There is not a glimpse of the river, or of the mounttiins, except that blue lino of hills, very dis- tant mdced. The scene is quite a pastoral one, you see. Can you imagine anythmg more tranquil ? It seems the very do- mam of silence and repose." The last remark was not so effective as usual, because of the nc»ise made by Charlie Millar and ^Yill., and the young Groves, as they ran along the broad walk full in sight. " It is a bomiy, quiet place," said Mrs. Snow. " The gardd herself that she had already won the confidence and admiration of Mr. and ^Irs. Snow, by her warmly-expressed sympathy with their "rather pecuhar" views and opinions. "Wliether Mr. Green would be so fortu- nate was questionable, so she went on quickly, K 3S8 .TANKT'H I.OVK AND SKRVICK. •' Miss Klliott, }\\r. Oroon lifiB bc^n icWmr^ mc anont liifl l)laco as ^vo caino up tlio ^^iirdcn. It must Ijo very lovely, Ktanding, as it docs, on tlio borders of one of those vast prairies that we all admire." Tims appealed to, it was nnpardonablo in Graeme that she should respond to the lady's adniiruif^- enthusiasm with only the doubtful assent implied in a hesitating- "Indeed;" l)ut her enthusiasm was not to be damped. "There must be «o]nothing <:franiit I don't think wo are absolutely neeessaiy to her liappiness." " Of coiu'se, she will have to lose you one of these days. We cannot expect that you will devote yourself to youi* bro- thers always, I know." " Especially as they don't stand in particular need of my devotion," said Graeme, stillly, a?; she ofl'ored her arm to Mrs. Snow. " Let us walk again. What can Will, and the childi'en be doing '? Something extraordinary, if one may judge by the noise." Mi's. Grove rose to go with them, but lingered a moment 300 JANETS X.OVK AND SKIiVlCM. bcliiiid to remark to Mr. Bnow on tlio cxcecdinf^- lovolinoms of jNIisH EUioti'n (liKi)()siti()n aiul character, lior fjfi'cat superiority to yoiiii^- ladies in ;,'eneral, and especially on tlie devotion so dl)parcnt in all her intercourse with her old friend. " And 'svith you, too,'' she addend ; *' I scarcely can say which she honors most, or on which she most relies for coun- sel." "There," said she to herself, as she followed the other;? down the walk, "I have ^avcn him an openhi-^-, if he only hri;j the sense to use it. One can see what he wants easily cnouf^h, and if he knows what is forhisadvantap^e howill{i-et the good word of his coiniti-ynum, and he ought to thank me for the chanco." CIIArTEK XXXIV. "CTTIIY I\Ir.s. (irovo tliDU^lit Mr. CJrccn mi^;lit iieotl (C Y Y openiiifj^ for jiii} thing ho had to say to Mr. Snow ditl not ai)poar, aH ho did not avail himself of it. It was Mr. Sn(jw who spoko lirst, after a short silence. *' (rOing to give up business and settle down. Eh ?" " I have thought of it. I don't believe I should enjoy lifo half as well if I did, however." " How much do you enjoy it now ?" inquii'cd Mr. Snow. " Well, not a great deal, that is a fact ; but as well as folks generally do, I reckon. But, after all, I do believe to keep hard to work is about as good a way as any to take comfort in the world." Mr. Green took a many-bladed knife fi'om his pocket, and plucking a twig from the root of a young cedar, began fashioning it into an instrument slender and smooth. " That is about the conclusion I have come to," repeated he ; " and I expect I will have to keep to work if I mean to get the good of life." *' There are a good many kinds of work to bo done in the world," suggested jMi*. Snow. ]\Ir. Green gave him a glance curious and inquiring. " Well, I suppose there are a good many ways of worldng in the world, but it all comes to the same thuig i:)retty much, I guess. Folks work to get a living, and then to accunnilato property. Some do it in a large way, and seme in a small "way, but the end is the same." " Suppose you should go to work to spend youi' money now?' suggested IMi'. Snow, again. " Well, I 've done a httle in that way, too, and I h^i^Q 25 u ■ J » ' : * 302 JANKT H Lr»VK AND SETIVICE. iibont rnmfi to ilio conclusion tliat tliat don't pay fts well a* tho inulvinj,' of it, as far as tlic comfort it f,aves. I ain't a very rich man, not near ho rich hh folks think ; hut I had fj;>)t a kind of nick of doin.'^j tho sumo thin^' all tlu, time, and ho I thou^''lit I would ivy Komclhin;^ C'lsc3 a Hitdl. Ho I rather drew up, thi/U,L;h I ain't out of husincss yot, by a ^TCai; Tcji. I th()u;^ht I would try and sco if I could make a homo, ho I built. ]3ut a houHO ain't a home — not by a ^Tcat ni^dit. I havo got as handsomo a place as auyl)ody need wiwh to have, but I would rather live in a hotel any day than havo thu bother of it. I don't more than half beUevo I .shall over hvo there louf,' at a time." lie paused, and whittled with gi'Oat earncstncsH. "It Bcems a kind of ap-j^a'avfitiii'^^ now, don't it, when a man has worked hard half hi.s life and more to make prop- erty, that ho shouldn't bo able to enjoy it when ho haa got it." " What do you suiiposo is tho reason ? " asked ]\Ir. Snow, gravely, but with rather a preoccupied air. He was wonder- ing how it was that ]\Ir. (irecn should havo been betrayed into giving his di'caiy con vlcncca to a conq^arativc stranger. *' AVell, I don't know," rciplied INIr. Green, mcchtatively. " I suppose, for one thing, I havo been so long in tho mill that I can't get out of the old jog easily. I should havo begun sooner, or havo kikcu work and pleasiu'c by turns as I went along. I don't tako much comfort in what seems to please most folks." There was a pause ; ]\L-. Snow had nothing to say in reply, however, and in a littlo "Mr. Green wont on : . " I havo n't any very near relations ; cousins and cousin's children are tho nearest. I have helped them some, and would rather do it than not, and they are willing enough to bo helped, but they don't seem very near to mo. I enjoy well enough going to see them once in a wliile, but it don't amount to much all they caro about me ; and, to tell the truth, it ain't much I care about them. If I had a family of my own, it would be different. "Women folks and young JANKTri I.oVi: AND SKUVICE. 393 a to to foUvH onjc^y Rpen{liii«j[ monov, rina(l, lio y;i\\a his now friend ix look ont of tlu^ corner of his oycH that it nii;^'ht liavo Rurprisod liini a littlo to sto ; but Mr. Snow saw nothin^jf ut the moment. To wonder as to why tluH new acre are some things I know as well as tuo best of them, I reckon. Have you ever been out West ? " " I was there once a good many years ago. I had a gi'eat notion of going to settle there when I was a young man. I nm glad I did n't, though." " Money ain't to })e made -'liore anything like as fast as it used to be," said Mr. Grei.ii. *' But there is chance enough, if a man ha.- a head for it. I have seen some cool business done there at one time and another." The chances in favor of Mr. Snow's " word m season " were becoming fewer, he .: bath afternoon, with some such words as these, came back to him, and just for a moment ho reahzed their unchangeable truth, and for that moment ho know tliat his life had been a failure. A pang of regret, a longing for another chance, and a sense of the vanity of such a wish, smote on his heart for an instant and then passed away. He rose from his seat, and moved a few paces down the walk, and when he came back he did not sit down again. His cedar twig t\ as smoc'thed down at both ends to the finest possible point, and sifter bal- ancing it for a. minute on his forefingers, he tossed it over his ehoulder, and shutting his knife with a cUck, put it in his pocket before ho spoke. "Well, I don't know as I am much better off for t'- at," said he, discontentedly. "I su^^poso you mean that I ought to get rehgion. That is no new idea. I have heard Ihat eveiy time I have gone to meeting for the last tliirty years, which hasn't been as often as it might have been, but it has been often enough for aU the good it has done me." He lool cd at Mr. Snow as if he expected him to make some If .»•'! »'!1-' r 398 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE soi-t of a reply, but he was silent. He was thinking ho-^ vain any words of his would bo to convince liini, or to show him a more excellent way. He was thinking of the old time, and of the talk ^^ asted on him by the good people who would fam have helped liim. At last he said, gTavoly : " It would n't amount to nnich, all I could say to you, even if 1 was good at talking, which I ain't. I can only tell you that I never knew what it was to be satislicd till I got relig- ion, and I have never been discontented since, and I don't believe I ever shall again, let what "will happen to me." He paused a moment, and ;.dded, '' I don't suppose any tiling I could say would help you to see things as I wish you did, if I were to talk all night. Talk always falls short of the mark, ui^kss the heart is prepared for it, and then the simplest word is enough. There are none better than the words I gave you a minute ago ; and when everything in the world seems to be faiUng you, just you try what trust m the Lord will do." Nothing more was said. The sound of approaching foot- steps warned them that they were no longer alone, and m a httle Mrs. Elliott and Rose were seen coming up the walk, fol- lowed by Arthiu* and Captain Starr. They were discussing something that interested them greatly, and their merry voices fell pleasantly on the ear. Very pretty both young ladies looked, crowned with the roses tlicv had been weavinnf into wreaths. The gi'ave look which had settled on Mr. Green's face, passed away as ho watched their approach. "Pretty creatures, both of them," remarked he. " Mrs. El- liott appears well, dont she ? I never saw any one improve eo much as slio has done in the last two years. I used to think her — well iK^t very superior." "She is a pretty little thing, and good tempered, I think," said Mr. Snow, smihng. "I shoukhi't wonder if our folks made something of her, after all. She is in better keeping than she used to be, I guess." " She used to be — well, a little of a flirt, and I don't be- lieve she has forgot all about it yet," said Mr. Green, nod- JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. r.O'j ding in the dii'ectio.i of Captain Starr, with a knowiiic* loolc. The possibility of a married woman's amusing herself in tliat way was not among tlie 8ul)jcets to which Mr. Snow h:i(l given his attention, so he had notliing to say in reply. "And the other one — she understands a little of it, too, 1 guess." "A\Tiat, Rosie? She is a child. Graeme will teach lier better than that. She despises such things," said IVIi'. Snow, warmly . '* She don't fhrt any herself, does she? " asked Mr. (Irecn, coolly. " Miss Elliott, I mean." ]Mr. Snow turned on him astonished eyes. " I don't know as I understand what you mean by Ihrting. I iil\vays supposed it was something wrong, oi-, at least, some- thing unbecoming in any woman, married or single. Ciraemo ain't (Mio of that sort." Mr. Green shnigged his shoiilders incredulously. " Oh ! as to its being wrong, and so forth, I don't know. They all do it, I guess, in one way or other. I don't suppose IMiss Graeme woulil go it so strong as that little woman, but I guess she knows how." The voice of Rose prevented INIr. Snow's indignant reply. " But, Arthiu', you are not a disinterested judge. Of course you would admire Fanny's most, and as for Cajitain Starr, ho is " " He is like the ass between two bundles of hay." "Nonsense, Arthur. Fanny, let us ask ]\Ir. Snow," said Rose, sprmging forward, and slightly bending her head. "Now, Uncle Sampson, which is prettiest? I '11 leave the de- cision to you." "Uncle Sampson" was a very pleasant soimd in I\rr. Snow's ears, and never more so, than when it came from the ips of Rose, and it was with a loving as well as an admii-ing ;.ook that he answered — " \Yell, I can't say which is the prettiest. You are both as 2)retty as you need to be. If you wei e as good as you aro pretty!" " I ! 400 JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. Rose pouted, impatient of the laughter which this speech excited. " I mean om* wreaths. Look, mine is made of these dear httle Scotch roses, with hero and there a moss-rose bud. Fanny's, you sec, are all ojien roses, white and damask. Now, which is the prettiest ? " I She took her wreath from her head in her eagerness, and held it up, admiruigly. "Yours ain't half so pretty as it was a minute ago. I think, now, I should admhe IVIi's. Elliott s most," said Mr. Green, gi'avely. They both curtosycd to him. " You see, Eosie, Mr. Green has decided in my favor," said Faimy, triumphantl}'. " Yes, but not in favor of your wreath. The others thought the same, but I don't mind about that. It is om' -wi'caths I want to know about. Let us ask Graeme." But Graeme did not come alone. The little Groves camo with her, and Will, and Charlie followed, a rather noisy paiiiy. The little gu'ls were dchghted, and danced about, exclaimmg at the beauty of the llowery crowns ; and in a lit- tle, IMiss Victoria was wearing that of Rose, and unitating the au's and gxaccs of her elder sister in a Avay that must have encom'aged her mother's hopes as to her ultimate suc- cess in life. The other begged pitcously for Famiys, but the was too well awai'c of its charming effect on her o^vn head to yield at once to her entreaties, and in the midst of the laugh- ing confusion, that accompanied the carrying of the child's point, Graeme and Mrs. Snow, who confessed herself a littlo tu'cd after her walk, entered the summer-house again. IVIi-s. Grove and IMi'. Proudfute entered with them, and the others disposed themselves in groups about the door. Mr. Green stood leaning on the door-x^ost looking in upon them. " INIiss Elliott," said Mr. Proudfute, i^resently, " what haa become of you for a long time? I have hai'dly seen you for years — for a year at least — and we used to meet so often." Graeme laughed. ?i Janet's love and service. 40 • " I have seen yoii a great many times witliiii a year. I am afraid my societ;y 'loos n't make the impression on you it ought. Have you forj^ottou yoiu* New Year's visit, and a visit or two besides, to say n(jthinpf of chance meetings in tho street and in the market ? " , " Oh, but excuse mo. I moan we have not met in society. You have been making a horniit of yourself, which is not very kind or very compliment ury to your friends, I assure you." i "I am very glad to hear you say so," exclaimed Mrs. Grove. " That is a subject on which jVIiss Elliott and I never agree — I mean the claims society has ui>on her. If sho makes a hermit of herself, I assiu'o you she is not pennitted to do so without remonstrance." " Your ideas of a hennit's life differ horn, those generally held," said G)'aeme, vexed at the personal turn of tho conver- sation, and more vexed still with IMi's. Grove's mterferenco. " "What does the ballad say ? ' A scrip with fruits and lierbs well stored. And water from the Bi)rinfc.* "I am afraid a hermit's hfo would not suit me." " Oh ! of coui'se, Ave are sx:)eaking of comparative seclusion," said ISIi'S. Grove. " Still, as ladies are supposed to have a fancy for going to extremes, Miss ElHott's tasto for quietness is the most desirable extreme of the two." The remark was addressed to IVIr. Green, who was an inter- ested listener, but 'Mi'. Proudfute answered it. " I am by no means sure of that, my dear madam. I can miderstand how those who have an opportunity of daily or frequent intercourse with ]\Iis3 Elliott should be content to tlnnk so ; but that she should withdraw herself altogether from society, should not be i:)ermitted. "Wliat charming par- ties, I remember, we used to enjoy." '' Mr. Proudfute," said Graeme, gi'avely, " look at IVIrs. Snow's face. You are conveying to her the idea that, at one time, I was quite given up to the pursuit of pleasure, and she is shocked, and no wonder. Now, my own impression is, that I was never very fond of going into society, as you call 'T-rr^. 402 JANET fl LOVE AND BEUVICE. it. I certainly never met you more tlian two or three tiniofl — at largo parties, I mean." ]\'Ir. Proudfute 1)()W('(1 low. "Well, that shows how profound was the impression which yom* society made on me, for on looldng l)a'.!k I imiformly associate you with all the pleasant assemblies of the season. You went with us to Beloeil, did you not ? " Graeme shook her head. ' " Well, no wonder I forget, it is so long ago, now. You were at ]\Irs. Iloxbiu-y's gi-eat affau', were you not '? It happened not long before ]\Ii'. Elphinstone's death. Yes, I remember you were there." " Y''cs, I remember you were kind enough to point out to n\e the beauties of that wonderful picture, in the little room up stairs," said Graeme, smiling. " Yes, you were ill, or slightly unwell, I should say, for you recovered immediately. You were there, IVIi*. Green, I remem- ber. It was a gi'cat affau*, given in honor of Miss Elphin- stone and your fi'iend Ruthvcn. By-the-by, Miss EUiott, they lay themselves open to censm'e, as well as you. They rarely go out now, I hear." " I am to be ccnsui'ed in good company, it seems," said Graeme, laughing. "I suppose you see them often," continued ho. "You used to l)e quite intimate with my pretty cousm — I call her cousin, though we are only distantly connected. She is a very nice httle v/oman." " Yes, I believe you used to be very ultimate with them both," said Mrs. Grove, " and there has hardly been any intercourse since Fanny's marriage. I have often wondered at and regi'ctted it." "Havej'ou?" said Graeme, coldly. "We have had little intercourse with many old fi-iends since then." " Oh ! yes, I daresay, but the Euthvens are very different from most of your old friends, and worth the keeping. I must speak to Fanny about it." " Wo saw IMiss Elphinstone often diu'ui^ the first winter just Janet's love and service. 403 after hor rctmii. That was tlio winter tliat ^Ir. Proiidfuto ro members as so gay," said Graeme. "Did I ever toll you about the begiuniiiyf of llosie's ac(iuaiiitaiico with her, long before that, wheu she wandered into the garden and saw tho gowaus ? " " Yes, dear, you told me about it in a letter," said ]\[rs. Snow. "I never shall forget the lirst glimpse I got of tliat bunch of flowers," said Graeme, rather hiUTiedly. *' llose has it yet Mnong her treasui'es. IShe must show it you." But Mrs. Grove did not care to hear about llosie's flowers just then, and rather perversely, as Graeme thought, reverted to the falling away of their olf(niled to a Hide-table to admire tlieni ^vitll liiin. INIr. Proudfiito divided his attention between tlicni and the piano, to Wliieh llosc and Fanny had betaken themselves, till at the in^^'estion of jNFr.s. Grove, Arthur cliallen^jfod liiiii to a ^^amo pf chess, ^vhich lasted all the cveninf^. ^Mrs. Grove devoted herself to IVIrs. Snow, and surprised her by tiie sipiificant glances slic sent now and then mi the dii'ection of (Jraerao and Mr. Green ; while Mr. Grove j^ot ISIr. Snow into a comer, and enjoyed the satisfaction of pouring out his heart on the harbor question to a new and interested auditor. " Hose," said I^'anny, as they sat together the next day after dinner, " what do you think mamma said to mo this morning? Shall I tell you '? " " If it is anytliing particularly uitcresting you may," Baid Rose, in a tone tliat implied a doubt. " It was about you," said Fanny, nodthng significantly. " Well, the subject is interesting," said Rose, " whatever the remark might be." " What is it, Fanny ? " said Artlnu*. " Rosie is really very anxious to know, though she pretends to be so in(hfferent. I daresay it was some appropriate remarks en her ilii'tation with ihe gallant captain, last night." ** Mamma did n't mention Captain StaiT, but she said she had never noticed before that Rose was so fond of admii'ation, and a little inclined to llu-t." Rose reddened and bit her Hps. " I am much obliged to Mrs. Grove for her good opinion. Were there any other appropriate remarks ? " " Oh ! yes ; plenty more," said Fanny, laugliing. " I told mamma it was all nonsense. She used to say the same of me, and I reminded her of it. I told her we all looked upon Rose as a child, and that she had no idea of flirting — and such things." " I hope you did not do violence to your conscience when you said it," said Arthur, gravely. JANI'T 8 I-OVE AND SERVICK. 405 1" *' Of coiirso not. But still when I bogan to think ubout it, I conld not Ix* qiiib' snro." • "Sot a thief to catch a thief," said h^r husband. Fanny shook her fiii;i[cr at liiui. •'But it was n't Captain Starr nor Charlie ^Millar mamma meant. It was ]\Ir. (Ireen." The cloud vanished from Bosio's face. Shu lan,%'hed and clapped her hands. Iter brothers lau^^died, too. ] "Well done, Bosie," said Arthur. "But from some manoGUvcrinpf I observed last-nij^ht, I was knl to believe that Mrs. Grove had other views for the gentleman." *' So she had," said Fanny, ca^^erly. " And she says Boso may spoil all if she divides his attention. It is just what a man of his years is hkely to do, manmia says, to fall in lovo with a young girl like Bosio, and Graeme is so nnich moro suitable. But I told mamm;i (Jraemc would never have hnn." " Allow mc to say, Fanny, that I tliink you might Ihid somo more suitable sul)ject for discnssion with JVIi's. Grove," said Rose, indignantly. Arthur laughed. "You ought to be verv thankful for the kind interest taken in yom* welfare, and in Graeme's, too. I am sm-c JNIr. (ireen would be highly flattered if he could be aware of the sensation he is creating among us." " Mr. Green admires Graeme very much, ho told manmia ; and mamma says he would have proposed to her, when he was hero before, if it had not been for Mr. Buthven. You know he was very intimate here theii, and every body said ho and Graeme were engaged. IMamma says it was a gi*eat pity he did not. It would have prevented the remarks of ill> natured people when IMr. l^utliven was married — about Graeme, I mean." *'It is be hoped no one will be ill-natm-ed enough to repeat anytliing of that sort in Graeme's hearing," said Ai'thiu*, very much annoyed. "Oh I don't be alaiTued. Graeme is too well accustomed by this time, to Mrs. Grove's impertmcnces, to allow anytliin(^ she says to trouble her," said Boso, with flashing eyes. If 40G JANLT B L(JVr: AND 8KUVICIC. Mi'H. Siiow'h hiind wuh laitl nniily on that of the young ^irl, who liiul risen in hor in(li;,Mi:itii)n. "Sit down, my dear," hIio whispcrcMl. "NonHon.so, ItoHic," said hor brother ; "there is nothln.tj to be vexed about. How can you Ijo ko foohsh ? " "Indeed," said Taiuiy, a htlth; IVi^-'htcned at the cxeito- nunit Khe had raised, " niannna di(hi't mean anvtliiii'' that you would n't Uko. She ojily thou^lit " " Wo had better say nothing more about it," said Arllinr, hiterruptin*,' her. "I dare say (Jraenie can mana;jfc lier own afTairs without lielp from other people. But there is nothinpf to be vexed about, Kosie. Don't put on afaeo like that about it, you foohsh lassie." "AVhat is the matter hero, good people?" said Graeme, entering,' at the moment. "AVhat are you qnarrellin;,'' about? What ails Kosie V " "Oil ! INIvs. (irove has been {giving her some fi;ood advice, whidi she don't receive so meekly as she nn'j,'hf," said Arthiu*. " That is very unij^rateful of you, llosio," said her Rist(!r. ^Irs. (irove's interference did u't seem a suflicient matter to frown al)0ut. "How is she now, my dear?" inqm'red Mrs. Snow, by way of changhig the sultjcet. Sin' was Mrs. Tilman, who had of late l)ccomo subject to sudd(>n attacks of illness, " not dangerous, bui. severe," as she herself declared. They had become rather frc^ittcnt, but as they generally came on at night, and were over before morning, so that they did not specially interfere with her work, they were not alarming to the rest of the household. Indeed, they seldom heard of them till they wore over ; for the cousiderato Mrs. Tilman w.is wont to insist to Sarah, that the ladies should not be disturbed on her account. But Sarah had become a little inicomfortablc, and had confessed as much to Graeme, and (iraeme desired to be told the next time she was ill, and so it happened that she was not present when a subject so in- teresting to herself was discussed. .TANK!' H LOVE AND 6ERVIUE. 407 " Is Mrs. Tilinan ill apfiiiii ? " ftskod Fanny. " How annoy. ing 1 Sho is not V017 ill, I hope." " No/'Huid (« men ic, (quietly; "Hhowill bo licttcr tomorrow." Th;it night, in the retuTnient of tlieir t'lmnilu'r, Mr. unci MrH. Snow wore; in no hasto to Ix'gin, as was their cnstoni, tho comparing of notes over tliu events of tlu; day. This was usually the way when anything not very pleasant had occur red, or when anything lia t ;i': i-li ■• il '! itJl JANKTH LOVE AND SKRVICE. *gTeat Imsinoss talents coiild hove saved the finn from iiiin. jOh ! no ; it was not for money. ' j " Well, my dciir, I r-m f^lad to hear you say it. I am f^lad that Allan Ruthven hasna changed. I think you said ho hasna changed ?" " At ih-st I thought him changed, but afterwards I thought him just the same." " Maybe it was her that wanted th(; money ? If her father was hi trouble—" "No, ch! no! You could never have such a thought if you had ever seen her face. I don't know how it hajipened. As all maiTiages liajiioen, I suj^i^oso. It was veiy natui'al ; but we won't speak about it." " They seem to have forgotten theii' friends. I think you said you seldom see them now." " We don't see them often. They have been out of town a good deal, and we have fallen a little out of acqusiintance. But we have done that with many others ; we have made so many new acciuaintances since Arthiu-'s mamage — fi-iends of Fjimiy's, you know ; and, somehow, notlung scorns quite the same as it used to do. If Mr. Ruthven knew you were in town, I am sure he would have been to see j'ou before now." " I am no' wearying to see him," said ^Nlrs. Snow, coldly. " But, my dear, is your work of more value than your eyes, that you are keeping at it m the dark '?" Graeme laughed and laid ii down, but did not leave the ■window, and soon it gi'ew so dark that she had no excuse for looking out. So she began to move about the room, busying herself with putting away her work, ajid the books and papers that were scattered about. Janet watched her silently. The shadow was dark on her face, and her movements, as she displaced and arranged and re-arrranged the triiles on the table were quick and restless. When there seemed notlnng more foi* her to do, she stood still with an uneasy look, on her face, ns though she thought her fiiend were watching her, and then moved to the other end of the room. lie er JANET d LOVE AND SERVIOI'^ 415 "My dear," said Mrs. Snow, iii a little, "how old are you now r Graonic liuigliod, aud came and took her old seat. " Oh ! Janet, you must not ask. I have come to the point when ladies don't like to answer that question, as you miybfc very well know, if you would stop to consider a minute." "And what p(/int may tliat l)e, if I may ask?" " Oh ! it is not to be told. Do you know Fannv be;jins to Bhake her head over me, and to call me an okl maid." " Ay ! that is aye the way with these young wives," said Janet, scomfiiUy. " There must be near ten years between you and Rose." "Yes, quite ten years, and she is almost a woman — past sixteen. I am growing old." " What a wee white Koso she was, when she first fell to your care, dear. "\Vho would have thought then tliiit she would over have gi'own to be the bonny creat lu'e she is to-day ?" " Is she not lovely ? And not vain or spoiled, though it would be no wonder if she were, she is so much admu'ed. Do you mind ^^hat a cankered wee fauy she used to be?" " I mind well the patience that never wearied of her, even at the worst of times," said jNFrs. Snow, lading her hand tenderly on Graeme's bowed head. " I was weary and imjiatient often. "What a long time it is since those days, and yet it seems like yesterday." And Graeme sighed. " Were you sighing because so many of your years lie bo- liiDd you, my bairn ?" said ]Mrs. Snow, softly. "No, rather because so many of them lie before me," said Graeme, slowly. " Unless, indeed, they may have more to show than the years that arc past." " We may aU say that, dear," said Mrs. Snow, gi-avely. "None of us have done all that we might liave done. But, my baini, such dreary words are not natural from yoimg lips, and the years before you may be few. You may not have time to grow weary of them," (it J Hi i M !!• !■■!» ilG JANET S 1,0 VE ANIJ SERVICE. I "Tliut is truo," said Grtioinc. ^' And I ought not to gi'ow "Wfsary, be tlicy iiiany or few." TluTo was a loii*]^ pause, livokcu at last ])y Graome. "fTauot," said h\\o, "do you think I coiUd keep a school?" *' A school," repeated ISlrs. Snow. " ( )h, aye, I daresay you could, if you put your mind to ii. What would hinder you? It "would d(!pcnd some on what kind of a school it was, too, I daresay." " You know, teaching is almost the only thing a woman can do to earn a livelihood. It is the only thing- 1 could do. I don't mean that I could take charge of a school ; I am afraid I am hardly fit for that. But I could t( ach classes. I know French well, and music, and Gern^an a httlo." " ]VIy dear," said Mrs. Snow, gi-avely, " what has put such a thought in yoiu' head ? Have you spoken to your brother about it? AVliat does he say?" " To Arthur ? No, I have n't spoken to him. He wouldn't like the idea at first, I suppose ; but if it were best, he would reconcile liimself to it in time." •' You speak about getting your livelihood. Is there any need for it? I mean, is there more need than there has been ? Is not your brother able, and ^^•illing " "Oh! yes, it is not that. I don't know. Our expenses are greater than they used to be — double, indeed. But there is enough, I suppose. It is not that — at least it is not that onl}', or chicly." " What is , then, dear child ? " asked her friend. But Graeme could not answer at the moment. There were many reasons why she should not continue to live her present unsatisfying life, and yet she did not know how to tell her friend. They were aU plain enough to her, but some of them she could not i^ut in words for the hearing of Janet, even. She had been saymg to herself, all along, that it was natural, and not wrong for her to grow tu-O' I or her useless, aimless Hfe, and to long for earnest, bracing work ; such as many v woman she could name was .toiling bravely at. But with Janet's kind hand on her head, and her calm, cleai' eyes lool led. nev it. sail self Hi >ri shoi coul JANET :i I.nVF. AND SKUVICK. 417 lookirpf dovm upon lior face, hIio was constrainod to ackiiow* ledge that, but for one thiiij^, this restlcsa dlsoontont niiglit never have fouml li(>r. To licrsclf slio was willin.u; to confess it. Lonof apfo she had h)o!:e(l her soitow in the face, and said, ""With God's heh^ I ean bear it." Slie deehired to her- f-clf that it was well to l)e roused from slijth, even by a ^eat sorrow, so that she eould find work to dt). ]hit, that Janet Bhould look upon her with pityin<:]f or reprovinj^ eyes, sho could not bear to think ; so sho sat at her feet, ha\'inpf no pOY/er to open her lips, never thinkinpf that by her silenee, and by the unquiet li^ht in her dt)wneast eyes, more was revealed to her faithfiil old fnend than s]ioken words eould have told. ""Wliat is it my dear?" said IMrs. Siiuw. ''I8 it i^ridc or discontent, or is it somethinf^ worse ? " Graeme laughed a little bitterly. " Can anything be worse than these ? " '• Is it that vour brother is wearving of vou ? " "No, no! I eould not do him the wrong to think that. It would grieve him to lose us, I Imow. Even when ho thought it was for my happiness to go away, the thought of parting gave him pain." " And you have more sense than to let the aire and non- sense of his baim-wifc vex you ? " Graeme was silent a moment. Sho did not care to enter upon the subject of Arthm-'s wife just at this time. "I don't think you quite understand Fanny, Janet," said she, hesitating. "Weel, dear, maybe no. The l)airns that I have had to deal with have not been of her kind. I have had no ex- perience of the like of her." " But what I mean is that her /aults are such as every one 'can see at a glance, and she has many sweet and lovable qualities. I love her dearly. And, Janet, I don't think it is quite kind in you to think that I giaidge Fanny her proper place in her own house. I only -^^sh that " " You only wish that she were as able to fill it with credit. r ' 'u f I p 41S JAXl.Tri LOVE AND Sl.KVlCi:. as you arc willin«,' to let hor. I wish tLat, too. And 1 am veiy fur from thinking' thai you ^'I'udgu her uuythin^' that nho on;j[ht to liavc." "Oh ! Janet," Hiud Graeme, ^vith a sigh, "I shall never bo able to make yon understand." " You might try, however. You havena tried yet," said Janet, gently. "It is not that you are gi'owing too proud to cat bread of your brother's winning, is itV " " I don't think it is pride. I know that Arthur considers tliat what belongs to him l)elongs to us all. But, even when that is true, it may bo better, for many reasons, that I should cat bread of my own winning than of his. Everybody has something to do in the world. Even rich ladies have their Ikjuscs to keep, and their families to care for, and the claims of society to satisfy, and all that. An idle hfe like mmo is not natural nor right. No -wonder that I weary of it. I ought not to be itUe." " Idle ! I should lay that imputation at the door of any- body in the house rather than at yours. You used to be over fond of idle dreaming, but I see none of it now. You arc aye l)U8y at something." "Yes, busy about something," repeated Graeme, a little scornfully. "But about things that might as well bo left undone, or that another might do as well." " And I daresay some one could be foimd to do the work of the best and the busiest of us, if we wcrena able to do it. But that is no' to say but we may l)c worldng to some piu'- pose in the world for all that. But it is no' agreeable to do other folks' work, and let them get the wages, I '11 allow." "Will, said someihing like that to me once, and it is possible that I may have some despicable feeling of that soi-t, since you and he seem to tlniik it," said Graeme, and her ■voice took a grieved and desponding tone. " My dear, I am bringing no such accusation against you. I am only sajdng that the like of that is not agreeable, and 'X is not profitable to anybody concerned. I daresay IVIrs. Arthur fancies that it is her, and no' you that keeps tho hou She it. oug has << wha whoi (( told JANET H LOVE AND SERVICE. 410 hoiiBO in a stato of perfection that it is a ploasiirc to sco. {She persuadoH her huHl)aucl of it, at any rate." "rannydoe.s not mean — she does not know much about it. lint that is one more reason why I oui^lit to go. She ou^^'ht to have the responsibihty, as well as to fancy that she has it ; and they would get used to behig without us in time." "Miss (iraenie, my dear, I think I nmst have told you what vour father said to me after his th-st attack of illness, when ho thought, maybe, tlie end wasna far away." " About our all staging together while wi; could. Yes, you told me." j "Yes, love, and how ho trusted in you, that you would always le, to yoiu* brothers and Rose, all that your mother would have been if she had been spjired ; and how siu'o he was that you would ever think less of yourself than of them. My dear, it should not be a light thing that would niiiko you give up the tnist yoiu' father left to you." " But, Janet, it is so different now. "When we first came here, the thought that my father wished us to keep together made me wilhng and glad to stay even when Arthur had to stiTiggle hard to make the ends meet. I knew it was better for him and for Hairy, as well as for us. But it is different now. Arthur has no need of us, and would soon content himself without us, though he may think he would not ; and it may be years before this can be AVill.'s home again. It may never be his home, nor Harry's either." "My dear, it will be Harry's home, and Will.'s, too, whilo it is yours. Tlieii' hearts will aye turn to it as home, and they wouldna do so if you were only coming and g<»iiig. And as for Mr. Arthur, ^Eiss (4raeme, I put it to yourself, if ho were left alone with that bonny ^ ee wife of his, would his home be to him what it is nowV ^\'ould the companion- ship of yon l)airji siillice for lus happiness?" "It ought to do HO. A man's wife ought to be to him more than all tbe rest of the worhl, when it is written, * A man shall leave all, and cleave to his wife.' Married peoplo ought to suffice for one another." H fl U%i 420 JANKTrt I.OVK AM) 8EIIVICE. "Well, it may bo. And if yoinvcro Icaviiif,' yoiu* brotlior'a hoiiso foj* a Louso of your own, or if you wore coininf» with UH, an luy IiusIkukI si cms to Lavo Hot liis heart on, I would think it dillVront. Not that I am miro of it myself, much an it would dcli^'ht mu to havo you. For your ])rothcr needs you, and your bonny now bister needs you. Have patience ■with her, and witli yourself, and you will make something' of her in time. She loves you dearly, thong) i she is not at all times very considerate of you." Clraemo was silent. "What could she say after this, to prove that she could not stay, that she must {^o away. "Wlioro could she tm'n now V She rose with a si^h. " It is growing dark. I will get a light. But, Janet, you must let mc say one thing. You are not to think it is be- cause of Fanny that I want to go away. At first, I was un- bapi)y — I may say so, now that it is all over. It was less for myself and Hose than for Arthur. I didn't think Fanny good enough for him. And then, everything •was so diller- eut, for awhUe it seemed impossible for mo to stay. Fanny ^vas not so considerate as she might have boon, about our old friends, and about household ailUirs, and alxnit Nelly, and all that. Ai'tluu' saw^ nothing, and Rosie got vexed some- times. AVill. preached patience to us both; you know, gen- tlemen cannot miderstand many tilings that may be vexa- tious to us ; and we were very unconifoi-table for a while. I don't think Fanny was so nmch to blame; but her mother seemed to fancy that the new mistress of the house was not to be allowed to have her place without a struggle. Ai-thur saw nothing wrong. It was laughable, and iiiitating, too, sometimes, to see how Wind he was. But it was far better he did not. I can see tbut now." " Well, we went on in tliis way a while. I daresay a good deal of it was my ftiidt. I thuik I was i^atient luid forl3ear- ing, and I am quite sm-e I gave Fanny her own place from the very tii'st. But I was not cheerful, partly because of the changes, and all these httlo things, and partly for other rear Bous. And I am not demonstrative in my fiiendliness, like J^VWKTb LOVE AMD bEitVlCli. 421 Rosie, you know. Funny soon canio to bo (iuito frank juul nico with Kowii', antl, by and l)y, with nio too. iVnd now, cvorythhi;^' ^'ot.s on just as it ou;^ht with us. There in no {•(jkhu'SH between \\», and you must not think there is, or that it is because of Tanny I nnist go away." She paused, anil l)e;,'an to arran;j;o the hinip. " Never niind the Ught, dear, unk)ss yoiu' work canna bo left," Baid 'Mlih. Snow ; and hi a little Graeme came and sat do^^^l again. " iind about Fanny's not being good enough for Arthur," she went on. "li people really love one another, other tilings don't seem to make so mueh dillerenee. Ai'thur is eon- tented. And Janet, I don't think I am altogether seltlsh in my wish to go away. It is not entirely for my own sake. I tliink it would be better for them l)oth to be left to eaeh other for a httle while. If Fannv has faults, it is l:)etter that Artluu" should know them for tlie sake of both — that ho may learn to have patience with them, and that she may learn to correct them. It is partly for them, as well as for Hose and me. For myself, I must have a change." *' You didna use to weary for changes. What is the rea- son now? You may tell iiic, dear, sm'cly. There can be no reason that I may not know V" Janet spoke softly, and laid her hand lovingly on that of Graeme. "Oh! I don't know. I cannot tell you," she cried, with a sudden movenient away from her friend. " Tlie very spu-it of imrest seems to have gotten possession of me. I am th'ed domg iiothhig, I suppose. I want real earnest work to do, and have it I will." She ruse liastily, but sat down again. " And so you think you would like to keep a school T said Mrs. Snow, quietly. "Oil! I don't know. I onlv said that, Ijecauso I chd not know what else I could do. It woidd be work." "Ay. School-keeping is said to be hard work, and thank- less, often. And I daresay it is no better than it is called But, my d»ar, if it is the work you want, and not the Wi>^;es, I'- ll 422 JANET 8 LOVE A.ND SEIIYICE. surely among the tlioi'sands of this great town, you might find somethmg to do, some work for the Lord, and for his people. Have you never thought about working in that way dear V" Graeme had thought of it many a time. Often had she grieved over the neglected little ones, looking out upon her from narrow lanes and alleys, with pale faces, and great hungry eyes. Often had the fainting hearts of toilers in the ■wretched places of the city been sustained and comforted by ner kind words and her alms-deeds. There were many hum- ble dwellings within sight of her home, where her face camo like sunlight, and her voice like music. But these wore the pleasures of her life, enjoyed in secret. Tliis was not the work that was to make her life wortliy, the work for God and man that was to f U the void in her life, and still the pain in her heart. So y!ie only said, (quietly, " It is not much that one can do. And, indeed, I have lit- tle time that is not occupied with something that cannot be neglected, though it can hardly be called work. I caiiTiot tell you, but what with the little things to be cared for at homo, the visits to be made, and engagements of one kind or other, Little tune is left. I don't Icnow hov,' I could make it other- wise. My time is not at my own disposal." ISIi's. Snow assented, and Graeme went on. *' I sui:)pose I might do more of that sort of work — caring for poor people, I mean, by joining societies, and getting my- self put on committfes, and aU that sort of tlnng, but I don't think I am suited for it, and there are plenty who like it. However, I daresay, that is a mere excuse. Don't you mmd, Janet, how INIi's. Page used to labor with me about the sewing meetings." " Yes, 1 mind," said I\Irs. Snow, with the air of one who was tlmikiiig of something else, in a little she said, hesitii- thigly : " Miss Graeme, my dear, you speak as though there were nothing between hving in your brother's house, and keeping «";:sa:aiH;a£5t- im JAITET^S LOVE AKD SEEVICE. 423 a school. Hcavo you never glanced at the possibility that sometime yon may have a house of your OAvn to keep." Graeme Liughctl. " AVill. said that to me once. Yc8, 1 have thought about it. But the possiliilitv is such a slight one, that it is hardly worth while to take it into account in making plans for the futui-e." " And wherefore not ?" demanded Mrs. Snow. "'VMierefore not?'' echoed Graeme. " I can only say, that here lam at six and twenty; and the probabilities as to mar- riage don't usually increase with the years, ::irtcr that. Fan- ny's fears on my account have some foundation. Janet, do you mind the song foolish Jean used to sing ? * The lads that cast a glanco at ine I dhina care to see, And the lads that I would look at Winua look at me.' " Well, dear, you mustna be angiy though I say it, but you may be ower ill to please. I told you that before, you '11 mind." " Oh ! yes, I mind. But I convinced you of your crj-or. Lideed, I look upon myself as an object for connniscration rather than blame ; so you mustna look cross, and you mustna look too pitiful either, for I am going to prove to you and Fanny and all the rest that an old maid is, by no means, an object of pity. Quite the contrary." " But, my dear, it seems strange-like, and not quite right for you to be setting your face against what is plainly or- dained as woman's lot. It is no' aye an easy or a pleasant one, as many a poor w^oman kens to her sorrow ; but " " But, Janet, you are mistaken. I am not setting my face against anything ; but why should you blame me for what I canna help? And, besides, it is not ordaintnl that eveiy woman should many. They say man'ied life is liap[)ier, and fill that ; but a woman may be happy and useful, too, in a single life, even if the higher happiness be denied her." .1'^^ ^f v% I I' ' I ; 424 Janet's love and service. " But, my dear, what ailed you at liim you sent away tlie other week — him that Eosio was telling me of ? " " Rosie had little to do telling you anything of the kind. Nothing partieular ailed me at him. I liked him very well till . But we won't speak of it." " Was ho not ft-ood enough ? He was a Chiistian man. *D^ and well off, and well-looking. What said youi* brother to your refusal ? " persisted Janet. " Oh ! ho said notliing. What could he say ? He would have known nothmg about it if I had had my will. A woman must decide these things for herself. I did what I thought right. I could not have done otherwise." "But, my love, you should consider " " Janet, I did consider. I considered so long that I came very near doing a wrong tlimg. Because he was Arthur's friend, and because it seems to be woman's lot, ai?u in the common course of thmgs, and because I was resJe^^s and discontented, and not at peace with m^'self, and nothing seemed to matter to me, I was very near saying ' Yes,' and going with him, tUcugh I eared no more for hhn than for half a dozen others \\honi you have seen here. Wliat do you think of that for consideration ? " " That would have been a great wrong both to him and to youi'self. I canna think you would ever be so sinful as to give the hand where the heart is withheld. But, my dear, you might mistake. There are more kinds of love than one J at least there are many manifestations of ti'ue love ; and, at your age, you are no' to expect to have your heart and fancy taken utterly cajitivo by any man. You have too much sense for the like of that." •' Have I ? " said Graeme. " I ought to have at my age." It was gi'owing (juite dark — too dark for Mrs. Snow to see Graeme's troubled face ; but she knew that it was troubled by the sound of her voice, by the weary postui'e into which Bhe di'ooped, and by many another token. " My dear," said her friend, earnestly, " the wild caning away of the fancy, that it is gx*o^viIlg the fashion to call love, IS con lov hca] Lor( fate the just SI ment reply Janet's love and service. 425 is not to be desired at any ago. I am not denying that it comes in yoiitli ^vith great power and sweetness, as it came to yonr father and mother, as I mind well, and as you have heard yourself. But it doesna always bring happiness. The Lord is kind, and cares for those who rash blindly to their fate ; but to many a one such wild ca2:)tivity of heart is but the forermmer of bitter pain, for which there is no help but just to ' thole it,' as they say." She paused a moment, but Graeme did not, by the move- ment of a linger, indicate that she had anything to say in reply. "Mutual respect, and the quiet esteem that one friend gives to another who is worthy, is a far surer foimdation for a hfetimo of happiness to those who have the fear of God before their eyes, and it is just possible, my dear, that you may have been mistaken." " It is just possible, and it is too late now, you see, Janet But I '11 keep all 3'ou have been saying in mind, and it may stand me in stead for another time, you ken." She spoke lightly, but there was iu her voice an echo of bitterness and pain that her friend could not bear to hear ; and when she raised herself up to go away, as though there were nothing more to be said, Janet laid her hand lightly but firmly on her shoulder, and said, " My dear, you are not to be vexed with what I have said. Dc you think I can have any wish but to see you useful and happy ? You siu'ely dinna douljt me, dear ? " "lam not vexed, Janet," said she. "And who could I ti-ust if I doubted you ? " " And you are not to think that I am meaning any disrc^ spect to your new sistei', if I say it is no wonder that I dinna find you quite content here. And when I think of the homo that your mother made so happy, I canna Ijut wish to see you m a homo of yonr own." " But happiness is not the only thing to be desii*ed in this v/orld," Graeme forced herself to say. " No, love, nor the chief thing — that is ti'ue," said Mrs. Snow. I I hi, : : a 426 JANET S LOV]-: AND SIOEVICE. " And even if it were," contiimcd Graeme, " tlicre is more tlian one way to look for happiness. It seems to me the chances of happiness are not so uuecpial in single and mar- ried life as is generally supposed." " You majaia be the best judge of that," said ]VIi*s. Snow, gi-avely. " No, I suppose not," said Graeme, with a laugh. " But I have no patience with ^he nonsense that is talked about old maids. A\liy ! it seems to be thought if a woman reaches thirty, still single, she has failed in life, she has missed the end of her creation, as it were ; and by and by peoi)le begm to look upon her as an object of pity, not to say of contempt. In this very room I have heard shallow men and women speak in that way of some who are doing a worthy work for God and man in the world. " " INIy dear, it is the way with shallow men and women to put things in the wrong places. Why should you be sur- prised at that ? " *' But, Janet, more do it than these people. Don't you mind, the other day, when Mrs. Grove was repeating that absurd story about Miss Lester, and I said to .'ler that I did not believe IMiss Lester would marry the best man on the face of the earth, j-ou said in a way that turned the laugh against me, that you doubted the best man on the face of the earth wasna in her offer." " But, Miss Graeme, I meant no reflection on yom* friend, though I said that. I saw b}' the sliming of your eyes, and jthe color on your cheek, thai you were in earnest, and I thought it a pity to waste good earnest words on yon shallow ,vonian." "Well," said Graeme, with a long breath, "you left the impression on her mind that you thought her right and mo eay wrong 5> " That is but a sniidl matter. And, my dear, I am no' sure, and you canna be sure either, that Mrs. Grove was altogether wrong. If, in her youth, some good man — not to (( JA2;Et's love AIs'D SERVICE. 427 Bay the best man on the face of the earth — LacI offered Io\q to yonu fiiend, are you sure she would have refused him ? " " There ! — that is just what I dishke so much. That is just what Mrs. Grove was hinting with regard to IMiss Lester. If a woman Uves single, it is from necessity — according to the judgment of a discriminating and charitable world. I know that is not the case with regard to Miss Lester. But even if it were, if no man had ever gi'aeiously signiiied his aj^probation of ht!r — if she wore an old maid from dire neces- sity — docs it follow that she has lost her chance in life ? — that life has been to her a failure ? " If she has failed in life ; so do God's angels. Janet, if I could only tell you half that she has done ! I am not intimate with her, but I have many ways of knowing about her. If you could know all that she has done for her family 1 She was the eldest daughter, and her mother was a very delicate, nervous woman, and the charge of the younger chikh^en fell to her when she was quite a girl. Then when her fatlier failed, she opened a school, and the whole family depended 0]i her. She helped her sisters till they manied, and liber- ally educated her younger brothers, and now she is bringing up the four children of one of them who died young. Her father was bedridden for several years before he died, and ho Uved in her home, and she watched over him, and cared for him, though she had her school. And she has prepared many a young girl for a life of usefuhiess, who but for her Uiight have been neglected or lost. Half of the good she has done in this way will never be known on earth. And to hear women who are not worthy to tic her shoe, }»assing their pa- tronizing or their disparaging remarks upon her ! It in- censes me !" " My dear, I thought you were past being incensed at any- thing yon shallow woman can say." " But she is not the only one. Even Arthur sometimes provokes me. Because she has by her laborious profession made herself independent, he jestingly talks about her banjf i; 428 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. :■ i !i stock, and abont her being a good speculation for some needy old gentleman. And because that beautiful, soft gi^^y hair of hers will ciu'l about her pale fa^'o, it is liinted that sho makes the most of her remaining attractions, and would bo nothing loth. It is despicable." " But, my dear, it would be no discredit to her if it were proved that she would marry. She has a 3'oung face yet, though her hair is gi'oy, and she may have many years before her. Why should she not marry ?" " Don't speak of it," saitl Graeme, with gi'eat impatience ; " and yet, as you say, why should she not ? But that is not the question. "What I declare is, that her single life has been an honorable and an honored one — and a happy one too. Who can doubt it ? I'here is no married woman of my ac- quaintance whose life will compare with hers. And the high place she will get in heaven, will be for no work she will do as ]Mrs. Dale, though sho were to marry the Reverend Doctor to-night, but for the blessed success that God has given her in her ^vork as a smgle woman." " I believe you, dear," said Mrs. Snow, warmly. " And she is not the only one I could name," continued Graeme. " She is my favorite example, because her position and talents, her earnest nature and her piety, make her work a wonderful one. But I know many, and have heard of more, who in a quiet, unobtrusive way are doing a work, not 80 great as to results, but as true and holy. Some of them are doing it as aunts or maiden sisters ; f;ome as teachers ; some are only hiunble needlewomen ; some are servants in other people's kitchens or nurseries — women who woulil be spoken of by the pitying or slighting name of ' old maid,' who are yd more worthy of respect for the work they arc doing, and for the uifluence they are exerting, than many a mar- ried woman in her sphere. Wliy should such a woman be pitied or despised, I wonder ?" "Miss Graeme, you look as though you thought I was among the pitiers and despisers of such women, and you are wrong. Every word you say in their praise and honor is Janet's love and seuvicf!. 420 ti'utb, aud camia be gainsaid. But that docsna prove what you began ^vith, that the chn.nccs of happiness in niarricfl and single life are equal." " It goes far to provQ it — the chaneo.s of usefulness, at any rate." '*No, my dear, because I dare say, on the other hand, many could be told of wlio fail to do their work in single life, and who fail to get happiness in it as well. IHit the one cIjiss over against the otlier, and then consider the many, many women who marry for no other reason than fi-oni the fear of living single, it will go far to account for the many unhapi)y marriages that wo see, and far to prove that marriage is tho natural and proper expectation of woman, and that in a sense slio (Jors fail in life, who falls shoi-t of that. In a ccrtaiu sense, I say." "But it does not follow from that that she is thenceforth to be an object of pity or derision, a spectacle tc men and angels !" " Wliist, my dear ; no, that docsna follo^v of necessity. That depends on herself somewhat, though not altogether, and there arc too many smgle women who make spectacles of themselves in one way or other. But, my dear, what I say is this : As the world is, it is no easy thing for a woman to warstle through it alone, and the help she needs she can get better fi-om her husband than from any other friend. And though it is a single woman's duty to take her lot and make the best of it, w^th God's helj:), it is no' to be denied, that it is not the lot a woman would choose. My s:iying it docsna make it true, but ask you tho women to whom you ju,-,tly give so high a place, how it was with them. "Was it their j own free choice that put them whore they arc ? If they speak tho tnith, they will say 'No.' Either no man asked them — though that is rare — or else in youth they have had their work laid ready to their hands. They had a father and mother, or brothers and sisters, that they could not forsake for a stranger. Or they gave their love unsought, and had none to give when it was asked. Or they fell out with their •m 430 Janet's love and service. lovers, or another wiled them away, or death divided them. Sc^metimes a woman's life pasHes quietly and busily away, with no thoughts of the future, till one day she wakes ui> with n gi'eat start of surprise and j^ain, to the knowledge that her youth is past — that she is an ' old maid.' And if a chance offer comes then, ten to one but she shuts her eyes, and lays hold on the hand tliat is held out to her — so feared is she of the solitary life before her." "And," said Graeme, in a low voice, " God is good to hei* if she has not a sadder wakening soon." "It is possible, my dear, 'nit it proves the truth of what I was saying, all the same ; that it is seldom by a woman's free choice that she finds herself alone in life. Sometimes, but not often, a woman sits down and counts the cost, and chooses a soUtary path. It is not every wise man that can discern a strong and beautiful sj^irit, if it has its home in an unlovely form, and many such are passed by ^^'it^ a slighting look, or are never seen at all. It is possible that such a woman may have the sense to see, that a soHtary life is happiness com- pared with the pam and shame a true woman must feel in having to look down upon her husband ; and so when the wise and the worthy pass b}', she turns her eyes from aU others, and says to herself and to the world, with what heart she may, that she has no need of help. But does that end the pain ? Does it make her strong to say it ? May not the slight im^ihed in bemg overlooked rankle m her heart tiU it is changed and hardened? I am afraid the many single TV omen we see and hear of, who hve to themselves, giving no R}inpathy and sceldng none, proves it past all denying. ]My dear, folk may say what they like about woman's sphere and woman's mission — and great nonsense they have spoken of late — but every true woman kens well that her right sphere is a home of her own, and that her mission is to find her happiness in the happiness of her husband and children. There are exceptional cases, no doubt, but that is the law of nature. Though v/hy I should be saying aU this to you, IVIisg Graeme, my d(^ar is inair than I ke«." JANETS LOVE AND SKKVICE. 431 Thoro was a long silence after this. i\Ir.-<. Snow knew w oil that (Jraonic nat without reply because slio would not hp.vo tho conversation conic Ijack to. her, or to homo affau's, agaiji. But her friend had sonietliingniorc to say, and though her hi art ached for the pain she might c^\c, she could not leave it luisaid. " Wo were speaking about your friend and the work sho lias been honored to do. It is a great work, and she is a noble woman, (lod bless her! And, dear, though I dinn.i like tho thought of your leaving your brother's house, it is not because I dinna think that you might put j-our hand to tho same work with the same success. I am sure you could do, in that way, a good work for (lod and man. It is partly that I am shy of new schemes, and partly because I am siu'c tho restlessness i-hat is ui'ging you to it will i)ass away ; but it is chiefly because I think you have good and holy work laid to yoiu* hand already. "Whatever you may think now, dear, they are far better and happier here at home, and will be all their hves, because of you. "I'm no' saving but you might go away for a wee while. The change woidd do you good. You will come with us, or you will follow after, if y(ju like it better ; and then you might take your sister, and go and sec your brother Norman, and yom- weo nephew, as we spoko of the other day. But this is yoiu* home, love, and here lies your work, believe me. And, my bairn, the restless fever of your heart wiU pass away ; not so soon, maybe, as if it had come upon you earlier in life, or as if you were of a lighter natiu'c. But it will i)as3. "Wliist! my darling," for Graeme had risen with a gesture of entreaty or denial. ""W^iist, love. I am not asking about its coming or its causes. I am only bidding you have patience till it pass away." Graeme sat down again without a word. They sat a long time quite silent, and when Graeme spoke, it was to wonder that Arthur and the others were not come home. "They must have gone to the lecture, after all, but that must be over by this time. They will be as hungiy as hawks. I must go and speak to Sarah." H I I iH! ! ^ 432 JANET b LOVE AND SERVICE. And slio went away, Ha^-iiif. sadly aiul a littlo bitterly to herself, that the fiicnd on whose kindness and counsel she had relied, had failed her in her tinic of need. " But I nuist go all the same. I rannot stay to die by slow dogi*c>es, of sloth, or weariness, or discontent, wliichevor it may be. Oh nie ! And I thoiij:,dit the worst was past, and Janet Bays it will never bo qnite past, till I am gi'own old." And Janet- sat v.'itli reverent, half-averted eyes, seeing the son-ow, that in trying to hide, the child of her love had so plainly revealed. Hlie knew that words are powerless to help the soreness of such womids, and yet she chid herself that she had so failed to ec)mf()rt her. She Imew that Graeme had come to her in the vague hope for help and counsel, ar^d that she was saying now to herself th.'it her friend had tailed her. "For, what could I i^ay? I couldna bid her go. "What good would that do, when she carries her care with her? And it is not for the like c)f her to vex her heart out mth bainis, keeping at a school. I ken her better than she kens herself. Oh ! but it is sad tc think that the best comfort I can give her, is to look the other way, and not seem to seo. Well, there is 0)ie she winna seek to hide her trouble from, and lie can comfort her/* CHAl^TKR XXX VI. rnuKo _i_ Snov nly event of iinpoi taiu'o that occar/> 1 1). f t now went away, ^vas the return of !^elly. Slio eanio in n^xm them one iiiornu.ig, as they sat togeth( r in the break* fast rooni, with more HhamefaeednesH than eoiild bo easily ao counted for at the tirnt moment. And then she told them ebo was mamcd. Iler sudden departure liad been the means of bnnging "Mr. Stirling to a knowI( dge of In's own mind on the matter of wedlock, and he had followed her to her sister's, and "married her out of hand." Of eoiu'so, she was properly confp'atiilated by them all, but Rose was inclined to be iudig- naiit. "You promised that I was fo bo l)ridesmaid, and I think it is quite too bad that you should disappoint me," said she. "Yes, I know I promised, but it was with a long prospect of waiting. I thought your own turn might come tirst. Miss Rose. Ho didiia seem in a hurry about it. Rut Lis leisure was over when I was faii'ly away out of reach. So he camo after me to my sister's, and nothing would do, but back I must go with him. He couldna see what thfleroncc a month or two could make in a thing that was to be for a lifetime ; and my sister and the rest up there — they sided with him. And there was reason in it I eoukhia deny ; so wo just went down to the manse one morning, and had it over, and mo ■^vith this very gown on, not my best Ijy two or three. Ho made small count of any proptirations ; so you fjoc, ]\Iiss Rose, I coukhia well help ni}'self ; and I hope it will aU bo for the best." They all hoped that, and, indeed, it was not to bo doubted. But, though cojx-gTatulatmg Mrs. Stuiiug hoiu-tily, Graeme il 434 jankt's lovr and si:kvk/e. W{\n K^vaUy tliHftppointod for tliemsolvoR. She had l)Ocn look- ing fonvard to i\ui tiiiio whon, "MrH. 'I'llman's Iciiiporary Hcr* vioo over, tlioy Hhouldliavo Nolly back iu lior oM yAiica again; but tlio ])CHt luiiKt bo inado of it now, and Nelly's plcasiiro must not bo nuincd })y a suHpicion of her discontcut. Sa b1i(3 entered, uitli alnio.st an much eaguriicss as lloso, into tt discussion of llio plans of the newly married pair. "And is the market garden hecurcdV" asked she. "Or is that to como later? " "It will not bo for a ^^llilo yet. Ho is to ntay where he is for the present. You will have heard that INIr. lluthven and his family arc going homo for a while, and wo are to stay in the lujusc. I am to have the charge. It will be something coming in through my own hands, which wilJ be agi'ecablo to mc," added the prudent and indepcnd(>nt Neliy. The meeting of IVIrs. Snow and ]\Irs. Stirluig was a gi'oat pleasiu'o to them l)oth. They had nnicli to say to ono an* other before the time of ]Mrs. Snow's dej)artin'o came, and sho heard many things about tho young people, their way of life, thoir love to each other, and their for])earance with Fanny and her friends, ^vhich she would never have heard from them. She camo to have a gTcat respect for ]\Irs. Stirling's eenso and judgment, as well as for lier devotion to the inter- ests of tho young people. One of tho few expeditions under- taken by her was to choose a wedding present for tho bride, and Rose had the satisfaction of helping her to decide upon a set of spoons, useful and beautiful at tho same time ; and " good property to have," as Mr. Snow justly remarked, whether they used them or not. The day of departure camo at last. Will., Graeme, and Rose w^ont with them over the river, an(! Fanny would Inivo liked to go, too, but she had an engagement with Mrs. Grove, and was t)bhged to stay at home. Arthur svas to be at tho boat to see them off, if it could bo managed, but that was doubtful, so he bade them good-bye in the morning before be went away. There was a crowd, as usual, on the boat| Tl JAiiETri I.OVK AND HEUVICI3. 435 and Gruomo uiiulo luiHto to get a Boat with Mry. Snow, ixx a quiet coriicr out of the way. "Look, (Jniomo," Raid Ki.sc. •• Tliiro is ^Ir. TrDudfiiti', and tlicrc are the lloxhurys, and over so many inoro pcoijlc And there is Mr. liuthvon. I wonder if tliey are going away t(Mhiy." " I don't know. Don't let uh {j;et uito the crowil," naid Graeme, rather hurriedly. " We Kliall loso Ihe good of tho last mi?uites. Stay hero a moiiKiut, Will., and see wheth- er Arthur comeH. I will laid a seat for IVIrs. Snow. Let us get out of the crowd." It was not easy to do, however, and they were obliged to pass quite close by the party towards which Rose? had been looking, and which Graeme had int(Muled to avoid. " Who is that pretty creature with the child on her la})? " asked Mrs. Snow, with nnich interest. " You bowed to her, I think." *• Yes. That is ]\lrs. Ivuthvon. I sni)pose they are going away today. I sho\ild like to say good-bye to her, but there arc so many people with her, and I am not sure that she know me, though she bowed. Ah ! she has seen Rosio. 'i'liey arc coming over here." She rose and went to meet them as they came near. " You have never seen my bal)y," said Mrs. Ruthven, eagerly. " And I want to see Mrs. Snow." Graeme took the little creature in hor arms. "No, we were unfortunate in finding you out when wo called, more than once — and now you are going away." " Yes, Vv'c are going away for a littUi while. I am so '^lad wo have met to-day. I only heard tho other day that Mrs. Snow had come, and I have n(jt been quite strong, and they wt)uld not let me move about. I am so very glad to see you," added she, as she took Janet's hand. " I have heard your name so often, that I seem to know you well." ]\Ii"s. Snow looked with great interest on tho lovely, delicate face, that sm iled so sweetly up into herp. 43G JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. "I Lave heard about yon, too," said she, gi'avcly. "And I am very glad that we chanced to meet to-day. And you are going home to Scothiiid ?" " Yes, for a little Avhile. I have not been quite well, and the doctor advises the voyage, but v,e f;hall ho home again be fore winter, I hope, or at the latcj-t, in the .spring." There wan not time for many words, Arllnu' came at tho last minute, and with him Charlie j\Iill;ir. Ho held out his arms fo^' tho b^by, but she would not look at him, and clung to Greame, who clasped her softly. " She has disci-imination, you sec," said CharHe. " She knows who is best and wisest." " iShc is very like what Ivosie was at her age," said IMrs. Snow. " Don't you mind, IMiss (iraemc ?'' "Do you lionr that, baliy ! " said Charlie. "Take heart. Tho wee white Lily may be a blooming rose, yet — who knows ? " '' You have changed," said Mrs. Snow, as IMi*. Eutlivon came up to her with Will. "Yes, I have changed ; and not for the better, I fear," said Le, gi'avely. "I do not say that — though the world and it's ways do not often change a man for the better. Keep it out of your heart/' There was only time for a word or two, and Graeme would not lose the last nn'nutes with their friend. So she di*ew her away, and tm*ned her face fi'om thorn all. "Oh, Janet! Must you go? Oh! if we only could go witii you ! But that is not what I meant to say. I am so glad you have been here. If you only knew how much good you have done me ! " "Have I? Well, 1 vm glad if I have. And my dear, you Jiro soon to follow us, you ken ; and it will do you good to get back for a little while to the old place, and tho old ways. God has been vciy good to you all." "Yes, and Janet, you are not to think mo altogether r.n- Janet's love and skrvice. 437 thankful. Forget all tlic tliscontcntocl foolish things I have said. Goil ]uis been very good to lis all." " Yea, love, and you must take liearf, anc^. tnist Hun. And you must watrii over your sister, your sisters, I should say. And Rose, dear, you are never to go against youi* sistor'a judgment in anything. And my Ijairiis, diiuia let the pleas« ant life you are living make you forget another life, (rod bo ^vith you." Mr. Snow and Will, made a screen between Ihcm and the crowd, and Janet kissed and blessed them with a full h(}art. There were only a few confused moments after that, and then the girls stood on the i)latform, smiling and waving their hands to their fiiends, as the train moved off. And then Graeme caught a glimpse of the lovely pale face of Lihas Iluthven, as she smiled, and bowed, and held up her baby in her arms ; and she felt as if that farewell was more for her, than any of the many friends "vvho were watching them as they went away. And then they turned to go home. There was a crowd in the boat still, in the midst of which the rest sat and amused themselves, dui'ing the few minutes sail to the other side. But Graeme stood lookuig away fi'om them all, and fi'oni the city and crowded wharf to which they were drawing near. Her eyes were turned to the far horizon towai'd which the great river flowed, and she was saying to herself, " I ^(?//Z take heart and trust Him, as Janet said. He has been good to us all. I will not be afraid even of the days that look so duU and profitless to me. God will accept the httle I can do, and I iril/ l)c content." WilL and Charlie Millar left them, after they had passed tlu'ough a street or two. " We might just as well have gone to Merle\'ille with them, for all the difference in the time," said Uo.se. " But then our preparations woukl have interfered ■with our enjoyment of Janet's visit, and with her cnjojiuent, too. I*" was a much better way for us to wait" 433 Janet's love ^nd skrvici). " Yes. And for some things it will be better to be tlierd after the wedding, rather tlian before. But I don't at all like going- back to an empty hoii!^;e. I don't like people going away." "I^ut people lunst go away, dear, if they come ; and a quiet tunc will bo good for us both, before we go away," said Graeme. But the quiet was not for that day. On that day, two un- expected events occurred. That is, one of them was unex pected to Graeme, and the ether Avas unexpected to all the rest. Mr. Green proposed that Miss Elliott should accom- pany him on his contemplated European toiu' ; and ]\li's. Tilman's time of ser^^ce cam to a sudden end. As Graeme and Rose turned the corner of the street on theii* way home, they saw the Grove carriage standing at their door. " That does not look much like quiet," said Rose. " ITow- cver, it is not quite such a bugbear as it used to be ; don't you remember, Graeme ? " Rose's fears were justified. They found Fanny in a state of utter consternation, and even INIrs. Grove not quite able to conceal how much she was put about. IMi's. Tihnan luul been taken suddenly ill, again, and even the undisceming Fanny could not fail to miderstand tlie nature of her iUness, when she found her unable to speak, with a black bottle lying on the bed beside her. Mrs. Grove was inchned to make light of the matter, sajdng that the best of peojile might bo overtaken in a fault, on occasion ; but Graeme put her vei-y chaiitable suggestions to silence, by telling the secret of the housekeeper's former illnesses. This was not the first fault of the kind, bv many. Tliere were a good many words spoken on this occasion, more than it would be wise to record. INIrs. Grove professed indignation that the '' mistress of the house" should have been kept in ignorance of the state of affiiirs, and resented the idea Df Fanny's being treated as a child. But Fjinny said nothing ; and then her mother assured her, that in future she would V^ V JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. 439 leave her to the inanagcmeut of her o^^^l household affiiira , and Graeme smi^rised them all, by saying, very decidedly, that in doing this, she would bo quite safe and right. , Of course, after all this, Farny could not think of going out to pass tlie afternoon, and Graeme had httlo quiet that day. There were strangers at dinner, and Arthur was busy with them f(n' some time after ; and when, being at hberty at lasi, he called to Graeme that he wanted to see her for a minute, it must be confessed that she answered with imi^a- tdence. "Oil! Arthiu', I am very tired. Won't it keep till morn- ing? Do let Mrs. Tilman and domestic afFau's wait." "Mrs. Tilman! AVhat can you mean, Graeme? I suppose Mrs. Grove has been favoring the household with some advice, has she ? "Has not Fanny told you aljout it?'' asked Graeme. " No. I saw Fannv was in tribulation of some kind. I shall hear it all in good time. It is something that concerns only you that I •»ish to speak al)out. How would you hko to visit Europe, Graeme ? " "In certahi circumstances I might like it." " Mr. Green wished me to ask the question — or another r i ! " Artlnu', don't say it," said Graeme, sitting down and txu'umg pale. " Tell me that you did not expect this." "I cannot say that I vras altogether taken by aurpiise. He meant to speak to you himself, l^ut his courage failed him. He is very much in earnest, Graeme, and very nuich afraid.' "iVi-thur," said his sister, earnestly, "you do not thiiik this is my fault? If I had known, it should never have conic to this." "He must have an answer now." " Yes, you will know what to say to him. I am sorry." "But, Graeme, you should take time to think. In tho tyee of tho world this would be a good mutcLi for you." Graeme rooe impatiLutly. 28 N 410 JANET S LOVE AND 8EHVICE. "'Wliat lias tlio ^vol•l(l to do with it? Tell me, Aitliur, that you do not tliiiik mo to blamo for this." '* I do not think you intended to give Mr. (Jrcon cucourago mcnt. But I cannot understand wliy you should 1)0 so siu*- prised. I am not." "You have not l)eon sceinj,' v>ith your own eyes, and the cncourap^cmcnt has not been from vv. It ( amiot be helped now. You will know what to say. And, Aiihur, pray Jet this be quite between you and me." "Then, there is nothing inovQ to be said? " "Nothing. CJood night." Arthm* was not sm-prisod. He knew quite well that Mr. Green was not good enrjugh for Graeme. Dut, then, who was? Mr. Green was very rich, and it would have been a splendid settlement for her, and she was not very young now. If she was ever to marry, it was surely time. And why should she not ? Ho had intended to say something hkc this to her, but somehow he had not found it easy to do. "Well, she was old enough and v,ise enough to knew her own mind, and to de- cide for herself ; and, taken without the helj) of his position and his great wealth, Mr. Green was certaiidy not a very in- tt'restmg person ; and probably Graeme had done well to refuse him. He pondered a long tune on this question, and on others ; but when he went iq) stah's, Fanny was waiting for him, v idc awake and eager. " "Well, what diil Graeme say? Has she gone to bed? " Arthur was rather taken aback. Tie was by no meana sure that it would be a ^ise thing to discuss his sister's affairs with his wife. Fanny would never bo able to keep his news to herself. " Y'ou ought to be in bed," said he. " Yes, I know I ought. But is she not a wretcli ? " " Graeme, a wretch ! " "Nonsense, Arthm*! I mean Mrs. Tilmau. You know very well." " Mrs. Tilman ! What has she to do with it ? " ~I JANKTri I.OVK AND SKUVICK. •Ill •3 " " What ! did not Oraoinc tell yon And tlicn tlio •whole stoiy Inirst forth — ull, nnd n ^-ood d(>;il more than luis been told, for Fanny and Tvose haly wroiig all this time. I am afj-aid, dear, I ani ratlicr foolish." " I am siu'c (iraemc does not say so," said Arlhur. "No. Sho does not say so. But I am afraid it is tnio all the same. But, ^Vi-thur, I do mean to try and learn. I tiiink Rose is right when she says there is no one like Graeme." •142 j.\:an s i/>ve and seuvioe. Her liUHband an-roed with her hero, too, and ho thought about tkoso th.nf,'H much more than he Kuid to his wifo. It AYould 1)0 a diflcrcut home to them all without his sister, ho acknowlcHlf^cd, and ho said to liimsclf, that ho ought to bo tlio last to re/:p:ot Graeme's decision with regard to Mr. Green and his European torn*. In the meantime, Graeme, not caring to share her thouglils Mitli lier sister just t'len, hiid stolen down stairs aij^ain, and sat lookii.g, with trouljled eyes, out into the night. Tkat "sras at first, while her conversation with her brother remained in her mintL She was annoyed +h.it Mr. Green had been permitted to speak, but she could not blame heisself for it. Now, as she was looking back, she said she might have seen it coming ; and so she might, if she had been thinking at all of Mr. Green and his hopes. She saw now, that from various causes, with which she had had nothing at all to do, they had mot more frequently, and fallen into more familiur ac(iuaintanccship than she had been aware of while the time was passing, and she could see where he might have taken encouragement where none was meant, and she was grieved that it had been so. But she could not blame herself, and she could not bring herself to pity him very much. " He will not break his heart, if he has one ; and there are others far Ijetter fitted to please him, and to enjoy what ho has to bestow, than I could ever have done ; and, so that Ai'thur nays nothing about it, there is no harm done." So she put the subject from her as something quite jmst and done with. And there was something else quite j^ast and done witii. "I am afraid I have been very foolish and wrong," she s;iitl, letting her thonglits go farther back into the day. She said it over and over again, and it was true. SIk; had been foolish, and perhaps a little wi'ong. Never once, since tliat mis(Table niglit, now more tlian two yt.ars ago, when he ha 1 orjught ILir.ry home, had Graeme tout-hcd the hand or met the eye of Allan J^ithven. She had frcciuently seen Lihas, and she had not consciously avoided him, but it had so liap- 1 JAN'El' S LOVE AND SKIiVICi:. 4i3 penotl thau tboy liad never luet. In tlioHO old times .she li;ul conio to tlio knowlc(l;^o that, mniHkecl, she had ^avon liiiu UK^retlian fnondfship, and hIio liad shnnik, \viili such pain and lihanio, from the thought tliat she nii;^^lit still do so, that hIio had grown morbid over the fiar. To-day slio had seen him. llhe had clashed his hand, and met his look, and listened to iiis I'rierally words, and she kriew it was well with her. They were friends vhom timo, and abHCiie(>, and perhaps sufienny-, had tried, and Lliey would bo friends always. She did not acknowledge, in words, cither her fear or her relief ; but she was glad with a sense of the old. i)leasure in the friendsliip of Allan and Lihas ; and she was saying to hersclC that she had been foolish and wrong to let it slip out of her life so utterly as she had done. She told herself that tnie fi'iendship, like theirs, was too sweet and rare a blessing to be suffered to die out, and that when thev came homo ngain the old glad time would come back. "I am glad that I have seen them again, very glad. And I am glad in their hai)piness. I know tliat I am glad now.' It was very late, and she was tu'ed after the long day, l)ut she lingered still, tiiinking of n.iany things, and of all that tho pas*t had brought, of all that the future might bring. Her thoug'hts were hopeful ones, and as she went slowly up tho staii's to her room, she was repeating Janc.'t's wonis, and making them her own. " I will take heart and trust. If the work I have here in God-given, He will accej^t it, and make me content in it be it gi'eat or little, and I will take h'art and tnwt. t CHAPTER XXXVII. IF, on tho iiif^'lit of tho day whon Jiiuot wont away, Graeme I'onltl liuvo lia"^ n, glr ^sc of her ontward lifo for the next two years, she mi^^li" utvc Ifi-unk, dismayed, from tlie way that lay before her. And \ ■ t when two y(!ars and more had passed, over the cares, and fears, and d: ^)poiniments, over the ehange and separation wliieh the time had bron^'-ht, she could look with calm content, nay, whitli grateful f,dadness. They had not been eventful years — that is, they had been mimarked by any of tho especial tokens of chanj^e, of which the eye of tho world is wont to take note, the sudden and evident coming into their lives of ij^ood or evil l\)rtiiu('. But Oraeine liad only to recall the troubled days tliat had been b(^fore the time wlien she hjid sought help and comfort from her old friend, to reidize that these years had brouglit to her, and to some of those she loved, a change real, deep, and blessed, and she daOy thanked God, for content and a quiet heart. That which outwardly characterized the time to Graeme, that to which she could not have l(Joked forward hopefully or patiently, but upon which she could look back without regi'ct, was her separation fi'om her sister. At lirst all things had hai)pened as had l)eeu planned. They made tlieii* preparations for theii- long talkcnl of visit to Merleville ; they enjoyed tho journey, the welcome, the wedding. AVill. went away, and then they had a few (piiet, restful days with Janet ; and then there came from home sad tiduigs of Taimy's ilhiess — an ill- ness that brought her in a single night veiy near to tho gates of death ; and Graeme did not need her brother's agonized entreaties to make her hasten to her side. Tlio sum- mons camo diu-iug a brief absence of Rose from Merleville, and J -Us ins lovl: and skuvici:. 41.1 was too imperative to adinlt of (Irac'iiic'H waiting' for lior ro turn, so hIic was left ])eliiiul. Afterwards, when Fanny'H ilaiig( r was over, sho was ijennittcd to remain lou;^er, and when sudden l>nsinesH brou^'ht tlieir bi-Dther Norman cast, his determination to take her home with liim, and her inehnation to go, prevailed over Clraeme's iinwillin^^niesH to eonscnt, and the Bisters, for the Ih'st time in their lives, had siparato homes. Tlic hope of Ijehig able to follow her in the sprinj^, had at first rcconeiled (iraeme to the thoui^ht, l)ut when si)ring came, Fanny was not well enough to be left, nor would Konnan eonscnt to the rctmii t>f Koso ; and so for ouq reason or other, more than two years passe(l before the sisters m(;t again. They were not unhappy years to (Iraemc. Mtuiy anxious hours came in the course of them, to ■ .-v id to them all ; but out of the cares and troubles of tl • tu; ?anio peace, and more than peace at last. The winter that followed her retiu'n from lVl(^r.' il!e, was ra'hcr a dreary one. The restraints and self denials, which the delicate state of her health necessjirily impc ju upon her, were V(ry irksome to Fanny; and Clraeme's courage and cheer- ful ucss, sometimes during these Ih'st months, were hardly suflicient to answer tlie demands mantly so full of rest niid peace, but reall}'" so anxious and troubled, helped him to a truer estimate of the Value of that which the world can bestow, and forced him to compare them with those things over which the world has no power. Famiy's eager, sometimes anxious questionings, helped to the same end. The confidence with which she brorght her doubts and difiiculties to him for solution, her evident belief in his superior wisdom and goodness, her per- JAN LI b I.OVIO AND ^LKVICK. 447 f('ot tniftt in liis power and eldll to jjiit her rifj^bt about iimitors of wbicli until now sbo bad never tbouj^bt, wore aro- proacb to bini often. Listening' to ber, and pondcrin;^' on i\ui questioHH wliicb ber words su^jfji^estcd, be saw bow far be liad wandered from tbo i)atbH wbicb liis fatlier bad trod, liow far iie bad fallen sliort of tlie Ktandard at wbicb bo bad aimed, and tbo true ol)ject of lifo ^n'ow elcarer to bini during' tliose days. Tbcy belped eacb otber to tbo lindin^' of tbo better way ; sbo belped liini most, and (Jraeme bel[)(>d lluni botb. 'I'Iu^ho were anxiouH days to ber, but bappy«biys, ab well. In eai'inj^ for tbesc two, so dear to ber, in seeking' for tbeni tbo bilessin|^' l)ebifid, slu; for- fjfot berself and ber own fears and cares, and in seekiuf,' tbeir liappiness found ber own. Tbis quiet time came tt) an end. Tbo little lifo so lonj^ed for, so precious, lingered witb tbem but a day, and passoil away. Fanny bovered for a time on tbo brinlc of tlu^ f,aavo, but was roston.'d ajj^ain, to a new liiV', i)ett''r loved and moro "wortby of love tlian ever sbe bad been before. Tbat sunuuer tbey went soutb, to tbo sea-side, and after- wards before tbey retiu'ned bome, to IMerleville, wbero iVi'tbur joined tbem. It was a time of nuieb pleasiu'o and protit to tbem all. It did Arlbur jj^ood to stand witb bis sister beside tbe two graves. Tbey spoke tben; more fully and fi'cely tban tbey bad e\er spoken to eacb otber bef(jre, of tbo old times, of tbeir fatber and motlier, and of tbe work tbey bad bcnn bonorcd to do in tbe world ; and out of tbe memories thus awakened, came eanu st tbouj^bts nnd lii^^di resolves to botb. Viewed in the ligbt wbicb sbono from bis father's lifo and work, bis own could not but seem to Arthur mean and worth- less. Truths seen dimly, and accepted witii reserve, amid tbo bustle of business, and the inlluence of tbe world, ))r(r sented tbemselves clearly and fully here, and bowed botb bis heart and bis reason, and though bo said little to liis sister, bIio knew that life, with its responsibilities and duties, would henceforth have a deeper and hoher rneainng to liim. 448 JANhTd LOVi: AMD BLIIVICE. Janet ncvor fipoko to Oraoino of liorolil troiiblod thoiij^litM. *' It iH nil coming' rij^lit with my l)aini," slio .saiil, softly, to JiciKclf, th(! very iirst j.jliiii|)su slio {^ot of her fuc, ami Kcciii;.,' her juul watchiii;^- her (hiring' those ft.\vha})|»y dayn, kIic knew tliat she had j^aown eonlenl with lur life, and its work, and that the fover of her heart was heaUjd. And ns the dayn went ^n^, and she saw Ai'thur more and more like lii.s father, in the new earnestness of his thou;^lits and hopes, and watch- ed Fanny gentle, and lovhi',', mindful of others, eliii^nn;,' to (Iracnie, and trnstiii;,'and honorin;^^ her entirely, — a Faiuiy an dilVcrent as eoiild well be ima;,aned from tlie vain, exacting little honse-ke(;j)Lr, who had ho often excited her indi;^niali<)n, a year a^^), she repeated again m;d a;^'ain. *'It is coming ri^ht witli tliem all." Another year ])assed, luinLjinf^ now cares, and now i)lea- B\n*es, and, to Arthur and Fanny, tlie fnllUlm'nt of ncwhoj)cs in tho birth of a son. To (iraenic, it brou;^'ht many longings for the sight of hor sister's face, many half formed ]>lans for going to her, or for bringing her home, but Arthnr's boy was three months old l)efore she saw her sister. AVill. was still in Scotland, to stay for auothor year, at least. Harry had jjocn at home several times since his llrstsoiTowful departure, and now there was a prosi>ect that ho would be at home always. A great change had taken place in his affaii's. The firm of Eli)hinstone and CV)mpany no kmger existed. It was suc- ceeded by one, which bade fail* to be as prosperous, and in time, as highly honored as it had been, the firm of Elliott, ]\Iillar and Company. ]\[r. Iluthven was still in the busi- ness, that is, he had left in it the capital necessary to its es- tablishment on a Ih'm l)asis, bnt he took no i)art in the man- agement of its affairs. He lived in Scotland now, and had done so ever since the death of his wife, which had taken place, soon after tliey had reached that country. Ho had since succeeded, on the death of Ids unck^, his father's brother, to the inheritance of a small estate near his native place, and there, with liis mother and his little daughter, ho resided. Either, it was said, his imclo had made his residence ou the JA*\i:T'b LO\K JiHU bEUVICK. 440 ad en acl plai'o a condition of posHossiou, or ho had gl•o^vn tired of a lifo of biisincHH, hut ho cvideutly, did not inloiid t(» ri'turn to Caiuuhi at i>resent ; even his half brother, who deeply re- gi'etted hi.s early witiidrawal from active life, and earnestly renionMlrated with him coueernhi^' it, knew littlo ai)Out Inn motives, exctpt that his health was not s) firm as it nsed to be, and that he had determhied not to en{,'ago in buyincs.s agaui. llarrv had ehniigod much, during tho years of his abseneo. Up to the titne of his leaving home, he had n^tained his boyish fiankness and lovo of fun, more than is nsmil in ono really devoted to business, and suecessful in it. AVhen he eamo back, ho seemed older than thoso years ought to havecuado him. He was no longer tho merry, impulsive^ lad, ready on tho shortest notice, to tidco part in anything tliat })ron»\sc 1 amusement for the moment, whatever the next might bring. Ho was qniet and observant now; hardly doing his part in genond conversation, holding his own views and opinions witli siilHciont tenacity when they were assailed, l)ut ratlier indiilerent as to what miglit bo tho views tmd opinions of others ; as unliko as possible to the Harry who had been so ready on all occasions, either in earnest or in sport, to throw hunself into tho discnssion of all manner of (piestions, with all kind of people. Even in their own circle, ho Uked bet- ter to listen than to speak, but he fell quite naturally and happily into his place at home, though it was not just tho old place. Graeme thought him wonderfully improved, and made no secret of her pride and delight in him. ^Vi'thm* thought him improved too, but he shocked his sister tlreailfuUy, by ])rofe.s- bing to se« 'n him indications of character, that suggested a futiu'o resem))lauce to their respected friend, ^h\ Ehas Green, in moro than mi success. " Ho is rather too devoted to business, too indifferent to the clahns of society, and to the pursuits of tho young (;\vells of tho day, to be natural, I am afraid. But it will pay. In tho coui'se of fifteen w twenty years, we shall have him luildin ■^ 450 JANKTS LOVi;; AND SEKVICI':. a 'palatial reRulenco,' ami Ixn'iiig himself and other people, like our rcspociod friend. You seem to be a little discontent- ed with the prosjicct, Ciraenie." "Discontented!" echoed Graeme. "It is with you, that I am discontented. IIow can you speak of anythhig so hom« blc ? You don't know Harry." " I know what the result of such entire devotion to busi- ness must be, jcnned to sucli talents as Harry's. Success, of course, and a measure of satisfaction with it, more or less, as the case may be. No, you need not look at Hurry's friend and partner. He is ' tarrcl with the same stick,' as Mrs. Snow would sav." HaiTy's fi-i(iid and ])artner, laughed. "Mrs. Snow would never say that about iVFr. Millar," said Graeme, ind'gnantly, "nor alxnit Harry either ; and nei« tJier of them will come to a fate like that." "They may fail, or they may marry. I was only speaking of llie natural conse([uences of the present state of alTairs, bhould nothing interviiie to prevent sudi a eonclusion." "Harry will never gr/ow to be hke Mr. Green," said Fanny, ^p'avi'ly. " Graeme will not let him."' "There is something in that," said Artliui-. " There is a great deal in that," said Mr. Millar. "There are a great nmny to kee[) Harry from a fate like that, Ix'sides me," said (rraeme, "even if then; was any danger, to one of his loving and generous nature." She was more in earnest than the occasion se"». laughing. " Oh ! tliat is quite another ninttor ; but as to Harry, it is JANF/r S l-0\i: AND fiEUVICE. 451 a good tliinpf lliat Ronio is cominpf homo, to divert tlio attention of you two from liim a while," added he, a.s his brother camo into the room. " And yon will do your best to spoil her, too, if some of the rest of us don't connti-ract your iulluenco.*' "What is it all al)out?" said Harry. '"Arc you spoilin^^' yoiu* son, Faiuiy ? Is that the matter uiidei- discussion?" "No. It is you (liat wc arc s[)()iliiiL,', (Jraeme and I. Wo admire you quite too miieh, /ulhur says, and he is afraid wo shall do the same for liose." "As for Rose, I am afraid the spoilin;' process nnisi have commenced ah'eady, if admiration will do it," said Hairy, " If one is to boHuve what Norman savs, she has been tiu*n- ing a good many heads out there." " So that her own head is safe, tlie rest (Winiiot be helped," said Graeme, witii a little vexation. It was not IfaiTvs words, so much as his tone, tliat she disliked. He Hhru;^';/ed hLs slioulders. "Oh! as to that, I aiii not sure. I don't think she tned to help it. Why should she? It is her natural and i)roper s^there of labor — lu-r vocation. I think she enjoyed it, rather." " Harry, don't ! I can't bear to hoar you spi-ak of Rose in that wav." "Oh! my speaking of it ciui'i make any (hffereneo, you know ; and if you don't behevo mo, you can ask Charlie. He is my authoiily for the; list bit of news of Rosie." Charlie looked U[) astonished and indignant, and reddened as he met (Iraeme's eye. "I don't undrrstand you, Han-y — the least in the world," said he. " J)o you mean io say you have forgottm the postscript ) law in Rowland's leld r ahout Mr. (Ji'iii an 1 liis lio[)es and intenlioiiH? Come, now, Charlie, tliat is a lil(l<' too nnieli." " i\L\ (ireen ! " repeatetl Arthur and I'anny, in a bre.itli. "Ai'e we never to liave done with that unhappy man?" Baid (Jraeme, indignantly. " The idea of Rose ever looking at hini ! " said Fanny, i 452 jANKTb LOVK AND flEUVICK. "Oil! slio luij^'ht look ;it liiiii witliout doini^ herself any harm," Raid Ilany. " She miglit even indulge in a little in- nocent flirtation " " Harry," said Fanny, solemnly, " if there is a word in the EnglLsli largungc that Cxraemc hates it is that. Don't say it again, I Ix-g." Harry shniggcd his Bhouldcrs. Graeme looked vexed and anxious. " Miss Elliott," said Charhe, nsing, in sonio embaiTass- ment, "I liope you don't tlunk nie capable of discussing — or permitting , I mean, hi the letter to which HaiTy refers, vour sistcT's name was not mentioned. You have received a wrong impressi(ju. I am the last person in the world that woidd be likely to ofl'cnd ui that way." '* Cluirlie, man ! you arc making much ado about nothing ; luid, Graeme, you uic as bad. Of course, Rosic's name was not mentioned ; but I know quite well, and so do you, who * La belle Canadienue ' was. But no harm was meant, and none was done." "It would be rather a good joke if Rosio were to nilo in the * Palatial Residence ' after all, would n't it ? " said .(U'thur^ huigliing. '• iVrthiu-, don't ! I(, is not nice to have the child's namo cx)upled with — with any one," said Graeme. " It may not be nice, but it cannot be helped," said Harry. "It is the p(Mialty that very pretty girls, like Rose, have to pay for the ir bcaiiiy — especially when they are aware of it — iiii Rose has good right to Ije by this time. Small blame to her." "And I don't see thai there is r(\illv anvthing to be an- noyed about, Graeme," jiaid Arthur. "Af.!;Teat deal more than the coupling of nam(>s might happen without l^l«io being to blame, as no ono should know bi'tt(T (hr,n you." " Of couDic. We art! not s[)eakirig of blame, and we will gay no more aboiit it," said Graeme, rising; and nothing more was said. JJy and by Hairy and his fri<'ad and partner roso to go. Tho Iwo or tlirro wohIk io \:o h:\'u\ on i1i!it Hii]>i('('t," siiid Arlliur, liiuj;)nn;^'. " I luw Huro ncidicr vou nor Fiinny will vcniuro to objoci ; you li;iv(' imd (Inicinc nil youilifc — jit Ic-ist fur IIk- ^ist scvi-u yojikX I hIiouM tiko lo lic.ir you, just. I am uoi ji)kiii<^', (JrjuMiu'." OrjKMM-^ lllU^Jflll d. *' TluTo is !io luury Jil)ou( if, is thoro ? T luvvc^ lioanl of poo)»l«' cliiiii^^Iu;^ Uicir minds ; iiiul I won't set my Ik aii on it i:; c.i.'- • T sliould ] v disainiointod." ciiA I'j i: 1^ axxv 1 1 1 s () lioKo C!iiii.« lioiiK! lit, last. Not just thr Homci wlio li'ul IJ7 1( It tln'in, now iiioiT t>liiin two yniiM a^^'o, (fvni ni tlm <rol>al)ly liave (rhan,L;ed i|uit«^'-r(( , not making- it (|uite <-leai' whether he tlioU'.lher thiu >j aLrreeal>l( il>I( *' Of course," said Harry, with a shruj^ th. set(iraeu , farcy at rest about Miss C.'ora Snide r. In K'ss tim(! than (iraeme at lirst suppoh il possible, they fell back into their old ways a^^'ain. Host's di^'nity and seli'- relianco were for her brothers and her friends ^'enerally. With (iraenie slu! was, in a day or two, just what she hivl bobi). before bIio went away — a dear cliiltl and sister, to l)c »>(i ^WHM 450 .lANKTti LOVK AND SERVICK. 'ki*i diecliod aiid cbidcd, now and thou ; to bo caressed and cored for jUway.s ; growiuf*", day by day, dearer and faiiei to her sistcru lovinjif eyes. She was <^hu\ to bo at liomo a;j;ain. She waH very fond of Norman and Hilda and their boys, and she had been vory lia])j)y wilh tliem ; but there was no one hko CIraemc, and there was no place hke home. So bIic fed mto her old i)la('e and ways, and was so exactly the Rosie of old tiines, that (Iraemo smiled in secret over tlio idea of lier child liavin^' l)e(>n in danj^er of beinj^ s])<)iled l)y admu'ation or by a love of it. It was (juite impossible U) beheve that a love of pleasure voiild let her be so content with their (pilet life, their household occupations, their unvaried round of social duties and," s:ii(1 Hos-\ one day, when the sisters were sitting U> gether. " W hy, if 1 had come home a strong-minded woman and the president of a convention, it won '. have been nothing t«) the change IhaL has t;d;en place in Fanny, \vhich I dare- say lu> (h)es not Hvv at all, as a change ; he always was rather blind wh(>re she was concerned, lint what have y«'.u l.'eing doiiigto Fanny, (iraeme V" " Hose, my dear," said (Jraeme, gravely, *' Fanny has had a ,\Teat deal of sickness and sul'h ring, and h;r change Is for the better, I am sure ; and, besides, an' you not speaking a little foolishly?" '* Well, perl aps so, but not unkindly, as far as Fanny in cx)ncerned. For the better! 1 should think so. Ihit then I fancied that ]:'anny was just the one to grow iMjevish in sick- )H>ss, and ill to do with, as Janet wtMiM say ; and 1 conl'ess, ^vhen I heard of the aiTival of voiui;/ Arthur, I was afraid^ remembering ol«i times, and her httle alis. that she might not be eiwier U) live with." "Now, Kosie, that is not (jiiite kind- ' .TAiJLT8 LUVE AND SiiltVKJK. 157 bid Itle iii In I SH, lot " But it in (iuito true. That is ju. -^ wtat I thought first, and what I said to ^'or^lall. I know you said how nice aho was, and how sweot, anil all that, but I thoujjfht that was just your way of sowing tliin/jjs ; you nuvor wouKl scu Faiuiy's faults^ you know, even at th(3 vi-ry first." Graeme sliook her hejul. " I think yon umst have forgottyn a])0ut th(^ very first. "NVc were both foolish and faithless, then. It has all como right ; Arthiu' is very happy in his wift>, tlumgh I never thought it could binti('S as to st»)utiiosK — and dtlicr tliiu;.,'H." " It is not ihv Htoutnoss that (lisplcascs her, l''anny," 8ai says that on purpose to l)o contracUctcd. A middlc-aj^cd look, is it? J dart> say it is!" ** A look of contentment uitli tliin;^s as tlicy arc," said (iracnic. "There iHah)ok of expectation <»ii niost V'>JO»f/ faces, you know, a liojufal look, wliich too olteii chan,'jf(>s to an an:' us look, or look of disnjtpointnjcnt, as youth ]>asses away. I nie:in, of cours;>. witli sin^^de women. I suppose it is tliat with u\o ; or, do I look as if I wcvo Hcttliufj down con- tent with thini^s as they are ':'" " dracmo,'' s:iid her sister, "if soiue i)Oo[)l(> wero to Ki)eak like tliat in my hearing, 1 should say it sounded a little liko all'ectation.'^ " I hope it is iu»i imiUUmu's-:, alon(», which jirevciits you from H'.ivin*' it to me T' " Ihit it is idl noiiS('ns(>, (Jraeme ilfir," said Fanny. "How old aro you, ( I r.icme '.•''' sail Uo ,i>. " .Mi(Kll('-a;^cd, indood!" " llosie, (li (»s not ten years seem a Ion;,' tim(> to l think yoursolf niiddlo-aged t(Mi vears hence?" "Certainly not ; by no means ; I luave no such intention, unless, indectl — . ihit wo won't speak about su''li uiipleaHant thini^^s. l-'anny shan't I take thebaliy wlii!" you do that?'' "If you would like to take him," ^-aid Fanny, with somo hesitation. Jiaby was a subjci-t. on whicii Ho-e an^l Faiuiy had uni quite conu! to a mutual understandi!ires.scd witli tho wonderful attractions of her son as Fanny thought she ciii^dit to be. Kvon (Jraeme had been siu'prised at her indifference to the charms of her nej^iow, and *j.\i)()stu- \ated with her on the subject. But Kose had had a sui'feit of .)AN1:TH LnVi: and BlCliVlOl*. 45D for- (i(H\, liHaiib r iKonio not In iiu- liinny lostu- lit of l);il)y KWoetnosM, jmd, uftor Hildii'H Ktroii;;, In^autiful l)()yH, Funny'H little, drlifiito tlii'eo luontlm' 1)iil)V wuh ii tli.sai>- l)()intiii('iit to lirr, iiiul kIu' iiiiido no Kocrt't of her HmuHciucnt ut tlio drvotioii of (Jnu'inc, and tlu^ r!i|)tnn'H of his mother over liini. Hnl now, ii.s hIic took liiiu in licr iirniM, sUr ustou- islird tlicni with such clixH'nco of l)ul)V-t;dk in liiil)V liad never heard before. I'iinny whm d( li;;hted. Il;ij»|tily (Inienu! pro* vented llie cjUeHtion tliat treinhled on lier lips m to the eoni- panilive nieritM of hrr ni ;»he\VH, l)y sayin;^', "Well done, lioHie! If only llariv eould hear vou !" " I haV(M)f(('n wished that Hilda eonld Ke(> aiitl hear you both over this litth; mortal. Yon should see Hilda. I )o(!H not hiho preserve her etjuaniiiiily ? I'aney her walkiiiK' tho room for lionrs \sith any of lirr hov-t, as vou di t uo, aiH IS I her dau;4hter is four months. Snjipose she had be;UM by walk- \i^ all ni;.^ht with each of tlum, and by hnmorin;.,' ever)' u wnun And then lioso bemm lier talk with the baby a'ain, ^;a\ill'J fill sorts of thin;;s about the fond foohshm ss of his liftlo mamma and his Annt (iraeme, that ;.t wtMild not have br( ii at all pretty, sh(!aekn<»\vli du'ed, to say to themselves. (ira(;mo listiiued, smiling', but i'Vnny look(.'(I /uixi(Uis. " Uose," said she, tell me about Hihla's way. T want ii have the very best way with bal)y. 1 know I am n(jt vei-y wi.so but I do winh to loaru P.ud to do ri-rhtl" II Ii 4C0 JANKT 8 I.OVE AND 8ERVI0E. ITcr wordH and her iniinnor rominded Roho ho forci])ly, by coiktrast, of tho J'liiiny whoso vanity and Kolf-aHKortion had been such a vexation so often, that, in tliinking of thoRO old timoH, hIk! for^'ot to answer her, and Hat playing with tho child'n claHpin;^' lin^'erH. '•She tliinKs I will nover bo like Hilda,*' said Fanny, dolo- fiiMy, to (i wienie. Rose Hhook her head. \ "There are not many hko Hilda ; but I don't see any reason why you KhouMnotboaa ^(kkI a mother as she is, and have as obechent ehildnjn. You hav(i an j^'ood a teacher. No, don't look at (iraeme. I know what you mean. She has taught you all tJie ^'ood that in in you. There are more of us who coulil H!iy the same — except for iiiakinjif her vain. It is thiM y(juii^' /th laughiji;^' heaiiily at her nouHense. *' I'll tell you what, Fanny," Raid hIio, looking up in a little. " It is the mother-love tliat mak(>s one wine, and Solomon has Homethiiig to do with it. You must take him intx) your ('on. JJut, dear me! Think of mv veiitur- iiig lo f^'ive you good advice. I miglit be Janet herself." "But, Uo.sie, dear," Haid (Iraeme, still laugliing, ''Solomon has nothing to say about such infants as this one." "Has hv. not? "Well, that is IlildaV mistake, then. Slio is responsible f(U' iiy oj)iiiions. I know nothing. Tho wis- dom I am dispensing so freely is entirely hers. You munt go and SCO Hilda and her babies, and you will understand all abo^it it." " I mean to go and hco her, not entirely for the sake of her wisdom, however, though it must \)o woiuh'rfiil to have im- pressed you so deeply." " Yes, it w woiKh'rful. But you will be in no hurrj' about going, Avill you? Two or three years henco will be time enough, I should thiidc. I mean to content myself here for that time, and you are not going there, or any^vherc, without JANETS LOVE AND SEftVICK. 401 mo. Tliat Ih quito dcoiileil, wlmtevcr an'angonionts Nonnaii umy have iiiado." "I don't think he will ol)j('('t to your ^Jfojii.^ with iiic, if Arthur clocHu't, and J'uuny," said (Jraciui', Kunlin;^'. " PoHHibly ii(H. But I am not {^oiiii? yot. And no plan that is meant to separate you and mo shidl prosper," said l^)sc, with more heat than the oceaKion Heemed to call for, as though the subject had been previously diseuHsed in a manner not to her likinjjf. Clraemo looked grave luid waa Hilent u moment, then kIkj said, "I remember sayin*^ almost these very words befon* wo wont to Merlevillo, to Kmilv's weddin<'. ]Jut vou know how differently it turned out for you and uw, We will keep to- gether while wo can, dear, but wo must not set our hearts upon it, or u|)on any other earthly good, as though wo know best what is for our own hapi)iness." "Well, I suppose tliat is tlu» right way to look at it. But I am to be your fhst eonsideration this winter, you nuist remombcr, and you are to bo mine," " Graeme," said Fanny, earnestly, " I don't think Koso iu sj^oiled in the least." Fanny made malapropos spcHjehes sometimes still, but they were never uidcindly meant now, and she lo(jked with very loving eyes from ono sister to the other. "I hope you did not tlunk Hilda was going to Hi)oil mo. Did yon?" said Hose, laughing. ''No, not Hilda; anout mo, I'anny, dear." " But, Hose, you are not to think that Harry said anything that was not nice. It was one night wiieii Mr. Millar waa here, and there was something said about Mr. Green. Ant] I J \ i > Ai V^, ^> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) / O 4is 1.0 I.I 1.25 IIIM 20 1.8 1-4 IIIIII.6 I ^^ <^ /}. A 'c^l ^d/ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 145S0 (716) 872-4503 f/j 4C2 Janet's love and skryick. lie tliouglit — one of them thought that you — that ho 1 have forgotten what was said. H' hat was it, Graeme ? You were here as well as I." " I am very sui-c there was nothing said that was not nice," Biiid Graeme. " I don't quite remember about it. There was not] ling worth remembering or repeating." " I daresay Harry told you I was a flirt. Ho told me so, myself, once," said Rose, tossing her head in a, way Graeme did not liJiC to see *' Hush, dv.>ar. Me 8nid nothing unkxiid, you may be siu'e." " And, now T remember, it was not Harry but Mr. Millar who spoke about ]\Ir. Green," said Fanny, " and aljout the ' palatial residence,' and liow Hose, if she hked, might " Eose moved about impatiently. " I must say I cannot admh-e the taste that would permit the discussion ( ^ any thing of that sort with a stranger," said she, angrily. " My dear, you are spealdng foohshly. There was no such discussion. And if you say anything more on the subject, 1 shall think that HaiTy was right when he said you were fond of admiration, and that your conscience is troubling you aljout something. Here comes niu"se for baby. I suppose it is time for his bath, is it mamma? " Fanny left the room with the child, and, after a few min- utes' silence. Rose said, -mth. an effort, "Now, Graeme, please tell me what all tliis is about." " Dear, there is nothing to tell. I fancy Harry used to think that I was too anxious and eager about your coming homo, and wanted to remind mo that you were no longer a child, but a woman, who was admu'ed, and who n)ight, by and by, learn to care lor some one else, more than for 3'our sister and brothers. But he did not seriously say anything that you need care about. It would have been as well, perhaps, not to have said anything in IVIi'. Millars presence, since we seem to have fallen a little out of acquaintance with him lato« ly. r>ut HaiTy has not, and he did not consider, and, indeed, there was nothing said that he might not very well hear." mmtmUimmmm jankt's love and sinvicR. " It seems it was he who had most to say." " No. You arc mistaken. Famiy (lid not remember cor- rectly. It was cither .\i'thm' or Harry who had somcthin<^ to .f say about Mr. Green. I don't thuik Charlie had any tiling ta say about it. I am sm-e he would be the last one willingly t6 displease me or you. And, really, I don't soe why you should be angry about it, dear llosie." "lam not angiy. Why should I be angiy?" But she reddened as she met Graeme's eye. (Traeme looked at her ui some sui'prise. " Hari-y is — is unbearaljle sometimes," said Hose. " Fancy his taking me to task about — about his fiiend Oh ! there is no use talldng about it. Graeme, arc you going out?" " Yes, if you like. But, Bose, I tliink you are hard upon Harry. There must be some mismiderstanding. Why! ho is as fond and as proud of ^-ou as possible. You must not bo vain when I say so." '* That does not prevent his being very uni'casonable, all the same. However, he seems to have got over it, or forgot- ten it. Don't let us speak any more about it, (jiaeme, or think about it either." But Graeme did tliink about it, and at first had thoughts of questioning Harry with regard to Hose's cause of ({uaiTol with liim, but she thought better of it and did not. Nor did she ever speak about it again to Bose ; but it came into her mind often when she saw the two together, nnd once, when she heard Hany say something to Bose about her distanco and dignity, and how uncalled for all that sort of thing was, she would have hkcd to know to what he was refeiTuig to, but she did not ask, for, notwithstanding httle (hsagreo- mtnts of tliis kind, they were evidently excellent friends. How exactly like the old time before Arthiu-'s mamage, and before Will, or HaiT\' went away, some of the days were, that followed the coming home of Bose. They seemed lilco the days even longer ago, Graeme felt, with a sense of rest and peace at her heaii unspeakable. For the old content, nay, something better and more abiding had come back to w J mmt^mmtutmtm 464 JANET S LOVE AND SEEVICE. her. The peace that comes after a time of trouble, the con- tent that grows out of soitow sanctified, are best. Eemem- bering what has gone before, we know how to estimate tlie depth, and strength, and sweetness — the sharpness of past pain being a measure for the jircsent joy. And, besides, the content that comes to us from God, out of disappointment and sorrow, is ours bej^ond loss, because it is God-given, and we need fear no evil. So these wer«i ti-uly peaceful days to Graeme, untroubled by regrets for the past, or l)y anxious fears for the future. They were busy days, too. filled with the occupations that naturally spning out of hapi:)y home life, and agreeable social relations. Rose had been honored, bc^^ond her deserts, she said, by visits since she came homo. These had to be re- turned, and Graeme, who had fallen off from the j^erformaiico of such duties, diu-ing Eose's absence, and Fanny's illness, took pleasure in going with her. She took real pleasure in many of these visits, sometimes because of the renewal of fiiendly interest, sometimes for other reasons. The new way in which the character and manner of Rose came out never failed to amuse her. At home, and esioccially in her inter- course with her. Rose was just what she had been as a cliild, except the difierence that a few added years must make. But it was by no means so in her mtercoiu-se with the rest of the world. She had ideas and opinions of her own, and she had her own way of making them knowii, or of defending them when attacked. There was not much opportunity for seeing this during brief formal visits, but now and then Graeme got a glimpse that greatly amused her. The quiet self-possession with wliich she met condescending advances, and accepted or declined compliments, the serene air with which she ignored or rebuked the little pohte impertinences, not yet out of fashion in fine dra\^'ing■rooms, it was some- thing to see. And her perfect imconsciousness of her sister's amusement or its cause was best of all to Graeme. Arthur ami^sed himself with this change in her, also, and had a bet- ter opportimity to do so. For Graeme seldom went to largo i JANET 6 LOVE AND 8EKVICK, 4G5 pai-ties, aud it was under tlic cliapcronago of Mis. Artliui* that Rose, as a general thing, made her appearance in their large and agreeable circle, on occasions of more than uamii ceremony. Not that there wore very many of these. Fanny was perfectly well now, and enjoyed these gay gatherings in moderation, but they were not so necessary to her happiness as they used to be, and Rose, though she made no secret of the pleasure she took in them, was not unreasonable in her devotion to society. So the winter was rather quiet than othein\'iso, and Graeme and Rose found themselves witli a good deal of leisure time at their disposal. For true to her first idea of what was for the happiness of her brother's hoiisoliold, Graeme, as Fanny gi*ew stronger, gradually withdrew from the bearing of responsibility where household matters were cfmcerncd, and sudered it to fall, as f^he felt it to be right, on Arthur's wife. Not that she refused to be helpful, either in word or in deed, but it was as much as possible at the bidding of the mistress of ilie house. It was not always veiy easy to do, often not l^y any means so easy as it would have been to go on in the old way, but she was very much in earnest about this thing. It was right that it should be so, for many reasons. The responsibihties, as well as the honor, duo to the mistress of the house, were Faiuiy's. These could not, she being in health and able to bear them, be assumed by her sister without mutual injury. The honor and responsibility could not be separated without danger and loss. All this Ciraemo tried to make Fanny see without using many words, and she had a more docile pupil than she would have had during the first year of her married life. For Fanny had now entii-e confidence in the wisdom and love of her sister, and did her best to i)rofit by her teaching. It was the same where the child was concerned. "\Miile she watched over both mth loving care, she hesitated to in- tedeve or to give advice, even in small matters, lest she should lessen in the least degree the young mother's sense of respon- sibility, knowing this to be the best and surest guide to the 460 JANET '8 LOVK AND SEKVICK. uibo and fiiilhfnl ptrforiiianco of a iiiotlior's duties. And every day slio \vu {^rowin^' Lap[)ier in the assurance that all was conihij^ right ^Yitll her sister, that she ^vas learnin*^- the best of a]l wisdom, the wisdom of gentleness and self-forg(it- fulness, and of devotit^n to the welfare of others, and that all this was hearing fniit in the gr(\'itor happuiess of the house- hold. And besides this, or rather as a result of this, she bade fair to be a notable little housemother also ; a little over-anxious, perhaps, and not very patient with her own fail- lU'es, or with the failures of otliers, but still in earnest to attain success, and to be in all things what in the old tunes she had only cared to seem. Thouy^h Harrv did not now form one of the household, he was with them very often. ]\Ir. Millar did not quite fall into the place which Harry's friend Charlie had occupied, but though he said less about his enjoyment of the friendship of their circle, it was evident tliat it was not because he enjoyed it less than in the old tiniv^s. He had only changed since then by gi'owing quieter and graver, as they all had done. His brother's determination not to return to Canada had been a great disappointment to him at the time, and he still re- gi-etted it veiy much, but he said little about it, less than was quite natural, perhaps, considering that they had once been such fiiends. Ch*cumstances had made the brothers strangers during the boyhood of the younger, and it was hard that cu'- cumstances should separate them again, just as they had been bcmnninf: to know and to value each other. Charlie had hoped for a long time that Allan might come back after a year or two ; for liis estate was by no means a large one, and he behevcd that he would soon weary of a life of inactivity, and return to busmess again. He \>'as still young, and might, with his knowledge and experience, do anything he liked in the wa}^ of making money, Charlie thought, and he could not be satisfied with his decision. But Will., who had visited Al- lan lately, assm'ed Charhe that his brother was settling down to tlie enjoyment of a quiet country life, and that though ho ■: K JANKTB LOVE AND SERVICE. 407 mi'^lit visit Canada, thcro was little chance of his ever making that country his honjo aj^ain. "I Khoiild think not, hulcod," Kaid Arthur, one ni^dit, aa thoy were discuHsini^' the niattor in connection with Will's last letter. " You don't display yoiu' usual f^ood jud^nent, Charlie, ni{ui, where your brother is concerned. AVhy sliould he retiu'u? He is (^njojin^ now, a comparatively younj^ man, all that you and Harry expect to enjoy after some twenty or thu'ty years of hard labor — a competency in society c(m^^enial to him. Why should ho wait for this longer than he need T' " Twenty or thirty years !" said Harry. " Not if I know if. You are tliinking of old times. ]5iit I must say T agree with Charlie. It is strange that INIr. Kuthven should be content to sit down in comparative idleness, for, of course, the idea of fanning his own land is absurd. And to tell you the truth, I never thought him one to be satisfied with a mere compe- tency. I tliought him at one time am1)itious t(j beconio a rich man — a gTcat merchant." " It would not be safe or wise to disparage tlie life and aims of a great merchant in your presence, Hiirry,"said Hose, "but, Oiic would think tlie life of a country gentlemtm preferable hi some respects." "I don't think Allan aspires to the position of a country gentleman — in tlie dignified sense in which the tenn is used where he is. His place is very beautiful, but it is not largo enough to entitle him to tlie position of one of the great landed proprietors." "Oh! as to that, the extent makes htUe diffei-ence. It is the land that liis fatliers have held for generations, and tliatj is a tliuig to l^e proud of, and to give position, Hose thinks," Baid Arthur. • "His fatlier m.'ver owned it, and his gi-andfather did not hold it long. It v,;is lost to the name many years ago, and bought bacli again by Allan's uncle within ten years." " Yes, with the good money of a good merchant," said HaiTj. ._^«'-;i 4t)8 JANET S LOVE AND SliRVICE. "And did he make it a condition that he should Uvo on it?" said Arthur. " No, I think not. Allan never has said any such thing as that to me, or to my mother." "Still ho may think it liis duty to Uve there." " I don't know. It is not as though it were a large estate, with many tenants, to whom he owed duty and care and all that. I think the hfc suits him. My mother always thought it was a great disaj)pointment to him to be obhged to leave home when he did to enter upon a life of business. He did not object decidedly. There seemed at the tune nothing else for him to do. So he came to Canada." " I daresay his present life is just the very Ufe he could enjoy most. I wonder that you are so vexed about his stay- ing at home, Charlie." " I daresay it is selfishness in me. And yet I don't tliink it is so altogether. I know, at least I am almost sure, that it would be better for him to come here, at least for a tune. He mi<^ht always have the going home to look forward to." " J ' mot imagine how lie can content himself there, after the I vve life he hved on this side of the water ; he will de- generate into an old fogic, vegetating there," said Harry. " But I think you are hard on yourself, Mr. INIillar, calling it selfishness in you to wish your brother to be near you," said Graeme, smihng. ''I could find a much nicer name for it than that." " I would like him to come foi his own sake," said Charhe. " As for me, I was just beginning to know him — to know how superior he is to most men, and then I lost him." He paused a moment — " I mean, of com'se, wo can see httle of each other now, and v\e shall find it much easier to forget one another than if we had hved together and loved and quarrelled with e£.',ch other as boys. I shall see him if I go home next summer, and I don't despair of seeing him here for a visit, at least," " Will, says he means to come some time. Perhaps he will I. JANETS LOVE AND StliVICE. 469 1 come back with you, or witli "Will. Limsclf, when ho comos," said Roso. " Oh ! the voyage Is nothing ; a matter of ten days or losa,** said Arthur. "It is like livl'ig next door ncighboi-s, in com* parison to what it was when we caii.e over. Of course lie may come any month. I don't imdevstand your dcsohition, Charlie." Charlie laughed. " AVhcn is "Will, cominr; ?" " It does not seem to be decided yet," said Graeme. IIo may come in the sprmg, but if he decides to travel lu-st, as he seems to have an opportunity to do, he will not be here till next autumn, at the soonest. It seems a long time to put it ofif, but we ought not to grudge the delay, especially as he may never get another chance to go so easily and pleas- antly." " "What if AVill. should think, like oMr. Ruthven, that a life at home is to be deshed ? How would you like that, girls ?" said Harry. " Oh ! but he never coidd have the same reason for think- ing so. There is no family estate in his case," said Rose, laughing. " Who knows? '* said Arthur. " There may be a httle dim kirk and a low-roofed manse waiting Imn somewhere. That would .«eem to be the most appropriate inheritance for his father's youngest son. What would you say to that Graeme?" " I would rather say nothing — think nothing about it," said Graeme, hastily. "It is not likely that could ever happen. It will all be arranged for us, doubtless." "It was very stupid of 3'ou, Harry, to say aii}'thing of that Boit to Graeme," said Rose. "Now, she will vex herself about her boy, as though it were possible that he could stay there. Ho never will, I know." " I shall not vex myself, indeed, Rosie — at least I shall not until I have some better reason for doing so, than HaiTy'e foolish speeches. Mi'. Millai", you said you might go home 'F ' 470 .TANKTS LOVi: j\SD PF/RVICE. next Rummcr. Is that Hoiucthiiig now ? Oris it only new to UH?" " It is possible that I may go. Indeed, it is very likely. J shall know soon." "It doi)onils on cinainistances over which ho has no con- trol," said I larry, impressively. " He has my best wishes, and ho M'ould have yours, Graeme, I think, if you knew about it." "He has them, thoii^^h I dt^n't know about it," said Graeme. " I have conCidenee in him that he d(\servcs success." " Y(3S, it is safe to wish him success — if not in one tiling", in another. I am not sure tliat ho quite loiows what he ■wants yet, but I tliink I Icnow what is good for him." "liosie," said Fanny, suddenly, " j\Ii\ Millar can set us right now. I am glad I thought of it. INEr. INIillar, is Mrs. Rox- bury your aunt, or only your Ijrother's?" "I am afraid it is only Allan who can claim so close a re- lationship as that. I do n't think I can claim any relation- ship at all. I should have to consider, before I could make it cleiir even to myself, how we are connected." "It is much better not to consider the subject, then," said Arthui', " as they are rather desirable people to have for rela- tions ; call them cousins, and let it go." " But at any rate she is not your aimt, and Amy Roxbury is not your cousin, as some one was insisting over Rose and me the other day. I told you so, Rosie." " Did you ?" said Rose, languidly. " I clo n't remember." **It -was Mrs. Gridley, I think, and she said — ^no, it must have been some one else — she said you w^ere not cousins, but that it was a very convenient relationship, and very pleasant in lertain circumstances." " Very true, too, eh, Charlie," said Arthur, laughing. " I should scarcely ventui'e to call I\Iiss Roxbury cousin," said Charhe. " She is ver}' nice, indeed," pursued Fanny. " Rose fell in love with her at first sight, and the admiration was mutual, I think." jAneti's i.ovk A^'I) BEuvrcE. in Hobo shiiiggod her l louldors. ' "lliat is, pcrbiipH, a lit tin ntrong, Fuirny, dear. Slio m\crj charming, I havo no il()nl)t, l)U't I am not so apt to fall into sudden admirations as I used to Ijo." "But yon admired her vcrv nnicli. AahI you said sho was very lilvo Lily Kli)liinstoiio, when you first saw her. I am sure you thought her very lovely, and so did dracme." " Did I r said Uohc. " She is very like her," said Mr. Millar. " I did not notice it till her mother mentioned it. She is like her in other res- pects, too ; })ut livelier and more energetic. She is stronger tlian Lily used to be, and perhaps a Uttle more like the modern young lady." " Fast, a little, perhaps," said Arthur. "Oh! no; not like one in the 'uipleasant sense th; it th(> word has. She is self reliant. She has her own ideas of men and things, imd they are not always the same as her mannna's. But she Ls a dutiful daughter, and slic is charming with her little brothc_o and sisters. Such a number there are of then- too." Charlie spoke eagerly, looldng at Graeme. " You seem deeply interested in her," said iVi'thur, laughing." Harry rose impatiently. " We should have ]\Irs. Crridley here. I never think a fi'ce discussion of our neighbors and their affairs can be conducted on proper principles without her valuable assistance. Your cout>in would be charmed to know that you made her the subject of conversation among your acquaintance, I have no doubt, Charlie." " But she is not his cousin," said Fanny. " And Harry, dear, you arc unldud to speak of us as mere Rcquaintances of Mr. Millar. Of course, he would not speak of her every^'here ; and you must pcnnit me to say you are a little um'casonablc, not to say cross." And Rose smiled very sweetly on him as she spoke. Harry did look cross, and CharHe looked astonished. Graeme did not ur.derstand it. y^ 472 JANETS LUVII AND bKUVICR. "Was that .youiifif ll()xl)urv I saw you driving witli the othor day?" asked Arthm*. "lie is going into busiucRs, 1 heai'." " It was lio," said Charlio. "Ah to his going into buKnioss, I cannot say. Ho is <|uito young yet. llo is not of ngc. Arc you going, llaiTy V It is not very lato yet." Tlioy did not go hnniodiatoly, but tlicy did not have much phasuri; after that. Kosc; ^vas very Uvely and annising, nnd ^ried to propitiate Harry, Graeme thought, but sho was not fpitc sure ; tliere were a good many allusions to events and places and persons that she did not understand, nnd nothing eould be plainer than that she did not succeed. Then they had some music. Iloso sat at the piano till they went away, l)laying pieces long, loud, and intricate ; and, aft(.>r (hey went away, sh(^sat down again, and played on. still. "What put Ilavry out of sorts to-nighi? " asked Arthur. " Was he out ol sorts 'i " asked CJraeme, a little anxiously. Iloso laughed. *'I shall have to give Harry some good advice," said she ; and that was the last word she said, till she said "good night." " There is something wrong," said Graeme to herself, "though I am sure I cannot tell what it is. In old times, Rosio would have burst forth with it all, as soon as we came up s-tairs. But it is nothing that can trouble her, I am sure. I hope it is nothing that will trouble her. I will not fret about it before hand. We do not know oiu* troubles fi'om our blessings at first siglit. It ought not to be less easy to trust for my darling than for myself. But, oh ! Rohie, I jim afraid I have been at my old foUy, di'eaming idle dreana Bga'.r .' CIIAPTKR XXXTX. (1 Gn.VEME had rcjoicod over lior HistcVs rfliiun, '• lioaiir frco and faiioy-froo," ratlior movo than was ivanonahlo, sochi^ that tho danger to hor frrodom of heart and fancy wan as great at homo tin elsewhere, and, indeed, inevitahL^ any- where, and, nn(hn' corlain circnniHtances, desirable, as \vo\\. A very little thing had (hsturbed her sense of security before many weeks were over, and tlien, amid the mingling of anxiety and h.opo which followed, she could not but feel how vain and foolish her fe(>ling of sncuri(-y had boon. It was tho look that had come hito Charlie INIillar's face one day, as his ey(> fcill sud- denlv on the face of Rose. ( iraeme's heart gave a sudden thr( )b of pahi and doubt, as she saw it, for it told her that a change was coming over their quiet life, and her own experience raado it seem to her a change to bo dreaded. There had been a great snow-rdioo race going on that day, in which they were all supposed to bo much interested, because Master Albert Grove was ono of tho mnners, and had good hope of winning a silver medal which was to be the prize of the foremost in the race. Graeme and Roso had come with his little sisters to look on, and Roso had gi'own as eager and delighted as the children, and stood there quite imconscious of tho admiration in Charlie's eyes, and of the s-iock of pain that thrilled at hor sister's heart. It was more than admira- tion that Graeme saw in his eyes, but the look passed, and ho made no movement through tho crowd toward them, and fcvei*}'thing was just a,-3 it had been before, except that tho thought had come into Graeme's mind, and could not quite be forgotten again. After that the time still went quietly on^ and Charlie came I ^j»^— : . _, .^ 'P^ iU Janet's love and sekvicjb. WP' |. and \vcnt, and ^vaN welcomed as before ; but Graeme looliino' on liim now with enlightened eyes, saw, or thou'^ht she saw, more and more clearly every day, the secret that he did not seem in haste to utter. And every day she ^a\v it with less pain, and waited, at last, glad and wondering, for the time when the lover's word "^ho'ild change her sister's sliy and aomevv'hat stately coui'tcsy into a frank acceptance of whau could not but be precious, (jracmc tliought, though still un- Inown or una^.knowledged. And then the mention of Amy Roxbury's name, and the talk that followed, startled her into the knowledge that she had been dreammg. " Rose," said she, after they had been up stairs for some time, and were about to separate for the night, " what v/as the matter with Ilany this evening ? " " Wliat, indeed ? " said Rose laughing. " He was quite out of sorts about sometliing." "I did not think he knew the Roxburys. lie certainly has not known them long," said Graeme, " No, not very long — at least, not IVIiss Amy, who has only just retiu'ned home, you know. But I think she was not at the root of his trouble; at least, not directly. 1 thmk he has found out a slight mistake of his, with regard lo ' liis fi'iv^nd and partner.' That is what vexed him," said Rose. "I don't know what you mean?" said Graeme, gTavely. " I should tliink Hany could hardly l^e seiiously mistaken in his friend by this time, and certainly I r.'hould not feci inclined to laugh at him." I " Oh ! no. Not seriously mistaken ; and I don't think hi WAS so much vexed at the mistake, as that I should know it.' ! " I don't understand you," said Graeme. " It does not matter, Graeme, it will ail c^me out right, I daresay. Harry was vexed because ho saw that I was Ipughing at him, and it is just as well (hat he should be (eased a httle." "Rose, don't go yet. Y7hat is there between you and fiaiTy that I don't know about ? You would not willingly make me uuhapi^y, Rose, I am sure. Tell me how you hay$ JANET S LOVE ANT) SERVICE. 475 lit.'' It, I Iwas be vexed each other, dear. I notieod it to-iiiL;ht, and I have several times noticed it before. Tell me all about it, Rose." "There is notlung to tell, Graeme, indeed. I was very much vexed with Ilariy once, but I darcoay tlicre was no need for it. Graome, it is silly to repoat it," added Rose, reddening. "There is no one to hear but me, deai." " It was all nonsense. Harry took it i.'ito his head that I had not treated his friend well, whcni he was out West, at Norman's, I mean. Of coiu'se, we could not fall Mito home ways diu'ing his short visit there ; everything was so differ- ent. But I was not ' high and nighty' with him, as Harry declared afterwards. He took nie to task, shari)ly, and ac- cused nie of flirting, and I don't know what all, as though that would help his friend's cause, even if his friend had cared about it, which he (hd not. It was very absurd. I cannot talk about it, Graeme. It was all E.ai*ry^'s fancy. And to-night, when Mr. idiUar spoke so admiringly of Amy Roxbiuy, HaiTy was n't pleased, because he kuew I remem- bered what he had said, and he knew I Avas Liughing at liini. And I fancy he admires the pretty little thing, himself. It would be gi'eat fun to see the dear fiionds turn out rivals, would it not ? " said Rose, laughing. " But that is all nonsense. Rose." " Of course, it is all nonsense, from begining to end. That is just what I think, and what I have been saying to you. So don't let us say or think anything more about it. Good-night." " Good-night. It will all come right, I daresay ;" and Graeme put it out of her thoughts, as Rose had bidden her do. After this, Ilan-y was away for a while, and they saw less of Mr. Millar, because of his absence, Graeme thought. He must have more to do, as the busy time of the coming and going of the ships was at hand. So their days passed very quietly, with only common pleasures to mark them, but they were happy days for all that; and Graeme, seeing her sister'a * — . -_^.*«.-.j»-— - iM«r'aa 476 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. nalf-veilcd ploas''^i'o ■\^'licn Charlie came, and only half con- scious impaticneo ^vhen ho stayed away, sniHed to herself as she repeated, "It will all coivo right." It -was a fair A})ril day ; a little colder than Ap)ril daysara generally suppoi^ed to be, but bright and still — just the day for a long walk, aU agreed ; and Ilosc went up-stah"3 to pre- pare to go out, singing out of a liglit heart as she went. Graeme hastened to fuiisli soniething that she had in her hand, that she might follow, and then a visitor came, and beforo Rose came dowai with her hat on, another came ; and the one that came last, and stayed longest, was tlieu* old friend, and HaiTv's aversion, Mrs. (Jridlev. Rose had reconciled herself to the loss of her walk, by this time, and listened amused to the various subjects discussed, laying up an item now and then, for Harry's sj^ecial benefit. There was variety, for this "was her first visit for a long time. After a good many interesting excursions among the affairs of their fi'iends and neighbors, she brought them back m her pleasant way to tlieii* own. " By the by, is it true that yomig Roxbmy is going into bushiess with Mr. Millar and yoiu' brother ? " " We have not been informed of any such design," said Rose. " Yoiu' brother is away just now, is he not ? ""iVill he re- turn ', Young men who have done business elsewhere, are rtithcr in the habit of calling our city slow. I hope your brother Harry does not. Is 3'oung Roxbury to lalic his place in the firm, or are aU three to be together '? " " Hany does not make his Ijusiness arrangements the su]> ject of conversation very offen," said Graeme, gi-avely. "He is quite right," said IMi's. Gridloy. " And I d'^resay, young Roxbury would not be a great acquisition to the firmj though his ftither's money might. However, some of that may De got in a more agreeable way. ]\Ir. Millar is doing Ids ])est, they say. But, Amy Roxbury is little more than a cliiL.L Still some ^•ery foohsh maniages seem to turn out JANKT8 LOVE AND BEKVICE. 477 very well. Am I not to rcg jMi-h. Elliott, io-diiy ? She is ;\ very devotccl motlicr, it seems," "She would have been linppv to see yoTi, if she had been at home." "And she is quite v. ell again? "Wliat a relief it ninst bo to yon," said 'Mr^. Gridloy, aiiiial>ly. "And you are all quite happy together! I thought you were going to stay at the We,-t, Hose? " "I could not be spared any longer; they could not do with- out me." "And are jou going to keep house for HaiTy, at Elphui- stone house, or is Mr. IMillar to have that'? ' And so on, till she was tired, at last, and went away. " AVliat nonsense that woman talks, to be sure ! " said Rose. "Worse than nonsense, I am afraid, sometimes," said Graeme. " Really, Han-y's teri'or of her is not siu"prising. Nobody seems safe from her tongue." "But don't let us lose our w;dk, altogether. We have tmie to go round the square, at any rate. It is not late," said Rose. They went out, leaving, or seeming to leave, all thought of Mrs. Gridley and her news behind them. They met Fanny returnmg home, before they had gone far down the street. "Come with us, Fanny. Baby is all right. Arc you tired ? " said Rose. " No, I am not tired. But is it not ahnost dinner time ? Suppose we go and meet Arthur." " Well — only there is a chance of nnssing liim ; and it ia much nicer up toward S. street. However, we can go home that way. There wHl be time enough. How delightful tho fresh air is, after a whole day in tho house ! " " And after Mrs. Gridley," said Graeme, laugliing. ' " Have you had Mrs. Gridley ? " said Fanny. "Yes, and columns of news, but it will kec].. Is it not nice to be out ? I would like to bon-ow that cliild's skipping rope, and go up the street as she does." 478 JANET 8 LOVE AND SEEVICE. Film ly laughed. "Wouldn't all the people bo fimazod? Tell mo what news Mrs. Gridley gave you." Eo3c went over a gi'eat many items, very fast, and very meri'ily. "iVll that, and more besides, which Graeme will give you, if you are not satisfied. There is your husband. I hope ho may be glad to sec us all." " If he is not, he can go home by himself." Ai'thur professed himself delighted, but suggested the pro- priety of tlieir coining one at a time, after that, so that the plc.isure might lust longer. "Very well, one at a time be it," said Hose. "Come, Fanny, he thinks it possible to have too much of a good thing. Let him have Graeme, to-night, and ^^'e will take caro of ourselves." They went away together, and Arthur and Graeme follow- ed, and so it happened that Graeme had lost sight of her sister, when she saw somethiug that brought some of Mrs. Grid- ley's words unpleasantly to her mind. They had turned into S. street, which was giy with carriages, and with people rid- ing and walking, and the others were at a distance beforo them under the trees, when Arthur sj)oke to some one, and looking up, she sav/ ]Miss Roxbury, on horseback, and at her side rode IVIi*. Millar. She was startled, so startled that she quite forgot to return Miss Roxbury's bow and smile, and had gone a good way down the street before she noticed that her brother was spealdng to her. He was saying something about the possible admission of yomig Roxbury into the new firm, apropos of the encounter of jMr. Millar and Amy. " Harry is very close about his affairs," said Graeme, ■snth a little vexation. " ISIrs. Gridley gave us that among other pieces of news, to-day. I am not sure that I (hd not deny it, decidedlv. It is r.itlicr awkward when all the town knows of our affairs, before we know them ourselves." "Awkward, indeed!" said Ai'thui-, laughing. "But then this partnership is hardly oiir affair, and Mrs. Gridlev is ngt JANIOT d LOVE AND SERVICK. 479 all tlio town, though she is not to bo hghtHlied, whoro the spreading of news is concerned ; and she tells things befc^ro thcv happen, it seems, for this is not sottlod, yet, and may never be. It would do well for some thin-'-s." But Graeme could not Hston t(3 this, or to anything else, just then. She was wondermg whether Rose liaonie ; and so sho was, as far as any one could see. When Mr. Millar called the llrst time after the night when Graeme had met him with IMiss Eosbury, lioso was not at home. Ho had seen her going into tlic house next door, as he was comhig up tlu; street, he told Mrs. Elliott, when sho wondered what had become of her. She did not come in till late. She had been beguile*! mto playing and singing any number of duets and trios with the 3'oung Gilberts, slie said, and sho had got a new song (hat would inst suit Fanny's voice, and Fanny must come jtid try it. And then she appealed to Arthur, whether it was a i)roper thing for his wife to give up all her music except nursery rhymes, and earned her in triumph to the piano, where they anmscd themselves till baby wanted mamma. She was just as friendly as usual with Mr. Millar during the short time ho staid after that — rather more so, perhaps, for she reminded him of a book Avhich he had promised to bring and had for- gotten. He brought it the very next night, Ijut liose, un- happily, had toothache, and could not come down. She was not "making believe," Graeme assured herself, when she went up staij'S, for her face was flashed, and her hands were hot, and sL.e paid a visit to the dentist next morning. In a day or two Harry came home, and ^Ir. Millar came and went with him as usual, and was very quiet and gi'ave, as had come to be his v>ay of late, and to all appearance everything went on as before. i 432 JANKT fl T.OVE ANO SERVIC'K. •'Graemo,** said FjinnVjCoiifKlciitijilly, Olio iii<4]it wlion all l)ut Kosc wore Hittiiifjf tof'ollior, "I saw tho prcftic4 volvot jacket <()-tlay ! It wfiR triiiiiiH'd in (juilo a new aiylo, qniio Kimply, tiK). I ask(>(.l tlio i)rie(\" " Aiul \vere nKioiiisliocl at its clicainies;-;," said Harry. "For l):il»y, I suppose?" said Artluir. "For l)al)y ! A velvet jackc't! AVliat tiro ytui (hiiikiiiiipnesH. But it was a beauly, and not wvy dear, eoiisid(>rin<^-." "And it is for baby's nianinia, tlien," said Arthur, niakinjjf bdieve to tak(^ out his 2)oekeL book. Fanny shook her lu ad. *'I have any nuiuber of jjiekets," said she. "]3ut, then, you havo worn tlieiu any number of times," said Harry. "They are as ^■0()d as new, but old fashioned? Eh, Fanny ? " said her husband. *' Three weeks behind tho latest style," said Hany. " Nonsense, Ai'thm- ! ^^'llat do you know about jackets, Harry? But, Ch'aenie, Bosie ouglit to have it. You know bIio wants one so mudi." " She spoko about it, I know ; but I don't think she really cares for one. At any rate, she has made up her mind to do without one." " Of course, it would be foolish to caro about what sho could not get," s:nd Fanny, wisely. "But she would like it, all the same, I am sure." The velvet jacket had been discussed between thcso two with nnich interest ; but Rose had given up all thought of it with groat apj^arent reluctance, and nothing had been said about it for some davs. Judging from what her own feelings would have been in similar circumstances, Fanny doubted the sincerity of Hose's resignation. "I believe it is that which has been vexing her lately, though sho says nothing," continued she. " Vexing her," repeated Graeme, " What do you mean, Fanny ? What have you seen ? " ■.A. JANKTri LOVK AND BKKVICi:. 483 *'01i ! I liiivo K(!('n iiotliiii;^' tliat you h.'ivo not hoou as wcill. But I know I hIiouM Ix^ vexed if I \vun((Ml a vclvot j.-urkcit, ftnil cuiilil not *.;( t it ; iit Icust. I should liavc! l)Con wluMi 1 was a youn^jf ^irl liko Rose," add(!d ranny, \vi<1» iho j^^'ulK^ tolerance of a younpf matron, wlio has seen tho folly of girlish wishes, hut does not caro to ])e hard on th(!in. The others lauf^luMl. "And even lafer than that — till hahy eaino to hrinj^ you windoni," said lier hushand. " And it would he nice if llosio could have it Ixfore tho Convocation," continued Far ly, not heediiifjf him. "It would just ho the thiii^- wiih her new liat and ^lay i)0|>lin." "Yes," said (Jraenie, ''hut I don't think Jlos'm wt)ul(l enjoy it unless she felt that she could (juite well afford it. I don't really think she cares ahout it much." " I know what you me;ui, (Iraeme. SIk^ would not like mc to interfere ahout it, you think. But if Arthur or Jlariy would have tho s(-nso to make her a present of it, just he- cause it is pretty and fashionahle, and notbecuiuso she is suj)- pos(!d to want it, ;ind without any hint from you or nu;, that would be nice." "Upon my word, Fanny, you are f^i\)win^'' as wise as your mamma," said Hariy. "A re^^ular mana.^'or." Fanny pouted a little, for she kn(jw that her mannna's wisdom and management were not admired. Graeme hast- ened to interfere. "It is very nice of you to caro so nnicli ahout if, Fanny. You know Rose is very determined to make her m(;ans cover her expenses ; but stiU if, as you say, Harry should suddenly be smitten with admu'ation for the jacket, and present it to her, perhaps it might do. I am not sure, however. I have my misgivings." And not without reason, lioso had an allowance, liberal enough, but not too hberal ; not so liberal but that taste, and skill, and care were needed, to enable her to look as nice as she liked to look. But more than once she had failed to express, or to feel gi-atitude to Fanny, in he r attempts 484 JANKT 8 LOVK AND flERVIOE. to iiKiko it oasior for hor, oltli(>r by an appeal to her lirotliorfl, or l)v (li'awin^ on lur own nioann. Even from Oracnio, hIig would only anco[)t tonniorary asaistanco, and rathor ])rid(!d lierKclf on tlio littlo sliifts and contrivances by which hIio made hor own nicann fjfo to the ntin():;t limit. I5nt Oiero was no dilliculty this time. It all happened natiiridly enoufj^h, and Koho thanlced ITarry with more Wfirmth th.iii was necesssary, in his opinion, or, ind<'ed, intho ()])ini(m of (Ir.icme, "I saw one on Miss ll(jx')nry," said Harry, "or, I ought to Ray, I saw IMins Tl Dxbuiy weirin.iif one ; and I thouq'Ijt it look- ed very well, and so did Charlie." "Oil!" said lios.^, with a loir^- breath. "But then you know ITariy, dear, that I c.xnnot pnjtend to such stylo aa ?,Iiss l^oxbury. I am afraid you will bo disappointed in my j;icl-ot." " You want mo to compliment you, Iiosi(\ Yon Imow you are a great deal in-ettier than little Amy l^oxbury. But sho is very sweet and good, if you would only take pains to know hor. Yon wonld win her heart directly, if you were to try." "But then I should not know what to do with it, if I wero to win it, nnloss I wero to give it away. And hearts arc of no value when given by a third per.ion, as nobody should knowl)etter than vou, Harrv, donr. But I shall do honor to your tasto .all the same ; and twenty more .good brothers shall present jackets to grateful sisfers, seeing how well I look in mine. It is very nice, and I thank you, very nuich." But sho did not look as though she onj(\yed it very much, Graeme could not lu^lp tliinking. " Of course, she did not really care much to have it. Sho does not need to make herself fine. I daresay she -utIII en- joy wearing it, however. It is well she can enjoy something else besides liner v." Tbev aU wont to the Convocation, and Rose wore her new jacket, and her gToy poplin, and looked beautiful, the rest thought. Tlie ladies went early with Arthur, but he waa called away, and it was a little tedious waiting, or it would JAl^KT S LOVK AND 8KUVICE. 495 Imve boon, mily it waH very fimiisiiif,' to roo so many pooplo waH coining in, all (li'ossod in tlu'ir now s[)rinj]f iittiro. Funny en- joyed tliis ])iirt of the nfl'iiii*, very nincb, and Rose Kiiid hIio enjoyed it, loo, quite us nnich an any part of lh«! alVair ; and, l)y and by, Fanny wliispered that there was Hairy, with Mid.; lv()xl)nrv. "I thought HaiTy was not eoniin;.,'," said s!ie. " I suppose^, he was al)k^to f,'(>t away after all," said Cli-aeino, and she looked round for Mr. ^lillar. lie was not to bo seen, but by and by HaiTy eanio round to them, to say that there -were several seats nmeli better than tluMrs, that had' l)een reserved for the TJoxburv i)arfy, because Mr. ]loxl)Ury had sonietlnng to do with the Coll(^;^e, and ]\Irs. lioxbury wanted them to come round and take them, Ijcforo they wero filled. *'wh! how eharminj^'!" said Ivose. "If we oulv eould. Wc should be quite among the j^Tcat people, then, which ia ^vhat I delight in." "I thought you were not coming, IIjiiTy," said Graeme. " I was afraid I could not get away, but I made out to do so. — No, not at Charlie's expense. There he is now, si)eak- ing to Mrs. lioxbury, and lookmg about f(jr us, I dan^say." ""Well, Fanny, j'ou go on with Harry, and CJraeme and I wiU follow," said Hose. "It would not do to sepai'ate, I sup- pose? Ai'o you sure tlicrc is room for all, Harry ?" " Quite sure. No fear ; we will make room." So Hariy gave his arm to Fanny, and Graenic rose to fol- low them, though she would much rather have staid where Bhe waff. AVhen she reached the other end of the long hall, she tm'ued to look for her sister, but Hose had not moved. She could not catch her eye, for her attention was occujued by some one avIio had taken tl'.e seat l)eside her, and Graeme could not linger without losing sight of Harry and Fanny, for the people •were crowding up, now, and only the seats set apai-t for tiie students were left vacant. So she was obliged to hasten on. "I will send Harry back for her," said Graeme, to herself. ip 3 480 JANKT's love and SKIIVICK. " Or, i)('rhii])s, v.liun Artlinr roturnw, kIio will cross tho luiU with liiin. ^^\) luivo m;i(l(3 a very foolish niovo for ull con- conuul, I ihiiilc. lint llosie Hceined to lib; tlio idea, iiiul I dill Dot care. I only ho[)G wo arc not .separated for the whole allair." But Keparated for the whole allair they wore. Arthiu* rc« tununl, but it waM not easy for him to get tlu'ough tho crowd to the place where he had left his wife and sisterH, and when ho reached it, he saw that it would not be easy to ^u;t away again. So as he could see and hear very well where ho was, and as Roso Kccmed quite satisfied with her place, and with tho conipanionshij) of lier little friend, Miss Etta Goldsmith, ho contented himself where he was. Miss Goldsmith had ct)mo to town to see her brother talfo his diploma as doctor of medicine, and sho was in a fever of (inxiety till "dear Dick," had got his precious bit of parch- ment ill his hands. And after that, till ho had performed his duty as orator of his class, and had bidden farewell to each and ftll, in English so flowing and flowery, that she was amazed, as well as delighted, and very grat ful to his classmates for the ap plaiiso, which they did not spare. Rose sat beside the eager little gu'l, so grave and pale, by contrast, perhaps, that Arthur leaned over, and asked her if she wore ill, or only very tired of it all. Then she In-ightened. " There is a great deal more of it, is there not ? I must not be tired yet. Wliy don't you find your way over to Fanny and Graeme ? " ""Wlicre arc tlicy? Ah! yes, I see them over there among the great folks — and Harry, too, no less, and his £i-ieiid and partner. And that bonny little Amy is not far away, I '11 ventiu'o to say. No. I shall stay where I am for tho present." Miss Goldsmith did not feel bound to be specially inter- ested in anybody or anything, except her big brother and liis bit of parchment. And so, when he had given her a nod and a smile, as he came down fi*om the dais, cmmpling his papers in his big hands, she was ready to look about and enjoy her- .lANi:i'ri I.nVK AND BKUVIUE. M Rolf. And to tlio unact'ustoiiicd vyos of tlio coiiulry f,nrl, tlu^ro was a gi'eut doiil worth socin^'. " How beautifully ilio ludicH aru dressed ! llow |)r(tty tlm F|>nn{^ fashions art; ! I feel like an old dowdy ! Who is tiiat lady in blue? What a love of a hat ! Aiid yom* jacket ! It iu a IxMuity ! " It was tlirour(! ad- dressed by a gentleman, whoso boast it seemed to be, that ho had onco l)een a law student himself, 'i'hen they had some Latin nmttered over them, and their heads tai)ped by tho I'rimapal, and somo one else gave them their bits of parch- ment, and then their orator spoke their farewell in llowin;^' and llowery EngUsh. And " will it ever bo done '«*" tliouglit IJose, with a si^li. It was not "just tho thing," all this discussion of hats and fasliious ; but little Miss Goldsmith spoko very softly, and dis- tiu'bed no one, breathed her ciuestions almost, and IJoso answered as silently, with a nod, or a smile, or a tiu'u of the eye ; and, at any rate, they were not tho only people who were thus taking refuge from the dullness of the Dean, and tho prosing of tho Chancellor, Hose thought to herself, as sho glanced about. Arthur whispered that the Chancellor f-ur- pa.ysed himself on tho occasion, and that oven tho Dean war/ not very prosy, and Hose did not dissent, but sho looked aC if it was all a wcaruicss to her. She bnghtened a little when it was all over, and they rose to go. *' Go and find Fanny and Graeme," said she to her brother. " Dr. Goldsmith will take care of his sister and me." Dr. Goldsmith was nothing loth, and Rose was so engaged in offering her congi'atulations, and in listening to his rophes. and in responding to the greetings of her many fiiends as she came down into the hall, that she did not notice that Graeme and IVIr. Millar were waiting for her at the Lead of the staii-s. There was a little delay at the outer door, where there were many carriages waiting. The Roxbury caniage was among 81 488 JANET 8 LOVE AND SKllVICE. the rcBt, it^cl Miss Tvoxljiiry was Rlttin,":,' in it, tlinup^li Hose conlcl not help tlr^i king rIig looked as tlioii^^h slic would much rather have walked on with the rest, as Harry Avas so bold as to propose. They were waitini^ for Mr. Koxbury, it RGcnK d, and our P'"-rty lingered over theii last words. " I A\ ill walk on A\itli the Goldsmiths. I have sometlnjjg to say to Etta," said Rose, and before Graeme could expostu- late, or, indeed, answer at all, she was gone. The carriage passed Ihem, and ]\[iss Eoxljury leaned forward and bowed and smiled, and charmed Miss (goldsmith A^th her j^retty manner and perfect hat. T;i -i little, Harry overtook them. Eose ])resentcd him to Miss Goldsmith, and wallced on with the Doctor. At the gate of the college gTounds, their ways separated. " ?Jr. Elliott," said Miss Goldsmith, "your sister has al- most promised to come and visit us when I go home. I do A. O SO want papa and mamma to see her. Brother Dick goes home to-morrow, but I am going to stay a day or twq and then I want liose to go with me. Do tr}' and persuade Miss EUiott to let her go." Harry promised, with more politeness tlian sincerity, say- ing ho had no doubt Graeme would be hapj)y to give Rose the pleasure, and tlien they got away. " Papa, and mamma, and brother Dick. I declare it looks Berious. AYliat are you meditating, now, Rosie, if I may ask ? " " My dear Harry, if you think by cha£f to escape the scold- ing you know you deserve, you will find youi'self mistaken. The idea of your taking Graeme aiid Fanny away, and leaving me there by myself ! I don't know what I should have done if Arthur had not come back. To be sure I had Etta Gold- smitli, who is a dear little thing. I don't think her big bro- ther is so very ugly if ho had n't red haii*. And he must be clever, or he would not have been permitted to make that speech. His papa and mamma must be dehghted. But it was very shabby of you, HaiTy, to g^ and leave me alone ; was it not, Arthur ? " I b; to yc bi; OS If JANKT S LOVE AND SliliVICK. 489 jold- Lkeu. Iving hone lold- Ibro- It be Itliat it it me; " But, you might have come, too," said Faiir.y. " I tho::ght Tou were following us." " And so did I," said Graeme. " WeU, dear little Etta Goldsmith pounced upon me the moment you left, and then it was too late. I did not feel sufficiently strong-minded to elbow my w^iy througli the crowd alone, or I might have followed you." "I did not miss you at first," said Harry, "luid then I wanted Charlie to go for you, but " "He very properly refused. Don't excuse ;) our self, Hany. And I had set my heart on comparing jackets with Miss RoxbuiT, too." " "Why did j'ou not stay and speak to her at the door, then? " said Han*y, who had rather lost his presence of mind under his sister's reproaches. He had hurried after her, fnUy intending to take her to taslc for being so still' aud distant, and ho was not prepared to defend himselP. " Why did n't you wait and speak to her :.t the door ? " " Oh ! you know, I could not have seen it well then, as she w^as in the carriage. It is very awkward looking up to car- riage people, don't you think ? And, besides, it would not have been quite polite to the Goldsmiths," added she, severe- ly. '• You know they befriended me v/hen I was left alone." *' Befj-ionded you, indeed. I expected every minute to see your feather take fire as he bent his red head do\Mi over it. I f(>lt lilie giving him a beating," said Harry, savagely. Iloso laughed merrily. "IVIy dear H^aiT v ! You couldn't do it. He is so much y^igger than you. At least, he has greater weight, as the figliling people say." " But it is all nonsense, Bose. I don't like it. It looked to me, and to otlie^ people, too, very nmch like a ilirtation on voiu' part, to leave the rest, and go away with that big — big " " Doctor," sur^-gested Bose. "And wo shall have all the town, and Mi's. Gvidloy, telling OS next, that von Kit .1 490 JANETS L0V15 AND SERVICE. \f " HaiTy, dear, I always know when I hear you mention All's. Gridlcy's name, thtd yoii arc bocomiiig incoherent. I leave you ! Qiiite the contrary. And please don't use that naughty word m coimection Avith my name again, or I may be driven to defend myself in a w\ay that might not be agi*ee- ablc to you. Dear me, I thought you were gi'owing to be reasonable by this time. Don't let Graeme see us quarrel- ling." " You look tired, dear," said Graeme, as they w^nt up stairs together. " Well, it was a little tedious, was it not ? Of course, it would n't do to say so, you know. However, I got through it pretty well, wuth little Etta's help. Did you enjoy the Rcxbury party much ? " "I kept wishmg we had not separated," said Graeme. " Oh ! yes, I enjoyed it. They asked us there to-night io meet S(jmc nice people, they said. It is not to bo a party. Harry is to dme here, and go with us, and so is Mr. Millar." " It will be very nice, I daresay, only I am so very tired. However, we need not decide till after clinner," said Rose. Mtor dinner she declared herself too sleepy for anything but bed, r,nd she had a headache, besides. " I noticed you looked quite pale this afternoon," said Ar- tlnu'. " Don't go if you are tired. Graeme, what is the use of her going if she does not want to ?" " Certainly, she ought not to go if she is not weU. But I think you would enjoy this much better than a regular party , and we might come home early." " Oh ! I enjoy regular parties only too well. I will go if you wish it, Graeme, only I am ali'aid I shall not shine with my usual briUiancy — that is all !" "I hope you are really ill," said Harry. "I mean, I hope you are not just making believe to get rid of it." " jMy dear Harry ! Why, in all the world, should I make bo- heve not well * to get rid of it,' as you so elegantly express it ? Such gTcat folks, too !" " Harry, don't be cross," said Fanny. " I am sure T heard Janet's love and service. 491 JO if I with lope bo- it? jard yow sa3% a clay or two siuco, that Rose was looking thin." "Hurry, 'jar!'' said Rose, ^Yith effusion, "give mo yoni* hauil. I forgive yon all the rest, for that special compliment. I have had horrible fears lately that I was getting stout — mid- dle-aged looking, as Grae;>ie says. Ai'e you quite sineoro iu Bayng that, or are you only maldng bcheve ?" " I did n't intend it as a compliment, I assure you. I did n't /iiink you were looking very well." " Did you not ? What would you advise ? Should I go to the comitry ; or should I put myself under the doctors care? Notour big friend, whom you were going to ])eid," said Rose, laughing. "I think you are a very siDy girl," paid Harry, with dignity. " You told me that once before, do n't you remember ? And I do n't think you are at all polite, do you, Fanny ? Come up stairs, Graeme, and I ^^ill do your hair. It would not bo proper to let Harry go alone. He is in a dreadful temper, is he not ?" And Rose made a pretence of being afraid to go past him. "Mr. Millar, cannot you do or say somethmg to soothe your friend and partner ?" Harry might luiderstand all this, but Graeme could not, and she did not like tliis mood of Rose at all. However, slio was very quiet, as she dressed her sister's hair, and spoke of the people they had seen in the afternoon, and of the ex- ercises at the coUege, in her usual niorry way. But she did not wish to go out ; she was tired, and had a headache, listiui- ing to two or three things at one time, she said, and if Gramme coiJd only go tliis once withe ut her, she would be so glad. Graeme did not try to persuade her, but said slio must go to bed, and to sleep at once, if she wero left at home, and \cu she ^ent away. She did not go very cheerfully. She had had two or three glimpses of her sister's fac^e, after she had gone to the other side of the hall with Harry, before Miss Goldsmith had com- menced her whispered confidences to Rose, and she had seen there a look which brought back her old misgivings that there ' ' ''i 192 JA-NET 8 LOVE .\ND SERVICE. "was something troubling Lcr darling. She was not ablo to put it away again. The foolish, light talk between Rose and HaiTy did not tend to rc-aasurc her, and when she bade her sister good-night, it was all that she could do not to show her anxiety by her words. But slio only said, " good-night, and go to sleep," and then went down stairs with a heavy heart. She wanted to speak with Harry about the sharp words that had more than once passed between him and lloso of late ; but Mr. Millar walked with them, and she could not do so, and it v,an vv'ith an anxious and i^reoccupied mind that she entered Mr. Roxbury's house. The di'awing-room was very handsome, of course, with very little to distinguish it fi'om the many fine rooms of her friends. Yet when Graeme stood for a moment near the folding-d(Jors, exchanging greetings ^vith the lady of the house, the remembrance of one time, when she had stood there befor.-e, came sharply back to her, and, for a moment, her heart u'rew hot with the angry pain and shame that had throbbed in it then. It was only for a moment, and it was not for herself. The pain was crossed by a thrill of gladness, for the more certaui kaowledge that came to her that for her- self she was content, that she wished nothing changed in her own liio- t liat fiLe had outlived all that was to be regret- ted of that troubled time. She had linown this before, and the knowloago camo home to her j(iyfully as she stood there, but it chd not lighten her burden of dread of what niighi lie in the future for lier sister. It did not leave her all the evening. She watched the pretty, gentle Amy, flitting about among her father's guests, with a feeling wihch, but for the guileless sweetness of the girl's face, the innocent unconsciousness of every look and movement, might luuc grown to bitterness at last. She watched her ways and words \\itli ]\Ir. ]Mill;ir, wishing, in her look or manner, to see some demand for his admiration and attention, that might excuse the wanderinQ' of his fancy from Rose. But she watched in vain. Amy was sweet and modest with him as ^\ith others, more friendly and um-eservcd than I' »timm» M I — JiiNET S LOVE AND SEliVICE. 493 Ue with most, perhaps, but sweet and inodcst, and uncoiis.'iuus, still. '•She ii very Hko Lily Elphinstonc, iri sl:c not?" said her orothcr Harry in her ear. She stiirted at his vcjico ; but she did not turn toward him, or remove her eyes from the young giii's face. " She is very like Lily — in all thin^^," said (Jracmo ; and to herself she added, " and she will steal the treasure from my darling's life, as Lily stole it from mine — imiocently and unconseiously, but inevitably still — and from Harry's, too, it may be." And, with a new p;ing, she turned to look at lier bristlier'.} face ; but Hany was no longer at h(?r side. ilr. Milltir was there, and his eyes had been following hers, as Harry's had been. "She is very sweot and lovely — very like Lib', is she not?" ho whispered. " Very like her," repeated Graeme, her eyes closing with a momentary feeling of sickness. "You are very tired of :ill this, I am afraid," said he. " Very tu-ed ! If Harry only would take me home 1" " Shall I take you home ? At least, let me take you out of the crowd. Have you seen the new i)ietm-o they are all talk- ing about ? Shall I take you up stairs for a little while." Graeme rose and laid her hand on his arm, and went up stairs in a dream. It was all so like what had Ijeen before — the lights, and the music, and the hum of voices, and the sick pain at her heart ; only the pain was now for lloso, and so much worse to bear. Still in a ch'cam, she went h'oni pictm-e to picture, listenmg and replymg to she knew not what ; and she sat down, with her eyes fixed on one beautiful, sad face, and prayed with aU her heart, for it was Ilosie's face that looked down at her from the canvas ; it was Eosie's sorrow that she saw in those sweet, appealing eyes. "Anything but tliis great sonvnv,'' she was saying in her heart, forgetting all else in the agony of her entreaty ; and her companion, seeing her so moved, went softly away. Not 494 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. very f{ir, however. At the first sound of aioproachmg foot- stops he was at her side again. "That is a vciy sad picture, I think," she said, coming back with an effort to the presout. " I have seen it once be- fore." Charlie did not look at the picture, but at her changing face. An impulse of synipatl.iy, of admiration, of respect moved him. Scarce knowing what he did, ho took her hand, and, before ho placed it within his arm, ho raised it to his Ip'?. " Miss Elliott," murmured ho, " ijou will never take your friendship from me, whatever may happen V She was too startled to answer for a moment, and then they were in the crowd agam. ^Miat was he thinking of ! Of Allan and the j^ast, or of Rose and Amy and the future ? A momentary mdignation moved her, but she did not speak, and then little Amy was looking up in her face, rather anx- iously and wistfully, Graeme thought. " You are not going away. Miss Elhott, a^*e you ?" said she. " I am very tired," said Graeme. " Oh ! here is my brother. I am very sorry to take you away, Harry, but if you don'i mind much, I should like to go home. Will you make my adieux to your mother, Miss Roxbury? — No, please do not come up stairs. I would much rather you did not. Good night." " You might at least have been civil to the little thing," gTowled Harry, as she took his arm when they reached the street. Graeme laughed. " Civil !" she repeated and laughed again, a hitle bitterly. " Oh ! HaiTy, dear ! there are so many things that you can- not be supposed to know. But, nideed, I did not mean to bo uncivil to the child." " Then you Avere uncivil without meaning it," said Harrj', sharply. Graeme was silent a moment. " I do not choose to answer a charge like that," said slie. '* I beg your pardon, Graeme, but — -" «vimt. I -ap* JANETS LO\E AND SERVICE. 495- >> *'■ Harry, liusli ! I will not listen to you." They did not '^iioak again till tlicy reached home. Tlicn Graeme said, " I must say sonictliing to yon, Hariy. Let su walk on a little. It is not late, ilariy, what is the trouble between von and Rose ?" "Trouble!" repeated Harry, in amazement. "Dc you mean because slie fancied he)'solf left alone this afternoon ?'' "Of course I do not mean that. But more than once lately you have spoken to each other as thoii^^i you wc"*^; alluding to something of which I am ignorant — something that must have hapj)ened when you were away fi'om home — at the West, I mean — something which I have not been told." " Graeme, I don't understand what you mean. "\Miat could possibly have happened which has been concealed from you ? Why don't you ask Rose ?" " Because I have not hitherto thought it necessaiy to ask any one, and now I jircfcr to ask you. HaiTy, dear, I don't think it is anything very serious. Don't be impatient with me." "Has Rose been saying anything to j'ou?" " Nothing that I have not heard you say yourself. You accused her once in my hearing of being too fond of admii'a- tion, of — of flirting, in short — " " My dear Graeme ! I don't think I ever made any such aSijertion — at least in a way that yon or Rose need to resent — or complain of." " Rose does not complain of it, she langhs at it. Harry, dear, what is it ? Don't you remember one night when some- thing was said about Mrs. Gridley — no, don't be impatient. You were annoyed with Rose, then, and it was not about any tiling that was said at the time, at least I thought not. I don't wish to seem prying or inqnisitive, but what concenis itter to me. She is more to me th gi'eat any one. «<:i Graeme," said Hany, gravely, "you don't su}'i)ose that I love Rose less than you do, I think I know what you mean, I 'I I I i« 490 JANKT S L(JVE AND SERVICE. however. I annoyed her onco by sometliing I said about Charho, Ijut it was only for the moment. I am sure she does not care al)out that now." " About Cliarlie !" repeated Oraemo. " Ye.s ; you did not laiow it, I suppose, l)ut it wiis a serious matter to Charho wl-.en you and Kose went away that time. Ho was like a man lost. And I do beheve she cared for him, too — and I told hhn so — only she was such a child." "You told him so!" repeated Graeme, in astonishment. ' "I could not help it, Graeme. The poor fellow was in such a way, so — so miserable ; and when he went "West last winter, it was more to sec Eoso than for anything else. But he came bad: (piite downhearted. She was so much run after, he said, and she was very distant with him. Not that ho said very much about it. But when I went out there afterwards, I took her to task sharply about it." " Harry ! How could you ?" " Very easily. It is a serious thing when a gu-1 plays fast and loose with a man's heart, and such a man as Charho. And I told her so roundly." " And how did she take it ?"' asked Graeme, in a maze be- tween astonishment and vexation. " Oh ! she was as high and mighty as possible, called my interference rudeness and mijicrtinence, and walked out of the room like an oflended princess — and I rather think I had the worst of it," added Harry, laughing at the remembrance. " But I don't bear malice, and I don't thinlc Eoso docs." *' Of coiu'se, she does not. But Harry, dear, though I should not call yom* interference impertinent in any bad sense, I must say is was not a very wise thing to take her to task, as you coll it I don't believe Mr. Millar ever said a word to her about — about his feeling".^, and you don't suppose she was going to confess, or allow you to scold her about — any one." " Now, Graeme, don't be missish ! ' Never said a word !' — Why, a blind man might have seen it all along. I know we all looked upon her as a child, but a woman soon knows when a man cares for her." Janet's lovk and sekvice. 497 " No wiao ^volnan will ackuowlocl^^o it to anotlicr till hLo has beeu toltl so in ^vord8 ; ut least ylio ought not," aaicl Grucuu>, gravely. "Oil, well! — tluTo is no u.-;e talking. IVrliap:! I was fool- ish ; but I love Charlie, dearly. I daresay Hose thinks her ^ Belf too good for him, because he does not pretend to bo so wonderfully intelleetual as some of her admin^rs do, and you may agree with her. liut I tell you, (iraeme, Charlie is pm-e gold. I don't know another that will comi)are with hhn, for everything pure and good and high-muided — unless it is our own Will ; and it is so long since we have seen him, we don't know how he may bo changed by this tmie. Lut I can swear for Charlie." "You don't need to swear to me, ilarry. You know ^Yell I have always liked CJiarhe." " Well, it can't be helped now. Charlie has got over it. Men do get over those things, tliougli it doesn't seem possible to them at the time," added ILirry, meditatively. "I was rather afraid of llosie's coming home, and I wanted Charlie to go to Scotland, then, but he is all right now. Of course you are not to suppose that I bhinie Hose. Such things will happen, and it is well it is no worse. It is the way with those girls not to know or value true worth because they see it every day." " Poor Charhe !" said Graeme, softly. " Oh ! don't fret about Charlie. He is all right now. Ho is not the man to lose the good of his life because a silly girl doesn't know her owai mind. ' There 's as good fish in t ho sea,' you know. If you are going to bo sorry for any one, let it be for llosie. She has lost a rare chance for happiness in the love of a good man." " But it may not bo lost," murmured Graeme. "I am afi'aid it is," said Harry, gravely. "It is not in Rose to do justice to Charlie. Even you don't do it, Graeme. Because he lives just a common-place life, and buys and sells, and comes and goes, like other men, you women have not tho discrimination to see that he is one of a thousand. As for u ! 498 JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. Roso, with hor romance, and hor nonsenso, bIio is looldnpf for a lioro and a paliulin, and does not knew a true heart when it is laid at her feet. I only hope; she wont * wait for the hats till the blue-bonnets go by,' as Jaiuit used to say." " As I have done, you would hko to add," said Graeme, laughing, for hor heart was growing H<;ht. "And Harry,' dear, Rosie never had anybody's heart laid at her feet. It is you who are growing foolish and romantic, in your love for your friend." " Oh ! well. It does n't matter. She will never have it now. Charlie is all right by this time. Her high and mighty airs have cured him, and her flippancy and her love of admi- ration. Fancy her walking off today with that red-headed fool, and quite ignoring Mrs. Roxbury and her daughter, when they — Miss Roxbury, at least — wanted to see her to engage her for this evening." " He is not a fool, and he cannot help his red hair," said Graeme, laughing, though there -^as both sadness and vexa- tion in her heart. " The Goldsmiths might have called her * high and mighty ' if she had left them and gone quite out of her way, as she must have done, to speak to those * fine carriage people.' She could only choose between the two parties, and I think politeness and kindness suggested the propriety of going on with her friends, not a love of admira- tion, as you scom determined to suppose." " She need not have been rude to the Roxburys, however. Charlie noticed it as well as I." "I think you are speaking very foolishly, Harry," said Graeme. " Wliat do the Roxburys care for any of us ? Do you suppose Mrs. Roxbury would notice a slight from a yoimg girl like Rose. And she was not rude." "No, perhaps not ; but she was polite in a way so distant and dignified, so condescending, even, that I was amazed, and so was Charlie, I know, ';hougli he did not say so." " Nonsense, Harry ! Rose knows them but very slightly. And what has Mr. Millar to do with it ?" " Jklr. Millar !" exclaimed Harry. " Do be reasonable, JANKT 8 LOVE AND SKUVICK. 409 3r. ;o id |e, C?rueme. Is it not of Mr. IVIilhir that wo liiivc been spcakiiij,' all this tiiiio V Ho has cverjthiiij» to do witli it. And as for not knowinf? them. I am siiro Koso was at first delighted with Miss Koxbiiry. And Amy was as deli^^hted with hor, and wanted to bo intimate, I know, liut lloso is such a flighty, flippant little thing, that ■" " That w ill do, Harry. Such remarks may be reserved for Mr. Millar's hcarmg. I do not chooHO to listen to them. You arc very unjust to llose." "It is you who are unjust, Graeme, and unreasonable, and a little out of temper, which does not often happen with you. I am Hiu'O I don't midcrstand it." Graeme laughed. "Well, perhaps I am a little out of temper, Ilariy. I laiow I am dreadfully tired. We won't say luiything more about it to-night, except that I don't like t(i have l^)so mis- understood. " *' I was, perhaps, a little hard on Kosie, once, but I don't think I misunderstand her," said Harry, wisely. " She is just like other girls, I suppose ; only, Graeme, you havo got me into the way of thinking that my sisters should not bo Just like other girls, but a great deal better in every way. And I shan't be hard on her any more, now that it is all right with Charhc." But was it all right with Charhc ? Graeme's talk Avith Hariy had not enlightened her nmch. Had pretty, gentle Amy Roxbm*y helped CharHe " to get over it," as Htu-ry's manner of speaking seemed to imply ? Or did Charhc still care for Rose ? And had Rose ever cai-cd for him " in that way ?" Was Rose foolish, and flippant, and fond of admira- tion, as Hany declared ; and was she gi-owing dissatisfied with their quiet, uneventful life? Was it this tliat had brought over her the change which could not be talked about or noticed, which, at most times, could not be believed in, but which, now and then, made itself evident as very real and very sad ? Or was it something else that was bringing a cloud and a shadow over the life of her young sister ? Evea 500 •tanict's lovk Axn SFIIVTOK. in hnr ihoupfhtH, Oraomo Rlmink fi-om adniittinp; that Rose mifjfht 1)0 v lAuv^ to tlu! lcii()\vl('(l;^^(5 of her own Iu»ai't too lato for lier ImppincsM. "Twill not Ix'liino lliai sho Iiiih nil iliiit to pass tlironj^h. It cannot bo ho had as that. I will Imvo pationco and tnist. I oannot Rpciik to licr. It would do no good. I will wait and tnist." Graoino sat lon^jf that ni,L,dit listoninf:^ to tho qniot broath* hig of hor Hloopinjjf sister ; but all tho anxious thoughts that jiassod through her mind could only cud in tliis : " I will wait and trust." c n A P T U U X 1. G"^ llAK^IFi awolco in llio iiioniinrr to wondor at all the J~ (loiibta ami aiixietios that had iillcd her inuid in tho darkness ; for she was nvouHod hy baby kisses on hor lips, and ojionod Lcr oycs to see her sister lloso, with her neplicw in her arms, and her face as bright as tlio ^fay nioniiiif^', Kniiling down upon her. Hose disajijiointcd and sad ! I^)so hiiUng in lier heart hojics that were never to ])0 realized ! She listened to her voice, rinninj,' tlironyh tho house, like tho voice of tho morninf^' lark, and wondered at her owii folly. Sho lauf^hod, as Rose l)al)l)l(Hl to tho child in the wonderful baby lan^iaj^o in wliich she so excelled ; but tears of thnrik- fulness rose to her eyes as sho remembered tho fears of tho night, and sot them face to face witli the joy of tho moniing. "I could not have bomo it," sho said to herself. " I am afraid I novcr could have borne to sco my darling cboopiiig, as sho must have done. I am content with my own lot. I think I would not cpro to change anything the years havo brought to mo. Eut Rosiu . Ah ! well, I miglit havo known ! I know I ought to tnist for Iiosie, too, oven if trouble were to come. But oh ! I am very glad jtnd thankful for her sake." Sho was late in the breakfast-room, and sho fomid Harry there. " * The early bii'd,' you know, Graeme," said he. " T havo been telling Eosie what a scolding you wore giving mo last night on our way homo." " But ho won't tell me what it was all about," eaid Rose. "I cannot. I don't know myself. I havo an idea that you had something to do with it, Rosie. But I can give no vJ^ 502 JANKt's love and SEKVtCE. I I detailed account of the circumstances, as the newspapers say." " It is not absolutely necessary tbat you sliould," saici Graeme, smilinyf. " I hope you are in a much better Immor this morning, Graeme." " I think I am in a pretty good humor. Not that I confess to being very cross last night, ho\Yever," " It was he who was cross, I daresay," said Rose. * Yo:i brought him away before supper ! No wonder lie was cross. Ai'c you going to stay very long, Harry ?" " Why ? Have you any commands for me to execute ?" " No ; but I am going to introduce a subject that will try your temper, judging from youi' conduct yesterday. I am afraid you will be threatenhig to beat some one." Hd'- y shrugged his shoulders. "Now, Graeme, don't you call that flippant? Is it any- thing about the big doctor, Eosio ?" " You won't beat him, will you Harry ? No. It is only about his sister. Graeme, Fanny has given me leave to in- vite her here for a few days, if you have no objection. She cannot be enjoying herself very much where she is staying, and it will be a real holiday to the little tlimg to come hero for a while. She is very easily amused. She makes j)leasiu'e out of everything. May n't she come ?" " Certainly, if you would like her to come j I should like to know her very much." " And is the big brother to come, too ?" asked Ai-thur. "No. He leaves town to-day. "Will you go with me, Itany, to fetch her here V" " But what about * papa and mamn \' to whom you wera to be shown? The cunning, little thuig has some design upo'i you, Rosie, or, p'^rhajDS, on some of the rest of us." Ro.-ij laughed. "Don't be fi'ightened, Horry. You ai'e sale, as you are not domesticated vdth us. And I intend to show myself to * papa and mamma ' later, if you don't object." iHm JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. 503 [9 •a '^ There ! look at Graeme. She thmks you antl I are qnaiTCJUnp:, Ilosio. 8he is as j^'ave as a judge." " Tell us about the party, Harry," said Fanuy. " It was very pleasant. I don't think Graeme enjoyed it much, however. I wonder, too, that she did not, for there were more nice people there than we usually see at parties. It was more than usually agreeable, I thought." "You are degenerating, Han-y," said his brother. "I thought you were beyond all that sort of thing. I should have thought you would have foiuid it slow, to say the least." " And then to make hun lose the supper ! It was too bad of you, Graeme," said Rose. "Oh! she did n't. I went back again. " They all exclaimed. Harry, only, laughed. " Can I do anything for you and your friend, llosie ? " asked he. " Yes, indeed you can. I hitend to make a real holiday for the httle thing. We are open to any proposal in tlie way of pleasure, riding, driving, boating, picnicing, one and all." " It is very kind of you, Harry, to ofler," said Graeme. " Hem ! not at all. I shall be most happy," said Harry. "Oh! we shall not be exacting. We are easily amused, little Etta and I." Miss Goldsmith's \dsit was a success. She was a veiy ni(;e little gh'l, whose hfe had been passed in the country- -not in a viQage even, but quite away from neighbors, on a farm, in which her father had rather unfortunately invested the greater part of his means. It might not prove to be dnfortunate in the end, Etta explained to them, because the land was valuable, only in the meantime it seemed to take all the income just to keep things going. But by and by she hoped farming would pay, and the place was beautiful, and they lived very happily there, if they only had a httle more money, Etta added gi'avely. Dick was the hero who was to retrieve the fallen fortunes of the family, Etta thought. He was her only oa\ti brother. All the rest of the childi'en were only her half-brothers and 32 ii y i ; 501 .JANKT S LOVE AM) SKJiVICE. I- sifltci's. But iiot\viLh«ttUidin|^ tlic hard times to which Etta conlV's:;o(l, ilicy wcvc a very happy family, it sceincd, Evcrylliiui^ was luado pleasure by this little girl. It was plc\asure just to drive through the streets, to see the well- dre.ssevl poDplo, to lool; in at the shop windows. Shopping' was pleasure tliough she had little to spend. An hour in a book- seller's, or hi a fancy shop, was pleasure. The churches, old and new, were wonderful to her, some for one reason, some for another. Eosc and she became independent and strong- minded, and went everywhere without an escort. They s^icnt a day in wandering a])out the shady walks of the new cemetery, and an aftt^rnoon gazing down on the city from the cathech'al lowers. They paid visits and received them ; and, on rainy days, worked and read together with great dehght, if not v/ith nmch proJlt. Eose, with lu^th heart and hands, helped lier friend to make the most of her small allowance for dress; and contrived, out of odds and ends, to make pretty, inexpen- sive ornaments for her, and presents for her little brothers and sisters at home. She taught her new patterns m crochet, and nev/ stitclies m Berlin a\oo1. She even gave her a music lesson, now and then, and msisted on her practising, daily, that she miiiht ,';"*.'t back what she had lost since she left school, and so be able the better to teach her little sisters when slie went home. Li short, she contrived to till up the time with anmscment, or with ^vork of some sort. Not a moment but was occupied in soiue way. Of course, Graeme Avas sometimes included in their plans f^)r the day, and so ^vere Fanny and baby, but for the most part the young girls were occupied with each other ; and the visit, which v;as to have been for a few days, lengthened out beyond the monih, and might have been longer than that, even, only Bose had a sliglit, feveris]» attack which confined her to her room r,»L a day Ox' two, and then Etta could no long(^r hide from herself that she ought to >j;o home. '' I hope I shall not lind that this pleasant tune has spoiled me. 1 think papa and manima are somewhat afraid. I mean t(j be good, and contented, and helpful ; but I know I am only a t: d b: m hi FJ] Ltta was .veil- way look- ?, old sonio roug- ^pent Jtery, Lodial rainy i not lelped ilrcss; ixpcn- athcrs pclict, music daily, lio left isters ip tlie ot a plans [t i)art visit, leyond only to her ir liido Ipoiled loau lo I only a Janet's l«>ve AxNd &euvici;. silly little tiling. Oh ! Rosio ! if you were only goir.g home ■with niG for a little while ! " " I .should like it very nnicli, indeed," said Rose. "Of com'.se, cvcrythmg is very different at our house, but yt .1 would n't mind that. Mis.s Elliott, do n't you think you could Rparo llo.sc to me for a few day.s ? " Graeme sh(jok her head. "I think I have .si)ared her to you a good many days. 1 have seen very little of her for a long time, I think." Miss Goldsmith looked gi'ieved and pciiit;ut. " Nonsenso, Etta," said Hose ; " she is only lam^hing at you. She has had you and me, too. And I should like very nuich to go with yo;i. 'I'his is the nicest time of the year t ) Ix) in the countr}', I think. What do you say Graeme ? " Little Etta clasped her hands, and looked at Graeme so in- treatingly, that Rose laughed heartih-. But Graeme said uotliuig encouraging. However, the very hottest davs of the summer came that season among the first June days, and, be- cause of the heat, Graeme thought Rose did not recover from licr illness so quickly as she ought to have done. She was languid and pale, though pretty bus}' stil)., and cheerful, and Graeme proposed that she should go with her friend for o few days, at least. Etta was enchanted. " I am afraid my resolutions about being good, and heh )ing mamma, and teaching the little ones, would have fallen through, for I know I am a foolish ghl. But ^\•ith Rose to lielp me, just at first, I shall succeed I kaovv'." " Don't be silly, Ella," said Rose. '' You are a great deal \\iser and better, and of a great deal more ilsj in the ^"orld, tlian ever I was, or am lilce to bo. All my wisdoiu is lip-wis- dom, and my goodness lip-goodness. If they will lielp you, you r>liall have the boneilt of them ; but pray do n't mako mo blush before Graeme and Fanny, who know mo so well." No time had to be lost hi preparations. The decision was made one day, and they were to leave the next. Harrv, with his fi'ieud and partner, oamo up one night to bid jMiss Gol'; ; but out there you and I could make a homo to ourselves, and l)c independent, and have a life of our own. It is so different there. You ought to go there just to understand how very tlifferent it is." "If we needed a home," said Graeme. " But, Rose, I am content with the home we have." " Content ! " roDcated Roso, imj^atiently. " There is surely '. :i ill: bH JANKT'ti LOVJ AM) SI.KVICK. • Foinothinjj; boll ur tliiincontcn b to 1)0 lookod fo' in tho woi .d;" and nho ros'i iiud widkc (1 iilx) lit ilio room. "Content is ji wvy ^'ood thiu'^' to liuvo," baid Gi'iicmo, 1 (luictly. 1 " YoH, if o\u) could liiivo it. But now, ririK* mo, d I) tell mo 1 II I vrliiit is tho ^'ood of kikIi a lif'' uh wo arc living' now? — an I am liviiifjf, I t)n<^lit to Hay. Your lifo and work aro worth a ^':froat deal to (ho nsst of us ; (hou<^di you must lot mo say I often wonder it contents yt)',i. Think of it, Graenu! ! What does it all amount to, as far as I am concerned, I moan? A little workin^jf, and roadin!. " What is il, Iioso? I ani afraid I was thinldnjif about poiaothin^' else. I don't think I fiuito undorfltand wliat you wero sayinj^ lust," said Graeme, t ikinj^ up hor work as a safe thinpf on which to fix hor oyos. | " For I must not let hor soo that I know thcro nmst bo iv cause for this suddcm wish for a now hfe," said sho to hor- Bolf. If sho had done what sho Lnip^ed to do, she would havo taken tho impatient, troubled child in hor arms, and whispered, as Janet had whispered to her that ni;^dit, so ];)n^ a{jfo, tliat tJK! rc^stless ft^ver of her heart would [)ass awnv ; sho would havo Roc)tl)od and comforted her, v.ith tender words, as Janet had not dared to do. Sho would havo bidden her ^Tait, and havo patience wilh herself and hor life, till this cloud passed by — this lifjfht cloud of her summer mom- inf^, that was only mi.-;t to make the rising day more beauti- ful, and not the sign of storm and loss, as it looked to her young, alTrighted oyos. But this sho could not do. Even with certain knowledge of the troul)k'S which she only guessed, sho Icnow it would be vain to come to hor with tender, pitying words, a?id wor"b than vain to try to prove that uc^thuig had happened to her, or was like to happen, that could make tho breaking up of her old life, and the beginning of a now one, a thii^ig to bo Ihought of bv herself or those ulio loved her. So, after a few stitches carefully taken, for all her sister could see, sho said, " And, then, there are so few thiugrs that a woman can do." The words brought back so vividly that night in the dark, when she had said them out of a sore heart to her fiiend, that her work fell on her lap again, and she met her sister's eve with a look that Rose could not imderstand. • iff ; t h^' 1 ,<,i 516 JiVl(KTri LOVE A.M» .-"liliVKJE. ** You are not tliiiikin^ of wliat I have been sa}ing. "Why do you look nt me iii tLat straiip^c way?" r:rtid slio, pettishly. "I am thiiildii;^' of it, imlccd. And I did not know that I Av;is lo(jlcii)^' any other than my usual v.ay. I was saying to myself, * lias the poor child got to go through all that for herself, as I have done V Oh ! Kosie, dear ! if I eould only give you the benetit of all my vexed thoughts on that very subject !" " AVell, why not ? That is just what I want. Only, don't be.L',in in that discouragin'^ wav, about there being so few thing's :i vroman can do. I know all that, alread}'." " AVe might go to Norm m for awhile together, at any rate," said Graeme, feeling how impossible it would l)c to satisfy one another by what might l:>e said, since all could not be spoken between them. "Yes. That is just what I said, at first. And we could see about it there. We could much more easily make our plans, and carry them out there, than here. And, in the meantime, we could lind plenty to do in Hilda's hou^o with the children and all the rest. I wish we could go soon." And then she went o^•er what she had often gone over be- fore, the way of life in their brother Norn)aii's house — Hilda's housekeeping, and her way with her children, and in society, and so on, Grae^ne asking questions, and making remarks, in the hope that the conversation might iiot, for this time, •omo back to the vexed question, of what women may do in the ^vorld. It gTew dark in the meantime, but they wero waiting for Harry and letters, and made no movement ; and, by and by, Rose said, suddenly: " I aril siu*e vou used to think about all this, Graeme — about womaii's work, and how stupid it is to h\e on in this way, ' waiting at the pool,' as Hannah Lovejoy used to say. I declare, it is undignitied, and puts thoughts mto peo[)le's heads, as though . It would be different, if v>e were n\ing in our father's house, or, even, if ^-e ha'l n)noy of our own. You used to think so, yourself, Graei;ie. A\'hy should Arthur and Harry do everything for us?" JANKT 8 I,0VP: AND SKRVICE. 617 ■'J m lid, LV. [11. rar pose, "No ** Yes, I remember. ^Vllen raiiny first came, I think I had as many thou;^'hts about all this as you have now. I ivas very restless, and discontented, and determined to go away. I talked to Janet about it one night." " And she convinced you that you were all wrong, I su|> said Rose. " And vou were content ever after." I don't think she helped me much, at the time. But her gi'eat doctrine of patience and quiet waiting, and cir- cumstances together, convinced mo, afterward, that I did not need to go in search of my work, as seemed to me then the thing to do. I found it ready at my hand, though I could not see it then. Her wisdom was higher than mine. Sho said that out of it aU would come content, and so it has," " That was not saying much !" said Roso. "No. It did not seem to me much, when she said it. But she was right, all the same, and I Wiis wrong. And it has all happened much better than if I had got my own way." *' But, Graeme, all that would not apply in the case of women, generally. That is begging the (juestion, as Harry would say." " But I am not speaking of women in general ; I am speak- ing about myself, and my own ^vork ; and I say Janet was wise, though I was far from thinkmg it that night, as I mind well.'* There was a pause, and then Rose said, in a low voice. *' It may have been right for you to stay at liome then, and care for the rest of us, but it would l)e quite different now, with me, and I thmk with you, too.- And how many women have to go and make a way of life for themselves. And it is right tliat it should be so ; and (jraemo, we niiglit try." Instead of answering her threctly, Clraeme said, after a lit- tle while, "Did I ever tell you Rose, dear, about that night, and all that Janet said to inc '? I told Ik r 1k)v/ I wished to get out of my useless, unsatisfactory life, jut as you have l;eeii telling me. Did I ever tell you all she said to me V I don't think I ever chd. I felt then, ju^jt as yuu do novr. I tliiiik T canun- derstand your feeling, better than you suppose ; and I 0})en- ill 518 JANET S LOVE MiTD SERVICE. eel my heaii to Janet — I mean, I told her how sick I was of it all, and how good-for-nothing I felt myself to be, and how it all might be changed, if only I could find real work to do " And Graeme went on to tell much that had been said be- tween them that night, about woman's work, and about old maids, and a Uttle about the propriety of not setting one's face against the manifest lot of woman ; and when she came to this part of it, she spoke with, an attempt at playfulness, mc:int to cover, f^ little, the earnestness of all that went be- fore. But neither in this nor in the rest, did she npeak as though she meant Rose to take the lesson to herself, or as though it meant veiy much to either of them now ; but rather implied by her words and maimer, and by many a pathetic touch here and there, that she was dwelling on it as a pleasant reminiscence of the dear old friend, whose quaint sayings were household words among them, becaur i of their wisdom, and because of the honor and the love thev gave her. Her earnestness increased, as, by and by, she saw the impatience pass out f her sisters face and manner ; and it never came into her iiiijid that she was turning back a i>age in her own experience, over ^vhich Rose had long ago pondered with wonder and sadness. " I could not make Janet see the necessit""' that seemed so clear to me," she went on. " I could not make her muler- stand, or, at least, I thought she coiild not understand, for she spoke as though she thought that Fanny's coming, and those old vexations, made me wish to get away, and it was not easy to answer her when she said that my impatience and restlessness would all pass away, and that I must fulfill papa's last wish, and stay with the rest. I thought the time had come when the necessity for that was over, and that another way would be better for me, certainly ; and I thought for Ai'thur and Fanny, too, and for you, Rosie. But, Oh ! how much wiser Janet was than I, that night. But I did not think so at the time. I was wild to be set free from the present, and to have my own will and go away. It was ^^ell that circumstances Janet's love and beevice. 519 ir le re were too fltrong for mo. It has como tnie, as Janet said. I think it is bettor for us all that I have been at home all these years. Fanny and I have done each other good. It has been better for us all." She paused a moment, and then added, " Of course, if it had been necessary that I should go out into the world, and make my own way, I might have done as others have done, and won, at least, a measui'e of success. And so we might still, you and I together. Rose, if it were necessaiy, but that makes all the difference. There is no quo>j- tion of necessity for us, dear, at present, and as for God's work, and work for our feUow creatures, we can find that at home. Without separating from the others, I mean." But Rose's face clouded again. " There need be no question of separating fi'om the others, Graeme. Norman is out there, and there arc himdreds of women who have their own place and work in the world, who have not been driven by necessity to look for them — tlio necessity of making a living, I mean. There arc other neces- sities that a woman must feel — some more than others, I suppose. It is an idle, foolish, vain hfe that I am h\ing. I know that I have not enough to fill my life, Graeme. I know it, though I don't suppose I can make you understand it. 1 am past the age now to care for being petted, and amused, and made much of by the rest of you. I mean, I am too old now to feel that enough for my satisfaction. It is different with you, who really are good for something, and who have done so much for Ai'thiu' and Fanny, and us all. And, be- sides, as you say, you are content ; but as for me — oh ! I know iliere is no use talking. I could never make you under- stand. There, I don't want to be naughty, and vex you — and wo will say no more to-night. Shn?! I get a light ? " She stooped over her sister, and kissed her, and Graeme, putting her arms round her, said softly, " Only one word more Rosie. I think I can understand you better than you beheve, as Janet understood me tliat night, though I did not see it then, and you must just let me 80 620 JA^^Et's love A^'D SEKVICE. s say ono tliinf^. My daiiing", I believe all tliat is troubling you, now, -^N'ill pass away ; but, if I am v. rong, and if it be best Miat you have your own way about tliis work of yours — I mean, if it is nglit — circumstances will an-ange themselves to that end, and it will all come easj' for you, and me, too. Wo shall keep together, at any rate, and I am not afraid. And, love, a year or two does make a difference in people's feelings about tilings, though there is no good in my saying it to you, now, I know. But we will wait till WiU. comes home. We must bo here to welcome him, even if his coming should be delayed longer than we hope now. I don't like to think of any plan for you and me, out of which WiU. must be left And KO many things may happen before a year is over. I remember how restless and troubled I was at that time. T don't like to tliink of it even now — and it is all past — quite past. And we will stay together, whatever happens, if wo can, and, darling, you must have patience." All this was said with many a caressing jDause between, and then Rose imd, •Well — yes — I suppose we must wait for WiU." But she did not say it cheei-fuUy, and Graeme w^nt en, after a Utile : " And, dear, I have noticed more than once in my life that when a quiet time Uke this has come, it has come as a time of preparation for work of some sort ; for the domg, or tho beaiing of God's ^^iU in some peculiar way ; and we must not lose the good of these quiet days by being anxious about the futiu'e, or regi-etful over the past. It wiU all come right, love, you may be sure of that." Tho last words were spoken hastily, for HaiTy's voice was heard, and Eosc went softly out at one door, as he came in at the other ; and when, in a little, he called from the foot of tho stairs, as ho always did, when ho did not find her in tho parlor, she came down, affecting sui-priso. " So you are hero at last, Han-y ? Are there any letters tonight ? " Yes, tbci'G woro lotlcrg. "Hany had rrad bis, nnd gavo JANET'S LOVE AND BERVIOK. 521 re, I'Q fchem the news with a littlo gnimbling, while tlio gas wag be- ing lighted. His friend and partner ycenied intent on mak- ing the most of his long delayed hohday, and wiis goin£^ to lengthen it a Httle, by taking a nm to Pari.si, perhaps evon to Rome. "With whom do you think, Graeme?" added ho, his fncM dealing up suddenly. "With his brother Allan, and cir Will. Won't they help one another to have a good li'iio ? Charhe takes it quite coolly, howevoi", I uuist sny. It wr.s iiu even chance, at one time, whether ho woidd go at qH, ar.d now, there is no telling w^hen he will be buck ac^ain. VwA is always the way. I wonder when I shall have my hoU ]:ty ? *The willing horse,' you know, Rocie." "It is very hard on you, Hany, dear. Xl^t I fancied you had a httle trip yourself, lately, and enjoyed it, too. Was that in the interest of your friend ? " "Hem! Yes — indirectly. I did eijoy it. Funny says she has had a veiy pleasant summer ; and, if you are goir.g down at all, Rosie, it is time you -were going. They sccin to have a very nice set of people there. I thinlr if you vrcro to go at once, I would take a rim do\\ii with you — next ^veek, perhaps. I think you would enjoy it." " I thank you, Hany, dear. But, you know, Fanny's taste and mine are different. I don't always fancy her pleasant people. And I should not think of taking you away on my accoimt." " Not at all. I shall go, at any rate. But I want you to go, Rosie, for a reason I have. And I promi:su you won't regret it. I wish Graeme would go, too." " It would be charming if we could all go together," said Rose. "But it would ))e hardly worth while, ^ve could niak? BO short a stay, now." " I enjoyed it veiy much," said Harr}'. " One gets to know people so much better in such a place, and I am sure ycu would hke the Roxburjs, Rosie, if }0U would only take puina to know them." "Hydenr HairvM think what you aro saying! Wo.Od 522 .'ANEt's love and SEliVICK. they talio pains to know me? Thojaro Funny's nice pcoj)!©, nre they? Yes, I suppose so. However, I don't believe vhacme will care to go." ^Ti'aenic uttered an exelamatiou over her letter. " It is from IMr. Snow," said she, with a pale face. " i3ad news ? " asked Hi'rry. It was bad news, indeed. It told, in IVIr. Snow's biief wa}', that, within a few days, the illness, from which his wife had been Rufleriug for some time, had taken a dangerous tui'ii.. rendering an opt.'ration ncccssaiy ; and the letter was sent to prepare them for a possible fatal result. " It gives her a chance, and that is aU the doctc 'S will say. She says it will be all right whichever way it turns. God blcBS you all. Emily will tell you more." '"HtuTy," said Graeme, as he laid down the letter. "1 must go to Janet." "It would be a comfort to her if you could," said Harry, gravely. "And to me," said (jlracme. "I shall go early to-morrow." There was not much more said about it. There was a little discussion about the trahis, and the best way to take, and then Harry went away. Hose had not spoken a word while he was there, but the moment the door closed after him, she said, softly, " ilarry does not think that I am going ; but, dear, you promised tliat, whatever happened, we should keep together. And, Graeme, the quiet time has been to prepare j^ou for this ; and wo are s'orcit will all be right, as Janet says. You %vill let me go with you, Graeme ?' she pleaded ; " you will never go and leave me here ?" So whatever Harry thought, Graeme could do nothing but yield, and the next morning the sisters were speeding south- ward, with fear in their hearts, but with peace and hope in them, also ; for they knew, and they said to one another many times that day, th&t the words of thcii* dear old fi'iend would come time, and that in whatever way the ti'ouble that Lad fallen on her might end, it would be for her all well. T* 0. o Xi !0 VL \1 MKS. ssnw l.i)()KS IK r ON UIa I.ANDSCAI'K CIl Al»'J KR XLI. SEPTJ'jMBEII was nearly over ; tliore v/oi't) tolioiis of 11 ;o (•()iuiii<^ Autmnn on tlio liills inid v;i]]cvs of IMorlt.^villc, l)ut tli<> (1:iy wiiH like a day in tlio prime oi" suiuiuci', and tiu! air that camo in tlu'()U;^'li tluiopon wiiKlows of iho k.miUi roOii» fell on Mi'M Snow's palo cliooks as mild andl)al!i)y a.s a breeze of Juno. The wood-covered hills were unfaded R!il], and l)eantifal, thon^-h here and there a crimson b:nincr wmw;.!, or a pillar of gold rose up amid the {^"eenncss. Ov'-r ainojipf the vallcy.s, were sudden, shifting sp:Lrld(i-; from h.ili-'iidden brooks, and the pond gleamed in the sunshine without, a cloud to dim its briglitness. In the broken fields that slo )cd t.v wards it, and in the narrow meadows that skirted thah part c^f the Merle river which (!Ould Ije seen, there were tokens of iifo and busy labor — dark stretches of newly-turned mould alter- nating with the green of the pastures, or the; bleached stubblo of the recent han'cst. There were ghmps(>s of the w'.iifo houses of the village through the treej^, and, ni)w and tho!i, a traveller passed slowly along the winding road, but there Wiis nothing far or near to disturb the sweet quiet of the r.TAn now so familiar and so dear, and Mrs. Snow gazed out upon it with a sense of peace and rest at her heart which showed in her quiet face and in her folded hands. It showed in IMr. Snow's face, too, as he glanced now and then over the edge of the newspaper he was holding in hi;3 hand. He was reading, and she was supposed to be list^'ivi'i• kind of pleasant." There v/as nothing more said for a long time. Many TTords were not needed between these tv/o by this time. They l.Ti/I been parss^ing through weeks of sore trial ; the shadow c^ dcrili had seemed to be darkening over them, and, worse to bonr even thaii tl\o ])rospect of death, had been the suffer- ing \\-liich had brDught it near. Worse for her, f(3r she had drawn very near to the unseen world — so near that the glory had been visible, and it had cost her a stiniggle to be A^illing Iv) come back again ; and worse for him, too, whoso heart liad grown sick at the sight of the clow, wealing pain, grow- ing sliaii)er eveiy day. But that was past now. Veiy slowly, but still siu'ely, health was coming back to the invalid, and the rest fi'om lon^';' pain, and the consciousness of returning strength, were imiliing the bright day and the fair scene more beautiful to her. As for him, ho could only look at her with thankful " I never saw this bonny place bonnier than it is to-day, and GO sweet, and quiet, and homelike. Wo hve in a fair world, and, on a day like this, one is ready to forget that there ia Bin or trouble in it." "It is good to see you sitting there," said Mr. Snow, for answer. " Well, I am content to be sitting here. I doubt I shall do little else for the rest of my life. I must be a useless body, I'm afraid,'" added she, with a sigh. ]^L^ Snow smiled. JANKT b LOVi: AM) SKUVICi: 625 "You know hotter tliau that," Haiti he. " T (l)u't Rnp])oriO it Kooms imich to you to get hack a,',^iuii ; l)iit it Ls a gi-oat deal for the rest of us to have you, if it is only to look at." "I am content to hide my time, useless or useful, as tible, from day to day, she came l)ack to a knowledge of their loving care, and took up the burden of her life again. Not joj-fully, perhaps, having been so near to the attauiiug of heavenly joy, but still with patience and content, wilhng to abide God's time. After that the days foll(3wed one another quietly and happily, with little to break the pleasant monotony beyond the occasional ^^sits of the noighl)ors fi-om the village, or the coming of letters ffom home. To Graeme it was a very peaceful time. "Watchhig her fi'om day to day, her old fi'iend could not but see that she was content with her life and its work, now ; that whatever the shadov; had been which had fallen on her earlier days, it had passed away, lea\Tng aroiuid her, not the brightness of her youth, but a milder and more T-m' JANETS LOVK A^'D Si-IiVICE. 629 enduring radiance. Graeme was, in Janet's oyo??, jnst wliat the daughter of her father and mother ought to he. If slio could have wished anything changed, ifc wouhl have been in her circumstances, not in herself. She was not satisfied tbat to her should be denied the higher happiness of bcir.g in q home of her own — the fii'st and dearest to some one yroiihy of her love. " And yet who knows ? " said she to herself. " One can never tell in which road true happiness lies ; and it is not for me, who can see only a little way, to wish for anything that God has not given her. ' A contented mhid is a continual feast,' says the Bock. She harj that. And ' Blessed ai*e tho meek, and tho merciful, and the pure in heart.' "What would i have ? I '11 make no plo.iis, and I'll make no wii+hes. It is all in good handi^ and there is nothing to fear for her, I am Biire of that. As for her sister . AVell, I suppose there Trill aye be something in the lot of those we love to make us mindful that they need better helx^ than ours. And it is too fcir on in tho day for me to doubt that good guidance will come to her as to the rest." Still, after her husband's words, Mrs. Snow regarded Rose's movements with an earnestness that she was not quito willing to acknowledge even to herself. It was rather unrea- sonable of him, she thought at fii'st, to be otherwise than content with the young girl in her new sedateness. She was not quite so merry and idle as during her last visit ; but that w^as not suiTirising, seeing she was older and wiser, and more sensible of the responsibihties that life brings to all. It was natural that it shoiild be so, and well that it should be so. It was matter for thankfuhiess that the years were bringing her wisdom, and that, looking on hfe with serious eyes, she would not expect too much from it, nor bo so bitterly chsajv pointed at its inevitable failures. She was quieter and graver, but surely no fault was to be foimd with tliat, seeing there har'. been sickness and anxiety in the house. She was cheerful and busy too, IVIrs. Snow saw, accomplish- ing wonderful things in the way of learning to do housework, < ' 1 530 JAN1:T ri LOVE AND SKRVICE. and daily work, midcr the direction of Hannah, and comport- ing herself generally in a ^^•ay that was winning the good opinion of that experienced and rather exacting honselieeper. She took great interest in out-of-door afifairs, going daily with the deacon to tlie high sheep pasture, or to the clearing be- yond the swamp, or wherever else his oversight of farming matters led him, which ought to have contented Mr. Snow, his wife thought, and which might have done so if he had l^een quite sure that her heart was in it all. By and by ]\Irs. Snow wearied a little for the mirthfulness and laughter that had sometimes needed to be gently checked during her former visit. More than once, too, she fancied fihe saw a wistful look in Graeme's eyes as they followed her sister's movements, and she had much ado to keep from troub- ling herself about them both. They were sitting one day together in the south room which looked out over the garden and the orchard and the pond beyond. Rose was in the garden, walking hstlessly up and down the long paths between the flower-beds, and Mrs. Snow, as she watched her, wondered witlun herself whether this would be a good time to speak to Graeme about her sister. Before she had time to decide, however, they were startled by Hannah's voice coming round the corner — " Eose," it said, " hachi't you just as leives do your walking right straight ahead ? 'Cause, if you had, you might take a pitcher and go over to Emily's and borrow some yeast. I don't calculate, as a general thing, to get out of yeast, or any thing else, but the cat 's been and keeled the jug right down, and spilled the last drop, and I want a little to set some more to lising." "Hannah," said Hose, with a penitent face, "I am afraid it was my fault. I left the jug on the corner of the shelf, m- Btead of putting it away as I ought. I am very sorry." "Well, I thought pretty likely it might be you, seeing it wasn't me," said Hannah, giimly. " That jug has held the yeast in this house since Grandma Snow's time, and now it 's broke to forty pieces." won milk. I'd a hous( pnly and ( took. Roi "O and tl presei: nah h; jug in and g( "It was yo no grej "Ani that m( a walk "Yoi stay wit Graeme "And mother is no do "Is ai her with ment's s; " Ti'on there is i you thill "Myc the look words— a V^ V ■. i^MMHi n.' JAJiET S LOVE AND SEUVICE. 631 I m, )ro lid lin- it Ihe 's " Oil, I am so soiTV !" saitl lloso. " Well, I giiesR it don't matter a gi'cat siglit. Nobody will woiTj about it, if / don't, and it 's no use cr;y'ing over spilt milk. But I guess you'd better tell "J'hnily how it happened. I'd a little rather what boiTowing there is between the two houses should be on t'other side. I wouldn't have asked you, pnly I thought you'd rather go than not. That walking uj) and down is about as shiftless a business as ever you under took. But don't you go if you don't want to." Rose shrugged her shoulders. "Oh! I'll go, and I'll tell IVIi's. Nasmyth how it happened,! and that it was my fault and the cat's. Mrs. Snow," said she, presenting herself at the w indow, •* did you hear what Han- nah has been saying ? I have broken Grandma Snow's yeast jug into forty pieces, and I am to go and confess to Emily, and get some yeast." *' I thought it was the cat that did it ; though, doubtless, it •was your fault not putting it in its place. However, there is no great hann done, so that you got more yeast to Hannah." " And let Emily know that it is my fault and not Hannah's that more yeast is needed. Graeme, will you come and have a walk this bonny day ?"' "You can go and d(3 Hannah's ciTand, now, and I will stay with IMrs. Snow, and we will walk together later," said Graeme. " And you might brhig wee Rosio homo with you, if her mother will spare her, .and if she wa^ts to come. But thcra is no doubt of her wishing to come wiili you." "Is anything the matter with yoiu: sister, that you follow her with such troubled e'en?" asked 'Mra. Snow, aftei a mo- ment's silence. "Troubled e'en!" rejieated Graeme. "No, I don't llmik there is anything the matter with her. Do you ? "Why should you thmk there is anything the matter with her, Janet?" " My dear, I was only askhig you ; and it was because of the look that you sent aflxjr her — a look that contrauiets your ^oi'ds—a thing that docsna often happen with you, be it said." 532 Janet's love /nd skbvice. " Did 1 look troubled ? I don't think there is any reason for it on Rosie's account — any that can be told. I mean I can only guess at any cause of trouble she may have. Just for a minute, now and then, I have felt a little anxious, per- haps ; but it is not at all because I think there is anything seriously wi'ong with Rosie, or indeed anything that will not do her good rather than harm. But oh, Janet ! it is sad that we cannot keep all trouble away from those we love." " I caima agree with you, my dear. It would be ill done to keep anything from her that will do her good and not evil, as you say yourself. But well or ill, you canna do it, and it is foolish and wrong of you to vex yoiu'self moie than is needful." " But I do not, indeed. Just now it was her restless, aim- loss walking up and down that vexed me. I am foolish, I suppose, but it always does." " I daresay it may tell of an uneasy mind, Avhiles," said Mrs. Snow, gi-avel}'. "I mind you used to be given to it your- self in the old times, when you werena at ease with yourself. But if you don't like it in yoiur sister, you should encoui'age her to employ herself in a j^urpose-like manner." " Hannah has done it for me this time — I am not sure> however." For Rosie was standing still at the gate looking away down the hill towards the village, " thinking her o^vn thoughts, doubtless," Graeme said to herself. " She 's waiting for some one, maybo. I daresay Sandy has sent some one down to the village for the i)apers, as thia is the day they mostly come." " Miss Graeme, my dear," continued Mrs. Snow, in a httle, " it is time you were thinking of overtaking all the visiting you'll be expected to do, now that I am better. It will be a ^•lliIo before you'll get over all tlie places where they will expect to see you, for nobody will hkc to be overlooked." "Oh, I don't Imow!" said Graeme. "It is not just like last time, when "we were strangers and new to the i^eople. And we have seen almost everybody ah*eady. And I like this quiet titno much best." heart JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. 533 tie, ike )le. "But, my ciccr, it is too lafe to begin to think fii'st of jour own likes and ciialikes now. And it will bo good for Roaie, and you mustna tell me that you are losing interest in your Merleville friends, dear ! That would bo ungrateful, "whon they all have so warm an interest in you." " No, indeed ! I have not lost interest in my MerleviUis friends. There will never be any place just like Merleville to mo. Our old life hero alwaj's coinos back to mo like a happy, hai:)py dream. I can hardly remember any trouljlc:} that came to us all those seven years, Janet — till the very end." "My dear, you had your troubles, plenty of them, or yoa thought you had ; but the golden gleam of youth lies on your thoughts of that time, now. There was tlio going away of the lads, for one tiling. I mind weU you thoaght those partings hard to bear." " Yes, I remember," said Graeme, gravely, " but even then we hoped to meet again, and life lay before us all ; and noth- ing had happened to make us afraid." " My dear, nothing has happened yet that need make you afraid. If you mean for llosie, she must have her share of the small tribulations that fall to the lot of most women, at cno time or other of their Uves ; but she is of a cheerful nature, and not easily daimted ; and dear, ijou have come safely over rougher bits of road than any that aro like to he before her, and she aye will have you to guide her. And looking at you, love, and knowing that the 'great peace,' the Book speaks about, is in your heart and in your life, I have no fear for yoiu: sister, after all that has come and gone to you." Graeme leaned back in her chaii*, silent for a moment, then she said, gently, *' I am not afi-aid. I cannot think what I have said, Janet, to make you think I am afraid for Eosio." " INIy dear, you have said nothing. It was the w istful look in yoiu" e'en that made me speak to you about her. And bo- Bides, I have noticed Rosio myself. She is not so light of heart as she used to bo. It may bo the anxious timo you if 584 Janet's love a..d service. i have had with me, or it may bo tho added yeai'S, or it may bo Bomethiiig thai it may bo wiHor for you and me not to seem to see. But whatever it is, I am not afraid for Rose. I am only afi'aid that you may vex yoiu-sell aoout her, when there is no need. There can Ijo no good hi that, you know well." "But I am not vexing myself, Janet, indeed. I will tell you v.hat I know about it. Do ycu mind that restless fit tiiat was on me long ago, when you came to sgo us, and how it seemed to mo that I nniHt go away ? Well, Hose has come to tho same place in her life, and she would like to have work, real work to do in tho world, and sl'.c has got impatient of her useless life, as sho calls it. It has come on her sooner than it came on me, but that is because the circiunstances are different, I suppose, and I hope it may pass away. For, oh ! Janet, I shrink fi'om tho struggle, and the going away fi'om them all ; and I ha^ o got to that time when one grows con- tent with just tho littlo things that come to one's hand to do, seeuig they are sent by God, as well as nobler work. But it is not so with Rose, and oven if this weai's over, as it did with mo, there are weary days before her ; and no wonder, Janet, that I follow her with anxious eyes." There was no more said for a moment. They were both watching Koso, who still stood at the gate, shading her eyes, and looking down tho hill. " She doosna look like one that has much tho matter ^vith her," said Mrs. Snow. "Miss Graeme, my dear, do you ken what ails yoiu* sister ? Why has this feverish wish to be away and at work come upon her so suddenly, if it is a question that I ought to ask ? " "Janet, I cannot tell you. I do not know. I can but guess at it myself, and I may bo all wrong. And I think, perhaps, the best help we can give her, is not to seem to see, as you said a httle ago. Sometimes I have thought it might all be set right, if Rose would only speak ; but one can never be sm'o, and I think, Janet, wo can only wait and see. I do n't believe there ia much cause for feai', if only Rose will have patience." .lANET'fe LOVE AUD S LEV ICE. 535 'Then, wherefore should you look so troubled ? Nothing but ^Yrong-cloing on yoiu* sister's part should make you look like that." For there were tears in Graeme's eyes as she watched her sister, and she looked both anxious and afraid. ** Wrong-douig," repeated she, with a start. Then she roso impatiently, but suo down again in a moment. Was it " wrong- douig" in a woman to let her heart slip imawares and unasked from her own keeping ? If this was indeed the thing that had ha2)pened to Rose? Or was it "wrong-doing" to come to the knowledge of one's heart too late, as Harry had once hinted might be the end of llosie's foolish love of iidmiration ? " Wrong-doing," she repeated agam, with a sudden slir of indignation at her heart. " No, that nuist never be said of Rose. It nmst be one of the small tribulations that sooner or later fall to the lot of most women, as you sjiid } ourself, Janet, a little ago. And it won't do to diseuss it, anyway. See, Roso has opened the gate for some one. Who is comuig in ? " "My dciu:," liaid liih'H. Snow, gravely, "it was far from my thought to wish to know about anything that I should not. It hi Sandy she is oi)ei:ing the gate for, and wee Rosie. Ho has been down for the papers, it seems, and he may have gotten letters as well." "But, Janet," said Graeme, eagerly, "you know I could not mean that. I could not tell you if I were ever so will- ing. I do not know. I can only guess ; but as for " wrong- doing — " " My dear, you necdna tell me that. Sandy, man, it must seem a strange like thing to the folk in the village to see you caiTying the child that way on your horse before you — you that have wagons of one kind or another, and plenty of them, at your dispvjsah Is it safe for the bairn, think y(^u ? Do you like that way of riduig, my w ee Rosie ? " "Yes, gamma, I 'ike it," lis^x^d the two yeai's old Rosie, Bmihng brightly. " It is safe enough, mother, you may be sm'e of that. And as for what the village folk may think, that 's a new thing for you to ask. It is the best and pleasantest way in the world M I 53b jaxkt's love and servicth for both Ro.sic ami me." And looking at tho ^ayjud, yonug fciUn r and the lifippy child sitting before hiii*., ;t was not to be for a moment doubted. " It must bo dehghtfiil," said Rose, laughing. "I should like a ride myself, wee Rosie." " iVnd why not ? " said Mrs. Snow. " Sandy, man, it is a wonder to mo that you havena thought "bout it before. Have you your habit here, my dear? Why o^iould you no* brhig yoiuig Major or Dandy over, saddled for Miss Rose ? It U'ould do hor all the good in the vorkl to ^vwt a gallop in o day Vke this." " There is no reason in tL , \\ ovl why I should not, if Miss Rose would like it." " I would like it very much. Not tliab I need the good of it especially, but I shall enjoy the pleasure of it. And will you let wee Rosie come with me." "Ji gi'audma has no objections," said Sandy, laughing. *'I>ut it must be old Major, if yoii take her." "Did ever any body hear such nonsense? " said Mrs. Snow, impatiently. " But 3'ou '11 need to haste, Sandy, man, or we ishall be having visitors, and then she winna get away." " Yes, I should not wonder. I saw Mr. I*erry coming up the way with a book in his hand. But I could bring young IMajor and Dandy too, and Miss Rose needn 't be kept at home then." Rose laughed merrily. '* Who? The minister ? Oh! fie, Sandy man, you shouldna speak such nonsense. Wee Rosie, are }0u no' going to stay the day with Miss Graeme and me ? " said INIi's. Snow. Graeme held up her arms for the httle girl, but she did not oli'cr to move. " Will you bide with grannie, wee Rosie ? " asked her father, pulling l)ack her sun-bonnet, and letting a mass of tangled, yellow curls fall over her rosy face. " Tum adain Grannie," said the little girl, gravely. She was too well pleased with her place to wish to leave it. Her father laughed. ■■UHMi JANET 8 LOVE AND SEIiVICE. 537 "Sho shall como wlion I hnua: over Daiulv for ^ris.s Tloso. In tho iiicantimo, I have soinotliiiiL,' for roiuo oho here." "Letters," said Graeme and llose, in a breath. " One a piece. Good news, I hope. I shall soon be back again, Miss Rose, with Dandy." Graeme's lettor was from AVill., written after liaviiipf hoard of his sisters' beir^r in Merlcville, before he had heard of Mi'8. Snow's recoverv. lie had thoujjfht once of comin'' homo with Mr. Millar, ho said, but had changed his plans, i)artly because he wished to accept an invitation ho had received fi*om his irnclo in tho north, and partly for other reasons. lie was staying at present with INIrs Millar, who was " one of a thousand," wrote Will., with enthusiasnij "and, indeec. iO ."-: her son, Mr. Ruthven, but you know Allan, of old. A^ "' th a he went on to other things. Graeme read tho lettor first herself, and then to !Mrs. "! iow and Rose. In tho midst of it Mr. Snow came in. "^ose had read hcr's, Init held it in her hand still, even after a y had ceased to discuss "Will. 's. "It is fi'om Fanny" said sho, at last. "You can read it to Mrs. Snow, if you like, Graeme. It is all about baby and his perfections, or nearly all. 1 will go and put on my habit for my rido. Uncle Siuupson como with mo, won't you ? Have you anything pai*tioulav to do to-day ? " " To ride ? " said Mr Snow. " I 'd as liove go as not, and a little rather — if you '11 promise to take it moderate. I should like the chaise full bettor than the saddle, I gness, though." Rose laughed. " I will promise to lot yvi jiake it moderate. I am not afraid to go alone, if you don't want to ride. But I slionld n't fancy the chaise to-day. A good gallop is just what I want, I think." She went to prepare for her rido, and (iraemo road l^"'anny's letter. It was, as Rose had said, a record of her darUng'a pretty sayings and doings, and gentle regrets that his aunts could not have the happiness of being at homo to watch his ifr 638 JAUEl B LOVE AND SEliVlOfi. daily growth in wiHdom and betuity. Then there were a few words at the end. " Harry iH i)roporly indignant, as we all arc, at your hint that you may kco Norrnan and Hilda, before you see homo again. Hairy says it is quite absurd to speak of such a tiling, but we have seen veiy littlo of him of late. I hope we may B je more of him now that '• his friend and partner" has re- tiurncd. Ho has been quite too nuich taken up with his httle xVmy, to think of us. However, I promised Mr. Millar I would say nothing of that, bit of news. Ho must tell you about it himself. He has a great deal of Scottish news, but I should only spoil it by trying to tell it ; and I think it is quite possible tliat Hurry may fultill his threat, and come for you himself, lint I suppose ho will give you fail* warning," and BO on. Graeme closed the letter, saving nothing. "It is not just very clear, I think," said IVIi's. Snow. ** Is it not ? " said Graeme. " I did not notice. Of course, it is all nonsense about Harry commg to take us home." " And who is httle Miss Amy, that she speaks of? Is she a friend of yoiu* brother Harry ? Or is she jMr. Millar's friend ? Miu Ai'tlnu: doesna seem to make it clear ? " "■jSIiss Amy Roxbui'y," said Graeme, opening her letter agoui. " Docs she not make it plam ? Oh, well ! we shall hear more about it, she says. I suj^pose Harry has got back his old fancy, that we are to go and live Avith him if Mr. Millar goes elsewhere. Indeed, I don't understand it myself ; but wo shall hoar more soon I daresay. Ah I hera is Il,.sie." *'^\jid here is Dandy," said Kosc, coming in with her habit on. " And here is wee Rosie come to keej) you com- pany while I am away, ibid here is Mr. Snow, on old Major. Don't expect us homo till night. We shall have a lay of it, shall we not ? " '0' They had a very quiet day at home. "Wee Rosie came and went, and told her little tales to the content of her gi'and- xnothor and Graeme, who made much of the httle gu-1, as JANKTS I.OVK AND SKUA'ICK. 630 may well be RuppoHod. She was a bonny little oroatiiro ; with li«u' father's blue eyes and fail* curls, and Hhowinyins to look a little liko getting well, now, don't it?" "I liopo nothing lia« happened," auid lloso, a little anxiouHly. "I gnoss not — nothing to fret over. Tier f:i"o don't look like it. Well, mother, you feel pretty smart to-night, (lout you ? You look first-rate." •'1 am just as usual," said Mrs. Snow, quietly. "But what has kept you so long? Wo were beginning to wonder about you." "Has anything hajipniuul?" said Roho, looking over INIra. Snow's head, at a little crowd of people coming out at tlio door. " We have visitors, that is all. The minister is here, and a fiicnd of your's — your brother Harry's jmrtner. He haa brought nev>'s — not bad news, at least ho doesna seem to tliink so, nor jNIiss Oi-aeme. I have hardly heard it myself, yet, or seen the yomig man, for I was tired and had to Ho, dowii. But YOU '11 hear it yourself in due time." •' Rose reined lier horse aside. "Tako eare, dear," said "Mih. Snow, as she spning to tho groiuid without assistance. "There is no need for such haste. You might have waited for Sandy or some one to help you, I think." "What is it, Graeme?" said Rose, for her sister looked flushed and excited, and there wore traces of tears on her %i JklXEIA LOVE AND bEUVICE. 541 ebooks she wag hiito. But hIio (lid not look nnxious — cc^ toinly not iinlmp|)y. "UobIo, (loar, Charlie has como." " Oh ! Charlie has conic, has he; ? That is it, is it ? " .said lloHO, with a Ion;,' breath. Yes, there was Mr. Millar, ofTerin;^' his hand and siiiiliii'jf — " exactly hke hiniself,' Hoho thoii^^lit, but nhc could not tell very well, for her eyes were da/zled with the red li^dit of the settmg sun. But nhe was very ^hid to see him, she toKl him; and she told the minister she was wvy ^hxd to see /a'//i, too, in the veiy same tone, the next miinite. There was notnuich time to say anything, however, for Hannah — whoso patii-nco had been tried by the delay — announced that tea was on tho table, in a tone quite too perenii)tory to be tiilled with. " Rose, you are tired I am sui'c. Never mind takiuf,' off your habit till after tea." Rose confessed h(;rself tired after her lon«? and rapid rido. " For I left Mr. Snow at Major Spring's, and went on a long way by myself, and it is just ])ossi))le, that, after all, you aro right, and I have gone too far for tho fii'st lido ; for see, I am a little shaky," added she, as tho teacup she passed to Ml*. Snow tremljled in her hand. Then she asked Mr. Millar about the news ho had brouglit them, and whether all were well, and a question or two bo- sides ; and then she gave herself up to the pleasui'c of lis Idl- ing to tho conversation of the minister, and it came into Graeme's mind that if Harry had been there he would liavo said she was anmsiug herself with a httlo serious Ihrtulioii. Graeme did not think so, or, if she did, it did not make her angiy as it would have made llan-y ; for though she said Uttle, except to the '^vaxo wee Ivosie Nasmyth, whom she had taken under her care, she looked very bright and glad. Boso looked at her once or twice, a little startled, and after a while, in watching her, evidently lost the tlu'cad of the minister's entertaining discoui'se, and answered him at random. "I have a note from Haii-y," said Graeme, aa they left th© 542 JANETS L'»VK AND SEKVICr. foa-tMblo. " Iloro it is. Go and take off yoiu' luibif. You look hot and tirod." In a little wliilc tho visitors woro p^ono, and Mv. Millir v,;i3 boinjjf jmt tlirouj^'li a courso of qnostions In* My. Sn«.\v. (Jracniesat and listened to them, and thoufj^lit of ]^)He, wlio, all the time, \\a» Hittiiif^ up stairs with Harry's letter in her hand. It \vas not a 1< n^" lett( r. I^)se had time to read it a dozen tiinei over, (Jraenie knew, hut still she linjj^ered, for a reason b1:g could not have told to anv one, wbicli nho. dil not even caro to make very i)lain to herself. ^Ir. Snow was asldu;,', and jNIr. ]\lillar was answering qn»\stions about Seotlind, and Will., and jMr. Ruthven, and everv word that was said was int(^nsely iuterestiiif^ to h< r ; and yet, whil<> she listencMl ea.ijferly, and, put in a word now and then that sliowed how much she eared, she was eoriscious all the time, that she was listeninfj for tho sound of a movement overhead, or for her sister'n footstep on tho f;tair. By and by, as Charliti went on, in answer to Mr. Snow's (pi'stions, to tell about Iho state of a^j^riculture in his native shire, her attention wandi^nul alto- getlier, and she listened only for th(? footsteps. "She may perhaps think it strange that I do not <^'o up at onee. I daresay it is foolish in me. Very lilcely this ncw.s will be no more to her than to me." " Wh-^ire is your si.sterV ■' said .Mrs. Snow, who, as v.'cll as Hraeme, had been attending to two things at once. ** I doubt tlu5 foolish liussie liaH tired herself with riding too far." *' I will go and see," said (Iraemc. • Before she entered her sister's room Rose ealled to her. "Ih it yon, (iraeme? AVliat do vou think of Harry'a news? He has not lost nnicli time, has ho V " "I WIS suiiu'ised," said (Jraeme. lloHo was imsy l»i ushing her hair. "Suri)rised! I shonld think so. Did you eve^ think eucb a tiling might happen, G»*;^/jmo? " This was Harry's Icttt^r. "My Deaii Swteiw,— I have won my Amy! You cannot jATnrr'd i.(»vE and skrvick. 543 bo more nstoiiislicd ilian I am. I know I am not f^ood cn()U;^'h for lior, l)ut I lovo lior doavly, aiul it will go hard with mo if I don't niako hvv hapi\v. I only want to bo nssiirod that yon are b )th d* li.<^htcd, to luako my happiness complete." Throwing hrr liair back a little.. Rose road it ajj^aln. This war4 not (piitc all. Tiiero was a postscript ov(>r the page, whidi IX'tH'.) had at lir.st ovcrhioked, and she was not mu'O that (Iraemo had Keen it. liosides, it had iiothinjjf to do with the subject matter of tlio note. "Did the lhou;^ht of such a thintjf evrr eonio into yoiir mindV" ask(^d slie a. "It is not to be doubted. I daresay sho is a nice httlo thing ; and, after a!!, it won't make the same dilVerenco to U8 tliat I'anny's coming did." "No, if wc are to consider it witli refi if nee to ourselvos. But I think I am very glad for Harry's .sake.'' "And tliat is more th;in w(i eoiild have said for Artliur. However, tliero is no good in going J) lek to that now. It Ijils all turned out very well." "Things mostly do, if people v.ill have ])atirn<'e," said (Jraeme, "and I am sure this will, f<'r Harry, I mean. I waH always ineline little Amy, only — oJily, wo saw very little of h'M' you know — and — ye.s, I am sure 1 shall lovo her dcarlv." 544 JANKT 8 1,0 S'K AND BERVICB. " WcU, you must make Imstc to tell Hany so, to complete liLS liappincsFj. And lie is very much astouislicd at his good fortune," Kaid Kosc, taldng up the letter n'^ixm. '• *Not good enough for her,' he says. That is the humihty of true love, I suppose ; and, really, if he is pleased, we may be. I daresai she is a nice little thing." "Slie is more than just a nice Uttlo thin^. You should hear what IMi'. ]\tilhir says of her." "He ought to know ! 'Poor Clmrlie,' as Hari-y calls him in tlie pride of his sueccss. Clo down stairs^ Graeme, and I wi}l follow in a minute ; I am nearly ready." The postscript \Ylii(h lloye was not suro vrhether Gracmo had seen, said, "poor Charlie," and intimated that Harry's sisters owed him nnich kindness for the trouble he was takinsr in going so far to carry tlionj the Jiews in person. Not Harry's own particular neu's, l^)sOf:up2)osod, but tidiiigs of Will., and of aU that was likely to interest them from both hides of the sea. "I would like to laiow way he calls him 'poor Cbarhe,' " said Rose, with a shrug. " I suppose, however, we must all Kcem like objects of compassion to Harry, at the moment of his triumph, as none of us have what has fallen to him." (iraeme went down without a word, smilmg to her- Bclf as she A/ent. Slu; had seen the postscript, and she thought she knew why Harry had written "poor Charhe," but she said nothing to llosi>. The subject of conversation bad changed duruig her abscuice, it seemed. "I want to know ! Do tell !' Mr. 8now was saying. "I call that rirst>rate news, if it is as you say, IMr. Millar. Do the girls know it '? Graeme, do you laiow that Harry is going to be married?' '* Yes, so Harry h.'Us me." "And who is the lady? Is it anyone wo laiow about? Roxbury," repeated Mr. Snow, with a puzzled look. " But it seems to me I thought I hoard lUfforent. I don't seem to understand." Ho looked anxiously into the face of hia wiio as though she coiUd help liiiu. 1 Janet's love and skuvici:. 545 *' Tliat's not to bo woiulercd at," said she, smiling. "It secniH Miss Gracmo liorsclf has boon taken by aurpriso. I3'it bIic is well pleased for all that. Harry has been iu no gi'cat hurry, I think." "But that ain't just as I understood it," persisted Mr.. Snow. " Wliat does Hose say ? 8ho told mo this afternoon, when wo were riding, something or other, but it SLU-tiiLii wa'u't that." ( "It could hardlv be that, suieo the letter came when you were away, and oven Miss Graeme knew n(Hliing of it till sho got the letter,"' said Mrs. Snow, with sonu; impatience. "Rosie told me," went on Mr. Snow. "Hero sho is. What was it you were telling mo this afternoon about — about oiu* fiiend here — ?" "Oh ! I told you a great many thinjjfs that it would not do to repeat," and though Kose hinghcd, she reddened, too, and looked appeal! ngly at (iraeme. "Wasn't Iloxbury tlic name of the lady, that you told mo was — " "Oh! Uncl(^ Siunpson ! Nevermind." "Dear me," said Mivi. Snow, "what need vou mako a mystei*y out of such plain reading. Miss (Iraeme has gotten a letter telling her that her brotlier Harry is going to be mar- ried ; and what is there so wonderful about tliatV" "Just so," said ]\Ir. Snow. Ho. did not understand it tho least in the world, but lie undenUood tliat, f(3i- some reason or other, Mrs. Sn(>w wanted nothing more said about it, so ho meant to say no more ; and, aft'-r a minute, he made Koko bturi and laugh nervously by tho energy witli which ho re- peated, "Just so ;" and still he looked fi'om (iraemo to Mr. Milliu', as though ho expected them to tell hhn something. "Harry's letter gives the news, and that is all," said Graeme. "But I cannot understiuid your surprise," said Mr. Millar, not to Mr. Snow, but to Graeme. " I thought younmut have Bcen it all akjiig." " Did you see it all along?" asked Mi*. Snow, lookuig queer. 640 JA^'ETS LOVE AND GFJIVICE. "I was ill NiUTy'.s confideiioo ; but even if I luid not l>een, I am sure I nmst have seen it. I aliiKJst think I knew what was coming Ijcloro he knew it liimsclf, at the very lirsL" '* 'J'ho very Ih-st V" re^x-ated (Iracme. "When was that? In the spring? I3eforo the time wo went to j\IrH. Koxbm'y's, t)n thcovenin^f of the Convocation?" '* Oh! yoH! long Ijcforetliat — before Miss Rose camo homo from the Went. Ind: cd, I tliink it was lovi! at lirst siglit, m far as !I;uTy was concerned," adih'd Mr. !I\Iillar, with an cm.- harrassiid hmgh, coming suihh'nly to the knowledge of the fact that Mr. Snow was regarding him with curious eyes. ]5ut Mr. Snow turned his attention to Itose. " ^\'h;lt do i/on way to that?"' asked he. * 1 have nothing to say," said llose, pettishly. "I was noi in Harry's conlidence." "So it Hcems," said ^Ir. Snow, meditatively. "I am sure you will like her when you know uor beif/Ol,*"' said Mr. IMidar. " Oh ! if Harry V\kcH lior that W, the chief thing," HaidRoFrO, with a shrug. " It woii't matter much to the rest of us- -I mean to (Jraen-a and me." "It will matter very much to us," said (iraeme, " a)i-i ,'. know I shall love her dearly, and so wi^l you, Rosi(\ when hLg is our sist«'r, and I mean to write to iiur>ryr tn-Tuorrow — and to luT, too, perha])s." " She wants very nuicli to know you, aii«l ( uui sure you will like each otlusr," saiil Mr. Millar looking deprccitingly at lios(\ who was not easy or comfortable in her mind any ono could see. ",luflt tell me one thing, Rose," said ^Ir. Snow. "How came you to siippose that — " 13ut the (juestion v.'as not desthied to be answered by Rose, at l(^as. lot tlien. A matter of pfi'eater importance was to be laid hel )ri> h< r, for the d(K)r opened suddenly, and Hannah put in h's i)art. "Oh! Hannah, I forgot all about it." But the door was suddenly closed, llose hastened aflerhor in liaste and confusion. ISIr. Hnowhad been deej)ly meditating, and he was evidently not aware that anything particular had been hii[)pening, for he turned suddenly to i\[r. .Millar, and said, "I understood that it was y»)ii who was — eii — who was — keeping eomjtany with Miss llu.vbury V" "Did you think so, Mi.ss Elliott," said CharUe, in some as- touih.hment. "Mr. Snow," said his wife, in a voice that brought him tn her side in an instant. "You may have read in thoB" bow there is n time to keep silence, as well as a time to Hp< ;ilf, went and sat down Iniside his wife, to bo out of the tenii)tation to do it ajj^ain, and Mr. Millar said again, to (iraenie, very softly this lime, " Did you think so* :Miss Elliott ?" (rraeme hesitated. " YeF. Charlie. I must eonfi^s, there did, more than onco, come r.ito my tniiid ihv possibility that Harry and his fj'ioud and ])artnoi' mi<^ht I'lnd tlieniselvt'S rivals for the favor of the sweet litlie Amy. jiut vou must ri'membcr, that " ft c ' ]^it Charlie internipted her, e:i<.<(U-ly. "And did — did y»>ur sister think so, too" Nnd (Iraemo said, " You have not been lonj^', Ilosie." " Are you here, CJraeTne,'' said Hosi-, for it was (juiu^ dark, by this time. "Hannah, this is Mr. Millar, mv brother Harry's friend and ]>artner." And then sIk^ added, with ^^•eat ^'avity, aeeordinpf to tlio most approved "Merleville for- nnda of introduction, "Mr. Millar, I iuakc you ae«j[uaiuU)d with. Miss Lovejoy." *' I ftm pleased to make your arciuaiutance, Mr. Millar. I hope I SCO ^'«»u vsell," said Miss Loyejoy, with l<»enignity. I£ h jANKT s lovt: Am) sr.itvTcr.. 549 Mr. Millar was not qnit(^ cmjuuI to the occamor/, MIhh Lovojoy was, ami she said exaclly vliat was ])r(>p(jr to be said in tho circnmstancoH, and ncit.lur (Iraonio nor Uoko needed to say onytbiiijjf till they j^ot into tlui lioiisc apfain. "There ! that is over," said Hohc, witli a si^^li of reUcf. "The gottinj,' of the yeast?" said (Iraeiiic, lauf,diin«^. ** Yes, and tho paeiliealion of Miss Ty)vejoy." It was not quite over, however, (Irat me thou^^^ht in the morning". For Hose 8ceniespectM, and as much. He stepped across the burn at the widest part, and then ho told n»e, langhing, that \w had al- ways thought of tho l)urn at that ])laee, as being about as wide as tho Merle liver, ju,st below the mill bridge, however wide that may be. It was quite a shock to liim, I assure 5'ou, And then tho kirk, wid tht; njanH(\ and all tho village, 1 f 650 J.VNLTB LOVE AND BEliVlCE. looked old, and flinall, and (luccr, when ho came to compaio tliein ^vith the pictures of them ho had kept in his mind, ail thcHO years. The jj^arden ho remembered, and the hino be- yond it, but I think the only tlnn^'H he found quite an he ex- l)ected to find them, >vero the laburnum trees, in that lane," and on Charlie went, from one tiling* to another, drawn on by a (lucstion, put now and then by (Iraeme, or Mrs. Snow, whenever he made a jiause. Lut all that was said n(;ed not be told here. By and by, he rose and went out, and when he eame back, he held an open boo's m his hand, and on oik^ of its open [w^en lay a H})ray of withered ivy, ^^atliercd, he said, from the kirkyard wall, from a gi'eat branch that hun^' down over the si)ot where theii* mother lay. And when ho had laid it down on Graeme's lap, he turned iind went out a^^ain. "I min, and did not speak a word, 8xce[)t to say that .Oie had (piite for<:jotteu alL By and by, iNIr. Snow came in, luid Homethinpt that Harry and the rest had theu* liome here, for a si)ell. But all the Merlpvillti folks will want to hco him, I expect." lloHG laughiiiglv suggested that a town meeting should Uj colled fur the purposo. jankt's i.ove and seuvice. ^ 551 " WeU, I calculate that won't bo necessary. If ho staya over Siuiday, it will do as well. The folks will have a chanco to see hiin at meeting, though, I sui)])ose it wont bo best to tell him so, before he goes. Do yon sui)poso ho meivns to stay over Sunday, Rosie V" " I have n't asked him," said Rose. "It will hkely depend on how ho is entertained, how long ho stays," said Mrs. Snow. '* I daresay ho will bo in no hurry to get homo, for a day or two. And Rosie, my dear, you must help your sister to make it pleasant for your broth* cr's friend." " Oh ! ho 's no' iU to pleaso, as you said yourself," answer- ed Rose. It was well that ho was not, or her failure to do her part in the way of amusing liim, might have sooiior fallen under general notice. They walked down to the village in the aft(;r- noon, lu'st to ^h\ INIerle's, and then to ISIr. Greenleaf 'h. Here, Master l^liott at oiico took possession of Rose, and tltey wont away together, and nothing more was seen of them, till tea had b(!en wailing for some time. Then they camo in, and ^Ir. Perry ciime with them. Ho stayed to tea, of eours(\ andmadc! liimself ugi'ceablc, as he always did, and when th(!y went home, he said ho would walk with tliem part of tho way. He had most of the t;ilk to himself, till they eamo to the foot of the hill, when ho bade them, reluctantly, good- night. They were very (piiet tho rest of the way, and wh' n they reached home, tho sistei's went up stairs at once (o- getlier, and though it was (piito dark, neither of them seem- ed in a great hurry to go down again. "Rose," said (iracme, in a little, "where ever did you meet Mr. Periy this afternoon V And wliy did you l)ring lim to Mr. Greenleaf's with vou?" , **I did not brhig him to Mr. rinonloaf 's. Ho camo of Us own fi'eo will. And I did not meet him anywlu'rv. He IVtl- lowed us down past the mill. We wen^ g"ing for oak leaves. Elliott had soon some very pretty ones there, and I supi)Oso Mr. PeriT had seen them, too. Arc you coming down, Graeme ?" hi) 552 jam:t fl Lu^ K and sfuvioe. tt Li i\ littla Don't wiiit for mo, if yon wIhIi to go." "Oh! Iain in no IuihIo," Hiiid Hoho, Hittin«^ down by tbo window. " What aro you ^'oing to Hiiy to mo, drjiemo? " But if Graeme had imythiug to say, bIio decided not to say it then. "1 Hupposo we ought to go down." Rose followed her in silence. They foimd Mr. and ISfrs. i)Uow alone. " Mr. Millar has just KtoppcKl out," Raid ^Fr. Snow. " So you had the ministcu' to-night, again, eh, Kosie ? It HceniH to mo, ho is getting pretty fond of visitinf,', ain't he ? " Rose laughed. "I am sure that is '"* good tiling. Tho people will like that, wim'tthoy?" "The peo[)](' ho goes to see will, I don't doubt." "AW'll, wo have no reason to complain. Ho has given us (Hir sliaro of his visits, always," said Mrs. Snow, in a tone, that her husband knew was meant to put an end to th(! dis- fussit)!! of tho subjrct. (Iraomo was not so observant, how- ever. "It was haidly a visit ho made at ^\v. firotiiloaf 's toniglit. Ho came in just before tea, and loft when wo. loft^ inuiiodiatoly altrr. Ho walh(Ml wilii us to tho foot of tiit! Itill.'' "Ho was oxjtluiniiig to Elliott and wiv i\u\ chomical change that taki's i)la('0 in the; h-avcs, that makes tlio beautiful autuimi colors, wo wore admiring so nnich,'" said lloso. " Ho is groat in botany and chemistry, I'lliott says." And then it came out how ho had croKsod tho bridge, and fi)und tliom inidfU* tho oak trees behind tlio mill, and what talk thoro hani ('Xihan;.;ing ;.^l:inc('H more tlian oneu." "Did you? It is to bt; liopcd thu minister did not kco them." " Merleville people are ull on the wati'h — au*l they arc so fond of (alkin;.^. It is not at all niee, 1 think." "Oh, well, I don't know. It depends a little on what tluy Bay," H:iid Rose, knotting up lu-r hair. " And I don't supposo Mr. Perry will hear it." " I have eomnieneed wion^'/' said ( Jraeme to herself. " JJut I nnist just Hay a word to her, now I hav(j began. It was of oiU'selvoH I was tliinking, Kose — o^ yon, rather. And it is not niec to be talkcMl about. Jtosie, tell mcs just how nuieh you care about Mr. I*erry." "Tell mo just how much you caro about him, dear," Haiil Rose. "I ear(» (|uitu d«)n't, you mu.st no! ml so tlmt he may fan<'v voii do. Hose. I think there is some r yon a li'- cares for me, C Jraeme, and with better rearion." "Dear, I have not thou;^Oit about his taring for either of us till lately. Indeed, I never let tlu; thou;^ht trouble me till hiHt night, after Mi'. Millar came, and again, to-night lk)siey you mnst not be angiy with what I say." IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) ^.^M- 1.0 I.I 1.25 '" ST A Z2 2.0 14 mil 1.6 v] <^ /i v^y c^. o^-. ^^^. ■w^^ ^M oy: Photographic Sciences Corporation ^ *" iV ^ :\ \ ^^^.. ^^. "^^ ri.'^ « >^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 i/l 1^ 6"^ D54: JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE. " Of conrsc not. Ikii I tliiiik you must dispose of ^Ir. Perry, before you bring another nanio into yoiu* accusation ; Graeme, dear, I don't care a pin for Mr. Peny, nor he for me, if that v.ill please yea. But you are not half so clever at this sort of thing as Harry. You should have begin at once by accusing mo of claiming admiration, and flirting, and all that. It is best to come to the jioint at once." " You said you would not be angi-y, Rosie." "Did I? Well, I am not so sure about it as J was a min- ute ago. And what is the use of vexing one another. Don't say any more to-night." Indeed, what could be said to Rose in that mood. So Graeme shut her lips, too. In the mean time Mr. Snow had opened his, in the privacy of their chamber. " It begins to look a little Hke it, don't it ? " said he. He got no answer. " I 'd a little rather it had been Graeme, but Rosie would be a sight better than neither of them." " I 'm by no means sure of that," said I\Irs. Snow, sharply. " Rosie's no' a good bairn just now, and I 'mno' weel pleased with her." " Don't be hard on Rosie," said IVIr. Snow, gently. " Hard on her ! You ought to liave more sense by this time. Rosie's no' thinking abot .*- the minister, and he hasna been thmking o' her till lately — only men are such fools. Forgive me for saying it about the mmister." " Well, I thought, myself, it was Graeme for a spell, and I 'd a httle rather it would be. She's older, and she's just ri'j;ht in every way. It wo^ild bo a blessing to more than the minister. It seems as though it was just the right thing. Now, don't it?" "I canna say. It is none the more likely to come to pass because of that, as you might ken yourself by this tunc," said his wife, gravely. " Oh, well, I don't know about that. There 's Aleck an4 Emily." JANKT S LOVE AND SKRVICE. 555 ** Hoot, fie, man ! Tliey cared for one another, anil neither ^liss Graeme, nor her sister, care a pe7iny piece for yon man — for the minister, I mean." " You don't think him good enough," said Mr. Snow, dia- contentedly. " Nonsense ! I think him good enough for anybody tlial will take him. He is a very good man — what there is o' him," added she, under her breath. "But it will bo time cnou;^h to speak about it, when there is a chance of its happenin;^*. I 'm no weel pleased with Rosie. If it werena that, as a rule, I dinna hke to meddle mth such matters, I wonld have a word with her myself. The bairn doesna ken her ain mind, I 'm thinldng." The next day was rainy, but r^ot so rainy as to prevent IMr. Snow from fuliiUing his promise to take Mr. Millar to see some wonderful cattle, "which bade fair to make Mr. Nasmyth's a celebrated name in the county, and before they came home again, INIrs. Snow took the opportunity to any a word, not to Rose, but to Graeme, with regard to h(r. " What ails Rosio at your brotlK>r s partner, young Mr. ]\Iillar?" asked she. "I thought they would have been friends, having known one another so long." "Friends!" repeated Graeme. "Arc they not friends? What makes you speak in that way, Janet ? " " Friends they arc not/' repeated Mrs. Snow, emphatically. " But whether they are less than friends, or more, I canna weel make out. Ma3"be you can help me, dear." " I cannot, indeed," said Graeme, laughing a httic uneasily. " I am afraid Chai-lie's visit is not to give any of us mimhigled pleasure." " Id is easy seen what she is to him, poor lad, and I canna but think — my dear, you should speak to your sistor." " But, Janet, Rosie is not an easy person to speak to about some things. And, besides, it is not easy to know whether one may not do harm, rather than good, by speaking. I did Bpeak to her last night about — about Mr. PeiTy." " About the minister 1 And what did she answer ? She 55G jankt's love and service. cares littlo about him, I 'm thiuking. It '« no' pretty in her to amnse Lersclf so openly at his expense, poor man, though there 's some excuse, too — when he shows so little discretion." " But, amushig herself, Janet ! That is rather hard on Rosic. It is not that, I think." " Is it not ? AVhat is it, then ? The bairn is not in eai*- neat, I hope it may all come to a good ending." " Oh ! Janet ! I hoi^e it may. But I don't like to think of endings. Rosie must belong to some one else some day, I suppose. The best thmg I can wish for her is that I may lose her — for her sake, but it is not a happy thing to think of for nmie." " Miss Graeme, my dear, that is not like j'ou." " Indeed, Janet, it is just like me. I can't bear to think about it. As for the minister ." Graeme shnigged her shoulders. " You needna trouble yourself about the minister, my dear. It will no' be him. If your friend yonder would but take heart of ^n-ace — I have my own thoughts." " Oh ! I don't know. We need not be in a huiTy." "But, dear, think what you were tclluig me the other day about your sister going out by herself to seek her fortimo. Surely, that would be far worse." "But she would not have to go by herself. I should go with her ; and Janet, I have sometimes the old dread of change upon me, as I usud to have long ago." " But, my dear, why should you ? All the changes in our lot are in goodwi,liands. I dinna need to tell you that after all these years. And as for the mmister, you needna be afraid for him." Graeme laughed ; and though the entrance of Rose pro- vented any more being said, she laughed again to herself, in a way to excite her sister's astonishment. "I do believe Janet is pitying me a httle, because of the minister's inconstancy," she said to herself. "Why am I laughmg at it, Rosie ? You must ask IVIi's. Snow." " My dear, how can I tell your sister's thoughts ? It is at Janet's t.ove and skrvice. 557 them, she is laughing, aud I tliink the minister ha.s something to do with it, though it is not hke her, either, to langh at folk iu an unkindly way." "It is more hke me, you think," said Rose, pouting. " And as for the minister, she is veiy welcome to him, I am sure." " Nonsense, Rose ! Let him rest. I am sui'e Deacon Snow would think up very irreverent to speak about the minister in that way. Tell me what you are going to do to- day ? " Rosio had plenty to do, and by and ])y s!ic became ab.sorb- ed in the elaborate pattern which she was working on a frock for wee Rosie, and was rather more remiss than before, as to doing her paii; for the entertainment of their guest. She had not done that from the beginning, but her quietness and 2:)rc- occupation were more apparent, because the rain kept them within doors. Graeme saw it, and tried to break through it or cover it as best she might. Mrs. Snow saw it, and some- times looked grave, and sometimes amused, but she made no remarks about it. As for Mr. Millar, if he noticed her silence and preoccupation, he certainly did not resent them, but gave to the few words she now and then put in, an eager attention that went far beyond their woiih ; and had she been a princess, and he but a humble vassal, ho could not have addressed her with more respectful deference. And so the days passed on, till one morning something was said by IMi*. Millar, about its bemg time to draw his \'isit to a close. It was only a word, and might have fallen to the ground without remark, as he very possibly mtended it should do ; but Mr. Snow set himself to combat the idea of his going away so sooii, with an energy and determination that brought them aU into the discussion in a little while. "Unless there is something particular taking you home, you may as well stay for a while longer . At anyrate, it am't woi*th while to go before Smiday. You ought to stay and hear our minister preach, now you 've got acquainted with him. Ought n't he, Graeme ? * Graeme smiled. €F bhS nV- JAN1:T S LOVE AND SEKVlCl'. " Oh I yes, ho ought to stay for so good a reason as tlmt is.*' " There are worse preachers than Mr. Perry," said IMrg, Snow, gi'avel}'. " Oh ! come now, mother. That ain't saying much. There ain't a great many better preachers in our part of the worhl, whatever they may be ^v'here you hve. To be sure, if you leave to-night after tea, you can catch the night cars for Bos- ton, and stay there over Sunday, and have your pick of some pretty smart men. But you 'd better stay. Not but what I could have you over to Rixford in time, as well a3 not, if it is an ol)ject to you. But you better stay., had n't he, gu-ls ? What do you say, Rose ? " " And hear Mr. Periy preach ? Oh ! certainly," said Rose, gravely. " Oh ! lie wiU stay," said Graeme, laughing, with a little vexation. " It is my behef he never meant to go, only ho likes i/o be entreated. Now confess, Charlie." CHATTER XL! I I I •• 1 j^H, bairns! is it no' a bonny day!" said JMrs. Snow I I J breaking nito Scotch, as she was rather apt to do Nvhcu she was speaking to the sisters, or when a httle moved. " I aye mind the fir.st look I got o' the hills ower 3'ondcr, and tho kirk, and the gleam of the gravestones, through tlie trees. NVo all came round the water on a Saturday afternoon hlco this ; and Norman and Ilany took tiu'iis in canying wee Ilosie, and we sat down here ond rested ours(}lveo, and looked ower yon bonny water. Eh, bairns ! if I could have but had a glimpse of all the years tliat have been since then, of all the * goodness and mercy ' that has passed before us, how my thankless munniu's, and my imbelieving fears would have been rebuked ! " They were on their way up the hill to spend the aitemoon at Mr. Nasm;y-th's, and ]\Ir. Millar was with them. Nothing more had been said about liis going away, and if he ''ivas not quite content to stay, " his looks belied him," as Miss Love- joy remarked to herself, as she v>atched them all going up the hill together. They were going very slowly, because of Mrs. Snow's lingering weakness. One of the few of the *' Scotch prejudices" that remained with her after all theso years., was the prejudice in favor of her own two feet, as a means of locomotion, wdicn the dishmce was not too great ; and I'ather to the discontent of jMr. Snow, she had insisted on walking up to the other house, this afternoon. " It is but a step, and it will do me no harm, but good, to go with the bairns," said she, and she got her own way. It was a " bonnv day ;" mild, bright, and still. The autom* 600 JANiriB l.f)VK AM) SKIiVICK. nal beauty of tlio forests h.-ul passed, but tlio trees woro not bare, yet, thonf,'h Octolx'r was nearly over ; ami, now and then, abrown leaf fell noisek^ssly ihroujjfh tht; iiW, and the faint iiistlc it niad(» as it tonehed the many which had mmo. before it, Heemcd to deejjen the quiet of the time. They hiidstoiipcd to rest a little at the turn of the road, and were gazing over the i)oiid to the hills beyond, as Mrs. Snow spolce. • '• Yes, I mind," said Graeme. "And I nund, too," said Hose, softly. "It's a bonny place," said INIrs. Snow, iri a little, "and it has changed but little in all those years. The woods have gone back a httle on some of the hills ; and the ti'ees about the village and the kirkyard liavo grown larger and closer, and that is mostly all the changes." " The old meeting-house has a dreary look, now that it m never used," said Rose, regi'etfully. "Ay, it has that. I mind thinking it a grand and stately object, when T first saw it from this side of the water. That was before I had been in it, or very near it. But I learned to love it for better things than stateliness, before very long. T .as ill pleased when they first spoke of jnilling it down, i, as you sa}', it is a dreary object, now that it is no longer used, and the sooner it goes the better." " Yes, a ruin to be an object of interest, should bo of gi*ey stone, with wallflowers and ivy growing over it," said Graeme. " Yes, but this is not a country for ruins, and such liko sorrowful things. The old Idrk was good enough to worship in, to my tliinking, for many a year to come ; and the new one will aye lack something that the old one had, to you and me, and many a one besides ; but the sooner the forsaken old place is taken quite away, the better, now." " Yes, '^hero is nothing venerable in broken sashes, and fluttering shingles. But I wish they had repau'ed it for a wlnJe, or at anyrate, built the new one on the same site. We shall never have any pleasant associations with the new red brick affair that the Merleville people are so proud ol" And so they lingered and talked about raany a thing bo* ! JANinS LOVi: AND sKirviolo. 5Cl t fiicles tlio un.si^'htly old incotiii^-hoiiso — tliin^H that liad \ux\y pciicd in tlio okl tiiiio, wlicii tlu? l)iiiriiH wcni younjjf, and tbo world was to tliom a world in which each had a Idn^^loni to conquer, a crown to win. Those happy, happy dayn! "Oh ! well," said Mrs. Snow, as they rose to go up the hill agjiin, " it's a bonny place, and I have learned to love it well. But if any one had told mo in those days, that the time Would come, when this and no otlier place hi the world would seem like home t(j me, it would have been a fooHshncss in my cars." "Ah! what a sad (h'cary winter that first one was to you, Janet, though it was bo merry to the boys and me," said Oracme. "It would have comforted you then, if you could have known how it would be with you now, and with Sandy." " I am not so sui-c c^f that, my dear. We are untoward creatures, at the best, and the brightness of to-day, would not have looked like brightness then. No love, the changes that seem so good and right to hjok back upon, would hav« d'ismayed me, could I have seen them before me. It is well that wo must just hve on from one day to another, content with what each one brings." " Ah ! if wo could always do that ! " said Graeme, sighing. " My baini, wo can. Thongli I mind, even in those old happy days, you had a sorrowful fashion of adding the mor- row's bm'den to the burden of to-day. But that is past with you now, surely, after all that you have seen of the Lord's goodness, to you and yours. 'What vrould you -w ish changed of all that has come and gone, since that lirst time when wo looked on the bonny hills and valleys of Merlevillo ? " "Janet," said Graeme, speaking low, " death has como to us since that day." " Ay, my baii'ns ! tho death of the righteous, and, surely, that is to be grieved for least of aU. Think of them all these years, among the hills of Heaven, with your mother and the baby sho got home with hoi'. And think of the won- derful things your father has seen, and of his having speech \yith Davi^ and Paul, and ^\ith cm* Lord himself- " 5C2 jani;t*h lovk and brrvici:. Janet's voico fultered, and Cjlraomo clasped fioftly tho ^vitllered hand that lay upon her arm, and neither of thcni spoke again, till they answered Sandy and Kniily'a joyful greeting at the door. Rose hngered beliind, and walked up and down over the fallen leaves beneath the elms. (Jraome came down again, tliere, and INIr. Nasmyth camo to speak to them, and so did Emily, but they did not stay long ; and by and by Rose waa left iilono with jMi\ IMillar, for the very first time during his visit. Not that she was really alone with him, for all the rest were still in the porch enjoying the mild air, and the bright October sunshine. She could join them in a moment, die thought, not that there was the least reason in the world for her wishing to do so, however. All this passed througli lier mind, as she came over the fallen leaves toward the gate on whicli Mr. Millar was leaning ; and then she saw that she could not so easily join the rest, at least, without asking him to let her pass. But, of course, there could be no occasion for that. "How clearly wg can see the shadows in the water," said slie, for the sake of saying something. " Look over yonder, at the point where the cedar trees grow low. Do you see V " " Yes, I see," said he, but he was not looking the way of the cedars. " Rose, do you know why I came here ? " Rose gave a startled glance toward the porch where they were all sitting so quietly. "It was to bring us news of Will., wasn't it ? And to see Merleville ? " said she. Did she say it ? Or had she only thought of it ? She was not sure, a minute after, for Mr. Millar went on as if he had heard nothing. " I came to ask you to be my wife." Did this take her by siu'prise ? or had she been expecting it all the time ? She did not know. She w^as not sure ; but she stood before him with downcast eyes, without a word. " You know I have loved you always — since the night that Harry took me home with him. My fancy has never wan- \h 1 i f ; JXUKl S LOVi: AND 8KUVICE. 5C3 ,:. ) dorod from yon, all these ycjuu Rose, you nin.st know I lovf you, dearly. I have o\\\ that to pkiuL I know I am nut worthy of you, except for the love I bear you." He had begun quietly, as one begins a work which needs preparation, and strength, and courage, but liis last words came between pausos, l)rok(!niuid hiurietUy, and ho repeatcvl, " I laiow I am not worthy." " Oh ! Charlie, don't say such foohsh words to me.'* And Uose gave him a single glimpse of her face. It was only a glimpse, but his heart gave a great leap in his breast, and the hand that lay on the gate which sepai'ated them trombletl, though Rose did not look up to see it. "Rosie," ho whispered, "come down to the brook and show mo Harry's waterfall." Rose laughed, a little, imcertaiu laugh, that had the soimd of tears in it ; and when CharHe took her hand and put it within his arm, she did not withdraw it, and they went over the field together. Graeme had been watching them from the porch, and as tliey passed .^at of sight, she tiuiied her eyes toward IMrs. Snow, with a long brcatli. " It has come at last, Janet," said she. " I shouldna wonder, dear. But it is no' a thing to gi-ieve over, if it has come." " No. And I am not going to grieve. I am glad, even though I have to seek my fortune, all alone. But I have Will., yet," added she, in a little. " There is no word of a stranger guest in his heart as yet. I am sure of Will, at least." , Mrs. Snow smiled and shook her head. i " Will.'s time will come, doubtless. You arc not to Ijiiild a castle for yourself and Will., unless you make room for moro than just you two in it, dear." Emily hstened, smiling. *' It v>-ould be as well to leave the building of Will.'s castlo to himself, " said she. " Ah ! yes, I suppose so," said Graeme, with a sigh. " One must bu'l'l for one's self. But, Emily, dear, I built Rosie'a I! i 6C4 JANKT 8 L«)VK AND 8i;UVICK. CAstlo. I havo wisliod for just wliat in Impponiiif^ over yonder Qmoii** iho piiio in\v.<, for a loii/jf, lonjjf iiiur. I havo been afraid, now and then, of lato, that luy caHthi wan to tum])lo down about my earn, but C'harho has put his hand to the work, now, in n<,dit fj^ootl (>arnost, and I think my castlo will stand." " Sco ht'r(\ Emily," Haid Mr, Snow, comin|jf in an hour or two later, '*if Mr. Millar thinkH of catchin-,' tho earn for Bos- ton, tluH ovcniuf^, you'll havo to hurry up your toa." *'33ut ho has no thou^'^lit of doin^» any Hwvh foolish thiiipf," Raid Mrs. Snow. "Dear mo, a body would think you woro in haato to ^ot quit of tho youn^ man, with yoiu* hurry for tho toa, and the cars f'd at Ncn*- iiian'H last yoar, if only Charlie had hocn hohlcr, and Hurry not HO wiHO." Tho HiHtorH woro in their own room to^^'clhor. A pood deal had bcH^i waid hcforo (liis tiiiui thai need not bo repeated, (iraoiiio had niadt; hvv siHlor undtMHliind how j^lad nho waH for her Hako, and had npokcn kind, siHtcrly wordn about (*hurlio, and how hIio would havo cIiohcmi him for a Ijrotluir out of all th(i world, and nioro of tho Bamo kind ; and, of courHo, lloHo waH as hajipy, as happy could bo. 15ut wlion Graonio said this, hIio tumod roinid with a very /^Tavo Uiw. "Idcm't know, (iraomc Perhaps it nii^dit ; but I am not Biu'o. I ilif his " son," as he never failed to designate Sandy, and partly because those affairs were less to him than they used to be, he was able to enjoy the rest he took. For that was happening to him which does not always happen, even to good people, as they grow old, his hold was loosening fi'om the things whic}i for more than half a lifetime he had sought so eagerly and held so firmly. With his eyes fixed on *'the things which arc before,' other things were falling behind and out of sight, and from the leisure thus fall- ing to him in tliese days, came the quiet hours in the south room so pleasant to them both. But the deacon's face did not wear its usual placid look on this particular morning ; and the doubt and anxiety showed all the more plainly, contrasting as they did with the bright- ness on the face of liis wife. She was moved, too, but with no painful feehng, her husband could see, as he watched her, though there were tears in the eyes that rested on the scene jwithout. But she was seemg other things, he knew, and not sorrowful things either, he said to himself, with a little sur- prise, as he fingered uneasily an open letter that lay on the table beside him. "It ain't hard to see how all tJiat -will en<1," said he, in a little. "But," said his wife, turning toward him with a smile, "you say it as if it were an ending not to be desii'ed " -m 676 Janet's love i\JiD BtRVIOE. "All, well ! — in a general way, I suppose it is, or most folks would say so. "NVluit tlo you think ?" "If they are pleased, wo nccdua be otherwise." " Well ! — no — but ain't it a httlo sudden ? It don't seem but the other day since Mr. Ruthven crossed the ocean.!" "But that wasna the fu'st time ho crossed the ocean. Tho first time, they crossed it together. Allan Ruthven is an old friend, and Miss Graeme is no' the one to give her faith lightly to any man." " Well I no, she ain't. But, somehow, I had come to think that sho never would change her state ; and — " " It's no' very long, then," said his wife, laughing. " You'll mind that it 's no' long since you thought the minister Ukely to i^ersuade her to it." " And does it please you that Mr. Ruthven has had better luck r " The minister never could have persuaded her. He never tried very much, I think. And if Allan Ruthven has per- suaded her, it is because she cares for him as she never cared for any other man. And from all that Will, says, we may believe that he is a good 'man, and true, and I am glad for her sake, glad and thanldul. God bless her." "Why, yes, if she must marry," said Mr. Snow, discon- tentedly ;" but somehow it don't seem as though she could fit in anywhere better than just the spot she is in now. I know it don't sound w^ell to talk about old maids, because of the foolish notions folks have got to have ; but Graeme did seem one that would * adorn the doctrine ' as an old maid, and redeem the name." " That has been done by many a one already, in your sight and mine ; and Miss Graeme will ' adoni the doctrine ' any- where. She has aye had a useful life, and this while she has had a happy one. But oh, man !" added IVIrs. Snow, growing earnest and Scotch, as old memoiies came over her with a Budden rush, " when I mind the life her father and her mother Kved together — a life of very nearly perfect blessedness — ^I canna but be glad that Miss Graeme is to have a chance of JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE. 571 the L'ghor happiness that comes ^vith a homo of cue's own, W'hovo true love biiles nncl niles. I iiya miiul her father uiid her mother. Tlicy had their troubles. They \\\vo whiles poor enough, and whiles had thraward folk to deal with ; hut trouble never seemed to trou))lo them when they bore it to- gether. And God's blessing was upon them through all. But I have told you all this many a time before, only it seems to come fi'Gsh and new to mc to-day, thinldng, a:j I am, of Miss Graomo." Yes, Mr. Snow had heard it all many a thn(>, and doubtless would hear it many a time again, but ho only smiled, and Boid, " And Graeme is lUiO her mother ?" "Yes, she's like her, and she's not like her. She is qui- eter and no' so cheery, and she is no' near so bonny as her mother was. Rose is more hkc her mother in looks, but she doesna 'mind me of her mother in her ways as her sister does, because, I suppose, of the difference that the ago and the country make on all that arc brought up in them. There is something wanting in all tho young people of the present day, that well brought up bah'ns used to have in mine. Miss Graeme has it, and her sister hasna. You'll ken what I mean by the difference between them." INIr. Snow could not. The difference that he saw between the sisters was sufficiently accounted for to him by tho ten year's difference in tlieir ages. Ho never coidd bo persuaded, that, in any undesirable sense, Rose was more like the modern young lady than her sister. Graeme was perfect, in his wife's eyes, and Rose was not quite perfect. That was all. However, he did not wish to discuss the question just now. j " Well ! Graeme is about as good as we can hope to see in this world, and if ho 's good enough for her that is a great ! deal to say, even if he is not what her father was." " There are few hko him. But Allan is a good man, Will, says, and he is not one to bo content with a false standard of goodness, or a low one. Ho was a manly, pleasant lad, in the days when I kenned him. I daresay his long warstlo 678 ."i-r JANKTS LOVK AND SERVICE. r ^ with tho world didna Icavo him idto<]fC'tlicr Rcatholoss ; but ho 'h out of tlio woild'n ;^rip now, I believe. Ood bloas my bairn, and tho man of lier choiee." There was a momrnt'n Kiloncc. ISIrn. Snow tiii-ncd to tho window, and her husband sat watchin<3' her, Inn brow a littlo clearer, but not (juite clear yoi. , " Sho is pleased. She ain't maldii;( believe a mite. She 's hko most women foil:.' in ///«/," .said INIr. Snow, emphasizing to himself the word, jL,i th()u;^di, in a good many tilings, sho dirtered from "women f(jlk" in general. "They really do think in tlieir heav'tH, thougli they don't always say so, that it is tho rig! it thing for gii'ls to get married, and she's glad CJraeme's going to do so well. But, when sho cornea to think of it, and how few chances there are of her over seeing much of her again, I am jifraid she '11 worry about it — though si 10 sartain d(m't look hke it now." Cei-tainly sho did not. Tho grave face looked moro than p(!aceful, it looked bright. The news which both Eoso and Will, had intimated, rather than aimoiuiccd, had stirred only pleasant thoughts as yet, that was clear. Mr. Snow put ou his si^ectaeles and looked at the letters again, then putting them down, said, gravely, " Sho 'U have her homo a great way off fi'om here. And maybe it 's foolish, but it does seem to me as though it waa a kind of a come down to go back to tho old country to hve after aU these years." INIi'S. Snow laughed heartily. " But then, it is no' to be supposed that she wiQ think so, or he either, you ken." "No, it ain't. If thoy did, they 'd stay here, I suppose." " "Well, it 's no' beyond tho bounds of j^ossibihty but they may bide here or come back again. But, whether they bide here or bide there, God bless them both," said IVIrs. Snow, ^\ith moistening eyes. " God bless them both ! " echoed her husband. " And, which ever way it is, you ain 't going to woiTy the least mita ftbouti it. Bo you ? " JANKT B I.OVK AND RliUVICK. 579 Tlio question was aHktul iiftrr a paiiso of Rovoral socondM, and Mr. Snow looked ho NviHtfnlly and cntreatinj^dy into hi.s wifo'H fare, that hIio could not help laiighin*^', thoiiyh thcro were tears in her eyoH. "No, I am no thiukin<^' of worrying, as you call it. It is l)orno in upon nio that tliis change is tj bo for the real hai)i)i- ncss of my bairn, and it would be pitiful in mo to gi'udgo her a day of it. And, to tell yon the truth, I have seen it coming, and have been prep;iring myself for it this while back, and so I have taken it more reasonably than you havo done yourself, which is a thing that wasna to bo expected, I must confess." "Seen it coming! Preparing for it!" repeated 'Mr. Snow ; but ho in(piii'(Hl no farther, only looked meditativ(!ly out of the window, and nodded his head a great many tunes. By and by he said, heartily, "Well, if you are pleased, I am. God bkiss them." " God bless all the bairns," said his wife, softly. " Oh, man I when I think of all that has come and g(^n(\ I am ready to Bay that * the Lord has given mo the dcsii'o of my heart.' I sought His guidance about coming with them. I had a sore 8\vither cro I could think of leaving my mother and Sandy for their sakes, but He guided mo and strengthened mo, though whiles I used to doubt afterwards, with my sore heart weai-ying for my own land, and my own kin." INIr. Snow nodded gravely, l)ut did not s]-)eak, and in a little she went on again : " I sought guidance, too, when I loft them, and now, looking back, I think I seo that I got it ; but, for a while, when death came, and they wont from mo, it seemed as though the Lord had removed the desire of my eyes with a stroke, because of my self-seeking and unfaithfulness. Oh, man ! yon was a rough bit of road for my stumbling, weary feet. But He didna let mo fall altogether — praise be to His name ! " Her voice shook, and there was a moment's silence^ and then she added, \ -^.580 JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE. f "But, as for gi-ieving, because Miss Graeme is going farther away, than \.j perhaps pleasant to think about, when she is going of her own fi-ee will, and with a good hope of a Fjeasu^'e of happiness, that would bo unreasonable indeed." " Now, if she wer^i to hold up her hands, and say, * Now, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,' it would seem abou.< the right thing to do," said Mr. Snow, to himself, with a sigh. " When it comes to giving the bairns up, willing never to see them agam, it looks a httle as if she was done with most things, and ready to go — and I ain't no ways ready to have her, I 'm cfraid." The next words grive him a httle stai-t of surprise and reUef. " And we '11 need to bethink oui'selves, what bonny thing we lan give her, to keep hor in mind of us when she will be far away." "SartainI" saidMr. Snow, eagerly. "Not that I think she'll be likely to forget us," added liis wife, with a catch in her breath. " She 's no of that nature. I shonldna v7onder if she might have some home- sick thoughts, then, even in the midst of her happiness, for she has a tender heart. But, if they love one another, there is little doubt but it will be well with them, seeing they have the feai* of God before their eyes. And, she may come back and end her days on this side of the sea, yet, who knows ? " " I should n't wonder a mite," said Mr. Snow. "But, whether or not, if she be well, and happy, and good, that is the main thing. And whiles I think it s^ita my weakness and my old age better to sit here and hear about the bah'ns, and think about them, and speak to you about them and all that concerns them, than it would to be among them with their youth and strength, and their new interests in life. And then, they dinna need me, and you do," added Mrs. Snow, with a smile. "That's 80," said be, with an emphasis that made her laugh. .>.. i JANET 8 LOVE AND bJiEVlCli:. 681 "Well then, let us hear no more about my r»orrying about Miss Graeme and the bakns. ' That is the last thing I am thinking of. Sitting here, and looking over all the road wo have travelled, sometimes together, sometimes a2)art, I can see plainly that we were never left to choose, or to lose our way, but that, at every crook and turn, stood the Angel of the Covenant, unseen then, and, God forgive us, maybe un- thought of, but ever there, watching over us, and ha\'ing patience with us, and holding us up when we stumbled with weary feet. And knowing that their faces an turned in the right way, as I hope your's is, and mine, it is no' for me to doubt but that He is guiding them still, and us as well, and that we shall all come safe to the same place at last." She paused a moment, because of a httle break and quiver in her voice, and then she added, " Yes. * The Lord hath given me the desu-e of my heart ' for the bairns. Praise be to Xlis name."