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vVv^^^^'^\<^^or{?y^T^^rh. ' "|i|j|ij'')i|

. I

'• 1 want to we my happiness," he said. (See page 327. )

(See page 327. )

i!;;:R8ERT GARDFNELi. J&

VrNSif-':-. 01 Ui-T rON

A <ii\mi\ -'•' ■■>«.<:•■

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MRS. .■■ y.. v4!'.UiAM *';i,.-J'K

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.11

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

YENSIE'S OLDEST SON

A SEQUEL TO " IIKRBKRT CaRDENELL's CIllLIiRKN

MRS. S. R. GRAHAM CLARK

Author of " Yensie IVallen," " Yensie's IVomnn/iooJ,"
" TripU ' A',' " " Achoi;" etc.

" l«rd, Thy will be dons— not this or that, but what Thou wilt."

— Cliryioilom .

BOSTON

LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY

1895

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Dr. anh Ittrs. 3- Warren tomtll,

MY KINO KKIKNUS,

THia MX>K IS APFRCTIONATILV DIDICATIO

BY THI AUTHOR,

MM. I. K. C^A'.AM CLARK.

Mr,-

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CONTENTS.

■*' ' '

*r CHAl'TKH I.

rAOB
Al'HlI. PiCTUBBB *

CUAPTEB
Unkxpfcted Company 31

CHAPTER III.
Dauk Clouds 84

CHAPTEK IV.
" Foil IIkbueut'b Sakf ' ' 17

CHAPTER V.
A Frbscbiption. M

CHAPTER VI.

SONH OF OXK F VTIIEK 07

CHAPTER VII.
Ah One that Sehveth TO

CHAPTER VIII.

WlVII TlIK DOCTORB W

CHAPTER IX.
Is IT A Call ? lOO

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6 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER X.

PACK

Ilia MoTiiKu's God Itl

CHAPTER XI.
" I Don't like Questions " 122

CHAPTER XII.
Good-bye 133

CHAPTER XIII.
Dj:epeb Life 141

CHAPTER XIV.
Two SuiTOKs 149

CHAPTER XV.
Afbica 159

CHAPTER XVI.
An Accident 173

CHAPTER XVII.

A ]Si£W Feau 181

CHAPTER XVIII.
The Bordeic Land 189

CHAPTER XIX.
Not Africa but JEsirs 194

CHAPTER XX.
Slipped Unawares 201

CHAPTER XXI.
His Father's Pulpit 2«9

CHAPTER XXII.
Lee's Secret 216

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PAGB
111

122
133
141

149
159
173
181
189
194
201
2«9
216

':^;

ft.

"■W mm^rn y

:'::%;

saem

liEHBERT OAhDENELL, JR.

" This moment, do you mean, Mumpsie clear, or
some future moment when time is plenteous?"
This from below.

" Now, my darling, this very minute. Put off
your apron and come up to me ; just for a little
while, please," coaxingly.

" Don't wheedle me, Mumpsie dea" ; you know
I can't stand it," answered the laughing voice.
" I'd like to be obliging, but really I must be
excused. ' Where duty calls or danger,' — you can
finish the rhyme while I obey it. ' Work is press-
ing, time is flying'— trite but true" — sotto voce.
" I'm afraid you'll have to be your own company
this morning or descend to my level."

"Nonsense 1 I want to borrow you for a while.
Drop your work."

"It won't drop, it's dough, and sticks!" in
comical despair. "Bread and pies, dinner and
dessert, cleanliness and order, all to be evolved
from genei-al chaos and the laws of evolution in
one mortal's hands. Away with temptation I
I can't be borrowed. With all due reverence,
Mumpsie, I won't be borrowed, no, not for a mo-
ment," dramatically.

"Fred, how can you? "—the weight of the
rebuke quite lost in the tremor of merriment that
shook the lady's voice as she shook her head warn-
ingly at the laughing youth in the doorway.

" How can t/ou, rather ? The dough, rising in
its wrath, threatens to overflow the pan ; the vege-
tables beat their hands and turn up their eyes im-

ion\^'AiaKeM*if^}:i~-^- ^--~

BOniB

mmm

JR.

impsie dear, or
18 plenteous?"

nute. Put off
just for a little

ea" ; you know
aughing voice.
illy I must be
iger,' — you can
Work ispress-
le" — sotto voce.
• own company

!l."

'ou for a while.

nd sticks ! " in
es, dinner and
to be evolved
of evolution in
;h temptation I
due reverence,
>, not for a mo-
weight of the
merriment that
: her head warn-
doorway.
iough, rising in
B pan ; the vege-
ip their eyes im-

APRIL PICTURES.

ploring my attention, and wonder with me at such
attempts to cabbage my time."

" Oooh 1 " The lady thrust a finger in either
ear, but the prolonged exclamation was only
greeted with the most musical of laughs.

** Did ever anybody hear of such a child be-
fore 1" merry dismay in the questioner's voice.
Fred you are naughty, disobedient, wilful. I
don't want you ; go back to your idols."

Going, going, gone 1" in exact imitation of an
auctioneer's tone, accompanied by the soft rustle
of a dress, and a young man leaning far over the
balustrade caught just a glimpse of disappearing
calico.

" She has gone back to her kitchen. Shall we
retire gmcefuUy from the field or descend and
bring her up bodily? No," answering her own
question, " the child is busy. I forgot there was
bread to mould this morning. She thinks I am
coaxing her un for a rest ; I do sometimes. She
overworks constantly ; it is her way, and 1 have to
look after her. No matter, my turn will come
when she finds you here. She hasn't the slightest
idea of your presence."

And the fair-haired, fresh-faced, pretty woman
of five-and,-forty put her arm through that of the
young man, and leaning fondly on him, walked
through the open door into the room beyond.

"Now," as they seated themselves in the cool
parlor, " tell me about your mother and how you
happen to be here."

%t]

-A^

Vr*J

*»*

"PSiPPiiiiiir

lit

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

" Mother 'vas not well when I left home, has
been rather poorly for some time," answered
Yensie's son. " But I haven't heard a word from
any one for a month or more."

" Herbert Gardenell, what do you mean?"

" That I have been a bohemian for some time
past, here to-day and gone to-morrow, never quite
sure where I would be next, so that my friends
have not known where to address me."

" But here — surely they would write you here ?
And there hasn't a word arrived."

» No? " with a laugh. "That isn't wonderful,
Aunt Jessie, though I am half afmid to tell you
why. The fact is, I did not expect to come here
myself two days ago."

" Herbert Gardenell, do I understand you ?
Visit the West and not come to us ! What will
your uncle say ? "

" O, I'm here. Saying is useless now. You
will simply have to make the best of me. I am
doing the West on horseback, and for my health,
and am not expected to have much of a pro-
gramme, or to pay much attention to the proprie-
ties. But, really, I got sick for a bit of something
homey, so I came to you, auntie."

For answer auntie aro ,e, and walking across the
room, deliberately hugged the speaker.

" I should never have forgiven you if you had
not come, you dear duplicate of your father.
And now you are here prepare to remain awhile.
Where is your luggage ? "

"■'sSfet^ '-iivifim

fpp

T^'smwWhWf

JR.

left home, has
le," answered
•d a word from

I mean ? "

loT some time

w, never quite

lat my friends

e."

rite you here ?

ii't wonderful,

lid to tell you

to come here

lerstand you ?
8 1 What will

ss now. You

of me. I am

for my health,

uch of a pro-

the proprie-
t of something

cing across the

:er.

(Tou if you had

1 your father,
remain awhile.

APRIL PICTURES.

" TtMi miles distant. I just ran over to visit a
few houi^. A friend whom I have picked up on
my journey awaits me there."

" Let him wait, or, better, come here and join
you. I give you my word you shall not leave us
under a month, and may as well surrender to your
fate." -■

" Is Aunt Jessie among the prophets ? " asked
the j'oung man smilingly. " And what will be-
come of my riding ? "

" Riding ? — why, you can pursue that under my
espionage. Fred is a superb hoi-sewoman and
acquainted with all the finest roads about here,
and they are not few. She shall introduce you to
the beauties of the place. It has changed a good
deal since you were here. Elsie and Marian will
be home in a couple of weeks, and you can see us
all together."

The young man shook his head, but Mrs. Rogers
paid no attention to that. She only drew her
cliair up to his side and inquired into the cause of
his poor health.

" I'm not sure I have poor health," he replied,
" I think, rather, I am suffering from the abuse of
good health. It seems absurd for a great fellow
like me to speak of illness. The fact is I have
overworked. I have been supplying a couple of
country churches and serving the Mission as well.
I took no rest after graduation, and — well. Doctor
Germaine ordered me off and threatened trouble
if he saw my face under six months. Nothing

i* VBj

"'^'il

IIKliUEHT QAPDENELL, JR.

serious, auntie, but "—ho laid \m liand gently on one
of hers—" but let any man sink himself for a c(>uple
of years in tlie slums of New York ; wade tiiiough
its slime, allow its needs, its agonies to reach hia
heart, and it will take much of God's wide world,
the open stretches of earth and air, to restore him.
Sometimes I felt myself a hundred years old— so
fieighted is every day there with yeare of woe—
and only the Young Man at the right hand of God
kept mo by His Eternal Youth from premature
decay and death. Aunt Jessie, the burden of so
many sins and sorrows weighed me down. I could
not seem to throw it off, it haunted me day and
night. I do not wonder the world's sins killed the
Son of God, so little of it would kill me."

"Is ho not his father's son?" said Mrs. Rogere,
tears in her eyes, as she drew his liand to her
lips.

" I trust he is," replied the young, man much
moved. " But, Aunt Jessie, with all the little
resemblance I know I have to both my heavenly
and earthly fathere, I have learned this past year
how much I lack of real semblance to either.
Nothing so humbles mo and nothing so exalts me,
as the knowledge that, in spite of my deficiencies,
I am still a son, a beloved son, and that I bear
the family likeness."

Meanwhile, downstairs a maiden sang as she
moulded her dough. Hers was a bright, piquant,
rather than beautiful face: the cheeks round and
dimpled, the brows dark and arching, the mouth

viwrSPm^^^^SlF"

.L, JR.

landgeittl^'onone
inself for a c(>uple
k ; wade tiuough
nies to reach his
fod's wide world,
ir, to restore hiin.
3d yeara ohl — so
I yeare of woe —
ight liand of God
from premature
he burden of so
3 down. I could
ited me day and
I'a sins killed the
kill me."
aid Mrs. Rogei-s,
tiis hand to her

mug, man much
;h all the little
ith my heavenly
id this past year
lance to either,
ng so exalts me,
my deficiencien,
find that I bear

en sang as she
bright, piquant,
eeks round and
ling, the mouth

CTBlaWtorj^ ti.-*ii.

APRIL PICTURES.

large and mobile, with teeth as white as milk when
it opened in the laugh so natuml to it.

The hair, off of the low brow, had a glow about
it, a dash of red that made it warm and admimbly
fitted it to the face beneath, to which it dung in
little natural puffs and rings. The gray eyes had
the same suggestion of color about tlunr usually
merry depths, though just now the}' were grave
enough with the thought tl t filled them.

" I wish I was like this dough, white and pli-
able, unspotted a:id easily moulded to His will,"
she thought. " I want to lie good, I try, but I
don't succeed," with a sigh. " I am just a blun-
derer. T wonder if mother leally needs me? I am
sure this bread needs moulding. I wonder over
so many things, am sure of so few. If I were
yielded wholly to God's will iliould I not know it
better ? But now I know so little only " — and
here the sunny smile chased away every vestige
of shadow — " only I know He loves me and I love
Him." And then, clear as a bird's trill,

" O what a wonder that Jesus loves me,"

rang out on the morning air.

" Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in
the name of the Lord Jesus," — that had been her
verse this morning. She pondered the little-big
adverb as she lovingly jiatted the loaves nnd
dropped them in the waiting tins.

" All ! " Could it mean the bread, the dessert
her father loved ? "I make that for father, not

miAJMuimiitmm^^

IlKIilfKRT aARDKNELL, JR.

i i

for Jesus." Tho white brows coming togetlicr.
" ()uf(lit it to Ihj for JeHUH? How caul do tint
in Iliu name ? "

She had tho sugar and butter in the bowl, and
as she worked them soft lier thoughts ran on.

"I nugiit Hiiy gnveo over it. I often ask Jesus
to make it turn out good. It is so nice to liavo
Him in everything. I wish I always rememl)ered.
This pudding, this bread, in Thy name, Jesus,"
and then she broke foith into song again.

George Rogers' farm had added to, yes, nearly
doubled itself, in tho ten yeai-s since Herlwrt
Gardenell — then a mere liid — had visited it last.
A natural fanner, proud of his calling and his
estate, everything was in the highest state of
cultivation, and miglit well delight the most inex-
j)erieneed e3'c. Acre after acre of precious grain
Btretched away on every side, fruit was abundant,
vegetibles not hicking. IJut tho sUiple market-
product was wheat.

The house was large, square, and commodious,
without any outwo'/d adornment, but with an
unmistakable air of sulstantial comfort and ele-
gance. It was remov(!d a distance from tlu; st.able8
and out-buildings, and stood on a little knoll, from
v/hich sloperl away on either side the front graded
lawns, beautifully green and smooth.

Behind the house the land fell away more
abruptly, bringing the work-rooms in the basement.
Not so bad a thing when windows and doors
opened directly upon so much loveliness.

Mmm

i mmnwHi i uinB iiii ' i rt niwm

|"'fJU,l! ' !l

rn.

APttlh PICTrilKS.

ling togt'tlier.
ciui I do U>it

the Ixivvl, and
M run on.
ton iwk JcHiiH
) nice to havo
H renieml)ere(l.
naine, Jesus,"
gain.

to, yes, nearly
since Ilorlwrt
visited it last.
.Uing and his
jlicst stato of
the most inex-
precions grain
was abundant,
staple niarkut-

I commodious,
hut with an

Tifoit and ele-
roni the sUvhles
;tle knoll, from
le front graded

II away more
I the basement.
ws and doors
iness.

No rooms in the house had liner views or more
refreshing, n8 the veruant Hloiieti merged in the
orchard l^vjond where the birds sang all day the
hununer long, and spring blossoms shed their
licauty and fnigrance. 'l"ho tlowcr-garden, too,
was on that side of the house and added its rain-
bow of color to the general iKMiuty.

Mr. and Mrs. Itogem were hcaity, social, l)enev-
oleiit, large-hearted, and their dwelling seemed
somehow to pai-tuke of these qualities. Every
room in the house was large and light and cheery;
the upper ones with windows reaching to the
flooi-s and opening on to the verandahs, and every
appointment suggestive of wealth and comfort.

Hut neither parlor, library, drawing-room, nor
chaml)er could outvie, in the estimation of the
women of the family, the long, Inight, cheerful
dining-room finished and furnished in oak, itM
dainty table laid in silver and china; or the
kitchen l)eyond with its yellow floor, llecked with
Hunshine, and its polished range reflecting all
its surroundings, or the par.try with its rows of tins
and its screened window opening on the wide-
spread loveliness without.

This was Nason's domain, the one maid — for in
a family of gir^^ no more was needed. And never
maid better appreciated the dignity of her position
than this western spinster who ruled supreme,
graciously permitting the ladies of the household
to assist her when they so pleased, though she by
no means considered their help necessary. She

'?H

fciiiiiiiaiiilBiiiiiiirfi ]i„

liiiMiiinifiiiii

I ^

IIKIIHKHT UAltDKSKLL, JR.

pi'uft)i'i't'<l {\n>y hIiouUI keep in their own pvrt of
tlio OHtiibliHliiiitiiit, wiiich hIi» tlucliiiu*! wan alM>ve
Ntaira. Itidfud NiiHon vviih just a little j»alouH of
iiitorferennu, and mtlier r«H(*ntud the favor with
which her young nuHtrcHs'H new dcparturcH in
cookery were met.

Hut Nason wivs not thero to frown or HUggeHt
tluH morning. The slight figure in ilH neat print
dreHs, with arms niadt! Iiure to the dimpled ('IIh)wh,
and hiiir pushed hack from its iluHhed face, was
not Molly Nason'H. She never had Nuch Hmiling
lips and tender, brooding eyes. To Molly Niwon

" A primrose by the river brim,

A yelluw primrose wnn

And It was tiolliing more."

But Nason — as she in«i.sted on being called, Molly
M'lis so common — was having a week's vacation to
attend her brother's wedding, and Miss Fred, her
rival in all culinary affairs, was having her own
sweet will without let or hindrance.

And nature was having its own sweet will also,
as this pretty, girlish bit of humanity well knew,
iis, mixing s{)oon in hand, she looked forth on the
beauty spreading out from the window near which
she worked.

The spring was wide awake this April day. She
heard its voice in the chipper of birds and caught
its glance through the opening apple-blossoms, and
saw it nod as daffodils .ind tulips greeted each
other and an early dandelion lifted its face to the

miiiiiiii

Xrr

ArniL PICTURKM.

own i»»fit of
j<l WHM iiIkivo

tlo j*-llloil8 of

favor with
'imrtures in

or HlljrpeHt

H ntrnt print
ii|>U;(l cIIkjwh,
h'aI fiico, wiw
sinh Hmiling
Wolly Nitton

called, Molly
'h vacation to
'iss Fred, lier
ing her own

'eet will also,

y well knew,

forth on tlie

w near which

ril day. She
s and caught
blossoms, and
greeted each
i face to the

hluu Hky. All nature Heeniud joining the hymn
that full from the niaiden'rt li|M, and !\n artittt niiglit
well have iittHitatud, iiad ho i)cen deHiring to paint
a synilK)! of spring, Wlween the April face in the
pantry window and the April scene on which uhe
gazed.

Hut lIuH girl wait no idler. TIt>r dainty flngent
kept time witli the rhythm of her song, and ere long
the bread was in the oven and the dusseit set away
to cool, looking delicious enough to tempt the most
capricious appetite.

Knergetic women are generally systematic.
Fred had her plans laid for to^lay's work, and dis-
liked to be thwarted in an undertaking. She had
set her lieait on the cleansing and rearranging of
the serving man's chamber; it must Ikj in order
before Nason's return. The young lady had not
been impressed with the maid's nniiuier of caring
for the room, and had gathered a liost of little
knick-knacks to brighten its appearance. She
meant to l)egin with broom and mop as soon tia
the frosting for her dessert was ])repared.

Alas for her scheming I As she dealt the sugar
into the whites of her eggs her song went up, up,
until it penetmted to where two people sat talk-
ing.

" She's a jewel," said the lady. " I could not
do without her. Now that Nason is gone I am cer-
tain there wouldn't be anything in this house fit to
eat if it wasn't for Fred, thanks to my bringing up.
Oh I the time I had when I was first married and

so llERliERT GAIWEXELL, JR.

my girl suddenly left me. Your uncle was a mar-
tyr. He ate what was set before him, asking no
questions, for his wife's sake, and making no com-
ments, thougii I will not say he did not occasionally
make a wry face. I have my place, but it isn't at
the cook-stove. Never many a society girl, Her-
bert. She may do the best she can for you, but I
fear she'll fail you on bread

"I'veuisisted on all my girls learning a 111 tie
al)Out housekeeping, c ven Marian. You remenj^>er
Marian, don't you — my little speckled gosling?
She is just as smart as your father predicted she
would be. It will always be a marvel to me where
that child got her brains. She is oft' geologizing
with a party of friends. Fred thought this was
the time to spare Nason, who needed a rest and
liad a brother about to be married, though I fancy
our acquiescence would have made little difference
in her plans after she once decided them. It is
only three days since she started, and it seems like
a montli. My poor little chick will be pretty
closely confined until her return. It almost seems
a revenge of fate when one remembei-s that I named
Fred in desperate determination that there should
be one boy in the family. I ought to have called
her Benjamin rather, or something like it, some-
thing that would express the feminine of the son
of my right hand. Let us go down and find her,
Herbert."

JR.

UNEXPECTED COMPANY.

icle was a mar-
him, asking no
laking no com-
lot occasionally
I but it isn't at
ciety girl, Her-
i for you, but I

jarniug a liltle
You reraenj^>er
;kled gosling ?
r predicted she
el to me where
)ff geologizing
ught this was
ded a rest and
though I fancy
ittle difference
d them. It is
id it seems like
will be pretty
[t almost seems
1*3 that I named
,t there should
to have called
like it, some-
ine of the son
1 and find her,

CHAPTER II.

UNEXPECTED COMPANY.

" A spirit all sunshine, giaceful from very gladness, bepuci-
ful because bright."

— Cablyle.

Once below stairs, the young man was stationed
in the entry while the lady sought her daughter.
Through the open door, across the long, cool din-
ing-room and kitchen, his eye caught a glimpse of
the bright picture in the pantry beyond.

Bright! That was exactly the word that ex-
pressed the univei-sal impression this young lady
made on everybody. There was a warmth, a glow,
a color about her that cheered and enthused the
beholder instinctively, and brightened the very
spot she occupied. Her mother often said laugh-
ingly that the only thing needed to make a dark
room light was to bring Frodrica into it.

And now the piquant face peeped from the pan-
try door as her mother advancing, called her
name. Flushed, sparkling, with a suggestion of
mischief in the eyes and a hint of defiance in the
voice, she said, " Here," as if answering to a roll-
call.

UI»llll| i iaj|lU l lll« i> i l *»i i i«i:uiu»ii^.wiMiiiM

H HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR. i^

" Muinpsie's poor little giii ! her precious little
drudge ! her owiitiest daughter I "

" Oh I what a wheedle wee it is ! " with a ring,
ing laugh as two lips were lifted to the mother's
face. " What does it want, that it begins so judi-
ciously ? "

" Only its very ownest daughter to come up and
brighten the lonesomeness of the parloi-s."

" Selfish Mumpsie I It can only be done at the
sacrifice of duty. Aren't you ashamed of your-
self ? " as the egg-lieater whisked back and forth
with merry recklessness.

" But I will help you by-and-by. It is early
yet — I only want you a moment."

"And the little moments,
Humble tlioii; they be,
Make the mighty ages
Of Eternity."

sang the maiden, testing the stiffness of her frost-
ing.

" But, darling, there's something special — a
great treat in store for you."

Two hands were placed quickly over two eara,
as Fred darted away, singing, " Yield not to
temptation." She came Kick into sight presently,
her precious pudding in her hands. " You may
have a peep, mamma," she said.

" We have company, Fred."

"No!" a look of real dismay, as the face
sobered for an instant.

JR.
precious little

" with a ring-
) the mother's
begins so judi-

3 come up and

■lore."

be done at the

imed of your-

ack and forth

r. It is early

UNEXPECTED COMPANV,

18 of her frost-

ig special — a

iver two eare,

Yield not to

ght presently,

" You may

as the face

" A gentleman."

" Tut," a laugh dimpling the fiice, " there
isn't such an article within ten miles of this place,
papa excepted." And a smile drifted over the
grave face in the entry.

"Hush-h-h!"

" Oh, he can't hear. He's deaf in one ear, and
can't see out of the other eye."

The tone of the girl's voice stirred the risibles
of the listener until he feared detection.

"Fred!"

" Oh, it's no use to say Fred to me under such
circumstances. Don't I know who it is? I
despise him. Sunshine ! What do you need of
sunshine, when you have the full moon already
shining in the room above ? I will not see him,
and that's the whole of it. I'm sick of his
dangling after me, and ' dear Fredricaing ' me.
I'm not dear, and I hate Fredrica when he pro-
nounces it, and he'd better be about his work if
he has any, and if he hasn't he'd better go to
Jamaica or Australia and find some. The very
sight of his big round face and washed-out eyes
turns my stomach, there I " and the speaker
dropped the last spoonful of frosting on her pud-
ding with decision. ^ » ^

"Fredrical" <i: '

" Yes, marm."

" What makes you such a rattle-brain ? "

" I'm not. I'm a sensible girl, and the moment
I get the bread out of the oven, I'm going to

UKlittERT VAHDENELL, JR.

leave this liouse to your tender mercies, and run
across lots to help father. You can boil the Vf;g-
etables while you entertain Sila ^ Crowden."

" Silas Crowden isn't here to be entertained."

" Thank goodness 1 I hope something awful
will happen to him if he ever looks this way
again."

" Is that right, ducksie ? "

" No, it's wrong, but I should have to mean it
if it was twice wrong."

"I forgot it until this minute, Fredrica, but
your father told me last night, when he came
home from the village, that Silas had slow ty-
phoid fever, and was likely to be confined to the
house for six or eight weeks."

The girl danced a pirouette, catching her
mother about the waist, and whirling over the
kitchen floor.

" I'm sorry to be so wicked," she cried, breath-
lessly, " but I can't lament his loss. He will have
to submit to Miss Serena's gruels and graces at
last, and it is hoped will note and appreciate her
devotion, and accept the inevitable. Mumpsie,
what a charming woman you are ! I adore you !
you make me happy 1 Shall I run upstairs and
play you a tune to emphasize my appreciation and
devotion ? " And suiting her action to her words,
the merry girl waltzed across the dining-i-oom,
through the hall, and bounded over the stairs

Some one, who had stepped aside quickly, and
hidden behind the entry door, followed, leisurely

■i, i ji.!. ' e4<tJMijiiiBJa

HRMMMfMMI

Biiiia

JR.

ercies, and run
u boil the Vfg-
"owden."
entertftined."
inething awful
looks thia way

ave to mean it

, Fredrica, but
when he came
IS had slow ty-
confined to the

catching her
irling over the

le cried, breath-
He will have
and graces at
appreciate her
)le. Mumpsie,
I adore you!
in upstairs and
ippreciation and
)n to her words,
le dining-room,
r the stairs
ie quickly, and
lowed, leisurely

UNEXPECTED COMPANY.

and quietly, after the sounds of tlie piano assured
him he could enter the parlor unperceived. She
was singing, " Mi-s. Lofty has her cuniage," as he
slipped up behind her and beside her mother, who
greeted him with a smile.

" There 1 " with a twirl of the piano-stool, " I've

almost forgotten " then waves of crimson

swept neck and face as she met the gravely
amused eyes of the stranger.

"This is the gentleman I told you had come,
Fredrica — ^jour Cousin Herbert," said her mother.

The girl was almost reassured by the cordial
greeting and warm hand-clasp. After all, he had
not heard a word of her nonsense a while ago.
That was a comfort, and she rallied her courage.

" I am very glad to see you. Cousin Herbert,"
she said, demurely.

" And yet unwilling to spare a moment of your
precious time to welcome me," he replied.

"I did not know you had come. That was
mamma's fault," shaking her head at that lady.

"She is not much changed, is she, Herbert?
A trifle larger, perhaps."

" Not much ! " in utmost surprise. " I should
never have known I had met this young lady
before. Aunt Jessie." The young man's glance
was certainly flattering.

" I see you are not much changed in feature,"
said Fredrica, turning the conversation from her-
self, " now that I have a good look at you ; but
how tall you have grown, clear beyond papa.

nEUUERT GAHDENELL, JR.

")! i!

Mamma, why didn't you tell me Cousin Herbert
had come ? gentleman ia such an appalling title."

Herbert laughed. Everybody laughed at Fred,
because she said things in a way so unlike any-
body except herself.

" Your cousin will hardly understand you, my
dear," smiled mamma.

" I am willing to be misunderstood until he

gets acquainted with the masculines of N .

You are going to make us a goo<l long visit, I
trust."

" As long as you will keep me," replied Mr.
Gardenell, surprising himself and the plans laid
so recently to go farther west in a few days, and
Aunt Jessie smiled significantly.

It was a very pleasant company gathered in the
parlor again after dinner had been discussed, and
George Rogers's face shone with satisfaction.

" You look exactly as your father did when I first
met him, and you must be somewhere near the
age he was then. It makes me feel young just to
see you. It was out at the corner he held his
meetings and led me to Christ. I shall never l)e
able to pay the debt I owe him. How I should
like to look into his face. I suppose he isn't much
changed."

"Not to me, sir. He neither grows old nor
feeble, and I don't* believe there's a gray thread in
his hair."

" And your mother? Not well, you say? My,
my, how time passes. I haven't seen her for yeara,

Tps-

JR.

UNEXPECTED COMPANY,

Cousin Herbert
ppalliug title."
lughed at Fred,
so unlike any-

irstand you, my

rstood until he

ines of N .

o<l long visit, I

e," replied Mr.
. the plans laid
a few days, and

gathered in the
1 discussed, and
itisf action.
p did when I first
where near the
el young just to
ler he held his
I shall never he
How I should
)se he isn't much

grows old nor
a gray thread in

, you say? My,
sen her for yeara,

but I never think of her as any other than the
young thing I used to hold in my arms and com-
fort when Aunt Sally Walton was trying her soul.
I've had many a heartache over her, but not one
since the hour she took her stand beside the man
who would die to make her happy. Young man,
your father and mother were the hero and heroine
of the only real romance we ever saw lived out,
Jessie and I."

" And the only one I ever wish to see lived,"
said Aunt Jessie. " It isn't eivsy to live romances,"
she added, " I'd rather read them."

" I don't know about that," was Mr. Rogers's
reply. " There's something so substantial, so sat-
isfactory, when the plot works out right in the
real article, that we forget all that lay between."

But Mrs. Rogei-s shook her head. "I don't
easily forget," she answered. "The heartache
and the heart-break were real also, and so were the
long, dark years. Women are not men, George."

Her husband smiled. " There's one little girl-
woman among all you ministerial boys," he said
kindly, "little Olive. She was a bivby in arms
when I last saw her. Let me see, she must be
somewhere near Fred's age."

" Twenty-one last bii-thday," said Herbert.

"Is it possible? Then she's a year older than
puss here."

And, "Is it possible!" echoed Mrs. Rogers.
" She was only a wee thing in short dresses and
sashes when I was last in New York. Do you re-

■ ■m-rjl

HERBERT QARDENELL, JR.

nicinber, IleilMJit, how she refused to let mo tie
her liair-riblwii over Ixjcausoyon luid made the V)ow
and Healed it with a kiss? The quaintest little
h'iMch of sweetness, and so devoted to her
brothel's."

" She hasn't clmnged a bit in that respect, and
hiw only impn,ved in every other," replied the
gentleman.

" There's a brother for you," laugl 1 the lady.
" Fred, how would you like such a cli npion?"

The young lady shook her head. "Don't ask,
mammu; it's Iwyond me and takes too great a
stretch of fancy. Cousin Herbert is the oldest
child in his father's familj , and at the head of the
column, and cannot have the slightest idea of how
uncomfortable a middle place may be. When
there's so many before one it's hard to find oppor-
tunities for even the imagination to sprout. Think,"
with a doleful little sigh, " how any of you would
feel to sit and hear these delightful people dis-
cussed and realize you had never seen one of them.
There's Olive. I've wanted to see her all my life,
but my turn to go Efist never came."

" It will, birdie," said Papa Rogci-s, comfort-
ingly. " When I go you shall go with me."

" Oh, papa, I've taken that soothing dmught so
often it no longer has any effect. I have lost all
faith in the coming age of ' when.' "

" It will appear, nevertheless," replied papa.
" We'll make it come, if need be."

" Indeed we will," added Herbert. " I'll try

^%J

JR.

to lut mo tie
i made the V)ow
quiuntest little
ivoted to lier

lat respect, and
r," replied the

U If EXPECTED COMPANY.

igl 1 the lady. >
cl) iipioK?"
, "Don't ask,
es too great a
t is the oldest
ihe head of the
est idea of liow
ay be. When "
I to find oppor- ,
prout. Think,"
y of you would
ful people dis-
en one of them,
her all my life,

Dgci-s, comfort-
vith me."
ling dmught so
I have lost all

replied papa.

ert. "I'll try '"

my hand at it; and I'm pemistent, when I set out.
In the meanwhile, you must comfort yourself with
knowing me. I wonder if you rememlKjr when I
wfws hero l)efore, as well as I do ? I can see just
how you used to look. Such a wee girl in short
dresses, and with shoithair parted on one side, and
always determined to Iw counted in with the boys."

" That was mamma's fault. , She almost made
me believe I was a boy."

" Aunt Jessie," continued her nephew, " you al-
most took away my breath this morning, when
this dainty little woman appeared, by saying, so
innocently: 'Not much changed, is she, Her-
liert?'"

The lady laughed and looked her daughter over
approvingly. "She's her mother's right hand,"
she said.

" And l)oth her father's," added that gentleman.
Whereupon the maiden arose immediately, and,
going to his side, placed a kiss on his forehead.

"One might think Olive was here," laughed
Herbert. "That is the way she rewards her favor-
ites for their praises."

Awhile later, after Mr. Rogei'S had returned to
the farm, and Fred to the kitchen and dinner
dishes, Mrs. Rogei-s had much to say to her com-
panion.

"Perhaps you think it stmnge I never took
Fredrica with me when going East," she said,
" but, the fact is, she couldn't be spared. She and
I both away at once would be more than your

tU'

mMni

i'A

!ii

i'\

M IlERttKRT GARDENKLL, JR.

uncle could bear. She hott always been Iuh pot,
■ liesidoH being a natuml houHewife and care-taker.
Tliink of it 1 The ono I selected for my lx)y to
develop such feminine tendencies I and that in
spite of the fact that I parted her liair on one side
until she resented it. Well, ! am resigned to
fiite I "

" Elsie is our bookworm. It is a blessing she
has found a man after her own heart. I suppose
you know she is engaged to Professor Samuel
Stewart?"

" Yes, you wrote mamma and she told ino.
You remember Elsie was Ray's ideal ? "

'• Yes, the dear Iwy. Then Marian — I want
you to see Marian, — she's my baby and of course
wonderful in her mother's eyes. Siio is not as
homely as she used to Ihj, but she is just as curi-
ous, and what she doesn't investigate isn't worth
tlie trouble. If she had been a boy she would
certainly have been an explorer or discoverer.
As it is — think of it, Herbert, and tlie child not
out of her teens ! — she has the audacity to like
Roy Burton. You remember Tom, — well, Roy is
his brother and not twenty yet. He is not a
student like Tom. Mrs. Burton says your sum-
mer here spoiled Tom for everything but college.
But Roy likes the farm and will probably settle
hei-e, which will be one comfort if Marian and he
continue to like each other.

" But there, I began on Fred and here I am
stranded on Marian. I wanted to tell you about

- .. *

I been hiti pet,
fti'.d care-t«ker.
. for iijy lx)y to
I and that in
air on one side
m re8ignod to

a blessing she
wt. I suppose
•fessor Samuel

she told mo.
,1?"

arian — I want
' and of course

Siio is not as
is just as curi-
lite isn't worth
x)y she would

or discoverer.

tlie child not
iidacity to like
— well, Roy is
He is not a
aya your sum-
ng but college,
probably settle
Marian and ho

ind here I am
ucll you about

VNKXPKCTKD COMPANY. ff

papa, my pa()a, who hius taken such an extreme
fancy for Fred, Iwcause she looks like poor
mamma used to when she wiks a girl.

" It is stmnffo none of us detected the likeness
while she was a child. I think it must have
been the tan and short hair that disguised her, for
now that the discovery has boon made everybody
sees the remarkable resemblance.

" Two years ago wc sent Fred to Malxil for the
winter. Mabel was homesick, having only just
been niarried, and beside, Fred wanted the advan-
tage of a French teacher, as she had Ixien studying
the language at home. Her hair was quite long
then and Mabel did it up after the fashionable
mode, parting it in the middle. It quite trans-
formed her.

" Aunt Jule was stopping in Chicago that win-
ter and she was much struck with the child's like-
ness to mamma, who was Aunt Jule's favorite
sister. She went home full of it, and papa came
on here the following summer on purpose to see
Fredrica. The child seemed to fit right into poor
papa's stricken heart. He had been inconsolable
since mamma's death, but Fred seemed to rouse
and comfort him, and nothing would do but
she must spend last winter with him in Phila-
delphia. ' - -V ^ -"■-_■-.:■-' V

" He made it very pleasant for her, inviting
Grace Germaine to visit with her awhile. He is
much afmid she will not have everything her
heart desires. He sent her that upright piano,

ipi

iiniiim

M t

IIKHHKHT (4AHUKKKLL, JR.

luul liiMt Sirtluliiy » Iwiiutiful f^olil watch, himI bidii
fttir yot to s|)oil tho little liuly."

"Sii|)[)()Miii({ hIiu m of ihu HiH)iliil)le kind, which
I much <i<)ul»t," Hiiid Herbert. " People UHcd to
predict that of Olive ; the only girl, nnd hucIi ii
jHjt with everylKidy. Hut somehow it didn't hap-
pen. She in Hiniply the (h>iireMt little girl-wo'^'.iun
in the world. Tite cloiior you hold her the Initter
hho grows."

" Ilut isn't tlmt duo to the wise training she
had, the ^\\\n hut kind himd of ho judiciourt a
father and niolher? "

" No doubt it is, largely," admitted the young
man. " Yet I wonder if wo all wouldn't improve
if wo got nioro of what the world denominatea
spoiling. Siigar preserves more things than vin-
egar, and wo like them In^tter. So love conserves
virtue. It is my firm conviction that no petting
which is the result of genuine unaelfish love ever
spoils its object; it improves it."

" Hear, hear," applauded a voice at the door,
and a 1 night face peeped in. "Mamma is so
afniid Unit Grandpa Crafton will spoil me. liut
he will not. Ho only makes me realize what
a precious old darling he is, and hope I 'am not
quite a stick. When one's sisters are all either
belles, l)eauties, o >men of talent, and one's self
is so commonplrco, a little spoiling is comforting
and encouraging."

" To hear the child talk a person would never
suppose her father had coddled her beyond all

^km

wi^Hmmmmmmmm mmMHmKummi,'m^mt!m

'H.

utch, iind liids

kind, which
iople UHed In
I, nnd Hiu;h ii
it didn't hup-
e girl-wonmii
her the Itetter

training «ha
u jiuliciouM a

ed the young
Idn't improve
denominates
ngH tlmn vin-
ovo conserves
lat no petting
fish love ever

VSEXPSCTEI) COHtPANY

telling iind her mother hiviHhed on tier nil the uf-
fection that lier four hrothei'H wouUl have inher>
itod, had they ever Injen l)orn," cried Mw. Rogers.

"True," Irt'ighod Fred. "Hut home-love is n
little like a home-made dress, ni(;e and comfort-
ahle, indispeiisablu indeed, but hardly fitted for all
occasions. Once in a while one wants some-
thing " — she hesitated.

"Better!" cried her mother, "the child wants
to say Iwtter," putting her hands over her oars in
mock distre.is.

" No, not Ixjtter, mother, but different. Malwl
and Elsie and Marian have that and more. So
gi-andpa has his pla(;e and his gnuid-danghter's
gratitude, thanks to the happy fate that g'^ve 1U0
my grandmother's face."

at the door.
Mamma is so
)oil me. But

realize what
opo I 'am not
are all either
and one's self
is comforting

would never
?T beyond all

,■•,-/, . , ^='.- --

fiT

liiiiiiiiiiii

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

. ull.

CHAPTER III.

DARK

" The strong must build stout cabins for the weak;
Must plant and stint; must sow and reap and store;
For grain takes root though all seems bare and bleak."

— EUOKNK Lfk HAMILXOK.

Hebbekt Gardenell's stay at the pleasant
houiC that opened so ghadly to receive hiin, was
destined to be much longer than anybody antici-
pated. The morning after his arrival he awoke
with a strange languor holding body and brain.
He found it hard to be companionable, and the
stroll with his cousin, over a portion of the farm
in the forenoon, so wearied him that he declined
Mr. Rogei-s' invitation to accompany him upon a
trip in the afternoon.

Truth to tell, the young man had been far from
well for some days past, which was probably one
source of the hcaiesickness of which lie had
spoken to his aunt on his arrival. Unknown to
himself a fever was creeping over him, and a kind
Providence had led him, just in time, to the care
and love he needed.

Next morning he felt worse, if anything, and

1!: I

m}^^ ' *jm

nnniiniiiniwiiiMHiWii

JB.

DARK CLOUDS.

he weak;
p and store ;
irc and bleak."

>E Ha MILTON.

t the pleasant
3eive him, was
uiybody antioi-
•ival he awoke
idy and brain,
liable, and the
lu of the farm
at he declined
ly him upon a

I been far from
J probably one
^vhich lie had
Unknown to
im, and a kind
lie, to the care

anything, and

decided, at his hostess' urgency, to send for his
baggage and friend, who still waited him in the
next town. His friend forwarded his belongings,
writing that he himself felt obliged to push on,
reluctant as he was to part company with his
fellow-traveller.

Herl.nt took an early opportunity to write
liome, saying nothing, however, abouf his lassi-
tude and discomfort. It would soon pass away,
he trusted, and in any case he would not alarm
his parents. His great anxiety was to hear from
them, so he begged them to write immediately, as
he Avas hungry for news from home.

The letter wsis delayed, however, on its joui'-
ney, as occasionally a letter will be. And so it
happened that Olive Gardenell, who answered the
postman's ring, held two letters in her hand that
spring morning, and both addressed to her father.

The^ were both from N also, but one was

directed in her brother's well-known chirography,
the other in Mi-s. Rogers'.

" O dear I I wish papa was here," said ue girl,
impatiently. " It s^ ;ms as if I could not wait, it
is so long since we've heard a word from Hervie.

He must be at N , but if so, why should Aunt

Jessie and he write at the same time?" ^ ;

Then she fell to examining the envelopes, and
soon discovered that one had gone quite a way
out of its straight coui-se in reaching its destina-
tion, and had Y en posted fully two weeks before
the other. - • >:;.-i»4

"i^VRlV

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

il .J

It worried lier, she hardly knew why, and it was
a very impatient little daughter who knocked ut
the 8tu(iy door an hour later, and about two seconds
after she heard her father's step on the stairs.

" Lettera I open them quickly, papa I Herbert's
first," she said, following her rap immediately,
without waiting for the usual " Come."

The gentleman did her bidding, taking her on
his knee that she might read with him. It was
very satisfactory, and she kissed it passionately as
lier father dropped it into her hands and reached
for the other.

"If you were only here, Hervie," she sobbed,
" everything would straighten out. As it is, I
don't know how to live without you."

" Not with papa here, and a Greater ? " asked
Mr. Gardenell, gently, holding his daughter to
his heart. " You are not alone, darling. I misa
him, myself, more than I can tell, but surely wo
must all be glad that for a little while, at least,
he is spared the sorrow that crushes us."

" I am selfish," she sobbed. " I keep thinking
of how he would lift half the burden by his very
presence. Yes, I am very selfish. Perhaps he
need not know at all until the danger is over and
mamma is better."

" Perhaps," assented papa, but not heartily, as
his daughter hoped, but with a reserve in his
voice that echoed her forebodings.

" This letter is old," Olive said. " Papa, you
bad better see what Aunt Jessie says."

i -htm,

I . i ii iiii.il I ii i i i j i j j|i ii t i ii i :i...iiiMJim ' f ,Ji'i JiiMMiAW'. mmikmmim!!--mm/ ' M;-d^9 ' !!sms>:4s& ^^,ms

IMHil

TR. ,

iiy, and it was
o knocked ufc
it two seconds
lie staira.
a I Herbert's
immediately,

aking her on
him. It was
assionately as
i and reached

' she sobbed.

As it is, I
>»

ater?" asked
daughter to
ling. I miss
mt surely wo
hile, at least,

IS."

:eep thinking

II by his very

Perhaps he

'.r is over and

t heartily, as
jserve in his

"Papa, you

DAIiK CLOUDS.

Papa had not waited for pennission, but was
perusing the sheet with troubled eyes.

" What is it ? " asked his daughter, pushing her
head up between the paper and her father's face.
" Any bad news, papa ? why do you put on that
look of fate ? " the slender fingers smoothing the
puckers between his eyes.

" Read for youraelf, dear, and remember it is
our Father who afflicts."

" O, papa, papa, papa I how can I bear it !
Herbert sick, and with fever 1 what if he should
die?"

" Read on, my dear. It is" not a severe attack ;
a slow foi-m of typhoid, your aunt writes, and
the doctor trusts it will run low, — be more tire-
some than dangerous. We must not forget how
much worse it might be, little daughter. You
and I must be trustful in the midst of affliction."

But the dear voice that spoke was low and
broken, for this true heart was (juivering under
mighty pressures.

" And mamma, what if mamma — " Olive did
not finish that question. "And Hervie gone —
sick, too, and we unable to go to him — he has
always had mamma before when he was ill."

"He has mamma's God, Olive.

" Yes, 1 know, but oh, papa, this seems too much
to bear."

"He tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,"
whispered papa. " I caiuiot see my way through
these mists, darling, but I can trust the Hand that

sVi^ j4/ft««*Se?i'^^fii?*W^i!rA

'«l^>

m^'

HERBERT OARDL'NELL, JR.

Jeads me. It is not iiecesspiy to see as far as God
sees, but only to trust as f i r as He sees. 1 tliank
Him. He requires nothirg more than I can give."

"But, papa, it is all so new and strange: Her-
bert away, the boys at school, Ray in Soutli
America, mamma so sick she doesn't know us,
and just you and I," she broke down.

"And God," supplied papa, "and His exceed-
ing rich and precious promises." Then he took
his girlie to his bosom and held her close, while
he sang softly over lier pillowed head these words
from the German :

"Pain's furnace-heat within rae quivors,
God's breath upon the flame dotli blow,
And all my heart in anguish shivers

And trembles at the flery glow :
And yet I whisper ' As God will,' '
And in the hottest fire hold still. '

" He comes and lays my heart, all heated,

On his hard anvil, minded so :
Yet In His own fair form to beat it

With His great hammer blow by blow,
And yet I whisper ' As God will,'
And in the hottest fire hold still.

" He kindles for my profit purely, '

Affliction's glowing, flery brand:
For all His keenest blows are surely

Inflicted by a Master hand.
And so I whisper ' As God will,'
And in the hottest fire hold still.

" I will not murmur at the sorrow
That only longer-lived would be :
The end may come and that to-morrow, ' ' -

When Gml hath wrought His will in me.

';•#

dauk clouds.

And so I whisper ' As God will,'
And in tlio hottest Are hold still."

Papa, I wish I was like you I I will try to
bear patiently. I do want to love God's will, but
I don't seem to be able. I thought I could never
question or flinch again, He has been so near and
precious to ine. But when mamma's voice is gone
and Herbert's, I find my boasted strength gone
too, and I am only an added burden to your
love."

"But one it could hardly spare these days,
dearest." Then gently, humbly: "Olive, we all
find ourselves weak under any real, present strain.
God only is strong, and we as we take hold of Him.
Don't berate yourself, darling, I often find my
comfort in the comfort wherewith I try to comfort
you." .;-,, ,. \x::- ;.;::.:„./,./■- ■ .-,-'::, , tfr-

And indeed they had need of comfort these days.
Over the home, so many years guarded and favored,
had fallen a terrible cloud. The mother, idol alike
of husband and children, was smitten, and now lay
hovering on the very borders of the grave.

She had long been ailing, losing strength.
Months of weariness and exliaustion had been fol-
lowed by weeks of almost constant distress and un-
rest ; now very dangerous symptoms had appeared,
and the doctors were both alarmed and puzzled.
Two eminent physicians, one of them Mr. Gar-
denell's tried friend, Horace Germaine, hung over
her: two nurses, one for the night, one for the day,
were ever beside her. As yet neither of these

g&a5»&ifei^saS8teSfiiiat**ii.- i&*i

>k=V--''^^iii^^<^*^^'Si^^''--''

llEllttEHT QARDENELL, JR.

skilled helpera hiid given her anxious friends any
assurance of lecoveiy, any grounds for hope.

But Mr. Gardenell asked no man's |)ermi88ion to
hope. That was his by the i.ialienable right of his
second birth. A child of God could do no less.
Night after night he knelt before Him in whose
hands are the issues of life and death, presenting
his petitions, holding his loved one up for His
healing touch.

As Olive had hinted, they were peculiarly
situated. Harry was in his first year at college.
Eddie, who was preparing to enter, had been sent
to Mr. Campbell's, whose namesake he was, at the
beginning of his mother's illness.

She was extremely sensitive to the slightest
noise at that time, and his father, feeling the som-
breness of the home atmosphere unwholesome for
the growing youth, sent him away as much for his
own sake as his mother's. Both these boys knew
their mother laj'^ very ill ; as yet they had not been
informed of the extremity of her danger.

Raymond was in South America, representing
the Mission Board of his peculiar denomination,
and making necessary inquiries into its work. It
was an unusual position for so young a man to oc-
cupy. But his honored father's long and close
connection with the Missionary Board and its vari-
ous enterprises, his large sympathies and critical
knowledge of the fields and the workers, had much
to do with this offer to his son. - - i

Then, Gatty, the young preacher's wife, had

^-.^-^

is friends Miy
or hope.
})ermi88ioii to
tie right of his
id do no less,
[lim in whose
th, presenting
a up for His

ire peculiarly
sar at college,
had been sent
he was, at the

the slightest
jling the soni-
vholesome for
i much for his
ese boys knew
f had not been
iger.

., representing
denomination,

its work. It
» a man to oc-
)ng and close
•d and its vari-
es and critical
:ers, had much

jr's wife, had

DARK CLOUDS.

been failing in health, and travel in a warmer cli-
mate had been advised. This opportunity looked
like a providential opening, and Raymond dared
not reject it, troubled as his heart was over his
mother's condition. After consultation with his
father and much prayer, he decided to go, and was
now with '.13 wife and babe in a distant land.

They had heard from him several times. He
was bearing them up before the throne constantly,
for he realized how precarious was his mother's
liealth. She was his idol, and he had been sorely
grieved, when last he saw her, at her loss of appe-
tite and flesh. Letters had confirmed him in his
fears, and he waited anxiously to learn how she
prospered.

So Olive and her father were the only members
of the family at home to encourage and help each
other. From Stanton Cartwright, Herbert's old
college-chum, they heard quite often. They had
not seen his face now for something like a year.
He was dividing his time between teaching school
and the study of medicine. " Plying one to get
money to proceed with the other," as he wrote
Herbert. " It is such an advantsvge for a mission-
ary to be able to administer ijo body as well as
soul, that I have decided to add physic to my long
line of capabilities, and play Luke to my Paul."
For these two friends hoped before m«ny days to
proceed to the mission field together ; and Africa
was their Land of Promise.
■ " I think we must write at once to Herbert and

'^^^^^^^'y'f^A'^e^^

''•I,

llEnUKUT GARDEN ELL, JR.

Aunt Jessie," said Mr. Gaidenell, iifler a second
perusal of the letters. "And, my darling, yea
had better give brother one of your cheeriest
epistles, without any allusion totnamma. It will be
necessary for him to know something of her condi-
tion, as he would surmise more from her silence, if
unexplained, than any of us would think best. I
will try to tell him enough of the truth to ease his
mind, without arousing his fears. The rest we
must trust to God."

And Olive, summoning all her courage, full of
tender solicitude for her brother, and filled with
desire to Bee his face, wrote such a sweet, whimsi-
cal bit of an epistle as only she knew how to com-
pose, and that met her father's fullest approbation.

Siie was a brave little woman, childish as she
appeared at times ; able to put aside her heart and
her fears also, where another's good was involved,
capable of highest sacrifice for those iche loved.
Some day, please God, she would learn to iove the
world, in some measure, as Christ loved it, and
then she would sacrifice for those she knew not, as
now she did for those she cherished.

It was well the letter was written and sent lie-
fore the darkest days came, and before Olive was
aware of the real extent of her mother's danger.

Indeed, she never quite knew this until it was
past. For her father shielded her constantly, re-
lieving the nurses himself after his wife reached
the place of greatest peril ,• banishing his little
daughter wholly from the sick-i-oom, that she

JjlWui.

■ 'WM.lWUlWMMKiiUJWllWgByawte^^

DARK CLOUDS.

'ter a gecoiid
dni'ling, yoa
ur cheeneHt
la. It will be
of her condi-
ler Bilence, if
hink best. I
th to ease his
The rest we

irage, full of
d tilled with
veet, whiinsi-
how to com-
aj)probation.
Idish as she
ler heart and
i^as involved,
e Khe loved,
n to iove the
oved it, and
knew not, as

and sent I)e-
re Olive was
ler's danger,
until it was
)n8tantly, re-
vife reached
ng his little
m, that she

might be spared what wrung his own bravo heart,
lliu deathly face and almost unseeing eyes of the
suffering one.

He had many reasons to urge for this, thus re-
assuring the child. " Mamma did not often recog-
nize any one now ; it was Ixitter to spare herself all
she could, and l)0 ready to serve when lier service
would be valued. He was stronger than she and
able to turn and lift mamma without help, when she
needed change ; and then she had so much to do."

Fortune favored him in his scheming, for, just
now, the housework pressed Olive sorely.

The cook, who had been with them for years,
had gone to join a brother in making a new home.
She had deferred her departure for months, hoping
her mistress would rally, but was forced at last
reluctantly to leave them. So Olive was getting
along with inesperienced help.

The second girl had left some time before, and
she was doing that work herself ; glad of anything
that would take up time and keep her from think-
ing. Her anxiety affected both her sleep and ap-
petite, and, had it not been for hei father, she
would have given up and l)een sick herself.

But he must be cheered and comforted. It
broke her heart to see his white, patient face. She
knew he spent most of his nights in his study, and
hardly ate enough to keep a mouse alive. She
wished she knew how to concoct the dainty little
dishes with which the old cook used to tempt hi«
failing appetite. ??i^ r' it\ j ,uu

■■

4-1

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, J P..

Olive hatl been out of school now for over a
yenr. Motliei- unU daughter iiad laid many plans
for tliat year, hut none of them had come to i>ei^
feotion. Among othei'8 tlim nuiiden was to have
taken lessons in cooking and housework. There
had lieen a day when her muiHuH and cake were
in demand among the l)oys. But that was l)ef()re
Hhe went away to the seminary and learned
8o many new things that such knowledge was
crowded out. Site meant to brush up and add
indelinitely.

Hut, O dear, how the time had gone ! What
with visiting the sick and poor of Herbert's mis-
sion and papa's churah, to say nothing of old
friends, and a Sabbath-school class, and a secre-
taryship of the Y. P. S. C. E. Then Harry and
Eddie made demands on her time, and Raymond
had to be written to and visited occasionally. Best
of all was dear Herbert, to whose plans and sym-
juithies she was always so freely admitted.

He had fitted up the old nursery for himself as
a sort of private studv, the room off of it serving
as his chamber. 1 .>ere she had spent many
happy houi-s, sewing or reading while he wrote,
happiest of all when he read to her some para-
graph from a sermon or asked her opinion on
some suggestive thought. She sang foi and with
him at the Mission, prepared him bandages and
jellies for his sick, made clothes occasionally for
his destitute babies. ,, c.

Then mamma's failing health made it neoes-

„J/7.

now for over a
aid inuny p'ling
(I uoine to i>«i'-
uii was to hnve
8»!\vork. There
and cuke were
that wiui l)efore
y and leiirned
knowledge wam
iHh up and add

1 gone ! What
Herbert's mis-
notliing of old
4H, and a secre-
'hen Harry and
I, and Raymond
%sionnlly. Best
plans and syin-
Imitted.

J for himself as
)ff of it serving
d spent many
ivhile he wrote,
her some para-
her opinion on
n^ foi and with
I bandages and
occasionally for

made it neces-

DMiK CLOUDS. m

sary for her daughttu- to spend mueii of her tiniu
Iwsidt! her. The lessons in cooking went uu*
learned, she became com^tanion and nurse instead.

And now, alitri, even this coveted employment
was Utken from her, and only now and then a
^^limpse of her mother's face accorded her — a
glim|)se that dismayed her more and moi-e and
sent her ever away with an increasingly heavy
hoart.

Would her mother die? How could they live
without her? Oh for Herbert! This had Inien
her secret cry for weeks; she had sobl>ed it out
aloud in the seclusion of his study, with his old
Bible pressed close to her li|)s. Any hardship
would always be moro Ixjarable to Olive with
Herlxjrt beside her; he had never before been
silent to her cry.

There was more in store for this little liidy.
The new Biddy in the kitchen was ignorant and
easily alarmed. The gloom and quiet of the
house oppressed her, there was something portent-
ous to her in the coming and going of so many
doctore.

Fresh developments of Mrs. Gardenell's disease
were seriously disturbing her ph)-8ician'8 expecta-
tions. Internal hemorrhage had set in, robbing
her cf what little strength yet remained, threaten-
ing to sweep away the last vestige of hope. A
counsel of physicians was called.

The atmosphere of the house became dense with
dread, the veiy air was pregnant with possibility.

. '^■

MNP

MWMiillMMi

^■■^■■a

JB.

tuce of (Itintli.
B oozed .'^way.
was UHele88 to
re wiu* nothing
was eontngion
jr. Tlie night
under the roof
riing.

'JYUt UJUaSUT'a SAKM.'

, .\ X"'

'f .

. - CHAPTER IV.

" Foil HEUIiKRT'H SAKE." ;,

"Don't lone ^lailnesa ; every hour ■ '*

^^v Blooms for yoti some happy flower."

That night I How long it waa I Would it
ever end I How glad Olive was when at last she
saw the first glimmer of daylight I

She had counted the hours as they passed, five,
six. Surely Bridget would l)e back by this time.
The child had not removed her clothes, all night
she had lain in them She rose now and crept
down softly over tli stairs. How chilly it was 1
She wrapped a heavy shawl about her, and tip-
toed noiselessly across the long hall and down the
basement stairs.

What a kitchen 1 No fire, no Bridget ! It was
early yet, she would be here presently. Olive
ascended to the sitting-room and lay down on the
couch. How dismal it all was ! Oh for Herbert !
She hid her face in the pillows and tried to
sleep.

Did she get a nap? Surely the clock struck
eight when next she counted its strokes. The
maid would be here by this time. Another

^tr.-i.i,::n.iia(i

■/tmmntmiit^:-

IIEBBERT GARDENELL, JR.

'I'

ii I

jouriioy to the kitchen. It was as cheerless, as
forlorn as ever. No Biddy had yet appeared.

What did it mean? Could it be that Bridget
had left them altogether? Olive went up to the
girl's chamber on a voyage of discovery, and
found that she was huleed forsaken. Every
drawer in the bureau i;ad been emptied, the
clothes-press also, Bridget's belongings and her '
carpet-bag had disappeared. Poor child! She
dropped into a chair and cried her fill.

But what possible use was that with the
kitchen fin unbuilt, and not a thing ready for
breakfast. She wiped her eyes and descended
once more. She found her father clearing out the
range, and to his look of inquiry answered :
" Gone, bag and baggage."
" Well, she Avas rot much good. We will find
come one else," said the gentleman comfoitingly.
"I ^■i^ess we can manage to get nurse some
breakfast, and then I will gc to an intelligence
office. I met Mary Ann yestn-day. She is very
much troubled because she cannot come to your
help. But she has the house full of boarders, be-
side her own two boys, and says her mother is
only one more to care for, and not fit to be trusted
with any work these days. Perhaps Mi-s. Longby
will come and help you to-day."

"Oh, papa, please!" imploringly. "I would
rather do anything than have her. Her tongue
would distract me just now. I will manage until
we find some one else."

[ 1.1 I

'wfOB HERBERT'S SAKE.'

cheerless, as
ppeiired.

that Bridget
ant up to the
scovery, and
iken. Every
emptied, the
inga and her

child! She
I.

at with the
iig ready for
id descended
jaring out the
wered :

We will find
comfoi-tingly.
L nurse some
n intelligence
She is very
come to your
: boarders, be-
her mother is
t to l)e trusted
i Mi-s. Longby

y. " I would
. Her tongue
. manage until

They got some kind of a meal on the table
between them. Then, as her father went to re-
lieve nurse, Olive said : " Papa, I hardly dare ask
what the doctors have agreed." • / \ : : t % *

" I do not know myself," was the gentle reply.
" When they left at early dawn tliey had come to
no satisfactory conclusion. I expect Dr. Ger-
maine at any moment. I spent most of the night
at your mother's side. I think she is no worse."

" Nor any better ? " tearfully.

"Nor any better. Only sometimes, not to go
backward is an indication of slight gain."

That dreadful kitchen I Olive worked at it
steadily for an hour, and then it didn't look much
better. The ashes., the stove, the dishes. How
did one person ever manage so much ?

She left it at last to sweep the dining-room
floor. She had just dusted that room to her
satisfaction, and was proceeding to the sitting-
room, when a rap came at the back door. A mp,
surely, for it was repeated, and something in
Olive liardenell's bosom gave a thrill of rapture
as she ran to answer the summons.

" Oh, Stsmton, you old darling ! I'm so glad to
see you ; come in. I've wanted Herbert so much,
and now you've come, and that's the very next
best thing." And there she was, crying and
laughing and clinging to the young man's coat
in an exceedingly delightful fashion.

" I'd have been here before this if I liad known
what a welcome was waiting me," he laughed.
4

HERBERT OARDENELL, JR.

If ■,«

" Aro you so very glad, littla girl ? Let me play
Herbert a little farther," lifting her up until hor
eyes luet his, and kissing her right on her lips.

" Fie 1 Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Stanton
Cartwright? r great fellow like you taking such
an advantage. I don't believe I'd ever have liked
vnu if vou had acted like that before."

'Not even if it was for Herbert's sake?"
queried the laughing young man. "You see, I
pever was hugged for Herbert before, and it
struck in. There, don't frown. I'll be real good,
as good as anybody can be who is not Herbert,"
taking her arm and leading her into the sitting-
room.

"Oh dear, not in here, Stanton. You don't
know — you can't imagine how parts of this house
look. Mamma is very sick," with a trembling
voice.

"I know, dear. I met Mr. Munson and he
told mo. That is why I went to the side door
and knocked — nob to disturb her with the bell."

"Oh, it's muffled — has been for weeks. But
she wouldn't mind it if it was not. No noise can
trouble her now."

"No, my poor darling, is it so bad as that?"
said tlie alarmed gentleman, drawing her to his
knee, and gently stroking her hair.

" Oh, but it is," she sobbed, breaking down
utterly under his sympathy, and hiding her head
on his bosom. " The doctors were here half the
night, Ray is in South America, and Herbert sick

IU„'i«9tii«

■-.^-WUW*

''FOR HERBERT'S SAKE:

Let me play
up until her

I her lips.

rself, Stanton
taking such

^er have liked

ert's sake ? "
"You see, I

efore, and it
be real good,

not Herbert,"

o the sitting-

You don't
of this house
a trembling

nson and he
the side door
h the bell."
weeks. But
No noise can

lad as that?"
ng her to his

•eaking down

ling her head

here half the

Herbert sick

at N . Oh, Stanton, my heart has been so

lieavy, and I'm so glad you've come."

" I'm glad, too," answered the gentleman.
" But what can you mean by saying Herl)ert is
sick '/ I had a letter from him a few weeks ago,
and he was quite well then."

" Read this, and see." Olive drew Mre.
Rogers' letter from her pocket, sliding from his
knee, and looking very much abashed.

"If I hadn't felt so badly I would not have
acted so foolishly, Stanton," she said, apologet-
ically. ;-'■;. ^'. :.■■'•;;.'.-,-

Don't excuse yourself, Ollie. It isn't neces-
saiy. I think I am an old enough friend of the
family not to need apologies," he replied, smiling.
" You must not force me to say I'm rejoiced you
feel badly — that wouldn't be polite. Yet I can-
not possibly regret that you Ijave at hist accorded
me a few of the privileges I have so long cov-
eted."

" It was for Herbert's sake," she said, timidly.

" Yes, I know," his brown eyes twinkling mis-
chievously, " I owe it all to Herbert."

" And because you were so much together, I
never see you without thinking of him."

" Couldn't you go just a step farther, Ollie, and
add that you never see him without thinking of
me?"

"No, I couldn't," she answered shortly, and
flushing hotly. " I thought you wanted to read
that letter."

;=!

HERBERT OARDENELL, JR.

She walked about the room, straightening
things here and there, her hands trembling a
little, in unison with the flutter at her heai*t.

" You must not let this worry you," the gentle-
man said presently, looking up from the sheet.
" Herv is a strong fellow, you know, and young.
Then tliese slow fevers are apt to be more tedious
than dangerous. We shall have him all right
presently. What ai'e you doing. Puss?"

She was standing with her back toward him,
idling.

" Nothing," she replied. " But I ought to be
doing everything. I don't know where to begin.
I'm the only pei-sou In this house that can
work "

" Except me," he sl3-ly interjected.

" And there isn't a thing done," she wer.'t on,
ignoring the interruption. " Cook left last night,
we haven't a maid, and this room needs some
sweeping and dusting. Then there's dinner to
get," dolefully.

" Is that all ? " cheerily. - ' ' 3 - '

"All?" fli -tuinjj up. "What more would you
want?"

" Oh, I'm not particular, only, Ollie, I can help
you out with so much easily."

" You I what could you do ? "

" Sit right here in this big chair and rest, while
I show you how I can sweep and dust. Where is
the sweeper? Oh, yes, I remember, in the hi*ll
closet."

'FOR HEHBEBT'a SAKE."

Ho was out and back in a flash, a sweeping-cap
that hung on a peg in the closet in one hand.
He adjusted it over his brown curls at the mirror,
and turned with gi-eat gmvity to meet her laugh-
ing eyes.

" What makes you act so ridiculously, Stanton,
and mamina so sick? It's wicked to make me
laugh, even for a minute."

" Who says so ? not mamma herself ; she would
be glad to know her little girl could forget her
sorrow for a while. But I'm not making you
laugh, I am getting ready to work."

And work he did. Olive watched in suiprise,
as with a few deft movements he took up the
dust and threads on the carpet, rearranged the
pillows on the couch, straightened the books on
the table and what-not.

He borrowed her duster, and in an incredibly
short time stood ready for something else, while
everything in the room looked fresh and bright
from his touch.

" You are smarter than any girl we ever had and
much tastier," she exclaimed admiringly.

"Of couree. What did you expect from my
mother's son?" he laughed. "Now if you will
take my arm we will descend to the kitchen,
empty our sweeper and prepare for dinner. What
are we going to have for dinner, mademoiselle ? "

" Steak with vegetables ; the only thing I know
anything about. I bsiieve there is a pie, baked
yesterday, and papa will bring home fresh bread.

■I

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

If it wasn't for nurse I wouldn't have attempted
any dinner. Papa and I don't care for food."

"But I do," cried the youth, "Don't forget I
am here now and must be fed, and you must eat
whether you wish or not. If I don't broil a steak
that will tempt you, then I am not worthy of my
reputation as a cook."

" What a comfort you are, Stanton ! "

"Am I not?" diving his head into the pot-closet
and drawing forth a kettle. "Let's see, the vege-
tables are in the cellar, I suppose ? "
- "I suppose they are," assented Olive, following
him like a child, diverted for the present from her
sorrow. "Where did you learn so much?"

"At home, helping my mother. She was sick a
good deal and could not afford help."

" Wliat a blessing 1 not the sickness I mean, but
^but " ^ ,

"The lack of help?"

" Yes, I wish I knew as much, but I am going
to learn. Mamma thought I ought, before
going out either into the world or the mission
field."

" It certainly is a good thing to be handy," an-
swered Stanton, bowl and knife in hand, as he began
paring the potatoes. " Just think what a shining
example I will be to the darkies in Africa, who
expect their women to do all the work."

■' You will have to eat a bit of this steak, or I
shall refuse to help you wash the dishes," said this
same young man an hour later as he set an appe-

!hi.M

'FOR HERBERT'S SAKE."

e attempted
I- food."
on't forget I
ou must eat
broil a steak
srthy of my

he pot-closet
ee, the vege-

'e, following
3nt from her
ich?"
e was sick a

I mean, but

"There, isn't

tizing mowel before the maiden,
that nice."

" I never tasted better," she affirmed, eating it
with relisli.

"And now, please," sUtnding before her as she
finished the last mouthful, " I beg your pardon
for asking guch a favor, but couldn't you give the
cook just the tiniest kiss for his own sake and not
Herbert's." Bending so close, it would not have
been difficult to satisfy him.

"Perhaps I ought, you have helped me so much,
but— but— " she hesitated— " I couldn't think of
leaving out Hervie. It will have to be for both of
you, Stanton."

" Then it will have to be double," he responded
cheerfully, "but I shall not mind that."

I am going
ght, before
the mission

-■:,->:■

"■A'-i0^

- ^■••(-.o *'-;* -"■'■/-;-(■■

handy," an-
, as he began
at a shining
Africa, who

I steak, or I
)S," said this
iet an appe-

UEHBERT GARDEN ELL, JB.

. CHAPTER V.

A PHE8CRIPTION.

" Tliero will he no Chiisli&n without a Oethsemane, bat
every praying Christian will find that each Gethsemane has iu

angel."

Mr Gardenell did not come home to dinner.
He iVRfl closeted with Homce Genaaine, and that
gentlaniftn'u face was only loss anxious than his
own. : s

" We have done all we could, Gardenell," he
said tremulously. " I do not need to tell you, who
know what your wife has l>een to my life, tliat I
have exerted my utmost skill to spare her to your

love."

"I know, Horace, I know," the clergyman
touched the doctor's hand lovingly. " But now,
what now ? Don't tell me you have given her

up?" ■ ,-:-:.: ^

"Into the hands of God," answered the doctor
with emotion. " We have exhausted every avail-
able means, we know of only one other thing that
offers any possibility of help, and it is so uncertain
in her case that it is almost cruel to mention it to
you.' ., ; .^..,,^

Jethsemane, bnt
aUsenuine hu iU

T. BlNNEY.

line to dinner,
aine, and that
;iou8 than his

raidenell," he
) tell you, who
my life, tliat I
re her to your

le clergyman
r. " But now,
ve given her

red the doctor
id every avall-
her thing that
is so uncertain
mention it to

A PRESCRIPriON.

"Niinie it," /ied the gentleman under his
breath, his extreme quiet licHpeaking the excite-
ment under which he was laboring. " It must be
tried, however uncertain.'^

" It shall be tried," was the reply. " It is trans-
fusion, the injecting into lier veins of blood from
some healthy pewon. Gardenell, I want you to
undei-stand me. While this oimration has been
successful in many cfises, it is extremely doubtful
whether it will be so or not in your wife's case, as
her vittility is very low. If it fails I know of
nothing else."

" It must not fail, it will not." I have asked for
hope, just hope, and you give it. Horace," look-
ing up into the doctor's eyes, " Horace, you know
what I wish to Jisk ? "

" Yes, and I emphatically refuse to listen to your
request," was the pi-ompt reply.

"And why?"

"You ask that? Listen, Because it is written
* Thou shalt not kill.' One droj) of blood less iit
your heart would mean insUuit death."

Something like an unutterod moan, passed over
the minister's face. " The will of the Lord be
done," he said brokenly. And his loiijj-time friend
put both arms about his shoulders.

" It is not like you to yield to despair while God
lives, ray dear pastor," he said. " I want you to
know how gladly I would put my own lil'o at her
disposal did I dare. Btit some things are forbid-
den even to love. We are not to commit suicide

|Ki«iSift'a>' *&«&; r5.!#ff'tes-

UBRRKRT OARDENELL, JR.

to Hpare the life of our deiireHt. If God sees that
ti'HiiMfuHioii will avail, He will certainly furni.sti
the needed Hulwtitute, and he Kure I will leave no
stone unturned to find n suitahle 2)er8on."

Mr. Gardenell liad no heart to meet his daugh-
ter, and quietly let himself into his house, going
at once to his study and his knees. No one could
help him now but God. He forgot dinner, forgot
sermon, forgot everything hut his need and God's
ubility to meet it. He forgot even the hungry cry
of his heart after his fii-st-born. Like Olive he
jitwl learned to lean iieavily on Herbert, liis \\\y-
Benco at this time had been a dire calamity.
Horace Germaino had said : ' ]

" If Herbert was here and in his xisual health, I
would unhesitatingly use him," thus voicing the
foremost thought of this father's heart. He was
rebuked immediately.

" If — if I " Mary and Martha of old used that
impotent little word too, but it was in resi)ect to
their Lord. " If Thou hailst been liere my brother
had not died."

Was he daring to put another in the place of
his Christ ? Could any other but God avert death ?
Was He straightened for means? Could it be
possible he was learning to substitute any other
for his Maker? Unconsciously pk ^ing his de-
pendence on this son God had given him, rather
than on the Giver Himself? Was it necessary
for God to so smite, and so strip him of all his
props, to teach him there was help in no other?

jloil sees that
tiiiily furnitth
will leave no

iOll

n'.t liis daugli-
liouse, goiiipf
No one could
Jiiiner, forgot
ed and God's
le hungry cry
ike Olive he
rbert, liis n\>-
ire calami ly.
-■ f^'. :- ■'■;*■ 'c ' 'p

sual health, I
8 voicing the
art. He was

)ld used that

in re8i)ect to

re my brother

I the place of
i avert death ?
Could it be
ute any other
z ling his de-
3n him, rather
) it necessary
him of all his
1 no other?

A PUESCltlPTION.

Humbled, broken, he lay on his face before his
■Creator. He would accept the will of God, lie
would not even prefer anything before it. He
would axk only that it be fully accnmi»li8hed in
him and his. " Not my will but Thine Im done,"
ho whispered brokenly, and found the S.wiour's
added words trembling on his tongue : " If it bo
possible let this cup pass from me."

There was no sin in that spontaneous prayer. It
liad been purified long since by its passage through
the lips of the Holiest. It brought to this man, by
its very utterance, as it does to all othera, some-
thing of the Divine Hope and the Divine Submis-
sion that stirred the breast of the Divinely-human
Brother who first breathed it.

ITe remembered with a moan — this human fol-
lower of that more than human Christ — that for
the one who fii-st offered this petition, it was not
possible the cup should pass, it must be drained.
" Even so. Father," he said, and then his heart
broke as the old story of Abmham and Isaac stood
out before him, and the Spirit whispered that God
spared His servant's heart and son when He could
not spare His own.

His whole soul was melted under the realization
of such love, and he lay with upturned face, over
which crept smiles like rainbows amidst his tears,
as his being responded to the mighty touch of his
gmcious God. Whatever should follow, he must
always thank God for this hour of privilege, of
revelation. Whatever should follow his hand was

»0

IIKRHKHT OAHDENELL, JR.

Hmily cliuiped in His who held the world aiid held
hirt (larliiig'8 lifu iw wfll. He iiiul proven tha
wuihIh uf anothur: " Sund-UmkH and eliifH, whirl*
pooU and UimpostM, dark ni^httt and thick fog!
And yot, on HUch a Hea, I iind myself ns well i\a
those who rent in the haven."

I'erhaiw it wiiH the unusual company downstaii-H
that made Olive oblivious to her father's home-
coming. His step, howover guarded, had never
before eHcaped her listening ear. As it was, the
two below waited in blissful ignoiance of his
vicinity until Stanton suggested that nurae nmst
need her dinner and ought to l>e relieved.

This was a duty from which Olive shrank since
her mother iiad been so low. She dreaded to meet
the still, white face ; it made her heart sink. The
young man needed only a glimpse of her own
face to understand this.

" I would go myself, Olive," he said, " only nurse
might object to a stranger, one she had never mot
before. I will soon be in a position to relievo you."

" You do not think I am unwilling to do any-
thing for mamma ? " she answered. " You must
not suppose it would be hard for me, to take her
place if I could. If I might suffer for her, instead
of her, I would do it gladly ! But, O Stanton,
that sick woman up there isn't mamma. She is
hollow and old, and has no resemblance to my
mother. If yon should see that face just once it
would haunt you as it does me, driving away all
sleep and peace,"

'■H.

A FBM^VBienoif.

rUl iuhI lipid
in'oveii tlie

clIffM, whirl-
thick fo^I

f ns well lis

y down8tiiii-H
ther'M hotno-
, had luiver
i it wtw, the
ance of his
: nurse luust
fed.

Hhrank since

tided to meet

t sink. The

of her own

" only nurse
A never mot
relieve you."
g to do any-

" You must
. to take her
' her, instead
, O Stanton,
I ma. She is
lance to my

just once it
'lug away all

But hIio wenMnd presently nurMe fti)pcnred, and
while hIk^ iito the delicious stcjik luul «leli.ato toiint
her gentloiium waiter had prepared, ho learned all
he littil \ ished to know of the sick-chamber and iU
occupant.

"Have the doctors given up all hope?" he
questioned.

*♦ Not quite. From something Professor Ger-
maine dropped this morning I should judge he had
decided to try transfusion."

♦' And you think it may prove successful ? "
" I have known it to work wonders occasionally,"
she i-eplied. " Mra. (iardenell is very weak, her
life seems to liang by a single thread. But he sure
if anything can strengthen that thread it will be
done. Such devotion as not only Mr. Gardenell
and his daughter, but these physicians have shown,
I have seldom seen equalled. They have fought
desperately over every inch of ground she has lost,
and if she dies it will be in spite of the most de-
termined effort to save her."

It was not long after the dinner dishes were
washed that Stanton made his next proi)08ition.

'* I am going out while you take a nap, OUie.
Can't you lend me a latch-key so I need disturb no
one by my return ? "

» No I-^Yes ! Oh, don't go away, Stanton I "
" Not even if business of importance demands
my attention ?" he asked.

" Why, if you must I suppose you must," — slow-
ly. " But come right back. It seems ivs if I could

;;■■", ;iV>v^.

ii'

,■ II

62 HERBERT OARDENELL, JR.

not bear to lose sight of you, now you've really
corae."

" I will never forsake Micawbsr," said the
young man, drolly. " I'm here to stay, Princess,
to stay until the danger is past and your mother
begins to improve. '

" Do you i-eally think she ever will ? "

" I almost know she will," was the reply, and
the glad light in the bmve eyes did as much as his
words towards assuring the girl, though she an-
swered, doubtfully : " You haven't seen her yet."

" I don't need to," he replied. " I am so glad I
am here and can tiike care of you all. Now, little
girl, promise me to go straight to your room when
I am gone, and lie down."

" I can't sleep if I do. I haven't slept for
nights."

'*Poor child! No wonder your nerves are
shaky and you don't know how to hope. We
shall change all that, please God. You will sleep
to-day ; you will try at least, to please me ? "

" I hate to go up there alone, Stanton, the house
is so still and ko dreary ! "

"Olive, if Herbert assured you that there was
hope for mamma, and bade you go sleep, trusting
his word, what would you do ? "

" I would believe him ; I would have to."

'" And what more ? " his eyes holding hera
steadily.

"I would obey him." ■ s i-

"I take Herbert's place, do I not?" smiling.

.'ytiihfev..

■wamm

A PRESCRIPTION.

i^ou've really

r," said the
ay, Princess,
your mother

2» -■■'•■■

e reply, and
} much as his
>ugh she an-
jen her yet."
am so glad I
Now, little
r room when

I't slept for

nerves are
hope. We

ou will sleep

3 me?"

on, the house

at there was
eep, trusting

veto."
lolding hers

t?" smiling.

" Now I assure you that I believe God has an-
swered prayer for your mother, and that before
long she will be herself again. I ask you because
you trust God and believe me, to go lie down and
rest ; get strength ready for the days when she will
need you. Will you obey me ? "

" I will try."

" That's a good little Princess ! Nov/ I have a
prescription which, if followed, will ensure you
rest. See, I will write it down."

He took from his pocket a pencil and scrap of
paper, and, after scribbling a few words, slipj^ed it
into her hand. " Read this on your knees when
you reach your room, put it under your head for a
pillow, and rest."

She followed him to the hall, held his coat and
hat, lifted the soberest of faces for his farewell
kiss, and winked hard to keep back the teaw
when he shut the door.

" I am foolish, weak, wicked 1 ' 2^,3 said. " Dis-
trust of God must be the sin of sins ; and I, some-
how I can neither pray nor believe." She did not
consider how the long strain of these weeks had
been sapping her strength, as she thus condemned
herself.

Mechanically she turned to go upstairs, her
paper-slip forgotten in her hand. As she came to
the study door she paused. Why not peep in ?
Perhaps papa was there. She did not expect to
see his face, but it met here. A face so radiant
with some inner joy that she cried out, eagerly :

HERBERT GARDENELL, JE.

"Is she better? Do the doctora hopt; ? OIj,
papa, am I the only faithless one ? "

He drew her to his arms. "Poor little one,
your body clogs your soul I You are utterly
weary. No, my darling, nothing is changed,
mamma is no better : the doctoi-s offer little hope.
But God's will is sure to be done, and I know — I
know without a shadow of a doubt" — a thrill of
exultancy trembling through his voice — " I know
His will is the best thing that can come to you, to
her, to me."

And, clinging to his bosom, Olive shed freely
the teai-8 she had long restrained. Was not this
the precursor of death, this stmnge uplifting of
her father's spirit ? Was not God preparing him
for the blow so sure to fall ?

The gentleman did not disturb her. His gentle
hand stroked her soft hair occasionally, but he
was glad she could weep ; for youth there is heal-
ing in tears. By-and-by her sobs ceased, and she
lay, weak and quiet, on his Iwsom.

"Did you come to papa for any thing special?"
he asked then.

" No. I was going up to lie down awhile, and
thought I would peep in. I did not know you
had come."

" Let me take you to your room. Perhaps you
can sleep now, my tired darling." And gathering
her closer in his anns he carried her to her cham-
ber and deposited her on the bed. He arranged
the pillows under her head, drew a heavy wrap

Jg^ ^jm v wwj fta

A PRESCRIPTION.

lOpt; ? Oil,

little one,
are utterly
3 changed,

little hope.
[ I know — I
-a thrill of
)— " I know
le to you, to

shed freely
^as not this
uplifting of
eparing him

His gentle
illy, but he
lere is heal-
led, and she

ig special?"

awhile, and
1 know you

Perhaps you
id gathering
o her cham-
ie arranged
heavy wrap

over her and whispered, " now sleep and think iio
moi-e," kissing her eyelids over her eyes. A mo-
inent after she was alone.

Almost too weak to move, she lay quite still,
but she did not try to sleep. She knew now that
her mother would die. She had feared it for
weeks, at last she was sure. But she had no
more teai-s to shed. She turned over wearily,
and the little paper billet fell from her hand.

Stanton ! She had forgotten to speak of his
coming to her father, forgotten his message, his
bidding. Lifting the tiny slip she read : " I will
trust arnl not be afraid." Isa. 12 : 2. The em-
phatic words were underscored.

She read the Avords over and over. Surely they
were meant for her. Did not God think of this
day and her sorrow, when He inspired His prophet
to write them ? Why not ? If He wrote of the
Buiferings of Christ seven hundred years before
His birth, took cognizance of her sin and prepared
a i-emedy for it, why not of her woe also, and its
comforting, though these words were written more
than two thousand years before her sense of need ?

Somehow the unfailing, ever-present care of her
God took hold on her heart — His thoughtful love
for the weakest of His own. " A sparrow shall
not fall on the ground without your Father." —
" Ye are of more valre than many spaiTows."—
" The very hairs of your head are ail numbered."
— " In all their affliction He was afflicted, and the
angel of His presence saved them."
S

-:i

111

: i!

I? I

lis

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

Teare were slipping fiom under her lids now-
gentle, helpful tears. The soothing had reached
her soul; and with the hand holding the little
preacher under her cheek, she fell into a deep
sleep.

(.1 '-"'■■'

'«*

ids now —

d reached

the little

to a deep

') ■' '-''■

■-'_V"

'-'^- ..':-'■ ^h'' ,■■■■■

1^!

:"V"*-:v

■?i, ■■::'■■.-.

"nous OF ONE FATHER."

Ipf • :: CHAPTER VI.

" SONS OF ONE FATHER."

"Your way may be closed, but His way is open. (Sod
knows all when you know nothing at al' "

CUABLES SPUKOKON.

A RAP at the study door.

Mr. Gardenell had not heard any one approach,
but he said " Come," and then sprang forward in
astonishment to clasp a tall, stalwart youth to his
heart.

" Stanton, my dear, dear boy, where did you
come from ? how glad I am to see you I "

" Thank you. I am gla ' to be here. 'Twould
be a queer fellow who wouldn't be, after such a
welcome."

" When did you come ? Are you going to stay
awhile? It seems almost like having Herbert
home to see you."

" Just what Olive said the moment she saw my
face."

"Olive I Have you Seen Olive?" in surprise.
"I was up to her room not five minutes ago and
she was fast asleep."

" Good I she promised me to go to bed. She is

UBRBERT OAHDEyELL, JR.

all worn out. It is lucky I happened around at
just this time."

" Lucky 1 happened I I don't like those terms.
But when did you see Olive ? she was in my arms
an hour before going to bed ; indeed, I carried her
to her room, and she never mentioned your name.
When did you arrive ? "

" Oh, sometime tliis forenoon. I was the Biddy
who cooked dinner for this establishment, and
waited on table," laughing at tlie gentleman's in-
credulous astonishment. " Ask Olive if she was
not moaning over the work, when all the while
a firat-class cook and excellent housemaid was on
his way thither ? " ■■";:«

" Add a big sunbeam to your, list of excel-
lences while you are at it, Stanton," smiled the
gentleman. " Your very presence is exhilarating.
I am glad you are here with your quick wlt^s. I
am not to be trusted. I was to hunt uj. n servant
for my poor little girl and forgot it. My talk
with Germaine drove everything except one out
of my head. I suppose my talk witli Olive did-
the same for her. Of course you know of the
sorrow that has befallen us, Stanton ? "

The young man put his hand familiarly and
tenderly over the one the clergyman had laid on
his knee.

" That prince of preachers — Charles Spurgeon
— says, ' Affliction is the seal of the Lord's elec-
tion,' sir," he said. " I have just come, myself^
from Di'. Germaine's office."

around at

)se terms.
1 my arms
arried lier
)ur name.

the Biddy
nent, and
iman's in-
if she was
the while
id was on

of excel-
miled the
lilarating.
k wit-a. I
n servant
My talk
t one out
Olive did.
»w of the

liarly and
\d laid on

Spurgeon
ard's elec-
le, myuelfi

** aON8 OF ONE FATHER.'' ^ 68

"And know all?"

" And know all," he reiterated, with peculiar
emphasis on the last word. " You were right,
Mr. Gardenell, when you found fault with my
words, 'lucky' and * happened.' Not luck, but
God sent me here to take Herbert's place in thin
hour of need. I have already placed myself at
the doctors' disposal. To-morrow morning they
make the firat trial. I want you to look forward
t«) the result with largest hope and expectation.
Dr. Germaine said his faith strengthened mightily
with the firat glimpse of my face. It seemed to
him that heaven itself was interested in the saving
of this precious life. We know it is."

Mr. Gardenell could not speak ; too many were
the emotions filling his breast. He bowed his
head on the young man's shoulder and his tears
dropped freely. " I thank thee, Father," at last
he murmured ; and then, again, " Am I not rich
in the children which Thou hast given me?
Stanton," he said, by-and-by, " Herbert could not
do moi'e than this." ;:;:.,,;,, < / ?. . ,

" Why should he, sir ? Are we not both sons
of one Father?"

" Yea, and henceforth of two faUiera," replied
Mr. Gardenell brokenly. ^^ ■ . -

"Thank you, sir."

"And who shall thank you, my boy? Stanton,
did the doctor tell you why I was denied the privi-
lege of giving part of my life to feed the veins of
this one dearer to me than life?"

mummme mmn-

'«•',

Yes, sir," answered the young man, deeply
moved. " He told nie all, and also that for the
present you preferred your family should not uo
acquainted with the factt;."

" You can see my reasons," continued the ,.lder
g-»ntleman. "I was not myself iware of .^lo I nth
viL.il recen'.iy, thou ^h I ftured it for some time
pat>. It must not h«» hreathed."

" It will not be, sir."

' I am sure of that. Do you know what a load
yoii 'ift from my heart by your generous offer?
The doctors no doubt couhl have found somebody
to serve them for reward ; but it is such relief to
know no strange, no defiling blood will mingle
with hers. Henceforth v/ill you not be life of our
life, flesh of our flesh ? Whichever way the scales
of destiny may turn from this day I have another
son."

" I was bold enough to hope for that privilege
before this event occurred," said Stanton, trying
to speak lightly and thus hide his emotion.

" Had you ever a doubt ? " asked the gentleman
smiling.

" Not a serious one, to be truthful. Yet I have
made hast^i slowly and with some questioning.
Where his own heart is concerned one does not
always relish bf^ing loved for another's sake, even
if that other is his best friend," admitted the youth
ruefully.

■:- "Stanton," said Mr. Gardenell a while after, as
he was preparing to follow the young man's advice

lan, deeply
:at for the
»uid not iiO

d the ..Ider

»f .1.0 I nth
some time

(vhat a ]')ad
rous offer ?
;l somebody
eh relief to
vill mingle
I life of our
y the scales
ive another

at privilege

iton, trying

lion.

) gentleman

Yet I have
l^uestioniug.
16 does not

sake, even
d the youth

ile after, as
nan's advice

j^j

"SOMS OF 0.\K FA THE U."

and descf i.d '.0 the diniuj^-iooni, "Stanton, the doc-
tor xamined you carefully. You are sure this
experiment will not hari you?"

" I wisli it would. Then 1 might prove to you
how much 1 OTe you all. As it is I am suffering
%• ■ each ; the excess of blood in my vei.is endan-
gei-8 '".y brain," with comical seriousness. " And
iKdides being a positive boon to mo physically, it
ta just what I need from a student's standpoint.
You forget I am an aspiring M. D. with much to
learn. This experience will be of untold benefit.
Who knows, I may have to open my veins to some
poor African some day, and may bless God for
what I learn to-morrow."

The gentleman pressed the hand in his. " Y
are not sufferijig from lack of heart, Cartwright ,"
he said.

"Nor of selfishness," asserted the young p..ft ^
" The whole thing is a simple matter of peraca; J
gain, as far as I am concerned. There is only one
thing I stipulate," he continued, hand on the latch,
"and that is that Olive shall kiiow nothing of this
affair, at least not for some yeara to come."

"You can't imagine your cause needs Iwlstering
and fear she might render a biased judgment?"
said the father.

" It is best to guard against such a contingency.
Mark you," shaking his head, " this is not humil-
ity. I should like to have her know this, should
be delighted to have her feel indebted to me for
the rest of her natural life. But this is where I

'"*^.

HERBERT GARDKffBLL, JR.

exercise Helftleniiil ; I am determined old nature
sliall go uiydur," — wlnmsioally.

"Wliiit a seltlsh mortal he isl" said Mr. Gar.
denell, smiling. ** Nevertheless I promise," put-
ting liis Hnger to his lips.

Wlien Olive descended to the sitting-room some
time after, she found two gentlemen talking
quietly together, one with a moi-e restful look on
his face than he had carried for months. '* Stan-
ton has done him good," she thought.

*' Now that you have come, daughter," said this
one, " I think if Stanton will excuse me, I will
leave you to his care, and call on Miss French.
In my own selfish sori-ow 1 have quite neglected
her in her illness. I will try not to be gone long."

And two bright young faces accompanied him
to the door, and two paiiw of bright young eyes-
one brown, one l)lue — watchec his form out of
sight down the long street; and then two very
satisfied young people dropped into chairs and
gazed smilingly into each other's faooa.

,:• 'i!*'"

tl
SI

g
k

■t^

\A i

:>ld iiteture

1 Ml-. fS&r-
uiae," put-
room some
III tnlking
ul look on
M. '*Stan-

," said this
me, I will
U8 French.
) neglected
;one long."
panied him
ung eyes —
)rm out of
I two very
chairs and

^i f-

'*<•

AS ONK TUAT SXRVSTtJ.

'" CHAPTER VII.

AS ONE THAT 8BRVETH.

"Her loft hand put Mide the assaults of wrath,
And calmly broke in twain
The fiery shafts of pain,
- And rent the nets of passion from her path."

— WlUXail GULLKN BaTAHT.

M188 French was a sick parishioner. Her
pasts negligence had not beep noted; too truly
were his people sharing with him his honow to
find fault with his actions.

Seated in the invalid's boudoir answering ques-
tions, something said about the stmin on Olive
suggested to Mr Gardenell their need of help.
He stated the position of aflfuii-s, inquiring of hia
hostess if she knew where he could find an intelli-
gent woman to assist his daughter, for a while at
least, until he had leisure to look further.

Even as he spoke a young lady was ushered in-
to the room.

" Mr. Gardenell— Miss Erdley," said Mr. French,
in introduction. The gentleman was impressed
with the quiet beauty of the young face.

♦* I beg your pardon," said this stranger, « but I

UEHltKItT OAIIDJCNELL, Jit.

i ^

caught onougli of your couvorMiitioii, oh I entered
the room, to uudei-atiiml it8 drift. I tliink I can
servo you f<»r ii few \veek«, Mr. (iiirdenell, if you
can put up witii sucli sorvices a« I vnn render, I
am a fair housekeeper, and can copk ordinary
food."

" And lift burdens from weary hearts, I see,"
smiled the gentlenmn, gratefully. " Miss Erdley,
I do not know how to thank you sufliciently for
your kind offer. Nothing could be better. It
will l)e such a comfort to my daughter to have the
companionship of one so nearly her own age."
•' But I shall have to go homo each night," she
said. "My mother is something of an invalid,
and would need me then. I feel sure she will
spare me during the day."

To say the gentleman was relieved is speaking
mildly. He could not have hoped to procure so
refined a helper. After a few necessary prelimi-
naries he departed, leaving his card and address
with thin new friend, who promised to be with
them early the next morning.

" You have secured a jewel," said his hostess,
as she accompanied him to the door. " Lenore
Erdley is as pure and sweet as she is strong and
helpful. She is, moreover, a perfect lady, but cir-
cumstances make it necessary for her to earn her
living. She never did housework before. I was
amazed at hei ofPer."

Miss Erdley hei-self was somewhat amazed when
she found heraelf really eiigaged to do Mr. Garden-

u< I untured
tliiiik I call
anell, if you
I ruiider. I
?k ordiiiary

ftrts, I see,"

VIiHH Firdley,

fliuieiitly for

better. It

to have the

• own age."

niglit," she

an invalid,

;re she will

iH Hpeaking
» procure so
sary prelirai-
and address

to be with

his hostess,
r. " Lenore
1 strong and
iady, but cir-

to earn her
ifore. I was

imazed when
I Mr. Garden-

AH OSK THAT HRUVETtt.

oil's work. It had l)een the farthest thing from
her expeotations, when she presented hei-self at
Mi-s. French's door to inquire after her sick friend.

As Mi-s. French had informed her pastor, this
girl was a lady, both by birtli and education.
Though it would be hard to conceive how she could
bo hoi"self and ever be less, however born, or how-
ever educated.

Her mother, whose only child she was, had lieen
a woujan of the world, whose god was ftvshion.
A hello, a beauty, with every accessory of ease
and elegance at her command ; the petted wife of
an adoring husljivnd who gmtified her every whim,
Isal)elle Emei-sou Erdley had yet oeen a cold, self-
ish, ambitious woman, loving only hei-self.

Into her life of luxury came calamity. She was
widowed now, half sick, quite poor. Suddenly
everything had been swept away, husband, wealth,
health. She had become a weak, wretched, irri-
table invalid, never happy, never even ccmtent.

Faded, worn, a shadow of her former self, shrink-
ing from the eyes of everybody, ignoring her
friends; ashamed of her poverty, her surround-
ings ; at variance with her fellows and her Maker ;
she was determined to live an isolated life, with
no companionship but her child's.

This child, whose birth she had cursed, was all
this woman had left of her past. Little as she
had welcomed its coming, when once it was really
hers, it took on value. She had piide in its beauty,
its dress, its name; being hers it was therefore

!|failfe»^fei\iaW»(»»M»«

%ilp

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

ati Emeraon ; being fair it was therefoie endurable.
She named her babe to suit herself — small mat-
ter to the father whose joy was not in its name
but itself. Lenore Emeraon Erdley ! Such a big "^
name for so small a thing.

The father called his treasui-e Lee, for short ; so
did her school friends later. The child liked it
better than he full name. But abridgments
were vulgar in her mother's estimation: lier ,.
daughter was always Lenore to her, often Leu ore
Emei-son.

At fn-st Mrs. Erdley's friends attempted to ,
break down the reserve she had built about her-
self ; they sought her with words of sympathy and
condolence. But she refused hei-self to their en-
entreaty ; left their ring unanswered, and when
some, bolder than othei-s, succeeded in reaching
her presence, she coldly left the room. Finally
they left her unmolested, and, apparently, forgot-
ten. Her child shared largely in her fate.

It was a dreary life for a child to live, but Le-
nore lived it and prospered, in spite of it. She soon
found that her mother was jealous of the few
friends slie made ; wivs determined that no school-
mate, however humble, should visit her. She was ;
seldom allowed to visit any one. So she became
slow, at last, in forming friendships she could not
foster. The girls would only misunderstand her,
she thought, if she sought their favor and never
returned their kindnesses. Only a few of her
mother's old-time friends kept her iu remembrance,

I'o endurable.
— small mat^
in its name
Such a big^

for short ; so
hild liked it
abridgments
mation : lior
often Leiu>re

itterapted to
.t about her-
ympathy and
: to their en-
d, and when

in reaching
am. Finally
ently, forgo t-

fate.

live, but Le-
it. She soon
of the few
at no school-
er. She w.as
I she became
ihe could not
derstand her,
or and never
few of her
remembrance,

*<«:.

'm.>-

AS ONE THAT SERVETU.

and occasionally she called on one of them, as
she had this afternoon.

Many girls would have come ■«p sour and mo-
rose in so uncongenial an atmosphere. But this
was far from the case with Lenore Erdley. Quiet
she was, modest as a violet, gentle as softest sum-
mer zephyr, but neither shrinking nor bashful.

In spite of her life of isolation she loved all hu-
man-kind, and was tenderly interested in the lives
lived sill about her. She could not enjoy the com-
panionship of her equals, neither could she draw
as closely as she wished to those who were not.
But she had the faculty of noting and sharing in
the pleasure, as well as sorrow of every sentient
thing. Her humble home In-ought her in contact
with humble people, with simple joys and griefs.
And her simple heart was interested in it all. To
be sure her mother frowned on any seeming friend-
liness with wiiat she termed '• such common peo-
ple." But Lenore felt they were common people
themselves, and no one could restrain a sympa-
thetic look, a smile or nod. And all the neigh-
bors came to know and love and feel a certain
pride in " the little lady."

Little by little their small patrimony — the rem-
nant left to them of what was once opulence —
melted away. There Miis nothing left to them
but this maiden's hands — those soft, white, little
hands.

In vain the mother argued, wept, plef.ded. A
daughter of here toil like the vulgar p«op!e about

■a \\

HERBERT OARDENELL, JR.

them ! There was nothing else to do ; the woman's
unreason was madness. It was beg or work, and
there could be no choice between such evils.

It is true Lenore was educated, and capable of
teaching. It ia possible that in time she could
have obtained a position in some school. But she
had few friends and no time to waste. Necessity
was upon them before she was aware, so success-
fully had her mother hidden their circumstances. -
. By chance she heard of an ui>town milliner,
one of whose girls was taken sick, and at once she
applied to fill the vacancy.

" Have you ever done anything of the kind ?"
asked the puzzled Madame, taking in at a glance
the dainty apparel and ladylike appearance of the

applicant.

" I trimmed the hat I wear," was the modest

reply.

" I will try you," was the decisive answer, and
Lenore Erdly took her place among American
working-women.

She soon became a favorite in the establishment,
in spite of her reserve. Madame found her taste
•exquisite, and paited with her reluctantly, when,
at the end of several weeks, her old girl returned.

» I shall need you later, no doubt," she said, as
she paid her. "I will give you the first vacancy
should you desire it. Most of my girls depend on
their wages for their support, or I would let some
one go and keep you."

And Lenore smiled this side and sighed that

•.»«^

be woman's
r work, and
evils.

[ capable of
) sbe could
il. But sbo
Necessity
, so success-
iinstances.
vrn milliner,
at once she

the kind ?"

at a glance

nance of the

the modest

answer, and
g American

itablishment,
md her taste
:antly, when,
irl returned.
" she said, as
first vacancy
•Is depend on
juld let some

I sighed that

Ah ONE THAT aXRVETH.

Bide of tlie office door. Did Madame think that

^ she was working for axnusement or to satisfy some
fi-eak ? Were not two depending on her labors ?

That was yesterday. She had prayed much
since then, and trusted too, which sometimes is
better. Spmehow amid these unpropitious sur-
roundings, this girl had found Christ— or He had

( found her — and she was ripening into a peculiarly
noble Christian woman. With no helpers but

;, God and His word, and the occasional droppings
of the prayer-room and sanctuary, she was devel-

i; opiug virtues that many might envy, and holding
a closeness of fellowship with her Saviour that
few more favored attain.

She had wondered a little just how her prayers
were to 1x3 answered — wondeied without a shadow
of worry, and with a conscious thrill of gratitude,
so sure and so near was the coming aid. She
knew Mr. Gardenell by reputation, be was the
beloved pastor of these, her friends. She had
heard him preach. The moment she heard his
words, she wjis certain he needed her, and God
had sent him there for her. That assured, she did
not question what next.

Of courae her mother object/cd: "A menial,
Lenore," she said, "a menial, a servant and to a
nobody, a common preacher I you, an Emerson,
with your social birthright I "

The girl ordy smoothed the thin hair from the
wrinkled brow, wrinkled, not with age, but care —

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

• ■ /■

Rnd placing a kiss between the two troubled eyes,

answered gently :

" Whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall
be servant of all — I am among you as he that
serveth."

"Why will you quote Scripture to me, Lenore,
when you know it simply tortures me ? "

" I beg your pardon, mamma. It is meat and
drink to me, and I forget. But how can any one
humble himself, mother, since Christ has so
stooped ? "

" We are in the Avorld, the world, Lenore, and
are judged by its standards. The Bible is obso-
lete, in fact if not in seeming. Who lives by it to-
day? a few feeble folk, like you. The world, tho
cold, heartless world, what does it care for its pre-
cepts, or foi' you or me?"

She muttered awhile longer to herself, and then
gaid impatiently : " Get me a lew grains of mor-
phine, Lenore, just a few, I must forget my mis-
ery. You always manage to upset my poor
nerves," she went on fretfully, " and they must
have some support."

" Not just yet, mamma dear," replied the girl
cheerfully, though a look of pain contrt\cted her
brows. "We are going to have supper now,
something nice, something you love, guess
what?"

" It isn't pine-apple, Lenore, it can't be that.

I've wanted it so much, I've really dreamed of it."

«* Just that^ and it's a beauty. Don't you want

Umimm^'.^mt

ibled eyes,

ifest, shall
is he that

le, Leiiore,
»

meat and
n any one
»t has so

enove, and
le is obso-
es by it to-
world, tho
for its pre-

F, and then
ins of mor-
jt my mis-
my poor
they must

ed the girl
itrticted liei'
pper now,
ove, guess

I't be that,
imed of it."
t you want

AS ONE THAT SERVETII.

to watch me s'ice it, and then here is some of the
nicest sponge-cake you ever tasted,"

"Emma French las not dared to send mo of
her charity?" cried the ,voman in alarm.

" No, ;ndeod, not ulie. I am the culprit, little
motner," bustling around and talking cheerily
while the table wisi being laid and drawn to the
woman's side. A:1 this in the hope of helping
her forget her misery, and tlie remedy for which
of late she called inctssantly.

The use of morphine was no new thing to Mi-s.
Erdley. To her daughter's knowledge she had
used it more or less ever since her husband's
death. While under its influence was tlio only
time she was ever bright or happy, and it was only
then that she seemed interested in othens. Wlieu
quite a child Lenore had been sent for it, though
always with a note or prescription. She was still
expected to furnish it, only in increasing quanti-
ties, quantities that of late aroused her gravest
fears.

This girl's recollections of the past were very
vivid. Young as she was when her faihoi died,
she cherished his memory with tender adoration.
Children are natural character-readers. She often
recalled her fathsr's grave, not to say giieved,
face when sent from his wife's side, with some
stinging remark. The child realized that th^
affection the man lavished so unstintedly wa^
accepted as her mother's prerogative, not her
delight. Yet it was never wanting.

witnu^'rm'ss

^E**-f«*-K

HERBERT QARDENELL, JV

He was some years older than liia wife, and
of a gentle, retiring disposition. There were days
when he would come to tbt? nui-sery and lifting
his little one to his bosom walk the floor with her
folded close. And Lenore knew even then, in a
dim, childish fashion, that her mother's unkind-
ness had driven him from her side, to seek in his
child the satisfaction h<. heart craved.

His death had been very sudden. He had been
poorly for some days, but not seriously so. One
day he remained in bed, and his daughter would
never forget the gray look on the quiet face when
she went to kiss him good-night.

She went immediately to her mother and
begged her to go to papa, " he looks so dread-
fully," she pleaded.

" You will take yourself off to nurse, Lenoro, I
will attend to your fatlier at my pleasure," was
the haughty reply.

Ah me, what a change between the speaker
then and now ! The next morning when the
child awoke it was to learn her father was dead.

Terrible were the days that followed. Mi-s.
Eidley's agony was something ur. tpeakable. She
shut herself into her room, *^vsn her little daugh-
ter only seeing her occasionally. But those who
caught a glimpse of her face were filled with con-
sternation. Lenore clung to her, kissing her
hands and her lips, begging her not to die too, for
the pale, haggard face was suggestive of nothing
but death.

f 1

wife, and
were days
tad lifting
t with her
then, in a
8 unkind-
eek in his

) had been

80. One

iter would

face when

)ther and
so dread-

, Lenoro, I
jure," was

le speaker
when the
'as dead.
ved. Mrs.
able. She
tie daugh-
those who
i with con-
iasing her
die too, for
of nothing

AS ONE THAT SERVETIL M

People wondered. They had not supposed this
woniaii so devoted to her liusband. This proud,
dis(hunful, selfish votary of fiushion hencefoith
retirfid from the world and refused to be com-
forted.

Later it was found her husband had died bank-
rupt. Then she sold her fine residence and its
elegant furnishings, and with a small annuity,
hers before marriage, as her only support, she
moved into a few rooms, and died to the world
that had known her.

As Lenore grew to young womanhood she won-
dered much on that clouded past. What caused
her father's death? Wi\s it a broken heart?
Had her mother known of his liabilities, his com-
ing failure ? had she upbraided him for his lack
of success and killed him with her unkiindness?
That patient, deathly face, and her s'.otlar's
haughty one, the night before he died, ^ , . ted
her. And something in the manner of her
mother ofttimes, an uneasiness, a dread, an almost
terror, an evident remorse, wakened in her dtvugh-
ter's bosom fears she dared neither cherish nor
name. Of one thing she was certain, something
beside pride had made her mother a recluse.

But" no word of those other days was ever
spoken by either woman. Patiently, tenderly,
the daughter bore with this wreck of life, deny-
ing her no good thing she could obtain, reluct-
antly administering that without which the exile

UKliBKRT OAliDENKLL, JR.

felt she could not live, and with which life was
a coiistiiiit (Iciith.

For Leiioie nover got over the honor it gave
her to see l»er mother under the power of tliis
drug. The long Htupor, the ghiistly fivce, the fol-
lowing exultancy and pliantsisy of joy were to her
alike hideous.

That it was a deadly poison r t only to her
mother's bidy and mind, but to her soul, thia
youi.'g girl knew. She had sought most despep*
ately in every way to bieak up the habit. She
had evf;;i consulted a physician. In vain. The
woman clung to this idol with the tenacity of
despair ; she would not be robbed of her only
solace. She was alike deaf to appeal and reason,
and Lenore fell back on her only hope — pmyer—
and waited.

-v;

\.^

WITH THE DOCTORS.

''-■'ilJ-A;^

>/ CHAPTER Vm.

WITH THE DOCTORS. i ' ,■

" li'H her sport and pleasure to flout me 1
-v'.. To spurn, and scorn, and scout mo I

But all 1 I've a notion it's naught but play,
it And that, say what she will, and feign wlia' she may,

■' She can't well >'- witiiout me." '

—Thomas Westwood.

"How is Miss Muffet this morning?"

" Pretty sleepy, 1 thank you."

" Does she need any assistance, such as I can
offer?"

" Yes, if you are an excellent coffee and muffin
maker."

" Tiy me and see."

" Did you know I had a helper coming, Stan-
ton? Miss Lenore Erdley. Papa says she is a
lady in reduced circumstances. Are we not
fortunate ? "

"Very. Only I feel unappreciated. My valu-
able services will no longer be needed after this
new-comer appears."

" Don't air your ignorance, you foolish boy.
You will be just as much in demand."

" Ah, indeed ! very glad to hear it."

UEHbEHT UAHDENELL, JR.

" Listen ! I slutll not want MLss Erdley to know

^•: an ignominuH I iim. You are to fuiniHh
BCliedulcs for dinners, and advice as to tlie cook-
ing of various dishes, or any other inforuuition she
may require of ine."

"Bunch of deceit! Am I expected to nhold
yoii in such iniquity? Kemen)l)er the dignity of
my position, I am a minister. Ah, theio goes the
bell. Answer it, please, Ollie, as the call-hoy,
footman, or whatever you please to call him, haa
his big apron on, and is acting as cook."

It was Miss Erdley, Olive was charmed at the
first glance, and so was Stanton, though he felt
rather in the dark as to this stranger's opinion of
a young gentleman with an apron strung about
his neck like a bib, both sleeve:) roiled u^t, and
both hands white with flour.

It was a vision of life such as Miss Erdley had
never even conceived. But something in her had
affinity to the same, and they were cordial friends
and co-workera immediately.

It was the last morning Stanto. was seen in the
kitchen for some time. He left the girls with the
dishes after prayers and disappeared, neither did
he answer tVio summons to lunch. Olive, discon-
solately, plied her father with so many questions
that he wa,s forced to tell her so nuicli at least:
" The doctoi-s have taken Stanton into their
councils."

" Stanton 1 why papa what can he do?"

"That remains to be seen," answered papa

UWii.

y to know
() furniHh
llie cook-
iUition she

to »)hold
Jignity of
I goes tlie
ciiU-boy,
[ liim, has

led at the
h )ie ftilt
ipinioa of
iig about
[ u^, uud

idley liad
n her had
ul friends

;en in the
I with the
jither did
e, dipcon-
questions
at least :
nto their

ired papa

^^y

;r,.,s;

WITH THE DOCTOHS.

quietly, but something in hia heart was singing just
the same, for Dr. Oermaine had wrung his hand as
he left the iiouse, whispering:

"The beginning argucH well, (iardcnell. The
countenance and pulse have both improved under
the operation. I've taken Cartwright to Herbert's
room. He needs to be quiet for a while, he'll be
all right in an hour or two."

At the end of one hour Mr. Gardenell opened
his son's chamber door and looked at the youth, as
dear as a son, resting upon the bed.

"How do you feel, Stanton?" •

" Only a little giddy. I'm not used to it yet,
I'll be all right presently, and it's going to 1x3 a suc-
cess. I did not lose consciousness so far but that I
heard the Professor's Hhank God' and Dr. Ford's
low: 'The circulation seems undisturbed yet» the
pulse improves.'"

At the late dinner-hour Stanton appeared. He
seemed much himself. A trifle paler, perhaps, but
not enough so to attract attention or to escape a
" good scolding " as Olive called her after dinner
brush with the young man.

" Stanton Cartwright, I thought I could depend
upon you."

" That's phat I thought mesilf, mum," with ut-
most gravity and inimitable brogue. ?i ,-^ ;y . ,

"Are you not my servant?" ' .."

" Till death and afther, sure."

" Behave yourself and be sensible. I want an
account of how you have spent this day."

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s'.r.-^'**^-^'"**''^''' •'■''■'■"='* '

lIEliBERT GAUDENELL, JR.

The young gentleman lengthened his face comi-
cally, drew lumself to his full height, and put on a
serious, thoughtful air.

"Let me see. I rose sometime after sunrioe;
bathed and dressed myself; descended to the
kitchen and made coffee and muffins for breakfast ;
shook hands with Miss Erdley; ate more or

less "

" Stanton Cartwright, why will you be so absurd?
Do I not know all that?"

" It's a part of my day," answered the gentle-
man meekly.

" A very small part," severely. " Why have I
misyed you ever since breakfast ? "

" Because Iwas not here."

She stamped her little foot impatiently. " Why
were you not here ? "

" Important business, Miss Gardenell."

" Indeed ! Reports differ. Papa said you were
with the doctoi-s."

" Which is also true."

"What did they do? why should they need
you? Is mamma much better? Papa appeara so
relieved yet says ' wait, we must have patience,' to
all my questioning. Do you really believe she
will recover, Stanton?"

" I do indeed, ray heart is full of hope, and you
must be as happy and glad as you can be, Olive,
and thank ' Our Fatliei-. ' "

Only one situated as was Mr. Gardenell can
estimate the anxiety with which he waited the

face conii-
d put on a

31' sunriae;

led to the

breakfast ;

more or

so absurd?

the gentle-

'^hy have I

y. "Why

I."

iyou were

they need

appeal's so

satience,' to

believe she

pe, and you

n be, Olive,

irdenell can
waited the

«9M!

'fV'^f^'^fv''T'?'* .''/^^"'"^'

iipil.Pi.i'1

WITH THE DOCTORS.

doctors' verdict the night after the operation liad
taken phice. Only one long divided between hope
and fear can metvsuro his relief when that verdict
was favorable.

Dr. Gerraaine visited the patient several times
during the day and again last thing at night. "It
works like a charm," he said, looking the satisfac-
tion that filled his breast. " If another injection
proves as successful, I think I can predict certain
recovery. Gardenell, under God, you owe a good
deal to young Cartwright."

" I do, indeed," was the reply. " He has been
for years like one of my family, henceforth he is a
beloved son."

" He expects his reward," smiling.

" And would do as he has if he did not. He
is unwilling Olive should learn his part in her
mother's recovery lest it affect her decision."

" Nonsense I that was a foregone conclusion long
since, or my eyes deceive me. He is a grand fel-
low. I can't help feeling in this case that the
equableness of the man's temper, his quiet hope-
fulness, were somehow communicated to the pa-
tient and helped produce such marked results.
Olive ought to congratulate herself. Good-night."
" Good-night."

" Go to bed and sleep for once," added the doctor,
pushing his head in at the door for another word.
"You will need to husband your strength until
Yensie begins to recover. Now the nuree serves as
well as you and better. Once more good-night."

'**

•'1

- J-: siy5ShS*af>? Ai>J*='-^

lUJk

HERliEUr GARDEN ELL, JR.

The next day was bright and clear, a day to
drive away fogs of whatever sort. Olive's voice,
so long silent, was the fii-st thing that greeted her
lover's ears as he wended his way kitchenward.
Lenore was before him, his services unneeded.

"Isn't it too beautiful for anything," said Olive,
greeting him with a shining face. "I even feel
like forgiving you this morning and offering you
the privilege of a walk. It is too pleasant to stay
at home when one can frame an excuse for a tramp.
The spring always gets inside of me."

" Me too," answered Stanton. " I wish I could
accompany you, Ollie. I will to-morrow, if you
will accept my excuses for to-day."

Her face fell. " Another engagement, I svi\)-
pose," she said pettishly.

" I am sorry to say it is, you forget the doctora
will be here to-day."

" And you forget they will be here to-morrow."

" But I make a previous engagement with you
now. Puss, just as I made one yesterday with them.
I shall keep them both."

She felt perverse. " I make no promises," she
said, turning to the window, " I might not keep
them. Neither will I give up a pleasure at hand
for one that may never come."

" I wouldn't," he answered imperturbably, her
small ire rather amusing him. "Go to-day by all
means, you need the change, the air. I will see
about to-morrow."

' *

fcV, a day to
iive'a voice,
greeted her
itclienward.
needed.
' said Olive,
I even feel
offering you
isaiit to stay
for a tramp.

vish I could
rrow, if you

nent, I su^)-

tlie doctora

to-morrow."
it with you
Y with them.

jmises," she
ht not keep
ure at hand

urbably, her

;o-day by all

I will see

WITH THE DOCTORS.

"You have great assurance, Mr. Cartwright,
your abilities in some directions are astonishing."

"Aren't they, though?" laughing, "Honor
bright, OUie, did you ever see a fellow just like
me?"

" I am sure I don't wish to see one."

" Just right," complacently. " Another would
bo one too many. I am resigned to being the one
and only g',ntleman of the sort of your acquaint-
ance. I think I am rather fine looking, don't
you?"

The tone of his voice, the way in which he
surveyed himself in the mirror opposite were
irresistible. Olive laughed, he had gained his
point.

"I wish you would be sensible occasionally,
Stanton Cartwright," she said. " And I trust
you do not think I mistake your antics for wit."

" What is the matter hei-e, this morning ? "
asked Mr. Gardenell, appearing at the door.
" One would fancy Raymond was at home and
receiving one of his periodical lectures."
* " If you please, sir, it's only me, sir, and not
Raymond," answered Stanton meekly. And the
gentleman laughingly lod the young man to his
seat at table, tendering him his sympathy.

" You must neither aid nor abet him, papa," said
Olive, "or I shall count it treason. He utterly
refuses to accompany me on a tramp this morning,
though I have condescended to invite him."

" I refused with thanks," said Stanton.

J
1

"^'JLJ^t

'lji::^h,^.

.A- '^•'^•A^k:--0

<iC«i

nERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

" Even thanks are poor sauce to a disappoint-
ment," answered the girl gayly, restored to her
usual humor. " Pai)a knows I wa« never conten';
to take anything but the best."

" Hear, hear 1 " applauded the youth. " I leave
it to the judgment of this honorable company if
two tramps are not better than one tramp."

"That's according to the character of the
tramps," interposed the elder gentleman humor-
ously. "We've had tramps call here whom we
would much prefer should not be duplicated."

Olive clapped her hands. "Caught in your
own trap, sir fox ! " she cried. " And perhaps

papa refers to a certain tramp "

" Who already this morning has repudiated all
desire for the distinction pf a double in your
estimation, as you can bear witness, fair lady,"
retorted Stanton with a glance that sent Olive's
eyes to her plate, while a flush dyed her cheeks.
And that provoking young man looked as if he
enjoyed her confusion.

" I hope you wil^ttike a walk tliis morning,
Olive," said her fat^later. " Th* very taste of
this air is refreshing. Call on Mary Dunbar or
Alice Whipple or some of your friends. You've
been housed so long they will hardly know you.
Don't hurry back. Miss Erdley can get our lunch
without your help and you can lunch down street.
We shall not want to see your face before dinner-
hour."

"And be all day away from the only member

in * l ljM Wl l l L'HUIIJlS ' W Ii t'''

disappoint-
ved to her
i'er content,

" I leave
company if
np."

«r of the
lan humor-
whora we
cated."
it in your
ud perhaps

jUdiuted all
le in your
fair lady,"
sent Olive's
her cheeks.
:ed as if he

is morning,
'ery taste of
r Dunbar or
ds. You've
Y know you.
it our lunch
down street,
jfore dinner-

>nly member

-1

mTH THE DOCTORS.

of my family I have left ? O you designing papa,
I believe you want to get rid of me," cried Olive,
unconsciously coming nearer the truth thiin she
dreamed. For, aside from Mr. Gardenell's desire
to see his daughter cheered and refreshed, he felt
it best she should be out of the house until after
this second and last operation was over. And
Mr. Cartwright endoreed his policy.

There was nothing very dangerous in this shar-
ing his blood with another; and Stanton Cart-
wright had no exalted ideas of his heroism or
devotion. It was to him simply a matter of duty,
over which he had not a second's hesitation when
once he found he was in a condition to render the
Bervioe. It was as much a shrinking from Olive's
gratitude and reverence as any fear that she
would consider it a reason for regarding him with
special favor that led him to hide from her the
facta. He hoped she regarded him with special
favor without any such reason.

He was a noble, manly fellow, used to taking
life in a very real and serious fashion, but with
a vein of humor and a natural cheerfulness that
would always bring the best side of a thing upper-
most ; and tend to lighten deprivation and hard-
ship.

Reared in poverty, strong and brave by n.iture,
he courted rather than feared sacrifice and danger.
The ambition of his life was to preach Christ in
the regions beyond, where the evangel of the
Kingdom had not yet penetrated. To this he had

't:i/^^X'b^

IIEIiBERT GARDENEI^L, JR.

unreservedly dedicated his youth and strength,
llext to Ills devotion to his Master and liis work
\\as the mighty love he possessed for Olive Gar-
d^nell. Her imago had held his deepest heart
riiiice his early college days, and lie was sure he
could never call any other woman, wife.

He had never said this to her. She always
seemed shy of any special approach. They had
been much together ; not only in the past when
he and Herbert were chums, and he spent weeks
of his vacation at New York orBloomingdale, but
also in these later years since Raymond Gardenell
had married his sister and Stanton was regarded
very much like a member of the family.

It was hard to divine Olive's feeling towards
him. She treated him much as she did Herbert,
her favorite brother. When they were at college
together she divided her notes pretty evenly be-
tween them ; and now that they had graduated
still added postscripts to her brother's letters and
even went so far on occasions as to honor this
friend with epistles whose size was one of Ray-
mond's standing jokes.

That she had more than a sister's regard for
him, or that he could teach her to have, he never
seriously doubted. She was such a ahild yet in
her own estimation and that of her friends ; was
80 entrenched in the love of her own, so petted
and adored by brothers and parents, that it was
hard for him to talk to her of love, or seek to lead
her into new paths.

.^L.

!?SfS

(1 strength.
I liis work
Olive Giir-
3pest heart
ii3 sure he

5he alw.iys
They had
past when
pent weeks
ngdale, but
i Gardenell
as regarded

ng towards
id Herbert,
5 at college
' evenly be-
graduated
letters and
honor this
)ne of Ray-
regard for
3, he never
hild yet in
•lends ; was
», so petted
;hat it was
teek to lead

WITU THE DOCTORS.

When he made the slightest approach to such
subjects she was either unconscious or coy ; misun-
derstanding all he said, either really or in seeming,
or shrinking from liitn as if ho had made her afraid.'
On the other hand, as a friend, especially as Her-
bert's chosen companion, she was open to all his ad-
vances, ready to bestow on him many little privi-
leges, and show him many favors. Yet, it must be
confessed, never so many as since bin coming at
this opportune time to their encouragement and
succor.

He had come to her at this time on purpose to
open his heart : to learn the extent of her feeling's
towards him. He must know whether, in the near
future, when he expected to sail away to some far-
off land, he could take with him the choice of his
heart. He would assure himself to-morrow, so he
said to himself, as he watched the maiden turn up
the street that spring morning.

Aside from the faintness or giddiness, which
soon passed away, the only inconvenience Stanton
felt from the operation of the day before was a
soreness of the arm, where the radial artery had
been isolated. It felt stiff and tender, and hn
found himself almost unconsciously favoring it,
shrinking from the near contact of anything.

To-day there was to be another incision and a
largfer quantity of blood conveyed to the patient's
body. Yesterday the amount had not exceeded
twelve ounces, to-day it was to be at least eighteen.
So slowly and equably had the fluid been trans-

UEHDEin GARUKNELL, ./«.

foneil to tlio litiiut of tho sinking woiniin, that no
(lisiistioiis disturlMnco of tlio circuliitiou had ii'v
companiiMl it ; and it was hoi^d the added HUpi)ly
would put hm- not only Ixijond present danger,
but well up tho Hcalo of j)robal)lo recovery. You
can SCO whv both Mr. (rardenell and Stanton Cart-
wright niiglit wish Olive out of the house until
this last expiniment was over.

But Olive did not stay away long. She found
only one of the fricnids she called on at home, and,
much as she enjoyed tho air and motion, was yet
conscious of a certain uneasiness, as if she was
nefTlei'ting duty. After a short ramble she turned
homewiird and reached the front door to find her
latch-key missing. Stanton had forgotten to re-
turn it.

She would not ring and disturb Lenore at her
work. She went around to the side door and en-
tered unperceivcd. As she went out to leave her
cloak and hat, a letter on the hall table met her
eyes. It was for l:er and in Herbert's handwrit-
ing ; he must be better. She would take it right
to his room, among his Iwoks nnd lielongings, and
open it there. No one knew she had come ; they
could eat lunch without her. She wouhl cuddle
down on Hervie's couch, and read it and cry over
it if she pleased, undisturbed by any one.

She went up noiselessly over the stairs. Papa
and the nurse would be engaged at this hour.
The doctors were probably in her mother's room.
She turned into the side corridor and paused. An

f ■■ I i p," ; I ',1. 1

-«-T^FE .|J i l »i -^; T"'"^^^

.^,— i- .M-^ 'f ii ry^^ 7

■•T,

»r/r/; r//;? doctors.

m, that no
oil hiul 1)'!-
,dod 811^1)1/
jnt drtiigcr,
very. You
Hilton Ciirt-
iuu8e until

She found
home, iind,
on, was y«t
if she was
I she tiiiiuid
to find her
itteii to 10-

nore at her
oor and on-
to leave hor
bio met lier
8 handwrit-
iiko it liglit
ingings, and
come ; thoy
iu\(\ cuddle
,nd cry over
ne.

tairs. Papa
t this hour,
ther's room.
jaused. An

uiit'XiKM'tcd iiifflit fjreeted her eyes. Ilor father
8Ui)i)ortiiig Stanton Cartwright, whose face ai.d
lips wore hioodless, hia eyes half-clo.stid— supimrt-
ing anil h'liding him towards Hoil)ort's room.

Slie did not move, hardly hreatl-ed, until tin
d.ior closed after them. Then Hho ran swiftly to
her own chamher, shut and locked the door, and
flung liersolf on the lx;d.

What did it mean? What had happened?
Ought she to have asked? Ought she to have
shown hoi-self, offered hor assistance? Impulsive
as she was hy nature, she knew not what had
withheld hor from rushing forward, hogging to
know the worst, sohhing out hor terror and sur-
prise. Wliat really detained her was the hardly
acknowledged realization that they would not
wish her to know; that Stanton Cartwright and
licr father were concealing something from her.
She lay some minutes, filled with contending emo-
tions, for the time forgetful of the letter in her
liand.

" Dear old Ilerhert ! " she sohhed at last, " you
always trusted me. If I could only have you I
would be content." Then she opened her precious
epistle, and read :

" My Ai'PLE-BLosi^oM :

How I miss you ! Tlie perfume coming into my
windows this minute reminds me of you t as also
the pink and white beauty, recently brought from
the orchard, and looking at me from the vase on

■ ■ ; ■ ■ ' » *■ yjwf

I iiiii p i wi fnysi^fcl

lIKHttERT GAIWKSELL, J II.

my tal)l«. I iim hungry for ii Higlit of your pre-
ciouH face.

You need not worry ft bit over mc, or let Riijy-
body else do so. I ivni not very Hi«k, or I conld
not write, iiiid lun iniiirovinij,' fast, as Aunt .lesMio
would tell you were hIio writing. You can't im-
aj,Miio tho kindtiesH of n»y nui-ses. Kven you and
dear inaniina eould not wait upon nie i\w*.' a« idu-
ously aiul tenderly.

" i suppose Stanton is with you by this time. I
can't help envying you all A letter of his litis
been forwarded to me fiom my last stopping plae.>,
saying he «'xpc.eted to start for New York in another
week.' lie ought (tertainly to Ihj there. Be good to
him for my sake, blessed old fellow 1 "

Tell liiiii to take my ])lace, as fully as possible,
and give liim a big hug for me. Don't leave papa
out. or precious mamma.

OUie, I begin to think mamma must be very ill,
since she hiw not written mo one little word.
Even tho languor she suftered so much from last
year eould not have prevented that.

" But don't tell her I said so for the world ;
but, like tho dearest little si.ster man ever had,
which you are, wiito nie a truthful statement of
her condition. Aunt Jessie has looked so grave
at every mentif)n of her name, spite of attempted
cheerfulness, that I a»n sure there is something
lield back. It will not harm nic to know the
worst. I can trust (}od, and I am sure He can
do as much without me as if I were by her side.
If I had not been able to trust Him, how
wretched my fears would have made me.

" I have not questioned Auntie or Fred. It
would only grieve them unnecessarily, sinee they
deem it a part of their duty to keep me in igno-
rance. But my Olive knows me better. We bo-

<■"«» .yvinu i .iai. m;^. n^m f f

WITH TlIK DOCTORS.

of your pre-

, or li't niiy-
:, or I could
Aunt Je.HHio
on can't iin-
IvL'ii you and
nu)'*/ lis idu-

UiiH time. I
r of IiIh lias
Dpliinjj place,
Ilk in anotlier
. Be good to

y as possible,
I't leave papa

st Ih? very ill,

little word.

uch from last

r tlie uorld ;

lan ever liad,
stateniciit of

ikcd so grave
of attempted
is sometliing
to know tlie
sure lie can

3 by lier side.

4t Him, bow
me.
or Fred. It

ily, since tbey

p me in igno-

3tt€r. We be-

lieve in knowing tbo woi-st and fearing notbing,
Bweeibea-t, since (lod lives and loves.

"I must not write anotber word. Kea has
opened tbe door, ami is sbaking bcr bcml omm-
ouslv, inquiring if tbe docitor gave me permission.
As if I c()uld wait for tbat beforu writing to my
own little sister. I wisb you knew Hca. Slie is
almast as sweet as anotli«r little maiden I know.
Sbe wants to see you, and sball, some day.

»(Jood-bye. kiss darling mamma over and
over for me, and wben I -.me you sbuU bavo

your sbare from „

^ " BuoTHER TIeiiukut.

"P. S.— Ilea is my pet name for Fredrica.
Tbat name does not suit bcr, neitber does Fred ;
sbe is a brigbt, sweet girl-woman, like you, 1 rin-
cess, so I call her Kea. Again, good-bye.

j- ^r ^ ' . '«' , ff g'. ' /- ^? ^ '-;' ^

IOC

UERBEBT GARDEJSELL, Jit.

CHAPTER IX.

IS IT A CALL?

" The greatest luxuries of life are not possessions, but ex-
pei'ieucos. 'J'he higher a man gets in his being, the less covet-
ous he becomes for something to own, and the more ambitious
he is for wealth within."

— Sunday School Times.

"Surely there may be delay without frustration."

— Geokgk MacDonald.

Olive kissed her precious letter and cried over
it a good deal ; because she felt so mixed up gen-
eral! / )ier feelings must have expression.

" I'm not worthy of his love, or of anybody's,"
she said. " Stanton is liis best friend, and I've
been almost hateful to him because he has a
secret; and — and I've almost felt hard towards
papa, too. I wish I was better. If Stanton
dies " — lip trembling — " then what shall I do ?
He looked as if he was dying," and down went
the brown head, and the rain fell copiously.

She felt better after the shower, and took to
her Bible and her knees. The long strain of
months was telling on her body, and she blamed
her soul. It was little matter where her need

MiPiii

li.

IS IT A CALL t

101

iession8, but ex-
, the less covet-
more ambitions

;hool Times.

ion."

tfAcDoNALD.

id cried over
ixed up gen-
lon.

.anybody's,"
ikI, and I've
>e he has a
lard towards

If Stanton
shall I do?
I down went
ously.

and took to
\g strain of
I she blamed
re her need

lay, since she hau found her medicine, fitted as
well to body as soul, to soul as body; Earth's
cure-all, Heaven's gift !

At the feet of Jesus she left her anxiety, her
perplexity. He was Herbert's Saviour, Stanton's,
hei- father's, her mother's. His promise was for
each of them as for her. "My God shall supply
all your need."

It was quite late that afternoon when she des-
cended to the sitting-room, and with quiet heart
and serene face lay down ou the couch. She
heard the door open, a moment after, and knew,
without looking up, who it was entered the room.
"Are you asleep, Olive?" The hushed voice
could not have disturbed lightest slumber.

"No, I am only resting," opening iier eyes
slowly, and with almost a shudder. How would
he look? She could not foiget the ghastly sight
of a short time ago. Could she believe that sight
now ? Had she dreamed it all ? Here was Stan-
ton Cartwright, her old friend, exactly himself,
unless, indeed, with the exception of a slight
pallor, such as she had noticed yesterday at

dinner-time.

He smiled as her eyes met his, and sat dov/n in
an easy-chair. Did she imagine it or did he guard
his arm as he seated himself ? She felt like a per-
son who has suffered from an hallucination and
hardly knows what is fact or fiction.

"What is the matter, Stanton?" she asked.
" Are you sick ? "

i g WIW I I I Wf t V-ll

y%Jf>^^_\liiy^!:■^ ' V^v^J^^[ia. t Jn^ ^t ^ ' »j ^ ! f n ' mu ' ^Mf»^mi\^ ' f^jfi^!^%iit),« ^ ^K

102

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

" Me ! " in utmost astonishment. " What a ques-
tion ! "

" You look pale, and you did yesterday at this
time. I'm afraid you are not quite well, and you
act as if your arm was sore." She was regarding
him with keen, scrutinizing eyes.

"It is a little stiff," he admitted carelessly.
"Nothing to speak of, however."

" Did you hurt it, or is it a touch of rheuma-
tism ? Shall I bathe it for you ? Isn't there some-
thing I can do?"

" Not a thing, thank you. I wish there was if it
would please you, Olive."

"Please me? Stanton, it could not please me
to see you suffer."

" No, I beg your pardon ; I did not mean to in-
sinuate tliat. I suppose it would please you, how-
ever, if I were suffering to give me ease, relief ? "

" Of course."

" Thank you. I am just as grateful as if you
had."

She did not lie back on the couch from which
she had risen at his enti-ance, and her lips quivered
a little.

" Stanton, I wish you would lie down here ; it
would do me good to see you stretched out com-
fortably as if taking things easy. I don't believe
you ever think of yourself. Most men seem to be
stretchy, all but our men. It isn't once in an age
we can coax papa down for a rest. Mamma and I

' '^'iflS-l "i-W'jJ"^,'

What a ques-

irday at this
veil, and you
as regarding

i carelessly.

J of rlieuma-
t there somo-

lere was if it

it please nie

; mean to in-
se you, liow-
e, relief?"

ul as if you

from which
ips quivered

wn here ; it
led out com-
lon't believe
1 seem to be
e in an age
amma and I

IS IT A CALL t 108

feel quite elated when we do. You and Iltnbert
are just like him."

Stanton smiled, nothing loth to be counted in
with " our men."

" If it will really please you, Puss, I shall be
delighted to accept your offer."

She watched him as he dropped down, and wag
again conscious of the care with which he shielded

his arm.

"Bring your chair close, Olive," he said; "do
not compel me to turn to look in your face. If I
am expected to be lazy, I will be real lazy."

She laughed and drew a rocker to the side of the
couch. ** How delightful ! " she cried. " Your six
feet do not seem so formidable now, even if they
do appear to increase by extension."

He passed his hands over his ears. " Is it a
pun?" he inquired, "or have you found many
things, Ollie, that do not increase as they ex-

tend?"

She shook her head reprovingly. "Interrup-
tions are never polite," she laughed. " Mark the
power of strategy. This giant who used to tower
above me is on his back and at my mercy. I realize
something of the glory of conquest in seeing you

at my feet."

"Olive, I have been there for years," he said

with meaning.

" Please be reasbnable, Stanton, and let us talk
nothing but common sense," she said, flushing
slightly, however.

• ;&?. ..

104

HERBERT QARDENELL, JR.

" I thought that was highest reason," he made
answer ; " and I have nothing commoner to my owi'
sense at least."

Slie frowned and he laughed rogiiishly. " See,
I will be very proper and ask after your morning
walk. Did you enjoy it?"

"Tiie walk? yes, somewhat. But tlip calls were
a failure." Everybody else had availed them-
selves of the line weather jis well as myself."

" We shall guard against such disappointment
to-morrow," he said, "by providing our own com-
pany."

" Perhaps," she assented with some dignity, " if
we go " And then meeting the humor of his
twinkling eyes she smiled too, deciding that -lig-
nity was quite thrown away on such a graceless
masculine.

"I suppose you spent your morning with the
doctoi-s as usual?" she inquired, and he was con-
scious of a most penetrating glance.

" I did," he answered unhesitatingly, and with
no apparent perturbation. " But I shall not be in
80 much demand hereafter. OUie, you must not
be so jealous of the doctore ; they have not diverted
an atom of my interest from you."

" Jealous! " scornfully. " Mi'. Cartwright, you
are the most presuming gentleman of my acquaint-
ance. One would think the honor of your com~
pany an overwhelming favor."

" It is well-nigh," he answered humorously. " I
hate to deprive the doctors of so rare a privilege,

itSsajil- ■•.3-.==:i.-

i«ti- I'liiiiifcwrifliWtiyfi^tiLi

!^ ni l |iyniiiujni| i ll,;^| i i .■■ |,[J, l|jf i

)n," he made
er to my own

'mhly. " See,
your morning

\\f calls were
vailed them-
iiyself."
sappointment
3ur own cora-

dignity, " if
lumor of his
ing that dig-
li a graceless

ing with the
1 he was coi:-

gly, and with
hall not he in
yo\i must not
) not diverted

rt Wright, you
njy acquaint-
of your com-

noi'ously. " I
•e a privilege,

IS IT A CALL r

106

and yet I cannot but be aware of how you languish
uilliout it."

What wivs the use of Y ing angry with the rogue ?
Olive condescended to coax. " Please be good,
Stanton, I want to have an earnest talk with you
this afternoon. I want to know whether you
really help the doctors or not."
" I try."

" But what can you do ? Is it anything ppecial
or only ordinary help? and in either case why will
not papa do as well ? or is it because he is so over-
worked and tired ? "

" What an interrogation point it is I Has it for-
gotten that the pai-son aspires to bo a doctor as
■well? " putting on offended dignity. " Or, Olive,
is it possible," regarding her with serious enough
eyes now, " that you really think so little of me
that you have forgotten how I have been pegging
away at medicine tliis last twelve months ? "

" I had lorgotten, truly," her face clearing sud-
denly. " I think mamma's sickness has put every-
thing else out of my mind. And will it help you
a great deal to bo closeted so much with these

men ? "

" I trust it will. All knowledge ought to mean
gain, both to ourselves and othera."

" Is it the old method and practice or something
new and unusual that has so interested you, Stau-

" Something quite new, at least to rhe, Olive."
♦'Could you tell mc about it?" asked this

i,!^ .&,^.,rJ^ Jia^i^-.^.'^'TUt

■jm-^"

L I ^II Wl HPWHW i

i i y i iipi I I I |jip i m| i pi iii .j|.y|i^ i ijn

■«*■

106

HERBEUT OARDENELL, JR.

daughter of Rve, in wliat lier brother Raymond
would have called a wheedling tone.

" Not just yet, dear. Some day, perhaps."

" Stanton," impatiently, '* how would you like
an answer like that to some question tliat inter-
ests you very specially ? "

" Try me and see," he retorted quickly. " I
have the question leady, Ollie, and I don't believe
I'd object."

" Well, I object to such foolish talk, and I can't
see what mystery there need be about a little
knowledge, except indeed I am too foolish, too
obtuse to learn. I do not wonder either," deject-
edly. "I've been thinking only to-day of how
you and Herbert are straining every point to be
ready for the largest kind o* life-work, and I — I
am idling away my time."

" Not at present, dear. Be just with youi-self."

"No, not these last few months, but before
that, Stanton. It is over a year since I graduated,
and besides a few extra studies with Herbert, a
few lessons in cutting and fitting from Miss
Moses, and my music and visiting with papa and
Herbert "

" Quite a long catalogue," he interrupted sooth-
ingly.

" But how much will it count in preparing me
for my life-work?"

" Everything counts that makes us better able
either to do or be or bear, and that is learned for
the Miister's sake and with His benediction."

It.

ler Raymond

limps."
ould you like
»n that intur-

quickly. " I
don't believe

c, and I can't
jout a little
I foolish, too
ther," deject-
i-day of how
•y point to be
)ik, and I — I

th youraelf."
but before
I gmduated,
h Herbert, a
f from Miss
^ith papa and

rupted sootii-

preparing me

IS better able
s learned for
liction."

la IT A CALL t

107

» lint Africa, Stanton, Africa ! You have your
luedicine, and Herbert his linguistic abilities and
research and acquainUince with languages and
nations, Harry his mechanism, and all of you your
preaching. What have I ? "

" Power to teach the women to cut and sew
their »in,ple garments, and the children to read
and write and cipher: the gift of song and touch
that will rouse in the hardest man desire for
heavenly things and inspire the missionary to
greater effort. Surely, Olive, that is blessed prep-
aration for the Lord's ' Well done'."

She lifted a flushed, enthused face. " Stanton,
I think, I hope, I almost know, sometimes that
I shall go to Africa as well as you."

"I trust you will my " He stopped the word

of endearment before it fell.

"I know I shall if Herbert goes," she con-
tinued. " But, well, I suppose I should not want
to go without him." ^^

" Not if God asked you to go, Olive ? '
"Well, of coui-se, if I knew God called me I
would have to go."

"Would it be hard for you to go anywhere for
Jesus, Olive, even if you had to go alone? "he
continued earnestly, scanning the young face.

"Yes," she hesitated. "It would be hard.
But— but I think I could do it for Him. Yes, I
know I could and I would," with grave determina-
tion. And just then came a light tap on the door
and a gentle "May I come?"

■•'AalmiiaMtfUk

•^r-

^iw^^>—» n umiwi t ^f

108

IlKltliEltT OAHDFNELL, JR.

" Of coui-80 you nmy," cried Olive gladly, as a
Bweet fiice surrounded, by little clinging rings of
brown hair, ])oeped in. "Lie still, Stanton,"
peremptorily as the young man witli native court-
esy started to rise in gieeting to tlio new-comer.
" I will wait on Leo myself. Sit right here in my
chair where you can help me watch this culprit,
and I will get another for myself."

" I Ix'g yo'ir i)ardon, but I heard your last ques-
tion, Mr. Cartwriglit, and Miss Olive's answer,"
said Miss Erdley, and the two looking at iier per-
ceived that her usually pale face wius flushed with
a kind of glory. « You were talking of missions,
and I could not but hear. I wanted to come in
and see you talk. If "—and she spoke quickly,
eagerly, as if the words were pressing for utter-
ance—" if any one was so honored of Cf od as to
receive His call to such work and free to follow it,
who would ask higher joys ? "

Stanton's full smile answered her. "No mortal
who ever knew His love," he made reply.

" But does lie ever call wliere we cannot fol-
low? "asked Olive.

" Oh, Mr. Cartwright, answer that ! " cried
Lenore, driven out of her usual reserve. " There
are times when I so faint for the privilege, it
seems almost like receiving a call."

"If Herbert— Olive's brother— were here,"
answered Stanton, " he would say that to see a
need and have wherewith to meet it constituted
tlie highest call. He thinks men need very decided

TT-

3 gliully, as a
jiiig rings ot
11, Stanton,"
nativu court-
3 new-coinor.
t liore in my
this culprit,

•ur lust ques-
e's answer,"
^ ut her per-
flushed with
of missions,
to come in
)ke quickly,
ig for utter-
' Ood as to
to follow it,

"No mortal

.ly.

3 cannot fol-

at ! " cried
e. " There
privilege, it

I'eve here,"
it to see a
constituted
ery decided

IS IT A CALLt

lot

calls to stay away from the foreign field rallier
than to go to it, since the ' Go, thou,' is a com-
mand and has been given to us all."

Olive hardly heard his answer. She was watch-
ing the play of emotion on the mobile face beloio

hur.

" I know the need, its awfulness almost brciuks
my heart at times," said the lady, and her voice wns
tremulous. " I have wl-at will meet it fully, I am
sure of that; I've tried .c for myself,"— eagerly, a
delicate flush tinging her cheeks. " I hivve thought
sometimes I would willingly give half the yeai-s of
my life for the privilege of telling during the other
half, to those who never knew it, the power of
CL.ist to save. I think," solemnly, " I would l)e
willing to die on the shores of some far-away land,
if only in dying I might show those lost ones how
death is swallowed up in Life— Life Eternal."
" Surely you are called," cried Olive.
Stanton drew himself up to a sitting posture
and extended his hand. "As a missionary of
Jesus Christ I bid you welcome to our company.
I trust there is nothing can hinder your going."

She did not seem to see his outstretched i)alm.
She let drop the hands that had clasped them-
selves together in her lap and stood upon her feet.
She looked as if ready to flee.

» Hush I " she said, "hush 1 You must not ask
me, I must not ask myself. It is like a glimpse
of heaven to one who cannot enter.'- And she
was gone.

'in

■l-w

.11

H»fP

110

IIKHBERT OARDENELL, JR.

The young iimii looked into tho tuoj of his
conipnnion. ^' If anything should come up to
liinder me, OUie, I Hhould feel like that. Would

you?"

The question was asked tenderly, earnestly, and
tlio maiden rose quietly and slipped out of the
room. She could not answer it. But some vision
of life's heavenly intent had reached her yet
bound soul and lifted it ui)ward toward larger
possibilities.

She would not forget the present tense in voice
as well as word, as Lenore's creed droppfjd from
her lips : " Death i» swallowed up in Life." Be-
yond its utterance was its reality. An incarnate
Easter!

laov) of his
come up to
hat. Would

HIS MOTHER'S OOD.

Ill

lariiestly, and
I out of the
t Honie vision
hed her yet
award larger

ense in voice
Iroppfxl from
1 Life." Be-
\n incarnate

CHAPTER X.
HIS mother's god.

" Every »orrow liath Its bound
And no cross endures forever."

~P. OKRHAnDT.

At dinner-hour there was a very quiet group in
the dining-room. Lenore Erdley was paler than
usual and seemed preoccupied. Only Mr. Gar-
denell appeared like himself ; the great burden that
had been lifted from his heart made him cheerful,
and he kept the conversation from lagging.

As they pushed their chairs from the table Olive
lianded her brother's letter to her father. His face
lighted. "Herbert's own handwriting, he must
be improving," he said.

"Have you read this to Stanton, yet?" in-
quired the gentleman as he finished the sheet.

" No, sir."

Mr. Gardenell passed the epistle to the young
man. She jaw the shadow of a smile flicker over
his face as he read, and knew what was lurking in
the eyes she avoided as he quietly returned the

letter.

The two gentlemen excused themselves after

..'.ifiiBiK^' '

wmm

112

IIHUIIKHI OMIUKSEI.L, J II.

BUpjM-r ami, arm in arm, nMccMidtMl to tlio Hliuly.
MisH Erdlcy rmirtluMl Imr work for tlui «lay and
btulo licr frujnd ^nod-night with luoro than iiHual
tfiuloiiifHs. Olivo Hat al«)UO.

Sho bronglit hor \vriliiij,'-desk to tlio window, hJio
would liavo a that with Herbert ; it was a comfort
to turn to him, even on paper, the natural rect'i*-
taclo of hor woes. Lot ua [)ocp over her Hhoulder.

" Yrm PRECiors OLD IlKitnKUT.- How I love
you and long to see you. 1 envy Aunt Jessie and
cousin Fred every day I live, but what good does
that do, 1 wonder?

" Yes, Stanton is here, and ho is sueh a comfort,
only I wouldn't have him thiidi so for the world —
anil so much like yon, only not (piiU; ; and wo
could never have lived through the last week
without him.

" Papa says I may tell you how very sick mammii
has been now that she is getting better. I!o
looks as if ten years had rolled off of his hack
since yesterday. He is almost as young and boy-
ish as Stanton from sheer relief, for mamma knows
him, and wants him beside her; and she has asked
for me, and I am to hvm her tomorrow. I am so
glad.

"Of course you don't know how dreadful it ha-»
Ix^en, the house shut up, the bells mut!led, and
everybody feeling that they nuist move so quietly
even' after it was nnneoessary, l)ecauso somehow
the dread had got inside us, and we could not
be ourselves. Then yon know Bessie went West
some weeks before mamma's woi-st attack, and
the new girl was green and ignorant. She got
frightened when so many doctoi-s were called.

uis MOTiiLivs uon.

Ill

tlio Htudy.

Ill) (liiy and

tiiiiii usual

window, kIiu

'118 A coin fort

tniiil ifcojH

rr shouldur.

How I love

it JvHsio and
lit f^ood does

li II comfort,

tlio world —

ii((! ; mid wo

lust week

sick nminnia
better. Ho
' of liiH hack
uiii^ and Ixiy-
lainnia knows
slio liius asked
w. I am so

readfiil it Iwn

iniitHcd, and

ve so quiet ly

use somehow

ve could not

ie went West

attack, and

lit. She jjot

were called.

She wiiH HO HuiMir.HtitiouH that it wnn no use to tell
lier there wiw uothiti}^ couta^iouM alM)Ut the disenMe.
She knew lN>tter, knew wu would all die; the
(flooin and tiie fear ' jist takes away nie hem I,
sure,' hIio mtid, ho she took her Ixxly off too with
all its Ixjlongin^.

" Vou can inia(;iiii) how papa and I fult all alone
in this house without any help hut Huch as Mrs.
Kllis, tlie (tiiarwoman coidd ^ive, and two nurses to
Ik) fed. We hiuln'teven a maid, for i had planned
to d«) the Hecond work In-fore all these thing's
hap[>encd. Your letter and Aunt Jessie's came
both on one day, and AlK)ut two weeks ludoro
matte ix reiu;hed their climax. So I could neither
send for or write to you, my comfort, and it did
seem I could not l)ear it when they Hhut me out of
mamma's room. Papa's fiu^o grew so white and
sad I dared not burden liim with my lonelinesH
and dread.

" And then, the morning afte. Bridget left, liefore
I had been a day alone, who bIiouUI come, just in
time to get dinner for me, but Hplendid old Stanton.
He's Ixitter help than any girl we ever had. The
way he straightened out the house, made c(.'flee
and muffins and broiled steak, was surprising. I
was 80 glad to see him, and it seemed so much like
having you tliat 1 just hugged him, and he has
imposed upon me ever since in a very unmanly
fiLshion.

I have one thing against him. He is keeping
a secret from me. The day after he came he was
closeted with the doctor for s(!veral houis, and the
next day, too, and he hasn't told mo a word almut
it. Not that I have really a.sk(*d, but ho knows I
want to understand it, and I don't believe I shall
forgive him. He dropped a few crumbs of com-
8

:'Aimiii.sMii>m>tiai^-ittiii^ii*^-

■■^mmMiiih.

!#*=

tmm

114

lIEltUKHT GARDENELL, JR.

1 1

f 1

fort. You know lie is studying medicine, and lie
thinks it will help him to be with these learnoi
men. That's for Africa. And he asks me questions
that I cannot answer, and looks at me in a way
that opens to me all my private wickednesses and
weaknf3SHes and makes me feel I shall never be fit
either to go to Africa or to stay at home unless the
Lord does more for me than lie luvs.

" Herbert, I think you and Stanton, and papa
and mamma have a different kind of religion from
mine. Any way it acts differently, and yet I
know I love Jesus. I was so thankful for the
Sunday-school lesson on the blind man of John 9 :
for I do know one thing, Herbert ; I can see. Yes
I can see well enough at least to discover all my
own deficiencies, and I never had so many as since
Stanton Cartwright was in this house. Not that
he has been angelic, and I lose by comparison. I
haven't discovered the firet speck of a wing yet.
But in spite of all his fun and teasing, there is
something about him that makes everybody that
knows hiui want to be better.

" If I write much more there will not be room
for papa, and he wants to add a few words. I
hope he won't read this, for he quite aids and
abets Stanton in his secrets and jjlans. Papa
loves him as much as you do, and so do I, only I
don't tliink it wise to let him know.

" Write to me very soon. If you were here all
would be right. I am always good when I am
with you. That is one reason I want to go with
you to Africa. I may be able thei. to do a little
for Christ ; without yon it would take most of my
time to look out for myself. Give my love to
Aunt Jessie and Fred, and take a great big lot for
yourself. Get well fast for the sake of your

" Olive.

pWfWIWPIR'

licine, and lie
these learnol

I me questions
me in a way
ednesses and

II never be fit
ime unless the

ton, and papa
religion from
y, and yet I
nkful for the
m of John 9 :
can see. Yes
icover all my
iiany as since
e. Not that
(mparison. I
i a wing yet.
ising, there is
/erybody that

not be i-oom
Bw words. I
lite aids and
plans. Papa

do I, only I

wei'e here all

1 when I am
nt to go with
to do a little
:e most of my
i my love to
sat big lot for
of your

" Olive.

HIS M0TUEK8 GOD.

116

up S.— I forgot to tell you about Lenore
Erdley, our new helper. Isn't it a romantic
name? and she isn't a bit like anybody else; she a
better. We only have her until we get some one
else, but I hope we shall never get anybody, be-
cause no one will be like her. She's just beau-
tiful I love her dearly, and so does btanton.
lie admires her. She is like a real story being
lived out before your eyes. And she is your kuid
of a Cliristian, too. ■, . u

" There, I haven't told you anything abo'io her.
I can't. She loves missions just as Stanton and
vou do, as if her he-'rt were already over in some
distant land. She nas a secret, too, I'm most sure.
You can see it way b;ick in lior lovely gray eyes,
and yet she is so quiet and tender, and happy. U
dear, I wish I was like her. You would all be
proud of me then and I need not be ashamed of
Lyself. "Olive.'

It was quite dark before the letter was finished.
Olive had lighted the gas to see the last page.
She wondered what her father and Stanton could
be doing, and if they had quite forgotten her.
She crept up over the staii-s and halted at the study
door. She could hear deep, manly voices, and her
desire for companionship overcame her pique as
she knocked.

" Come," said papa, recognizing the rap, and in
the dim light she was sure she saw Stanton Cart-
wright with one arm thrown about her father's
neck sitting on the arm of his great chair. That
was no strange attitude for any of her brothers,
even Herbert or Ray, grown men though they

^^^js^mm^m^si^^^'--''^'^^'^^^^*'^^''^^^^

«*<«■

116

IJEllBEItT GARDENELL, JR.

were. But Stanton — there was a flash of almost
jealousy as the young man came to the door and
led her to her father's arms.

She flung hei-self on the broad bosom, nestled
her face in under his neck, and kept very still.

" I have not di turbed you ?" she whispered.

" My darling, you never disturb me. I had
forgotten it was so late, and Lenore must be gone."
But she quite knew she had interrupted their con-
versation.

They began again after a little — she wondered
if it was on the self-same subject — and the deep,
calm, quiet voices lulled her to deepest repose.
They were discussing missions now, whatever
had been their previous theme: missions and
men. Olive knew her father was an authority on
such matter.4; she wsis used t« aearing the various
fields discussed — Hudson Taylor and the China
Inland Mission, Paton and Tanna, Mackay and
Uganda. Listening, intei'ested as she surely was,
she yet fell fast asleep and was carried by her
father to bed as so often in her childhood days.

As the young man opened the study door for
tlieir egress and waited in the dusk for his friend's
return, is it strange that he questioned whether he
had a right to take this young, untried life, from
such tender, sheltering care, into the hard, dark
places they had just been discussing, wliere his
strong, true heart panted to follow his Master ?

Ileil)ert Gardenell, Jr., had written the truth
■frhen he assured his loved ones that there was

»? I s i mimmwim iMvn \ m>« t

wtMiniMiail*

U18 ^OTHER'S aOD.

117

*J» of almost
[he door and

[som, nestled
ery stilJ.
liispeied.
me. I had
1st be gone."
ed tlieir con-

16 wondered
nd the deep,
pest repose,
whatever
lissions and
luthority on
tlie various
the China

tfackay and

I surely was,

ried by her

)od days.

dy door for
his fiiend's
wliether lie

d life, from
hard, dark
where his

Master ?

1 the truth
there waa

nothing dangerous about his illness. He was sick
enough, however, to satisfy himself and alarm his
aunt.

The weariness, the languor, the feverish ex-
haustion were well nigh as insupportable as actual
pain would have been. Then, too, he had a haunt-
ing consciousness that something was withheld
from him, that all was not well with the friends
at home. Had it not been for his trust in God
this anxiety might have seriously changed the
character of his disease. As it was he committed
his dear ones to his Maker and, day after day, as
the fear returned, enhanced by the shadow of de-
lirium, he laid it back on the Mightiest with his
old-time watch-word as well as Stanton Cart-
wright's and Isaiah's, " I will trust and not be
afraid."

Immediately after the reception of Mre. Roger's
letter, telling of his son's illness, Mr. Gardenell
had written that lady, in reference to his wife's
condition. Olive, as you will remember, wrote at
the same time to Herbert, carefully shunning any
allusion to her mother. She wonderfully succeeded
in soothing and amusing her brother. He kept
this " love-letter " as he called it, under his pillow
for days.

" That green-eyed monster has fastened on my
heart," she wrote, " and it is Cousin Fred he
maligns. Poor me I what would I give to be in
her place. I want her to be very kind and good to
you, as good as I could possibly be, only I am sure

.,m

ir~-

ri y

I'll

■!

118

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

I cannot bear it if you are as grateful to her aa
you would be to me, or if you give her too lavishlv
of your smiles and thanks."

And who could ask better care than this invalid
received. Mr. and Mrs. Rogera and Fred vied with
each other in anticipating his every wish, and
there would have been nothing too difficult for any
member of this household to attempt, if there had
been the barest chance of its adding to the comfort
of their beloved patient.

But Herbert required little. And this Aunt
Jessie declared caused her greatest solicitude. His
uncomplaining patience and grateful conscious-
ness of every smallest kindness filled her with
gravest feai-s. Could anybody so good recover
from illness? Would he not die after all? She
told her husband privately that it would bring
her instant relief if Herbert would only get cross
just once.

Mrs. Rogers had carefully concealed from him
his mother's condition, but not as Avholly as she
supposed. His father had thought it best to tell
him a portion of the truth. It was necessary. His
boy was too well acquainted with his mother to
believe anything but inability would keep lier from
his side if he suffered; only actual impossibility
could keep her from pouring out her heart to him
on paper. No word from her would mean, " I can-
not hold my pen." It was better to tell him what he
must guess.

" Your mother has not been so well since you

*r^A,!i-.t^*<.'tt«S3 ■iMttIfl«&W«'«SiMBmSKii!sX«tfWfcA;i**W*W'*«<lfi

«.

HIS MOTIIKIVS OOD.

UJ)

ful to her aa

r too lavishly

this invalid

ed vied with

■y wish, and

icult for any

if there had

the comfoit

i this Aunt
citude. His
I conscious-
Jd her with
ood recover
Jr all? She
would bring
ily get cross

d from him
holly as she
best to tell
3ssary. His
3 mother to
!ep her from
inpossibility
leart to him
?a", " I can-
liinj whathe

I since you

left home," he wrote. " Her strength diminishes
rather than increases, but we are trusting God the
record soon may change. Meanwhile Dr. Germaine
thinks it not best to inform her of your illness and
thus add sorrow to her weakness. She does not
suffer much pain, let us thank God for that. I
know her son can trust his mother's God, and for'
her sake, as well as mine and his own, keep a
steady heart, obey every direction of physician and
nurse, making haste slowly that it may be surely,"

Since then his father had written but once and
to Aunt Jessie. The patient knew nothing of this
letter, but his heart was uneasy, especially so at
times, and he tried to stay it on God. " He
knows," he would whisper to himself. " He
knows and He can help. Just hold her close
for my sake to-day, Lord. Rest her to-night,
Jesus, rest her sweetly, and let her wake better in
the morning."

And Mrs. Rogers, catching some of these words,
thought his mind wandered, and went away to
weep and pray.

But he was gaining. He began to improve from
the hour Stanton's letter reached him with its
hearty cheer and overflowing life. "I am going
to New York, old fellow, congratulate me. I wish
you were there, but can better afford to miss you
than somebody else whom I very much want to see.
I am going to risk my fate. Wish me good-luck."

Oh, the relief of it 1 The letter liad been for-
warded to the sick man from his last halting-place

120

UEltUEUT GARDEN ELL, JR.

and was two weeks old wlien it arrived. His
friend might even now be with tlie dear ones, taking
his place. The comfort of the thought 1 VJeak
as he was, he began a letter to Olive. It took
several days for its completion, and was hardly
despatched before a telegram from Stanton reached
him, sent the afternoon of the young man's arrival
in New York.

♦' Heie to hold the fort. Don't worry. Take a
strong dose of Isaiah. I suggest chapter twelfth,
also the fortieth, twenty-ninth to thirty-first
verses inclusive." — Stanton.

Sonietliing helped Herbert, perhaps it was the
prescription. Aunt Jessie seemed inclined to think
Stanton Cartwright a first-class physician, judging
from the effects of his medicine. From that day
her i)atient gained steadily.

Con valescence has its charms. After a while
Herbeit was able to sit up a little and listen while
some one read to him.

Later on he was permitted to walk about the
house, then the grounds, by and by short drives
were allowed, and he began to prize his privileges.
Elsie and Marian had been home for some weeks,
to say nothing of Nason. And all of them were
at his disposal, ready to come or go at his beck
and call.

How sweet the air of early summer. It stirred
with life. The invalid took great breaths of it and
never tired. It was blessed to live, be well, be
strong ; and every day now new vigor came to his

tkiui^^^jmBBMffiamlm9Mnqpt.v«

JH.

•

arrived. His
ar ones, taking
jught 1 Weak
Hive. It took
id was hardly
tanton reached
y man's arrival

vorry. Take a

lapter twelfth,

to thirty-first

aps it was the
iclined to think
sician, judging
Prom that day

UIH MOTHER'S GOD.

1'21

hody, new light to his eyes, fresh color to his

face.

Tliis was especially true after he received that
lust letter of Olive's witli its i)recious enclosure
from his father. Ilia heart was set at rest, for he
knew all now. His mother's danger, her recovery,
his friend's part in the same, and the delicacy that
preferred to keep the facts from Olive. Did ever
any man before possess such a friend as his ? His
heart swelled with grateful pride.

The proan of praise with which his father closed
his epistle reached the reader's soul, stirring all the
sluggish currents of his being until they leaped
anew to claim life's duties and rewards.

After a while
nd listen while

valk about the
)y short drives
i his privileges,
ar some weeks,
of them were
go at his beck

ler. It stiried
ireaths of it and
ve, be well, be
mr came to his

122

llEUUKUr OAllDENELL, JR.

CHAPTER XI.
"I don't like questions."

" The sweetest sound our whole yea aund ;
'Tis the first robin of the spring i "

"Some measure love l>y gold,

By endless time, by soundless sea ;
But I — 1 love you well enough

To leave you, love, If needs must be."

— FuEUEiticK J. Parous.

" Is there a young lady here, who wishes to go
with me tliis inorniiig ? "

The day was hiight, the liour early, the speaker
Stanton Cartwright, as he walked into the dining-
room where two girls were Inisy wilh their work.
There had been a week of damp, chilly weather,
wholly frustrating the plans he had made for a
tramp, but surely this day had dawned ^or just this
purpose.

" Have you an answer for Mr. Cartwright, Lee ? "
asked one.

" Not I," with a quick, mirthful glance. " I am
far too busy, even if I were the invited party. But
there isn't a single reason why you should refuse."'

" Hear, hear," applauded the gentleman. " Get

smsss

L, JR.

I DO.VT LIKE questions:'

12a

IONS.

feu oimd ;

ng .'

8 8CS ;

mist be."

£i<ic'K J. Parous.

'ho wishes to go

ally, the speaker
into the diniiig-
wilh their work.
, chilly weather,
hud made for n
vned 'or just this

irtwright, Lee ? "

glance. " I am
ited party. But
I should refuse.''
ntleman. *' 0«t

on your wraps speedily, Olive, wo must not miss a

moment of this goldon morning."

" 1 haven't decided to go with you yet."

" But you will ; it isn't in your heart to crush

the fond hopes of a fellow-mortal unnecessarily."
" That depends upon who the fellow-mortal is,

and whether he is capahle of lx;ir»g crushed. I

intended to spend this forenoon with mamma."
" Mamma prefers you should spend it with me."
" 0-o-o-h ! " The prolonged exclamation savored

of distrust.

" I have just come from her room. She is glad
there is a happy day before us both, and gave me
permission to carry you off."

" Did one ever see such a — a — "
" Fellow-mortal," suggested Stanton, but she broke
out in another vein.

" Your fond hopes at least do not intend to be
crushed, since they provide for every contingency."

" How pretty you are, Olive,"

"Your compliments do not strengthen your
cause, Mr. Cartwright."

" Not they. My cause needs no strengthening.
The crocuses and daffodils under the parlor-win-
dow are unanswerable arguments. There's a
robin by this time in the apple-tree at Bloomingle,
and you and I are going to investigate his house-
building as well as the old house and buildings."

" O, Stanton, are we going to Bloomingle ? Is
it time to think of preparing the house ? When
will mamma be strong enough to be moved?"

smmmOKatma^mam

^ipp

124

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

for<jettiiig her dudgeon in delight, as slie fairly
danced U[) and down in front of tliu young man.

A mischievous gk^am shot through the orown
eyes. " You and I are going out there to recon-
noiter this very morning, Princess. VViiich means
just thirty minutes in which to catch the train.
We'll talk over mamma's removal on the way;
the doctor's favor it as soon as possible."

" You blessed lM)y 1 I'll bo ready in five minutes."

And two paiiu of eyes met smilingly as the slight
figure whirled out of the room. The smile on two
faces broadened until it dropped in a laugh from
the lips of one as her happy voice came back to
them in snatches of song. " Is she not worthy of
nil love?" asked the brown eyes looking up in-
quiringly. " Yes, to one strong enough and
patient enough to win and mould her," answered
the gray.

"I am able," said the deep, rich voice of th«
young man, answering the unspoken answer. And
the clear, earnest, speaking eyes swept him over
comprehensively ere the lips replied : " I Ixjlieve
you are." So Lenore Inicame Stanton's conlidante.

It was a delicious day, every breeze a caress, so
tender and so loving was it. The sun wai in, not
hot, spread a golden glory all around ; the sky
blue and cloudless, crowned the budding green of
tree and field, as these two set out together.
Nothing could dampen their ardor, even the dust
and the heat of the cai-s were delightful because a
necessary part of their outing.

" ■.'BR'y»H9*!?.3n5r:''

3SS

',''»'■:

„ JR.

it, as si 10 fairly

Migh tlio oiown

tliore to rt'coii-

VVIiich 111011118

nitcli the tmiii.

I on tlio Wiiy;
hible."

II (ivo minutes."
gly as the slight
'ho smile on two

ill a laugh from
13 camo hack to
10 not worthy of

looking u|) in-
g enough and

her," answered

ch voice of th-a
!n answer. And
swept him over
ied : " I lielieve
ton's conndaiito.
oezo a caress, so
10 sun waini, not
.round ; the sky
•udding green of
t out together.
)r, even the dust
ghtful because a

" / DON'T LIKE QUESTIONS."

125

The old house, how good it looked ! Olive mn
hitluT and thither among the hedges and trees
hunting for hirds'-nest^, laughing in a very tremor
of delight, when Stanton's i.r..i)hecy proved true
and two gre-it robins Hew out of the apitle-tree.

" Oh, you darlings 1 " she cried, " you are the
very same that were here bust year. I kiiow you,
both. Are you ghid littlo mamma will be hero
again to feed you tliii summer? "

She followed Stanton into the house, watching,
while he threw open blinds and windows and
dusted a chair for her occupancy. Ho threw a
heavy shawl about her, declaring the house chilly
after being so long shut up, bidding her sit quite
still until he built a fire in the open gmte. " Then
we will have dinner," he said. Hut she followed
him out after dried leaves and branches with which
to start the blaze, and soon it was roaring ui) the
wide-mouthed chimney, filling the room with ita
cheerful warmth.

»' Isn't it nice, I lika picnicking," she laughed, m
she helped him prepare lunch, dictating over the
setting of the plates and cups. It was a merry
meal. Afterwards they went for wild-fiowers,
returning in time for a rest and talk before start-
ing for the train.

" I hate to go back to the city," she said, " I
wish mamma waa coming to-morrow, don't you,

Stanton?"

" Yes, dear," ho answered abstmctedly. lie

«>.

.i»5W»«^85'«.*iMIMmi W»g< i;iBa«!»l»aiWM>>i.' iW«»a***a*l«<»fc»rt»t«Mi«irfi*"

V->6

IlKHliKHT a Mi I) K SELL, JR.

li I

was tl iiikiiip lliiit tlie diiy was most gone, nnd tlie
avowal III! had planned unmade.

" What makes you 80 dull?" she asked, detect-
\\\'^ the preoccupation of this slave of her every
whim. " Is anything the matter?"

" I have a question to ask you, Olive," he
answered seriously.

" I wish you wouldn't," she cried, taking
instant alarm.

** But I must; I came on purpose to ask it."

*' I wish I had known that, I would have
stayed at home."

" Olive, why do 5'ou think I came to New York
this spring ? "

To help us," she answered naively.
But I didn't know you were in trouble until I
got here."

" No. I never thought of that. Stanton, you
didn't come on purpose — on purpose — " patheti-
cally.

" Yes, on purpose — on purpose," he replied
laughingly.

" Oil, I hoped that was so far off 1 You won't
make me say yes ? " imploringly.

" I will not make you do anything you do not
wish, Olive. Am I in the habit of compelling
you against yo' " 'viU ? "

" You've hal your own way since you came; I
know that. I wouldn't have come to-day only
you made me."

' i!itiiutK(3«ae«ui«»w-a«»i»wMe^<>'MBtw«^

■■■i

, .in.

U gone, and the

le askod, detect-
ve of lii-r every

pu, Olive," liti

J cried, taking

He to ank it."
I would have

ne to New York

vely.

1 trouble until I

;. Stanton, you
)ose — " putheti-

le," he replied

iff I You won't

linpr you do not
t of compelling

ce you came; I
me to-day only

"/ DOST LIKK Ql^KSTlOSS."

127

»• What I Olive, didn't you want to visit
Hloominglo?"

" YeH, I did, but I wanted junt an much not to
conu) with you."

" Honor bright, little girl," looking Hteadily into
hur eve«, " Were you not glad of an excuao to put
aside your displeasure?"

" Perhaps," she admitted, liis glance confusing
her.

And why did you hold any such feeling
against me? Was tliere reason for it?"

" No, there was not," she answeied frankly,
after a minute of silence while ho waited gnively
her reply. " You and papa had sometiiing lajtweeu
you that you did not tell me, and I wanted to pay
you for your lack of confidence."

'• Olive, what a daughter of Eve you are I "

" I don't see as I 'an help that, being born a
woman. And it isn't manly of you to twit me of
my sex, as I did not choose it."

" True," laughing. " Esi)ecially when I wouldn't
have you any different for the world. It is de-
lightful to have you so interested in all that con-
cerns me."

How he made everything serve his purpose 1

" I'm not sure I am," she declared with spirit.

" I am," he replied. " And, Olive, if you will
answer my question as I wish, I will answer any
number of questions you may put me, whatever
the subject."

" Will you ? " eagerly. " Oh, Stanton, I'd like

ixt**

128

HERBERT GARLENELL, JR.

I;:i'^

to, only I'm afraid I can't, your question is one I
must not answer."

" Only five words and easy to undeistand,
Olive. Will you be my wife ? "

'• I can't. Oh, Stanton, I truly can't," in evident
distress. " It's mean of you to ask me. It is for
Herbert's sake I've been good to you, and loved
you, and now you want to take me away from
him, and papa and mamma. I cannot go, and it
isn't kind of you to ask me."

" Perhaps it isn't." From his soul this young
man, whose face showed how deeply he had been
hurt, admitted the truth of her arraignment.

The girl took one swift glance at the face that
bad paled in spite of all self-control and hid her
own in her hands. " I hate questions. They
spoil all the good times. Why couldn't things
go on as they are forever ? " she moaned.

He had been premature. The flower of love, as
every other flower, must take its own time in which
to mature. Had he been trying to force its growth ?
Because the perfume and color of full bloom and
fruitage enriched his own heart, had he reason to
demand it in another? No. Hewaswiong. He
should have waited, would wait, and trouble her
no more. They would go back to the old pleasant
life. She shonid be unmolested, unafraid.

Something of this he said to her. And she
listened, hardly hearing, but realizing through all
her being that she had failed, not him alone, but
herself, since she could not measure up to the ex-

,'«'«S6.;««.!'ii'S*s«;«iKW«v'4sare\vi?Si***.ii9«ai*^^

JR.
iiestion is one I

to undeistiiiid,

n't," in evidcMit

me. It is for

you, and loved

nie away from

nnot go, and it

oul this young

ly he had been

ilgnment.

t the face that

rol and hid her

lestions. They

couldn't tilings

oaned.

ower of love, as

:n time in which

orce its growth ?

full bloom and
ad he reason to
vas wrong. He
^nd tiouble her
tiie old pleasant
n afraid.

her. And she
ing through all

him alone, but
re up to the ex-

'7 DON'T LIKE QUESTIONS:'

129

pectation of this perfect love, this perfect maiv-
hood. If he did not win his answer, he at least
won her deepest homage. If she could not give
as he had asked, as he had given, she appreciated
in that hour the magnitude of the gift offered her
acceptance.

Her before-time friend, with all the fascination
liih grace and wit and worth had ever had upon
her, never approached the man whr to-day opened
his heart to her so freely and in such tender
solicitude, not for his own welfare, but her com-
fort. She was convicted that afternoon of such
•weakness, selfishness, unworthiness, that she won-
dered, not that she had rejected him — there was
nothing else for such as her to do with such an
offer — but that he had ever thought it possible she
could understand him or his destiny.

That far-away shore and its teeming millions
were reality to him, a life of self-sacrifice among
them, not heroism, not matter-of-fact duty, but
liappy, natural choice, since they needed him.
The danger, the self-abnegation, tl- daily cru-
cifixion, seemed never to have i.r-^ ressed him
until now whe he looked at them in their re-
lation to another. His tender, humble acknowl-
edgment that he had not weighed all these
sufficiently, or the separation from her dear ones,
before thus spe?^king, touched her profoundly.
She had done just right, he said. Out of her heart
and the facte she had spoken, and he thanked her.
And only -ne thing could grieve him now, and
9

: ..TaMBKK/wafflwssiFa

«jaJ8»ipi»>:^«aiTfcac«!*ra«5*i?B!!W».'<««**^^

trt

180

UERBEKT OAIWENELL, JR.

i>\M

that to know she grieved or let any word ho had
spoken or any thought of him trouble her.

Then he busied iiiniself in stirring up the coals
to toast seme bread, playing cook once more, de-
claring they had time for a rustic supper, and then
farewell to Bloomingle.

But all his biuiter and gentle acts of love only
deepened the wound in her heart. " Farewell ! "
She felt a chill come with the word, playfully as it
was uttered. Where would he be when she was
enjoying the pleasures of this summer resort?

Slie ate but a sorry supper in spite of his cheer,
and sat quietly passive while he packed up the
goods and sat down at the organ in a last effort at
raising her spirits, to sing a class song Herbeit and
he had often rendered for her amusement. At last
they must go. He rose and walked toward her
with her cloak and hat in his hand, ready to help

them on. . ^^

" You must not feel so badly over this, Olive,
he said, the sorrow of her face smiting him sorely.
» I shall not forgive you if you upbraid youreelf.
I am not so badly off after all, since I may still
love you. You are willing I should do that, are

you not ? "

"1 should feel dreadfully if you didn't," she
whispered from under the hand over her eyes.

" Thank you, and never feel dreadfully, OUie,
for I shall always love you first and best."

" But you think me very unkind and mean ?"

"Not I. Why should 1? For telling me the

-^'.^3*3*^-^«^*^^^''--^SJs-*iiV<; :*;J^,iiK?i3>:^8^^t%M ■s«AiT*y*i1.KMt\i***.*i^WwtSat'ii'w-^iaAgASSC^

:^UietWl¥Q^^\,

Tli.

y word ho had
lo her.

g up the coals
>iice more, de-
j)per,and then

8 of love only
" Farewell ! "

playfully as it
when she was
icr resoit?

e of his cheer,
packed up the

a last effoit at
ng Herbci-t and
jnient. At last
ied toward her

, ready to help

er this, Olive,"
ting him sorely,
pbraid youreelf.
nee I may still
uld do that, are

ou didn't," she
er her eyes,
readfully, OUie,
d best."
[i and mean ?
r telling me the

,W^,5"/Cs»4MKi> «^i*.-^-*'Mv;»4.^^»» .(•.v-*»»i'-r.'^

( li

"I DON'T LIKE QUESTIONS.'

181

tnith ? I wouldn't have you do otherwise. Are ■
you to blame for not loving me any more than I
am for loving you?"

" I did not say I didn't love you, Stanton," this
from the voice behind the hand.

" No, pardon me. I simply meant not loving
me as I wished, as I love you. Some day, dear, you
will love some man just so dearly. Then you will
understand why I dared make such a proposal ;
then you will not consider it too hard a thing to
do when he asks you to be his wife."

" He never shall," eyes flashing wide up to his,
hand falling to her lap. " I shall hate him if he
does. I shall never love anybody as well as I do
you, never anybody but just Herbert and papa." :■.
A smile broadened over the gentleman's face. .
Was ever stranger wooing than this ? Ever more
inscrutable maiden.

" So much," he said, " Well, I am glad, and jet
hardly enough to foraake all for me ? " a suggestion
of questioning in his voice.

" No," gravely, hesitatingly, " I do not love you
as I ought, I do not adore you, Stanton," stammer-
ing guilelessly. And by a mighty effort the
young man held his face imperturbably grave as
she looked up with her troubled eyes. How fort-
unate that a moment after he could step behind
her to arrange her cloak and give vent to that
wicked smile that was clamoring for expression !

He stooped f;o lay those smiling lips on her shin-
ing ciown ere he placed the dainty hat over it.

WP^IPP

tEillHliWri*T ''' ''i*'* "'''*" '

;»i«*W»*i*l*»t*s«w

*^.

182

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

i .- it'-

" I wouldn't worry, dear," he said soothingly.
" You aie not responsible for the impossible, and
God will bring it all riglit." And, overcome by
his tender sympathy, she threw both arms about
his neck and sobbed out on his bosom the distress
slie had tried to conquer.

" There," she said at last, lifting her head.
" You have been my brother so long, my second
Herbert, that I cannot give you up or yet be
proper with you, even when I have to refuse you
and cannot be all you wish me to be. You will
have to forgive me and forget me if you can."

" Impossible," he answered gayly, " and unthink-
able. But we will have to make quick time un-
less we intend to remain at Bloomingle over
night"

f .i

l''l

i ,'

W-

-lf.*-A«!iViKJ,4A-i. i

III.

fiooit-nrs.

188

id soothingly,
nipossible, nixl
overcome by
th iirma about
>tn the distress

ing her head,
tig, my Becond
up or yet be
i to refuse you
be. You will
you can."
" and unthink-
uiok time un-
3omingle over

nk'&-.

CHAPTER XII.

GOOD-BYE.

" "TIb only when we dare not hope
That wo are truly poor."

It was a very silent ride home. Stanton tried
to avoid Olive's eyes when he saw his glance
troubled her. He attempted to interest her in
what was passing, but gave it up after a few futile
endeavors. He had brought sorrow to this child-
woman, whom he had truly desired only to bless,
and his sympathetic heart ached.

He chided himself severely. Ho had not been
right to think of taking her from such a home
as here to such a work as his, teeming with hard-
ships and peril. After all, was not his a selfish
'ove ! Selfish love ! What a contradiction of terms.
His heart said " No " emphatically to this sugges-
tion. He loved this girl so truly, so unselfishly
that to be sure he could not take her with him,
was almost relief in spite of his disappointment.

Disappointment! He had heard somewhere
that the letter H put in the place of the D gave the
correct rendering of this word. Not disappoint-

jBMiiWI'QBifiiiMliit^Wffl"^''^^^"*^^'^

II ini ii A i M l r- il i ii J w i i I 'itW

Mnii^^

184

UEUBKltT UAIWKNELL, Jit.

i*^'

mt-.nt but His appoiiitment. This consecrated
Christian liad no doubt that this maiden's nay
was for him (iod's appointment and therefore best.
Was it God's appointment also that to this bright
young life pain and questioning should come
tiirough him ? This was harder to believe, harder
to accept.

They found Miss Erdley waiting to be relieved
that she might return home. She asked after their
day, and SUinton answered her. He helped Olive
off with her wraps and put Ihem away, ojieningthe
door for Lenore and bidding her a quiet " good-
night."

When ho returned to the parlor Olive was gone.
A few momenta after, pausing before Mrs. Garde-
nell's door, about to enter, he heard the maiden's
voice. She was talking about Bloomingle, trying
to give her mother some idea of its springing
beauty, but all the spring seemed goi.e out of her
young voice.

He passed on to the study. Mr. Gardenell was
not there. He had time for a quiet hour of thought
and prayer, and a retrospect of the afternoon's
convei'sation. It had its comic side and he ap-
preciated it. In spite of his pain he smiled there
alone in the dusk.

"Anybody here?" Mr. Gardenell touched the
electric button as he spoke, and a tall young man
stai-ted up under the flashing light.

" Well ? " There was a question in the little word
as it dropped from the gentleman's mouth, as Stanton

■■■•■■■■■^H

Ills consecrated
nmiden*H nay
therefore bcHt.

t to this bright
should come

believe, harder

to 1)6 relieved
sked after their
e hel|jed Olive
iiy, o])eningthe
quiet " good'

)live was gone,
i-e Mrs. Garde-
d the niaiden'i)
)niingle, trying
f its springing
joi.e out of her

Gardenell was
hour of thought
the afternoon's
de and he ap-
s smiled there

ill touched the
all young man

1 the little word
nith, asStitnton

GOOD-RYE.

Cartwright, ivith the reflection of his recent smile
still on his lips, stood before him.

" ' I do not love you as I ought, I do not adore
you, Stanton.' " With a gleam of irresistible humor
the youth repeated Olive's very words in her very
tone.

" My poor girlie ! she is a btiby yet, at least in
heart," said her father. " Really, I don't see as
you can do any better than let her grow awhile."
And then both men seized each other's shoulders
and, standing at arms' length, laughed till the teais
stood in their eyes, the position was so droll in
spite of \\» pathos.

And at that very moment Olive was sitting dis-
consolately and alone in her chamber, shedding
teai-s over the pitiableness of her position.

" It is mean of Stanton Cartwright to think I
can give up everylwdy for him. Why can't a man
be content with his own sistera and not l)e after
other people's ? " With a wicked little flash of in-
dignation. " Oh, dear, I hate to hurt his feelings,
for he is just the best man I ever knew exce[)t
Herbert, and I'm afraid he is very miserable. I'm
sure I am, and I suppose I've really jilted him.
What an awful word 1 I never intended to do such
a thing as that. And Stanton, jilt Stanton ! "
Another little weep. What a pity she could not
have seen those two strong men laughing unto
tears over the ludicrousness of her jilting I

Olive was quite prepared to see a broken-hearted
youth the next moniing at table. She had thought

li.iil>iifr"i ■" ' '" '^ '•''''''' ■"'

•<M!ai£wnt£^~

ISO

iikuhkut r.AitUKSELL, .in.

HO much <)v«r llio nffair that hIio quite dreatleil to
descend to tlio break faht^rooin, and sat quite a
while suunuouing up courage for the trying ordeal.
And there was Stanton, his very self. Hright,
scflf-poHHCHsed, with not a melancholy or reproachful
glance. Slic might have doubted yestenlay luwl
ever been but for his pleiwant talk with her father
alwut tlie liouse and garden. She concluded the
gentleman did not care so nmch for her after all.

As she entered the sitting-room after prayers,
she caught bits of a conversation that made her
dubious.

" You think you must go immediately ? " This
from her father.

" Yes, sir, unless I can serve you by remaining,
I think I had betterstart to-morrow. I would like
to see Mi-s. Gardenell safelv at Bloomingdalo be-
fore going away, but as it is not yet certain when
she can be moved, duty seems to call elsewhere."

"Going!" Olive's face and heart fell, she re-
sorted to her father ere long.

" Papa, what mak.s you let Stanton go away ? "

" Why, my darling, wo cannot always claim his
time. Ho has his work to do in the world, and
must prepare for it."

" But I don't see how we — )'ou can get along
without him and Herbert gone."

" I hardly see myself, dear, but we must not be
selfish. I am grateful to God for loaning him to
us so long. Only He knows what it has meant
to have him with us these past days."

I< W.

I Hi Ml

■■ iii!%aB^!^iwtfiit'aTaHhiiiyiTjferii«iii&

..^mmA^mmMmm

miiiMitiYfiHiwa

Jit.

(iOOD-HYK.

1S7

i'.to (Ireadud to
id Hiit qui*e a

16 tiding ordeal.
Hclf. Hriglit,

y or i-c]irniiuliful
yt'steitluy litwl
with licr father
coticliided the

r Iter after all.

I after prayers,
that made her

lately ? " This

1 by remaining,
V. I would like
looniingdiilo be-
at certain when
til elsewhere."
art fell, she re-

iton go away ? "
Iways claim his
the world, and

u can get along

we must not be
loaning him to
at it hits meant

" Keep him a little longer, jwipa, please. You
ciiii. I heard hi'n say he would stay if you needed
him."

" Do I need him, Olive ? "

" Why, yes ; don't you, papa ?"

" SupjKwe 1 turn the question over vo you, little
daiighter. Of course you do iiot need SUmton.
A man who could so selfishly inuigino a young
lady might give up father and mother for a place
by his side i "

Her face flushed, she hid it on her father's arm.
" Papa, it does seem a great demand for any man
to make."

" It does, indeed. Too great, dear, where love
does not warrant it. But I asked as much of a
woman once and was not denied."

She looked up shyly into his face, a mingling
of curiosity and surprise on her own. " Oh, mamma
you mean. How strangely it sounds, as if she
could have ever been anything but mamma. It
seems as if she must always liave belonged to

you."

" She did, but it was years before I found lier,
and, Olive, she wivs neither angry or dismayed be-
cause I recognized her as my soul's best self."

The maiden was silent a moment, her face hidden

aj,ain.

You are different," she whispered presently,
" you are Papa Gardenell, and have a right to ask
and take."

" I was not Papa Gardenell then," was tho

■^.&

. liii i'-f •^^^- ■■ i^.fe':^!-:-^

mmmmmmmmmm

i li

'i I

las

nKRHKIlT O^UDKSKU., .III.

Hiuiliiig reply, " Imt ii lieart-lmii^ny )'oung man
v/itli II ^rtfiit hope and iv grciit fear. It ww your
ihoUuu'h ' yeH ' tliat crowned nio with fathurluMxl,
Olivo."

" I'm glad sho miid it," anHwerod a viny low
voice. " I would never forgive her if she hadn't.
I hIiouUI have hated any other father hut you."

And then sho run lier face clear in under hiii
chin and wet his neck with her tears, Ixjcause ho
laughed at such a ridiculous speech, as who would
not.

And Stanton went away, his hright, frank face
unclouded, his honest hrown eyes looking straight
into hei-s as ho said " good-hye."

" If you ever feel like changing your mind, Ollie,
just write me a word and make mo glad. Oh, I
shall bo glad, even if you don't," ho added, seeing
a shadow flit across her face. " Glad that you
are your own true self, loving truth too well to
forfeit it, even to please your friend. You must not
tliiiik you liavo hurt mo," he went on, reading her
lieart letter than she know. " See," straightening
his tall figure, and throwing back his broad
shouldei-s, " I am big and strong, and able to bear
hard things. I covet them. I have my mission
and my God, and," his rich smile illuming all his
face, " abundance of hope. I cannot be, I am not
discoui-aged or dismayed. When I ask in God's
will, I always expect an answer in His time. I
can wait."

Tlien he was gone, his kiss on her face, over

»- 'mgmmm&im^ mmam^',.-

Jit.

'jy j'ounjf man
r. It WW your
ith fiilliurluKxl,

n;<l li very low
r if hIiu liiubrt.
cr liiit you."
ir in uiiilur liin
iirs, buuiiiiHu liu
1, iiH who would

iglit, friviik face
looking Htriiight

our mind, Ollie,
nu glad. Oh, I

e added, seeing

Glad that you
ith too well to
. YoumuHtnot
t on, reading her
5," straightening
back his broad
ind able to liear
ave my mission

illuming all hiy
lot be, I am not

I ask in God's
in His time. I

1 her face, over

nnon-BYK.

189

whitih tears Btreamed so fast, she could scarcely
follow his form down the street. How grand,
how manly lie w.is. Never b«)foro had ho seemed
such a hero in her eyen. Straight on he stKxle ;
woidd he not turn, look back once? lie rea«;hed
the corner, another moment and he would Iw out
of sight. Breathlessly she .vaited for one farewell
glance. Yes, it cam.;. His smile, flung back like
a sunl)eam, made a raiid)ow of her teaiu. It
seemed to her as if lightning flashed from hia
eyes to hers. Before nh^ couhl answer it, wits re-
covered from the shock of it, he wrs gone, but he
had left behind him something of himself hidden
in th(! deepest depths of her heart.

Strange, but the fear that she had wronged
him, the haunting uneasiness, the consciousness of
pain and heaviness went out of her with the in-
coming of that smile. His prayer was answered,
she was comforted md he had comforted her. She
would miss him, oh, so much, so constantly, think
of him every liour of every day, reproach herself
a little sometimes that she had not better appre-
ciated him. But the weight was lifted from her
heart, the clouds scattered, the sun appeared. Her
father wondered a little at the radiant face she
lifted to his an hour later.

That night she told her father of that smile, sit-
ting on his lap and smoothing with her fingera his
graying hair. " He is happy, papa, really happy.
If i did not know that, I should l)e wretched, but I
do know it, I am sure of it. Isn't it strange how

h.V>«1/k«rt«dA

illiJ

\ i'

iVl

140

HERBERT GARDEN KLL, JR.

miserably unhappy I was until he was fairly gone,
and then, at the last instant, as he disappeared,
the burden went also, and I felt satisfied, assuied
that he did not need me, was sufficient unto him-
self."

Mr. Gardenell did not undeceive her. There
was time enough. Lot her own heart reveal to
her its secret. That "golden smile," as she called
it, would do its own work, had already begun it
Like begets like. Souls big with maternity re-
produce their kind. From his study window he
had caught that parting glance and guessed its
object and its source; he had no doubt of its
mission.

;

'll!

i>*rj»x&j* KsTi^alj^ '■H^m. «i5i'»''~5t*»*'*j!i«i,'s?SAWi

pippwiwi i ll |ii <iliii i iii i ii|w i w p i > 'ww^'i»*

DEEPER LIFE.

141

CHAPTER XIII.

DEEPER LIFE.

" It is the lives lll:e the stars, wliich simply pour down on us
the calm light of their bright and faithful being, up to which
we look and out of which we gather the deepest calm and cour-
age.— Phillips Bkookb.

" His blessing comes not from our woik and labor, but from
yielding ourselves to His will."— Lauler.

" Cousin Herbert, I should like to have a
little talk with you."

" I know of nothing which would delight nie
more," was the reply, a« the young gentleman
looked np from the book in his hand to the
maiden, who stood, half bashfully, before him.

It is kind of you to wish to let cousin a bit
farther into your life. 1 assure you he appre-
ciates it."

He finds something to appreciate in every-
body," she replied, shaking her head smilingly.
" I wonder if that is the reason everybody appre-
ciates him?"

" Do they? Thank you. Sit down here beside
me. Aunt Jessie said she would be gone an hour ;
that will give us time for a long chat," seating her

«p.>fci»i*wrs';j->-

142

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

in a low rocker. " There," dropping into an easy
chair, " now I am ready, Rea."

Slie flushed, hesitated, and finally burst out, " I
am so little. Cousin Herbert."

He smiled. " Not an unpardonable thing in a
woman. I would hardly like to have you as large
iis myself, Ilea, though I supixwe I could bear
it."

She laughed. " Now you are teasing me," she
said, "• and I am very much in earnest. You must
not make fun of me, Herbert."

" I will try not to," he answered.

" I am not like you," she began again, and met
his smiling eyes.

" Just what I remarked a moment ago. Let me
assure you again that I am glad of it."

She half rose from her chair, " Shall I leave
you?' she asked. "Am I, then, such a bit of
folly that you have no earnest words for me ? "

" Indeed no," he replied, detaining her. " Teas-
ing is one of our family propensities, and has
grown by exercise. You seemed so much like
Olivfl bemoaning her shortcomings, I could not
deny myself the pleasuie of retort. I was always
the receptacle of her woes."

" Then, perhaps, you will know letter how to
deal with me, only I want to forewarn you I am
not in the least like her."

" Oh, you are not ! Pei-liaps I am the better
judge of that since you never saw her face,"
answered Herbert.

swufv* \>m»mm!^m-A"- ^

L, JR.

»ing into an easy

ly burst out, " I

nable thing in a
lave you aa large
ie I could bear

easing nie," she
'nest. You must

id.

n again, and met

ent ago. Let me
if it."

" Shall I leave
n, such a bit of
irds for me ? "
ling her. " Teas-
?nsities, and has
id 80 much like
igs, I could not
t. I was always

>w letter how to
rewam you I am

I am the better
' saw her face,"

adlMP

m i JilfJilJWit i' iy^'^W

DEEPER LIFE.

148

" I draw my conclusions irom such membere of
the famil}' as I have seen. She cannot be what I
am. So insignificant, untalented, — I simply am
and do nothing I "

"Except?" replied her listener. "Who ia
mother's right hand and father's comfort? Who
carries the care of this big house ? "

" Yes, of course such things — but they don't
count."

" Where?" he hiquired, " here ? you know how
they count here, and they surely count in heaven,
little woman." He was grave enough now.

"But," she hesitated, "everybody lives two
lives, the home life and the outside or woild life.
Of courae I am necessary to father and mother and
the girls. But the world, or even this village,
what do I do for them? What can I do for
either? I wonder and wonder. I look the ground
over carefully, but I haven't one talent."

" Really ? " asked Herbert in pretended aston-
ishment, for she was near to tears. " H this is
true, Rea, there is nothing required of you. But
you are the firet person I ever found so situated."

« Well," she admitted brokenly, " at least my
talents must be very small."

" Let me remind you of the words of our Lord :
♦ Do ye not yet understand, neither remember the
five loaves of the five thousand, and how many
baskets ye took up ? Neither the seven loaves of
the four thousand, and how many baskets ye took
up? ' Can you have less, comparatively speaking,

ri-'aiiaftBW*'^'** * *■ . ^ .». *

oMi^i.'^

ip^^

^\-i

V¥^--.'^i^.W^-S^'

144

UEUBKUT GARDENELL, Jit

tlian seemed those loaves and fishes before the
multitude that waited for bread?"

" But Jesus was there."

" And is He not liere ?" lie asked gently.

" Not just the same way, Cousin Herbert."

" Hut as truly, surely."

"To you? Yes. That is what troubles me.
Not that you have Him — His very presence — but —
that I have not, Herbert." She lifted her tearful
eyes to his. " I cannot recall any one conversation
you have had since comiiig to us such as people
would call religious, but you are never near, in the
room or even house, but that every one feels tenderer,
holier, nearer heaven and God, realize not only the
truth of His love and care but His presence, Him-
self, nigh at hand and not afa- off."

" I should be sad to know it could be otherwise,"
he made gentle reply, " for He is ever with me."

" I know it, everybody knows it. Your presence
brings Him near. John our hired man tacitly ad-
mitted as much the other day. 'I declare,' he
said, looking after you with such love and rever-
ence in his eyes as no one ever saw there before.
' I declare the angels tliemselves would want to
waalu their feathers when he was around.'"

" I am only a sinner washed myself," said he
humbly. " God forbid I should ever come between
the vision of my fellows and their God. He ought
to meet men first in every conseci-ated life."

" You need not fear," she answered quickly.
" None so ignorant but he must know your life is

mm»mm»jmmmimm

t troubles me.
resence — but —
ted her tearful
»e conversation
such as people
vernear, in the
e feels tenderer,
ize not only the
presence, Him-

l be otherwise,"
ver with me."

Your presence
man tacitly ad-
' I declare,' he
love and rever-
Y there before,
would want to
ound.'"
yself," said he
sr come between
Tod. He oug'it
ted life."
wered quickly,
now your life is

DEEPER LIFE.

145

something beside the product of human endeavor.
Even I know that there can be no life of power
without a God within it."

" Amen," said Heibert.

" But this is what troubles me, Herbert, I too
am a sinner w?vshed and forgiven : Yet my life has
no such power to either attract or help ; the hidden
spring is not in it."

" Perhaps because you w.ashed only your sin and
not youi-self in the Blood," he replied tenderly.
" There is great difference between the two things,
Rea, and both are necessary to highest results. If
I had not long since handed over self to Christ for
crucifixion your words could only have done me
harm this afternoon. But as it is I glorify God who,
out of such a weak, selfish human lieart as mine is
naturally, could yet make a vessel meet for His use."

" How shall I get there ? " v/hispered the girl.

" By surrendering your whole life, spirit, soul
and body once and forever to the Lord Jesus Christ.
Solemnly and unreservedly placing and having
yourself in His hands to be and bear and do all His
will. Then keep your eyes off of yourself, your
feelings, everything that makes up the old self life
and on to Jesus. Let Him take care of you, your
death to self, your resurrection to life. Once fully
His that is no longer your business. Your busi-
ness is to count thfit done which He consents to
do and rejoice evermore."

" But what if I 'should shrink afterwards, draw
back ? " under her breath.

■ * fA

!5a»RislBia«8M«WH***~"'

146

IIERBEliT GARDENELL, JR.

"■ lie will hold )-ou to your purpose if honest,
and wivit patiently until you are still enough in
His hands to let Him complete His work. I'liere
is no danger ou His side, and it is all His side when
nil given to Him. He will never yield again what
is once truly given to Him; hut we can hinder,
delay the woik hy our vacillation and impa-
tience."

" What if something in me refuses to he hound
to the altar?"

" Ask Him and trust Him to bring that thing to
willing surrender and never worry about it. Rea,
we can do nothing but will, that is our one great
endowment. It is for you to will youmelf w}iolly
His, and it is for Him to make you so. And if you
are not yet absolutely willing, if you are willing to
be made willing He will bring it to pass. Give
youi-self to the utmost of your ability, freely and
fully, and where you can no longer give, where
something within holds back, ask Him there to
come in and take. He will do it. He is only wait-
ing an invitation to enter and occupy all your be-
ing, filling you with the perfume of His grace and
blessing you with the fruitage of His love."

" Herbert I want to do this now, will you pray
with me ? " And the Lord hearkened and heard.

Did the young man imagine it, or was there from
that day an added loveliness in this girl's life ? If
it was imagination many shared it with him.

" Herbert," said her mother, " what spell have
you wrought on Fred, do you not notice how pe-

. l |til.Jll|lim i i::ii'Ji:

JR.

•jjose if honest,

itill iMioupl. in

work. I'liero

I Ilisside when
ulcl again what
ve can hinder,
)n and impsi-

es to he bound

\g tliat thing to

iibout it. Kea,

our one great

^ouraelf wholly

And if you

II are willing to
to pass. Give
ity, freely and

^er give, where
Him there to
He is only wait-
ipy all your be-
: His grace and
'is love."
, will you pray
lied and heard,
was there from
girl's life? If
with him.
hat spell have
notice how pe-

DKKFER LIFE.

147

cxiliarly tender and unselfish she is growing? Is
your spirit infectious ? Is there hope for nio ?"

"Jessie," said Mr. Rogei-a to his wife, "If our
little girl k<)ep8 on she will soon have wings. She
was always good enough, hut there's something
dif'^erentalxiut her and I'm not sure it's healthy."

" Nonsense," answered his wife. " She feels the
strong spiritual atmosphere Herbert brings with
him and grows fast as flowers will under favorable
conditions."

"How sweet Fred is of late," said Marion to
Elsie. " She grows more like you, thoughtful, and
quiet as if there was a joy inside that held her still.
I wonder if it is Cousin Herbert 1 He doesn't talk
much about religion, and yet he never talks any-
thing else. It is all through everything he says
and does ; there is not an inch of him that does not
make you feel God. I've seen him smile at Fred
as Mabel does when she is encouraging baby to
walk, and Fred looks sometimes as if she was near
to adoration. She had better be careful since he is
a cousin."

" He is no such thing," answered Elsie. " We
lika to think we are related to the Gardenells, but
we are not. Papa was only the adopted son of old
Farmer Walton, and Aunt Yensie was his niece.
They were thrown much together as seeming
cousins, and papa petted and stood up for her in so
brotherly a fashion that she always regards him as
such. She's very lovely. Mamma says she was
always papa's ideal of womanliness."

148

hkhukut uahdenkll, jh.

" Wliiit ill Die world are you liero for, Miss
Fred? Ii'h ho place for you, and you kiio'./ 1
don't like your i'lterfcrence."

" It isn't interference, it's bread, Niison, and I'm
setting it so you may have time to go to meeting
to-night."

" As if I cared anything for meeting. I'm none
of your pious kind."

" Put you '.vill be, won't you, old blossom, if
oniy to please your l)a'uyg/rl? If you'll be good
and sit still I v/ill braid your hair, and that will be
ready."

" I declare for it," muttered Nason to herself,
as she changed lier dress and arranged her bonnet,
" tiKit yirl will make a fool of me yet if slie keeps
on. I just can't resist her of late. She's getting
too good," dmwing the back of her hand across
lier eyes. " I'm not sure I like it. My mother
always said the good die young." And the mem-
bei-s of her own houseliold were not the only
pei-sons who noticed how fast this young life began
to ripen.

.^im^mmmmmmimnmmmmmKmimm

hero for, Misa
1 you kiio'./ I

N'iisoti, and I'm
go to meeting

ing. I'm none

)ld blogHom, if
you'll be good
nd that will be

ion to herself,
ed her bonnet,
et if alie keeps

She's getting
sr Imnd across
. My mother
And the nieni-

not the only
)uug life began

TWO HUlTOliH.

'"*" 'VWWifWfi'^A'l-i

CHAPTER XIV.

TWO 8UITOK8.

" Love, Earth's lord, must have his, lorUly will."— Paul H.
Haynk

With the exception of Nason, busy in the
kitchen, Herbert was the only pei^on in the great
farm-house. Mr. Rogera and his men were busy
in the fields, Mrs. Rogers and the girls Imd taken
a long drive to call on a family recently come to
these parts and neglected thus far through the ill-
ness of the before-named gentleman. He had been
pressed to join them, but excused himself, as there
were letters he ought to write.

The fii-st page of the finst epistle was hardly
completed, however, when, glancing up, he dis-
covered a tall, lank, awkward-looking specimen of
humanity coming up the walk toward the house.
The stranger mounted the front tstcrs and walked
across the piazza directly to the window and peered
in as if seeking to see somebody. His eyes met
Herbert's with evident disappointment.

" I s'pose Fredreeky's round somewhere ? " iio
inquired anxiously through the screening.

" iiiHL'UlliiM»M*''«'i'" •

„ , f.. . J. .

'.>i

KiO

IIKUHKHT UAIlDkWKLL, J It.

\< \\

At tlie Higl.t of tl.c big, roiiiul face, nnd prniiu-
neiit lii ht oyos, IKulHJit was iviiuikI.mI fcicil.iy of
his couHin's desciiption of SiliwCmwdon, Ihonioin-
iiig of his arrival at tlie farm. VVhon " Fredreeky "
foil from the man's li|,H ho had not a doubt of his
identity.

" No; she has gone away this afternoon."
" I s'poso she'll be Iwick soon ? "
" Not until quite late, I fear."
The man left the window and came round to the
door, walking in and helping himself to a chair.

" I s'pose," ho said, Ix'ginning his further re-
marks with the expression used twice before, " I
s'poso now you're the chap from the East that Vvo
heern tell on ? You was took sick, it seems ? "

' Yes. I am from New York, and have been
sick, as I l)elievo you have been also, Mr. f 'rowdcn.
I am glad to see you are improving in health as
well as myself."

Mr. Crowden's face lighted. He felt flattered.
This stranger had heard of him. Herbert, on his
part, was also reaching favorable conclusions.
This man was not so ill-appearing after all as one
might have supposed who heard Fied's description
of his charms. He certainly had little Ijeauty to
boast—" full moon " exactly expressed the cast (;f
his countenance — he was certainly rmgh, ignorant,
uncouth, and inclined to self-importance, but, as
this gentleman judged, neither gross nor lacking in
a certain manliness of intent and purpose however
misapplied.

I, .Hi.

TWO SVITOUa.

161

face, nnd j)rniiii-
iidcd fdicildy <»f
)\vdf!i, thonioni-
>il " Fiechei'ky "
>t a doubt of iii8

ftcinooii."

mo louiul to the
ilf tt) a t'liair.
liis furtlier ro-
wieo before, " I
e East tliat I've
:, it seems ? "
and have been
), Mr. Crowdcii.
ng ill health as

! felt flattered.
Flerbert, on his
e conclusions,
lifter nil ns one
-'d's description
little lx3au(y to
ised the cast (;f
^''{?J»' ignorant,
•rtaiice, but, aa
i nor lacking in
irpose however

•' Wanl, yes, I am gittin' along, thank ye.
You'ie a pai-son, it Keems, and n cousin of Frcd-
reeky's '! " going on with IiIh investigations.

" I am certainly a minister," answered Ilerliert
smiling, '*aad Miss Kogers calls mo her cousin,
but there is no tie of blood l»ctween us."

" CJhecwhacky 1 yer don't say so. I K'[>o8e now
you're fond of her ? ''

" I certainly am," admitted the gentleman
smiling.

" An' she sets her eyes by you ; everybody says
BO. They say as liow shi} waited on you by inches
when you was sick."

" She and Mi-s. Rogers have certainly Ixjeu de-
voted nurses, no man could ask better."

The westerner looked puzzled. How much did
this non-committal young man care for this maiden ?
" You're pious," he said slowly, " gal's run to
religion. I never had none to speak of, though
it's a good thing. Fredreeky's pious, an' it's not
the worst thing in a gai, especially when she's the
purtiest and smartest thing for miles around. I
'spose now she really likes you, Mr. Garden —
Garden — it's something alx»ut gardening?"

" Gardenell," suggested Herbert, wondering
where all this would tend.

" I'm a good mind to tell you the whole buz'ness
and ask your advice ; that's what yoii parsons are
for, I take it ? " frankly. Again the young man
smiled, he had found wiser men than Silas Crowden
with the same idea of his vocation.

-4.<«i.

, ?»'

1.V2

UKltllKHT (iAHhKSKl.l., Jit.

»♦ I slmll bo happy to li»?lp you if it ia in my
power, Mr. Crowdeii," he Hiiid.

" Willi, I don't know iw 'ii« 'ziiekly, but you can
jtulgo for yourself. I think ii good lot of Fred-
reeky, I luight'H well own thiit up funt thing, for
it's true."

"That's honorable," said Herbert. "No man
need over be aHham(!'l to own an lionest love for a
noble woman. It hosiors him and her alike."

The mull's eyes siioiie, he extended his hand.
"Good for you, parson ; you'll do, I'm thinkin'.
Wall, as I said ai'ore, I like Fredreeky, and I'm
well fixed, with a fust-iilass farm and a lot of cash
and eattle, and all thiit, ami a woman who is after
me hot foot, only I had my heart sot on this one,
do you see.''

" ¥(!.■«, I see."

" T'other one she's a good cretur, a real good
cretur, and nussed mo through the fever, an she's
j\8 sot on bavin' me, as I am on bavin' this one."

IlL'il)crt nodded. " I think I nndti-stand your
predicament, Mr. Crowden. Your heart seems
leading you in one direction and your judgment
in another. You cannot help a certain leaning, a
certain tenderness, for the woman who has proved
her devotion to you, and yet "

" You've hit it 'zackly, Mr. Garden ; I'm in a sort
of mixed-up state of mind, and t'other one is
pressin' nic hard, an' it's got to be settled at once."

" I see. Now I wonder whether you will take
my advice after 1 give it? "

•belt. " No man
honu8t love for a
1 her ulike."
lended Iuh hand,
do, I'm thinkin'.
edreeky, and I'm

and a lot of cash
man who is after

sot on this one,

mmgifmimfmm

retur, a real good
ho fever, an she's
lavin' this one."

niidci'stand your
four heart seems
d your judgment
certain leaning, a
II who has proved

■den; I'm in a sort
d t'otlier one is
e settled at once."
ler you will take

TWO HUIWUS.

168

•» Sailin Buro, nnh'Hs it's too Mg a doso to
Kwallow. Mr. (larden, you think my chances are
jiurty slinj with Fredriu'ky?"

"Well, yes. I think tlieyaro. You have heard
the ohl saw, 'A bird in the liand is worth t\v(» in
tiie hush.' A woman wlio liivs already proved her
devotion by nursing you through a severe illness
is not to bo lightly esteemed."

" You're right there, parson, solid right. I've
thoMght of that myself, even if she isn't so young or
so handsum as this one. Hut my heait is awful
sot on Fredreeky. She's skittish and ollish. But
the stuff's there, I allow, and get her once to likin'
a fellow and she'd aick to him through thick and
thin. I W(m't say I'm not well puzzled atween
em both, t'other one btnng allays arter mo, and I
iHjin' allys arter this one."

" I judge from your estimate of my cousin, Mr.
Crowden, that you have a mind of your own and
one capable of seeing two sides of a question," said
Herbert witli tl>e wisdom of tho serpent, thinking
he saw a way to servo Fred and her would-be lover
at one and the same time. " Now I put it to you
as a gentleman, is it quite fair for a man to thrust
his attentions on a lady after he finds they are
disagreeable to her ? "

Mr. Crowden winced, but he offered no remark,
and his adviser proceeded.

" You can understand that a person of Miss
Rogei-s' temperament is subject to strong prejudices
and apt to misjudge any one who presses her too

■kSKI

ipn^

154

IIKUUERT GAIWENELL, JR.

^ m

If I

closely oil any question. After a second's consider-
ation too, you w-M see that she is very unlikely to
change lier mind Avheu once made up. In my
judgment the best way for one in earnest to win
her favor 'voukl 1m) to act moderately, indifferently,
in fact let licv alone until she makes some advance
herself. If a friend of mine wore so unfortunate
as to be out of favor with her, I should advise him
to use extreme caution if ho desired to be reinstated
in lier affection. The less he troubled her with his
presence and attention the better for his cause."

" I guess you're right, pareon," admitted liis
listener, slowly. " But this here question's got to
be settled at once. A fellow that's pressed himself
can't be over and above cautious. Yet I s'pose it's
hardly Avoith while for a feller to waste time a
follerin' wliai. he's never sure of ketching."

"Just so,' assented Herbert, " especially when
one more appreciative is waiting a nod to follow
him."

" You're right there, young man, solid right.
That's just what the t'other one is doin', waitin'
anxiously for a nod, and givin' me a nudge now
ar,d agin, to let me know she's waitin'. I declare
to it, I'm a mind to settle the whole thing this
very night, an' give her the nod and ease her mind,
for she's a worriting over the thing and no mis-
take. She's a good cretur, Mr. Garden, and a
good housekeeper and manager ; a man could do
worse. I s'pose now Fredreeky'U be settling in the
East?" questioningly.

■t"^r-5i^it4?;^'i:

j|4, »i i i .m. i ,tn i i) ;i - ' ;iini

'LL, JR.

I second's coiisider-
.8 very unlikely to
nade up. lu my
in earnest to win
itely, indifferently,
akes some advance
Fire so unfortunate
should advise him
red to be reinstated
mbled her with his
r for his cause."
an," admitted his
•e question's got to
it's pressed himself
. Yet I s'pose it's
!r to waste time a
ketching."

" especially when
', a nod to follow

man, solid right,
le is doin', waitin'
me a nudge now
ivaitin'. I declare
! whole thing this
ind ease her mind,
Jung and no mis-
Ir. Garden, and a
; a man could do

II be settling in the

TWO SUITORS.

165

" I really don't know, Mr. Crowden. I think she
will be apt to settle wherever her lieart leads her."

" P'raps you'll ride oyer and see me before you
go Eivst, Parson," said the Westerner, on departing.
" I'd like to show you over the place, and I'll
introduce you to the t'other one. P'raps," rather
shamefacedly, " you'd be willin' to hitch us, seein'
as I've taken your advice ? "

" Gladly," answered Herbert, heartily shaking
hands with him. " Let me know when you need
my services and they will be freely yours."

As the family were about to leave the late supper-
table that evening, Nason broke forth : " I think I
saw Si Crowden hangin' around this afternoon,
Miss Fred."

" Si Crowden," cried the girl, in dismay. " Is
he able to be out again ? What did he want? "

"Ask those that saw him," answered the woman
with a meaning glance at Herbert as she left the
room. Of course all eyes were turned toward the
young man.

" My advice and my services," he answered to
their questioning.

*' Advice ! " cried Elsie and Fred in a breath.

" He's one of Fred's admirei-s," volunteered
Marion. " Poor Fred is one of the unfortunates
with whom everybody falls in love."

" Mai ! " said her sister, reprovingly.

" What advice did you give him?" asked Mr.
Rogera, guessing the probable situation.

" I advocated enthusiastically the cause of tho

156

HERIiEIiT GARDENELL, JR.

devoted female who nui-sed him in ickness and is
ready to cheer him in health."

" Did you win your cause ? "

" Most surely, and an invitation to officiate at
his wedding."

" Are you going, cousin ? " asked Marion, clap-
ping her hands, ecstatically.

" Certainly, and I will take you with me if yon
are good. Rea, you have lost one follower for-
ever."

Sho rose with a flushed face and came to his
side. " Are you sure ? " she a.sked.

" Quite sure," he answered, smiling into her
eyes.

" How can I thank you ? "

" Get your wrap and take a turn with me in the
orchard, where I can answer you better."

" Don't go far, childreji," cried Aunt Jessie, as
she saw them stroll off under the trees. " Re-
member, Herbert, you are not strong enough yet
to be out after sundown."

He turned and wafted her a kiss. " Youi-s obe-
diently," he laughed.

An hour afterward as they stood together on the
piazza, he said to this same woman, " Aunt Jessie,
I have a great favor to a«k you."

" It is granted l)efore asked," she answered
gaily, extending to him her hand.

" It is not your hand, but your daughter's, I
ask," he said, taking the little palm nevertheless
between both his own.

^■^i i^ ^

iaMiiMW« i > «w« i ii»

' M ' ^. ?W WJ ! ""a^'^""' ' ^"?^gjgi*^iP'" ? ^""""''

in ickness and is

on to officiate at

ked Marion, clap-

11 with me if you
3ne follower for-

and came to his
:ed.
smiling into her

irn with me in the
. better."

d Aunt Jessie, as

the tiees. " Re-

trong enougli yet

iss. " Youi-s obe-

od together on the
an, " Aunt Jessie,

1," she answered

our daughter's, I

palm nevertheless

TIVO SUITORS.

157

y i.^iX"=bSr4 T J

" Herbert I It isn't possible 1 You can't be in
love with my Fred ? "

" Aunt Jessie, it is more than possible, i*. is
certain that I am in love Avith my Ilea," he re^^)lied,
smiling at lier astonishment.

" You don't know how happy you make me. I
am flattered, ho'"^ved."

" Let me return your words with interest, you
best auntie in the world, but you must not forget
it may mean Africa for your darling."

" Yes, I know," she answered with a sigh,
'' but surely God luis grace for me as for other
mothers — for yours. And, Herbert, I know I
would rather have her with you in Africa than
with anylwdy else^ though next door." And she
pui up her arms and drew his face down and kissed
him.

" Fred, my boy, my only son, I am proud of
you, and want to kiss you," cried this woman a
little after as she entered her daughter's room,
surprising her in her night-robe. " Do you know,"
taking the girl in her arms, " that you have won
the grandest heart that beats in any bosom in all
this broad United States? What! crying! and
yet the possessor of such wealth. Fie on you!
Herbert did not weep when he told me his joy."

" But he is big and could shine it out of his
beautiful eyes, and I am little and have only my
teai-s," looking up humbly through tliem. " It
seems like a dream, mother, a beautiful dream that
can never be quite true. It is surely impossible

„wemifsm>U'^-"--

^.^

. . ^ ■ i... . .. ; . j,i . ^ r .v : .. ' I'V

1&8

UEIiBElir OARDENELL, JR.

that I should ever really he his wife. I cannot
tell what it means to me that he should say he
loves me. I cannot think it, I can only feel it
and hold it close to he sure it is true. I could not
helieve it at all only he has said it, and that makes
it indisputable. But, mother, gmnd and noble as
he is, he does not love me as I love him. He
cannot. I^ is impossible, because I am so un-
wu.thy of much and he so worthy of more than
any woman could possibly give, though she render
all, as I do. I ^ho was never so insignificant as
now."

" Oh, what reasoning ! Aa if the worthier
could not offer most. Look up, my pink, be sure
Herbert Gardenell could never choose insignifi-
cance. His choice has crowned you. What a
wonderful woman I must be," laughing and kiss-
ing the maiden's cheek, " to mother such daughters,
the lowliest of which has proven herself fit for the
peemge of heaven ! "

iiiPililliilllllM^^

iiliRiiiii

:ll, jr.

8 wife. I cannot

he should say lie

I can only feel it

true. I could not

it, and that makes

fmnd and noble as

I I love him. He

iuse I am so un-

»ithy of more than

, though she render

80 insignificant a^

I if the worthier
3, my pink, be sure
r choose insignifi-
ed you. What a
laughing and kiss-
lier such daughters,
n herself fit for the

AFRICA.

160

CHAPTER XV.

AFRICA.

" O my heart as white sails shiver,

And crowds are passing and hands stretch wide
How liard to foilow, with ; ii tliat quiver,
That moving speck on tlie Jar-off side 1"

J KAN INOELOW.

" There amid the droppings of celestial speech,
Think you we may forget eacli said to each
' Good-bye, dear Love, good-bye ? '"

S. R. G. C.

It was some weeks before Mi-s. Gardenell was
able to be moved, and then her physicians hung
over her with the utmost anxiety. Had they not
feared the heat of the city they would hardly have
consented to her removal on any condition. But
no evil attended it, and she gained fast under the
delicious country air and fare. Slowly but surely
slie was coming back to life and her family, and
llieir joy seemed complete when at List she could
lie on the couch in their midst, joining in their con-
versation and song^,

It was a sorrow to the whole family v/hen they
found Lenore could not accompany them to Bloom-
ingle. Mr. Gardenell had, before this, furnished
a competent cook, sure that the entire charge of the

160 IIFAtBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

house too was much for the slender girl. Tliey hail
prevailed on her to remain with them, however,
doing some of the lighter work, for she had grown
very dear to the nieml)ei-s of the household. Mr.
Gardenell regarded her very much in the light of
another daughter, and treated her with the affec
tionate considei-ation he always tendered Olive.
His wife had come to depend much on her firm but
gentle touch, her quiet voice and step, and, as she
grew stronger, lK>th girls took turns in relieving
nui-ae, and in reading to her. To them each this
stranger had become one of themselves— a part

of their family life.

It was to Olive who was descanting on the beau-
ties of Bloomingle, and laying plans for their
future enjoyment, that Lee first said it would be
imoossible for her to go. Her words were met
by a storm of regret, and grief., and argument.

"I cannot, will not, go witlu/ot you," Olive de-
clared. „

"Mother cannot, must not, do without me,
Lenore returned. " Indeed I must not think of it.
There is an opening for me at Madam's. I am no
longer necessary here ; you can get along without

'^ Now you are cruei" was the reproachful reply.
" As if we could ever do without you again. As
if your work was what we cared for and not your-
self " And Lee kissed her friend, trying to com-
foit her, assuring her that never before had any
love been as satisfactory to her as was Olive s, tliat

."*".'4»-'

L, JR.

r girl. They had
them, however,
or she had grown
household. Mr.
h in the light of
er with the affec-
tendered Olive,
ih on her firm but
I step, and, as she
urns in relieving
them each this
emselves — a part

AFHICA.

IGl

nting on the beau-
plans for their
said it would be

• words were met

md argument.

vt you," Olive de-
do without me,"

lUst not think of it.

Madam's. I am no
get along without

B reproachful reply,
lut you again. As
i for and not your-
end, trying to com-
ver before had any
as was Olive's, that

never before had any s[)ot so seemed like home,
tliiit only because slie knew it tol>e tlie will of God
hiid she been able to look forward to this parting
lieiself. Unable to move her from her purpose,
Olive appealed to lier father. He promised to do
liis Ijest, and summoned Lee to the study.

' My dear child, I am sorry to hear you feel un-
able to accompany us to Bloomingle ; can nothing
change your decision ? "

Nothing, sir, since I have not decided for my-
self," she answered modestly.

" We will make it very pleasant for you, Lenore."

" I do not doubt that," she replied. " I have
never been happier than since I came to live with
you. But you know we are to choose, not ease, but
God's will."

The gentleman laid a gentle hand on her head.
" You have been an apt scholar, Lee, since you
have learned so much so early. But I have been
wondering if your mother could not go with us
to.)."

" You are kind, but it is impossible."

He smiled. " I have not tried my persuasive
powers yet. Perhaps I can convince her how
much the change will benefit you both."

She looked very much startled.

" O no, sir, you will not t'.iink of that, you will
not, you must not, try to see mamma. She would
never allow it." The distress in her voice was
most real. Olive was right when she declared her
friend had some secret sorrow.
II

i im ^i ¥tA i^imim»»immmmmmi^

182 IJEItliERT GAIiDEyELL, JR.

"I certainly wll do nothing that can grievo
yon," he hastened to say. " T «n. yom friend. Lee,
and you have been a great blessing to us. We dis-
like to give you up, but will not trouble you s
there no way I can serve you, my child ? Would
you not 'ike to teach?"
' »In(:.",edI w. uld, and I have been thoroughly

educated." , ,

" I have a friend who keeps a select school to"

'oung ladies. She needs a German teacher. 1

suppose you are not acquainted with that Ian-

n u

" It is my mother's favorite tongue I seldon.
read to her in any other. Is this school in the

city, sir ? " . a "

» No, it is in another part of the State.

» I could not go, Mr. Gardenell, I thank you
very much for your thonghtfulness," she said.

" Then it seems I cannot help you at all ?

" Mr. Gardenell," she replied earnestly, " you
always help me just by being yourself."

He smiled kindly.

" Let me lave your address, dear, I may be able

to c*-'- y^u "" ope'""g »" '^"^ "^ ''''' '''^^' """^'"f '
some day. In the meantime do not forbid me the

privilege of rememl)ering you in little ways as I
do Olive." He took her hand in his. "What you
choose to withhold from me, my child, I do not
even ./ish to know. But the privilege of a friend,
a father, in caring for you, I covet. Do not deny
me that."

»■•* " "'^'*^!r5S'' '

AFRICA.

108

Jli.

lat can grievo
lui frieiul. Leu,
o us. We cli.T
•ouble you. Is
shiki ? Would

jen thoroughly

ilect school fo'*
lan teac^iier. 1
with that lau-

)ngue I seltloir.
J school in the

State."

ill, I thank you
s," she said,
ouatall?"

earnestly, "you
rself."

fvr, I may be able
our city schools
lot forbid me the
little ways as 1
[lis. " What you
y child, I do not
/ilege of a friend,
3t. Do not deny

She h ;'»ope.l iinpnlsivfly and kissed the hniid
Miat held hers ; he felt a tear fall on it.

"All that concern Miy own life I would gladly
open to your inapeolion," she said brokenly, "did
not the life of .notlier, Ixmnd up with it, close my
1h)8. BuL your love," with a sob, " Oh, 1 thank yon
lor that. I shall go out into life stronger and
twtter because of it — richer" drawing a long
breatli. " 1 never knew, until I came here, wliat
human, love might mean. Earth can never be dark
or drear to one who has a friend on earth and a
Friend in heaven."

He kissed her tenderly, asking God to bless l..
How barren this child's life must have been o la
earth side, how evi<lently luxuriant on the d ,'i>:
since she had become what she was I An ii ;-
she went to her rov -n and her mirror and b k.d o
her own face and gently touched it. Slu , imo'-t
dreaded to wash the spot where a father's i. . ^ ixd
fallen.

Her father had failed. Olive was disconso-
late.

" It takes away half of the joy of Bloomingle,"
she cried. " Just as I find a sister — after waiting
for her for years — she is taken from me. It's too
bad."

" And do I lose nothing ? " queried her fviend,
in gentle reproof. "I feel as if I could poorly
spare you, Olive. But I'm bo glad I'\e had you
a little while. It has been like a bit of fairy-land
to be with you in this home. It will color all my

. -il

n-.«j3^{i^^|fjgl^^)|^^^j)A4||j^«M»!>iMMU«fe';i'^ '

ii ni ili l l , l » I II . I i iw, i iii i »tm i iyju ji . i Ijll l l i pj l

'■"mi'mm;mm^B% \

164

UERUEHT GAIWENELL, .III.

life, it cnn never l)o gmy iignin. I Hlinll ahvayu iiuve
these blessed days to ietiieml)er."

" You will let lue write to you," said Olive,
Kuddenly conscieuce-sinitteii witli lier friend'H
8(»now and lier own selfishness. " You will let nie
hhare with you all of lilooiningle a pon can carry,
and you will promise to come out if only for an
oecasional day ? "

" Perhaps," assented Lenore doubtfully. " You
may write if you send the letters to Madam's, and
I'll come for a day if mother caii Bj)are nie," and
that was all she could j)romise.

Bloomingle and Herbert I for ho came the next
week after they got settled there. Jle did not
delay long after he was able to endure the journey.
He felt he must see his mother.

" I can recruit at old Bloom," ho answered to
Mi"H, Roger's suggestion that he should delay
awhile longer. " The siglu of n.other is all that
is necessary to comj)leto my recovery."

Of course the young man told his parents and
sister immediately of the new ties he had assumed,
and Olive at least was inconsolable. She up-
braided him with failing her.

"I never could have believed you'd love some-
body else, Ilervie," she 8obl)ed. " There I jilted
poor Stanton for your sake, and now — and now

" further than this she seldom got. And no

words of his seemed to bring permanent soothing.

But time, that great healer of everything —
liearts included — cauie to her help. After a few

mummimmm

i!. i ni ii ..i> !l i i .,n | un,i i , ' ii|^ i fi! i

NfMpi

' .a

Jii.

nil alwayu iiuve

I," said Olive,
her fricnd'H
k'oii will let nie
pen can caiTy,
. if only for an

)tful]y, " You
1 Madam's, and
4t)are me,

AFRICA.

165

" and

came the next

He did not

re the journey.

10 answered to

should delay

thcr is all that

lis parents and
le hud assumed,
ible. She up-

•u'd love some-
There I jilted
now — and now
1 got. And no
anent soothing.
f everything —
». After a few

days her sorrow grew less, seeniud indeed forgot-
ten for long Htretuhus togetlusr, until a letter from
Fredricii or some other ciruumsUvnce brought it to
her reniembmnce.

It was genuine joy in spite of all drawbacks to
hive her brother at home. The evil day was yet far
olY ; she would enjoy him while she might. She
li;i(l needed and wius ready foi' a rest. Tliey had
l)lenty of help, she could be a.s lazy as she pleased,
and the l>oys, Herbert, Harry and Eddie, tt'ree de-
voted cavaliere, were assiduous in their attentions
to her and mamma. If it had not been for Stanton
Cartwright and Fredrica Rogers she would have
been perfectly happy, she told hemelf, and she
tried to banish them from her thoughts.

Lee came for a day, but Herl)ert was away, and,
unfortunately, as his sister thought, did not see
her. She was very anxious he should meet her
friend and pass his opinion upon her. Why could
he not love Lee ? She would like her for a sister.

It was a delightful day to the visitor, however
much she would have liked to meet one of wliom
she had so often heard. Mr. Gardenell and his
younger sons did everything in tiieir power to en-
hance her pleasure. What with games in the
morning, a ride, and a quiet hour listening to one
of the gentlemen read in the afternoon, and a de-
lightful song in the early evening before train-time,
her day was pressed full. It gave her foofl for
many happy honi-s afterward. How favored Olive
was, what a vision of ideal home-life she had en-

■as*sfei«tea«t*»-*»wi*i*w*'*aws****»«"**^^

">\.

w^mpitmm^mm

100

UKTinKIlT OARDKNKll, JR.

joyed, how kind of licr lioiiveiily Father to give
litT iheHO tiisttis of hlfssiMliK'.ss I Wliiit inuHt it be
to libido ill HUcli ail tiliiiosplieru. OUvo'h lultei-H
were a grunt duligiit V.\ tlio lonely girl. She was
ft charmiii'^ coiTesjHUideiit, wrote often, and ftlwiiys
of the tliiiigH ocfuiiiiig alK>nt her and of her own
peculiar trials and teniptatioiiH. She had made a
conlidante of liCc, and into her hi-art she poured all
that moved her hoiiI. It was a pectuliar experience,
Lenore'8 fii-st girlfriend. She loved, a<U)rod,
crowned her. It was good for her, the new in-
terest enlarged her life, taxing her prayers and
sympathios in n natural and therefore healthful
manner.

So summer ended, and early fall came, and with
it a letter from Stanton with unexpected news.
He was to start within a month for Africa. It
was like a thunderl)olt out of a clear sky, striking
terror to Olive's soul, bringing a tender, brooding
awe to Herbert's, who had never dreamed his friend
would go forth without him.

" It is very sudden," Stanton wrote, " but you
know I iun always ready. It seems they need
some one at once and I have l)een selected. I am
not sorry. Your new relations might delay yon,
old fellow, and in any case you do not need me as
you might if going alone. It appeai-s to be God's
way for me ancl, therefore, my way for myself. I
will have to spend most of the time left me here
with mother. There are many things to be at-
tended to afore I can leave her. I shall probably
have only a few hours with you all before sailing.

.i.Ui-*-^Ai.'.ii^.JlH%.tA^^i^SiU.%-:. .>.--^^-

mmmmmmm

L, JR.

■ Krtther to givo
Wliiit inuHt it Ihj

Olivo'n It'lleis
Y girl. Slio WHS
•fteii, and alwiiys

Hiul of her own
Silt) liiul iimdu a
lit sIk) pourudall
uliiir experience,

loved, adored,
ler, the new in-
ter prayei's and
ireforo healthful

i came, and with
(expected news,
for Africa. It
ear sk)', striking
tender, brooding
•earned his friend

v^rote, " but yon
leems they need

selected. I am
light delay you,
< ii(<t need nie as
ears to be God's
y for myself. I
Tie left me here
things to be at-

I shall probably
11 before sailing.

AFfllCA.

107

Ho knows lH!Ht. Wo will have all eternity in which
to talk it over. I'ray for me.

" Stanton."

October already. Another montli and ho would
Iw gt)iie, and she would only have one more little
glimpse of his face. Olive felt the solid earth reel
iMMK'iith her; how could she let liiin go from her
forever? Oh, how her heart trembled, thou"h
her li{)8 were ke])t ho still.

She grow suddenly anxious to get buck to the
city. A week ago she would have deprecated
such a move, have urged that her mother — almost
her olden self again, beginning to pick up her
jKist duties and privileges — needed yet a longer
sojourn in the pleasant country haunts. Hut now
every other consideration was lost in one ; to bo
where she could see most of and be nearest to
Stanton Cartwright when he came.

And he came. But, oh, for such a moment as
it seemed to her ! Tho sound of his voice sent a
sort of madness through her blood, the glance of
his eye made her heart quiver, and her eyes droop.
She lived a sublime torture, an agony of joy in tiie
few houi-s lie was with them and life, for a time,
lost all its woi'th when he was gone.

They were all together in the i)arlor that one
night of his stay : father, mother, Herbert, Harry,
Eddie and hei-self. Her poor trembling self, watch-
ing him furtively when unobserved, her whole
being a sort of human sponge absorbing his every

py t 'fWWW^'

168

UFAiBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

look, and word, and act. The evening fled so fiist !
To-morrow he would talce the steamer and say
" good-bye " as now he said " good-iiigl\t." She
envied Herbert with his arm about his friend's
neck ; her mother, with her lifted face and cling-
ing kiss ; her father's embrace and, " My dear boy."
Even Harry and Eddie could take liberties with
liim she dared not. Yet he belonged to her as ho
did to no c "rer, to her, even though she had shut
him out with her own hand, shut him out from
herself forever.

It was a gentle good-night, a tender press are of
the hand. But she fled from it as from a blow and
spent the whole night tossing on her couch, mourn-
ing because slie could not weep.

He was in the house, near her. She knew the
room, the bed, in which he slept beside Herbert.
Only a few steps if she willed, an opened door, and
she might look upon his face. But to-morrow —
to-morrow all her world would sail down the bay
and out to sea and she would be desolate — desolate.

She lieard the first fall of his step in the hall
next morning. She had been listening for it for
lioura. She must see liim once alone, if but for a
moment, must say one last word before his depart-
ure. Yet she hardly dared go out to meet him,
let him quite pass her door before she stopped him
with her low, broken, " Stanton." He halted,
turned and came to meet her.

"Good-morning," lie said, with one of his -.-are
Bmiles. " Do you want me, Olive ? "

LL, JR.

eningfledso fast I
steamer and say
jood-iiigl'.t." She
about his friend's
jd face and cling-
d, " My dear boy."
ike liljerties with
»nged to lier lis ho
»ugh she had shut
ut him out from

tender pressure of

IS from a, blow and

her couch, mouni-

r. She knew the
it beside Herbert.
1 opened door, and

But to-morrow —
sail down the bay
lesolate — desolate.
1 step in the hall
istening for it for
alone, if but for a

before his depart-
3ut to meet him,
e she stopped him
on." He halted,

th one of his -.-are
re?"

*>i

AFRICA.

160

" Y(?s, oh, yes I I want you to forgive me, to —
ti)- " how strong is woman's pride. " Oh, Stanton,
is tliere nothing I can do to please you before you

" I think there is," he said, and she glanced up .
eagerly. How wan and haggard and hollow-eyed
she looked 1 Poor little girl! would she never
cease blaming herself for the past ? He took both
lier liands in his gently. " I want to leave you
two prescriptions, and you must promise me to
tike them daily until I return. One you have
taken before, ' I will trast and not be afraid.'
Tlie other is ' All things work together for good to
them that love God.' We love God. Ollie."

She shuddered. " That is dreadful, that last
one. ' All things I ' that might mean death."

" Yes," he said, " that might mean death, but
never eternal death, never death without life in
it. You would not have me risk less for my Christ
than a soldier risks for his country ? Olive, I want
to see you happy, glad, nothing could please me
more ; let mo tell you how ; there is but one way
to be always so; it is found by centring all the
springs of life in God."

Her eyes and lips drooped, but she did not
reply.

" Perhaps you would like to do something else for
my sake," he said, " something very hard?

" Yes, I would," she whispered.

He benthia dear brown eyes on here, and stooped
low to say it : " Take tlie sister Herbert briugs you

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170

UKnilEllT GARDEN ELL, Jit.

close to youi" heart, OUie. As close as I would take
Herbert if you bioutjlit him to me for a brother."

Something glistened on her cheek ; it dropped
on the hand that held hei-s.

" Can you do so much for my sake ? " he asked.
" I will do it for your sake," she made reply. " I
have been very wrong and stubborn in that and every-
thing. I will forgive her for loving Herbei-t for
your sake, Stanton."

He smiled a little at the way she put it. " Is
there nothing else you would like, Stanton ? " She
asked humbly.

" You might write to little mother, she will
miss her big boy so much, aiid she knows you are
my friend. She has seen your picture ; you re-
member you sent me a little one when I was at
college, dear."

"Don't you want another? I have one taken
recently ; it is more like me." She was off and
back with the photfjgraph in her hand Itefore he
could say yes or no.

He held it up, and looked gravely at the sw et
face.

" You give me this," he said, " to go with me to
the Dark Land? I cannot tell you howl thank
you and how I shall prize it. I will look at it when
my heart gets lieavy. It will be a recipe for home-
sickness ; a bit of home always at hand."

Her teara were falling fast from her drooping
eyes. "Is there anything else you would like,
Stanton ? "

m^imf"

mwfiwiwiip'

ppi

SLL, Jit.

lose as I would take
ne for a brother."
cheek ; it dropped

sake ? " he asked,
le made reply. " I
rn in that and every-
loving Herbei-t for

y she put it. " Is
;e, Stanton?" She

I mother, she will
she knows you are
r picture ; you re-
ne when I was at

I have one taken

She was off and

ler hand liefore he

ravely at the sw ,et

" to go with me to
I you how I thank
will look at it when
e a recipe for home-
. at hand."
from her drooping
e you would like,

AFRICA.

171

" Yes, dear. You make me bold. I would like a
letter occasionally to put beside the picture."

" You shall have it," she faltered.

Then he lifted her suddenly to his arms, and
folded lier closely to his bosom. " God keep you,"
lie whispered, as he placed one clinging kiss on her
lips and gentlj* standing her on her feet turned to
where Herbert patiently waited at the end of the
corridor.

The tender solemnity of his face checked the
question on her brother's lips, but Stanton answered
it.

" No," he said gravely. " She would have re-
fused me nothing I might ask this morning. But
I could not take advantivge of her little conscien-
tious heart, sorrowing over this parting, to further
my own ends. God expects us to be men, Herv."

And from her end of the liall, Olive saw and
felt the lofty seriousness of his countenance. It was
like the face of a aiau who has turned from all
else but heaven.

And after that, what? The dock, the steamer,
the on-looking crowd, the touch of a hand, the
i^fjiince of an eye, and then the awful loneliness,
and heart-sinking as he drifted out of reach, until
the grand, upright figure became the veriest speck
on the horizon of vision, then disappeared.

And Olive stood looking into space, and heed-
ing nothing, not even Herbtjrt's voice in her ear,
Herbert's touch on her arm. Her love overtook,
out-ran, steamer and lover. Time and space were

,..■1

*''<*ai!8Si^S*t*f*siW''<i* ■"-!*'•"•'''* '^*'^'**'*'^^''*'^

MflffiSH*''*'*'''

172

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

annihilated. Henceforth one spot of earth held
her heart, and soul, and vision; her love and
prayers. One word formed itself on her lips as
she lookjd vacantly into the face of her brother.
It was — " Afbica I "

liiiniiiPPPHiiMi

.AN ACCIIiENT.

CPAPTER XVI.

AN ACCIDENT.

" To-morrow the paradoxes of earth may reappea" as the
demonstrations of heaven."
"Perfection through suffering— there is love in that law,"

F. W. Robertson.

" There are no accldenta since God is God."

S. R. G. 0.

It took all the loving tact of which Herbert was
master to bring Olive back to life after that
parting.

There was a tacit understanding of the situation
with the entire family, and all felt it best to leave
her to Herbert's love and comforting. Indeed
Stanton had commended her especially to him.
His words took peculiar hold of his f'-iond's
memory ; he could not shake then off.

" Perhaps God wants you at home, Herv," he had
said at almost the last moment, his honest brown
eyes looking straight into the blue ones that con-
fronted him. " I hardly know why, but I have
thought He might. Don't be hasty ; be sure to find
His will, and h^ sure He never makes mistakes.
Take special care of Olive for my sake as well as hei*

'^SIlB'iMBt&MW'^'^''"*™'*'*'^"^'**'^

\bir^-^

fmffmmm

"wrrr

174

IlEUBEllT GALDEl'ELL, JR.

own ; and here's for the hastening of His coming
and kingdom wherever we ma}' work," extending
his hand for the liearty grip awaiting it.

" Perhaps God wants you at home." What
could his friend mean? Could he think for a
moment the taking of a wife wonhl interfere with
liis highest duty? Wtvs it not one of the bitterest
experiences of Vi'''?. to both that they were not going
forth together? lie must follow speedily. In
the meanwhile he must find aggressive work to
do, missionary work, that he might not be out-
stripped in the race.

He shared his thoughts and plans with his
Bister, finding that nothing else so interested her
'M something in touch with the great world into
v'hich her loved one had disappeared. He was a
little surprised at her changed attitude toward his
affianced. She asked about Rea, was eager to hear
what every letter contained, wrote to her herself,
and finally planned a visit from her to come about
at the holidays, when Harry and Eddie would be
home to meet her.

They spent much time together searching out
the literature of Missions. Herbert was desirous
of reading up on some of these lines, and Olive
seemed never weary of assisting him, eagerly seizing
every item tliat referred in the remotest manner to
Africa, its climate, inhabitants, geography. They
drew maps and arranged facts, and each morning,
upon her knees, she took the " prescriptions "
Stanton had left her, until at last their healing

i irifwa^.'v W»Jiwt' kJ'.^l-T^ •TT'tf*""^ V^""* '^■■'1^'^r^.ri S i '. t tt w . rt Sirirr^* v

'tr^*

ippiF*!

LL, JR.

ig of His coming
work," extending
ting it.

t home." What
I ho think for a
Ud interfere with
le of the bitterest
ey were not going
ow speedily. In
fgressive work to
light not be out-

1 plans with his
so interested her
t great world into
jared. He was a
ttitude toward his
was eager to hear
ote to her herself,
her to come about
I Eddie would be

her searching out
ibert w.os desirous
i lines, and Olive
im, eagerly seizing
jmotest manner to
geography. They
md each morning,
) " prescriptions "
last their healing

AN ACVIDENT.

175

reached her heart and the symptoms of a robuster
life began to ajjpear.

How time drags when we wait for its going I
How wearily tliey watched for the fu-st line from
the traveller announcing his arrival in Liverpool.
They counted the days and weeks until a letter
from the coast informed them that liis feet were
on African soil. Then, after months, came the
word th.it he had reached his destination and wivs
beginning his acquaintance with the natives and
the language.

These letters were all addressed to llerbei-t.
The wistfulness witli which Olive lead them smote
her brother's heart, as also the questioning in her
eyes when he opened each fresh epistle as if it
must hold something for her. They did bring her
kind words of remembrance, but she wanted some-
thing more, a letter of her own.

"Hadn't you better write Stanton a ^^ 'nes
and enclose it in my letter, Princess ? " said her
brother one day. " He must be wondering why
you do not write. I think he told me you promised
to correspond with him."

" Ought not he to write first?"

" Certainly not. And even so, imagine any of us
standinf on etiquette with Stanton ! You did not
extract a promise from him, but he from you. He
is waiting, he will only take such liberties as are
accorded him, but a few words from 3'ou will
greatly cheer him, I know. Suppose you tell him
tlie truth, dear."

" . ^V^■SiSi^i4fc^4;7"^i .'•^■''i'--'' "'*'>^*^i'**S'!*">^tw •■''

^-=:*.i-,^s-^..-iiiji!y.*Bt3*ii'^imvjiH*iitiaSi'ii^9'ii'.-i^

MllU.lf l lll i p>M^II^||| i |

<! ,^i>iyff

170

lIKUliElil GMWKNKLL, JR.

" I don't believe I can, Herl)ert. I've tried," she
whiH[)eied.

" Well, suppose I write it for you ? "

" Oh, Herbert, not foi- the world I No one ought
to tell him but nie. Don't hiiit it, please."

She wrote liini a stiff little note quite unlike
those sent Iiiui in college days. The young
missionar- smiled as he read the very proper lK!gin-
ning and ending of this epistle. IIo could not
know, though he more thiin half guessed, wliat she
told Lee, that the more she felt the less she could
express, that her love seemed to choke the utter-
anc(i of even pleasant, common things.

The q.ieer little letter had a postscript, however —
Olive was fond of po8tscrij)ts — which went far
towards redeeming it.

" I've written this over and over but it won't
sound light and you won't like it. I'd burn it
up if there was any hope of my doing better, but
there isn't. But, O Stanton, I miss you and think
of yoti every day, and am trying truly to do what
you asked and to be wiiat you would like best. .
Won't vou please write to me ?

" Ollie."

He did \rrite, kind, brotherly letters that
were as dear to her as life, and which she wore as
close to her heart as he did her pictured face.
If he had only known, if he could have believed
her expressions of friendship were something other
than regret over the sorrow and disappointment she
had caused him ; or the natural regard for an old

Wif»»^P*W(ir^'. .Wa«;'.^r-^J»l!!TVW>»*'T^-!Ht*JrtW*^'.-'il^^ iBaf»fiefiSta?.'-iwWvVB**«^3*to«j^^

'■:-f

'Lf HHf lj i

wm*

,JR.

I've tried," she

u?"

I No one ought

please,"

to quite unlike
\. The young
ry {iiopcr lx!gin-

IIo could not
lessed, what she
e leiis she could
jlioke the utter-
rigs.

jript, however —
vliich went far

rer but it won't
it. I'd burn it
oing better, but
8 you and think
trull/ to do what
vould like best. .

" Ollie."

ly letters that
bich she wore as
r pictured face.
d have believed
something other
appointment she
egard for an old

tmm

AN ACCIDENT.

■iwmwi

177

acquaintance separated by distance, and therefore
romantically exalted in her opinion he might have
set her heart at rest.

Lee, who knew more of the case than any one
else, had suggested, as Herbert did, that she write
Stanton the facts. " He Ixjing what he is and
loving you as he does, no harm could come from
that."

But Olive shi-ank from the thought. " It is im-
possible. I have tried, the very look of the bald un-
varnished truth frightened me. I burned the sheet.
If he were here I might say it some time, anything
so near the hoa. *• might slip over the lips utiaware.
But to write it co.-nl I cannot. It isn't down
when I write it. I have lost my faculty."

Fredrica Avas really coming to visit the Gaiden-
eJls. It had been impossible at Christmas time,
but was possible now. They were to go to Bloom-
ingle immediately after her arrival, for she was to
enjoy what her mother assured her was an " un-
tenable treat," a summer at the dear old resort.
Olive wrote Lee in a little flutter of vanity.

" I have brought it about myself and you must
come and see her, thougli I shall never love her as
I do you if she is twice my sister." The arrange-
ments once made, Olive counted the days before
lier appearance.

" To-morrow," she said to Herbert, *' to-morrow.
Think of it, only one more t ly to wait. Are you
not glad?"

"Indeed I am,'" answered her brother, "gUiddest

»-3tte4'tti^j»n9fr^^i^^»r

(^^.■^WSS^ '^***^i^*»*fi**'^^

178

UERUERT GMlbENELL, JR.

of ull bocauso my little Histor is so ready to pieet
her. I cannot tell you how much I love and tlmnk
you," regarding her fondly, "for taking liea into
your heart for my sake."

" But it ian't for your Hako,"she replied flushing,
"and I am not to bo praised at all. I promised
Stanton to love hi^r for hig sake, and * ilo."

" The Lord bless him ! " said lli-rbert fervently,
08 he stooped to kiss his sister'a hot cheek, "ho en-
riches all he touches." Before he slept tiiat night
he despatched a letter, a few lines of which read
thus :

" I shall see Ilea to-morrow and bless you in Africa
for the privilege. Olive has so opened her heart
it has prepared the way for the visit, and she has
told me the secret of her interest. I)t u-, luisellish
friend, I wish I were like you. With neither time
or seKishness to push your own suit you yet found
opportunity to help mine. Let me assure you God
is caring for yours."

To-morrow ! It never c ^mes. But that Wed-
nesday morning dawned as brightl}'^ as if it did.
Herbert Gardeuell, Jr., with happy face and light
heart, kissed his mother and sister and took the
train for an adjoining town where he was to meet
his beloved.

Horace Germaine and Mr. Gardenell were riding
through the streets of the city that morning en-
gaged in earnest conversation, when the glaring
liead-lines on a bulletin-board before a newsjjaper

-w>»K»<-ai.-««(r*:':vj5-wie«*4at'e.r?»*-«««(rti izns xmtMb wit... »--^gt-T=tt;

•^rnvtii^KXtia^mK^'n-i '■v^vafltestwiwiie

-T-

,jn.

> ready to ^veet

lovo and tliaiik

bilking lieu into

iT4)lic'd flusliinpi',
ill. I proniised
id X ilo."
rbert forvontly,
/ cheek, "lie eii-
slept that night
I of which read

388 you ill Africa
jteiied lier heart
sit, and aha lias
I)( ir, unselfish
ith neither time
it you yet found
asisure you God

But that Wed-
itl}'^ as if it did.
y face and light
iv and took the

he was to meet

snell were riding
at morning en-
len the glaring
)re a newspaper

AN ACVIDENT.

179

office attracted the doctor's attention. ITc 8toj)pod
lii-i home to read.

" An accident," he said, " and on the road."

Mr. Gardeneirs face grew white. " What train
is it, Horace?" he gasped, everything turning dark
Ixifore his eyes.

" The Western train, duo in H at ten-thirty.

It is tlie one we expected Fredrica on, but there is
no cause for alarm," he went on, "the accident
is a sliglit one."

" I must go to Herbert at once," said the father.

" Step into the office fn-st and I will give you
something, then I will go with you," answered the
doctor, drawing rein at his own door.

"A slight accident," so read the bulletin. "A
slight accident " reported all the papera. " One
car damaged, a few persons injured, only one
killed."

And that one lay with her pretty red-brown hair
falling over and hiding the cruel gash on her brow,
her eyes half-closed, the smile that happy thoughts
of a near meeting had brought to lier lips, frozen
upon them. Thus Herbert Gardenell found his
affianced.

His face was liardly less white than hera when
he met his father and Dr. Germaine a while after.
They had he.ard the truth, knew it all, he read this
on their countenances as they approached. lie
was relieved to know he need not tell them.

" I have telegraphed to Aunt Jessie, father, I shall
take her back on the next train," he said.

b.-

<:.»»i»iiiattyia«*:aai*»iK-A*aM«*'"'W*.

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Photographic

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WEBSTER, NY. 14580

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^■^^^ ^

180

UEltBERT GARDEN ELL, JL.

" The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away,"
said the elder clergyman brokenly, as he laid a
loving hand on his son's shoulder. It was the son
himself who finished the quotation, through white
but unfaltering lips. " Blessed be the name of the
Lord."

»i%gfb'-JMM:^JJ< »i» t 5fa g j i* * gJ L?.^

.L, Jh.

has taken away,"
Illy, as he hvid a
'. It was the son
n, through white
16 the name of tlie

MUM

A NEW FEAR.

181

CHAPTER XVII.

A NEW FEAU.

" But God is God, my faithful,
Of night as well as day ;
And we feel and know that we can go
Wherever He leads the way."

— RUMBBANDT PeALE.

It was Olive who wrote the sad news to Stanton
with a cry of despair for herself.

" The Lord does not accept my tardy repent-
ance. I have really learned to love Rea since I
promised you I would, and now I shall never see
lier— and Herbert. Oh, Stanton, what can I do to
atone for the past ? What will Herbert do with
his broken heart ? "

" Take everything to Jesus," Stanton wrote
back, but it was so many months before she could
get his answer.

When it did come Herbert was home again from
that sad joui-ney to the place of his former joy,
from Aunt Jessie's clinging hands and Uncle
George's haggard face. Back to make ready for
another departure. For he had no doubt this was
God's call to sternest action. God did not intend

'!<

HiMttfi 9»ietMiJiKteeas^snsti»siKn

BiMwai»Ej*w^ik't'>.i^gijBfa.j»ii«»ffw^>iuaa<i<»i«Witf^^

iMiietoiiMi6J4^«stM«ii

182

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

he should dally over any cup of earthly bliss. He
needed him; the world needed him. This wus
Avhy He denied him the joy of other men, ^hat he
might understand his calling to liardest labor and
dreariest places where tender women and little
children must not go.

There was no murmuring, no questioning. Be-
fore his Christ he laid his bleeding heart and with
his all again upon the altar— for sacrifice or service
—pleaded simply to know what next. No bride
forhim now but Africa, dark, lost, beautiful Africa!
Ever since he had folded those white, white palms
over each other in that little railroad town, and
placed the cherished form in its narrow bed, he had
seen tliose other dusky, outstretched hands beckon-
ing him on.

His heart yearned to follow them, he giew impa-
tient of delay. And then the postman left a little
bit of Africa at his door. He tore it open eagerly ;
he read the burning woi-ds of symimthy and love ;
the tender, helpful, soulful words of one who could
comfort because he had himself been comforted.

"They needed her in heaven. Nothing short
of need would let the Father's heartso grieve youis
Your choice was heaven's choice first, the wonder-
ful ripening you saw go on in her was i)re|)ara-
tion, not for Africa but Glory. Oh I the joy it must
be to yon in your sorrow to have been entrusted
witli tlie prepaiation of such a soul for such a mis-
sion. This IS wliy you met her, tliat you niiglit
help get her ready for the King; this is why you

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earthly bliss. He
J him. This wus
ther men, ^hat he
liardest labor and
vomeii and little

questioning. Be-
iig heart and with
sacrifice or service
i next. No bride
beautiful Africa!
hite, wliite palms
ilroad town, and
irrow bed, he had
led hands beckon-

ni,he grew inipa-
itman left a little
> it open eagerly ;
ipatliy and love ;
of one who could
Jen comforted.

Nothing short
t so grieve youis.
irst, the wondei--
her was prepara-
1 I the joy it must
I been entrusted
1 for such a niis-
tliat you might
this is why you

A .VJPir FEAlt.

188

loved her, because she so resembled Him whose
you are and whom you serve,"

All that one mortal could pen to cheer and com-
fort another that .better seemed to hold. Near the
close were these words.

" I am praying much for you. The time of
sorrow may be also the time of extreme i)eril.
lie very quiet and restful ; do not hasten to do any-
tliing but pray. You will want to run away fiom
your sorrow ; God may want you to give it loom
and let it blossom in your heart. Be not jjiecipi-
tate, be sure you find His Avill, finding it I know
you will do it. He has so: ,e purpose for i/ou in
all this. ^ It is so difficult for us sometimes to real-
ize God's thought for us, it so outreaches our
thought for ourselves. You will want me now, and
oh, how I should rejoice to chisp you I May not
His will for you, for me, as far out-strip our con-
ception of it as He has proven His will was for Rea ?
After all the only thing you and I need be careful
for is to let His will be done. Herv, dear old fel-
low, keep tenderest guard over father. I jud^re
from his late letters it would be very easy for him
to slip into glory some day unawares and leave us
orphaned."

" Keep guard over father! " Somehow the sen-
tence startled the reader. "Keep guard over
father 1 " He looked at the loved form out of new
eyes as they sat at the late dinner-table. Was he
mistaken or did the dear face look white and wan?
Had he been so selfishly wrapped up in his own
sorrow as to forget those about him? Was he

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"W.

WWW>v'

184

HERBERT GAUDENELL, JR.

planning work ahead and letting this most sacred
work at his hand, of caring for his own, go neg-
lected ? He followed hia father to the stud)'.

" Are you feeling quite well, father? " he asked
perching himself on the arm of tlie great chair where
he had so often sat. It hrought his eyes above liis
father's head, and noting the silver threads so
thickly sprinkled there his heart smote him.

" I think I am as well as usual." The gentle,
patient words falling like a rebuke on the young
man's heart. " Did you come to talk over your
future with me, my son ?"

" I think I will not trouble 3'ou with myself to-
night, fatlier, you seem wear}-."'

" Never too weary to listen to yo;', Herbert ; you
never trouble me, my bay." Oh, how true I Tears
sprang to the son's eyes. The peculiarly tender
solicitude of his father's manner towards him in
his sorrow had touched him deeply before. Now
he stooped and pressed his lips on the graying hair.

" Tiie best father God ever gave to any man,"
he said. " I am not sure I have any plins. ' I am
not capable of making them. I think I will take
Stanton's advice and keep quiet, trusting a Higher
to plan for and divulge His plans to me."

" A wise decision for a finite being to make. I —
I feared" the word falling almost apologetically
from his lips, " that you might have set your heart
on Africa."

" It has been there for years, father. If God will
send me there it will be truest joy. It is only to

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mr.

fmw

ILL, JR.

g this most sacred
hia own, go neg-
■ to the stud^.
father ? " he asked
le great chair where
- his eyes above liis
silver threads so
D smote him.
ual." The gentle,
uke on the young
to talk over your

3U with myself to-

yo;', Herbert; you
, how true I Tears

peculiarly tender
r towards him in
eply before. Now
u tlie graying hair,
jave to any man,"

any plans. ' I am
' think I will take
, trusting a Higher
IS to me."
eing to make. I —
lost apologetically
lave set your heart

ither. If God will
joy. It is only to

A NEW FEAB.

185

tliy that the suggestion has come that possibly God
may will some other thing for me. It has set me
:it sea ; I have lost all my bearings. I can only
pray and wait to see whereto this leads."

Tliere was no answer. There was something,
liowever. A gasp as if for breath, the upward
heaving of a chest and head, as if for life, and
Herbert was on his feet, beside his father.

He did not ring the bell ; he remembered his
mother. He carried the dear form to the couch and
chafed the chilled hands. He brought water and
Kinelling-salts, applying one to his head, the other
to hia nostrils. He felt for his heart ; it was flutter-
ing feebly ; suddenly it leaped beneath his hand and
the eyes opened.

The sick man pohited to the shelf and whisper-
ed, " Behind the picture — I am better," trying to
sinile. It was a bottle. Herbert counted the drops
numbered on the label, mixed them with water and
administered them. Then he sat down to watch
beside the patient until the ashen hue gave place
to one less like death, and his father tried to rise.

" Lie still," said hia son peremptorily, " you
must not try to exert youraelf."

The gentleman smiled. " I am better and exer-
tion up to a certain point cannot harm me. This is
nothing new or strange however alarming, Her-
bert."

" And 3'ou have kept it to yourself, knowing you
iright die in one of these attacks ? " reproachfully.

" There has seemed no proper time to divulge

Mtmtiimsifimisiemsss^mimtwim'

ft trintViemrf^^.iiiM'im^ >■«

IIEUBKHT OAllDENELL, JR.

fil

the secret. I was not aware of tlie seriousness of
my condition, thougli suspecting it for some time,
until just as your mof' n- became so feeblo. Since
then so many things have happened, I have not
had grace to add this to the rest."

" So long ago," groaned his son in dismay.
" Something might have been done if attempted
sooner."

His father put out his hand and drew his son
closer to him. " All has been done that could be
done," he said. " I have consulted many com-
petent iihysieians. They all tell me what Horace
told me in the beginning — no hope."

To say the listener was smitten, is speaking
feebly. He felt his life going out in anguish.

" So bad as that," he moaned.

"So bad as that or so good as that, whichever
way we choose to meet God's will," answered the
father. " My son, I would not lift my finger, if by
so doing I could purchase liealth contrary to His
will."

"Does Stanton know this?"

" He knows my peril and its extremity ; he had
to know. Horace would not let me share my
heart's blood with your mother. Stanton knew the
reason."

A groan was the only answer ; forgive the young
man if at that moment he felt earth very dark.

"You were ill at the time, you will remember,
my son. Ray was away, the boys too young to be
weighted prematurely, Olive already sorely bur-

'!*iC3«««Baiwsapa».a»a«iSS!S!«-i'»i«ss!i;ji«^^

mfm

■iW

.VNMPIR

fELL, JR.

if tlio seriousness of
iiig it for some time,
ine so feeblo. Siiico
iippened, I liavo not

St."

his son in dismay.
11 done if attempted

d and drew his son
done that could be
msulted many Corn-
ell me what Horace
iiopo."

mitten, is speaking
out in anguish.
i.

lI as that, whichever
will," answered the
i lift my finger, if by
vlth contrary to His

I extremity ; he had

t let nie share my

Stanton knew the

; forgive the young
earth very dark,
'ou will remember,
oys too young to be
already sorely bur-

A NEW FEAIt.

187

dened foryoui-self and mamma. You will see how
peculiarly I was situated, Herbert. I pledged
Stanton to secrecy."

Herbert dropped on liis knees l)eforo the couch,
and drew his father's head to liis breast. " And I
have been so selfishly swallowed up in my own joys
and sorrow.- that I have had no eyes for your need ;
may God forgive me. And now, father, if you love
me, let all the weight of your life rest on me.
Let me lift it and you while I may."

" Thank you, my precious son, now, as always,
my pride and comfort. There is, there never will
be, any reason for you to berate youi-self. I have
not suffered much. I have been able to liide it
fiom your mother. U her gentle heart has not
taken alarm, wliy should yours ?

" Sometimes I feel the a])proach of these attacks
in time to take my medicine and thus neutralize or
minimize the effect. When they have overtaken
me suddenly God has graciously provided for me.
I have never had a severe attack outside of these
walls. I have dreaded this revelation for you all,
especially for you, Herbert, since it would seem to
interfere with the dearest object of your life, the
preaching of tlie Gospel in other lands."

" Father, I will stay at home, I will do anything
you vish."

" No, my son. You. are not your own or mine,
but God's. You will do as He wishes. You have
said to-night that the thought has suggested itself
to you that possibly He might mean sometliing for

imim»ismmi!m.«s^f«!mmtk

188

HKRIiERT OABDENELL, JR.

your life Iwside Africa. I think He may. We can
ask Him. H the End — or the Hegiiininu — is an
near as I sometimes think, with Harry nnd Eddie
yet unprepared for life, and mamma and Olive as
they are, it may be — mark, I only say may be,
Herbert — that God does will, for awhile at least,
that you tarry. It would bo a joy to me, Herbert,
I .idmit, if I could know tiio home would remain
as it is, for the present, that your mother might
not miss too much at once, if this " other self " l
mine as she loves to call you, could hold and cher-
ish her until a little stronger grown and able
to st^nd alone. Nay, do not answer me," laying
a hand on his son's lips. " Wait until God teaches
you what He would have you say. To mamma as
to me His will is first and always best."

" Dear mamma," Herbert whispered, overcome
by thought of her coming sorrow. " She ought to
know, father, to be prepared."

" I will tell her myself," his father answered.
" The time has come since it has been revealed to
you."

4'^«tS»#CHs«J5W!Raa,'!iS«'<i»5BrW«K^^

wifmmm

'w mji

'E/.fy, JR.

k He may. We can
10 negiiininp— is iw
,Ii Ilivrry nnd Eddie
liimma and Olive as
[ only say may be,
for awhile at least,
joy to me, Herbert,
liouie would remain
your mother might
his " other self " t
lould hold and cher-
3r grown and able
answer me," laying
lit until God teaches
say. To mamma as
lys best."

vhispered, overcome
)w. " She ought to

is father answered,
las been revealed to

TUE BORDER LAND.

189

CHAPTER XVHI.

THEBOUDEULAND.

" No human Angers wrought the golden gates which opened,
sudden, still and wide.
My fear was hushed by my delight.

Surpassing fair the lands ; my path lay plain."

— IIki.en Hunt.

" The soul will put her quiet house to rights
And In the upper chamber watcli the dawn."

— .rAMES BUCKIIAM.

Mrs. Gaedenell was sitting alone in the dusk of
her room ; a habit of here. She loved the twilight,
the hour she used to give to the children ; it laid
become her daily communion hour. Not so much
a time for what we call prayer as for holding her
heart up close to God's, resting herself in His love.
Her husband loved to spend that hour beside lier,
lie always knew just where and how he would Hnd
her at the close of every day. He opened the door
now.

" Yensie.'

"Yes, love."

■ Mjvy I come in ? "
•Surely."

" I trust I shall not bring in one disturbing

ttu^auxrai

ippm

iikuhkut OAnnKSKU., .in.

thotifrlit," lie Haiil m hIir roso, and drawing him to
liui' low clitiir, Hivt at Iiis f(!ct, hur liuud nii his kiioe.

" You iicvt'i' <h)," Hh(' aiiswcrcil, as lio Htrokctl
poiitly with his hand thts sol't hair from hcM* hrow.

Tlioy \/ero quiot for a fnw minutes and then ho
Kaid, " I havo a now rtializatiou of huavcn, dear.
It HctMus vmy nearof hvtc — honiclikc, — almost as if
1 had \n'\i\\ heyond the pates aja» uiiu knew some-
thing of its atniosi)heie."

She did not Bfieak, she only drow his hand to
lier li[)S reverently.

" Yensie, you and I have found the will of Tod
tlie sweetest thing of life ? "

"The sweetest thing of life," she assented.

"Even when, sometimes, for a little while, we
hardly aj)prehended it as sueh and it seemed
adverse and strange ? "

Again she assented.

" Sometimes," he went on, " God gives us long-
ings for things l>ecau80 Ho is longing to give them
to us. Begets in us desires that lie may satisfy
them."

She did not reply. All her being had suddenly
taken eais to cateh the next word he might drop.

" I think, peihaps, oh yes, I knmv that is why He
is r.iaking me so familiar with heaven. That know-
ing it I may not miss earth, not grieve to leave it."

He felt her start under his hand and soothed her
with a toueh.

" Yensie, my heart's darling, truest wife, you
have always met my spirit's liighest aspirations

■W't..«Mefe«»j^asi(S«AeaB'rw«i*w«»5»rBKi*a>Bas^^

PIPiil

■ WpjliUJU iii iU!

"f^

fKLh, J II.

and (Imwiiip him to
ur litnid nil liis kiico.
rcrcd, as lio strokcil
liiiir from lior hniw.
ninutcs iiiid then liu
oil of lioiiviMi, dear.
iH'likc, — almost as if
ija. Kiiii kiiuw Hotno-

y drew Iiim hand to

iiid tlio will of Tod

" sho assented.

»r a little wliile, wo

ich and it soemed

" God gives us long-
iiiging to give them
hat lie may satisfy

being had suddenly
k'ovd he might drop.
knoiv that is why lie
eaven. Thatknow-
t grieve to leave it."
and and soothed licr

g, truest wife, you
liighest aspirations

TIIK UOHDEU LAM).

J 01

hrforo I voiced them ; held mo to uoi from Ood's
iK-'st; helped not hindered mo in roa(!hingtlie fullest
expression of His will. You will not falter now
if Ho is rijady for mo first? I think He needs me."

She did not start now, nor speak, nor weep, nor
sigh. Sho held hei-self still lost she should fail
him in this supremo hour of Ids life.

"I have btion wanting to tell you this, yet not
knowing how. If you couliJ .,eo iv\ I see, love,
you would lojoico. I am gla . now that you know,
hocauso Ho can ^-eveal Himself to you in a now
way, teach you what Ho could not before, while
you did not know this hit of His will. Darling, I
have been living for a}(!ar on the v(!ig(! of eternity.
I have gone to bed every night and gone forth
every morning not certain but the next hour would
usher mo into the glory of His seen presence."

" HerI)ort, why did you not 1 't me die when I
was so near the other shore?" The low voice
trembled a little.

" Can you ask ? While tliere was any ministry
for you hero wonhl you care or dare to miss it?
Would not yon, would not I, consider it wrong to
die while it was possible to live? The imjjossi-
bility makes clear His next will and our next duty,
:itiy, our next pleasure. Love, everything is priv-
ilege which God wills for us and Christ shares
with us. I have covoted for you this privilege, —
to walk with me through the valley. The mount-
ain heights are so fair and lofty ; the light stream-
ing between their rugged peaks so pure and radi-

SiSSWi'

mmmmmmm

192

IlERIiERT GAHDENELL, Jll.

H! '

ant : the quiet so intense ; not a ripple of p.-ission
or desire ; the fellowship so real, like AdaniV when
he walked with God in the dusk at the close of
day.

" In the dusk, Yensie, that the glory might ho
veiled which seen in its fulness must slay the
beholder. Love, I think I comprehend how Moses
died. It was of answered prayer. He had cried
to behold God's glory. All prayer is answered
some day. As soon as Jehovah could fit another
for his nlace ; could find excuse to take him, lie
led Moses to the mountain's top and uncovered His
face. Yensie, Moses died of rapture — the rapture
of a soul that at last sees God.

" I know something of it, I have glimpses of His
loveliness ; full vision is at hand. You have sliared
my best with me the years that are past, darling,
I want to share with you all I can of this."

" I am ready, Herbert," she said, and her voice
was calm as her little palm crept into his. "Hold
my hand as long as you can, I will not shrink. I
would like to walk with you all the way if I
could."

" If God willed," he corrected. " You love His
will best, Yensie."

" I love His will best, Herbert," she made reply.
" Even better than I love you."

'• Can you sing for me, love, or are you weary ?
There has been one hymn in my mind all day :
' My Jesus, as Thou wilt ! ' "

She rose quietly and went to the organ. Into

:^-in»(.X'V».;.'Si3».qs:E:;-f?rs:;S5^(ja{t^

ELL, JR.

a ripple of passion
1, like AdaniV when
usk at the uloso of

the glory might Lo
ess must slay tho
prehend how Moses
lyer. He had cried
prayer is answered
ih could fit another
36 to take him, IIo
and uncovered His
ipture — the rapture

ave glimpses of His
1. Yon have shared
t are past, darling,
can of this."

said, and her voice
pt into his. " Hold

will not shrink. I
11 all the way if I

id. " You love His

THE BORDER LAND,

103

the room below, wliere Herbert sat praying, came
the sweet, clear tones, tremulous at firat, but gain-
ing power as they rose, and presently he heard his
father's voice chime with them.

He held his mother close to his bosom that night
when she came to him before retiring. He read
in the depths of her dark eyes, and the pallor of
her face the intensity of the agony under which she
staggered.

" Mother," he said, "mother," the tenderness of
his utterance bringing tears to her eyes.

" The cup which my Father hath given me, sl;all
I not drink it?" she whispered. "Though He
slay me yet will I trust in Him."

" He will not slay, mother. His rod and staff
comfort. It is only the shadow of death in tlie
valley, you need fear no evil."

" Sorrow is not necessarily evil, Herliert," she
murmured. " It is often disguised good."

" It can only be highest good for father," faltered
the son.

" Then it must be for me," she answered. " Nay,
it shall be. I claim it in His name."
13

rt," she made reply.

or are you weary ?
. my mind all day :

the organ. Into

m.ymjuuiLm '.'■"■wpmp"

iiiaiiPilMPilii

104

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

CHAPTER XIX.

NOT AFRICA BUT JESUS.

" May not part of the preparation for M'ork be the mental
discipline of imagined postponements ? "

— Gkoijge MacDonald.

" The battle is too close around us for us to understand how
the day is going — we are not higli enougli to see ? "

— Mns. CUAKLEB.

How calmly, quietly beautiful were the days
that followed 1

Herbert studied constantly liow to lift all care
from bis father's shoulders, his wife followed him
like his shadow. They were truly inseparable.
A mightj' yearning to walk with her husband to
the very verge of eternity, to share with him ever}'
drop of his cup she might had seized Yensie Gar-
denell's soul, and she was ever beside him, her
hand in his, her eyes on his face, her ears open to
his slightest word.

Olive found it almost imi)ossible to have one of
jier private chats with her father and hailed with
delight the arrival of callers one night that detained
her mother in the parlor and gave her the oppor-
tunity she coveted for an hour's talk in the study.

Herbert had tried to prepare Olive quietly for

''^ m4'mtt»!fimm^:^mfSimS!msst^mimimgmum^m^i«i^imm^mi.^^

KOT AFIIJVA BUT JESUS.

195

JESUS.

ir work be (he mental

loitGE MacDonald.

us to understand how
gh to see ? "

— Mils. CUAIU.EB.

ful were the days

o\v to lift all care

wife followed him

truly inseparable.

ith lier liusband to

lare with him ever}'

seized Yeiisie Gar-

er beside him, her

;e, her ears open to

iible to have one of
ler and hailed with
night that detained
[ave lier the oppor-
s talk in the study.
e Olive quietly for

the coming sorrow, but she would not listen.
Papa looked a little pale to be sure, but no worse
than ho liad for months. Herbert should have
seen him when mamma was sick. He w(?uld soon
be better, he must be, then she buret into a tumult
of teai-s.

Tiien Herbert turned comforter, charging her,
however, to be careful not to show such emotion
Ixjfore her father lest she hasten what she so de-
plored. Then she upbiaided him with tiying to
rob her of her last comfort, tlie little joy yet
remaining to her life. " God would not be so cruel
as to take papa, especially when he was so good
and so much needed." Alas, her argument only
convinced her brother to the contrary. He had
learned that goodness but proclaimed fitness for
promotion.

He reported his unsuccess to his father. " God '
will teach her in His own way and time," said Mr.
Gardenell gently. " We cannot force lessons on
liearts unready ; we only wound them without
cause or result. Our patient Father leads us each
as we are able to go. We all learn verj' much
the same lessons in the eud, but by very different
processes and degrees."

Olive had watched her father very closely
since that conversation, however. She had been
exercising great self-control also. The dear parent,
so near the invisible, underatood this and opened
his arms gladly that quiet eve, for one more con-
versation with his only daughter.

msh:

wmmmfm

;«^

190

IlEUBEIiT GAliDEi\ELL, JR.

It was so different from liia talk with his wife
and son. Now lie was listener not converser, and
she was very free with liim. Her whole heart she
poured into his ears. Had she been withholding
anything from him ? She would withhold it
no longer. The story of her love for Stanton,
known to bo sure, but never before acknowledged
to any one but Lee and HerlHUt — guarded and cov-
ered rather — was avowed now. Not shamefacedly
or guiltily, but bravely and truly, and all her fears
and uneasiness, her consciousness of fault and
failure came with it.

As she prayed daily so she talked that night, in
all humility and reverence. Pei'haps the nearness
of her parent to his Maker had so charged him with
divinity that it was easy to make utmost disclosure
of self. She felt better any way after it wiis done.
He held her close in a vital sympathy that com-
municated it«olf unspoken to hei- dee[)est self.

"You have not confessed this to Stanton yet?"

"No, not yet, papa, I cannot."

"You will some day, darling, but do not hurry or
worry youi'self. God is working out in you His
purpose for your life. He will see that it does not
fail of perfection or fruitage. All we really need,
dear, in this world is patient trust."

" And you are not discouraged with me, papa ?
You do not think He will let me spoil His pur-
pose in me ? "

" Never, dear, never while you will to meet His
will."

'-'!ms»«^.i0^m^!^s

-;*-,-^. 4;i*&*i*S«^'

ELL, JR.

3 talk with his wife
1- not couverser, aiul
Her whole heart she
le been withholding
would withhold it
r h)ve for Stanton,
)uforo acknowledged
t — guarded and cov-
Not shamefacedly
ily, and all her fears
sness of fault and

talked that night, in
*ei'haps the nearness
so charged him with
je utmost disclosure
ivy after it wiis done.
sym])athy that com-
101' deei)est self,
is to Stanton yet? "

f, but do not hurry or
ing out in you His
Isee that it does not
All we really need,
rust."

ged with me, papa ?
t nie spoil His pur-

^ou will to meet His

NOT AFIIIVA BUT JESUS.

197

" I do," she whispered. " Down in the deepest
depths of my heart at last I find I do. All of nie
inserts, demands, His wi)' fulfilled in me, though
Home of me, sometimes, shrinks from the way Ho
does it."

" Little human blossom ! "' lie kissed her fondly.
" liomember what is writteri. ' It is God that,
worketh in you to u'ill and to do of His good pleas-
ure.' Since He already willn in you, can you not
trust Him to perfect His beginning and do in you
also of His good pleasure? Olive, my darling
child, accept not only all that cc raes, as the concrete
of His will, but take each little happening, however
small or trying, each new providence, as a fresh
expression of that will, as working out His good
pleasure."

" I will try, papa," she said. Then her mother
came in, and presently Herbert and they sat quite
a while longer together.

Herl)ert filled an appointment for his fatlier,
speaking on missions in another city one night
that week. But Mr. Gardenell himself prepared
and preached as usual to his own people on Sunday.

Lee WHS there and heard that sermon. As she
pixssed along the walk after service, the gentleman
stopped her for a kind greeting. Herbert, waiting
with the carriage, saw only lier back as she went
down the street.

" That is Lee Erdle}-," his father said, as he
took his seat. " You have never met her, I think,
she is a marvellous woman. She has been thanking

:.. iL'^^;i;iiiar:-W.*;*;/a;.

198

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

me for my sermon ; liow blessed is an appreciative
hearer! I could hardly tell her if I tried, how
much a little sermon she preached in ir y study
once did for mo. It is short, perhaps you can learn it
by heart, Herbert, it is worth remembering. Here
it is. ' You know wo are to choose not ease but
His will : ' How many different things since then
I have put after that ' not ' even life, my son — but
by His grace I have always been enabled to add,
'but His Willi'"

Herl)ert did not speak ; he took the lesson to his
heart nevertheless. Ho was finding it no easy
thing to yield the great ambition of his life, tlio
cherished hope of his young manhood, the miglity
impulse wliich lie liad ever regarded as the liigli-
est call of God — to preach the gospel of the King-
dom in tlie lands afar.

Many houra had he spent on his knees since the
night he discovered his father's illness. If God had
called him to the foreign field had He now abrogated
that call ? Had He trifled with His child ? " Led
him to intensest longing for a good he could not
grasp? And if He intended him to remain in his
native land, by his motlier's side, why had the
choice of his young heart been smitten ? He could
understand a love that might smite him now to sjjaro
liim the gre.vter torture of seeing one so frail and
so loved enduring danger, toil and sacrifice. But
if none of these things were before lier why need
she be taken from his arms ? ■

Why ? Why ? Children are not the only users

ELL, JR.

id is an appreciative
er if I tried, how
iiched in iry study
haps yoit can learn it
smenibering. Here
ihoose not ease but
it tilings since then
n life, my son — but
len enabled to add,

ok the lesson to his
finding it no easy
Hon of his life, tlio
iinhood, the miglity
garded as the high-
gospel of the King-

his knees since tlio
illness. If God had
d He now abrogated
h His child ? " Led

good he could not
im to remain in his
side, why had the
mitten? He could
ite him now to sjjaro
iig one so frail and
and sacrifice. But
jfore her why need

enot the only users

JfOT AFRICA nUT JESUS.

199

of that word ; iho human lieart forevQr echoes it.
There came no answer to liis questioning. Only
one thing became clearer day by day and that was
the present duty. He could see the firat step, the
next he must trust to God, with all the stmnge
cross-leadings, the sorrows and disappointments of
the past year.

On his knees that Sabbath night the "little
sermon " returned to him with his father's com-
ments. Did God ask more than simple acquies-
cence, acceptance of the inevitable? Did He re-
quire positive choice, active preference of His will ?
" You know we are to choose" Yes, lie knew.

" N"t " ho left a blank after the little negative

as he added, " but His will."

He changed the wording to make it peraonal,
positive. " I choose," he said, the ring of deter-
mined purpose in his voice "not " what? Rea?
Nay, she was beyond his choosing — " Africa."

All the tendrils of his bleeding heart wei e cling-
ing to tlie sacrifice as he bound it to the altar.
The pride, the love, the fond interest with which
he had surrounded the Dark Land. The awful re-
alization of her need, her woe ; the high and holy
enthusiasm, the deathless longing to follow his
Master into the hardest places of earth for sacrifice
for service ; these all enhanced the gift Herbeit
Gardenell laid at God's feet that Sabl)ath night
when, with lifted hand and dripping eyes and firm,
unfaltering lips he said, " I choose not Africa but
Thy will." '

200

nERBERT OAHDENELL, JR.

It WHS done. Tlie mightiest act of his life. As
fur transcending the consecration of his life to
Africa as Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac transcended
his banishment of Ishmael from his doors. Yet
both of them were acts of divine reality costing
all their maker possessed. To take a barren, un-
sightly thing to one's breast and love, and clothe,
and l)eautify, s^nd live for it, nnich as this means,
can never be what it is to thrust the thing «o
nourished, so loved, unto another and learn io live
without it.

Herbert crept into bed that night as weak and
as subdued tis a whipped child. But it was the
child to whose heart-breaking had come the sooth-
ing of a mother's kiss. No longer Africa but
Jesus 1

" It is not always open ill

That risks the Promised Rest :
The Better, often, Is the foe
That keeps us from the i}e«(."

■■,44

-."' t "jT^

SLIPPED UNAWARES.

201

; act of his life. As
ition of liis life to
of Isaac transcended
•om his doors. Yet
ivine reality costing

take a barren, un-
nd love, and clothe,
inich a8 this means,
thrust the thing «o
lier and learn io live

b night as weak and
Id. But it was the
had come the sooth-

1 longer Africa but

mill

omised Rest :

B the foe

Dm the Beat"

CHAPTER XX.-

SLIPPED Ui WARES.

" Death knits as well as parts."
V ■ ' — James lUmsELL LowjiUj.

"Sometimes the arrowy sharpness of a sorrow,
Piercing life's common calm,
Smiles hidden rocks of comfort, which to-morrow

O'erflow in healing balm.
'Keatli burdens that we stagger In tlie taking, " * '

We walk erect at length;
And bitter blows, that bowed almost to breaking.
Reveal our secret strength."

— M. L. DicKiNBOir.

Mr. Gardenell had written to Harry, Eddie
and Mr. Campbell yesterday, this morning he ex-
cused himself for a while to write more lettera.

His wife, busy about the house, came co look in
the study occasionally and peep over his shoulder,
kissing his smiling lips. The last time she came
he was directing Stanton's letter.

" Only one more," he said. " I must write Ray-
mond a few lines. I feel the pressure of the duty
on me. I shall soon be at leisure."

"Do not hurry for my sake," was the reply.
**I will bring my sewing and sit where I caQ

'« ^M"^

JIEUnKIiT OAnOENSLL, JU.

#«*

r=.' -

wateh you wliilo you aro at work. 1 am Hciash ; I
cannot Iniar you out, of my sight."

» Swoetheait," ho answered. " My ht-ait's
hfiait, truest wife that ever breathed."

She went out for a few n-inutes— oh, so few
they seemed 1 She was dehiyed a little by hunt-
ing up the silk which Olive 1-ad l)eeu using and
had left in her chamlHjr. Tl en she appeared onco
more, a dress-skirt in her h:;nd.

lie was still at the desk, but liis head was Iwwed
forward as if in thought or weariness. Quickly,
lightly, she came to his side. TIkj pen had dropped
from his fingers, his chin had sunken to his breast,
his unseeing eyes were on the half-written page
■where the ink wius scarcely dry.

She did not call or cry. She touched his hand,
it was cold ; felt for his heart, it wiis still. She
knelt before him and looked up whither ho was
gone, and asked God to enable her to live as ho
had lived, to die as he had died, and to bear as ha
would bear if left in her place. She asked grace
to say from the heart what her lips tremblingly re-
peated, " Thy will be done."

She heard the door open ; it was Herbert. She
rose and went to meet him ; she put her arms up
to his neck and drew his Y\\)» to hers. " The Lord
gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; " she began,
as her husband had that other awful day. And
now, as then, the young man finished the quota-
tions, with his mother clasped to his heart:
" Blessed be the name of the Lord.''

SNKLLyJn.

woik. 1 am Hclftsh ; 1

ight."

vered. " My lifurt'ii

[ireathed."

iKinutes — oh, so few
xytn] 11 little by huiit-
e I'rtd iMjen using and
1 en aho appeared onco
,nd.

jut liis head was l)owed
If weariness. Quickly,

Th<j pen had dropped
wi sunken to his breast,
1 the half-written page
dry.

She touched his hand,
leart, it wiis still. She
ed up whither ho was
lable her to live as ho
died, and to hear as ha
)lace. She asked grace
her lips tremblingly re-

; it was Herbert. Slio
1 ; she put her arms ui>
I)s to hers. " The Lord
iken away ; " she began,
other awful day. And
man finished the quota-
clasped to Lis heart :
,he Lord.''

HLIPPED UNAW'AUJCS,

208

What need of words ? Wo all know liow his
« lunch and city sorrowed: how tho state and even
nation ic.'y bereaved; liow, in mission boards and
mission fields and many a distant land, they
niDurned, not only the good man fallen but the
j,^(!norouH friend, tho consecrated lielper removed.
'I'liis was no jjrivate grief, too far had his influ-
ence spread. The mighty voice and pen, liow
they would bo missed! What could take their
places? Earth hivs so few such men she can illy
spare one.

" Tall men Sun-crowned, who live above tho fog,
In public duty and in private thinking."

Around tho world tho news ti-avelled. The tele-
gram to Raymond was followed by tho letter never
ended, only begun, like the life of him who
penned it.

" I am living in Reulah-land, I shall not be
surprised any day to find myself beyond the gates
of pearl," ho had written. " It is such a delight
to know the ' old, old story ' will not drop, un-
ntlcred, because I can no longer repeat it ; doubly
ii (leliglit to know my own dear sons can so worth-
ily herald tho coming and kingdom of my Lord.
Uayniond, ray son, I joy in you. Of all tlie good
gifts of my God — and they are many, they have
crowded my li.e — I thank Him most for these :
A wife who has ever been an inspiration, n divine;
assistant heavenward, and children who are a
crown of glory not only to myself but my
Redeemer.

" Meet mo some day — work done — if not bur-

004

UKHBKHr UAItDKNKI.L, JR.

dfno.l withHheiiveH, at least weary M.i\ fuirowed by
tho toil that piopaies ihein for the « eapniK «)f «>t '«'^j
The hibor may Vi hard, hut the ht.iii-s are Hioitaiid
the Kternal City in ever in view. It m only aHkn>

hence "

Nay, it woh only a pen-Btroko. The next word
the Recording Angel wrote wan " Olory," an the
wbite-rolKjd, waiting ones wafted him with.n tho
gates and he found himHclf at H(»me.

» What else could (Jod do for him ? " wrote Lee,
in a note of »ynn.athy to Olive. " I c.uld not
sleep aftar that sern.on Sunday; it seemed that
even 1 had been lifted into some realization of the
unseen countiy. I think now, .w I tl^oug't;!'"";
that be had come so close to heaven that Our
Father could do nothing less than let bun in.

" If the laws of growth ara eternal, ivs it seems
to me they mast l)e, it is possible God has to take
some men out of this world to lot them grow.
They absorb so much, so fast, tlu7 can no longer
leain under our limited conditions; the Etenial
within them demands Eternity without. We
would not willingly think of your father as ham-
pered in any wav, hindered in bis growth or even
delayed. We cannot conceive it. We could spare
bim better than we could see bim less than liu:

"" bo you find comfort in tbe thought, Olive?
I do. to me be will always l^e a present friend.
You know I did not see bim often, but I bad him.
I have bim yet." ,

Some thing of the same feeling came to Stanton
when in one mail be received that bvst precious

:nkil,JR.

ireiiry M,^\ furrowed by
r tilt) n!ii|>iiig of (»tlit'ii*.
Ih«!ht>iii-Hiir« Hhortaiid
iew. It in only ivHtep

oko. The next word
w»iH " Glory," «w the
nifted him within the
it Home.

i for him ? " wrote Lee,
Olive. " I could not
nuliiy ; it seemed that
some reftlizalion of the
low, iw I thought then,

to heaven that Our
18 than let him in.

ara eternal, as it Heems
jHHible God hiw to take
nld to lot them grow,
ast, th»7 can no longer
onditiona; the Eternal
ternity witlumt. We
of your father aa ham-

1 in his growth or even
live it. We could spare
I Bee iiim less than hi;^

in the thought, Olive'.'
rrays l>e a presetit friend,
m often, but I had him.

feeling came to Stanton
'ived that last precious

HLll'I'Kt) VSAWARKH.

206

litter, and with it one frotn llerlwrt telling of hiit
liither'n death. He returned the sacred vapiHllo
that they all might read it.

" Flo seems very near n)e," the dear Missionary
wrote, " nearer than ever In-fore. Heaven itself is
very near and *\\\vvX in thin land of death whero
to day's health may rest in to-morrow's tomb. I
have a peituliar sense of his presence, as if in Icsing
Ills lM)dy his soul came closer to my own. I «lo
not miss, I have him. And oh, the joy of having
liiid his love, and fellowship, and teat-hing ! Wo
ought to I M) spiritual princes who shared the futhei"-
liood of such a king I **

How hallowed lliis voice from the dead sent
hiuik to them over the waves I How impossible to
lliink him gone as the familiar handwriting l(M)ked
up at them from the page. They could hoar the
very tones of his voice, the tenderness thatbreatluMl
through every written word. Ho had Iwcn laid
ivway these five months, but this letter brought him
close at hand.

It was full of interest in Stanton and his work,
little helpful suggentions, a few earnest comminds
concerning the care of his body, needful rest, etc.
Then it went on.

" I feel like a school-boy when vacation lias
l)('<jfun. It is not coming, it is here. I have had a
talk with mamma and Herbert, made all things
ready, my soul mounts up as naturally as if it had
wings. If this is death how wonderfully swefit it
is, there is nothing in my heart but deep content.
I have an intuition that this may be my last letter

mmmmmmmm

20R HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

to vou. But if it is we shall not mind it, you and I ;
nothing can ever separate us. I shall be near you
I dare to think that perhaps on ray upward flight
Our Father will grant me a short visit to your
lonely hut, a glance, if but n.omentarj', of your
dear self and your work. 1 can never lose interest
iu either while I am myself, and I shall always be
that or something better.

"Who can guess the surprises awaiting us
vonder ? I get premonitions of a glory I cannot
express, heailgi-a^ps of Eternity fluttering glimpses
of the Savioui^B face. My Earth-heart is too feeble
to hear much pressure, God graciously withholds
more than a taste, but how it sets me lo"gi"g for
a feast. Nay, hardly longing. I am too enrapt-
ured with His will to hasten it one heart-heat or
to hinder it one bre..th. Stanton, whatever else
deatli does for us, it does not separate us from the
E-thewill and love of God. Caiyt separate
us therefore from those who know His love and do
His will?"

Herbert's voice broke here ; he could not go on.
His mother took the sheet from his hand and
finished its reading.

"Out of the weakness of my failing body my
soul triumphantly asserts its 8t.;ength and proves
that, not the clay but what inhabits it, is Eternal,
mi, 'yet not I ' in me is mightier than in the
height of my prime. The physical faltering i*,
tthe dropping of tlie husk that the <.-. nuy
mature, api^ear, come into the fulness of the sun s
warm rays."

At the close of the letter were a few lines which
puzzled Olive sorely at the firat reading.

ENELL,JR. ' '

not mind it, you and I ;
i. I shall be near you.
)8 on my upward flight
3 a short visit to your
t momentary, of your
1 can never lose interest
', and I shall always be

surprises awaiting us
)ns of a glory I cannot
■nity, fluttering glimpses
Earth-heart is too feeble
)d graciously withholds
f it sets me longing for
ing. I am too enrapt-
stLii it one heart-heat or
Stanton, whatever else
not separate us from the
[ God. Can it separate
lo know His love and do

3re ; he could not go on.
3et from his hand and

1 of my failing body my
its strength and proves
at inhabits it, is Eternal,
is mightier than in tlie
'he physical faltering is
husk that the corn may
> the fulness of the sun's

er were a few lines which
lie first reading. '^'

SLIPPED UNAWARES.

207

" I had nearly forgotten what, after all, was
tlie chief canse of my writing at this time. I
liad a long talk with my Girlie last niglit. Not
such a one as I am liaving with you, slie is hardly
roady for that yet, but one it would not displeiuse
you to hear. Do you remember that we decided
one night she mmt grow ? Well, she is growing.
lou were not mistaken, the end is sure."

" Growing I " What could he mean ? Surely
not in stature, could he mean in grace ? Her
heart gave a thrill. Had her father, ripe as he was,
so near the kingdom, liscovered what she had
hardly yet dared to believe, that she was really
growing Godward. Slie must grow faster, she
must be ready to meet this adored parent. Slie
did not forget that question of his, " Can death
separate us from those who know His love and do
His will ? " Henceforth this should be her life's
one aim, to know and love God and His will.

There were resolutions of every description sent
to this home, and letters poured in upon every side ;
Letters of condolence, sympathy, love. Among
tliosethe most prized were those from Mr. and Mrs.
Rogers, Eddie Campbell, Mra. Cartwright and
Raymond. Poor Raymond ! for whose bleeding
heart there seemed no healing. Over his mother
and how she would endure this blow he was par-
ticularly troubled.

" If I could come to you I would," he wrote her,
" T am praying for you and aching for you, may
God Himself come to your aid."

208 HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

And Ho did. It was a wonder to all how tlu3

J Uoi„ tlioHe who needed her moat.

^'^rt;t&en loved, adoved „o.-. They
etag.l^W „p to and hang on 1-- ---*''

dr^d^r:^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Xd b"t did not try to ding or hang »he
topped her whole »eU on Hi» heart and rested.

VELL, JR.

»nder to all how this
of her beloved. So
,st glad Wiu4 she as ii
and partaken of the
: awhile to strengthen

er most.

thize with her, expect-

in grief, found them-
the comforter. Hers
■it thoughtful of every
ative of eveiy word of
ove and sympathy for
,te Ray and Stanton
pt, and wondered, and
ve and ti « boys to her
venly magic extracting
■ sorrow, leaving some
;th of her own faith era-
sed, adored her 1 They
xng on her, even as she
ung on to Christ. Ah,
) said. She looked up,
to cling or hang, she
His heart and rested.

HIS FATUEWS PULPIT.

209

- %-\

; - CHAPTER XXI.
HIS father's pulpit.

" God's design ' " " ' f;:

I see, and say through hopes and fears, "f*

' The crown is here.' "

" The vision of alt my past life ' »:, '

Was an awful thing to face;

Alone with my conscience sirting , ^ ;

In that solemnly silent place. • ""s

*' And I know of the fnture Judgment,
How dreadful soe'er it be,
That to sit alone with my conscienf.'e
Will be judgment enough for me."

To Herbert's sui-prise, in a few weeks he found
himself unanimously called to his father's pulpit.
Flattering as some might have thought this offer,
to the young man, it brouglit only grief and pain.
To fill his father's place he felt would be impossi-
ble should he attempt it.

He would much rather liave chosen a humbler
flock, a more unobtrusive position. The mission
where he had delved so long, some country church
far removed from these scenes of former joys.
But the choice was not with him. More really
than ever before he was not his own. He must
14

210 JIERBERT OABDENELL, JR.

not count self. His mother, Olive, the boys'-
Should he not preserve to them the old home, the
familiar surroundings, all the possibilities the
larger salary would command ? His father's words
came back to him ; he felt their weight. For Im
mother's sake as little as possible must be changed.
She must not lose with her husband, her home,
her work, her associates.

His resolve was taken. The committee infonned
of his decision. The church would change its
pastor, but not his name ; it would still be Rev.
Herbert Gardenell.

The name, but not the fact. Oh, liow he real-
ized it ! How could the people endure him Sal)-
• bath after Sabbath when so used to his father's ripe
scholai-ship and spirituality? Self-pity was lost in
commiseration of the congregation, and yet how
' he shrank from occupying that sacred desk.
There where his father had stood for so many
years, where, as lad and man, he had listened to
him with reverential awe, where, in lat«r years, he
had stood by his side or supplied for him during
vacations. How could he make it his own place?
The garment was too big ; it did not fit ; would he

ever grow to it ?

He rose in the settling twilight and taking a key
from the peg— its place for years, made his way to

the old church.

He went un into the pulpit and knelt where his
father so often had kneeled, he wept with his face
buried in the cushiona of his father's chair. There

f^ii^-rA'^*^'-''-"''''"-''^'^

NELL, JR.

r, Olive, the boys'.
3in the old home, the
the possibilities the
? His father's words
leir weight. For his
ible nuist he changed.
• husband, her home,

le committee infoi-med
ch would change its
it would still be Rev.

,ct. Oh, liow he real-
!ople endure him Sal)-
isedto his father's ripe
' Self-pity was lost in
•egation, and yet how
g that sacred desk,
id stood for so many
an, he had listened to
'here, in lat«r years, he
ipplied for him during
nake it his own place?
t did not fit; would he

ilight and taking a key
years, made his way to

pit and knelt where his
i, he wept with his face
is father's chair. There

HIS FATHER'S PULPIT.

211

he solemnly dedicated liimself to serve his father's
clmroli and people, stretching outliis empty hands
for guidance.

He was there for hours. It was late and quite
(lark, when at length he rose to grope his way out.
lie laid one hand on the jmlpit and raised the
olher solemnly and his rich, deep voice fUled the
room : " He is my father's God and I will exalt
Him," he said, and quietly passed down the aisle
and out.

The young minister had no idea that any other
pei-son than himself was in the church that night.
But God had willed that his fii-st utterance from
the old pulpit should be the conviction of a wan-
dering soul.

A poor, dissipated young man, strayed away
from home and the prayem and tears of a father
and mother ; cold, sleepy, half-intoxicated, fell up
ajj'ainst the chui'ch-door, and seeing it was ajar
slipped stealthily in, fearful of being seen and
ejected.

He had been wandering all day and half the
night before and dropped into a deep sleep as soon
as he touched the first pew into which he stumbled.
He did not know what aroused him, but lie
woke with a start, and unconscious of his where-
ul)outs began to feel around him. The narrow
walls of his habitation suggested a horrible fear : —
he was dead ! he was buried 1

His distended eyes just then took in a vision.
Wivs it man or angel ? Something tall and dark,

212

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

.H.-

with gUvimiiig eyea and a white face. And then,
distinctly through the gloom, like a voice from
another world, came the words, — " He is my
/athe/8 God."

The stricken wretch heard no more. Palsied
with fear he wallowed on the floor scarcely daring
to breathe.

The next morning the janitor found him more
dead than alive. It was a wonder he had not act-
ually died of fright, for he was sure he had seen a
denizen from another world. All that long night
and for many succeeding ones those five words
rang in his eara, " He is my father's God."

It was meant for him. Wlio else? Had not
his father's God searched him out at last? Would
Ho not bring him into judgment ? Great convic-
tion seized the man's soul ; he could not shake it
off. He gave no account of himself to the janitor,
only he said the door was open and he walked
in and had seen a spirit.

" It's the spirit that generally resides in a bottle,
I guess," laughed the janitor. " Take my advice
and let it alone." ,■ > .; '

Let it alone I he dared not touch it. He felt
like one who has faced the judgment and hardly
knows whether he lives or not. "My father's
God ! " The morning and evening prayera raised
tinder the humble home roof came back to his
memory with wonderful power, moving him to
longings for better things. If he could but recall
the past, if he might have another chance?

-Whtf l^'^-"'^ ■**"*'*' ^^•' ' '■"'>*«""»"

NELL, JR.

niS FATUKIVS PULPIT.

S18

lite face. And then,
n, like a voice from
vords, — " He is my

d no more. Palsied
floor Bcarcely daring

itor found him more
mder he had not act-
us sure he had seen a
All that long night
ties those five words
•ather's God."
tVlio else? Had not

out at last? Would
nent ? Great convic-
le could not shake it
liimself to the janitor,

open and he walked

lly resides in a bottle,
t. " Take my advice

3t touch it. He felt
judgment and hardly
not. "My father's
vening prayei-s raised
»of came back to his
iwer, moving him to
If he could but recall
other chance ?

A strange fascination drew him over ahd over
ajjfiiiii to the spot where ho had seen the vision,
lit'iinl the voice. And Sunday morning — that Sun-
day Herbert so dreaded — the longing to go in and
see the place overcame the youtli's superstitious
fears, and he entered.

He dropped into the pew nearest the door as lie
had done before, and looked about with a half-
siiuddering awe. He was not a fool or madman,
this young man, but a fellow-mortal, awake to
awful realities, impaled before his own conscience,
which makes cowards of us all. That conscience
wliich he liad trampled underfoot with his father's
counsels and his mother's prayers had suddenly
taken the throne and he trembled before it as all
must who dare its judgments.

His eyes never left the young preacher's face,
from the utterance of the first sentence to the last.
For the first sentence was that which he had heard
so stmngely a few nights ago. Herbert had chosen
for a text the verse brought to his mind that
evening. It was to be his future battle-cry, his
father's God and His Excaltation.

He did not forget the sinner's portion. He had
solemnly covenanted with God for souls, for men
and women redeemed from sin through his min-
istry ; for men and women to take his place in the
foreign field if hemiist stay at home. He expected
them. Not knowing who sat in his audience
trembling, he cried, God-moved:

" Young man, your father's God calls you to-day.

■*iri&H

814

IlERBEHT UAHDdNSLL, Jit.

Yoii have left alike both Illm ami father, spurned
offered love and mercy. But do not tliink you are
given up ; nay, God is after you to-day. Your
fatlier's prayers must be answered; the Spirit is
pleading with you anew. IIo whispers, ' To-day, if
you will hear His voice, harden not your heart,
your father's God waits to Iw merciful."

lie ended with a stirring apjwal to the children
of Christian parents, dedicate to God from their
birth, specially dear to His he , robbing Him of
their youth and strength. For young Christians he
liad his word also, the power to exalt their father's
God, the wide opportunities, the open dooi-s, the
crying needs.

This sermon was no failure. And way back
there in the last pew sat a man with his hands over
his eyes, his first prayer trembling on his li^w, his
first honest resolve for God heard and noted in
heaven.

Herbert waited awhile in the vestry on his knees
before he left the church. He had not proceeded
far when some one accosted him. ^i v ; ,ifi»

" You are the young minister ? "

In spite of the marks of dissipati m\ on his face,
there were traces of refinement in voice and
manner.

" I am," answered Mr. Gardenell heartily. " Can
I befriend you in any way ? "

" Oh, sir, if j^ou only will help me to God 1 "
Wivs ever gospel-toacher met with gladder request?
In another moment, arni linked in that of the

ifu*Av>B^) ^'tHin^^'i^

NELL, JR.

HIS FATIIEH'S PULPIT.

216

a ftiul father, spunuMl
do not think you iiro
r you to-(liiy» Your
iwered ; tlio Spirit is
whispers, 'To-day, if
den not your heart,
merciful."

ppeal to the children
te ' to God from their
le. , robbing llim of
ir young Christians he
to extilt their father's
, the open dooi-s, the

are. And way back

m with his hands over

bling on his liixs, his

heard and noted in

le vestry on his knees
e had not proceeded
m.

ter?"

isipati m on his face,
ment in voice and

cuell heartily. " Can

help nie to God 1 "

yitli gladder request?

ked ill that of the

stranger, Herbert was talking earnestly as they
hastened toward his home.

U[) in the old study, before father's chair— that
conseciated spot 1 Heil)ert laid liis fii'st sheaf
t'loni this new calling at the feet of his father's God.
Koht'it Langmoro went out from that holy place
witli a light in his eye and a glow in his heart that
would liavo filled his mother's heart with joy had
slio but known it. In less than a week she did know
it and prayer was turned to praise in one Oliioiiome.

Ilis new ministry had received its seal. Iler-
lx;rt's joy and gratitude knew no bounds. This
convei'sion was followed by others and yet others;
a gracious revival began, and Iwfoi'o many months
liiul pjussed there were three score fiesh young
consecrated souls as fruits of his labor. And
brightest, most earnest among them, was tills fii-st
jewel plucked fiom the mire. Before the winter
elided, in the study where ho had found Christ,
Robert Langmore said :

" Mr. Gardeiiell, I feel sure I am to prepare
to preach the Gospel among the heathen. The call
is on me day and night. I have written home about
it, and my father is anxious I should begin study,
go to school, prepare. I have a little money saved,
so has he. I have come for your advice and blessing."

And Herbert Gardenell's answer sounded
strangely from the mark. " The Loi"d He is
God," he said, walking the study floor with tearful
upraised eyes. " The Lord He is God — my father's
Hod, I will exalt Him."

8I«

UEUBKRT QARDENELL, JR.

CHAPTER XXII.

LEB'8 8BCRKT.

•• I shall know by the gleam and glitter
Of the golden chain you wear,
By your heart's calm strength In loving,

0( the flro you have had to bear.
For as gold must be tried by fire.
So a heart must bo tried by jialn."

—A. Pbootob.

It may have been well for the young pastor that
he was kept bc busy, and not only for him but his
motl»er and sister, who became his advisers and
heluei-s in every good work.

Olive began again to bring her sewing to his
study. Not the old one, in the nursery, but his
father's, with its large windows and bright furnish-
ings and sober leather tomes ; no suggestion of
gloominess about it, though there the good man had
died as well as labored.

With his father's pulpit had come to Herbert
many of his father's duties and burdens. He
wondered sometimes how the dear saint had borne
it all. Men were not slow to discover that this son
was a worthy successor to his name ; and soon on
Mission Boards-young as he was-and varied

NELL, JR.

LEffH SKCRKT.

217

>•',■?

1*,.

XXII.

RET.

sam and glitter
you wear,
trongth In loving,
1 had to bear,
•led by fire,
Tied by pain."

—A. Pbootob.

r the young pastor that
ot only for him but his
scame his advisers and

>ring her sewing to his
in the nursery, but his
lows and bright furnish-
mes; no suggestion of
I there the good man had

t had come to Herbert
ties and burdens. He
the dear saint had borne
• to discover that this son
) his name ; and soon on
Eis he was— and varied

charities, ho found his services coveted and
vahu'd.

It wiis not long after coming into his new jmsition
when, one morning, the mail brought him i. ^otter
from the superintendent of public schools. It
iviiiiniuicod an opening for Miss Lcnore E. Erdley
lis t(!!ichor, in accordance with the applioatiou of
ills father some time before. «

"Olive," he inquired turning to his sister, "do
you know a Miss Lenore E. Erdloy?"

" Certainly I do. Read the initials and toll me
wliat they spell?"

" Lrc-e, " he said, " Lee. Oh, then she is the
friend I have heard you mention so often. It
seems she desires a position in our public school ; it
is ready."

Olive clapped her hands. " You must let her
know at once, Herbert." , .; %. i<^ t . ^^ :■

" Where can I find her ? "

" I really don't know. I have always addressed
her where she works. But she hasn't been at
Madam's for a week ; her mother is sick. She has
a secret, Herbert, something dreadful, I am afraid,
for she never once asked me to call on her, and
wlien I suggested it one day looked almost
lionified. T have often wondered what it could
be."

" Is that why my sister is so interested in
her?"

" Slanderer 1 But I forgive you unless after see-
ing her you repeat the offence. Think bow papa

W ll iH l l. ii l.... l . l "f

11RUHKHT OAUbKNKLL, J1.

it.

Sili

lovod her! And how her oytJH would Hgh. when
ht) ciiUod licr (liiUK'hloi-. Slio ii<lor«(l liim."

So HerU'it Hi'mchod lunoiif,' his fiithei'd lieloii^,'-
iiigH, and hit«) lliat ftflciiioon, in a little book of
addro»H«H, found tlie one ho Bought.

» I wish I could j?o with you," Mi>;d Olive kiss-
ing him K'<»od-l)yo, '• hut I would not for Uie worl.l
know what sho doos not wisii to Usll nio."

Ho found th'j i>laco roftdily. It was iu a son "f
alley, back of tho street, and behind sovoi-al largo
tenement houH«H of the bett«r sort, if anything can
1)0 said to bo hotter where all is so ill. It was a
respectable though very humble neighborhood.
A woman from one of tho outer houses pointed
him the door, adding the information that sho
occupied tho left hand side of tho down stairs

flat.

He pushed open the front door which stood ajar
and halted. A sweet, clear voice reached his eara.
Some one with remarkably fine accent and inflec-
tion was reading a German tale. He was rather
surprised as he knocked gently. - :'; • ?.'";>/ '

There was a pause in tho reading, the plight
rustle of a dress, the opening of a door, n.d the
young minister stood face to fiice with the loveliest
woman he had ever met.

" I b» .i jonv pardon, for disturbing you. I wish
to see Miss Erdley."

" That is my name," sho took the precaution to
step into the hall and close the door.

" I am Herbert Gardenell." *;4 i p': ^^!f

KSELL, Jl.

yti.s would lighL when
1) mlortid liiin."

w^ hia fiitlier'rt l»eloii^,'-
oii, in a little book of

HOU^llt.

yon," .s:';il Olivo kins-
vu\\h\ M'tt, for tlie world
(It to Usll ujo."

ly. It wtiH in a son "f

1(1 Ixjliiiul Hcvoml Iftigi!
tor Hort, if anything ciiii
,11 is HO ill. It was ii

huinl)lo neighborhood.
B ontor liouses pointed
informiition thiit v\w
lido of tho down i»tttii-3

it door whioh stood ajar
r voiee reiiched his esii-s.
r fine accent and inflee-
m tale. IIo was rather
jntly. ; ' ■ •
the reading, the flight
niiig of a door, n-d tho
to face with the loveliest

-- , . .t " - .-'' *^" '■ '

■ r-t-*-' - - « J- . . -' : •■. :-■ t • t .

disturbing you. I wish

9 took the precaution to

e the door.

,11." ■,.:-::: :,-■■■[ '^^:l^■

LKie'li SECRMT.

210

Small noed to tell hor that. "I ghould know
yoii i)y your father," she answered, with a Huiilo
tliiit Heemod to enveloj)o tho listener in pnre Hnn-
hIiIiio. Slie did not add as she might have done,
" I ht<iird you preach lust Sunday."

" My fatlier was interested in getting you a

.scliool."

Her eyes lighted. Ho had never «eon ,«y,.s like
litM-s that made ho unnoeesHiiry tho opening of lier
iil)S. Ho saw asudden shadow sweep their clear
depths before he realized that a voice from within
tho room was speaking.

"Bring the geatleman in, Lenore, bring tho
tlio gentlemen in." It was a peremptory voice used
to commanding, and being olwyed. The maiden
lo.)ked in his face with Bomothing like positive
pain upon her own.

" Your business can bo qjiickly dispatched, Mr.
Gardenell?" she said.

" Immediately," was the prompt reply. Hut the
voice within broke forth anew.

" Lenore Eniomon, I wish to see the gentleman
niy.self, I will see him."

There was repressed agony under tho maiden's
quiet, courteous " Miiy I introduce you to my
mother, Mr. Gardenell ? " He bowed and followed
her.

Tho dainty spotlesshess of the modest apartment
into which he stei ued struck him first. Its simple
comfortableness and air of superiority. A few easy
cliaira, a book-case well stocked, a piano, a couch

iWli

220

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

on which reclined the remnant of what had once
been >v very handsome woman.

He stooped courteously over the hand extended
to him, thanked her for his welcome though its ex-
travagance had marred it. But Lee's secret was no
longer hers only. Acquaintance with the low
haunts of New York, its Chinese quarters, opium-
dens, made it unnecessary that one should tell this
gentleman that the woman before him was a victim
of the debasing morphine habit, that she was just
now under the influence of the exhilaration that
accompanies a debauch. And the young lady
beside him knew all this, though nothing in his
manner intimated the truth.

He took the chair she offered him and proceeded
to business. It consumed very f e w moments, many
less than Mrs. Erdley's lamentations over the loss
of their former social standing, the mortification of
their present environments, her assurance that day
was about to break upon their fortunes, rendering
it unnecessary for her daughter even to con ider
his proposition. She thanked him volubly for his
kindness, but Lenore must not entertain a thought
of teaching, she was speedily to be restored to her
past position, etc., etc.

Herbert quite understood all this, and valued her
remarks for what they were worth, the vagaries of
a diseased brain. He bowed himself out while her
last words were still in his eare. " You can realize
the isolation from whicli we have suffered, Mr.
Gardenell, when I assure you that yju are the first

'«iifc

^sataMaK—rBWWt.tea a i 'l i ^lWMaitl

wntMvtnmwn

ihi'.^M^L'liUtij.indijiM^iif'^fiii^^f^l"^fV^'^^''

ENELL, JR.

LEE'S SECRET.

221

lant of what had once
ivn.

)ver the hand extended
\velcome though ita ex-
But Lee's secret was no
lintance with the low
hinese quarters, opium-
hat one should tell this
before him was a victim
labit, that she was just
f the exhilaration that
And the young lady
though nothing in his
1.

ered him and proceeded
rery few moments, many
lentations over the loss
ing, the mortification of
, her assurance that day
leir fortunes, rendering
ghter even to con ider
ked him volubly for his
not entertain a thought
ly to be restored to her

i all this, and valued her
e worth, the vagaries of
id himself out while her
eai-s. " You can realize
we have suffered, Mr.
'ou that you are the first

gentleman who has ever crossed this threshold
since we lived here. I trust when we are again in
a homo of our own we shall see you often."

Lenore drew the door close as she followed his
retreating form and looked wistfully into his face.
She wanted to ask him to keep her secret, spare her
mother's shame, but her lips refused to open.

They hsvd no need. He read in her face her
pain, her sorrow, her desire to shield this wreck of
womanhood, still known by so holy a title. All
tlie chivalry of his nature went out to meet her.
He held out his hand and spoke very tenderly as
she placed hers in it.

" I am your friend, you can trust me^ Your
mother shall be held as sacredly, even in my
thoughts, as my own."

The brave little head drooped a moment, there
was a tear on his hand as he went out. " You are
your father's son," she said, and no praise could
have been to him sweeter.

" A perfect gentleman, Lenore. And the first
who has ever darkened our doors, think oi ^hat ! "

Her daughter needed no exhortation .o such
thought. The spot ,vhere ha had stood, the seat
where he had sat, seemed sacred ; the place of her
torture had been hallowed by the presence of a
friend.

Herbert said little to Olive about his visit. He
had seen Lenore, he felt quite sure she would
a'^cept the situation. Yes, she was a very beautiful
woman. Unsattofactorv as this was, his sister was

mfmm

ft2&

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

forced to be content, until a card arrived stating
her friend's decision, and she danced otf to dress
liei-self for a walk to the schoolroom.

S)ie was so full of Lee for days that the home
circle got little else, and Herbert smiled and
mamma sympathized. This brother was interested
in spite of his coolness, but he did not get another
glimpse of the lady for months. Once he thought
he saw her in church. Looking towards the same
pew the next Sabbath a kind, elderly face met his
eyes. Once he heard her voice in his mother's room,
as he passed the half-open door, and saw the hem
of her dress. Again he had a vision of her and
his sister disappearing round a corner one day as
he stepped from a street-car.

'* I have tried and tried to have her come and
dine with us some day," cried Olive in despair.
" But she never can because of that selfish old
sick mother of hers."

" And what about this selfish sister of mine who
is not sick?" inquired her brother, hardly glancing
up from his paper. " Does Miss Erdley com-
plain?" . .,v„A-^

" No, you old Blessed I of course she doesn't,
tliat's all left to me. But truly I am trying to
be good. No, not to be good, but to be ffis, that
is the way Stfinton puts it. God's children never
complain. I must stop it."

The life in the parsonage was very quiet, dis-
turbed only occasionally by news from afar. Every
body was glad, therefore, and Olive in particular,

-' r<-)iMi»fe'*rff«i»tw^^^*y3t*'

ENELL, JR.

a card arrived stating
le danced otf to dreaa
oolroora.

ir days that the home
Herbert smiled ami
brother was intereste<l
he did not get another
ths. Once he thought
sing towards the same
d, elderly face met his
;e in his mother's room,
ioor, and saw the hem
d a vision of her and
id a corner one day as

o have her come and
jried Olive in despair,
ise of that selfish old

Ifish sister of mine who
►rother, hardly glancing
oes Miss Erdley com-

of course she doesn't,
truly I am trying to

od, hut to be His, that
God's children never

'e was very quiet, dis-
news from afar. Every
ind Olive in particular,

,:..n. "Y^- LEET 8 SECRET. ^SS

when Eddie Campbell wrote that he and Achor
and their " two hopefuls " were about to make them
a flying visit.

" Only for a few days, mamma," he wrote, for he
had never gotten over the habit of his childhood
in culling Mrs. Gardenell mother, " but you know
a little is better than none, when it is so good a
thing as the sight of my face; if you will please
read this backward imagining you are wriLiuif ii
to me."

Tliey had come. And this morning, Herbert,
determined to get all of the viijit he could, had
brought his mail to the sitting-room to open, that he
might get snatches of the convereation and " look
at his big cousin-brother all he pleased."

It was rare-looking. Not often such a handsome
face, merry heart and consecrated soul are united.
Olive and he were especial friends and this morni
ing she was sharing with him her treasures.

Achor had gone to Dr. Germaine's to see Esther
and had taken her youngest child with her, leav-
ing little Esther seated at Mr. Gardenell's feet,
helping him sort the mail. ChUdi-eu were par-
ticularly fond of Herbert. >^

"I think you promised to let me read your
father's last letter to Stanton, Olive?" said Mr.
Campbell.

" Yes, I did. Stanton let me keep it on purpose.
I knew you could not afford to miss it, or the one
Stanton wrote after receiving it."

" Wonderful, wonderful ! " said the gentleman

t^umtmmmtll

224 HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

a while after. " W lat a spiritual giant Stanton
Cartwright is! and aow proud of him and fond of
him your father w.ts."

"Everyl)ody is," replied Olive proudly.
" There's mamma, I believe she loves him as wull
as she does Herbert."

" Why not ? " asked mamma, smilingly. " 1 am
Bure my sou has never a pang of jealousy," looking
with utmost confidence into her firstrborn's face.

" He would hate himself if he had," replied Her-
bert, answering her glance with one of unmingled
love "One likes to have such a good article as
Stanton appreciated. Yet I doubt if anybody can
have due appreciation of such unselfish sacrifice as
he lives daily. Not a man on our Board who esti-
mates half what he has done and borne so far, or
his value to the mission. Why, I don't know a
tithe, and he writes to me more freely than to any
other mortal, and I have the faculty of reading
between his lines, too. I am used to his way of
solving problems. He ivorks them out."

"I've an idea I know anot: r something like
him," said Mr. Campbell quietly.

» Me ? " looking up scornfully. " Why, Ed, you
haven't a notion of how absolutely Stanton can ig-
nore himself. Sacrifice, self-denial! he likes them.
And there's so much of him to be yielded up and
used. There isn't a man in ten thousand with so
much to offer to God, or who so royally, so unreserv-
edly abandons himself to His will and purposes.
He never has to draw a breath over any demand

•MiiMWWili

■iiiiiiiiiMMtiiiiiri iiiitflii Wiiiii i i 'riiliil

-r*

ilM*l

■ni<^"M

NELL, JR.

iritual giant Stanton
id of him and fond of

id Olive proudly,
she loves him as well

na, smilingly. " I am
T of jealousy," looking
lier first-born's face,
f he had," replied Her-
vith one of unmingled
such a good article as
: doubt if anybody fan
ill unselfish sacrifice as
on our Board who esti-
e and borne so far, or
Why, I <loi»"t know a
noro freely than to any
the faculty of reading
wn used to his way of
b them out."
mot' r something like
uietly.

if ully. " Why, Ed, you
solutely Stanton can ig-
f-denial ! he likes them.
in to be yielded up and
,n ten thousand with so
3 so royally, so unreserv-
Hi8 will and purposes,
oreath over any demand

LEXrs SECRET.

225

or command after knowing He makes it. You
worded it just right, Ed— 'a Spiritual Giant.' I
wish I was worthy to be compared with him."

Olive's cheeks burned, and her eyes glowed as
slie listened, and Mr. Campbell stooped and kissed
her.

" I do not wonder you all love him," he said.
" I owe him one debt of gratitude I can never re-
pay," drawing Mrs. Gardenell fondly toward him.

" Everybody loves him because he loves every-
body," said Olive. " There's Lee, he was the first
to appreciate her and draw her out. I must sliow
you her letter, Eddie, it is so much like Stanton's.
They are a lot alike—inside. Perhaps," naively,
" that is why I love her so much."

She put a dainty missive in his hand. " What
beautiful chirography ! " he exclaimed. "Yes,"
after a pause, " she has tlie same thought, Olive,
you should send this to Stanton."

Herbert looked up from the sheet he was pe-
rusing. "Have I ever seen that. Princess?" he
asked. ^ •;

" No, I Ijave only shared it with mamma. You
do not care anything about Lee. I cannot interest
you in her."

He put out his hand. " I will read lier letter,
nevertheless," he said smiling.

He made no covnment when he passed it back ;
the last sentence had tied his tongue; he could hear
the sweet voice saj'ing again ," You are your father's

son.

«S

iiWiiiMli

226

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

" She is juat as beautiful as her letter," he heard
Olive sayiuEf. "Stanton called her n 'living
poem.' You ought to see her wash dishes ! It is
liigh art juj she does it. You needn't smile, Eddie,
nuunma and I know , we have seen her do it. Her-
bert has only seen her once, and he has been so
quiet about it, I know she did not impress him."

" Or impressed him too much for words," sug-
gested Mr. Campbell.

Herbert smiled, " Olive," he said, " my first im-
pression of Miss Erdley — outside of her personal
beauty — was her exceeding frailt}'. My second,
her exceeding strength."

" You indulge in paradox," exclaimed Eddie.

"Apparently; yes," assented Mr. Gardenell,
" perhaps not really so. It may be Miss Erdley is
physically as delicately strong as she undoubtedly
is mentally and spiritually."

Mi"s. Gardenell smiled at the look on her daugh-
ter's face, such a mixture was it of pleasure and
perplexity. To Olive lier brother spoke with the
same degree of interest and accuracy as he would
if analyzing a flower.

Mr. Campbell came to the rescue. " Can you
not manage to give me a glimpse of your friend,
Olive?" he inquired. '• I don't know when I
have been so interested in the description of a
stmnger."

" Will you go with me to meet her after school ? "
cried Olive.

" Gladly. I wonder does she love children and

■^^SliMwMw

iMM

MWnmtAMBa BjitaeKitaN^

VELL, JR.

her letter," he heard
illed her a 'living
r wash disiies I It is
needn't smile, Eddie,
seen her do it. Her-
, and he has been so
I not impress him."
uch for words," sug-

e said, " my first im-
iide of her personal
frailt}'. My second,

exclaimed Eddie,
ited Mr. Gardenell,
lay be Miss Erdley is
y as she undoubtedly

LESrs SECRET.

227

le look on her daugh-
is it of pleasure and
i"other spoke with the
accuracy as he would

I rescue. "Can you

mpse of your friend,

Jon't know when I

the description of a

eet her after school ? "

jho love children and

would she like a ride ? I might take the carryall
and Achor and my babies."

"Eddie Campl,ell, you are simply delightful, too
good for anything. But before you see her face I
want to tell you one more thing about lier. She
wante to be a missionary. She never said so quite,
you know she couldn't. She would not Nvant what
Gods seemed not to will. But-well, I will tell
you what she said once when talking witli Stanton
and me about it. I think I can give her very
words, for I could not forget them, thougli I did
not undei-stand them then as I do now. I wish you
could hear her say it herself. It will not mean as
much as I repeat it.

" ' I have thought sometimes,' she said, and her
eyes said more then her lips, ' that I would
wdhngly give half of the years of my life for the
privdege of telling, during the otlier half, to those
who never knew it, the power of Christ to save.
I thmk I would be willing to die on the shore of
some far-away land, if only by dying I might show
those lost ones liow death is swallowed up in Life
—Life Eternal." ^

Olive's voice faltered and almost broke, and Her-
hort lifted little Esther suddenly to his knee and
111(1 his face in her curls.

" If you could Iiav« heard her say it, Eddie-
Death iB swallowed up in Life-aa if it already was
a .sublime reality. And Stanton told me she had
spoken the language of his own heart," sobbed the
gill. " I thought of her words when papa died and—

',mimmsfmmimi«iimmi,iitiima^ri^<s^MimmMe. ;.,. .'ns^tmi^mnimmmmimmiim

228

UEUBEUT GARDEJfELL, JR.

and it comforted me. For if death is swallowed up
in life for her, it can bo for me, aa we know it cer-
tainly is for papa." . r*l ^

Inhere were teai-s in Esther's golden curls and a
manly heart thrilled with unuttered sympathy.
Could he have better described the mighty yearn-
ings of his own soul for this coveted work ? He
was not alone, then, in his experience. Might there
not be many others beside this fair, frail girl who
had felt all the strange questionings, the seemingly
cross-purposes of a soul set on a forbidden mission?
Perhaps she had struggled, had suffered as he had
before she accepted with such gentle grace, the
inevitable.

Up before his mind's eye rose the pictui-e of that
unpretentious room, that couch and its faded,
debauched, silly occupant. Had ho even thought
a murmur over his lot ? Then might God forgive
him. He contrasted his mother, his home, his
sister and brothei-s, his glorious work and plenti-
ful opportunities with the limited possibilities, the
comparative hopelessness of the task set that
strong yet gentle spirit, and humbly asked God to
make him worthy to stand with such as her beside
His throne at last. That moment Lenore Erdley
was canonized ; Herbert Gardenell accorded her a
place in his heart and prayers. And Olive knew
it not.

#;;:"'■■

-[fiiWiHii

■^ni

wmmmmm

ELL, JR.

ftth i8 awallowed up
, an we know it cer-

goltlen cuils and a
mttered synipatliy.
[ the mighty yearn-
joveted work ? He
•ience. Might there
fair, frail girl who
lings, the seemingly
I forbidden mission?
1 suffered as he had
li gentle grace, the

10 the pictui-e of that
ach and its faded,
ad ho even thought
I might God forgive
ther, his home, his
us work and plenti-
ted possibilities, the
the task set that
unibly asked God to
,h such as her beside
nent Lenore Erdley
enell accorded her a
3. And Olive knew

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

229

CHAPTER XXin.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

"It chanced Etenial God that chance did guide."

Spbncer.
" To see the hand of God in the present, and to trust the
future iu tlie hand of God is tlio secret of peace."

T. L. CUYLEB.

The second summer after Stanton's departure
found Mrs. Gardenell's family pretty well scattered.

Olive had gone to Maine to. visit Mrs. Cart-
wright and perfect the acquaintance begun on
paper. Harry waa spending his vacation in the
West with Uncle George Rogers, Eddie with a
friend in Massachusetts. Herbert alone remained
with mamma at their summer home.

It was very quiet, almost lonesome, at Bloom-
ingle without the merry-making of the boys and
Olive's girlish chatter. Yensie and her first-born
Clime closer together if possible in those long
beautiful days. They had time to tiilk over many
tilings Jiecessarily put aside in the rush of life : to
compare notes and look at each other, as the son
declared, as they sat on the broad verandah, he
reading, she sewing ; or she reading and he lying

iMW^IIIWhll

280

IMIil

MPNPiPliP

llEUUKRT OAHDKNKLL^ JH,

idly in tho liiitnmock taking the rest natare
duMiiuidy and iimiHts on linving, 80oncr or Liter.

However, Ilorlnji't had a call to town to-diiy
which would probably keep him over night.
Mury-Ann and her boys came out early in tho
morning to his delight. lie disliked leaving his
mother alone with tho servants. He would be
back as early as possibio to-morrow, he said, kissing
her fondly and charging Ted — Marj'-Ann's oldest —
to remain with her until his return.

A sick parishioner, one who for many yeais had
listened to his father's preaching and latterly to
his own, was nigh to death. Hi,s Christian wife
was greatly exercised over his condition, and Her-
bert s[)ent most of the day in the home and at the
bedside of the dying man. There seemed actual
incapacity for spiritual truth ever in its simplest
form. He had neglected, until it was gone, his
power to perceive God, and the young pastor's
heart was heavily burdened over his loss.

At eight o'clock tliat evening, weary, jaded and
feeling ho had done all in his power, Herl)ert
turned from tho mansion towards the parsonage to
spend the night in the old home.

Preoccupied, saddened, he walked along, hardly
heeding whither, until the sound of sacred song
fell on his ear. It came from a mission near, and
they were singing Lyto's tender, familiar hymn,
"Abide with me." Ho stopped to listen, tho
words fitted into his mood, he found himself repeat-
ing them under his breath with impassioned fervor.

riMiilir

iE^aBseis<«5ssi(*tesftiS«eB!f

mmm

fJilL^ JH,

ig the rest nature
f, sooner or Liter,
sail to town to-diiy
) him over night,
no out early in the
disliked leaving his
M\tn. He woidd he
TOW, lie said, kissing
Mar3--Ann's oldest —
iturn.

I for many yeais had
ling and latterly to

Ili.s Christian wife

condition, and Her-
the home and at the
riiere seemed actual

ever in its simplest
til it was gone, liis

the young pastor's
'er his loss,
ig, weary, jaded and

liis power, Herl)ert
rds the parsonage to
lie.

valked along, hardly
)und of sacred song

a mission near, and
der, familiar hymn,
pped to listen, tlio
'ound himself repeat-
1 impassioned fervor.

AN UNKXPECTKh MEETINO. 281

" Not a bripf glance, I bog, a piwHlng word ; -.>,

lint a.i Thou .IwPllVr with Thy dUclpl.,.,, Lord.
Famlllur, coiuli-gfeiulln;;, patloiit, free,
Come, not to sojourn, bsit abide with me I"

His heart echoed the prayer ; tears rMrang tohij
eyes. What would ho take to-nigi,t f;)r l,ij
Christian hope ? Never had i t seemed so priceless,
ilow precious the consciousness of his Lord's
I.resenco, approval. How could ho hear the awful
possihilities of the hour for that passing soul m.less
lie hud known he Wiis free from the guilt of blood
had faithfully done all that lay in his power for
this man's salvation. And God had done all He
could. Who was to hlame ?

He stepped over the sill to the vestibule He
would go in. He needed just the refreshing that
would come from such simple, lieart-felt testi-
monies as he was sure to hear there.

The back seats were full as usual. Ho had to go
quite a distance up the aisle to ;::.d a place. They
were singing something else now, and he was un-
porceived. Quietly he dropped into a seat, and
covered his eyes. The vision of the sick-chamlKn-
yet clinging to his memory.

How heartily they sang. There were tmined as
wdl as untrained voices in that throng. Men and
women who had earned their living with their
«ong, men and women who had once lieen the boys
and girls of cultured homes, as well as men and
women who had never known the meaning of that
word— home. One pure, sweet alto-a woman's

., *

^ i-?y&SJ--i?f.-'*^.se!!:;sn,?^s-*^

■■ >>-hiWiffiimi8»»irrii iiitW"f»^

282 UKKHKHT ()Altl)t:NKLL,JR.

alto— fell with peculiar Hoothiiig on the rainiater's
mm. Ho aid not look ui.Jio did not caro to know
from whence i^ came. Ho had rather liaten with
lH>\vedhead and chwud oyos, drinking in the Hpirit

, ^ of the song.

^''' ^ The earnest, honest prayei-s that followed,

falling from lips all unusod to such utterances,
hrought tears anew to his eyes. How he loved
these rough diamonds ! Let others choose more
fastidious surroundings, smoother tongues. The
stammerii'g praises of these lately depraved men
touched his heart as few things could. Out of the
depths they had cried, and \mn\ heard. Out of the
depths had they l)con lifted— the depths not only
of ignorance and wretchedness, but of blasphemy
nnd sin. His was a missionary heart wherever it
beat -Americft or Africa—ho loved the lost— the

saved.

Scripture, song, testimony followed fast one
upon another. No pauses, no dull places. Tragedy
and comedy were strangely mingled in the scraps
of heart history brought to light. Tho smile and
the tear trip each other up in the genuine mission-
room.

At length an old man rose. He had once been
as bad as any of them, but had begun the new life
something less than a year go. There had been
%\ hard places since, he wouldn't deny, but never one

BO hard as that he had come to now. The wife
was opposing him " turrible," and the boy going the
very way ho went himself once, wiping his eyes,

liiigMMatiii

T-

mmm

SELL,. JR.

iiig on the minister's
did not care to know
id mthor listen with
Irinking in the spirit

yei-s that followed,
to such utterances,
jyoH. IIow he loved
, others choose more
)other tongues. The
lately depraved men
^8 could. Out of the
vsw heard. Out of the
-the depths not only
3SS, but of blasphemy
ary heart wherever it

loved the lost — the

y followed fast one
dull places. Tragedy
mingled in the scraps
light. The smile and

1 the genuine mission-

B. He had once been
ad begun the new life
go. There had been
I't deny, but never one
le to now. The wife
" and the boy going the
[)nce, wiping his eyes,

AN VNKXl'ECTKU AIKKTING.

the work was dull, only about half time, an ' like to
close altogether soon. But the ohl man's chief
Korrow lay in the discouragement that had reached
his own soul. Temptation hud overcome him, ho
li;i(l given way to a lit of passion and "spoiled it
;ill." God knew he wanted to be right — but l»e-
tween it all, trouble without and within -especially
within — and no i)eaco anywhere — here he broke
down entirely and took his seat in tears.

There was a hush afte- he ceased speaking.
Every heart was full of sympathy but no one knew
just how to express it. Or if anylwdy did it still
went unexpressed. A quiet dropped down on the
company.

Tlien suddenly across the silence came a voice,
Bweet, clear, unhesitating, yet l)eautifully modest.

" Leave it with Him,
Til lilies all do,
And they grow—
Tliey grow In the rain,
And tlieygrow In the dew-
Yes, they grow,
Tlicy grow In the darkness, all hid In the night ;
They grow In the sunshine, revealed by the light.
Still they grow.

" The grasses are clothel
And the ravens are fed
From Ills store ;
But you, who are loved
And guarded and led,
How much more
Win He clothe you, and feed you, and give you His care ?
Then leave It with Him ; He has evei-ywhere
Ample store.

IHWaiMi

234

HEllBERT OARDENELL, JR.

" Yes, leave It with Him,

'Tls more dear to His heai+,
You well know,
Than the lilies that bloom,
Or the flowers that start
'Neath the snow.
■VThat you need, if you ask It in prayer,
You can leave It with Him, for you are His care,
You, you know."

Herbert started at tlie firat sound of that voice —
he liad heard it before. He almost held his breath
until the last word fell from the lips. The message
was for him as well as for this poor old tempted
saint. He would leave with Jesus the burden
pressing his heart.

There was a stillness ensued that seemed to
hold the very atmospheie as if an angel had spoken.
In the hush the young clergyman peered over in
the direction whence the voice had come. He
was not mistaken. He saw a pale, intellectual face,
with deep s^'uipathetic eyes, delicate nostrils and
sensitive mouth. It wi.3 Lenore Erdley. Unseen
himself he watched her .stealthily for the remainder
of the evening, reading every emotion of her soul
as it mirrored itself on her faoe.

The leader caught up the spirit of her words.

" That is just it," he said, '• the whole of religion,
the whole of life. Leave everything with Jesus —
yourself with the rest. Don't carry your burdens,
don't carry yourself, and don't worry over either.
Drop them on Jesus, leave them with Jesus. Be
sure He will take care of both them and you. Then

mmmtmmimimm:--'

immmtt

mmm

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

285

NELL, JR.

Him,

to His liear^,

lOW,

lat blocm,

that start

snow.

It in prayer,

for you are His care,
iw."

sound of that voice —
ilmost held his breath
he lips. The message
his poor old tempted
Lth Jesus the burden

isued that seemed to

if an angel had spoken.

gyniau peered over in

voice had come. He

pale, intellectual face,

delicate nostrils and

nore Erdley. Unseen

hily for the remainder

y emotion of her soul

iioe.

spirit of her words.
• the whole of religion,
crything with Jesus —
't carry your burdens,
3n't worry over either,
them with Jesus. Be
them and you. Then

you will be sure to grow. Growth is not, never can
be, the result of effort, but always and only of life —
life within. It must and will find expression."

The meeting ended, Herbert slipped as quietly
out as he had entered. It was raining hard. Fort-
unately he had his umbrella with him. Not that
ho had feared a shower — seldom had an evening
looked less like it — but because, on leaving home
in the morning, his mother had put it in his hand
saying he might need it before his return.

He blessed her thoughtful ness now as in the
shadow of a building he spread it and waited until
a form he recognize'' approached.

" Will you kindly let me share my umbrella
with you, Miss Erdley ? " he asked, and smiled at
the startled glance she gave him.

" Mr. Gardenell ! " she said in surprise.

" You did not know I was present at the Mis-
sion to-night. Allow me," di-awing her hand
through his arm. " I was detained in the city and
dropped into the meeting for a rest hardly expect-
ing this privilege."

Unused to such attentions the young lady did
not reply. She was almost troubled. Her quiet
disturbed Herbert, who said a good deal in order to
draw her out. He wanted to hear her talk, and
wondered how he should set her at ease.

A happy thought struck him. " When did you
hear last from Olive ? " he inquired.

" A week ago.

.»' «>*■■■

-■"jm

mikuiiiiilmliitidiliiitm

mmw«iMaMM

ipipp

V'f

286

IIEBBERT GARDENELL, JR.

news. We had a letter

" Then I have later
yesterday."

She was enthused immediately ; her spirit kin-
dled as he went on giving her, as he knew how, the
very essence of Olive's charming epistle.

" Among other things it contained the latest
word from Africa," he continued. He felt the
womau at his side grow still as if her whole being
were listening.

" One of Stanton's boys has been converted."
She drew a breatli of joy. " Which cue ? " she
questioned eagerly. " Is it Balulu? " . i

He laughed softly. "So you know Stanton's
Vmys by name as well as the jest of us. Yes, it is
Balulu. Miss Erdley, would you mind telling roe
why you thought it was thiit one ? "

She answered, without a moment's hesitation,

" He has l!)een laid very much on my heait of late."

" And mine also. I expected this news. Miss

Erdley, you and I seem to have had very similar

experiences in some things."

She looked up at him. He knew she did not
undei-stand the drift of his words. Her lowly
reverent spirit clothed him with the sacredness of
his office. She would never have thought of com-
paring her sacrifice over anything with his.

His next word seemed far enough fi-om the last.

" There is something about you that reminds

me constantly of Mr. Cai-twright. I have heard

my sister speak of the reseniblance and I realize it

myself to-night." -,- ^^- '

llliii^lijBiiiiKe-' ■p•ii^'«ms!mmM*■

)ENELL, JR.

iW8. We had a letter

idiately ; lier spirit kin-
der, as he knew how, the
inning epiatle.
it contained the latest
intinued. He felt the
II as if her whole being

has been converted."
. " Which cue ? " she
tBalulu?" ;:

50 you know Stanton's
16 j-ftst of U8. Yes, it is
uldyou mind telling me
Hit one?" " V

a moment's hesitation,
uch on my heai't of late."
pectedthis neivs. Miss
o have had very similar

3."

He knew tthe did not
his words. Her lowly
m with the sacredness of
rer have thought of com-
nything with his.
[ar enough fi-om the last,
about you that reminds
i-twright. I have heard
jmblance and I realize it

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

287

" lam very glad if it may be possible," she said,
her voice echoing her words. " I should like to
resemble l.im. I love him very much," frankly.
" Not only because he is wortliy of love, but, partly,
I think, because he is the first young man I ever
met iu a social way, and talked with familiarly.
My life, as you know, is somewhat isolated, and it
was very delightful to live for awhile in such
companionship iis his and Olive's. He is so human
and so good I have wished sometimes he Avas my
brother. God will not count that sin, will lie ? "
questioningly, " since I would not make it so if
I could knowing it is not His will."

" Surely God will never condemn in you what is
so like Himself," answered Herbert. " Was it
not the yearning after more of the same kind of
love that His Only Begotten gave Him, that made
Him convert the red clod clay of the valley into sons
and daughtera of Adam, stamped with His own
image, able, like Himself, to give or withhold affec-
tion ? Fellowship, Love — freely and spontaneously
given — even God covets."

He felt her eyes in the dark. It was to her n
new thought.

" Then nothing ever comes to us," her voice low
and reverent, " not even this yearning for our
kind,that has not first come to Him ? "

" Nothing ever biitsin." The assurance thrilled
his own heart as he spoke.

" Then whatever we find in ourselves that we can
trace back to Him is innocent, is sinless," making

i,iM:i.ifi'iiiiriiliiiiitiiilMili

^gmiiami

238

UERBERT OAlWENJiLL, JR.

<,)[

'!-.,

f;l:.

ready application of liia words. " I nm glad you
have said tliis to me, Mr. Gardenell. It makes
creation such a beautiful thing. Ho created us—
nic— to satisfy His heart. Not His will only but
His love spoke us into being."

" Are they not one ? " he queried gently.
" Yes, they must be, but we do not of ten realize
them as such. The fall so quickly succeeds cre-
ation that we are apt to think, if not to speak of
ourselves as creatures of chance or despotisim—
tolerated not loved — born to an unhappy heritage
of sin, against which, striving mightily, we may at
length win possible approbation, finally reward."
" You have not so learned Him ? "
" No, oh, no. I have found Him my heart's satis-
faction. 1 never much coveted approbation or re-
ward. I think I would rather at any time be the
naughty child taken to a mother's he.-irt forgiven,
than the good child merely approved."

Herbert understood her meaning. What a rev-
elation she had given of herself. Were not his
father and Olive right in their estimate of this
woman ? He kept silent, unansweringher, hoping
she would say more.

" Mr. Gardenell," very timidly, " you are the
only person outside of our old doctor, who knows the
secret of my home life. I should have starved
without God," her voice sinking to a whisper.
He pressed her hand sympathetically.
" You must not commiserate me," she said. " I
do not need commiseration. Indeed I do not," ear-

^ENELL, JR.

nls. " I Sim glad you
Gardenell. It makes
ing. Ho created us —
Not His will only but

queried gently,
wo do not of ten realise

quickly succeeds cre-
ink, if not to speak of
lance or despotisim —
» an unhappy heritage
ig mightily, we may at
tion, finally reward."
I Him?"

I Him my heart's satis-
ted approbation or re-
ler at any time be the
)tlier'8 henrt forgiven,
ipproved."

eaning. What a rev-
srself. Were not his
their estimate of this
answering her, hoping

imidly, " you are the

doctor, wlio knows the

should have starved

:ing to a whisper.

athetically.

to me," she said. " I

Indeed I do not," ear-

AN UNEJCrSUTHU MEETING.

nestly, " though I have said to you what I have.
I can hardly tell why I have said it unless it is
that I feared you might think I have missed too
nnicli. I have not and you must not think it. God
liiis more than made up to me all I have seemed
(<) lack, and I live glad-hearted."

She was very anxious he should believe it and
he did and assured her so.

" I could have trusted Mr. Cartwright under
every circumstance," she went on. " There were
times when I longed to take him to my mother's
side, tell him her need, ask for his help. I always
felt his pure, strong faith might lift her out of her
misery. But I could not. She would not let me.
For some reason God hrought you to her. And
that is why I am speaking of her to n\ght. I have
prayed lor her alone so many years without seem-
ing result, do you not think God sent you to her
.ind to me to help us both ? " , ,

Her voice faltered a little.

" He certainly brought me to you, very unex-
pectedly, Miss Erdley," answered Herbert, with a
tlirill in his heart and voice. " There must be a
purpose of love in it somewhere."

" Yes, and this is why I dare ask you to pray
with me for mother, because her need is so great
and because you know it." ,v

" I will join you,'* he said. " We will take the
promise for two who agree."

They had reached hei- door. She held out her
hand. " Thank you," she said simply. ; /^

mt,»im^iim-„m i»in.iiiiMi]r--ff"'-'' '■"''-"smiMi

240

UKRliEliT GAlthENELL, JR.

" Thank you," he answered, pressing th(3 little
palm. " Miss Erdley, when you pray for Olive
and Stanton, remember me."

" I always do," and she was gone. ' AffS^u

" I always do." The words made melody in his
heart for days. How much did he owe to h«r
prayers ? How much to other prayers of which he
had not yet heard ?

" Mother," said Herbert to that lady a day or two
after as she sat beside him, " I wish we might get
Miss Erdley out here for awhile to rest, she needs it."
" I wish we might, my son."
" I never realized how dreary, how barren a life
she lived until the other night when I shared with
her my umbrella. She said then — think of it,
mother 1— that Stanton was the only young man
she had ever met and talked with familiaily. She
was giving me a reason for so admiring him."

Mrs. Gardenell smiled. " I wish I was sure
young men were the only things her life lacked,"
she said.

" Must I weigh my words with you, mamma?"
asked the gentleman shaking his head reproach-
fully ; " you surely underatand my meaning."

" And disagree with your conclusions," was the

smiling reply. " Lee's life is neitlier dreary nor

barren. It is beautifully bright and cheery."

" The marvel of it ! " he replied. Yet you

are right. She is a rare person, mother."

" Very rare," assented the lady.

" And you will write to her?" i '

JKLL, JR.

1, pressing th(3 little
you pray for Olive

gone.
\ made melody in his

did he owe to h«r
• prayers of which he

hat lady a day or two

[ wish we might get

to rest, she needs it."

ry, how barren a life
; when I shared with
. then — think of it,
;he only young man
vith familiarly. She
admiring him."
' I wish I was sure
ings her life lacked,"

with you, mamma?"
g his head reproach-
id my meaning."
conclusions," was the
8 neitlier dreary nor
bright and cheery."
e replied. Yet you
3n. mother."
lady.

T?" - : ' *r

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

041

"Gladly. Only don't count on her coming. Wo
have tried liofore and always in vain."

A few days after Mra. Gardenell received an an-
swer to lier note of invitation. With many thanks
it was declined. Her mother was weaker tlian
usual and needed her constantly. If she improved
enough to make it possible Lenore would like to
spend a day with them before the summer ended.

Yensie handed the lett<^r to her son. He read
it carefully. ^ . .

. " Mother," he said, " this seems to lie a case
where t!»e Lord'u encomium cannot he earned or
even striven for. Here are sick and in prison and
we cannot ' come unto them. ' " A ' i~
" You have visited their home, my son ? "
" Once," he made answer, and she questioned no
further.

The next time Herbert went to tlie city he made
an attempt to see Mrs. Erdley. She refused to
meet him.
Lenore looked sadly troubled.
" She nevar receives company when she is her-
self," she explained. ^ v ->
Then of what use was it for him to attempt to
minister unto her? wondered the young man.
What help could he bring her wliile under the in-
fluence of this baleful narcotic ? His chances of
winning her to Christ were indeed small. He
pmyed the more eajnestly therefore for the inspir-
ation and guidance of the only one admitted freely
to her presence.

3:6: .-.,.;--■... , . - .

'tfT

242

UMUB J£liT QAHDENELL, JU.

V i

CHAPTER XXIV. ,

A CHAPTEU OF EVENTS.

And evermore, benoatli this outward sense ' "^
And tlirouglv the con-mon sequence of eventa,
He felt the guiding uaml of Providence.

— WUITTIEB.

Time sped on. vSunto.i lunvibered now, among
othar converts, not one or two but ten rhiistian
lyiys of those given over to his care. Many of
these were able to go out and ttill the story of the
Cross in the surrounding vilhiges.

Herbert liad his kind of ten also. All con-
secrated young men ready lo answer the command,
" Go ye into all the world and i)reacli tlie Gospel."
Wonderfully had God prospered his lal)OJ's and
answered that prayer breathed out of his deepest
agony, to multiply him tenfold if he must stay at
home— and send him, through othei-s he might
prepare, to every corner of the glolw. Africa,
China, India, Japan, yea, Corea and South
, America, were all represented in this choice group ;
every member of which was a picked man, able
to do the highes. kind of work ; strong, physically,
mentally, spiritually.

VEIL, J a.

A VtlAPTKIt OF EVENTS.

243

> ■■ >,

XIV.

EVENTS.

uiitward sense
equeiico of events,
Providence.

— WUITTIEB.

luvi'oered now, among
wo but ten Thiistian
1 his care. Many of
1 ttill the story of the
ages.

ten al-io. All con-
answer the command,
id i)reucli the Gospel."
pered his lal)OJ's and
ed out of his deepest
)ld if he must stay at
ugh others he might
if the glolm. Africa,
I, Corea and South
i in this choice group ;
IS a picked man, able
rk ; strong, physically.

Among th^m waj Tom Buiion, the fruit of that
sorrowful journey westward with Ids dead love.
Another was RolKjrt Lang'more, the soul garnrrt'd
from the fii-st sermon he preached in his father's
pulpit. The othei'S were mostly young men fnmi liis
own clnnch and Sunday school, each with ». soul-
history known to their pastor, each re8i)eeted and
beloved in the community.

Harry Gardenell had completed his college
couwe and was taking civil engineering. Eddie
was about to enter Dr. Germaine's oiRce as a
medical student. Both had decided to give them-
selves to the work of missions, each wi;s preparing
in his own way. Hariy's heart led him where it
naturally might amid Ida surroundings, to Africa ;
Eddie, still uncertain, waited for definit-e ordera.

Olive WS18 developing into the strongest hind of
a woman; brave and true, ready for every good
work however hard. She had never yet written
that word to Stiinton fc>r which he asked so long
ago, and he had never repeated his question. His
life and work however, in every way possible, had
been freely shared with hor. She knew his anx-
ieties and perplexities, felt acquainted with his
people, carried his boys to the Throne of Grace,
exulted over their salvation and growth.

Her visit to his home liad not beei,\ unfruitful.
It had been a great joy to him to know she was
there, to get from her a letter dated i.vora the old
farm. But ho was most glad when a letter from
his youngest brother, Ben, reached him.

24 1

UKUIIKRT GAIWKNKLL, JR.

r^i

" I say," luj wrote, " Ted and I owe you a fjrudge
for not telling us wliiitadiiiMyshe wsvm. It jiut iilxiut
took our breath when w -: ot Haw hen and isn't
she devoted to you and Africa 1 VVliy, she knows
as much alwut it all as you do youi-self, an«l loves
to talk it over. All you ever did or said and the
places you liked l)est aie \vhat interest her. She
Uikes her Bible and sewing and sits for hours in
the old tree where you used to study, and she's
forever after us boys to tell her more of your
pmnks and exploits.

" She's solid good too. You see she took it for
granted that Ted and I were Christians because
vou are, and she talked to as just as if we were.
"Wiisn't it awful, though? I was never in such a
fix in my life. We stood it just as long as wo
could and then we owned up. And what do you
suppose she did? Why, just cried like a baby. And
then she got her arms about us both and kissed
me and said, ' Stanton way off in Africa trying to
save the heathen, and his own brothers refusing
bis Chnst.'

"I tell you I felt bad. It looked mean—
' meaner 'n dirt,' as Samantha says— but I couldn't
8eeni to help it. Ted caved in fii-st and I followed,
and we mean business too. She's as happy as a
bird, chirping over us and reading to us and pray,
ing. Yes, its a fact, she prays with us every night.
Mother just adores her, and we fellows don't
come far from it. I wish she hadn't any other
home. Say, old fellow, Ted and I are wond(;iiiig
why you didn't take her off with you? We don't
think she'd have objected."

Was Stanton sorry, after the reading of that
letter, that he had come to Africa alone? Never.

immm

rKI.L, JR.

1 1 owo yoii a f?vu<lge
le wsvH. It jiMltilxiut
,t Hiiw hen rt»'*l i»'>'t
tl VVliy, hIio knows

youi-self, iiiifl loves
did or Hrtid and the

,t interest her. She

,nd sits for hours in

to study, nnd sho's

1 her more of your

u see she took it for
5 Christians becftuse

just as if we were,
wiis never in such a

just as long as wo
>. And what do you
•ied like a baby. And
us both and kissed
T in Africa trying to
vu brothers refusing

It looked mean —

says— but I couldn't

1 fii-st and I followed,

She's as happy as a

iding to us and pray,

s with us every night.

id we fellows don't

she hadn't any other

and I are wondering

vitli you? We don't

the reading of that
\f rica alone ? Never.

A CllAPTKIi OF EVXNTH.

246

Would ho have had these boys miss their spiritual
nioiherhood ? Not for worlds. His next letter to
Olive was the very essence of tender reverence.
She wept her fill over it.

♦' SonielKidy honors me," remarked Herbert look-
ing up from a reccnitly received letter from his
friend. "This is the third time Stanton has
icftsri-ed to something in my sermons, quoting
sentences from them. I wonder who is my re-
porter? " looking smilingly from his mother to his
sister.

" Not I," said Mis Gardenell, " I am guilt-

less." ,

" Not I," echoed Olive. " I haven't the ability.
It must be Lee."

"Leel Miss Erdley, do 3'ou mean?" in un-
Inmnded astonishment. " Where and when does
she hear nie preach ?"

" Why, Herbert Gardenell I is it possible you do
not know that Lee Erdley is a member of your
church? Such ignorance is reprehensible. Papa
baptized her when she lived with us ; she had been
waiting for the privilege for yeai-s."

" Which fact by no means answers my question,
Olive. She never attends church. At least I
have seen her but once."

His sister laughed. " She is as easily and as
natnmlly hidden as a violet or arbutus," she said.
" Nevertlieless she misses very few Sunday-morn-
ing sermons; she heard the tii-st you preached
as pastor and the last, two days since." , f

:s^*i^"i;^!«-iRV^v.S-:AKB^'J^^&^^

'i^

JIEKBERT OAHDESKLL, JR.

Still her brother Heuined unconvinced. ♦' It is in-
oroiliblo thiit she hIk.iiIiI uttond so regularly with-
out my knowledge."

" Not 80 incredible iw that she Hhonld carry awiiy
BO much of what you have said and iw you say it,"
WJW the laughing reply. " She mya your sermons
feeil her," slyly, as her brother'H face Hushed a
little, "and I hIiouUI think they might the way
she takes them in: I think she must be one of
nature's own sUmographei-s, she can carry whole
sermons in her brain and repeat without notes
whole paragra[)hs of anything she heaix or reads.
She heard Stanton the Sunday ho preached for
papa when manmia was sick, and she is constantly
referring to what he said at that time, in one way
or another. She must have fed on that too, I think,
for she certainly has repeated it all to me piece-
meal. I thought it quite wonderful myself, and
was very proud of him, and yet only a few of his
statements remained with mc."

" Are you sure Lee writes to Stanton ? "

" Reprizes her lettein next to his Bible, he wrote
me recently," said Olive. " What ought I to think
of that ? He addresses her, ' Dear sister Leo ' and
signs himself, ' Your brother Stanton.' "

" You do not seem to take it much to heart,
Princess."

" Indeed I do, and it does my heart good. I
know of only one thing that would delight my
heart more."

She looked up with meaning and met liis eyes.

EI.L, JR.

A CIlAPTEIi OF KrSNTH.

247

nviiicea. "Itiain-
l HO ii'gularly wilh-

10 hhonld carry awiiy
I iiiul iw you »>^y *t'"
HiiyH your Hermoiis
iev'« face flushed iv
Llicy uuf,'ht the way
bIio must be one of
iho cau carry whole
3I)ciit without notes
Hho heai-H or reada.
day he prcanhed for
imd she is constantly
hat time, in one way
d on that too, I think,
d it all to me pieco-
onderful myself, and
[yet only a few of his

to Stanton ? "

to his Bible, he wrote

^Vhat ought I to think

Dear sister Lee' and
Stanton.

e it much to heart,

my heart good. I
it would delight my

ng and met his eyes.

Tlmy wore so gravely sad, oven troubled, that she
dared not add anotliur wovd.

" Mamma," she cried, as he turned abruptly and
Itfft the room, 'Mnamma, will he nov»Tget over tlio
past? Must he always keep his heart in tlie
^(rave ? "

Her mother drew her close and took the flushed
elieeks iK'tween her hands.

"Ilia heart is not in any grave," she said. " It
is b>Mting strongly and bravely in his lx>som. My
little daughter over whom somo one I know has
exercised so mu(!h patience ought suiely to Ihj llio
last to grow impatient of another. Herbert's heart
and life are in the keeping of his Lord, we need
have no feai-s concerning them."

But IIeil)ert had grave feai-s for himself. There
li:id been a gentle confidence, a friendliness about
Lenore's greeting in their chance meetings since
that night at the mission, which, while it in no way
detracted from the modest deference she had ever
shown liim, yet assured him of her favor and es-
teem. And something witliin him sprang up to
greet every mention of her name.

And it troubled him, the outward moving of his
soul towards this maiden. It ought not so to be.
lie had loved once, and with him once ought to
bo forever. Ho struggled manfully and prayed
nmch, and at last tried to put her entirely from
liis thoughts. How was that possible when he
was pledged to meet her daily at the throne of God
to ask her mother's salvation ?

i'"«i'i iiTiii 1 11 1 fiifiitfrrf-^

248

IIERliERT GARDENELL, JR.

n''

*[)

lie went out of his sister's presence that morn-
ing to his stu(\y, to his knees. Into th« midst of
liis perplexity and distress crept the lines he had
hoiird her repeat that night for another's soothing.

" Leave it with Him
The lilies all do,
And they grow."

To be sure I Had he forgotten that the secret
of all overcoming was not struggle but abandon-
ment to Jesus Christ ? He laid this thing of which
he vfOR almost ashamed on the heart of his Lord,
and for the present, at least, was comforted.

Ray was coming home. The letter announcing
this fact hardly reached New York before he ap-
peared himself, and all tlie cheerful bustle of joy-
ous greetings and happy questionings began.
What a change it brought to the home, grown so
quiet of late, to have this merry gentleman with
his wife and bright-eyed baby making its echoes
ring with mirth and song.

He was sunburned and grown thin, his curly
hair " almost wool," as Herbert slyly suggested,
his whole appearance reminding one forcibly of
the colored boy who once sailed out of that harbor.
His brother smiled and then sighed over the
recollection.

" The fact is, Hcrv, I never recall that escapade
of mine without a sort of reverent awe. It is to
me a wonderful revelation of how surely God an-
Bwei-8 prayer. Had I not possessed, as I did, thank

.i.if

ENELL,JR.

I'a presence that niorn-
33. Into th« midst of
crept the lines he had
for another's soothing.

th Him
ill do,
y grow."

rgotten that the secret
struggle but abandon-
laid this thing of which

I the heart of his Lord,

t, was comforted.
The letter announcing

]"e\v York before he ap-

i cheerful bustle of joy-

y questionings began.

to the home, grown so

merry gentleman with

baby making its echoes

. grown thin, his curly
[erbert slyly suggested,
ninding one forcibly of
jailed out of that harbor,
d then sighed over the

ever recall that escapade
' reverent awe. It is to
1 of how surely (rod an-
possessed, as I did, thank

A CnAPTEB OF EVENTS.

249

find, a father and mother and brother who could
not be denied my salvation I fear I should have
drifted into eternity unshriven. I wn« so near it.
I shuddernow, sometimes, when I recall the strange
fancies that held me in that Border-land. It will
always be to me an argumetit, not only for the
I)ower of prayer, but also for the supernatui-al in
roligion. God may and undoubtedly does lead
many men naturally and quietly to Himself, to
others He has to open the very doors of the in-
visible. And He will if He must for the soul that
lias hptiii travs'.iled for must be born."

He drew his mother tenderly towards him and
kissed her as he spoke.

" Twice my mother if not thrice," he whispered.
" You at least underetand what Paul meant when
he wrote ' My little children for whom I travail in
birth again until Christ be formed in you."

Then Herbert told him of Robert Langmore's
experience. "Another illustration," exclaimed
Rny. " I suppose there are many such if we but
knew them, and that not among ignorant and
superstitious people only, but our Ijest ; those
brought up under the gospel sound, and used to
the voice of prayer."

250

HERBEUT GAUDENELL, JR.

II, M

iM I*

CHAPTER XXV.

MISS BUNCH. ' • •

" Should I wrong her gentle trust,

Serene, complete, *•

Wliat keenest loss forever must

My future meet.
We walk through ways wltl. danger fraught,

Of naught afraid,
In sweet exclwnge of inmost thought
My little maid.

— CoBA Stewabt Wiieeleb.

The old nursery was in requisition once more.
Not for baby but Ray, who took up his quarters
there, declaring it was just the place he needed for
a quiet hour of study and rest.

The room opposite to it became an extemporized
nursery, since it adjoined the chamber selected for
the young pair. To this spot, sacred to baby,
Herbert loved to repair, especially at her bedtime
when she lisped her prayers and repeated to her
mother little scraps from the history of her day.

His sister-in-law was to Heibertan ideal woman.
She had been such in her girlliood and was
especially so now as the pure wife and holy
mother. He loved to watch her with her not yet

,^ -.-^-^

■aV*. ^'^ i'^;^'#^

tENELL, JB.

MISS AUNCir.

251

, XXV.

NCH. ■ '

ntle trust,

■'I

!Ter must

B wit1. danger fraught,

nmost thought

OEA Stewabt Whekleb.

, requisition once more.
10 took up his quarters
t the place he needed for
rest.

became an extemporized
the chamber selected for
is spot, sacred to baby,
specially at her bedtime
jrers and repeated to her
the history of her day.
Heibertan ideal woman,
her girlhood and was
\e pure wife and holy
itch her with her not yet

four-year-old darling, the immediate pet and play-
tiling of the household.

Little Yensie Cartwright Gardenell was a thing
of beauty and a joy forever. "Miss Bunch," iier
fiither called her, " Birdie," her mother, " Sweet
liL'iirl;," came most naturally to her Uncle Herbert's
lips. She was ooon his devoted follower and
helper, spending houi-s in his study, riding on his
sliouldera over the house, accompanying him to
town, making herself generally companionable.

Ray was immensely delighted at the wonderful
devotion between niece and uncle, though he pre-
tended some distress, declaring himself forsaken
and obliged to resort for comfort to his mother and
sister. His offspring regardud him with troubled
eyes, and kissed hiiji regretfully while she reasoned
with thij unnatui-al jealousy.

" You know 1 love you, papa, just as much and
am your own little girl just the same," she said
soothingly. " But poor Uncle Herbert hasn't dot
iiany little baby at all, an' only wants to borrow nie
a little while."

" Oh, is that all ? why, I don't object to that,"
answered papa, apparently quite relieved, and just
restraining in time the joke over Herbert's bachelor-
liood that rose to his lips. He was tender over his
brother's sorrow.

" I'm willing to loan you if it's not forever,
Bunch."

" Oh, papa, you is so dood. An' p'raps I'll be
dood all er time now too, I 'spect I will," went on

ifea*.asfe3gsfta

252

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

this wheedle-wee much given to moralizing,
" 'cause Uncle Hervit's so dood I gness I'll catch
it."

She seemed much disconcerted at her father's
laughter. " Things does be catching, you said so,
papa," striking him with her little hand. " An-
an' I took er measles cause I was wiv er little
boy."

Hdr father hurried her to the door. " Run up
to uncle," he said, " run fast, I want it to catch
quickly," and then he turned back laughingly to
his mother.

She shook her head at him vainly. " She's a
chip of the old block," he said. " I named her for
you, hoping she might escape her paternal heritiige
and go back to you for her proclivities. She hivs
a fearful temper."

" You didn't know me, Ray, when I was the
trial of Aunt Sally Walton's life," answered his
mother.

" I heard her speak of it once Avhen I refused to
repeat my dose of the Shorter Catechism and she
locked me in the closet. I kicked the door off
its hinges and she called me my mother's child. I
was so indignant at what I considered an insult to
your memory, that I ran at her with both fists
crying, 'My niamniA if better than you.' 'So she
is ' she exclaimed laughing. If you turn out as well
as she has I'll be proud of you."

Mrs. Gardenell smiled. " Yet your little girl is
right, Raymond, when sho ( omplains that yon

pp.

i-' i

-•K'A--»if^v^'^jkii^s^'y^H^A^-'i-ki>^

given to moralizing,
dood I gi;ess I'll catch

ucerted at her father's
; catching, you said so,
ler little hand. " An-
36 I was wiv er little

the door. " Run up
xst, I want it to catch
led back laughingly to

him vainly. " She's a
aid. " I named her for
pe her paternal heritiige
r proclivities. She hiis

Ray, when I was the
I's life," answered his

once Avhen I refused to
ter Catechism and she

1 kicked the door off
8 my mother's child. I
considered an insult to
at her with both fists
;er than you.' 'So she

If you turn out as well
^ou.'''

" Yet your little girl is
( omplains that you

MISS BUNCH.

253

laugh at her. You ought not. She said nothing
that was not quite proper and to her reasoning
correct. I think even it may Iks correct to highest
roiuso.ii.MQ^. Why should not good as well as evil
be infectious?" ; v r .

" Oh, I have no doubt about that, mamma, it is
the way she says things that is funny. You re-
member liow Princess used to wheedle? Well,
Miss Bunch is just such another. I should like to'
bo behind the study door some day when she is hold-
ing forth to Herv. If that fellox. doesn't shako
his sides its because he has less sense of the ludi-
crous than I Jiave or more self-control."

And Ray Wivs not mistaken. It took all the power
of which Herbert was master at times to keep
his face straight under this baby's questionings.

" Uncle Hervit, will it make your thoughts lose
if I ask you just a little question ? "

"No, dear." . . v,-:- -v^.

" Well, Uncle Hervit, wh. '; makes er naughty
want to be naughty in us all er time an' we°not
want it to be?"

There was a question for the doctors. The
gentleman was puzzled how to answer.

" What kind of naughty does my sweetheart
mean ?"

"The '^err^«^<^on kind." j>!'^:'V , - ;

"'Terruption." Uncle studied the word a mo-
ment.

"How does the 'terruption kind act, darling?"
he inquired.

■I

iS^Y^r:)--^ ^siifi -y-:. ';'v>S^v;\>>v!3^aS

wifiiiffiUfT^^flifc^...

•*"■<(,.

254 HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

' « Oh, it wants to make min'ster's stop writing
sermons an take little dirls in their arms. Its
kinder tired, I dess."

Herbert smiled. " Oh, interruption ! That isn't
naughty, pet." lifting her to his knee.
■.: " But it's Hnier naughty, I s'pose," looking up
at him trustfully from eyes so like his mother's
though hedged with a tangle of golden curls.

" No, it isn't even a little naughty if it waits as
patiently as it can and then asks politely for atten-
tion." „ . ,
Uncle Hervit, I like 'tention-I like you, with

a Wg hug.

Another day he was attracted by a great sigh
from the little one at his feet. He stopped his
pen and smiled into the eyes watching his move-
ments so narrowly.

" Does you have to write all er time, Uncie

Hervit ? " ■'■■:-.■-''- r^^. ': . ' - . ' <.^ 'H- ^.m

"No, darling, not all the time."

"But you write more an' my papa do. He got
his sermon done awful quick."

" But uncle has magazines and papers to write
for as well as sermons. Does my sweetheart
understand?" lifting her to his lap and openinrr
first a paper and then a magazine for her inspec-
tion. She looked over the articles be pointed out
as carefully as if reading them.

"Is that what Aunt Olive does, too?" she

asked.

» Yes," he answered, smiling at the shrewdness

- 'Wr^'^i'^^s^-;>H'^.^>^'^'«^

■JSSm

OENELL, JR.

min'ster's stop writing
irk in their anns. Its

nterruption ! That isn't

bo his knee.

;y, Is'pose," looking up

es 80 like his mother's

jle of golden curls.

le naughty if it waits as

lu asks politely for atten-

jntion— I like you"mi\\

ttracted by a great sigh
8 feet. He stopped his
syes watching his move-

ivritb all er time, Uncle

\r, time."

an' my papa do. He got
uick."

zines and papers to write
. Does ray sweetheart
sr to his lap and openiiiff
magazine for her inspec-
he articles he pointed out
them.
Olive does, too?" she

miling at the shrewdness

MISS BUNCH.

265

of the child wlio had discovered bo readily what so
few of his sister's friends guer°ed.
" Is it Africa you write. Uncle Hervit ?"
" Sometimes. And sometimes other things."
" Jesus things ? to make peoples dood ? "
" Sometimes things to make people good, some-
times things to make people wise. Do you under-
stand the difference, darling? "

She shook her curly head. " Uncle Hervit, you
know most eberything, doesn't you ■? " she said,
admiringly. " You'se not er/r«<! man God made
cause you're not Adam, but you know most more'n
Adam did, don't you?"

" In some things, perhaps," answered the gentle-
man cautiously. " In other things not so much."
" What more things does you know ? "
He smiled. "Adam did not know so much
alx)ut our Saviour, pet. Jesus had not been born
or crucified for us then."

" I know about Jesus," proudly.
" Yes, even a little child now may be wiser in
some things than the wisest man of those days."
" Not Sol'mon ? " with wide open-eyes,
" Yes, wiser even than Solomon, darling."
" My papa say you is a very wise man. Uncle
Hervit, an' Sol'mon was very wise man, but he
make some mistakps an' so does you. But you
doesn't, does you?" with utmost confidence.
" Cause you doesn't wart nany wifes an' babies
for yourse'f ; courae you don't, when you has my
mower an' me ! " with a hug. " But I know

-.•»'«ifefS!i'riti'-,

•*^

jg|| IIFAtnKRT GARDKNELL, JH.

Sol'mon. He was the most wisest an' c.
iinnerwisest man in er wb.ol'' world ■ivtr."

Surely Ray was not the wisest, Herbert conchul; .1
ai» he looked into the little face so gravely puz". l
and kissed the sweet lips before replying.

"My little swt^^^^artnmdu.icit tiviuble her heal
C'/er 8ucl. matters. God doesn't want her to be
very wise yet."

"Not till my hair grows?" asked the child
solemnly. What could she mean ?

" I do not understixiid you, darling."

" No, I doan unnerstan' pupa eiver, an' hi"! say
vmt till my hair grow."

Herbert smiled; that was so like his brother.
" Papa only meant to say his little girl could not
understand until she giew older. You know your
hair grows a little every month," he explained.

Her intelligent e3'e8 showed she was foil -wing
him. " But perhaps I can explain it a little to
you, dear. Solomon was wise because God told
him so many things other men did not know."

« An' unnerwise ? " inteiTupted the eager child-
voice.

• And unwise because he did not act as he knew
God wished. I am not sure you will understand
me, darling, but it is wisdom to know the will of
God K.id unwisdom not to do it."

" You do it, doan you, Uncle Hervit ? " con-
fidervtly looking into his face.
" I try, pet."
'' I try too," she said cdmpladently, " an' seme.

!5i!s^»j^^.^fet4* w ^ '';EL„*sic t,^ '5^'

■«f««l"^p><

'Mi

^NELL, JR.

,<■, wisest an' er nr

• world liVf r."

est, Herbert concliul^ 1

nee so gravely puz".! d

fore replying.

i'tiAVo trouble her heu'l

oesn't want her to be

-s?" asked the child

mean ?

I, darling."

pupa eiver, an' hi"! say

is 80 like his brother,
lis little girl could not
ilder. You know your
nth," he explained,
wed she wa** foil -nring
, explain it a little to
vise because God told
len did not know."
rupted the eager child-
did not act as he knew
e you will understand
)m to know the will of
lo it."

Uncle Hervit?" con-
5e.

mpladently, "an'sdme.

stt88 arircff. 0jf

times I docs it, but sometimes I don't" with a
si^ii.

It wius only a few cap after when her father
found her in the I'pper hall with n very cloudy face.
What ha., gone wrong, Bunch?" he stopped to
ir live. v

"ilf«ha.sI"dolef(rtly.

"That's nothing new, come tell papa what has
happened?"

" I'se gone and been like Sol'mon, papa."

Only his mother's appearance at this crisis and
her warning look kept Ray's countenance steady.

" How has my baby been li'^e Solomon ? " askerl
grandma, drawing the child to her arms.

"I know mamma didn't want mo to, anr i
did," whispered the little omj slowly.

" You have been disobedient ? is that it, Buk '
How does that make you like Solomon ? " a^. 'i
her father, considerably in the dark. a, ,

" Oh, 'cause he knew and he didn't eiver," sighed
the child.

" Grandma doesn't understand," said Mra. Gar-
denell gently; "won't my little Yensie tell me
what she means ? "

" Why, grandma, don't you know? Uncle Hervit
'splained it to me, Sol'mon was wise 'cause he
knew what God w{<,nt, an' unnerwise 'cause he
didn't do it"

" Uncle Herbert must look out or he'll be mak-
ing a theologian of you, Bunch," said her father
solemnly.

»iiiE*.««i.v-'.^Mil^aiii;4te'^^&t«. ''^■■'^■^'-■i'^~^-Vif^r\'^ttMii

258

HERBERT OARDKNELL, .TR.

" The— ole-goshen isa't anysing bad, is it,
papa?'* cried the child. " Uncle Hervit wouldn't
make me anysing bad, he's bo good ? "

" He's the best man in the world," answered hor
father reassuringly. " But I fear my little daugh-
ter hasn't improved much yet by his society
according to her own confession."

And he left his mother to deal with the small
culprit while he went to join his wife aud brother
in making some necessary calls.

«" ''

1 . .

ve i

fe' .Mitw'nV-^-i-Kfikfo w •■ •^airiiiSSi'W

THE BEST MAN IN THE WORLD.

268

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE BEST MAN IN THE WORLD.

" Write it on your tieart that every day is tlie beat day in

the year."— EuBUSON.

-?■ ' ■■.'■'
" And tilings can never go badly wrong,
If the heart be true and tlie love be strong ;
For the mist if it comes, and the weepini; rain.
Will bj changed by the love into sunshine ajain.''

Miss Bunch had a new thought in her little
noddle, her father had put it there. She kept it
to heraelf as long as it was possilUe, then it
blossomed into speech. She was in the study Jis
usual, and at Herbert's feet, her dolly in her lap.

" You must be very still, Daisy," she said, lid-
dressing her waxen darling, '* 'cause Uncle Hervit
doesn't like to be 'tenupted an' it udbe a Sol'mon
to 'terrupt him, only you can aiffh if you're very
tired," the little speaker here drawing a dismal
breath.

The gentleman kept his face steady by effort
and went on with his writing as if he had not
heard.

" Uncle Hervit isn't like Adam," continued the
tiny lady still addressing her doll, "caud Adam

260

HERBERT OARDBifKLL, JB,

kl*Z

ho was naughty an' ttealed, and had to he turned
out'u er garden, my papa said so. An' he's not
nice Sornum," scornfully, " caudSol'mon wouldn't
do the wise he know an' our uncle always does.
No," with great satisfaction, "Uncle Hervit never
does anything wrong, he's the best man in the
world 1"

This was too nmch for the listener. Such devo-
tion deserved reward. lie threw aside his {yen and
suddenly lifted her to the ceiling and buck again
to her great delight. " On'y I might have
dropped Daisy," she observed, an' of course I
wouldn't like to hurt her. She's good, awful good,
. y she can't talk. I like peoples that talk, Uncle
Hervit, an' as don't has t(> write all er time."

" I like peoples that can talk loo," said uncle,
tossing her in the air like a ball ui.d catching her
again; " little peoples just about lus big as sweet-
heiirt Gardenell."

« An' you wouldn't like to make the ole-goshen
outen your sweetheart would you, nunkey?"
she cried, claspinghis neck with hei- dimpled arms.
" I'm not sure I know what the old Goshen is,"
he laughed. " But I deny any deaire to make you
even a day older than you are, blossom," throwing
her up to the ceiling again.

" There," she said radiantly, as she caught her
breath, " wait till I see papa 1 He said it himself :
' Yov must look out or you'd make the old-goshen
of me.' I knew you wouldn't if it was horrid, an'
^eve isn't no place to look out only er windows,

♦r*'

mmmmmtmmK

■UN

' ' p w...

'NKLL,JR.

mid liad to be turned
,id 80. An' Iio'b not
aud Sol'mon wouUhrt
,r uncle always does.
"Undo Uory'ii never
the bust man in the

I listener. Such devo-
iu-ew niside his yten and
eiling and back again
On'y I might have
ved, an' of course I
ihe's good, awful good,
ioples that talk, Uncle
•rite all er time."
talk loo," said uncle,
ball ui.d catching her
tbout as big as sweet-

;o make the ole-goshen
ould you, nunkey?"
with hei- dimpled arms,
at the old Goshen is,"
iny deaire to make you
re, blossom," throwing

tly, as she caught her
, I He said it himself :
'd make the old-goshen
ii't if it was horrid, an'
: out only er windows,

TUB niCST MAN IN TUX WORLD.

261

an' there's no olegosljon tiumi, is there, I'nde
Ilorvit ? You i« tlie best man in the world, iw»V
you, darling ? "

♦* Uncle Ilervit," was a modest man. He re-
turned her hugs witii interest but denied tlie
chargp. ♦' My little aioca thinksHo Injcausoshe loves
me," he said, pariying tlm «iuestion.

" But my j)apa say so. Is it caud ho lovos you
too, nunkey ? "

" Yes, darling, I think it must Ikj."

" And ain't you trulif t " asked the little faiiy,
quite crest-fallen and ready for teans. "Oh, I
fought you was I "

" I try to be the best I can, darling, and God
looks at the try in my heart and not at my failure.
It is possible He may count me good," said uncle
comfortingly.

" I has a try in my heart, uuukey, doea God sea
that?"

" Yes, indeed."

"An* is Himdlad?"

" Very glad."

" An' won't Him look at the naughty at all, only
er try ? "

" He see's both," replied Herbert. " But if He
sees the try is big and honest, darling, I know He
will forgive the naughty ; and if you ask Him
He will keep you from being naughty."

"I do ask when I don't fordet," she whis-
pered, kissing over and over i^ain the lips
tliat had spoken such good news. " An' I'm not

'^S^i

:'d}^»ni&

"^v..

262

HERBERT OARDENELL, JR.

t ' 4i

goin' to fordet nany more, an' my papa'll l)e s'prised
cause I is so dood an' he won't laugh 'bout its beiri'
catchin.' It does catch, doesn't it, Uncle Hervit—
your dood ? "

And oh, how uncle laughed and smothered her
with kisses! So the frolic began. Back and forth
and up and down the study they chased each
other. On hands and knees went the young
minister .o play hoi-se with the tiny lady perched
on his back, her fingers holding on byhdiair, her
cliildish voice falling in peals of laughter. Finally,
flushed, breathless with triumph, high up on iiis
shouldei-s, she was carried to the rooms below to
find the family. From one room to another they
galloped, but not a glimpse of any one could
be found. They trotted to the kitchen and horae
and rider each indulged in a fresh doughnut from
Jane's dish. They visited the conservatory and
the young lady thrust a pink in her own little
bosom and one behind each ear of her faithful
steed. As they approached the back parlor they
heard the sound of voices — home voices. Neither
of them had heard the bell ring, — which was not
such a wonder considering the racket they had
been in — it was morning, moreover, and of course
no time for company. So in they pranced with
a flourish. The charger, in dressing-gown and
slippers. Just then, under the pressure of the
rein, which by-the-bye was a lock of hia own hair —
he drew up suddenly and stopped before — Miss
Erdley.

NELL, JR.

my papa'll l)e s'prised
't laugh 'bt)ut its beiri'
n't it, Uncle Hervit—

ed and smothered lier
3gan. Back and forth
dy they chased each
563 went the young

the tiny lady perched
ling on by h ; hair, her
J of laughter. Finally,
umph, high up on his
to the rooms below to
I room to another they
jse of any one could
» the kitchen and horae
a fresh doughnut from

the conservatory and

pink in her own little

ch ear of her faithful

the back parlor they

■home voicea. Neither

ring, — which was not

[g the racket they had

loreover, and of course
in they pranced with

in dressing-gown and

ir the pressure of thi3
lock of his own hair -
stopped before— Miss

THE BEST MAN IN THE WORLD.

263

Herbert felt the little shock that went over her
as with flushed face and disordered hair, holding
on to his little niece with one hand, he extended
to lier tho other. His blue eyes were brimful of
merriment, his voice shook with it, srs conscious
was he of the almost horror of the lady in view of
the liberties this baby had taken with the person
of the minister. She had known Stanton as a
happy, rollicking, natural young man, himself only
aa a religious teacher, a preacher. Which would
she prefer, pulpit, onitor, or man ? Would loss of
dignity detract from his value ? He was man
enough to be interested in the pioblem, to bo
amused over its funny side.

He drew baby from his shoulder to his knee,
and while she took his face between her hands and
walked all over him. attempted to talk to the vis-
itor. The young iady tried to bo poiite, to ignore
the situation, and as the convcrsat'on became gen-
eral, listened attentively to Raymond, who showed
unmistakable signs of admiration for this friend of
his sisters. But Herbert waa conscious that her
eyes kept coming back to his face almost curiously,
and meeting them once with a frank smile he le-
ceived one quite hs frank in reply.

Somehow the frolic had wakened the boy in
him. He had not felt so ready for fun in two
years. It was as if the weight of care, the burden
that had lately oppressed him, slipped off and left
him free. He made a charming conversationalist
in such a mood. Ray crossed swords with him to

" A'^ii,

h'if^» '■■ '^i^^y^/:

■7!*-y,

234

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

be defeated. There was no resisting the good
fellowship of the atmosphere. Lee was curried off
captive to the luuch'jrooia ; Olive gliully reiuoying
her wrap and liat. ., ■ .i'S'.^vK'''. .-■> ..;.> '-^^^Xjii;

Seldom has a meirier meal been eaten, or by a
gayer company. Olive exchanged glances with
mamma when Herl)ert, with dress rean-anged and
hair freshly brushed, but with the iiuliance of his
face undisturbed, took his seat at the table. She
felt almost content. Harry and Eddie were both
at home, papa and Stanton only missing. If —
that little word kept Olive's cup from running
over. ■'•,'':;ii'-

"I want to sit by Unole Ilervit," cried Miss
Bunch, allowed on this oect^ion to eat with her
elder's. And the booor@d g«i)tleijaau lifted her
chair to his side. ^ ; , : i :;^'i

" Papa, what made you say Uncle Hervit is the
best man in the world ? '* suddenly burst forth
Raymond's little daughter in the midst oi the
meal, her spoon half-way to her mouth. i.;

"I certainly thought so," answered Mr. Car-
denell cautiously, UHed to his baby's tactics and
properly on his guard.

" He says he isn't, and he knows," was the
triumphant response, as tho contents of the spoon
disappeared.

''Simplicity thou art a child," laughed Bay-
mond, looking at his brother. " Ladies, I beg to
explain. My little daugliter is logically inclined,
And having heard me make some comment on her

mhL, JR.

THE BEST MAN IN THE WORLD.

265

i-esisting the good

Lee was cumed off

live gladly removing

been eaten, or by a
lauged glances with
diess reanunged and
I the mdiance of his
At at the table. She
ind Eddie were both

only uiissing. If —
s cup from running

Ilervit," cried Miss
laion to eat with her
gentleman lifted her

r Uncle Hervit is the
suddenly burst forth
in the mi(M of the
ler mouth.

' answered Mr. Car-
is baby's tactics and

he knows," was the
contents of the spoon

jhikl," laughed Bay-
it. " Ladies, I beg to
• is logically inclirsed,
jome comment on her

uncle's worth she immediately interviews him on
tlie subject and concludes, quite philosophically
too, that knowing himself better than I do, and
being himself, and therefore unable to deceive, I
must have been misuken in my premises."

Miss Ei*dley just then meeting the i-oguish eyes
of the subject of all these remarks laughed as he
begged her sympathy and patted his niece's curly
head.

" Good people do not always know they are
good, Yensie," said grandma, taking pity on the
perplexed little face.

Don't they ? Hum I " with a little sniff of con-
tempt for such ignorance. " I always does when
I'se dood."

In the laugh which followed Herbert succeeded
in calling the child's attention to her plate.

The after-lunch talk wa. quieter if no less
bright. The little one fell asleep in her uncle's
arms, and was carried by him to bed, Gatty follow-
ing. He came l)ack to the parlor presently, the
same light on lip and brow. There was a i'ascina-
tion about his glatlness that was infectious.

The afternoon was advancing when the party
broke up, Lee insisting that she must go home.
Herbert joined her at the door with coat and hat.

" I am going your way. Miss Erdley," he said.
"• And will trouble you with my company if you
don't object."

And as they started down the street together
Olive's eyes again met her mother's.

*.A

'M^WWaqjffilJri^CJRIIgl^NDitinH^

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

" I want to inquire concerning your mother,
Mias Erdley," said the gentleman presently.

" She is no better. I think she is even a little
weaker physically, otherwise there is no change.
Sometiraeb I almost despair, but that is not natural
to me, and then the pendulum swings the other
way. But there ic veally no reason for hope."

" Except," he said. ?^^:

" Except," she assented, meeting his eyes. 'A

They parted before she reached her destination,
he going one way, she another. He )' ;d no reason
to urge for accompanying her further. She almost
feared, but did at last glance backward once. It
was to find him also looking after her, the same
bright smile illuming his face.

She was glad she had seen him thus, knew both
sides of his nature. The sweet, strong, uplifted,
almost supernatural. The pure, bright, unaffected
natural. Were they not perfect halves of a whole ?
Her undefiled womanhood went out oo do rever-
ence to this undefiled manhood. In home and
church alike able to bear the most rigid scrutiny,
able to lift an unblemished front.

God give America tens of thousands of such —
pure women, holy men 1 These are the bulwarks
of a liation ; she needs nothing else to insure her
safety, her perpetuation 1

" Herbert," said Olive that night, " it is delight-
ful to see you your olden self. Your face still
shines."

>feU'>

-..tii'v,.a._i,ii,ts.

^NELL, JB,

TUE BEST MAN IN THE WOBLD.

267

jerning your mother,
iman presently.
: she is even a little
3 there is no change,
but that is not natural
.um swings the other
reason for hope."

iieeting his eyes,
iched her destination,
er. He 1 ;d no reason
r further. She almost
!e backward once. It
ig after her, the same
je.

n him thus, knew both
veet, strong, uplifted,
)ure, bright, unaffected
•feet halves of a whole ?
went out oo do rever-
ihood. In home and
lie most rigid scrutiny,
front.

f thousands of such —
'heso are the bulwarks
bing else to insure her

at night, " it is delight-
i self. Your face still

" Somehow I seem to have struck a higher strata
of air," he laughed, " it is full of exhilaration."

"And Lee likes }'ou so," c^nanued his sister, in
a tone which reached ita^'s puij though her words
did not, fo'* hr, vvas sif-ing in the window and she
was pauing up and down the ven.nda with Herbert.

" Look out, Herv," he cried. " It's time to put
up a danger signal. Olive is wheedling."

" I'm doing nothing of the sort," she retorted,
"am I, Hervie?" holding his arm close and look-
ing into his face. " Buu didn't she look divine in
that old-fashianed ifilk ? She does her own dress-
making — think of it ! — and always has things so
becoming, so in mode, yet never extreme."

" You would hardly expect Miss Erdley to be
extreme in anything," said Herbert, lest his sister
be vexed with his quiet. ^ ^

" Except her goodness and the texture of her
dresses. They must have been very wealthy some
time, for she never has anything common or quite
new. Now, honest, Herbert, did you ever see any-
thing prettier than her dress to-day?"

" Honest," answered her brother laughingly, " I
did not notice a thing she wore.''

" Oh, Hervie ! " groaned his sister, " if I had
worn anything so pretty you would have com-
plimented me."

" Because you are mine," he answered. " That
is nothing strange."

" I think it is strange you should not admire the
admirable." »

i^^WiWS^^^WWBSWKRav^"

,1*^',/

W'-

268

HERhERT GARLUNELL, JR.

^?*i.-

" I do admire Miss Erdley very much." '

" When will ynu get over calling her Miss
Erdley, and adopt C'lr name for her?" she cried
in chagrin. " Herbert, I wish you would be good
and admit the truth. Honest, truly, can't you see
her just as she looked this afternoon when she
laughed at Bunch?"

" I certaini can recall just how she looked,"
he smiled. " But not a thing concerning her dress
except that it was dark and soft and clinging."

Olive clapped her hands. " She never wears any-
thing that is not soft and clinging as if it loved
her. Herbert," whispering, "I wish you loved
her."

" I love you," he said, stooping to kiss her.
•' That ought to satisfy you, Princess," and there
was an undertone of pain in his voice.

" Herbert," she said, " please let me say what is
in my heart. Papa was talking to me once about
mamma before she married him, and it surprised me.
I had never thought of them apart. And I said,
' Papa, I thought mamma always belonged to you,'
and he answered me — listen, Herbert — ' She did,
but I didn't find it out (or yeare.' Herbert" — her
voice falling ver^ low, " I always think of i\is
words when I see you and Lee together — you be-
long to each other and have not found it out."

He did not answer her. He simply unlinked
her hand from his arm, pushed her gently yet
sternly one side, and went in, leaving her alone.

There was a timid rap at the study door at bed-

INSLL, JR.

THE BKST MAN IN THE WORLD.

200

very much."
irer oHlling her Miss

for her ? " she cried
ih you would be good
it, truly, can't you see
} afternoon when she

ast how she looked,"
g concerning her dress
soft and clinging."
" She never weaiw any-
lihging as if it loved
"I wish you loved

time. Herbert rose and opened it and looked
down into the wistful face lifted to hia.

"I'm so soiTy. Forgive me for spoiling your
beautiful day. I will never mention her name to
you agfain," she said.

" Never? " he questioned gently. " That is too
far-off a day for my little sister to reckon about ;
you will forget. But don't cry or grieve, darling.
I assure you I do not love you less because 3'ou
love Lee so much." Then he kissed her and led
her to her chamber door.

stooping to kiss her.
, Princess," and there
his voice.

ase let me say what is
cing to me once about
m, and it surprised me.
m apart. And I said,
vnys belonged to you,'
I, Herbert — 'She did,
■eare.' Herbert" — her
always think of i\is
jee together — you be-
not found it out."
He simply unlinked
ashed her gently yet
1, leaving her alone,
the study door at bed-

t, '*'

i(f3%-i-:\' '

BERBEBT OARDENMLL, JM,

CHAPTER XXVII.

A RBVrXATION. ' ■:

"We sit down to reckon up the darkness . . . .^. We
ought rather to count tlie stars Thou hast set therein.'
" God must grow Into the empty pla( ea of life."

IlAYMONn Gardenell had come home to his
native lan(J for a purpose, just as he had hjft it for
a puipose, .iiid the purposes were one : The exten-
sion and strengtliening of our Mivster's kingdom
on the American continent.

To this end, after a short rsst, he was expected to
travel up and down the hvnd telling the things he had
seen and heard, presenting the needs of the country
and thb work in which he was interested, rousing
Christians to the necessity and privilege of im-
mediate co-operation in its behalf.

He had many long conferences with his brother,
who was nearly rnt well acquainted with the
facts as himself, ccncorning the best methods
of promoting his object. They were hand and
glove in the enterprise.

Raymond had become enamored of the land of
his sojourn, and was determined to offer himself
as a missionary to South America as soon as he

WELL, Jtt,

A REVELATION.

271

XXVII.

TION.

he darkness We

Du hast set therein."
pla( ca of life."

md rome home to his

list as he had h)ft it for

were oiio : The exten-

our Master's kingdom

rest, he was expected to

telling the things he had

the needs of the country

was interested, rousing

r and privilege of im-

behalf.

rences with his brother,

acquainted with the
ling the best methods

They were hand and

snamored of the land of
irmined to offer himaelf
America as soon as he

should have accomplished the task set him. His
descriptions of the country and people, and their
tioinendous need had taken strong liold on his
youngest brother's heart, and Eddie began to in-
quire if God would not have him go back with
Kiiyuiond when he should be ready to return.

Gatty accompanied her husband as far as Maine,
where, after a short stay, he left lier to finish the
long visit looked forward to for months, with her
mother and brothere. A great vacuum seemed
opened among those they had left. Life appeared
very prosaic, Olive declared, with no bab' to tease,
and no brother t(. tease her, and nothing but com-
mon, very-day wcrk.

" But common, every-day prose is the staple of
life and poetry only its pastime," Herbeit re-
minded her, A remark which his mother chal-
lenged.

" Every true life is a poem, " she said, " where
commas and colons, exclamations and interro-
gations abound, with periods more or less frequent.
But whose staple after all is neither of these, but
beautiful stretches of imagery, reality, and
thought : with wondrous revelations of truth and
love and glimpses of a glory ready to be revealed.
The final period being only the taking of breath
before the opening of the next and sublimer
canto."

There had always been a vbry close friendship
between the Germaines and Gardenells. The doc-
tor had never forgotten the debt his young life

272

HERBERT OABDENELL, JR.

owed Mm. Gardenell— then MIhs Walton— and
from the hour his paHtor brought her to his hoiius
hia bricUn his heart and sympathies and purse had
been at their disposal. v . ;

The children of the two honses had been com-
panions and playfellows from ^=rth. Dr. Ger-
maine being specially fond of roadie, who was
about the ago his Horace would have been had he
not died in infancy.

Olive was a year or two older than Grace, but
they were fast friends, especially so since Grace
had promised to l)o Tom Burton's wife, and follow
him to the mission field, for Olive would always
hold those nearest who had given their lives as
bad her lover, to the Foreign work.

Olive had been calling on Griv e this morning ;
they had been exchanging conhdences as girls
will. She had left her friend busy in her own
room, and run down to let hei-self out of the front
door, when Mrs. Germaiue appeared with a ques-
tion. ^^
"Have you heard fw n Stanton recently?'
■r "Nothing since the tidings of fever at the
station reached us," answered the girl, her face
telling the story of her fears.

" Olive," said the usually gentle little lady, " if
anything happens to Stanton, you will never for-
give yourself. How could you let him go away as
you did, dear, when you owed him so much— your

mother's very life ? "

Two blue eyes flashed up to hei-s in questioning.

TELL, Jli.

W\m Walton — ami
jlit lier to his homo,
ithies and purse had

mses had been c«»m-
)m ^Ttli. Dr. Ger-
of roadie, who was
Id have been had he

der than Grace, but
lially so Bince Grace
;ou's wife, and follow
Olive would always
given their lives as
work.

Grn e this morning;

conhdences iws girls

nd busy in lier own

Bi-self out of the front

ppeared with a ques-

,nton recently?"

ng8 of fever at the

ed the girl, her face

gentle little lady, " if
1, you will never for-
ou let him go away as
id him so much — your

to hei-a in questioning.

A REVELATION,

978

" I ought not to have mentioned this," said the
huly, " hut it has Ixjen in my thoughts all the
nioiiiing, and was sure to leak out without care.
I think you ought to know, however, that it was
l)y the tninsfusion of Stanton Cartwright's blood
into your uiother's veins that her life was spared."

There was a little rustle, and both ladies looked
up to find Dr. Germaine standing near listening.

" Horace, I fear I shall lose my reputation ft)r
prudence," said his wife, " but the secret slipped
out unawares."

•' And none too soon," answered her husband.
" I wish now I had told it long ago. Olive, I am
disappointed in you. I never thought yon would
let Stanton go away without hope, and wlien
you did I supposed it was a whim of which you
would soon weary. But I begin to think you hard-
hearted. I venture now you have not had the
grace to write him a single word of love in all
these four years."

The delicate face flushed, the eyes and lips
quivered. *

"A woman is not a man, Horace," the little
woman suggested gently. " She finds it hard to
unveil her heart when urged, well-nigh impossible
to anything but urgency."

" Nonsense," answered the gentleman, but not
unkindly. " If ycu defend this bit of baggage,
Esther, I shall consider it proper cause for divorce.
What more urging does Olive require ? Is Stan-
ton Cartwright a baby doll to change liis mind?

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274 HERBERT GARDENELL, jn.

Is not hi3 question still awaiting an answer?
Who doubts whether he n.eant it? Not Olive I'll
be bound. I tell you it is neither politeness or
modesty to withhold bread from a starving man,
because he does not tease for it. Why, Olive, what
would you think of my Ruth if she served your
brother Harry after such a fashion ? I'd like to
have her try it." ^^ ,

" Somebody is taking my name in vain, cried a

brightrfaced young girl coming over the front steps

with a flash, for she had heard another's name

also. " What are you saying about me, papa ? "

"Nothing very dreadful. Puss," pinching her

cheek. , ^ » a

"You are quite right Horace— doctor, saia

Olive humbly, and with flaming cheeks.

He stooped and kissed her, putting out a hand
to draw her close, but she evaded it, rushing out of
the door and down the street as if pursued.

" Why, Papa Germaine, what were you saying to
grieve her so ? There were teara in her eyes. It's
a good thing Grace did not see them ; she adores
Olive and is no end jealous of Lee Erdley."

" I repent," said the gentleman smiling. " Her
'Horace— doctor' is always too much for me, it
brings back her babyhood. Do you remember,
Esther, how she used to sit on my knee when we
were fii-st married. She was such a wee fairy. She
never could understand why she might not call
me Horace, since her mother did so ; she got up the
little compromise herself, and added the ' doctor.

■oPMNWIHPpn*"

I, jn.

ing an answer?
? Not Olive I'll
ler politeness or
, a starving man,
Why, Olive, what
she served your
on? I'd like to

) in vain," cried a
irer the front steps
I another's name
)ut me, papa ? "
js," pinching her

ce — doctor," said
cheeks.

utting out a hand
i it, rushing out of
if pursued,
were you saying to
s in her eyes. It's
them ; she adores
.ee Erdley."
,n smiling. " Her
much for me, it
)o you remember,
my knee when we
ch a wee fairy. She
}he might not call
J so ; she got up the
dded the ' doctor.' "

A REVELATION.

276

" She calls mamma ' Aunt Esther.' "

" Your mother is responsible for that," replied
the doctor. She taught her. Poor baby, she wrjs
too young and too near and dear to us both, to
address us as cold Mr. and Mra. Germaine, so your
mother coined a relationship. She's a charming
little girl-woman, if she has treated Stanton Cart-
wright shamefully."

" We must hope it has been a blessing to him, it
undoubtedly has to her," said Mra. Germaine, turn-
ing the best side up, as was l»er habit. " It is won-
derful how she has developed of late. Some day,
when she is his wife, he may hiive reason to bless
God for tlie delay that ripened her soul."

" You seem to be quite sure of the end, Esther."

"Are not you?"

*♦ Perhaps, but not exactly of the same end. I
am too well acquainted with African fever."

She turned and looked at him out of her gentle
eyes —

'*Be^not faithless, but believing," she said.

Meanwhile Olive had hurried home, as if life and
death depended on her haste. She rushed into her
motlier's presence in a way that suggested the giil
that used to be, rather than the one of a few yeai-s
past.

"Why, this. is my old-time Olive," said Mi-s.
Gardenell, getting up to meet her, for she saw
something had gone amiss.

" Mamma, why did not you, why did not somebody
tell me that Stanton saved your life ? "

276

nEllBERT OABDENELL, JR.

" Because he requested that you should not

know."

** Then why did Aunt Esther tell me now ? I
do not want to know anything he does not wish
I should."

" Perhaps Aunt Esther thinks, as I do, that the
day for such precaution is past. The knowledge
can do you no harm. My Olive loves Stanton now,
and knows she does. Then she was still uncertain
of her heart— and he unwilling that anything
should even seem to hinder or fetter her freest,
fullest choice. I think, too, he shrank from your
gratitude, from praise or reverence, for doing what
to him was simplest, plainest duty, not to say priv-
ilege. It was love lie gave, and love, not favor,' he
sought. He would not allow anything to occur
that might possibly, in the least degree, bias your
decision.

"Oh, mamma, Uncle Horace is right, I have
been wicked as well as cowai-dly 1 I have thought
always of myself, considered my own feelings.
How can I ever forgive myself ? I have been afraid
to write the truth, shrank from giving without a
further asking what he loved me too well even to
suggest, since it brought me pain before. Mother
if we ever hear from him again, if he lives—" voice
faltering, "I will force my hand to write the fact
in plainest, straightest form. I will say ' I love
you Stanton, above all the world, you and you
only, and Africa shared with you will be paradise.
Let me come to you."

,, JR.

you should not

all me now ? I
le does not wish

as I do, that the
The knowledge
ves Stanton now,
ras still uncertain
r that anything
fetter her freest,
ihrank from your
e, for doing what
jT, not to say priv-
>ve, not favor,* he
lything to occur
degree, bias your

is right, I have

I have thought

ly own feelings.

I have been afraid

giving without a

too well even to

. before. Mother

he lives — " voice

to write the fact

will say ' I love

rid, you and you

I will be paradise.

A REVKLATION.

It wiis while Raymond was still at his mother
Cartwright's that he received a paper from home
addressed in Herbert's hand, but containing a little
poem from Olive's pen. It described a scene that
took place in the parsonage before her eyes one
day.

His daughter being out of the room at the time,
her father deemed it safe to read the article aloud
to Gatty and her mother and Be a, the only occup-
ants of the parlor. It was entitled " Miss Bunch,"
and ran thus :

Little Miss Bunch was a naughty girl

As naughty as naughty could be,
She would not say " thank you," not she indeed,

For a wilful bunch was she.

'Twas useless to reason, persuade, rebuke,

And mamma, in mild despair,
Drew her little daughter unto her kuee

And parted her tanglod hair.

" I shall have to whip," said the saddest voice.
Miss Bunch crept off in haste.
Under the table and couch and chairs,
As after her mamma chased.

Over the floor— but caught at last

One, two, the blows fell down
From a gentle hand to a tiny form

Under a dainty gown.

A look of anger, reproach and grief.
Well mingled with grave surprise,
Swept over the sweet, indignant face
, With lU soft brown asking eyes.

«>WPP"

278 HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

" Why don't you obey mamma and say

What she bids ?" Bunch droopet'. her head •.

" Why, mamma, It's cause," with shy lifted eye«,
" I can't find my talk," she said.

Little Yensie waa not far off. Before the fiiBt
verse was ended she had slipped in and laid her
head in her grandmother's lap. She was regard-
ing her father out of grave and somewhat troubled
eyes when lie ceased reading.

" Why, papa," she said, " that must be abautmy
little andel. Aunt OUie says I has one jus' zackly
like me that allers aholds the face of my Farver
in heaben.''

" Bunch," asked her father solemnly, " do you
think your little angel in heaven ever scsmpei-s
under the table and over the floor to escape a
whipping she deserves ? "

Mrs. Cartwright found it hard to keep from
smiling as the picture Ray had drawn flitted across
her mind's eye. Her son-in-law was a constant ,
diversion. But baby had no tliought of laughing.
She suddenly hid her face in her grandmother's lap
with a wail.

" Oh, it's me, it's me, and now ebeiybody knows
I was naughty 1 I shouldn't fink Aunt Oilie'd a
telled it, Uncle Hervit never would," with a gen-
uine sob.

" You are not the only Miss Bunch in the world,"
said Grandma Cartwright soothingly. " Who is
to know which one she means ? "

" That's so," cried Ben, always ready to come to

m».

mmf

X, JR.

'. her head '.
y lifted eyes,

Before the fii'st

d in and laid her

She was legaid-

)meWiiat troubled

must be absut my
is one jus' 'zackly
ce of my Farver

)lemnly, " do you
jn ever scflmpei's
Qoor to escape a

A REVELATION.

278

the front where baby was concerned. " And then,
too Olive knows there are lots of people in the
world who don't understand babies, and she wants
them to know they're not always naughty when
they seem to be."

Bunch was looking up hopefully out of tearful
eyes. " What a tumfort you is getting to be Benjy,"
she said, in exact imitation of her father's voice
when he had offered her the same consolation not
long since. " I guess I'll fordib Aunt OUie, but she
must neber, neber tell anysing 'bout me again, and
you will burn up all those horrid papers, won't you,
Nunkie Ben ? " putting her chubby arms about her
devoted follower's neck.

rd to keep from
•awn flitted across
w was a constant
ught of laughing,
grandmother's lap

ebeiybody knows
ik Aunt Oilie'd a
juld," with a gen-

nch in the world,"
ingly. " Who is

3 ready to come to

280

BERBEBT OABDENMLL, JM,

CHAPTER XXVIIL

HOME AGAIN.

•• Ah 1 lend me your Httile ear, lore !
Hark ! 'Us a beautlfal thing ;
TIio weailest month «•( the year, love,

Is 8hort«st ftud nearest the spring."

— Mbs. Whi'MBT.

" If he lives.*'

Olive's lips had faltered what Herbert's heart
had long said. It had been months now since
the last woi'd received from his friend, and then
it had been scarcely more than a word.

" The fever is raging in our midst," he wrote.
" I am tending the sick constantly and have little
time for anything else. One of mv best helpers is
dead— a bright young fellow who loved the gospel
story ; most fitted for service, therefore most fitted
for glory. I do not murmur only wonder a little,
but He knows."

This with a message of love to the dear ones
and a short postscript, ^

» You'll have to forgive me, Herv, but I don*t
feel up to writing. I am languid and uncertain of
myself, hardly able to think connectedly. It may
be the fever creeping on. If not, I'll write again

soon. Pray for your other half—

Stanton.

tui

iiniTj>l^w<i<ii^nft»i'iMai

LX, JR.

EOMS AGAIN.

281

IIL

wr, love I
Mng;
B ye»r, lore,
the spring."
— Mbs. WHi'raJBf.

kt Herbert's heart
(nonths now since
) friend, and then
t word.

midst," he wrote,
itly and have little

my best helpers is
10 loved the gospel
lerefore most fitted
Uy wonder a little,

I to the dear ones

, Herv, but I don't
lid and uncertain of
nnectedly. It may
lot, I'll write again

i—

Stanton.

Somehow that postscript roused deepest solici*
tiule in the heart of the reader.

He did not pass tite letter to Olive as he gener-
ally did, but read its contents aloud, all except
tlinse closing lines. Why should she be troubled
with the fears filling his own bosom ? He would
spare her while he could.

But his sister soon discovered his uneasiness ; it
communicated itself to her unspoken. When two
months passed with never a word, the quiet an-
guish of her face was more than he could bear^
and when she said, " You ai-e keeping something
from me. What was there in Stanton's letter
that I did not hear ? " he put it in her hand.

'■'■ He is dead," she moaned, " dead, and I let
liim die alone. My punishment is greater than I
can bear."

Her brother tried to reassure her, to find reasons
for hope and coumge, but truth to tell he was
heavy-hearted himself. Mid. Gardenell was their
comforter.

"He is too busy to write, with the cai'e of the
sick and his other work. If he was smitten we
should hear, some one would send us word ; there
is hope in this silence."

They moved to Bloomingle early. Olive so
drooped they trusted the sweet life and beauty of
nature's springtide would quicken the current
of her blood, give elasticity again to her step and
color to her cheek.

The spring 1 Yes, she loved it. But never be-

fSffi

mifjf.^ <<pw"

l«M

1 s

282

IIEUBKUT OARDKNKLL, JU.

fore had it seemed so suggestive of Stnntop. Hivd
he not passed his last spring in the Home land
with her? Bloomingle 1 dear old Bloomingle I
Had they not together and alone that fateful May-
day drank In of its loveliness? The apple-tree,
the robins, the big dining-i-oom, the whole house
seemed ever voiceful of Stanton — Stanton, and
that afternoon when she read in his face the pain
she had brought his lioart. One sentence of that
letter was ever in her memory. "Most fitted for
service, therefore mosi fitted for glory." Were the
words true ? and to whom more applicable than to
Stanton's self? Her shuddering heart fainted be-
fore tiie suggestion.

Yet the solitude, the quiet were just what she
needed, and they helped her. She was weary of
the ceaseless round cf work, of visiting ; she felt as
if unable to longer force herself to do anything.
Just to be alone - nd still with mamma and Herbert,
who understood her sorrow and weariness, was all
she asked or wanted.

To Herbert especially she clung with the tenac-
ity of despair. He knew her heartache, had he
not felt it himself ? lost his dearest ? And she had
jied to make him forget. How could she ? He
was unlike her, he had never misunderstood, or
disappointed Stanton as she had, but had always
loved him as he deserved. She dreaded his goings
to the city, and waited feverishly for his return,
and leaned on him constantly in a way that
brought all his devotion to the front and made

JfLL, .//{.

UOME AGAIN.

288

e of Stan top. Hivd
in the Home Innd
ir old Bloomiiiglo I
lie that fateful Muy-
s? The apple-tree,
n, the whole house
ritou — Stanton, and
in his face the pain
tie sentence of that
. "Most fitted for
r glory." Were the
e applicable than to
iig heart fainted be-

were just what she
She was weary of
visiting ; she felt as
elf to do anything,
namma and Herbert,
d weariness, was all

lung with the tenac-
r heartache, had he
trest ? And she had
ow could she? He
r misunderstood, or
lad, but had always
le dreaded his goings
ishly for his return,
tly in a way that
the front and made

his courage rise to meet her necessity. He must
not despair since Olive must hope, and he must
inspire that hope.

Early summer camo. It was impossible to live
in the midst of nature's sweet wooings, hor proph-
ecies of love and joy, atu' not take on something
of their cheer. In spite of dark days, houi-s of
agony and fear, the maiden's heart dared think of
someth g beside evil. Color came btick to cheek
and lip, her step no longer lagged drearily, her
eyes looked up and saw God.

She ojiened her Bible one day to Rom. 15 : 18,
" Now the God of Hope — " She stopped amazed.
She had never thought of Him in that way before :
" The God of Hope." It was right then to hope —
like God, wrong not to hope. She read on — " fill
you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye
may abound in hope through the power of the
Holy Ghost." She took great breaths over that
Scripture. So God Himself willed she should hope.
Nay, He was to JUl her with joy, and peace — her
hope was to abound.

She took her Bible to her mother's room where
Herl)ert sat talking. " I have found something,"
she cried, " something so beautiful and strange."
Her eyes were shining, her cheeks flushed, joy
overspread her countenance. •* God wants me to
hope. Not you and Herbert, mamma, but God.
He says so," and she read her verse. Then mamma
smiled at Herbert, and Herbert smiled back at
mamma. Healing had begun.

'■-*%..

284

UKURKRT OARDSNELL, JR.

II''

Olivo alwftyn jwked tlie Hamo question at first
sight of her brother after h'lH vittits \o the city.

"Any news?"

His answer was ever the same. But Bomehow,
from the day she found that verse, she exj)ectt'(l
some different reply, and following every shower
of disappointment was the speedy outbreaking of
the sun. So the weeks went by.

It had been a beautiful day, one of the sweet
breezeful days of early summer when tne spring
is yet in her breath, and its freedom in her step.
Herbert had missed all it« delights, to his sister's
sorrow, for New York demanded his presence.

Twilight was coming on, almost time for his re-
turn. Mamma awaited him In the parlor as usual,
resting on the couch opposite the window-door
which opened wide to the radiance of the westevn
sky. Her beautiful face had affinity to the glory
toward which it turned. Sunset to her was but
the opening of the pearly gates, it brought her
heavenly visitants. The glow ujwn her counte-
nance seemed not so much the reflection of what
she saw as the outbeaming of what she was ; as if
the gold and crimson within recognizing the crim-
son and gold without shone forth to greet it
through the translucent windows of her flesh.
/ Her daughter catching a glimpse of her thus, as
she passed, felt the rush of sudden tears. Tears
of neither joy nor sorrow, but the mingling of both.
Teai-s such as the realization of spiritual verities
always bring to sensitive souls, a divine agony, a

>4il J

tL=^

i>iiw> i Mii«ii « i i )l i iii > i i< i N iMiii<iii««iii i Wiitoiii i i«iiiiiihiiiiiri««ii i nii iti -t' rV'^^^^^

KLL, JR.

«o question at first
sitti U) the city.

ne. But Romehow,
rente, she ex|)ectt'(l
wing every shower
edy outbreaking of

S one of the sweet
er when tne spring
■eedom in her step,
ights, to his sister's
d his presence,
lost time for his re-
the parlor a» usual,

the window-door
nnce of the westevn
affinity to the glory
set to her was but
tes, it brought her

U])on her counte-
) reflection of what
what she was ; as if
(Cognizing the crim-

forth to greet it
lOws of her flesh,
mpse of her thus, as
]dden tears. Tears
le mingling of both,
of spiritual verities
}, a divine agony, a

f«ui>4«wRiNibiiiMBiiirtiMMkii

HOME AGAIN.

286

sublime pain, a joy which lu its passage hurts the
ilesh, because as yet it is too weak to tmnsiqit,
without suffering, the electric currents of heaven.

Olive did not disturb her. She had an almost
awe of her mother at times, so near seemed she to
the better land. Surely if Stanton were there her
mother would know it — so well was she acquainted
with its inhabitants.

The maiden went to her own room and knelt
to pray. She always prayed these days before go-
ing forth to meet her brother and ask the question
she dreaded and yet longed to hear answered. God
was most real to Olive. She could not have lived
and borne without Him, and prayer was no longer
duty but delight.

"' So on I go not knowing,* "

She sang softly as she arose,

" ' I would not If I might' "

She hesitated and pondered, as she went quietly

down the hall, whether she could say that from

her heart —

<' ' I would not If I might.' "

Did she not long to know ?

She halted before the rairror to take her hat
from the peg, and caught the reflection of her own
face. A sort of astonishment took hold of lier that
she was still young and fair, and she stood a mo*
ment curiously regarding herself.

286

HERBERT OARDENELL, JR.

" I wonder I am not old and withered," s'je said,
" the years seem so long." And the:: sighing
gently she took her hat and opened the door and
went down the gravelled path.

She stopped, amid the flowers to pluck a few
roses — she had plenty of time. The breath of mign-
onette came to her nostrils. She stooped and
gathered it with tears in her eyes as she whispered,
" He always loved it so much." Then she fastened
it to her bodice and walked on.

Was she early or was Herbert late ? It seemed
a long time she waited in the gloaming, just where
she could catch the first glimpse of liis form as he
turned into the road. The western sky was dull-
ing, its purple and crimson splendor fading into
gray, only a few bright clouds still remained. She
counted a few stars beginning to peep out.

And then — then, why, yes, it was Herbert's form
that appeai-ed, but there was some one with him.
She had started from her rock-seat to run and
meet him, but stood transfixed with head thrown
forward, eyes dilated and heart beating tumult-
uously.

There was an agony of hope, and fear and ques-
tioning in her bosom. Was it? — could it be ? — or
was she grown suddenly mad ? Oh how weak, al-
most feeble was the advancing step ! with one wild
dash she was down the road and had flung herself
on the stranger's breast.

" Oh Stanton, Stanton 1 " she sobbed.

And then a voice, that voice for whose sound

*immmmm

ELL, JR.

withered," »he said,

And the:: sighing

pened the door and

era to pluck a few
The breath of mign-

She stooped and
BS as she whispered.

Then she fastened

rt late ? It seemed
loaming, just where
ie of liis form as he
stem sky was duU-
plendor fading into
itill remained. She
to peep out.
was Herbert's form
omeone with him.
ck-seat to run and
[ with head thrown
rt beating tumult-

, and fear and ques-
? — could it be ? — or
' Oh how weak, al-
step I with one wild
id had flung heraelf

e sobbed.

ce for whose sound

HOME AGAIN.

287

she had longed and prayed beyond all utterance,
the voice so loved, said wickedly,

" It's only for your sake, Herv, you know."

She did not resent it, there was room for nothing
but joy in her 1, j-t. She pulled down the dear
fiice and kissed the naughty lips, and he dropped
to the grass on the wayside and drew her to his
lap, saying roguishly,

" I have a question to ask you, Olive."

" As many as you please," she cried, " only let
me ask mine first. Will you, can you forgive me,
Stanton, for not reading my own heart better, and
not appreciating yours?"

His arms tightened about her form, but he said,
" I am going back to Africa, Princess."

''I am going with you," she answered. " Now
that I have you again be sure I shall never let you
go anywhere, at any time, without me."

"Not even to see little mother?" he questioned
with proper resignation.

"Not even to see little mother," she replied.
" I have written to her every month since you left
and visited her besides, and we quite understand
each other. When she sees you she expects to see

me.

" So I am the victim of a conspiracy," he laughed.
" Oh Ollie, how impossible it seems that I sit here
beside you I How good God is ! Three months
ago I was lying on the borders of the grave."

She dropped her head on his bosom, and wept
freely. " If you had died, I would have wanted

-i
•ft'

i^
M

■-V

■J.

■i'

2gg HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

to die too," she said. " But Herbert made me
hope ; Herbert and mamma and God."

She did not move from the arms that held her,
but she stretched out both of hers to her brother.
He dropped on his knees beside her, his eyes drip-
ping with glad tears. She slipped her hands about

his neck.

" I love you just the same," she said, " always the
same, but I belong to Stanton. You do not feel
bad, do you, dear?"

What a child she would always be I He kissed
her lips and eyes. " You precious sister," he re-
plied, " I am almost too glad to speak ;" and he
took the hands froi around his neck and put them
about his friends. " Ollie," he whispered, " to see
you thus is the deepest joy of my heart, and for it
I thank God fervently."

Stanton improved rapidly at Bloomingle. He
would have been very ungrateful if he had not
when so many were devoted to his well-being. He
had suffered from African fever of a very malig-
nant type, and, as he had told Olive, been very
near to death. Only the tireless efforts of his
Christian boys had saved his life, and when they,
and the missionary from the next station, bade him
"good-bye," on ship-board, they feared it was for-
ever, and that he would fill an ocean grave.

Not so. God had more work on earth for him
to do, and prayers offered in America are heard,
and answered, in Africa. He reached New York
in a condition that would have surprised his fellow-

■MOT

:ll, jr.

Herbert made me

God."

irms that held her,
liers to her brother.

her, his eyes drip-
)ed her hands about

tie said, "always the
You do not feel

He kissed

BOMS AGAIN.

289

" he

re-

lys be I

ious sister,'

to speak ; " and he
neck and put them
whispered, " to see

my heart, and for it

,t Bloomingle. He
teful if he had not
» his well-being. He
iver of a very malig-
}ld Olive, been very
reless efforts of his
life, and when they,
9Xt station, bade him
ey feared it was for-
1 ocean grave,
►rk on earth for him
I America are heard,
5 reached New York
J surprised his fellow-

workers, yet far from his normal health and
strength. Herbert, ever on the lookout for news
from his friend, was at last rewarded by the s.ght
of his face, and of course headed him immediately
for Bloomingle. They liad taken a carriage from
the station, until they i-eached the piece of road
where Olive usually awaited her brother. Then
Stanton insisted on alighting and walking to meet
her.

Mrs. Gardenell constituted hei-self his nui-se,
Herbert was his faithful companion and helper,
and Olive hovered continually over them all. It
was amazing with what rapidity the young man
gained strength, under such love and cai-e. In
several weeks he was able to go on to Maine where
his mother and brothers anxiously waited his
ai)i)earing.

But he did not go alone. Olive had her own
way, and since her way was so delightfully his own,
Stanton saw no i-eason to demur. Olive's twenty-
fifth birthday became her wedding-day as well.

It was a veiy quiet affair, out under the apple-
tree with the robins twittering overhead. Of
coui-se Herbert officiated and Raymond gave away
the bride. Mr. and Mra Campbell, Dr. and Mrs.
Germaine, Harry and Eddie, with Lee and Grace
and Ruth and a few old friends made up the wed-
ding party.

" May I for Herbert's sake ? " Whispered the
young husband as he stooped to kiss his bride.

" I would like to say yes if I could truthfully,"

'v,.

,5|tf

290 HERBSnT GARDEN ELL, JR.

answered Olive. - You so like to take advantage
TZZcmse I have learned my lesson so hardly

"^SavTt'ther," he answered, " beca.«e it is so
delight'^ul to know that at last I am loved for my
own sake and not for the sake of another.

-Olive Gardenell Cartwnght.' Lee was the
fi«f in sneak her new name as she held her in a

had onlv at! hour to spare.

' ..rL so l.»PPy in yoar h.pp.»W ^^^
«hi8Mred. "It is such an ««suii...oe tmt God
rov^Iorand wooia «.*«■ give ». *at than any
tViinff else when we can bear it.
"":S,.n," said M«. GardeneU that n,,l.^ -
Olive and Stanton sat one on either s.de of her h
^: o7 each in hers, " ehild^n, • •-- ^'^-«^
all day ot the marriage of Oana of «"'''^- "™
Jesus ™ there. Ho »»s here t->.y, and nhu*
father may be as glad to-night as we are. owntoi .
my 1 m'y beloved son. do you .mlize what h,^.
Zor is given you when a mother so fearlessly, so
!;:r.^?dly. y-. gladly, puts her child .n you.
keeping, and Oianks God she may t

L,JR.

A BTRANOE JtEUITAL.

291

1 take advantage
lesson 80 hardly

because it in so

am loved for my

another."

." Lee was the

she held her in a

to the city, for she

happiness," she
sui-ance that God
us that than any-

nell that ni^ht, as
either side of her a
Bn, I have thought
[la of Galilee, and
to-day, and I think
a we are. ouinton,
a realize what high
.her so fearlessly, so
3 her child in your
nay?"

CHAPTER XXIX.

A STRANGE RECITAL.

•• We shape ourselves the joy or fear
Of which the coining life is made,
And fill our future's atmosphere
With sunshine or with shade.

" The tissue of the life to be

We weave with colors all our own

And in the field of destiny

We reap as we have sown."

— Whittikr.

There was another outgoing mission-ship and
Stanton and Olive were both there. But this
time they were not divided, one on the pier and
one on the deck. Both stood together on the
steamer now, and beside his sister stood Harry
Gardenell.

There had been many tender farewells and last

words.

" Remember," Yensie whispered, as she held her
only daughter to her heart for perhaps the last time
on earth, " remember, darling, you can never be
far from me while you aie close to God." Then
she turned to clasp Harry, one of her " little boys,"
as she still loved to call these stalwart men — the
younger membera of her family.

.V:- si"^*5rr'"*<ii'3^"' •" " ^iieSr^-s.Sx-iE

1 ' ■t'Kift*:^!*^'-;'

nERBMBT OABDMNELL, Jit.
" You are making great sacrifices, Yensie,

' said

Dr. Germaine, his own eyes fixed on the spoi where
Hany Gardenell was bidding a good-bye to hu
daughter Ruth.

" I am glad to be able," wiw the reply. " Noth-
ing so rejoices me as the privilege of giving back
to God's service those He has so kindly given to

my love." . .

" All mothers cannot measure up to such privi-
lege," said the gentleman.

" I know one who can," she replied, her eyes
overflowing as Esther held in a farewell embrace
this mother's boy whom she hoped some day to

call her son.

» E 'ery soul I gather to the fold will add another
star to your crown," said Robert Langmere heartily,
as he gav his hand in warmest clasp to his young
pastor, lor two of Herbert's baivd sailed with
this party to Africa. ^ _

On the pier Yensie and her three remaining
sons, Mi-8. Cartwright, Gatty, Lee, and a hundred
others, waved the departing ones out of sight with
hymns and prayew and teara. And as they
drifted out from the shore the group on the
steamer's deck chwped hands and sang that sacred
old Salvation Army melody, " Where He leads me

I will follow."

And He was leading one to an African grave

and they knew it not.

" It seems strange, mamma," wrote Harry Gar-
denell six months after, himself just i-aised from

JU.

A STBANOE BMCITAL.

es, Yensie," aaid
n the spoi where
good-bye to liij

) reply. " Noth-

e of giving hack

kindly given to

up to 8uch privi-

replied, her eyes
fai-ewell embrace
)e(l some day to

d will add another
langmere heartily,
slasp to his young
band sailed with

• three remaining
ee, and a hundred
} out of sight with
J. And as they
le group on the
d sang that sacred
^here He leads me

an African grave

' wrote Hjwry Gar-
f just raised from

the verge of death, " that he should be taken and
I left, who am of so much less value. He was so
strong and bright and gifted, we had such large
hopes for his futui-e. Stantou wept like a child
above his grave."

Kol)ert Langmere had won his crown. And an
uld couple in an outof-the way farmhouse in Ohio
mingled their tears and praises that God had
counted them worthy to give a son for the redei >•
tion of the world.

" One soweth and another reapeth." The reap-
ing may be long from shortest sowing, such a
difference is there in seed, in crops. One soweth
— yea, one is town that nnof^her may reap, and Ho
who has declarad, " If it die it bringeth forth
much fruit," will apportion each one his share iu
the harvest.

'"'■ Mamma," said Raymond, gathering his mother
to his arms as ^he last glimpse of the ship faded
from view " mamma, yours is a big pai't towards
the world's redemption."

" I would not wish it less," she answered huskily.
^' Did I not bear you uU for this, Ray, tliat
to the uttermost you should do the uttermost that
in you lay for God and His kingdom, and in the
uttermost parts of the earth if so He willed."

The company lingered awhile sadly as if loath
to leave the spot where they had said faiewelL
Then they separated into little groups and disap-
peared, Mra. Gardenell and Mrs. Cartwright with
Ray and bis wife and baby turning towards homey

294

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

Herbert and Lee in another direction. Lee, w>th a
Bort of glory on her lifted, tear^tained fa^e that
suggested David's psalms to her escort, fio weakly
human was it, so sweetly divine.

" He goes out not doubled but quadrupled," she
said, " and you are his partner in the spoils." She
was speaking of Stanton. " Mr. Gardenell, your
brother is so like you it was hard to believe it was
not you sailing awiiy towards Africa."

Something within the listener thrilled and
mirrored itself on his face. " You would like to
go ? " she said.

« I would like God's will done perfectly and
fully and no;/hing else," he m-.de answer. " In
my body and my spirit, my labor and place of
labor, I have no slightest choice." And she was
Bure he spoke the truth.

*' And you never have a thought otherwise ? "
she said wistfully, reverently.

He smiled. He would like to free her from this
reverence for himself as something superior.

" I am only a man," he replied. " and much like
other men. I am human. I do not wiih anything
but God's will ; I soraetimies think it, however. My
flesh sometimes rises to greet some other sugges-
tion. But my heart and will remain unswervingly
His, and that brings every thought into subjection
sooner or later."

Gatty went back with her mother and baby to
the farm and the boys. Ray accompanied them as
as far as Boston, where he had an engagement to

i
11

A HTIUyOK HKCITAL.

[)n. Lee, with a
toined far^e that
Hcoi't, HO weakly

[uadrupled," she

he spoilH." She

Gardenell, your

to believe it was

ca."

er thrilled and

)u would like to

le perfectly and
e answer. " In
or and place of
And she was

jht otherwise?

Tee her from this
g superior.
" and much like
ot wi»h anything
it, however. My
ne other sugges-
ain unswervingly
it into subjection

ther and baby to
inpanied them as
in engagement to

meet. Mrs. Gai-denell, Herbert, and Eddie were
left in the big house. You know how lonely it
seemed.

Hard work was Herl)ert'8 panacea for most evils.
Ho tiirew hinis'jlf into the prayei^meeting and
pulpit with redoubled energy, praying for revival.
He took up a special course of readuig with Eddie,
and Mrs. Gardenell, unwilling to be left out, joined
tnem. The winter was well advanced when one
day at evenfall, as Herbert was about to stoj) into
an uptown car, he heard his name spoken by a
familiar voice. He turned to see Lee Erdloy.

" Mr. Gardenell," she began, and something in
her manner, quiet as it was, suggested excitement.
" Mr. Gardenell, I need a friend to-night. I
believe you are such, and I can trust you."

" I believe you can," answered the gentleman,
his pulses leaping in a most unministerial manner in
spite of his controlled voice. " How can I serve
you? "

' My mother is worse, I fear she is dying," a
little tramor in the sweet voice.

Herbert waited for nothing further but turned
toward her home. " I will go to her at once," he
said.

" She is all I have on earth," continued the sad
young voice. "Yet I would not dare say I am
sorry if she were only ready to go. I have tried
to lead her to Christ, and I have failed. I have
tried to bring her comfort, and in vain. She has
had a sad, sad life, how sad, I have never dared

296

llKltUMHr Vi ilDKHKLL, JR.

to hint to any one. But you ought to know now,
for ah« needs you. She leeU nhe niunt mu nome
dorgyraan —lighten her heari of iU load before
she can die in {waoe."

The youiig lady loused, evidently to gather Hell-
control.

•' I would rather you should know our sorrow
than anybody else," she went on, " if I must choose
a thing in any form so humiliating. I did
not know I was so proud until now. Besides
mother knows only you among all the pastors of
the city, and would prefer you if you can spwe
time for such a recital."

" Sjmre time I that is what time is for, and who
else siiould share your sorrow if not I, Lee ? Are
you not Olive's friend— and — mine ? Say to me
all you please, tell me the woi-st. You must have
no pride where 1 am concerned. The farther you
take me into your confidence the letter I shall
like it, the more you open your heart to me the
greater will be my gitititudo."

»♦ You are kind," she said sadly, " but you do
not know yet, you have not heard all," and in
spite of her wonderful exercise of will, her voice
trembled.

What a ghastly object I Herbert Gardenell felt
himself almost shrink at first sight of the loath-
some spectacle. So shrivelled, so sunken, so
withered. The mere skeleton of a woman was
this, hardly half the size and weipht she had been
when last he saw her. Her eyes seemed to have

,,JR.

A STUASaX RMVITAL.

9tf

it tn know now,
niuMt MO Nome
itM load bafore

y to gather Mclf-

cnow our Morrow
if I must chooee
Hating. 1 did
now. Betideii
11 the paaton of
f you can spare

I is for, and who

lot I, Lee ? Are

lie? Say to me

You muat have

The further you

le lietter I Hhall

heart to me the

lly, "but you do
ard all," and in
)f will, her voice

srt Oardenell felt
light of the loath-
, BO sunken, so
)f a woman was
ifht she had been
s seemed to have

left their sockets, and, naked and uncovered, taken
llitiir places above the sunken lids, unblinking,
unresting. He could think of nothing but the
lieadligiit of an engine ta it shrieks into tlie depot
lit night, its fiei-ce eye putting out every clUec
light, so bright, so wild, so unhumun seemed
these eyes watching him narrowly now.

This was a task such as had never met him
Iwfore in all his varied experiences. He had been
the confidant of many a wretched man and woman,
had knelt at the dying bed of murderer, thief,
and sorceress, but never had such eyes searched
his, or such blankness of despair met his tender
solicitation.

Would she not like to have him pray? No.
He began to quote Oou's word, she silenced him.
" I want nothing but your ears," she gasped.
" When you have lent them until I am done then
you will know whether pmyer is of any avail in
my behalf."

She seemed so near death, so unlikely to survive
the recital of her story, that Herbert bad desired
to press Christ on her attention first; but she
would not listen. There was nothing else to be
done, she must free her mind.

He wrote a few hasty words to his mother, lest
she should woiTy over his non- appearance, and dis-
patched it by a little boy, then he came and took
Ilia place again by the bed, bidding the woman
Hpeak freely and without fear since he was her
friend.

HHM

298

HERUEllT GARDEN ELL, JR.

" Thank you," she said courteously. " I must
speak f i-eely if I would gain peace. That it is to a
friend seems stitiaj.^e irony."

What a tale was that 1 The two listeners
shuddered as it went on. A story of low, seliish
ambition that robbed life of its purpose at its
source and culminated in murder. Yes, murder.
Lee Erdley, pure, holy, womanly Lee Erdley had a
murderess for a mother — had lived her guileless
life daily in such unholy companionship, so near
comes heaven to hell. Herbert felt the shudder
that ran through the form at the other side of the
bed, and avoided the eyes that sought his, lest she
should read in them his horror.

"I hated him," said this woman feebly and ,vith
effort, for self-murder had made possible to her
as to others, the murder of another. " I hated him,
though he was my husband. He bound me when
I wished to be free, ha caressed me when his
caresses were intolerable. I felt I must get lid of
him. The thought grew upon me ; I tried to shake
it off, it came back, it followed me. I gave him
small doses of araenic — I used to take it moderately
myself for my complexion. He suspected me and
charged me with the deed the night before he
died, for it had made him ill. I denied the charge,
and in a fit of anger administered in his tea the
fatal draught that ended his life. That was not
arsenic, it was a powder given me by a gypsy
woman. I had not dared use it sooner.

" I oould not keep away from him after I had

mELL, JR.
ourteously. "I must

A STRANGE RECITAL.

299

peace.

That it is to a

The two listeners
\ story of low, selfish
of its purpose at its
murder. Yes, murder,
lanly Lee Erdley had a
lad lived her guileless
companionship, so near
irbert felt the shudder
[vt the other side of the
that sought his, lest she

rror.

woman feebly and with
I made possible to her
another. "I hated him,
d. He bound me when
caressed me when his

IfeltlTOM«« get rid of
ipon me; I tried to shake
lowed me. I gave him
sed to take it moderately
I. He suspected me and
,ed the night before he

ill. I denied the charge,
ainistered in his tea the
I his life. That was not
ir given me by a gypsy
1 use it sooner.
my from him after I had

rcivUy committed the deed. I kept going to
him, uneasy and afraid. He was very affectionate,
sensitively alarmed, lest he had wounded me by
his suspicions, asking me to forgive him. i tried
to coax him to take an emetic, hiding my real
reason for this by a reference to his late fears.
But he would not listen to the suggestion. He had
been very wrong to grieve me, he said, and would
prove how absolutely he trusted me by never
doubting me again. He never did.

" He fell asleep hnd woke in some terror and
distress as if from a bad dream. He found me
beside him, and blessed me for my faithfulness.
The last movement of his dying eyes was towards
me with an attempted smile. He did not die hard.
I was mad, frenzied, yet I dared not call a physician
lest he discover my secret, I dared not summon
friends lest they suspect. I gave him a deadly
draught in my anger, and let him die in my
cowardice. Everybody supposed he died while I
slept— some sudden affection of the heart. I have
lived a hell on earth ever since."

She had drawn herself to a sitting posture as
she proceeded with her narrative, she fell back
heavily at its close. Herbert rose and arranged
the pillows under her head and moistened her
mouth. Her daughter seemed for the time pai-a-

lyzed. -

He whispered to her, divine words: "Though
your sins be as scarlet, they jhall be as white as
snow ; though they be red like crimson, they sbaU

■'xmmmmmn

800

UERBERT GAMDXNEIL, JR.

be as wool." "If we confess our sins. He is faith-
ful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us
from all unrighteousness." " Him that cometh to
me I will in no wise cast out." " Come unto M«
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest," adding that the real rendering of
the last passage was simply Christ's beckoning
hand, "Hither, I will rest you."

But the woman did not seem to heed. He
prayed, but it was as if into deaf ears. She spoke
no further word and gave no sign that she under-
stood. But his ministry reached the heart that
had nurtured itself on heavenly things. Lee, pale
but composed, rose from the place where she had
crouched with her face hidden in the bed-clothes
and prepared her mother's medicine.

" I thank you, Mr. Gardeuell," she said, " I
think you can do no more to-night. Perhaps God
will spai'e her another day, aiid open her heart to
His message."

He felt himself dismissed, yet hesitated about
leaving her alone after this awful divulgence of
guilt. She read his thought. " You are kind, but
I shsdl not mind it," she said. " I have lived
right here for years and found it the very gate of
heaven."

" God bless you," ho said tenderly. " To such

as you hell itself could be no barrier to God's

presence. Yet I should be pleased to share your

vigils."

"Thank you, there will be no need." How

A STRAKGK RECITAL,

r sins. He is faitli*
3, and to cleanse us
[im that oometh to

" Come unto Mo
laden, and I will

real rendering of
Christ's beckoning

jem to heed. He
i ears. She spoke
gn that she under-
led the heai't that
things. Lee, pale
ace where she had
1 in the bed-clothes
icine.

ell," she said, "I
ght. Perhaps God
d open her heart to

ret hesitated about
wful divulgence of
" You are kind, but
d. " I have lived
it the very gate of

mderly. " To such
10 barrier to God's
eased to share your

no need.'

quietly sad her voice. " Others have claims on
your Hme, and your mother will be alarmed at
your long delay. If you can spare a little while
to-morrow " she did not finish her request.

" I shall be here in the morning. In the mean
while may God rest your soul and body in Him-
self."

He lifted her hand to his lips and went out.

SwifsSSOR&SifflB*^***^ i

-^'*'%

802

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

CHAPTER XXX.

AN END AND A BEGINNING.

»* It was not the ' come forth ' that made Lazarus live,
But the Life close by,
For how should words power to the powerless give?"

— S. F. S.

"Every Inmost aspiration Is God's angel undefiled;
And in every 'O my Father 1' slumbers deep a 'Here, my
child.' "

The message Herbert had sent his mother read
thus : " 1 may be very late, do not wait for me.
Lee's mother is dying, I may remain with her."

Nevertheless when he returned that night he
found his mother watching for his coming. Some-
thing in his face made her draw him into the pai^
lor and into a chair and fold her arms about him.

" It has been a fearful night to you," she said.

» A fearful night," he assented.

" Is she dead? Mre. Erdley ? "

" No," with a shudder. " She still lives if any-
thing so ghastly can be called life, anything so like

death." ,

" Then there is still hope for her, my son ?
" Yes, I am going again in the morning."
" Something else burdens you, dear."

Vi^^mi^^^t

LL, JR.

AN END AND A BEGIN NINO.

808

IX.

[NNING.

aade Lazarus live,

e powerless give?"
— S. F. S.
el undefiled;
ibers deep a ' Here, my

3nt his mother read
o not wait for me.
imain with her."
•ned that night he
his coming. Sorae-
V him into the pai^
er arms about him.
t to you," she said,
ed.
?"

he still lives if any-
life, anything so like

rher, my son?"
he morning."
lu, dear."

" Mother, I am tortured for that girl — that pure,
holy, beautiful life lived almost on the verge of
the pit So full of strength and pathos and pos-
sibility to suffer and to bear."

" Her release is near, Herbert."

"Yes, but her memory, her soul, they will
always hold the impress of these years of horror."

" Have they been years of horror to her ? Have
they not rather been years of growth toward and
in God?"

" True," he cried. " It is myself after all that
is out of joint. Mother, I am possessed with an
unutterable longing to snatch her from her sur-
roundings, her hardships, to strain her to my heart
and stand between her and every evil, lifting her
on my own bosom to the joy, and peace, and beauty
that are her inalienable right."

'* Herbert, you are denying your heart what your
life demands. Why do you not let yourself
love?"

His head drooped to his breast.

" Let I " he said, " I cannot hinder. I am fight-
ing for my life, my self-respect, and I am not a
conqueror."

" Your self-respect 1 " she echoed. " Does any
man lose self-respect who loves purely so noble a
woman as Lee Erdley ? "

" Never," he answered. " But, mother, I
thought I loved before. Can that which dies so
speedily have ever had birth ? "

" Babies die new-born."

HERBERT OARDESELL, JR.

« Yes, but not men, nor should the full-prown
love of a man. I never felt anything like this
before. I do not understand myself. I am pained,
amazed, grieved— and, yet happy beyond all ut-
temnce at one and the same time. I have fought
this passion with all my strength yet fall before it
like an infant. I determine to avoid her and her
face shines up to me from every printed page and
out of every avenue of my being; I strive to put
her out of memory and her lightest word comes
back to thrill and defy me. I would purchase her
smile at the price of torture. I am possessed by
that which has come unbidden and will not go at
either entreaty or command."

His mother smiled. "Herbert, you ai-e simply
in love," she said. " I think perhaps that is the
only real love ; the kind that comes unbidden and
unsought— that takes possession of us against and
yet with the fullest consent of our will ; which we
could no more create or counterfeit than we could
God's sun and dew. I doubt if anything less, any-
thing we go out to seek or foster is worthy of that

holy name."

He did not answer her. " Perhaps, she l)egan
again, but a finger was gently laid on her lips.

" Don't say it, mother. It humiliates me beyond
telling, the bare suggestion that I may have offered
to any woman less than she had right to de-
mand."

" Unknowing," added a low voice.

" Unknowing," he rejoined sadly. " But sup-

,L, JR.

Id the fuU-prown
iiytUing like this
elf. I am pained,
»y beyond all ut-
). I have fought
1 yet fall before it
woid her and her
printed page and
y ; I strive to put
htest word comes
rould purchase her
I am possessed by
and will not go at

srt, you ai-e simply
erhaps that is the
)mes unbidden and
ri of us against and
)ur will ; which we
•feit than we could
anything less, any-
sr is worthy of that

'erhaps," she l)egan
laid on her lips,
imiliates me beyond
tl may have offered
had right to de-

AN END AND A BEOINNINO.

806

voice,
sadly.

" But sup-

pose that into my married life had come such con-
vulsions as these ? " He shuddered. " I start biick
from the awful possibility of so great sin in
myself."

■ " Possibility to great sin is also possibility to
great virtue. I have learned that for myself, Her-
bert. Being what you are such thoughts would
never, under such circumstances, have rippled the
current of your being, or, having suggested them-
selves, would have died of their own temerity in
a soul fully surrendered to God. Why trouble
yourself unnecessarily, my son, over what is not and
can never be ? Who shall say which is gi'eater
sin, to ignorantly offer less than our best with
intent to bless another, or to stubbornly withhold
our choicest when its bestowal can do nothing but
enrich both giver and receiver ?"

He was silent again for a moment then, " Mother,
you open paradise, but I fear to seek an entrance,"
he said. " I have no hope whatever that Misa
Erdley has any answering love for me."

" Then rouse it in her."

" Would it be then this genuine, spontaneous
growth of which you speak ? "

" Like begets like," she answered. " And seed-
sowing is lawful, as also the fertilizing of soil
already sown. . All growth is spontaneous, the out-
cropping assurance of life within. I think Lee
admires you very much."

He made a little gesture of contempt.

♦' I do not covet her admii-ation and I do not have

■^i^'M'ii^

806

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

it. It is niy office, not myself, she reveres ; the
truth uttered, not the man who utters it, thftt she
adores. She looks me in the eyes as quietly and
well-nigh as tenderly as you do, mother, and with-
out a flutter more of pulse. While I— even the
calmest of her glances sends my blood like lava
through my veins."

<"• I'm afraid this isn't his father's son who is
talking to me to-night," said Yensie Gurdenell.
" He always hoped even against hope. I think I
must tell you a story you have never heard, Herbert,
the story of your mother's failure and your father's
conquest over despair. I told it once to Eddie
Campbell, at your father's request, and it saved him
from a grave mistake. It may serve now to rouse
anew in you the courage that should always accom-
pany your father's face."

The small hours of morning had struck when
Herbert left his mother at lier chamber door. His
kiss on her lips was warm and clinging, and there
were trar;es of tears on both faces. He had been
traversiiig with her the bitter years of her early
life and, she trusted, not in vain.

When Mr. Gardenell called on Mre. Ei-dley
next morning, she was languidly conscious of his
presence and words. She had not spoken, hardly
movei\ all night, Lee informed him, but rallied a
little after day dawn. The minister could not
tell whether the story of Christ's love entered her
understanding at all, though she made no objection
•to the reading of Scripture or the offering of prayer.

.,jn.

AN KfTD AND A BEGINNING.

807

16 reveres ; the
ttera it, thnt she
a8 quietly hikI
other, and with-
le I— even the
blood like lava

er'a son \(ho is
ensie Gnrdenell.
hope. I think I
r heard, Herbert,
and your father'8
; once to Eddie
and it saved him
rve now to rouse
Id always accom-

lad struck when
imber door. His
tnging, and there
s. He had been
ears of her early

OJi Mre. Ei-dley
' conscious of his
ot spoken, hardly
lim, but rallied a
mister could not
love entered her
nade no objection
tffering of prayer.

Befoi-e Herbert left he asked permission of Lee to
bring his mother with liim when next he called.

" Motlier has always had marvellous power with
the sick," he said. " My father often remarked
that when a case bafiHod all his skill he i-esorted to
lier, especially where a woman's heart was con-
cerned, conscious of its own unworthiness and un-
able to realize God's love."

Lee saw no reason why she should refuse this
request. The pride that had sought to shield her
mother was no longer available. The remem-
brance of it and of her own humiliation, were swal-
lowed up in the consciousness of her mother's
need and peril. It was doubtful indeed if she
realized any added humiliation. She was now as
ever the daughter of this woman who was exactly
what she had ever Iteen. The knowledge of her
sin neither enhanced nor diminished it, and it was
but sin. Clirist died for sin. All her fears and
hopes and desires centred now in one thing, her
mother's salvation. She had no room for any-
thing else. She was ready for anything that
would make it mora probable.

So that afternoon, Yensie Gardenell, escorted by
her son, entered the humble dwelling and sat
down by the sufferer's side.

There was something in the beautiful woman
that seemed at once to attract the dying one — a
nameless grace and tenderness, a delicacy of touch
and tongue. She kissed that shiivelled face and
held in closest clasp that murderous hand, and

t^aimi'^

UERIiEBT GARDEN ELL, JU.

h-^

Lee turning suddenly awa/ to liide her tears
aurprmed thera in the eyes of this mother's son.

How wise are some in soul healing I This
skilled worker spoke no words except a few in
friendly greeting. She simply sang and looked the
gospel gladness into this drooping spirit. Oh, the
power of saci-ed song 1 How Yensie's children
I lad always exulted in her gift I How her oldest
son thanked God now as he saw the sick woman's
wild gaze soften and melt and hunger, almost yearn-
ing, take on her face the place of stony despair.

Such hymns were sung as are full of the Cross
and the Blood, heaven's only remedies for sin.
The two young people sitting one side hai-dly
breathed as they watched und prayed, until at last
a tear — a tear — dropped over the sunken cheek,
and a voice, harsh in its eagerness, asked, " For
me?"

" For you." Yensie Gardenell's lovely face was
close beside the speaker's in another moment, her
arms about the attenuated form as she sang with
melting tenderness,

"Was it for crimes that I have done
He hung upon the tree ?
Amazing pity ! grace unknown I
And love beyond degree ! "

and presently they were weeping and praying to-
gether, sufferer and saint.

" I am a great sinner," Herbert heard the dy-
ing woman whisper hoarsely. Then that gentle
voice answering,

lide her tears
other'ti son.
Baling I This
cept a few in
md looked the
pirit. Oh, the
isie's children
low her oldest
I sick woman's
', almost yearn-
ony despair.
I of the Cross
iiedies for sin.
16 side haixlly
d, until at last
sunken cheek,
, asked, " For

ovely face was
r moment, her
•the sang with

lone
III

,nd praying to-
heard the dy-
)n that gentle

AN END AND A BEGINNINO.

" This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all
acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world
to save sinners."

" But I am the chief of sinnera, you cannot im-
agine what I have l)een, and yet you say it is all
for me ? " His mother's tears dripped freely as
she sang softly,"

" Depths of mercy I can there be
Mercy still reserved for me ?"

And Herbert slipped out of the room, no longer
able to control Jiis feelings.

When he came back, an hour after, his mother
sat where the woman's eyes could feast on her
face, holding her hand. She smiled at her son but
did not move until at last the eyes closed and the
sufferer slept Then she rose and folded Lee to
her bosom and went away with Herbert. He
came back later and insisted on sitting beside the
in valid while her daughter took some needed rest.
His mother was too frail for such work now.

Mi-8. Erdley did not die immediately. She
lingered for several days. It was wonderful to
see how the expression of her face changed in that
short time, how the cold, hard look gave place to
one of restful trustfulnesu.

Mrs. Gp.rdenell visited her every day and was
always welcomed by a smile. She was always mo-
tioned to a chair where the sick one could watch
her best and always asked to sing one hymn,
" Depth of mercy." The dying one had kind gi-eeb-

r'*!^^.

IIKHBKHT GARbSyKLL, JH.

ing« an<l hand-clftsiw for llirbert, wistfully tender
yearning glanceH for her daughter, but for Yensie
were re8ervo<l hor rare smilen, her lew confldenceH.

At last one night Hhe passed ftway, only Lee and
Herbert beside her. "I trust in Jesus Christ's
raeroy," she answered feebly to the young minis-
ter's gentle " You do not fear to go ? " tlmn, in a
moment,

" Lenore," with strange distinctness and strength.
" Lenore, my hands are clean ! there is no stain of
blood upon them but His. You are no longer the
child of a murderess."

There was a struggle, a cry — not of fear or pain
but of seeming surprise — the jaw fell, and Herbert
took Loo's hand and led her from the room.

A humblo funeral, a half dozen mournera, two
voices in holy song, one in prayer and a few simple
words. And the couch was empty, the house
desolate, Lenore alone.

JH.

vlstfully tender
but for YeiiHie
ew confldenceH.
y, onl}- Lee and
J08U8 Christ'H
e young minis-
;o ? " thun, in a

sssandBtrength.
re is no stain of
e no longer the

t of fear or pain
all, and Herbert
he room,
mournei-s, two s
,nd a few simple k
ipty, the house

A NEW HQUK-A PQHtHBLM CALL.

CHAPTER XXXI.

A NBW FJMB — A P08HIBLK CALL.

" TYi« purple grapo — iMt tl ing to ripen— Ut«
By very reaaon of Its practoua coat.
O heart I remember vintages are Ick^
If grapea «lo no^ for freesiug night-dewa wait."

— IIklkn Hunt.

*♦ I WISH you could persuade Lenore to come to
us if only for awhile, mother," said Herbert, the
day of the funeral. " I invited her, but she only
looked surprised and refused, thanking me and
saying she should not be lonely, it was her home ,
Perhaps by and by she would find a room nearer
her school."

Mrs. Garder.ell tried what she could do.

" I have no daughter, and you no mother, Lee,
and I miss Olive so much. If you would only con-
sent to take her place and give me a right to your
company."

But the girl hesitated, and Mrs. Oardenell felt
sure she could guess her reason.

" I must get used to my life," she said, " and
the sooner the better. This would only spoil me
for the future. I should only miss so much the
more some day. I think I must say no."

i.'^iM-,.

!»tn^7?* "^- -■■ ' <

812

HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

" But we only live one day at a time, Lee. Per-
haps this ia God's way of helping you over the first
hard days, and He will surely lead you later. I
think your mother would he glad to have you with
nie, and we hoth know Olive would. It would he
only joy on my side. Perhaps I am selfish."

*'■ You selfish I Oh, Mi's. Gardenell, I am the self-
ish one. I am just considering myself. Is it not
hecause I am afraid of joy, afraid I shall covet it
and find it harder to live after it is gone? Yes,
mother would be glad, and I will go to you for a
little while — ^just a littlo while until I can get set-
tled nearer my work."

She moved her belongings into an empty cham-
ber hired from the upstaii-s tenant, locked her door
and slipped into the Lome life of the Gardenells
iw naturally as if she had always been a part of it.

They made no fuss over her, treated her as no
stranger, allowed her to come and go at pleasure,
have her own sweet will. Eddie was soon her
devoted follower, and Herbert envied him some-
times his easy access to her smiles and confidence.

With him she was not so free. That of which
he had complained to his mother was no more true.
She no longer met his eyes, no longer had utmost
ease in his presence, she seemed almost to avoid
him. The change brought only p rrow and won-
der to his heart. Was it because lie shared with
her the secret of her mother's sin? Surely she
ought to know him better than to suppose that
could diminish her value in his eyes.

•^fiWff'-Mffgff-miiiiBffiiafiiit

,t a time, Lee. Per-
ig you over th«j first

lead you later. I
id to have you with
rould. It would be

I am selfish."
denell, I am the self-
f myself. Is it not
i-aid I shall covet it
ir it is gone ? Yes,
irill go to you for a
) until I can get set-

nto an empty cham-
lant, locked her door
fe of the Gardenells
ays been a part of it.
ir, treated her as no
and go at pleasure,
Eddie was soon her
't envied him some-
niles and confidence,
ree. That of which
ler was no more true,
o longer had utmost
med almost to avoid
inly s rrow and won-
ause lie shared with
jr's sin? Surely she
;han to suppose that
lis eyes.

A NEW HOME— A POSSIBLE CALL.

813

He loved to watch her pretty household ways.
He understood now what Olive had called the
"high art" of her dish-washing. She never
allowed the china or silver to go out to the maid,
dropping easily into the old way of her former
sojourn there.

" It seems almost as if time had gone backward,"
she said to Mrs. Gardenell as she stood wiping the
choice cups and saucers. " If only Mr. Gardenell
and Olive and Stanton were here," with a sigh.

And Herbert, sitting apart, apparently intent on
his paper, took it all in. The sweet confidence of
her manner toward his mother, the tender home
feeling that held her heart in the familiar place,
the dainty handling of the pretty things which
took on sudden value from her touch.

She went back to school in a week. Then they
only saw her at breakfast and at late dinner and
duiing the evenings. Sometimes from the study
window Herbert saw Eddie accompanying her to
the car, carrying her books. Sometimes he heard
her placing for his brother the music which he
preferred. It was amazing to him to find out by
chance words and allusions how speedily she
had become acquainted with the young ft. low's
studies and perplexities, his friends and his
hopes.

To himself it was a joy just to have her near, to
know she was in the room or house. She did not
know how often his eyes followed her outgoing or
watched for her return, hjw his heart gladdened

814

HERBERT GARVENELL, JR.

when her light step tripped up the stairs or her low
laughter rippled through the hall. She must aever
go away again.

There was a look of surprise, yet evident pleas-
ure too, in her eyes when he met her one afternoon
just beyond the school-house gato. He repeated the
experiment. But one day, at his station a little
earlier than usual, he saw her— unperceived himself

slip out of the side door of the building and

hasten down a back sti-eet. He never chanced that
way afterwards.

There wiis another Mission party ready to leave
New York. This time there were among them
eight of Herbert's little band which was gi-ow-
inf* steadily. Tom Burton was one of the out-
goers, and he took with him Grace Germaine, his
month-old bride.

The departure had a hallowed, mellowing effect
on the church of which so many of them were
active membei-s. It was a growing church because
a giving church — giving not only of its material
wealth but its highest life. A spirit of most earnest
consecration rested on its young people especially,
and the meetings increased continually in interest
and numbers.

It was the pastor's habit to preach at least one
missionary sermon each month, and this was mis-
sionary Sunday. Mre. Gardenell, Lee and Eddie
were all present at the morning service. At even-
ing the two gentlemen went alone. Lee spent the
interval on her knees with her Bible, Mrs. Gar-

denel
leade:
"Ii
as he:
his g(

:x, Jii.

e stairs or her low
, She must never

yet evident pleas-
her one afternoon
He repeated the
[lis station a little
iperceived himself
the huilding and
never chanced that

,rty ready to leave
\rere among them
which was grow-
3 one of the out-
*ace Germaine, his

I, mellowing effect
Miy of them were
ing church because
•nly of its material
irit of most earnest
f people especially,
tinually in interest

preach at least one
, and this was mis-
sU, Lee and Eddie
; service. At even-
ine. Lee spent the
(r Bible, Mrs. Gar-

A ySW HOME— A POaSIBLE CALL.

815

deiiell in her chamber, holding the meeting and its
leader up to God.

" It has been a blessed day, Herbert," said she
OS her son dropped on a chair at her bedside, for
his good-night chat before retiring to rest.

"A blessed day, mother dear. The evening
service was excellent, the atmosphere tender and
deeply spiritual, and one peraon asked for our
prayers."

The earnest face of the speaker was pale and
weary, and there was an undertone of almost sad-
ness in his voice that did not escape the listener's
ears.

" Your sermon this morning was powerful, Her-
bert, unanswerable. God gave it to you."

He smiled as he stooped to tenderly kiss the lips
that spoke. " You reminded me of your father
when at his best. Lee was deeply moved."

"Yes, I know "—hesitatingly. "Mother, she
may be the next one I shall send forth."
" Alone, my son ? "

"If God wills. I am mistaken if she did not
get her call to-day."

There was a pause, and then he went on. " It
hiis been a peculiar day to me, mother, a day of
heart-searching. In the midst of the morning ser-
mon I caught a glimpse of Lee's face. The solemn
rapture on it almost overcame me for the moment.
I do not need to beg your pardon, mother, you who
always understand me— but for that moment every-
thing within me cried out to go too. The unutter-

)

"^^

816

HERBERT OARDEJfELL, JR.

able longing to speak God's truth amorg the
heathen, melted my soul into streams of desire
and my whole being seemed flowing that v/ay.

" For a time I was overwhelmed. The old call
with tenfold intensity swept me before it as a straw
on the current of Niagara."

There was a gentle, sympathetic pressure on his
hand. His eyes thanked her.

" At first it seemed like the mighty renewal of
my call to the field, but I know better now," he
went on humbly. " It was only God's rebuke of
my sluggishness."

" Rebuke I Herbert ? " questioned the voice at
his side. " Such exalted emotion rebuke ? "

" Yes, mother, such rebuke as you frequently
administered to me in my childhood when you
gathered my naughty self to your bosom and
shone all the loving sorrow of your soul into me
through your tender eyes. How my boyish lieart
was rent between the throes of agony and de-
light. But love always conquered, mother, always
will. What is rebuke but disguised blessing ? And
TO.pture ? is it not often simply glorified pain ?

" I see now how content I was becoming to be
nothing but an arresting voice, a guide-board
pointing to others the way, rather than an anoint-
ed leader — here for the moment to arouse his
fellows, but ready, eager to show them the path
and tread with them its length. Oh, mother, I was
unconsciously losing tlie divine unrest of a soul
fixed in his will yet panting ever after the unat-

LL, JR.

truth amorg the
streams of desire
i^ing tliat v/ay.
led. The old call
before it as a straw

tic pressure on his

mighty renewal of

7 better now," he

God's rebuke of

aned the voice at
n rebuke ? "
as you frequently
Idhood when you

your bosom and
i^our soul into me
7 my boyish lieart
of agony and de-
ed, mother, always
ed blessing ? And
glorified pain ?
is becoming to be
je, a guide-board
er than an anoint-
lent to arouse his
ow them the path

Oh, mother, I was
e unrest of a soul
rer after the unat-

A NEW HOME— A POSSIBLE CALL,

817

tained. Hov can he enthuse another to volunteer
who is not himself girded for battle, shod and
armored to lead the fray ? "

Agfain the soothing of that loving hand. This
mother read in her son's voice all the conflict and
the victory his soul had met that day, and she
knew it had not been without much weariness and
pain that he had conquered.

" A hai-d lesson well learned," she said.

" A lesson learned," he replied. " And God let
Lee Erdley set me the copy. This may be the
purpose for which she touched my life."

" This and more" answered his mother.

Ho smiled again into the dark eyes looking so
hopefully into his.

" This and more, thank you, little mother, I ac-
cept the amendment and pray God it may be
true."

" What will you do? "she asked.

" Do I where God has spoken who else shall
dare lift his voice ? "

"He to whom God has spoken also. Every
word of God is good."

" What if he hardly discern between the voice
of his Master and his own desire ? "

" If any man lack wisdom let him ask of Gcd.
The inward desire is at least a thii-d part of his
guidance. The written Woi-d and the speaking
Providence can make it absolute certainty."

He smiled again. How weary he looked.
♦* You need your bed " she said " and I mutt not de-

818

HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

tain you. Bat let me say this much more : the
word as well as the heart-impression is yo-ii-a for
* marriage is honorable in all ' and has the sanction
of his blessing."

He stooped to kiss her. " There is a missing
link. God's providence has called Lee to the
mission field," he said as his lips touched here.

"Not more really than He has called you,
Herbert."

He hesitated.

" True, little mother, no mortal could be more
truly, more divinely called than I have been."

" And the gifts and calling of God are without
repentance," she quoted. " Perhaps you will dis-
agree with my exegesis, Herbert, but I have this
to say in its defence ; I have marked numberless
instances where it ran parallel with His provi-
dences. I fail to see why, if while calling you to
another field He yet for the present appoints you
to this, He may not also appoint you a helper
here who is fitted to the exigencies of that call."

He threw back his head and laughed. " What
shall I call you, mamma, sophist or schemer ? "

"Neither," she answered promptly. "You
shall call me no name but my right one — mother.
The one above all earthly othei-s interested in
your highest good and greatest usefulness and
never willing to lead youVhere God has not said
you may follow."

Reverently he stooped and gathered her for a
moment to liis bosom.

4) V a*

A NEW HOME— A POSSIBLE CALL.

819

nuch more : the
ion ia yo'ii-a for
lias the Banction

ere is a missing
led Lee to the
ouched hex's,
las called you,

1 could be more
have been."
Grod are without
aps you will dis-
, but I have this
■ked numberless
with His provi-
e calling you to
3nt appoints you
it you a helper
lies of that call."
ughed. " What
)r scliemer ? "
omptly. " You
lit one — mother,
i-s interested in
usefulness and
Grod has not said

"Most loving, most true and therefore most
wise," he whispered. " Your words will not soon
l)e forgotten. From your heart they have
reached mine, pray God they may have nas&ed
tl\rough His in their journey and so bring me only
His will for me. His will /or me, mother, for me.
Not His usual leadings, not His will for most of
children but His will for me. That I must know
and do."

He put her back on her pillows, covered her
gently, kissed her good-night. But she clung,
whispering, to his neck.

" Do you remember what Elizabeth Charles says,
Herbert ? ' God does not need to make room for
Himself by making a desert and a desolation. He
made room for Himself by creating the worlds.' "

" Hush I " he said, the thrill at liis heart vibrat-
ing in his voice. " Hush 1 It was through His own
desert He perfected our Eden. The room he made
was for Himself to die."

" To die and live again," she cried triumphantly,
" and behold He is alive forevermore."

He went out reverently.

^thered her for a

■ >ii n ii iu iii n.f. p .ii iil ' l i t"

tiO

MEBBEBT QABDENBLL, JB.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE OLD STORY.

"Tlie light not the clood,— the Joy, not the ■orrow— Is what
endurath, hecaoM God is love, and love is heaven."

—Mrs. Chaklkb.

It was prayeivmeeting night. Mrs. Gardenell
had been suffering all day with headache. Her-
bert had been obliged to leave the city in an early
train, but as there was no school, Lee had spent most
of the day beside the sufferer, bathing her head
and doing all she could to alleviate her pain. She
had fallen asleep before dinner time, and lay with
wide open eyes when the girl again appeared.

"How rested you look! Is your head bet-
ter?"

" Much better. The pain is all gone, I am
simply weak. I thank you so much for your care,
dear Lee."

The thanks were broken off short with a kiss.
" Who shall thank you for all you are always
doing for me ? and I have something to tell you
that is such poor reward for your kindness. I
have been almost glad I could not tell it to-day, I
have dreaded it so much. But now you are better

JB.

TBE OLB STORY.

821

be sorrow— is what

leaven."

-Miu. Chahlkb.

Mrs. Gardenell
leadache. Her-
city in an early
3 had spent most
thing her head
I her pain. She
le, and lay with
n appeared,
your head bet-
all gone, I am
jh for your care,

rt with a kiss,
you are always
ling to tell you
lur kindness. I
t tell it to-day, I
w you are better

I must not delay. I must have itover. I — I have
found another," slie hesitated, unwilling to saiy
home — ** another room," she finished, " I am going
away."

" Lee, Lee I how can you ? and how can we get
along without you ? "

*' Far better than I can without you," answered
the girl brokenly, " I am not going because I wish
to go, but I mutt."

"Must leave your best friends?" in surprise.
" Lee, you are cruel. What reason can you give
me for going ? "

'♦ None, none. I must not think of reaeons, I

must go. Oh, I hate to leave you and I hate to

grieve you," hiding her face in the coverlet.

* Please don't urge me to stay, dear Mra. Gai*-

► denell, I dare not."

"No, dear, I will not urge you against your will.
But I will ask you to delay your departure, for my
sake, until you have carefully reconsidered the
matter."

" It will do no good, it will make no difference,"
mournfully. " I have considered it very much,
but always reach the same conclusion."

" When do you go ? ''

" Saturday night, I think."

" So soon ? • You owe us at least a week or two
of warning."

" I owe you more than I can ever pay, this will
only swell the debt. You must not think me un-
grateful, you must not think I am glad to go out
ai

■•»%..

822 HERBERT GARDEN ELL, JR.

into the world again. It is not because I do not

love you all."

Mrs. Gardenell soothed her. " There, there,

do not cry. We will pmy about it, dear. Vev

haps you are distrusting God, Lee, taking your

life into your own hands. Do not haste or grieve."

They talked awhile longer, and then the girl went

away to prepare for evening meeting. Slie w.i8

gone a very few minutes when Herbert appeared.

" Awake and better? You were asleep awhile

ago when I reached home."

She smiled. " Did you meet your appointment
all right ? Have you had a good day ? "

» In every re8pe<;t but one, I left my mother
suffering at my departure. You have scarcely
been out of my mind all day."

«' Needless worry," she said fondly. " I have had
' excellent care. Lea has hardly left my side a
moment."

" Where is she now, mother?"
" Gone to prepare for meeting."
" How long since ? " consulting his \vi\t> \
" Perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes."
" I will walk clown witli her," he said.
" She has decided to leave us, Herbert.'
»' Leave us 1 " he started. " She shall not, I will
not permit it, she needs her home. How wilful
she must be, mother, for such a gentle being. I will
put a stop to this if possible." He kissed her and
went out, waiting a few moments in the hall for
Lee's appearance.

iuse I do not

There, there,
t, dear. Pei'-
taking your
ite or grieve."
» the girl went
ng. Siie wiw
K3rt appeared,
asleep awhile

r appointment

y?"

[t my mother

have scarcely

. " I have had
eft my side a

is wat* '».
tes."
said,
srbert.'

shall not, I will

. How wilful

le being. I will

kissed her and

in the hall for

TUE OLD STORY.

828

•♦ Do you know whether Miss Erdley has left the
house or not, Mary?" he inquired of the maid
who passed him presently.

'' She went out of the side door ten minutes ago
I should think, sir."

" Thank you," Herbert smiled grimly.

Eddie came down the staira singing as Herbert
opened the door. " Coming my way ? " asked the
elder.

" No ; I'm sorry but there's a lecture befoi-e the
class to-night and I cannot miss it."

"I see. Is that why Lee took advantage of the
side door this evening ? my company alone would
be intolerable."

Eddie gave his brother a roguish glance.

*» She does avoid you lately, that's a fact, but it's
not a bad sign. Faint heart never won fair lady,
you know," and he swung around a corner.

It was a quiet meeting, but tender. The leader
was delayed a few moments when it was over, and
by the time he reached the door the girl he sought
had escaped and was out of sight. He laughed,
to himself, amused and a little nettled. He would
outmatch her yet. She would not be likely to go
home the usual way. He struck into a side street
and soon ovei-took her, catching up to her side.

" Runaway," he said, a ripple of mischief in his
voice, " I think you will have to slacken your pace
now, to give me chance to recover my breath.
Permit me," and he drew hev hand through his
arm. " See, we are going to walk slowly. Am I

IlKHnmiT GARDEN ELL, JR.

yerj offwnsive to you, !-««, that you avoid me 80
much?"

''How can you imagine such a thing, Mr.
Gardenell?"

" But you do avoid me, do you not? You ran
away from me one afternoon after school — I saw you
do it — and you have repeated the offence twice to-
night. What ought I to conclude from these facte ?
Lee, be hoiietit with me and tell me, do you not
intentionally shun me ? "

He waited for her answer and out of her truth
she breathed a low " Yes."

" I tliought so, and it grieves me. Then mother
tells me you are going to leave us. I think that
must be my fault, too, since you seem to like Eddie
and mamma. The house will be very lonely with-
out you. I cannot tell you how I shall miss you.
It seems as if I could not let you go : and yet it
can hardly be pleasant for you to live in the ho'ise
with one you desire to avoid. Am I right, Lee?"

"Yes, sir."

♦♦ And that is your reason for going?"

" Yes, sir."

" And yet you are sure you do not dislike me ? "

" Yes, sir," again. It seemed impossible for her
to speak in anything but monosyllables, and they
seemed nearly to choke her.

She was much distressed. She had never seen
him like this befoi-e. So masterful, so determined
to have his own way, to say and know what he willed.
Was he disturbed at the manner in which she was

void me mo

thing, Mr.

' You ran
— I Hftw you
ce twice to-
these fact* ?
do you not

of her truth

Then mother
think that
o like Eddie
lonely with-
lU miss you.
; and yot it
in tl's ho'ise
right, Lee?"

lislike me?"
isible for her
les, and they

. never seen
) determined
lat he willed,
lich she was

TlIK OLD STORY.

825

rttuming their kindneas? She did not see the
light iis his eyes iwlie askod the nt'xt question, she
would not have dared l(M>k up and meet it

" I can think of but one otiier reason why you
should avoid me, Lee, and that hardly seems pm-
Hible either. Is it^^iau it be because you love me ? "

He felt the hand on his arm tremble but she did
not speak. What could she say? She was »
woman of truth, and if she spoke at all she must
speak the truth, and she knew, as she knew nothing
else tliat moment, that she loved this man utte ''y.
She could not deny it; dared she affirm it? She
liad no reason to suppose he returned her affection.
He had been always kind, as his father was, but he
was lifted above her in hiar evety thought — sasred ;
and she knew too of his loss and sorrow over
another.

How was il possible for her to acknowledge her
folly. Not that she was asliamed of it, >, never.
It was a holy thing and modest, it did not intend
to thrust itself into notice, it only asked privilege
to exist unseen, unknown, cherished in her heart of
hearts. She had not sought or fostered it. It had
come like the violet and the dewdrop come, un-
heralded except by the spring atmosphere, the new
life that must bring something into being.

Would he understand all this? Surely he
must, being himself, must understand and pity and
shield. He was to her the sum of all perfection —
the one of all earth to be trusted. Should she
throw herself upon his magnanimity, his mercy ?

mam

82G

U3RBERT GARDENELL, JR.

He was walking very slowly, waiting for his
answer. He intended to be answered. He re-
peated bis question. " Do you love me, Lee ?

" Lee 1 " He liad never called her this before to-
night, how sweet it sounded on his lips as she
whispered,
" Yes, sir."

« As a minister ? " he said. " Of course every
body loves and reveres the minister. Is that how
you love nie, Lee ? "
" Yes, sir."

"Any more than that ? "
" 1 OS, sir."

" You do not mean, you cannot mean, that you
love mo just as ^ou would any other man that
sought your favor ? "

" No, oh, no ! " sVie cried desperately. " I could
not think of any one else as I do of you. And
oh, Mr. Gardenell, please don't torture me with
any more questions, but let me go away quietly as

I desire."

She tried to withdraw her hand from his arm
but he held it close. He bent his head until his
I .«ath swept her cheek.

"Do my questions torture you, dearest?" he
said tenderly. " Forgive me that I asked them.
I could not have done so had not my hungry heart
demanded some hope, had not you so successfully
hidden all expression of your favor, though my
every word and act for months, must have divulged
my devotion. Your answers to-night do not

L, JR.

THE OLD STORY.

827

waiting for his
iswered. He ve-
)ve me, Lee?"
her this before to-
1 his lips as she

' Of course every
iter. Is that how

3t mean, that you
Y other man that

srately. " I could
do of you. And
torture me with

JO away quietly as

and from his arm
his head until his

you, dearest?" he
tiat I asked them.
t my hungry heart
^ou so successfully
favor, though my
nust have divulged
to-night do not

torture but delight me. Suppose I should tell j ou,
what is quite true, that you are dearer to me tliaii
any earthly thing has ever been, that I want you
for my own, my wife, that your presence and your
touch are to me exceeding joy. What would you
say ? Do you love me well enough to answer as I
wish to all that ? Oh, Lee, my love, what would
you think if I should ask you to walk beside me,
sharing my weal and woe all the days of my life ? "

" I should think God loved me," she whispered
a clinging in her soft palm, tears in her voice.

" He does and so do I — dearly, dearly." So Her-
bert Gardenell did his wooing.

He led her into the house, the parlor, and under
the electric light while he lifted her face to his.

I want to see my happiness," he said, " Oh, Lee,
how your love has crowned me I "

" Mother we have come for your blessing," he
said as thej' stood beside her bed.

Yensie's voice trembled a little as she joined their
hands. " Receive ye one another, as Christ also
received v. to the glory of God," she repeated.

Later, after Lee had gone vo her room, they still
sat on.

" Mother, I never knew it was possible so to
love," said Herbert. " Why, even you are dearer
who have ever been so dear. I can never have
learned to love before."

She drew his face to hers and held him close
while she replied,

" You will say that again to me some day. Her-

828 BERBEBT GABDENELL, JR.

bert, when we both reach the Beyond L»ttd. «;"
-IwitI a wondaouB Bmile-" if in this child-bi*,
with its limitations, we can so love, w enjoy, what
will it be when f uU^phereU manhood «»;d woma^
bood is attained? When we w^Uce m the R^«^
n,ction likeness with Rosurrect.on poaaibiUUes
upon us?"

WUICU WATt

i Land. It"
his child-lixt,
to enjoy, what
1 and womaor
in the Resur-
a poMibiliUea

CHAPTER XXXIII.

WHICH WAY ?

" Fear not, (weec saint, by joy to be undone :
Peace comes with joy, like lilies with the son."

— AUCR W. ROLURS.

A TIMID rap on Mrs. Gardenell's sitting-room
door. Lenore answered the pleasant " Come."

My daughter." The lady rose and clasped the
maiden in her arms. '* I vrish you knew how
happy you have made me," she said. " It is not
often that a man chooses one so exactly the choice
01 all that love him. You are favoi-ed, dear Lee."

She pushed the girl away from her a little as
she spoke and smiled into the beautiful face.
There wera tears in the gray eyes and tlie cheeks
reddened and paled under the gentle scrutiny.

" You are too kind," she faliered, " but— but
I am afraid I said what I ought not to have said
to Herbert— Mr. Gardenell — ^last night, and I don't
know what to do now."

Yensie smiled. She had half expected this.
What you ought not to have said," she
repeated. " Was it not the truth ? "

Truth ! Lee looked puzzled as well as abashed.

fgg; HERBERT GARDENELL, JR.

" Oh, yes. I told him nothing but the truth."
« And you are sure you love Herbert, Lee?"
Sure, Lee was sure of nothing if she was no. sui-e
of this. Every throb of her being asserted it and
had all the long night and morning as her will
battled her heart. ., ., ^ • xi,«

» Oh, yes, I am sure. I am afraid that is the
trouble, I love him too much. I cannot seem to
give him up, but I must."

" Who says you must give him up, Lee /

"God." ^^. , .

"Are you sure? Who gave you this love for

The girl hesitated. Who gave her this pure
strong passion for this strong pui-e man? Who
but her Maker ? So she answered again.

"God." . . .^ ^, .

" For what purpose ? To deny it, restrain it or let
it outflow and enrich and bless its object ? Why
do vou think God taught you to love Herbert ?

"Oh I don't know 1 lam troubled and perplexed.
I cannot think straight, but I must do what is
right, Mrs. Gardenell. I have always wanted to
be a missionary."

"So has Herbert." . , , j .

The girl's gray eyes flasi.ed joyfully to the lady s

**'" i know it. I used to sympathize so much with
him over it and pray for him. It brought him
near to me because I too was hindered.
" Who hindered you, Lee ? "

JR.

ut the truth."
ibert, Lee?"
ihe was noi sui-e
asserted it and
ing as her will

•aid that is the
cannot seem to

ap, Lee ? "

ou this love for

e her this pure
u-e man? Who
1 again.

b, restrain iter let
» object? Why
lOve Herbert ? "
ed and perplexed,
must do what is
Iways wanted to

EuUy to the lady's

hize so much with
It brought him
idered."

WHICH WAY?

881

♦• God," slowly, thoughtfully.
" Did you ever wonder why ? He always has a
purpose in all He does. He hindered you and He
hindered Herbert. He threw you together, taught
you each to love the other above every earthly
tlUng. Now this did not happen, it was planned.
That which firet attracted you to Herbex-t was ex-
actly what first attracted Herbert to you— your
common denial of a good you coveted. Was there
no object in this? How God shines through it
alll"

The girl's radiant face was lifted to the speaker's,
but a shadow crossed it.

"Yes, it looks like His leading. But two
weeks ago — Missionary Sunday— T feel sure He
called me fully to the Foreign Mission work. I
must not let anything, not even such a love as
this, hinder me."

"No, certainly not. Lee, do you think that
Herbert would even wish to keep you from
strictest obedience to the will of God ? "

" Never ! " she cried. " I know he would not."
" That is why you love him, is it not? because
he is so true, so pure, so Christly ? "

" Just that," she answered eagerly. " It makes
me better just to look in his face and hear his
voice. It makes me love God more."

" And yet you think, dear, that God, who has
brought all this to pass — who makes Herbert
what he is — who has taught you two to love each
other and yet love His will better than each other,

882

UERBERT OARDENELL, JB.

will let you fail of His will if you cherish in a
natural way the love He sent and fostei-ed?"

" I have 80 many thoughts," said thegiil timidly.
*' I liave wondered if God may not have set me
free on purpose that I might do that which I
longed and was not able to do in other years. I
realized that Sabbath morning that the last bond
was loosed, I was absolutely free to follow Him.
I do not know why I did not realize it before."

♦'You had hardly time, your sorrow was too
close and the new surroundings too real. Then,
perhaps, God was giving time for another tie to
strengthen, to cement."

" Then why wake me at all to the realization of
my liberty and His call ?"

" That He might prove to yourself what is plain
to His heart— your willingness to fowake all and
follow Him. Lee, you would not hesitate to sever
any tie at His command however your heart miglit

shrink?"

The voice was low but unswerving that an-
swered, " I had decided to do that before I sought
yon this morning." ,

" Lee, if my son was anything but what he is,
if his consecration and devotion did not measure
fully up to yours, if in anything it seemed possible
for him to stand between you and the will of God
—farther than that— if he had not himself received
like yourself a ell to this same work— a call I
feel sure he must some day be permitted to answer
—I would hardly dare advise you as I do. But

mamm

'ou cherish in a
fostered ?"

the gill timidly,
lot have set me
b that which I
I other years. I
tat the last bond

to follow Him.
ze it before."

sorrow was too
too real. Then,
>r another tie to

;he realization of

self what ia plniu

a forsake all and

; hesitate to sever

your heart miglit

Bverving that an-
at before I sought

; but what he is,
did not measure
it seemed possible
i the will of God
»t himself received
te work — a call I
)rmitted to answer
on as I do. But

WHICH WAYf

8S3

look at the facts, my child, see how exactly your
oxperienoef match. Yon speak of the l5st tie
binding you to your native land as severed. But
is that true? Does not your a£Fecticn for Herbert
bind you as truly as his affection for me lHnd»
him ? Does God give yui liberty to say with
your lips the nay that gives a lie to your heart ?
to refuse the positive, assured position of helpful-
ness and honor open to you for what is as y<)t
dimly defined and uncertain ? Does He not ask
you rather to take a first step in faith that the next
will be made plain ? Are you not willing to wait
with one whom God Himself seems to have chosen
fciyou?"

There was silence for a few minutes then Lee
spoke. '* Does not God sometimes ask us to give
up our dearest for his sake ? "

" Yes, when they stand directly across the path
of His will for us. Seldom when we are desiring
in all things to reach that perfect will, and shaping
our lives and our loves to His patteiu. We should
take great care to have His wisdou^ in such mattei-s,
dear."

" Why should He call roe if I am not to go? "
this was the evei^recurring question.

" Who sajrs you are not to go ? not I, not He,
who has bade you walk beside Hia anointed son.
Herbert might ask that question also, Lee. Delays
are not nays, God's 'wait' in not denial. It is
often but the preparation for a more abounding
* yea* a more peremptory ♦ go.'

*i\

834

nEHHERT GARDENELL, JR.

"The Syrephenic^an woman bo learned when
Christ said to her, ♦ Be it unto thee even m thou
wilt.' Beyond those unanswering lips and avoid-
ing eyes she saw the throbbing Christ-Heart.
The blessing »he had sought for one, blessed two
then and many a thousand since. ' My daughter '
8ho cried out of the lin.itations of her finitenesH.
But His infinity embraced all the tormented sons
and daughtm-8 ..tall 'Jie raotliers in the age to come.
ii To i;r'>«"me on God'rf lov^ is to honor his heart.
^;av he not have delayed Herbert that he might find
you, and you that you might find him? My dear
child, is it not possible— since it is so difficult for us
to know ourselve.'— Cnat om retxson for the assur-
ance with which tlio call to another field came to you
that S'vbbath moruiiig may have been the apparent
hopelessnens of the love you had for my son?"

The girl's eyes fell but she did not reply. Mrs.
Gardenell smiled. •

" It is written oie shall chase f» thousand and
two put ten thousand to flight :~Two of one heart
and one mind, Lee;-of His heart and His mmd.
Oh my darling, that Canaanitish woman and you
and I are kin. Not more infinitely finite was she
in her weakness and her need than are we. And
God is as infinitely willing to chatjgeour weakness
into strength as he was hei-s, and our need into
boundless stora ; to ar,swer the daring of our little
faith with His almig'aty 'Even as thou wilt.

The girl was weaping softly. "I have been
afraid of prosperity," she said. "I felt that this

- w"-,«*BM?ax««er^

learned when
)e even as thou
J lips and avoid-
ig Christ-Heart,
one, blessed two

My daughter '
of her finiteness.
tormented sons
i the age to come.
X) honor his Seart.
that he might find
ihim? My dear
BO difficult tor us
3on for the asstir-
r field came to you
been the apparent

1 for my son ? "

I not reply. Mrs.

se p- thoujand and
-Two of one heart
sart and His mind,
h woman and you
tely finite was she
han are we. And
lange our weakness
and our need into
daring of our little
as thou wilt.' "
ly. "I have been
" I felt that this

WniCU WAYt

886

blessedness could only have come .« a test of ray
fidelity to God in giving it up. I Ljedso much to
grow, I am so immature, and I have always felt
sorrow to be the great grace-grower."

" Sorrow and joy. They go together, and God
gives us always tlie most of the last. Joy brings
sorrow's fruit to perfection as the sun ripens what
rain and soil develop. Oh, Lee, my child, my
precious one, you are yourself an answered prayer,
the answer to much prayer. " I thank God for you."

They were still quietly talking together, Lee
with her head on his mother's bosom, when Herbert
entered unannounced.

" Am I intruding ? " he asked in the happy tone
of a man who fears not his answer.

*' We are only discussing calls," said Lee, flush-
ing under his smile.

" I hope mamma has defined your position as
clearly as she has mine," he answered. ' Called
to the field, appointed to the recruiting office,' I
think that is how you put it, mother. Lst me
suggest that you make Lee's read thus, ' Called to
love and be loved.' "

Something in the glance his F.ffianced flashi^d
him assured Herbert she had read the deeper
meaning of his words.

" To love," she cried eagerly, " and to love Him
utterly is, after all, doing His highest will. Love
asks us to-day to walk unafraid and content in the
path he opens to-day, watching His eyes and trust-
ing His heart for the leading of to-morrow."

■•*1K..-

886

BERUKRT OARDKNKLL, JR.

The eyes of mother and son met. M«. Garde-
nell led the maiden to the young man'« side -^nd
went to the organ, running her fingere ligJitly over

" He will have to teach me tx> be u- -aid of joy,"
Lee said as she stood before her lc\ with drooi>-
ing eyes. " Sorrow and hai-dship -re old friends,
I know their faces. But this," her voice faltered,
" it seems almost a sin to be so happy."

"Heresy, heresy," he said merrily. Then with
tender sympathy in smile and voice, " It is written
nay, commanded, ' Rejoice evermore.' Joy is the
language of heaven on earth, Lee, and foreign to
our tongues. But the children of the better
country acquire it readily."

And from the other side of the room came a

voice sweet and pure and thrilling, as when it en-

ohanted thousands;

" I know not what Is before me,
Ood gently holds my eyes,
And o'er each step of ray onward nay

He makes new scenes to rise.
And every joy He semis me cines
A sweet and glad surprise."

And two clear young volues joined her ou the clos-
ing verse ; one a tenor, one an alto.

" So on I go, not knowing,
I would not if I might."

And as the words fell from their lips two hands
met each other in earnest clasp, and two hearts
joined in^i unuttered amen.

Pf>. .L^rH.«*ftB»Wia*C<WW»V»BBt^fl*y«-.*r«'rt^r

MABB1A0JI-BELL8 AND FA RK WELLS.

R87

M«. Garde-
iii'it Hide '\nd
) ligJitly over

•aid of joy,"

with droo[>-

e old friondH,

/oice faltered,

. Then with
»* It is written
.' Joy ia the
nd foreign to
of the better

room came a
18 when it en-

Inay

ler on the clos-

ipg two hands
nd two hearts

. ,- (wi-r-fisftFaiW!

CHAPTER XXXIV.

MABBIAOB-BELLS AND FAREWELLS.

" We've only to wait,

In the face of fate

For the green grasa under the snow."

— Amnik a. Pbkstoit.

" The children of Ood need never say good-bye."

— Chablkb Oeoros.

Herbert wrotui a letter to Africa. We have only
room for a short extract.

" I did not run away from you that night bo
long ago, when we were walking on the veranda
ana you spoke to me of Lee, Ofive, because I was
offended. No, it was because you read my heart
and I dared not stop and listen any longer. But
yon were right, and your words never left me.
Lee and I always did belong to each other and we
have found it out. Before this letter reaches you
she will be my wife."

•' Come . here this moment, Stanton, I cannot
wait," cried a little woman authoritatively from the
veranda of the mission-house to a tall dark man
standing a little way down the compound.

** Isn't it beautiful ? " as he approached obedi-

1W^

f-it* ^-l*

BBS

IIKHUKHT OARDKNKhL, JR.

ently and read the missive nhe thrust into hw
hand. " Don't you wish they were coniing here
for their wedding trip ? "

•♦ I can wait," answered the gentleman smiling.
♦♦ 1 am so sure tlioy will take a trip here some

day." , „ .,

" Say it again, my brown-eyed prophet, siud
his wife rapturously. " Say it again. What you
gay I believe, your predictions so nearly alv/ays
prove true. I must go and tell Hany the news."
They went on tlieir wedding trip not to Africa
but to one of our western states. Aunt Jessie had
written, " Bring her to me, Herbert, I want to see
her, I want to put her next to Fred in my heart : "
and Lee chose to go.

Ray, 'hose work for the Mission Society was
ended, and who had offered himself for appoint-
ment as a missionary to South America, came on
to fill Herbert's pulpit while he was gone and to
"tie the knot" as he expressed it. He was im-
mensely amused over his small daughter's evident
jealousy of her uncle's friend.

» Your nose is broken, Bunch," he said solemnly
the night after their arrival, as the child stood look-
ing askance at Leo.

Slie put up her hand to the aforenamed article.
»♦ It doan' feel like it am, papa."

" It isn't hurt the teentiest mite," said her uncle,
taking her in his arms. But she soon clambered
down, uneasily hovering about the young lady in
w>om she was interested. Evidently 'ler mmd

inmnr ■rtir" ■■■""" ■—"-■■^i*-

MARHIAOJS-BELLa AND FAREWELLS. 889

iBt into his
soniing here

lan smilinpf.
here some

ophet," siiid
What you
early ahvays
y the newB."
lot to Africa
it Jessie had
[ want to see
t my heart :

Society was

for appoint-

rica, came on

I gone and to

He was im-

hter's evident

said solemnly
ild stood look-

)amed article.

said her uncle,
3on clambered
young lady in
ntly 'ler mind

was weighted with matters tno great to In) kept
witli Hrtfety.

^^You is my mo$t auntie, an' my papa is goin'
to make you my truli/ auiitio an' gib you my
name," she said. " Oh, dear," in sudden distress,
♦♦everybody gettin' anuz/,er name but me. My
Aunt Ollie isn't her own name an' you is, an' —
an' — " in a burst of despair, ♦♦ I'se afraid Uncle
Ilervit is somebody else 1 "

Everybody laughed over this outburst, her
father 'declaring it was like the "goody-goody
stories " founded on fact.

Herbert took the little one again to his arms
and kept her happy.

♦» Uncle Hervit," she whispered, " my papa is
a great change man."

'♦Is he?"

" Yes, he changes people's names an' — an' — you
don't like any other girl better'n me ? "

♦♦ Not any other little girl," answered Herbert,
keeping within the boundaries of truth.

♦' Then I wish you'd look 's if you didn't."

They were married in church to please Herbert's
congregation. The little girl seemed intensely iii-
terestfcd in the ceremony, watching her uncle out
of jealous eyes. Eddie, whose charge she wiis, had
been obliged to appeal to her conscience to prevent
her from " 'terrupting " the proceedings. They
were hardly over before her little hand slipped
into Herbert's and she insisted on riding back to
the house in the same carriage and on his knee.

840

UERBERT OABDENSLL, Jh.

ht'

They hud scarcely reached liome before she drew
Lee's head down *o her lips and " whipstered " in a
voice her father heard several feet away.

" Say, doau' you fink you ia too big for Uncle
Hervit to carry on his shoulder?"

" Much too big," answered the lady with em-
phasis. " Besides, I would not want to lx> jarried
there."

" Wouldn't yoii ? " in surprise. " Why, I would.
Say," with a decisive hug, " I do love you, Aunt
Lee, if Uncle Hervit does look at you."

The midnight trai.x whirled them away.

There was b great deal of talking and planning
going on at the old parsonage while the young
couple were gone. There were serious decisions
reached, for Eddie felt sure at last that he was
to accompany Raymond back to South .Vmerica.
In his estimation there existed no needier field,
and none for which he w:is better fitted. When
Herbert and Leo returned it was to find both
brothei-8 under appointment and expecting to leava
their nativj land together in a few months.

" So it seems our family circle is tr* be a triangle,"
Herbert said to his mother, and it wad not without
some feeling of loss as well as gain that he again
picked up his work. He had Iiardly well begun,
however, wh^n an important letter reached him.
It w?3 written at the dict^tiou of the executive
coinmii;teo of the mission board he served, and had
received their hearty approval.

Aware of his former desire to engage in the

;,r,; i» ., 'II Wi | "!"l i r

afore she drew

ipstered " in a

vay.

big for Uncle

ady with em-
; to be carried

Why, I would,
jve you, Aunt
u.
away.

and planning
Lie the young
ioiis decisions
t that he was
outh .Vmerica.
t T'.eef'.ier field,
fitted. When

to find both
ecting to leave
months,
be a triangle,"
OA not without

tliat he again
ily well begun,
• reached him.

the executive
lerved, and had

engage in the

MARRIAGE-BELLS AND FAREWELLS. 841

foreign work, and uncertain whether the reason
which then hindered him still held good, they
wrote to inquire if he would entertain a proposi-
tion to serve his board in China. They had need
immediately of a strong man to fill an important
position suddenly left vacant. He was already
familiar with the language and work. They knew
of no other individual in the denomination better
fitted to hold the place to the entire satisfaction of
all. Would he not give the subject his careful and
prayerful consideration before deciding to refuse ?

It was not Africa, but it was missions. There
was a tender almost vvigtf ul look in his eyes as he
placed the sheet in his wife's hand. There was
something of the same look in hen) as she perused
it.

" Herbert, this may be God's open door."

" But mother," he answered.

" There are no buts with God," she replied.

"No, hitt" — smiling — "she could not go. I
must not leave her alone. She was my father's
choice gift to my care."

" And your heavenly Father's as veil. But—
you see I can use tlie woi-d — I am looking for an
open door, I feel almost sure it will come soon."

" Little wife but not of little faith," he said
fondly. " I have not yet considered the foreign
work from the standpoint, of my new possession.
It means so much more — ^involves not my sacrifice
only now but — doubly mine— yours : I am not
certain I would not dread it."

842

BERBERT OARDENELL, JR.

" Then, surely I shall cease to be a blessing."
She came to his side and lifted his face to her o .vn
with her hand. "You are mistaken, Herbert,"
she said, " I read the contradiction of your words
in your eyes. You would rather have me in direst
danger than out of God's will and in His will is no
danger."

" I think I shall be able to say of you, my wife,
what my father said to his— and greater compli-
ment or more deserved, never a woman received
— ' you have always met my spirit's highest aspi-
rations before I voiced them, held me to not from
God's best, helped not hindered me, in reaching the
fullest possible expression of His will.' "

" I should never want you to say less. Yet it
will be the God in me alone that will make it pos-
sible," she made humble reply.

" We will not mention this letter to mother,"
she said presently.

"Not for the world, my darling. We will just
wait and pray and know His will is sure to be

done."

" It is done already since we wish it to be done,"
she whispered.

It was only the next day, and Herbert was in
his mother's room.

My son," she said suddenly, " it is time for me
to set you free."

" Mother," he answered gently, " have I ever
felt bound by your love? "

" Never, dear, never. At least you have never

MABRIAGE-BELLB AND FAREWELLS. 848

a blessing."
3 to lier o yn
n, Herbert,"
your words
me in direst
lis will is no

ou, my wife,
sater compli-
nan received
highest aspi-
5 to not from
reaching the

less. Yet it
make it pos-

to mother,"

We will just
B sure to be

b to be done,"

srbert was in

IS time for me

'have I ever

u have never

made me conscious of it. But I think I shall soon
lose my self-respect, begin to despise myself if I
hinder you further in the first desire of your
heart. Olive is gone, Harry is gone, Eddie is soon
going."

Her son tried to stop her mouth with kisses, but
she went bravely on.

" Your father put a limit to your term of service.
It was for a time — until the boys were grown and
educated. The time is past."

" Yet I will not give you up, mother, or leave
you alone."

" No, my darling, you will not. I am going to
leave you — think of my courage! — going with
Raymond and Eddie who need me much more
than you do. Eddie is my baby, I must keep close
to him."

Her son was taken utterly by surprise.

" Mother I " he cried, " Mother 1 have you con-
sidered what all this means ? your health ? "

"I have consulted a doctor," she answered.
" Horace net only gives his permission, but favors
the change. He thinks it will be a benefit. Her-
bert, my dear boy, you are astonished, troubled !
I did not want you worried unnecessarily, I did
not wish you to know of my thought until I
was sure it- was not mine only, but God's."
Then she clasped her arms about him and cried
a little.

" It is the hardest thing of all to part from you,"
she said. " I am very human, and never mother

■ -^-^r.

M-

844 HERBERT OARDENELL, JE.

had such a son as mine. No, dear, you must not
reason with me or urge me. Eddie and Ray iHjed
me, and this is settled, Herbert, I settled it on my

knees."

So quickly did Lee's door open I

Mm Gardenell was touched, indeed, when she
^vas informed of the letter and its contente, and
found her leading so apparently in the order of
Goal's wai. All that perplexed bci was the field
to which her son was appointed.

" It is China, Herbert? " she said, a questioning
inflection in her voice.

" It is the will of God," he answered. Long
since I settled this, mother, that I was called not
to Africa or America or China, but to the will of

^How quickly things happen when God gets
^eady I Only a few weeks and every plan of life
seemingly changed. Only seemingli,, however,
since their plans and His wowj one.

It was not without some natural sorrow that the
old ties to church and home were riven ; the church
and home so long and so peculiarly identified with
the life of this family. Alone with his God, Her-
bert bade farewell to the old pulpit in the very
spot where his voice had arrested the feet of a sin-
ner, and turned them into the road which led to
martyrdom and glory. There he solemnly gave up
the charge he had accepted that night so long ago,
and covenanted again with God for another work
to another people.

msmuumm

on must not
,nd Ray iwed
tied it on my

ed, when she
contents, and
the order of
was the field

a questioning

Bred. •* Long
ras called not
, to the will of

hen God gets
ry plan of life
glif, however,

jorrow that the
en; the church
identified with
his God, Her-
rtt in the very
ti© feet of a sin-
4 which led to
ilemnly gave up
rht so long ago,
r another work

MABBIAOS-BELLS AND FAREWELLS. 845

Tenderly they went from room to room of the
parsonage, each like the face of an old friend, each
with some story done up in its very furniture.
The nursery — play-i-oom ?nd work-room — mother's
room — the old study — places cf birth and death,
which is only another bii-th.

However it was better than it might have been.
At Herbert's suggestion, Eddie Campbell had been
called to his old pastorate, and he would occupy
the house. It was pleasant to know the dear old
rooms were still to be consecrated to pure family
life. That the voices of little children and of holy
song and prayer were to hold it true to its highest
uses. Surely these new-comers could only get
blessing by their sojourn where the very atmos-
phere was charged with a present Christ.

Both mission parties were to start from their
native land about the same time. Their farewells
were said, not on the wharf at the out-going of
some steamer, but in the old home where a large
company assembled to say good-bye ; and at thb
i-ailway station in the morning where a select few
watched as they steamed away toward the Pacific
coast. Thei-o they were to separate from each
other and go their different ways.

Last days are so fleetixig. One beautiful clear
autumn morning, those we have followed so long
gave last embraces, said last words, took last
lingering looks in'j each other's faces as their
steamers lay at anchor almost side by side.

"You remember what Stanton wrote us, Her-

."^It,

840 HERBEHT GARDEN ELL, JR.

bert," whispered his mother, " that heaven is very
near and direct from the foreign field? If I see
your father first I will tell him you are lifting the
banner of the cross in China."

" And if I see him firat," he answered, " I will
tell hira you are repeating in word and song the
old, old story to the lest daughters of South

America."

" Oh, the glory of itl " she cried, "the glory of
it, that He should count me worthy I I never
dared hope so much; my cup runneth over.
God's thoughts are always so much higher than
our thoughts."

" Lee," turning to take her daughter to her
arms, " I never aspired to be more than the mother
of missionaries. He has made me a missionary
mother. Never a holy desire of my heart, but
sooner or later He has satisfied it."

" Then," said Herbert reverently, " I shall see

Africa."

And the Angel of Destiny smiled, for he knew
that it was written in the plan of the great King
that in a day not so very far off this man would
be a necessity in the Dark Land. That Herbert
and Lee should clasp in their loving arms the
brown-eyed prophet and his little wife and noble
Harry Gardenell and Ruth. And though they
were not to linger together, must labor many miles
apart, they were yet to meet occasionally, and ever
know that all their toil was for the same people,
for the same end— the rising, amid the dense dark-

.'.^..M^tMMiNMWCRMef^^

MARRIAGE-BELLS AND FAREWELLS. 347

heaven is very
ield ? If I see
L are lifting the

iwered, " I will
d and song the
ters of South

, " the glory of

rthy ! I never

runneth over.

ich higher than

aughter to her
than the mother
lie a missionaiy
f my heart, but

tly, " I shall see

ed, for he knew
f the great King
this man would
.. That Herbert
loving arms the
B wife and noble
nd though they
labor many miles
sionally, and ever
the same people,
d the dense dark-

!«*JJ'f;i:;KK!««.<'-

ness, of the Sun of Righteousness witli healing in
His wings.

And the angel, catching already some strains in
the heavenly chorus raised by voices trained beside
the lowly workers in the jungles of Africa, knew
that it would be swelled by ten thousand more in
the great Reaping-day who should call this man,
this woman blessed.

But their eyes were holden and they could not
see. But they coulu believe, and that is the next
thing to omniscience.

" Herv, father and brother both to me, good-bye.
I will be true, God helping me, to your teachings
and His will," said Eddie, embracing Herbert and
kissing Lse.

" Here's to long service before promotion, old
fellow 1 " said Ray, as he gave his brotlier his hand
in a parting grip.

" Amen," was the hearty response, as Herbert
unclasped two dimpled hands from about his neck
and laid his little niece in her father's arms.

The two boats floated out of harbor together,
each party on either deck saying last words before
they began to drift apart-
Farther and farther away from each other.
Herbert — with his wife clinging to his arm — saw
his mother's face growing dim in the distance and
lifted his own to the skies. God must doubly keep
her now. His heart seemed breaking, yet not
altogether with soitow. Over the sea^ir his voice
floated in holy song :

'^1

"*V.-

UBRBERT OARDKNELL, JB.

"Oh. what wonder! how ftmsslngl
Jeuus glorious King of kings,

Deigns to call mc Ills beloved,
Lot ...e rest beneath His wlng«.

There ww a tremor in his wife's alto m she
joiner' him,bv t -re was no tremor in the ^

• •. ii ^41. .X afAamPTthat ' n.<i!nb

umr^i^^^ '- &'^'- *® °*^ ''^ steamer that - ft..ght
up tSii^ . ,sitKr« HHK faimg it back.

•' ,v .; ;. J»«iuil »H 'or J«>^«

Kftj, J, ' ow beneath HU wings."

And Raymond, and Eddie, and Gatty joined her

with the two dear ones floating from them-m the

repetition oi the same.

» All for Jesus ! all for Jesus I

Resting now beneath His wings. '

XHB V>SD.

,i«w«iaisri(»s5sa»K<i«»'-

-^'>

m il mi ll .

j's alto as she
nor in the tri-
oer that « ft>.ght

rtngi."

Jatty joined her
m them— in the

irioflk'^

A'^--

x-^-^.