\ «^. V , IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) * A r/i & ^ 1.0 145 I.I ■50 ""^" 2.5 2.2 12.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 41 6" — ► Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 [^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques ■^'C! Technical and Bibliographic Notas/Notas tachniquaa at bibliographiquas Tha Instituta has attamptad to obtain tha bast original copy availabia for filming. Faaturas of this copy which may be bibliographically uniqua. which may altar any of tha imagaa in tha reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. □ Coloured covers/ Couverture da coulaur I — I Covers damaged/ Couverture endommagte □ Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurie et/ou pelliculAe I — I Cover title missing/ D n n La titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes giographiques en couleur □ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bieue ou noire) □ Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur D Bound with other material/ ReliA avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadovws or distortion along interior margin/ La re liure serrde peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de Ea marge intirieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within tha text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouties lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte. mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 filmtes. Additional comments:/ Commentairas supplAmentaires; L'fnstitut a microfilm^ le meilteur axemplaira qu'il lui a itt possible de se procurer. Las details da cat axemplaira qui sont paut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la mithoda normale de filmage sont indiqute ci-dessous. r~| Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur □ Pages damaged/ Pages endommagies I — I Pages restored and/or laminated/ D Pages restauries et/ou peiliculAes Pages discoloured, stained or foxet Pages dicolor^es, tachetdes ou piqudes Pages detached/ Pages ditachies Showthrough/ Transparence Quality of prir Quality inigala de I'impression Includes supplementary materii Comprend du material supplementaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible r~n Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ I I Pages detached/ rri Showthrough/ r~~1 Quality of print varies/ n~| Includes supplementary material/ r~~| Only edition available/ fl 7 8 T b( f't\ re nn Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partieilement obscurcies par un f^uillat d'errata, une peiure, etc., ont 6ti filmies i nouveau de facon d obtenir la meilleure image possible. This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est filmi au taux de rMuction indiquA ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X 1 y 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X Ltt'*-. wmrn '^^:^l "-•n The copy filmed here hes been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: Douglas Library Queen's University L'exemplaire film* fut reproduit grflce 6 la gAnArositA de: Douglas Library Queen's University The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in Iceeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and end!ng on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or Illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol ^^ (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol y (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: 1 2 3 Les images suivantes ont AtA reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetA de l'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est ImprimAe sont filmfo en commen9ant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernlAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'Impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont film6s en commenpant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'Impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la derniAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ► signifie "A SUIVRE". le symbols V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre fiimds d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour §tre reproduit en un seul clichA, il est fiim6 A partir de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n6cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 \^ S.- LUCY RAYMOND. '1^ .■*' MURRAY AND GIBB, EDINBURGH, PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTY'S STATIONERY OFFICE. Lucy Raymond; OR. THE CHILDREN'S WATCHWORD. BY THE AUTHOR OF 'KATIE JOHNSTONE'S CROSS. TORONTO: JAMES CAMPBELL AND SON. '^ ;# o to I? (J h • \ <5 C0N1 OB NT -3 CHAP. - > ^ I. MISS PRESTON'S LAST SUNUAT, ^f II. LUUV'S HOME, . • III. MORE HOME SCENES, • 0^ IV. V. nelly's SUNDAY EVENING, STRAWBERRYING, VI. A MISSION, P VII. TEMPTATIONS, . 2 VIII. PARTINGS, IX. INTRODUCTIONS, X. NEW EXPERIENCES, XI. A START IN LIFE, *•* XII. AMBITION, s) XIII. A FRIENDSHIP, V XIV. AN UNEXPECTED RECOGNITION, D XV. THE FLOWER FADETH, • XVI. DARKNESS AND LIGHT, • ^ XVII. HOME AGAIN, . XVIII. A FAREWELL CHAPTER, • a PAQV 1 12 24 S5 42 54 65 81 96 107 121 136 151 163 174 184 198 207 i a P /r>. m y^ LUCY RAYMOND. I. Ub l9resto«'s "^n&t Snttbag. " Tell me the old, old story Of unseen things above — Of Jesus and His glory, Of Jesus and His love." m HE liglit of a lovely Sabbath afternoon in Juno lay on the rich green woodlands, still bright with the vivid green of early sumin€i:, and sparkled on the broad river, tossed by the breeze into a thousand ripples, that swept past the village of Ashleigh. It would have been oppressively warm, but for the breeze which was swaying the long branches, of the pine-trees around the little church, which from its eleva- tion on the higher ground looked down upon the strag- gling clusters of white houses nestling in their orchards, and gardens that sloped away below. The same breeze, pleasantly laden with the mingled fragrance of the pine& LUCY RAYMOND. H and of the newly-cut hay, fanned the faces of the children, who in pretty little grou])S — the flickering ahadowa of the pines falling on their li^'ht, fluttering summer drcsBcs — were approaching the church, the grave demeanour of a few of the elder ones allowing that their thoughts were already occupied by the pleasant exercises of the Sunday school. Ahmg a quiet, shady path, also leading to the church, a la ly was slowly and thoughtfully walking, on whoso countenance a slight shade of sadness, apparently, contended with happier thoughts. It was Mary Preston's last Sunday in her old home, previous to exchanging it for the new ono to which she had been looking forward so long ; and full as her heart was of thankfulness to God for the blessings IIo had bestowed, she could not take farewell of the Sunday school in which she had taught for several years, without some regret and many misgivings. AYhere, indeed, is the earnest teacher, however faithful, who can lay down the self-imposed task without some such feelings? Has the li^art been in the work ? Have thought and earnestness entered into the weekly instruction? Has a Christian example given force to the precepts mculcated? Above all, has there been earnest, persevering prayer to the Lord of the harvest, in dependence on whom alone the joyful reaping time can be expected ? Such were some of the questions which had been passing through Miss Preston's mind ; and the smile with which she greeted her class as she took her place was a little shadowed by her self-condemning reflections — reflections which her fellow -teachers would have thought quite uncalled for in one who had been the most zealous and JIf/SS PRESTON'S LAST SUNDA Y. c^necicntloua worker in that Sunday school. But Mary rrostou little thought of comparing herself with others. kSlie knew that to wlioni " much is {^dven, of him shall be much required ;** and judging herself by this standard, she felt how little she had rendered to the Lord for His bene- fits to her. As her wistful glance strayed during the open- ing hynm to the faces of her scholars, she could not help wondering what influence the remembrance of what she had tried to teach tliem would exert on their future lives. As her class had been much diminished by recent changes, and in view of her approaching departure the blanks had not been filled up, it consisted on this Sunday of only three girls, of nges varying from twelve to fourteen, bii' differ- ing much in appearance, and still more widely in character and in the circumstances of their lives. Close to Miss Preston, and watching every look of the teacher she loved and grieved at losing, sat Lucy Raymond, the minister's motherless daughter, a slight, delicate- looking girl, with dark hair and bright grey eyes, full of energy and thought, but possessing a good deal of self-will and love of approbation, — dangerous elements of character unless modified and restrained by divine grac^". Next to her sat fair, plump, rosy-cheeked, curly-haired Bessie Ford, from the Mill Bank Farm — an amiable, kind- hearted little damsel, and a favourite with all her com- panions, but careless and thoughtless, with a want of steadiness and moral principle which made her teacher long to see the taking root of the good seed, whose de- velopment might supply what was lacking. Very different from both seemed the third member of LUCY RAYMOND. the class — a forlorn-looking child, who sat shyly apart from the others, shrinking from proximity with their neat, taste- ful summer attire, as if she felt the contrast between her own dress and appearance and that of her school-fellows. Poor Nelly Connor's dingy straw hat and tattered cotton dress, as well as her pale, meagre face, with its bright hazel eyes gleaming from under the tangled brown hair, showed evident signs of poverty and neglect. She was a stranger there, having only recently come to Ashleigh, and had been found wandering about, a Sunday or two before, by Miss Preston, who had coaxed her into the Sunday school, and had kept her in her own class until she should become a little more familiar with scenes so strange and new. Curiosity and wonder seemed at first to absorb all her faculties, and her senses seemed so evidently engrossed with the novelty of what she saw around her, that her teacher could scarcely hope she took in any of the instruc- tion which in the most simple words she tried to impress on her wandering mind. And so very ignorant was she of the most elementary truths of Christianity, that Miss Pres- ton scarcely dared to ask her the simplest question, for fear of drawing towards her the wondering gaze of her more favoured class-mates, who, accustomed from infancy to hear of a Saviour's love and sacrifice for sin, could scarcely comprehend how any child, " Born in Christian lands, And not a heatlien or a Jew," could have grown up to nearly their own age, ignorant of things which were familiar to them as household words. Lucy and Bessie, in their happy ignorance and inexperi- MISS PRESTON'S LAST SUNDA V. encc, little dreamed how many thousands in Christian cities full of stately churches, whose lofty spires seem to proclaim afar the Christianity of the inhabitants, grow up even to manhood and womanhood with as little knowledge of the glorious redemption provided to rescue them from their sin and degradation as if they were sunk in the thickest darkness of heathenism. Strange that congrega- tions of professed followers of Christ, whose consciences will not let them refuse to contribute some small portion of their substance to convey the glad tidings of the gospel to distant lands, will yet, as they seek their comfortable churches, pass calmly by whole districts where so many of their fellow-couutrymen are perishing for lack of that very gospel, without making one personal effort to save them ! Will they not have to give an account for these things ? Nelly Connor's life had for the last two or three years been spent in one of the lowest districts of the city in which her father had fixed his abode after his emigration from the "old sod" to the New World. The horrors of that emigration she could still remember — the overcrowded steerage, where foul air bred the dreaded "ship-fever," and where the moans of the sick and dying weighed down the hearts of those whom the disease had spared. Her two little sisters had died during that dreadful voyage ; and her mother, heart-broken and worn out with fatigue and watch- ing, only lived to reach land and die in the nearest hospital. An elder brother, who was to have accompanied them, had by some accident lost his passage ; and though he had, they supposed, followed them in the next ship that sailed, they never discovered any further tiace of him. So, when LUCY RAYMOND. Nelly's father had followed his wife to the grave in the poor cofBn he had with difficulty provided for her, he and his daughter were all that remained of the family which had set out from their dear Irish home, hoping, in the strange land they sought, to lay the foundation of happier fortunes. They led an uncomfortable, unsettled life for a year or two after that, exchanging one miserable lodging for another — rarely for the better. The father obtained an uncertain employment as a deck hand on a steamboat during the summer, subsisting as best he could on odd jobs during the winter, and too often drowning his sorrows and cares in the tempting but fatal cup. Poor Nelly, left without any care or teaching, soon forgot all she had ever learned ; and running wild with the neglected children around her, became, as might have been expected, a little street Arab, full of shrewd, quick observation, and utter aversion to restraint of any kind. Suddenly, to Nelly's consternation, her father brought home a second wife, a comrade's widow, with two or three young children. In the new household Nelly was at once expected to take the place of nurse and general drudge, a part for which her habits of unrestrained freedom and idleness had thoroughly disqualified her; and the results were what might have been expected. There was a good deal of heedlessness and neglect on Nelly's part, and nearly constant scolding on that of her new mother. And as the latter was neither patient nor judicious, and was, moreover, unreasonable in what she demanded from the child, there was many a conflict ending in sharp blows, the physical MISS PRESTON'S LAST SUNDA Y. p: , of which was notliing in comparison with the sense of iiijury and oppression left on the child's mind. But she had no redress; for her father being so much away from his home, had no opportunity of opposing, as he would probably have done, his wife's severe method of "managing" his motherless child. Things were in this condition when Mrs. Connor, who had formerly belonged to Ashleigh, made up her mind to remove thither, in the expectation both of living more cheaply, and of being able, among her old acquaintances, to find more work to eke out her uncertain means of living. Her husband was now working on a steamboat which passed up and down the river on which Ashleigh was situated, so that he could not seo his family as often as before. They were now settled in a small, rather dilapi- dated tenement, with a potato patch and pig-sty ; and Mrs. Connor, who was an energetic woman, had already suc- ceeded in making her family almost independent of the earnings which Michael Connor too often spent in the public-house. This being the case, she had no scruples in providing for her own children, without much con- sideration for Nelly ; so that the poor child was a forlorn- looking object when IMiss Preston had found her hovering wistfully about, attracted by the sight of the children streaming towards the church, and had induced her to come, for the first time in her life, into a Sunday school. And now, with these three girls before her, differing so much in circumstances and culture, it was no wonder that Miss Preston should feel it a matter for earnest considera- tion what parting words she should say, which, even if 8 LUCY RA YMOND. unappreciated at the time, might afterwards come back to their minds, associated with the remembrance of a teacher they had loved, to help them in the conflict between good and evil which must have its place in their future lives. But she felt she could not possibly do better, in bidding farewell to her young pupils, than to direct them to Him who would never leave nor forsake them, — who was nearer, wiser, tenderer, than any earthly friend, — who, if they would trust themselves to Him, would guide them into all truth, and in His own way of peace. She had brought them each, as a little parting remem- brancer, a pretty gift-card, bearing on one side the illumi- nated motto, " Looking unto Jesus," a text the blessed influence of which she herself had long experimentally known. And in words so simple as for the most part to reach even little Nelly's comprehension, she spoke earnestly of the loving Saviour to whom they were to "look," — of that wonderful life which, opening in the lowly manger of Bethlehem, and growing quietly to maturity in the green valleys of Nazareth, reached its full development in those unparalleled three years of " going about doing good," healing, teaching, warning, rebuking, comforting; not disdaining to stop and bless the little children, and at last dymg to atone for our sins. She explained to them, that although withdrawn from our earthly sight, He was as really near to them now as He had been to those Jewish children eighteen hundred years ago; that their lowest whisper could reach Him; that if they would but ask Him, He would be their truest Friend, ever at their side to help them to do right and '■*'■ MISS PRESTON'S LAST SUNDA K 9 resist temptation, to comfort them in sorrow and sweeten their joy. Her earnest tone and manner, even more than her words, impressed the children, and fixed even Nelly Connor's bright hazel eyes in a wondering gaze. It was very new and strange to her to hear about the mysterious, invisible Friend who was so loving and kind ; the idea of a friend of any kind being novel to the lonely, motherless child, more accustomed to harsh, unsparing reproof than to any other language. Miss Preston, glad to see at least that her interest was excited, was fain to leave the germs of truth to take root and develope in her mind, under the silent influence of the divine Husbandman. " Now, my dear children," she said in conclusion, "whenever you are tempted to be careless or unfaithful in duty, to think that it doesn't matter because no one will know, remember that your Saviour knows, — that whatever the duty before you may be, you have to do it * as to the Lord, and not unto men.' Whenever you are tempted to get tired of trying to do right and resist temptation, or when you may feel sad for your sinfulness and unworthi- ness, think of the text I am leaving you, ' Looking unto Jesus.' And if you really and earnestly look to Him, you will always find help, and strength, and guidance, and comfort." On the reverse side of the illuminated card she had brought for her class was printed, in clear, distinct characters, the hymn, " I lay my sins on Jesus, The spotless Lamb of God ; He bears them all, and frees ub From the accursed load. 10 LUCY RA YMOND. " I lay my wants on Jesus, I All fulness dwells in Him; ^ He heals all my diseases, He doth my soul redeem." As Nelly could not read, Miss Preston made her say these verses several times after her ; and as she had a quick ear and a facility for learning by heart, she could soon repeat them. That she could not understand them at present, her teacher knew ; but she thought it something gained that the words at least should linger in her memory till their meaning should dawn upon her heart. Then, telling Nelly she must take care of her pretty card, and try to learn to read it for herself, she bade her class an affec- tionate farewell, trusting that the Friend of whom she had been teaching them would care for them when she could not. " m leifim nia hymn, miss, and try to learn to read it, if anybody '11 teach me," said Nelly, her bright brown eyes sparkling through tears, for her warm Irish heart had been touched by the kind words and tones of her teacher, whom she expected never to see again. Bessy Ford's sunshiny face also looked unusually sorrow- ful, and Lucy Raymond's trembling lip bespoke a deeper emotion, with difficulty repressed. " I shall see you again, Lucy," Miss Preston said, with a smile, as she afifectionately detained her a moment, for Lucy had been invited to be present at her teacher's mar- riage, at which her father was to officiate. Lucy and Bessie walked away together, the former with her first experience of a *^last time'''* weighing on her mind and spirits; and Nelly Connor slowly stole away among the trees toward the spot she called her " home." H MISS PRESTON'S LAST SUNDA Y. II Bessie's momentary sadness quickly vanished as she engaged in a brisk conversation with another girl about her own age, who was eager to gossip about Miss Preston's approaching marriage, where she was going, and what she was to wear. Lucy drew off from her companion as soon as Nancy Parker joined them, partly from a real desire of thinking quietly of her teacher's parting words, partly in proud disdain of Bessie's frivolity. " How can she go on so," she thought, " after what Miss Preston has been say- ing?" But she forgot that disdain is as far removed from the spirit of the loving and pitying Saviour as even the frivolity she despised. " Come, Lucy, don't be so stifp," said Nancy as they approached the shady gate of the white house where Mr. Raymond lived; "can't you tell us something, about the wedding? You're going, aren't you?" Nancy's pert, familiar tones grated upon Lucy's ear with unusual harshness, and she replied, rather haughtily, that she knew scarcely anything about it. " Oh, no doubt you think yourself very grand," Nancy rejoined, " but I can find out all about it from my aunt, and no thanks to you. Come on, Bessie." Bessie, somewhat ashamed of her companion, and instinctively conscious of Lucy's disapproval, stopped at the gate to exchange a good-bye with her friend, who for the moment was not very cordial. Thus Miss Preston and her class had separated, and future days alone could reveal what had become of the seed she had tried to sow. II. " Is the heart a living power ? Self-entwined, its strength sinks low ; It can only live in loving, And by serving, love will grow." ^S Lucy passed in under the acacias which shaded the gate, she was met by a pretty, graceful- looking girl about her own age, who, with her golden hair floating on her shoulders and her hat swinging listlessly in her hand, was wandering through the shrubbery. " Why, Lucy," she exclaimed, " what a time you have been away ! I've tried everything I could think of to pass the time ; looked over all your books, and couldn't find a nice one I hadn't read ; teased Alick and Fred till they went off for peace, and pussy till she scratched my arm. Just look there ! " But Lucy's mind had been too much absorbed to descend at once to the level of her cousin's trifling tone ; and having 12 LUCY'S HOME. II beon vexed previously at her refusal to accompany her to Sunday school, she now regretted exceedingly that Stella had not been present to hear Miss Preston^s earnest words. " Oh, Stella," she said enger'y, " I do so wish you had been with me ! If you had only heard what Miss Preston said to us, it would have done you good all your life." " "Well, you know I don't worship Miss Preston," replied Stella, always ready to tease, " she looks so demure. And as for dressing, why, Ada and Sophy wouldn't be seen out in the morning in tliat common -looking muslin she wore to church." "Oh, Stella, how can you go on so ?" exclaimed Lucy impatiently. " If you only had something better to think of, you wouldn't talk as if you thought dress the one thing needful." " That's a quotation from one of Uncle Raymond's ser- mons, isn't it? " rejoined Stella aggravatiiigly. Lucy drew her arm away from her cousin's and walked off alone to the house, obliged to hear Stella's closing remark: ""Well, I'm glad /didn't go to Sunday school if it makes people come home cross and sulky !" And then, unconscious of the sting her words had implanted, Stella turned to meet little Harry, who was bounding home in his highest spirits. Lucy slowly found her way to her own room, her especial sanctuary, where she had a good deal of pleasure in keeping her various possessions neatly arranged. At present it was shared by her young visitor, whose careless, disorderly ways were a considerable drawback to the pleasure so long 14 LUCY RAYMOND. anticipated of having a companion of her own age. Just now her eye fell at once on her ransacked bookcase all in confusion, with the books scattered about the room. It was a trifle, but trifles are magnified when the temper is already discomposed ; and throwing down her gloves and Bible, she hastily proceeded to rearrange them, feeling rather unamiably towards her cousin. But as she turned back from the completed task, her card with its motto met her eye, like a gentle reproof to her ruffled spirit — " Looking unto Jesus." Had she not forgotten that already ? She had come home enthusiastic — full of an ideal life she was to live, an example and influ- ence for good to all around her. But, mingled in her aspirations, there was an unconscious desire for pre-emi- nence and an insidious self-complacency — "little foxes" that will spoil the best grapes. She had to learn that God will not be served with unhallowed fire ; that the heart must be freed from pride and self-seeking before it can be fit for the pervice of the sanctuary. Already she knew she had been impatient and unconciliatory, contemptuous to poor ill- trained Nancy, whose home influences were very unfavour- able ; and now, by her hastiness towards her cousin, whom she had been so anxious to influence for good, she had probably disgusted her with the things in which she most wanted to interest her. She did not turn away, however, from the lights con- science brought to her. Nurtured in a happy Christian home, under the watchful eye of the loving father whose care had to a great extent supplied the want of the mother she could scarcely remember, she <^uld not have specified LUCY'S HOME, 15 the time when she first began to look upon Christ as her Saviour, and to feel herself bound to live unto //iw, and not to herself. But her teacher's words had given her a new impulse — a more definite realization of the strength by which the Christian life was to be lived — " Tlie mind to blend with outward life, Whllo keeping at Thy side." Humbled by her failure, she honestly confessed it, and asked for more of the strength which every earnest seeker shall receive. With a much lighter heart and clearer brow, Lucy went to rejoin Stella, whom she found amusing herself with Harry and his rabbits, having forgotten all about Lucy's hastiness. Lucy seated herself on the grass beside them, joining readily in the admiration with which Stella, no less than Harry, was caressing the soft, white, downy creature with pink eyes, which was her brother's latest acquisition. *' I want him to call it Blanche — such a pretty name, isn't it, Lucy ? " said Stella. "I won't," declared the perverse Harry, "because I don't like it;" and so saying, he rushed off to join "the boys," as he called them. "What have you got there? "asked Stella, holding out her hand for Lucy's card, which she had brought down. "Yes, it's pretty, but Sophy does much prettier ones; you should see some lovely ones she has done ! " " Has she?" asked Lucy with interest, — thinking Stella's sister must care more for the Bible than she herself did, if she painted illuminated texts. " I was going to tell you this was what Miss Preston was speaking to us about." ^ i6 LUCY RA YMOND. *^ I Jon't see that she could say much about that, it's so short. I don^t see what it means ; Jesus is in Leaven now, and we can't see Him/' " Oh, but," exclaimed Lucy eagerly, overcoming her shy reluctance to speak, " He is always near, though wo can't see Him, and is ready to help us when we do right, and grieved and displeased when we do wrong. I forget that myself, Stella," she added with an effort, " or I shouldn't have been so cross when I came home." Stella had already forgotten all about that, nnd I'Al a little uncomfortable at her cousin's entering on aubjects which she had been accustomed to consider were to be confined to the pulpit, or at any rate were above her com- prehension. She believed, of course, in a general way, that Christ had died for sinners, as she had often heard in church, and that in some vague way she was to be saved and taken to heaven, when she should be obliged to leave this world ; but It aad never occurred to her that the salva- tion of which tibe had been told was to influence her life now^ or awaken any love from her in response to the great love which had been shown toward her. Not daring to reply, she glanced listlessly over the hymn on the card, but took up none of its meaning. She had never been conscious of any heavy burden of sin to be " laid on Jesua." Petted and praised at home for her beauty and lively winning ways, her faults overlooked and ht. ^'ool qualities exagge- rated, she had no idea of the evil .■^''t iiy .'udeveloj^vod in her nature, shutting out from her heart the love of the meek and lowly Jesus. She could scarcely feel her need of strength for a warfare on which she bad never entered; 1 1 T.UCY'S HOME, af and Lucy's woril ppoken out of the realizing experience she had already had, wef to her incomprehensible. She was a gouu deal relieved when the tea-bell rang, and Lucy's two brothers, Fi'd and Harry, witJi her tall cousin Alick Steele, joined them as they obeyed the summons to the cool, pleasant dining-room, where Alick's mother, Mr. Raymond's sister, who had superintended his family since Mrs. Raymond's death, was already seated at the tea-table. Her quiet, gentle face, in the plain widow's cap, greeted them with a smile, brightening with a mother's pride and pleasure as she glanced towards her son Alick, just now spending a brief holiday at Ashleigh on the completion of his medical studies. He was a handsome high-spirited youth, affectionate, candiJ, and full of energy, though as yet his mother grieved at his carelessness as to the *' better part" which she longed to see him choose. He had always spent his vacations at Ashleigh, and was such a favourite that his visits were looked forward to as the pleasantest events of the year. "Girls," said Alick, "I saw such quantities of straw- berries this afternoon." " Where ?" interrupted Harry eagerly. ** Was anybody speaking to you ? " asked his cousin, laughing. *' But I'll tell you if you won't go and eat them all up. Over on the edge of the woods by Mill Bank Farm. I could soon have filled a basket if I had had one, £nd if mother wouldn't have said it was Sabbath-breaking!" " Alick, my boy," said his mother gravely, " you mustn't talk so thoughtlessly. What would your uncle say ? " " He'd say it was a pity so good a mother hadn't a better i8 LUCY RAYMOND. son. But never mind, mother dear, you'll see I'll come all right yet. As for these strawberries, Lucy, I vote we have a strawberry picnic, and give Stella a taste of real country life. They'll give us cream at the farm, and the Fords would join us." Stella looked a little of the surprise she felt at the idea of the farmer's children being added to the party, but she did not venture to say anything, as Alick was by no means sparing in bringing his powers of raillery to bear on what he called her " town airs and graces." " Well, you needn't make all the arrangements to-night," interposed Mrs. Steele ; " you know your uncle doesn't like Sunday planning of amusements." And just then Mr. Raymond entered the room, his grave, quiet face, solemnized by the thoughts with which he had been engrossed, exercising an unconsciously subduing influ- ence over the lively juniors. Mr. Raymond never frowned upon innocent joyousness, and even the boisterous little Harry was never afraid of his father ; yet there was about him a certain realization of the great truths he preached, which checked any approach to levity in his presence, and impressed even the moKSt thoughtless ; although, not tracing it to its real source, they generally set it down simply to his " being a clergyman." His children looked up to him with devoted aifection and deep reverence ; even Stella could not help feeling that her uncle must be a very good man ; and to Alick, who undor all his nonsense had a strong appre- ciation of practical religion, he was the embodiment of Christian excellence. "Well, Stella," said her uncle, turning kindly to his ' r ' t XI LUCY'S HOME. 19 niece, "I hope you had a pleasant afternoon. I suppose our little Sunday school looks very small after the great city ones." " "We never go to Sunday school at home, uncle," said Stella, with one of her winning smiles ; " there are so many common children." " Oh, indeed !" exclaimed Alick, seizing the opportunity * of putting down Stella's airs. " Why don't you get up a select one, then, attended only by young ladies of the best families ? " Stella coloured at the sarcastic tone, but Mr. Raymond only said kindly, " Did you ever think, my dear child, how many of these poor common children, as you call them, you will have ta meet in heaven ? " It was certainly a new idea to Stella, and made her feel rather uncomfortable ; indeed she never cared much to think about heaven, of which her ideas were the vaguest possible. As they went to evening service, Alick did not omit to rally Stella on her want of candour in leaving her uncle under the impression that she had been at Sunday school that afternoon. " Why, Alick ! " she exclaimed in surprise, " I didn't say I had been at Sunday school. If Uncle Raymond supposed so, it wasn't my fault." " Only, you answered him as if his supposition was cor- rect. I have always understood that intentionally confirm- ing a false impression was at least the next thing to telling a story." •' Well, I'm sure Stellit didn't think of that," interposed 20 LUCY RAYMOND. Lucy good-naturedly, noticing the rising colour of vexa- tion .on Stella's countenance. " How tiresome they all are here ! " thought Stella ; "always finding out harm in things. I'm sure it wasn't my business to tell Uncle "William I hadn't been at Sun- day school. Sophy and Ada often tell the housemaid to say they are not at home when they are, and don't think it any harm. What would AHck say to that ? " By one of those coincidences which sometimes happen — sent, we may be sure, in God's providence — Mr. Raymond took for his text that evening the words, " Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith." The coin- cidence startled Lucy, and made her listen with more than ordinary attention to her father's sermon, though, to do her justice, she was not usually either sleepy or inattentive. Mr. Raymond began by alluding to the *' race set before us," which the apostle had spoken of in the previous verse, — the race which all who will follow Christ must know, but only in the strength He will supply. The young and strong might think themselves suflBcient for it, but the stern ex- perience of life would soon teach them that it must be often run with a heavy heart and weary feet; that "even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men utterly fall ; " and that it is only they who wait on the Lord, " looking unto Jesus," who shall " mount up on wings as eagles," who shall " run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint." Then he spoke of the Helper ever near — the " dear Jesus ever at our side," in looking to whom in faith and prayer, not trying to walk in our own strength, we may get LUCY'S HOME. 21 " the dally strength, To none who ask denied,"— the strength to overcome temptation and conquer sloth, and do whatever work He gives us to do. Something, too, he said of what that work is : First, the faithful discharge of daily duty, whatever its nature ; then the more volun- tary work for Christ and our fellow-men with which the corners of the busiest life may be filled up — the weak and weary to be helped, the mourner to be sympathized with, the erring brother or sister to be sought out and brought back, the cup of cold water to be given for Christ's sake, which should not lose its reward. He ended by speaking of the grounds on which Jesus is the " author and finisher of our faith," the great salvation won by Him for us on the cross, — a salvation to be entered upon now, so that during this life we may begin that glorious eternal life which is to go on for ever. Then he besought his hearers, by the greatness of that love which had prompted the infinite sacrifice, by the endurance of that mysterious depth of suffering which the Son of God bore for men, that He might " save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him," to come at once to have their sins washed away in the Kedeemer's blood, which alone could " purge their consciences from dead works to serve the living God." Many and many a time during Lucy's after-life did the words of that sermon come back to her mind, associated with her father's earnest, solemn tones, with the peaceful beauty of that summer Sabbath evening — with the old church, its high seats and pulpit and time-stained walls. 22 LUCY RAYMOND. and the old familiar faces whom all her life she had been wont to see, Sunday after Sunday, in the same familiar seats. And what of the others ? Bessie Ford, too, had noticed the coincidence, and had listened to the sermon as atten- tively as a somewhat volatile mind would allow her, and had gathered from it more than she could have put into conscious thought, though it was destined to bring forth fruit. And far back, in a dusky comer of the little gallery, gleaned the bright brown eyes of little Nelly, who had ventured back to the church, and, hearing the familiar sound of the text, listened intently and picked up some things which, though only half understood, yet awakened the chords which had been already touched to a trembling response. Even little Harry in some measure abstained from indulg- ing in his ordinary train of meditation during church-time, consisting chiefly of planning fishing excursions and games for the holidays. How many older and wiser heads are prone to the same kind of reverie, and could not have given a better account of "papa's sermon" than he was usually able to do ! Fred, the quiet student, listened with kindling eye and deep enthusiasm to his father's earnest exposition of the divine truth which had already penetrated his own mind and heart ; and Alick heard it with a reverent admiration for the beautiful gospel which could prompt such noble sentiments, and with a vague determi- nation that " some time" he would think about it in earnest. Stella alone, of all the young group, carried away nothing LUCY'S HOME. 23 of the precious truth which had been sounding in her ears. She had gone to church merely as a matter of form, with- out any expectation of receiving a blessing there ; and during the service her wandering eyes had been employed in taking a mental inventory of the various odd and old- fashioned costumes that she saw around her, to serve for her sister's amusement when she should return home. It is thus that the evil one often takes away the good seed before it has sunk into our hearts. Stella would have been sur- prised had it been suggested to her that the words of the last hymn, which rose sweetly through the church in the soft summer twilight, could possibly apply to her that evenmg : •' If some poor wandering child of thine Have spurned to-day the voice divine, Now, Lord, the gracions worlc begin ; Let him no more lie down in sin! " III. " Tell me the story often, For I forgot so soon ; The early dew of morning Has passed away at noon." HEN Bessie Ford parted from Lucy at the gate, she had still a long walk before reaching home. Mill Bank Farm was a good mile and a half from the village if you went by the road, but Bessie shortened it very considerably by striking across the fields a little way beyond the village. There were one or two fences to climb, but Bessie did not mind that any more than she minded the placid cows browsing in the pasture through which her way led. The breezy meadows, white with ox-eye daisies, and in some places yellow with buttercups, with the blue river flowing rapidly past on one side, afforded a pleasant walk at any time, and the rest of the way was still prettier. Just within the boundary of Mill Bank Farm the ground ascended slightly, and then descended into a narrow glen or ravine, with 24 MORE HOME SCENES. 25 '\ steep, rocky sides luxuriantly draped with velvet moss and waving ferns, while along the bottom of it a little stream flowed quietly enough towards the river, though a little higher up it came foaming and dashing down the rocks and turned a small saw-mill on the farm. The sides of the ravine were shady with hemlocks, spreading their long, waving boughs over the rocks, with whose dark, solemn foliage maples and birches contrasted their fresh vivid green. In spring, what a place it was for wild flowers! — as Lucy Raymond and her brothers well knew, having often brought home thence great bunches of dielytras and con- vallarias and orchises ; and at any time some bright blos- soms were generally to be found gleaming through the shade. Bessie, however, did not linger now to look for them, but picking her way across the stepping-stones which lay in the bed of the stream, she quickly climbed the opposite bank by a natural pathway which wound up among the rocks — easily found by her accustomed feet — and passing through the piece of woodland that lay on the other side, came out on the sunny expanse of meadows and corn-fields, in the midst of which stood the neat white farmhouse, with its little array of farm buildings, and the fine old butternut tree, under the shade of which Mrs. Ford sat milking her sleek, gentle cows, little Jenny and Jack sitting on the ground beside her. The instant that they espied their sister coming through the fields, they dashed off at the top of their speed to see who should reach her first, and were soon trotting along by her side, confiding to her their afternoon's adventures, and how Jack had found nine eggs 26 LUCY RA YMOND. in an unsuspected nest in the barn, but bad broken tbree in carrying them in. "But me wouldn't have," insisted Jack sturdily, *'if Jenny hadn't knocked up against me." " Oh, Jack ! Now you know I only touched you the least little bit," retorted the aggrieved Jenny. " Well, don't jump up and down so, or I will let go your band," said Bessie. " You almost pull my arm off! I wish you could see how quietly little Mary Thomson sits in Sunday school, and she is no bigger than you." "Why can't I go to Sunday school, then?" demanded Jenny ; "I'd be quiet too." " And me too !" vociferated Jack ; the circumstance that they were not considered old enough yet to go to Sunday school giving it a wonderful charm in their eyes. Then, as they set off again on another race toward their mother, it occurred to Bessie for the first time that these little ones were quite old enough to learn the things that other little children learned at Sunday school, and that although they were not strong enough for the long walk, and her mother's time and thoughts were always so fully engrossed with the round of domestic duties, slie might easily find time to teach her little brother and sister as much as they could understand about the Saviour, who had died that they might be made good, and who when on earth had blessed little children. Something Miss Preston had said about home duties — about helping to teach and guide the little brothers and sisters — now recurred to her mind, and con- science told her that these duties she had hitherto failed of performing. She had never herself really taken Christ for MORE HOME SCENES. 27 licr own Saviour and Guide, although she often teit a vague wish that she were " good," and the desire of pleasing Christ entered but little, if at all, into the motives and actions of her daily life. But she generally knew what was right, and occasionally, while the impulse from some good influence was still fresh, would try to do it. *' I know Miss Preston would say I ought to teach Jenny and Jack some verses and hymns on Sunday," she thought. " I'll begin to-night, when mother and the boys are gone to church;" for a certain shyness about seeming "good" made her wish to begin her teaching without witnesses. " Here, Bessie," said Mrs. Ford as Bessie approached, " do run and get the tea ready — there's a good girl. I shan't be through yet for half an hour, for I've the calves to see to ; and your father and the boys '11 be in from watering the horses, and if we don't get tea soon they'll be late for church." Bessie went in to change her dress, with her usually good-humoured face contracted into a dissatisfied expres- sion. She was tired ; it would have been nice to sit down and read her Sunday-school book till tea-time. But of course nothing could be said ; so she hurriedly pulled off her walking things, grumbling a little in her own mind at the difference between her own lot and that of Lucy Raymond, who, she felt sure, had none of these tiresome things to do. She had never thought — what, indeed, older people often lose sight of — that God so arranges the work of all His children who will do what He gives them to do, that while some may seem to have more leisure than others, all have their appointed work, of the kind best suited to discipline, /^ 38 LUCY RA YMOND. and fit them for the higher sphere of nobler work, in which will probably bo fouLd much of the blessedness of eternity. Before Bessie went down to her unwelcome task, she recollected that she must put her pretty card safe out of the children's way ; so with a strong pin she fastened it up securely on the wall, on which it formed a tasteful decora- tion. As she did so, tlie motto brought back to her memory what Miss Preston had said about " looking imto Jesus " in every time of temptation, great or small, as well when inclined to be discontented or impatient, as in greater emergencies. The evil principle in her natuie rose against her doing so now, but the other power was str':)iger ; and perhaps for the first time in her life, though sha regularly " said her prayers," Bessie reallj' :.oked Jesus to help her to be more like Himself. Then with a new, strange happiness in her heart, that was at once the result of her self-conquest and the answer to her prayer, she ran down cheerfully to do her work, singing in a low tone tho first verse of her hymn: " I long to be like Jesus, Meek, loving, lowly, mild; I long to be like Jesus, The Father's holy child." Jenny and Jack came running in to help her — small assistants, whom it required a good deal of patience to manage, neither allowing them to hurt themselves or any- thing else, nor driving them into a fit of screaming by despotically thwarting their good intentions; and Bessie's patience was not always equal to the ordeal. But on this occasion Mrs. Ford was left to pursue her dairy avocations in peace, without being called by Jack's screams to settle MORE HOME SCENES, 39 some fierce dispute between him and his sister, whoso inter- ferenco was not always very judiciously applied. The tea was soon ready, — not, however, before Mr. Ford and his two eldest boys had come in, accompanied by Bessie's younger brother Sam, next in age to herself, who ought to have been at Sunday school, but had managed to escape going, as he often did. His mother being on Sundays, as on other days, " cumbered with much serving," and his sister generally remaining with some of her friends in the village during the interval between the morning service and Sunday school, it was comparatively easy for Master Sam to play truant, as indeed he sometimes did from the day school, where his chances of punishment wero much greater, Mr. Ford being far more alive to the advantages of a " good education" than to the need of the knowledge which " maketh wise unto salvation." So that, when Bessie began her usual " Why, Sam, you weren't at Sunday school !" Sam had some plausible excuse all ready, the ingenuity of which would amuse his father so much as to lead him to overlook the offence. " Well, Bessie," her mother exclaimed when they were all seated, "I really believe you haven't fprgotten any- thing, for once. I should not wonder if you were to turn out a decent housekeeper yet." For it was Mrs. Ford's great complaint of Bessie, that she was so " heedless " and " needed so much minding," though she would always add, modifying her censure, " But then you can't put an old head on young shoulders, and the child has a real good hearty And being a thoroughly active and diligent housekeeper, she generally found it less 30 LUCY RAYMOND. trouble to supply Bessie's shortcoiniii^^s herself, so that Bessie'a homo education was likely to suffer by her mother's very proficiency, unless she should come to see that to do all things well was a duty she owed " unto tho Lord, and not unto men." " So, Bessie, you're going to lose your teacher? " said her father. " I hear she's to be married on Thursday." " Yes, father, she bade us all good-bye to-day ; and she gave us such pretty cards, mother, with a text and a hymn ; " and on the mipulse of the moment she ran up for hers, and brought it down for inspection. It was handed round the table, eliciting various admiring comments, and exciting Jack's desire to get it into his own hands, which being thwarted, he was with difficulty consoled by an extra suppy of bread and butter. " And, mother," asked Bessie, somewhat doubtfully, *' may I go to-morrow and get the things to work a book- mark for Miss Preston ? I'd like to do it for a new Bible the teachers are going to give her." " I don't care," said Mrs. Ford, " if you'll only not neglect everything else while you're doing it. I don't believe in girls fiddling away their time with such things, and not knowing how to make good cheese and butter. But I wouldn't hinder you from making a present to Miss Preston, for she has been a good teacher to you." Bessie looked delighted, but the expression quickly changed when her mother said, as they rose from table, " Bessie, I guess I'll not go to church to-night. I've had so much to do that I feel tired out ; and if I did go, I'm sure I'd just go to sleep. Besides, I don't like the way tho MORE HOME SCENES. 31 (liiu cow is looking ; so you'd better get ready and go with fallier and the boys." Now Bessie had expected to remain at liomo that even- ing, OS she usually did. She had planned to teach the childrcu for a while, according to her new resolution, and then, when they had gone to bed, to sit down to read her Sunday-school book, which seemed unusually inviting. Bessie's Sunday reading was generally confined to her Sunday-school book, for she had not yet learned to lovo to read the Bible, and regarded it rather as a lesson-book than as the spiritual food which those who know it truly find " sweeter than honey " to their taste. So it was not a very pleasant prospect to have to hurry off to church again, and she felt very much inclined to make tho most of tho slight fatigue she felt, and say she was too tired to go, in which case her mother would have willingly assented to her remaining. But conscience told her she was able to go, and ought to go ; and remembering her motto and her prayer, she cheerfully prepared to accompany her father and brothers to church, and she had reason to be grateful for her choice. The words of tho sermon deepened and ex- panded the impressions of the afternoon, and left an abid- ing influence on the current of her life. When Mrs. Ford had got through her evening duties, and the little ones were hushed in sound slumber, she sat down near the open window to rest, her eye falling, as she did so, on Bessie's card. The motto upon it carried her thoughts away to the time when, as a newly-married wife, she had listened to a sermon on that very text, — a time when, rejoicing in the happiness of her new life, she 32 LUCY RAYMOND. had felt her heart beat with gratitude to Him who had so freely given her all things, and with a sincere desire to live to His glory. How had the desire been carried out ? A very busy life hers had been, and still was. The in- numerable cares and duties of her family and farm and dairy had filled it with never-ceasing active occupations, as was natural and right ; but was it right that these occu- pations should have so crowded out the very principle that would have given a holy harmony to her life, and been a fountain of strength to meet the cares and worries that will fret the stream of the most prosperous course? Sacred words, learned in her childhood, recurred to her mind: "And the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things, entering in, choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful." Had not that been her own experience ? "Where were the fruits that might have been expected from "the word" in her? — the Christian influence and training which might have made her house- hold what a Christian household ought to be ? Had not the " cares of this world" been made the chief concern — the physical and material well-being of her family made far more prominent than the development of a life hid with Christ in God? Had not the very smoothness and prosperity of her life, and her self-complacency in her own good management, been a snare to her? Her husband, good and kind as he was, was, she knew, wholly engrossed with the things of this life ; and her boys — steadier, she often thought with pride, than half the boys of the neigh- bourhood — had never yet been made to feel that they were not their own, but bought with the price of a Saviour's f ( \ i aiojRe home scenes. 33 blood. Such higher knowledge as Bessie had was due to Miss Preston, for, like many mothers, she had not scrupled to devolve her own responsibilities on the Sunday-school teachers, and thought her duty done when she had seen her children, neatly dressed, set off to school on Sunday after- noon. And the little ones she had just left asleep — had she earnestly commended them to the Lord, and tried to teach them such simple truths about their Saviour as their infant minds could receive ? All these thoughts came crowding into her mind, as they sometimes will when the voice of the Spirit can find an entrance into our usually closed hearts; and she shrank from the thought of the account she should have to give of the responsibilities abused, the trust unfulfilled. Hapi)ily, she did net forget that " if we confess our sins. He is faith- ful and just to forgive us our sins ; " and that quiet hour of meditation, and confession, and humble resolve was one of the most profitable seasons Mrs. Ford had ever known. For God, unlike man, can work without as well as with outward instrumentality. When the others returned from church, it was with some surprise that Mrs. Ford heard from Bessie the words of the text. " I heard Mr. Raymond preach from that same text long ago, just after we were married, John," she said. " Well, if you remember it, it's more than I Jo. But if he did preach the same sermon over again, it is well worth hearing twice." " Yes, indeed," said his wife. " I wish I had minded it better. It would have been better for us all if we hud. C 34 LUCY RAYMOND. Bessie, arc you too tired to read a chapter as soon as the boys come in ? We don't any of us read the Bible enough, I'm afraid." And Bessie, struck by something unusual in her mother's tone and manner, cheerfully read aloud, at Mrs. Ford's re- quest, the thirteenth of Matthew and the tenth of Hebrews, although the tempting Sunday-school book still lay unread on the table up-stairs. as the lOugh, )ther's i's re- )rews, nread IV. It^IIg's ^unba^ ^bmmQ» " Oh, say not, dream not, heavenly notes To childish ears are vain, — That the young mind at random floats, And cannot catch the strain." [N the meantime let us go back to Nelly Connor, and see how she spent her Sunday afternoon. When she bad wistfully watched the last of the groups of children disappearing in the distance, she walked slowly away toward her "home" — a dilapidated-looking cottage in a potato patch, enclosed by a broken-down fence, patched up by Nelly and her new mother with old barrel-staves and branches of trees. The out- door work which fell to her lot Nelly did not so much dislike. It was the nursing of a screaming baby, or scrub- bing dingy, broken boards — work often imposed upon her — which sorely tried her childish strength and patience. Nelly found the house deserted. Sunday being Mrs. Connor's idle day, she usually went to visit some of her friends in the village, taking her children with her. A 35 rSl LUCY RAYMOND. piece of bread and a mug of sour milk on the tabic were all that betokened any preparation for Nelly's supper ; but she was glad enough to miss the harsh scolding tones that were her usual welcome home. Nelly sat down on the doorstep to eat her crust, watch- ing, as she did so, a little bird which was bringing their evening meal to its chirping little ones in a straggling old plum-tree near the house. For in animal life there is no such discord as sin introduces into human life, marring the beauty of God's arrangements for His creatures' happiness. Then, having nothing to keep her at home, she took up her dingy, tattered straw hat, and strolled slowly along towards the village, keeping to the shady lanes on its outskirts till she came out upon the fields across which Bessie had taken her way home. On her way she passed Mr. Raymond's pretty shrubbery, and stood for a while quite still by the white railings, look- ing at the group within— Lucy and her cousin sitting under the trees on the green turf, with Harry and the rabbit close beside them. Nelly thought she had never seen anything so pretty as Stella, with her rose-leaf complexion and sunny golden hair. The two might have served a painter for a contrast, both as to externals and as to the effect of the surrounding influences which mould human life : the one, from her cradle so tenderly and luxuriously nurtured, petted, and caressed ; the other, accustomed from her earliest years to privation and hardship, to harsh tones and wicked words, to all the evil influences which surround a child left to pick up its education on the city streets. Strange mystery of the "election of circumstances!" — one of the I NELLY'S SUNDA V EVENING. 37 strangest in our mystery -surrounded life, never to bo cleared up till all crooked things shall be made straight. Only let the privileged ones, whoso lines have fallen in pleasant places, remember that " to whom much is given, of them nmch shall be required." A forlorn little figure Nelly looked as she strolled along the field-paths which Bessie had taken an hour before. But she did not trouble herself much about externals, except when in company with others whose better attire made her painfully conscious of the defects in her own; and being of a nature open to every impression from sur- rounding objects, she was at that moment far from being an unhappy child. It was not often that she was com- pletely free to wander at will ; and the fresh breezy fields, the sweet scents of the clover and the pines, the bluo rippling river, and the cows that looked ct^lmly at her with their patient, wistful eyes, were all novelties to the town child, whose first summer it was in the country. Some faint recollections she still had of the grassy slopes of her native hills, in the days of her early childhood; but since then all her experiences of summer had been the hot, hard pavements and stifling dust of a largo city. She had never before extended her wanderings in the direction of Mill Bank Farm so far as to reach the ravine through which the little stream flowed into the river ; and now, when she came to the edge of the steep slope and looked down into the luxuriant depth of foliage and fern and ragged moss-clad rock, she felt a sense of delight more intense than Bessie Ford or Lucy Raymond, familiar all their lives with such scenes, had ever experienced. She ■^.','- '">w"^'/'''>'l*^ •f 38 LUCY RAYMOND. stood spell -bound nt first, and then, scrambling down among rock and fern, reached the little stream, and was soon wading abont in its bed, enjoying the sensation of tho soft, warm water flowing over her bare feet, and pnll- ing tho little flowering water-plants that raised their heads among tho moss-grown logs and stones which lay in tho bed of tho stream. Then sho began to '^limb up on tho other sido, stopping to examine with admiring eyes every velvety cushion of moss, and cluster of tiny ferns, and fairy-liko baby pino or maple, and picking with eager hands the wild roses and other blossoms which she espied among tho tangled underwood. At last, tired with her wanderings, and with hands full of her treasures, sho threw herself down on a bed of dry moss that carpeted tho top of a high bank of rock which overlooked tho river winding away beneath, while over- head, through the feathery sprays of the long, straggling pino boughs, tho slauting sunbeams flickered on the turf below. There, in that solitary stillness — all tho stiller for the confused murmur of soft sounds, and the fresh, sweet breath of tho woods perfuming tho air — unaccustomed thoughts came into the little girl's mind, — thoughts which, in the din and bustle of tho city, where tho tide of human interests sufficed to fill up her undeveloped mind, had scarcely ever entered it. But here, where the direct works of God alone were around her, her mind was irresistibly drawn towards Him of whom Miss Preston had told her, that Pie had made her and all she saw around her, and who lived, she supposed, somewhere beyond that blue sky. vi NELLY'S SUNDAY EVENING. 39 With so many pleasant things around her, the thought of their Maker was i)leasant too. IJut then Mias Preston had told her that God loved what was good, but hated what was bad ; and did not her new mother constantly tell her sho was a "bad child?" — an accusation in which her con- science told her there was much truth. So God could not love her, she thought. But Miss Preston had said that God did lovo her — that Ho cared for her continually, and wished to make her good and happy — that He had even, in somo strange way which she could not understand, sent Ilia Son to die for her, that sho might bo mado good. It was all new and strange, but sho had faith in Miss Preston ; and becauao sho had told her, she believed it must bo true, tliat she, who had como to think herself — poor child — too bad for any one to caro for, had really a great, kind Friend near her, though she could not see Ilim, and loving her more than the mother whose warm caress she could still remember. It was an idea that might seem beyond the grasp of a poor untaught child, were it not that He who reveals Himself to babes and sucklings can speak to the heart He has mado in ways beyond our power to trace. The idea in Nelly's mind of that wonderful love which she so sorely needed, was more enlightened than many a philosopher's concep- tion of divinity, and the dark eyes filled with tears as a half-formed prayer awoke from her heart to tho loving Jesus, who, Miss Preston had told her, would hear and answer her. And who could doubt that He did hear and answer tho desolate, uncared-for child, scarcely knowing as yet what ■■■*■ I 4 I I ■ i 40 LUCY RAYMOND. " gooil" meant, since her knowledge bad been only of evil! llor conscience, liowovcr, was not dead, though neglected ; she knew at least what "wrong" was, and felt sho must leave off doing it if the Saviour was to be her friend. But how should she be able to leave off her bad, idle ways, and become a good, industrious girl, such as her new mother said most of the little girls in Ashlcigh were ? Then sho remem- bered the words which Miss Preston had made her repeat, ''Looking unto Jesus," and " I lay my sins on Jesus," and that Miss Preston had told her she must ask Jesus to take away her sins and make her good. But sho thought the right place for speaking to Jesus must be in the church, as most of the people sho had known in the city used to go to church " to confess," and she supposed that must have something to do with it. Just then she saw the Fords passing at a little distance on their way to church, and it occurred to her that she would go too ; and perhaps Jesus would hear her there, and show her how sho was to be made good. So she started up, and was speedily on the other side of the ravine, almost overtaking the Fords before they reached the village. The service was beginning when she crept stealthily into one of the farthest back seats, half afraid lest she was doing wrong in thus trespassing where she had no right. Then, crouched in a corner, with her face bent forward and her elf-locks half covering her eyes, she listened with in- tense earnestness, trying to take in all she could of what was so new, yet already not unfamiliar to her, and half dis- posed to think that the kindly-looking gentleman who stood there and spoke in such solemn tones might be Jesus Himself. NELL Y'S SUNDA Y EVENING. 41 Let not tiio more favoured ones, on whom from their cradles the blc^" A light of divine truth has steadily shone, smile at this poor child's ignorance, but rather try to show their gratitude for higher privileges, by seeking to impart some of the light shed on them so abundantly to those who are still wandering in darkness. On Nelly's listening heart Mr. Raymond's sermon did not fall so fruitlessly as some might have expected. For God is, for all, the hearer and answtrer of prayer, and He never leaves unheard the weakest cry to Ilim. As the lonely child once more sought her comfortless homo, she felt a stirring of new hope within her, and scarcely minded her mother's rough words when she demanded, " What have you been doing out so late ? No good, I am sure ! " Mrs. Connor had been enlarging, among sympathizing friends, on the hardship of her having to support her hus- band's child when he did so little himself for his family. "My goodness 1 all he gives us wouldn't half pay Nelly's board," she had declared ; and as her grievances were still fresh in her mind, she greeted her step-child with even more asperity than usual. But as Nelly crept away to her hard little bed, perhaps some angel, sent to minister to the motherless child, may have known that the "good-for-nothing," ignorant little girl, oppressed with the feeling of her own sinfulness, and full of the thought of her new-found heavenly Friend, was nearer the kingdom of heaven than the petted, admired, winning Stella Brooke, who had never yet learned her need of the Saviour, who came "not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." " \Vliy should wc fear youth's draught of joy, If pure, would sjiarkle less? Why should the cup the sooner cloy Which God has dcigued to bless If" !HE "strawberry picnic" proposed by Alick Steele had beeu fixed for the following Tues- day should it provo fine. Alick aud Fred had beeu over at Mill Bank Farm, and the younger Fords had agreed to meet them at the ravine, with their contribution of milk and cream, and various other things which Mrs. Ford's zealous housewifery would not bo prevented from sending, though Fred assured her that it was unnecessary. *' I know what young folks can eat, Mr. Fred," she re- plied, "and you may as well have plenty;" and Alick laughingly assured her she was quite right. Alick Steele, or the "young doctor," as his old friends now began to call him, had beeu an acceptable guest at many a picnic and merry-making, but he had never entered into anything 42 STRA IVniCr^R VING. 43 of ilio kind with nion^ Hpirit and zeal than he now threw into this einiplo gyiisjint; cxcuraion with hia country cousins. •' He's no end of a felh)w for a picnic," deehired Harry cnthusiaHticaliy, "and ten times as j,'ood as Fred;" tho quiet nature of tho latter always Hhriiikin<^ from any un- usual bustle, while Aliek's unfailing How of animal spirita found a conj^cnial outlet in any little extra cxeitcsment, especially when it was connected with tho procuring of enjoyment for others, lie and Harry were busy all Mon- day in exploring tho ground and selecting the most eligiblo place for tho repast; and Harry averred, when they re- turned home, that they would have a "splendid tinio" next day, if it were only line. Next morning opened as fair and bright as tho excur- sionists could desire, — not too hot, but tempered by a plea- sant breeze — "just tho day for tho woods, and not too rough for tho water." For Stella had manifested such consternation at tho idea of going through tho pasture — "cows always frightened her so" — that, notwithstanding the raillery and tho representations of Alick and Harry, it was evident that her pleasure would bo spoiled if she were obliged to go by the field-path. Alick therefore had good-naturedly hunted up a boat, which would save them a long dusty walk by the road, and greatly enhance tho pleasure of the excursion, besides carrying tho ^''impedi- menta^^^ as Fred classically termed tho baskets of provisions. Marion Wood, a playmate of Lucy's, was to accompany them in the boat, while Mrs. Steele and tho boys walked across the fields. 4^ LUCY RAYMOND. As soon as tho early dinner could bo got over, the boat's cargo was taken on board, tho passengers embarked, and after some little screams from Stella, who had a habit of being " nervous," the little bark shot off, swift and straight, impelled by Alick's firm, skilful strokes. The water-party reached the mouth of tho ravine considerably sooner than the others ; and while awaiting their arrival, Alick rowed them to a little fairy islet near tho shore, where they landed to explore it, and twine their hats with tho graceful creepers and ferns growing among its rocks. Then re-embarking, they floated at leisure up and down the glassy shaded water, fringed with tall reeds, the girls alternately trying their hands at the oars, till a shout from Harry and the waving of handkerchiefs announced the arrival of tho rest of the party. The strawberry -pickers had soon begun their search. Fred, who preferred rowing to strawberry-picking, under- took to take charge of Harry, who was as eager for tho water as a young duck ; while Mrs. Steele, taking out her knitting, sat down beside tho baskets under a spreading oak, on a knoll overlooking the river, to wait until thero should be a demand for tea. Very quickly the time sped away, while the children pursued their busy but not laborious quest of the tempting berries, half hidden under their spreading leaves; and many an exclamation, half of annoyance, half of amuse- ment, was uttered as one of them made a dart at a bright spot of crimson, fancying it a rich cluster of berries, and finding only a leaf. " "Why in the world do strawberries have red leaves, I it STRA WBERR YING. 45 tho her ight ,3,1 wonder!" exclaimed Harry, who, tired at lost of boating, was pretending to help them, though they all declared ho ate as many as he picked. " To inure you to tho disappointments of life," responded Alick oracularly. "You'll find, as you go along, there are more red strawberry leaves than berries all through." And Alick half sighed, as if he had already learned tho lesson by experience. "There's one thing, Alick, of which that remark doesn't hold good," remarked Fred to his cousin in an under-tone. " My father says that sheet-anchor will bear ns up through all the disappointments of life ; and I believe it." " Well, very likely you're right, — well for those who can feel it so. But at present I can't say I belong to that happy number. Some time or other, perhaps. You know my head has been full of all sorts of ologies except the- ology for a good while back." "The *more convenient season,* Alick," replied Fred, with a half 'uik "Here, a truce to moralizing. Who's got the most strawberries? The premium is to be the finest bunch in tho collection," shouted Alick. And after the prize had been with much ceremony and mirth adjudged to Bessie Ford, it was time to think about tea. "Come," said Alick, "sliouldc urms, that is, baskets, and march ! " All were very ready to obc y Alick's word of command, and the merry party were soon collected around the snowy tablecloth spread on the turf, on which Mrs. Steele had •46 LUCY RAYMOND, arranged the tempting repast of pies and cakes, curds and cream, to which a fine large dish of strawberries — a con- tribution from the farm — formed a tempting addition. Fred, at his aunt's request, asked a blessing, and then the good things were welcomed by the appetites sharpened by fresh air*and exercise ; and the feast was enlivened by the innocent glee and frolic which usually enliven such simple country parties, unfettered by form, and unsophis- ticated by any of the complications which creep into more elaborate picnics. Even Stella, though she felt the whole affair — especially the presence of the farmer's children — rather below her dignity as an embryo city belle, gave her- self up unrestrainedly to the enjoyment of the occasion, and was more natural and free from what Alick called " airs " than she had been at any time during her visit. But the party were quite unconscious that they were watched, through the thickly drooping boughs of a large hickory, by a pair of bright, dark eyes, which were wistfully re- garding them. The eyes were those of Nelly Connor, who, having been unexpectedly left free that afternoon to follow her own devices, had wandered away in the direction of the spot which had so fascinated her on Sunday. When the tea was fairly over, and cups, dishes, and other paraphernalia were being packed up by Mrs. Steele and the girls, Stella, who, not being inclined to assist in such a menial occupation, was wandering aimlessly about, made a discovery. " Oh, Lucy," she exclaimed, coming hurriedly up to her, "there is such a ragged, bold-looking little girl sitting over there ! She has been watching us the whole time." STRA WBERR YING, )> her, ■V. 4r " Well, her watching wouldn't hurt us," said Lucy, simjing at her cousin's consternation. " I hope she was pleased with what she saw. Why, it's Nelly Connor I " she added as the little girl emerged from her hiding-place. ** What can have brought Tier here ? I'll get Aunt A|.ary to give her something to eat. I daresay she's hungry enough, for Miss Preston told me she didn't think her new mother gave her enough to eat." " I think she ought to be scolded and sent away," said Stella decidedly. "You are just encouraging her imper- tinence in coming here to watch us." But Lucy had abeady run off to her aunt, and was soon carrymg a plate heaped with good things to the astonished Nelly, who, frightened at being discovered, and at Stella's frowning looks, was thinking how she might make good her escape. Stella had only spoken as she had been accus- tomed to hear those around her speak. She had been brought up to look upon poverty and rags as something almost wicked in themselves, and had never realized that feelings the same as her own might lie under an exterior she despised. She had never been taught the meaning of " I was a hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink." Lucy, on the contrary, had been taught to consider it the highest privilege and gratification to impart a share of the bounties bestowed upon herself to the poor and needy whom our Saviour has left as a legacy to His followers, and had already tasted the happiness of lightening somewhat the load of poverty and hardship which press upon some during all their lives. She soon reassured Nelly, and had the satisfaction of /- 48 LUCY RA YMOND. seeing her enjoy the food with the zest of one to wliom Buch delicacies wcro rare indeed, and whoso appetite was very sehiom fully satisfied at homo. She explained to tho rest that Nelly was in her class at Sunday school ; and Stella mentally put it down as another objection to going there, that it involved the possibility of such undesirable acquaint- anceships. Alick was much interested in tho little wan- derer ; and even after the rest had set off toAvards the farm- house, which they were to visit before returning, he remained beside her, drawing from her, bit by bit, her touching his- tory, until she began to remember how late it was, and started homeward, much astonished and cheered by tho kindness and sympathy 8h(i had met with. Alick found the rest of the party exploring the farmyard, admiring the cows, particularly Mrs. Ford's sleek, glossy black favourite ; while Harry was, to his intense delight, cantering up and down tho road to the gate, on the stout little pony which the farmer usually rode to market. As there was a full moon, there was no hurry about re- turning; and on tho arrival of Mr. Raymond, who had walked over to meet them, Mrs. Ford insisted on their coming in for a while. And before they took their leave she brought out her large family Bible for evening wor- ship, with che request that Mr. Kaymond would read and pray before his departure; "for," she said, "I know wo don't mind these things half enough, and we'd be all tho better of a Avord or two from you." Mr. Raymond read tho last chapter of Ecclcsiastcs, mak- ing a few brief but impressive comments on the insufllcicncy for ti'uo happiness of the enjoyments which this life can /■• STRA WD ERR YING. 49 cuu furniBh, fair and good gifts of God though such enjoyments may be. "The timo would come, even in this life," he said, " when the joys of tliis world would be found want- ing. And after this life, what would be their condition who had made this world their portion, and hud ' not remem- bered their Creator in the days of their youth?'" Doubt- less the thought of his own youthful circle, and of the strong, ruddy young Fords, all so full of health and lifo and joyous spirits, was strongly upon him when he dwelt so earnestly upon the words: "Kejoicc, young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart and in the sight of thine eyes ; but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment." Then, reading part of the third chapter of the First Epistle of John, he directed his hearers to the wonderful privileges provided for them, so far transcending all mere temporal gifts— to the "love the Father hath bestowed, that we should be called the sons of God," — showing how these privileges were to be grasped through faith in the love which laid down life for us ; and how that love, flow- ing into the heart, was to purify the life by enabling us to do the things which are pleasing in His sight. The solemn, earnest words— few, but well chosen— seera- .ing to come with peculiar power after the day of joyous excitement, touched responsive chords in the hearts of most of the young party, who looked earnest and thoughtful ; though who could tell whether the impression should be an abiding one, or should pass away like the "early dew?" Lucy and_Bossie listened with real interest— the latter, In m so LUCY RAYMOND. especially, with much more than she would have felt a few days before ; aud Mrs. Fori silently renewed her good rc- Bolutions to seek to influence her family to choose the *' better part, which could not be taken away from them." liUcy could not heip glancing at Stella when the verses in the chapter about want of compassion for the brother or sister in need were road ; but Stella looked placidly un- conscious, p.ud indeed her thoughts were far away, — con- sidering how she should best impress Marian Wood, on their way home, y ith a due sense of the grandeur of her city life. After many kind parting salutations, and warm invita- tions from Mrs. Ford to come soon and spend an afternoon at the farm, the party took leave ; one division proceeding homeward by the winding road, lying white in the full moonlight, as the fields were now wet with dew, while the others took the shortest cut to the river, where the boat was lying. Very little was said during most of the way, except some subdued exclamations of delight as they passed out from the deep shadow of the overhanging rocks into t)ie broad river, which glittered in the moonlight like a sheet of dazzling silver, roughened by the slightest ripple, and past point after point of luxuriant foliage, looking dream-like and uiu-eal in the light that silvered their glis- tening leaves. As they nearcd the village, Lucy suddenly recollected their unexpected guest. " I wonder how Nelly got home ! Did she stay long after we left, Alick?" she said. "No; she said her mother would bo angry if she were out late, so she set off at a run." ^ »> STRA WDERR YING, 51 *' Lucy," said Stella, *' I wonder how you can have any- thing to do with such a vagabond -looking child! I'm suro she was watching to see whether she could pick up any- thing ; and she looked just like a gipsy." "Oh, Stella 1 how can you be so suspicious?" exclaimed Lucy indignantly. " I don't believe Nelly would do any such thing ! No wonder the poor child was watching us while we were at tea ; didn't you see how hungry she w^s ? " *' Well, I know we've had things stolen by just such children, and papa says it's best to keep such people down ; for they're sure to impose on those who are kind to them, and charity is quite thrown away upon them." " A convenient belief to save trouble," Lucy was just going to say, but wisely repressed the impulse, feeling that it would not sound very respectful to Stella's father, who, she felt, must be a very different man from her own. " Stella," said Alick, " did it ever occur to you what you might have been if you had been left, motherless and almost fatherless, to run all day on the streets, listening to bad words and seeing all sorts of evil, without any one to say a kind word to you and teach you what is right ? I wish you could have heard the poor little thing's story as she told it to me." And in a few words he gave them an outline of Nelly's history. " Papa says you never can believe their stories," objected the city-hardened Stella. " I know you can't always," replied Alick; " but I think I'm not easily taken in, and I'm willing to stake my judg- ment on this being no sham. And how would you have turned out from such a bringing-up. Mademoiselle Stella?" I f^.. '^ r 52 LUCV RAYMOND. " And whoro is her father?" Lucy nskcd. " Oh, her father works on a boat, and is seldom at homo. They came to live here because it is cheaper, and tliey can have a pig and raise potatoes." ** .T wonder Avhcther she can read," said Lucy. *' X shouldn't think so, for she never was at school in hor life, nor at church either, since thoy left Ireland, till last Sunday." *' I wonder," said Stella, " whether she understood any- thing she heard." " Tossibly she might bo able to give as good an account of the sermon as some other people," remarked Alick mis- chievously. *' Come, Stella, what waatho text?" *' I don't believe you know yourself," retorted Stella, colouring ; and, fortunately for her, Alick's attention was just then directed to the care of landing his passengers. As they walked home, Stella and Alju'ian in front, eagerly engrossed in a children's party which the former was describings Lucy remarked impatiently to Alick, *' How can Stella talk in that hard, unfeeling way about poor people ? " "Poor girll" said Alick, "it is sad to see any one so spoiled by living in a cold worldly atmosphere. As you know more of the world, Lucy, you will be more and moro thankful for such a home as you ha,ve always had." Lucy was silent. Her cousin's words made her feel that she had been indulging in self-righteous and uncharitable feelings, and she felt humbled at the lesson which she had thus received from one who did not profess to be a Chris- tian, in one of a Christian's most important graces. Bub Bhe accepted the rebuke, and she added to her evening I STRA WBERR YING. 53 \ prayer tno petition tlmt slio might be mndo more hnmblo, and less rondy to condemn ; as well as tlmt Stella's heart niight be opened to receive the love of Christ, and, through this, of her poor earthly brothers and sisters. The little party were soon assembled at home, and after cheerful " good-nights,"— Harry remarking that "he was awful tired, but there never had been a nicer picnic," — tho wearied excursionists soon lost all sense of fatigue in peace- ful slumbers and happy dreams. sOU/i VI. " And if this simple message Has now brought peace to you, Make known the old, old story. For others need it too." ^"WO days after the picnic was the day fixed upon for Miss Preston's wedding, to which, as has been said, Lucy had been invited to accompany her father and aunt. Stella had not been included in the invitation, which she privately thought a great omission. It would have been such a good oppor- tunity for showing the Ashleigh people how they dress in the city, and she felt sure that, tastefully attired in a lovely white grenadine, which would have been just the thing for the occasion, she and her dress would have added no small eclat to the wedding. Nevertheless she behaved very amiably to Lucy, who, when she pressed her to wear one of her own pretty white dresses, and offered to lend her any of her ornaments which £4 A MISSION. 55 she fancied, felt somewhat ashamed of her own condemna- tory feelings toward her cousin, since it is a very natural tendency in all of us to make our own estimate of others depend to a considerable extent upon their treatment of ourselves. However, she adhered to her original determination of wearing the simple India muslin, which had been her own dear mother's bridal dress (its trimmings having been worked by her own hands), and all Stella's representations that it was " old-fashioned " failed to produce any effect. She would indeed have felt it treason to admit its inferiority to any of her cousin's more stylish dresses. But, to please Stella, she accepted the loan of a sash pressed upon her by her cousin, who took a considerable amount of trouble in the arrangement of her toilet, and in weaving, with innate skill, a graceful wreath of delicate pink rosebuds and green leaves, which she fastened on Lucy's dark hair, and pro- nounced the effect " charming," while Alick complimented her on her skill. Lucy was conscious of looking better than she had ever done before. It made her think just a little too much about her appearance, and then she felt humbled at seeing in herself the germ of the very feeling she had despised in her cousin. The wedding arrangements were very quiet and simple. Lucy, who had never been present on so important an occasion, enjoyed it very much, notwithstanding her sorrow at parting with her teacher, whom she thought the very ideal of a bride in her simple bridal dress. Its simplicity, indeed, would probably have scandalized Stella, but Miss Preston was not going to be rich, or mingle in gay society, 56 LUCY RAYMOND. and she wisely thought show and finery quite out of place. But she had long made it her chief aim to possess that best ornament of " a meek and quiet spirit," which, we are told, " in the sight of God is of great price." Before her departure she took Lucy apart to say a few words of loving counsel. " I hope you will try to work for Christ, dear Lucy," she said, " as He gives you opportunity. Remember, a Christian who does not work is only half a Christian. Now I think if you tried, you might do Nelly Connor some good. She wants a friend very much, and is easily won by kindness." " I should be glad to do anything I could," said Lucy ; " but what would be best to try ?" *' Well, poor Nelly can't read a word, you know, and I am afraid her stepmother would not spare her to go to school. But suppose you were to get her to come to you for half an hour a day. I think her mother might be induced to let her do that. And a short reading-lesson every day would soon bring her on." Lucy was a little disappointed. It seemed such common- place drudgery to drill an untaught child in the alphabet and spelling-book. Her vague idea of " work for Christ" had been of a more exalted nature. But her friend added : ** I don't mean that you should not teach her better things also. You could, little by little, teach her a good deal about Christ in the course of your daily lessons. But sometimes we may serve Him best by doing His commonest work. And think what you will do for this poor child by putting it in her power to read the Bible for herself, and have access at all times to our Saviour's own words!" A MISSION. 57 Lucy willingly promised to try, and then Mrs. Harris, as Mias Preston was now called, bade her an affectionate fare- well, before going to exchange the parting words with the members of her own family. Lucy watched by the gate till she saw the carriage drive off, and then, overcome by the reaction from the excitement of the occasion, hurried home through the quiet shady lane, and disregarding Stella's call, never stopped till she reached her own room. There the astonished Stella found her lying on her bed, crying bitterly, and asked in alarm the cause of her distress. That the parting from a Sunday-school teacher, a friend so much older than herself, could have called forth such emo- tion, Stella could not comprehend ; and it was difl&cult for Lucy to explain it to so unsympathetic a listener. " Why, I'm sure I shan't cry so when Sophy is married and goes south, a great deal farther away than Miss Preston. Now tell me how she was dressed." " Oh, Stella! I can't just now," sobbed Lucy, whose crying was partly the result of nervous excitement, as well as of her realizing for the first time Miss Preston's departure. And Stella, finding her attempts to soothe her unavailing, returned to her story-book, until the arrival of Mrs. Steele, whom she found more communicative. " And where is Lucy ? " inquired her aunt, after satisfy- ing Stella's curiosity. " She must have slipped away very quietly." " Oh, she's in her own room. She was crying so, it was no use to speak to her. I don't know what for." " She is very foni of her teacher, and I don't wonder at her crying on losing her. She is a great loss to us all." 58 LUCY RA YMOND. I *' What ft fuss they all do make over her I I'm sure she didn't seem anything particular," thought Stella as she accompanied Mrs. Steele up-staira. Lucy had fallen asleep, but awoke on their entrance, and started up to arrange her disordered dress and hair before going to tea. " Just look how you have crushed your nice dress now ! " exclaimed Stella reproachfully. " And the wreath too ! It might have been fresh all the evening. You might have taken them off if you wanted to lie down." • " I didn't think of it," said Lucy apologetically, some- what remorseful for not having treated the result of Stella's labour with more respect. " But I shouldn't have worn it all the evening, at any rate, for after tea I am going to see Nelly Connor." " What ! that girl we saw in the wood ? What are you going to see her for ? " exclaimed Stella. " Miss Preston — I mean Mrs. Harris — wants me to try to get her to c^me to learn to read, if papa and Aunt Mary have no objection ; and I'm sure they won't." " It was to Stella a bewildering phenomenon, that Lucy should really go out of her way to invite such a girl to the house. However, partly from curiosity, and partly from having nothing better to do, she acceded to Lucy's invita- tion to accompany her ; and after tea the girls set off, Mrs. Steele warning Lucy to be very conciliatory to Mrs. Connor, or she would not accomplish her object. They soon reached the side of the green slope on the river bank, on which the Connors' cottage stood, and were following the path to the house, when they encountered Nelly herself, struggling up the hill with a heavy pail of A MISSION. 59 water. Her brown, weather-tanned face lighted up with a glad smilo when she recognised Lucy, and in reply to her inquiry she said she was carrying up water for the next day's washing. " And do you carry it all up from the river?" said Lucy. "Yes, miss, every drop," replied Nelly, with a weary little sigh. *' Nelly, would you like to learn to read ? " asked Lucy, plunging at once into her errand. " I don't know, miss," was the rather doubtful reply. " "Why, wouldn't you like to be able tr read tb-it nico hymn Miss Preston gave you, for yourself ? " " Yes, miss, I'd like to be able, but I don't kiiow if I'd like the learning." Lucy laughed, as did Stella also, and Nelly herself. " Well, as you can't be able to do it without learning, don't you think you'd better try ? " asked Lucy. " I don't think mother would let me; and I must hurry now, or she'll be angry at me keeping her v/aiting, with the baby to mind." But just then a large dog, rushing down the hill, upset poor Nelly's pail. "Holy Mary!" she exclaim*. 1., using the ejaculation she had been accustomed to hear iiom infancy, " there's all my water spilt ; " and seizing her pail, she had run down to refill it, before Lucy \fm able to begin an intended re- proof. The girls watched her refill her pail, and return towards the cottage by a r.carer though steeper path. Mrs. Connor, a tall, bony, discontented-looking woman, had come to the 6o LUCY RAYMOND. door to look for Nelly. Not seeing the young ladies, who were approaching the house from the other side, she screamed out in a harsh voice as Nelly approached : ''What have you been doing all this time, keeping me waiting with the child in my arms ? " " It was a dog," began Nelly, setting down her pail. But before she could finish her sentence she was roughly shaken, and sharp blows descended about her ears. " I'll teach you to spend your time playing with dogs when I'm waiting for you. There, be off, and mind the baby ; " and Nelly, putting up her hands to her face, ran crying into the house. Lucy stood for an instant pale with indignation, and then, the impulse of the moment making her forget all her aunt's warnings as to being conciliatory, and her own prudent resolves, she announced her presence by exclaiming, in a voice unsteady with emotion : " Mrs. Connor, it's a shame to beat Nelly like that, when she hasn't been domg any harm. It was my fault she was so long, for I stopped her to speak to her, and then a dog overturned her pail." Mrs. Connor was startled at finding there had been spec- tators of her violence ; but she did not betray any shame she might have felt, and coolly regarding Lucy, she re- plied : " Well, I don't see what business it is of yours, anyhow. If young ladies hain't nothin' better to do than meddle with other folks' children, they'd better let that be ! " " What an impertinent woman ! " said Stella, quite loud enough for her to hear. " Lucy, can't you come away and let her alone ? " A MISSION. 6i But Lncy, though a good deal discomposed by her recep- tion, was determined not to be easily moved from her object; and having by this time remembered her con- ciliatory resolve, she said, as quietly as she could : " Mrs. Connor, my father is Mr. Raymond, the clergy- man. I came to see if you would let Nelly come to our house every day, to learn to read. It's a great pity she shouldn't know how." " I don't care who your father is," retorted the woman in the same insolent tone. " I don't see what you've got to do with it, whether it's a pity or not. The child 's lazy enough already, witaout havin' them idees put into her head ; and better people than her do without book-learning." "Lucy, do come away! I shan't stop to listen to her impudence," exclaimed Stella as she turned and walked away with a haughty air. Mrs. Co mor's quick eye followed her, and she half muttered to herself, "A city gal!" Then, taking up the pail which Nelly had set down, she went into the house without vouchsafing another look at Lucy, who, seeing the uselessness of pressing her point, hastened to join her cousin. " Now you see, Lucy, you only get yourself insulted trying to do any good to such people," said Stella trium- phantly. " I remember one of Sophy's friends once wanted her to go visiting poor people with her, and papa said he wouldn't have her go on any account ; it was all nonsense running all sorts of risks to do good to people who didn't want it." ' " But it wasn't Mrs. Connor, but Nelly, that I wanted to do good to, and she can't help what her odious step- 62 LUCY RA YMOND. Only think what it must be to live with mother does, her!" " Fd run away! But you see Nelly herself didn't seem to care about learning to read." " Because she didn't know the good of it," replied Lucy. " But what should you or I have done if we hadn't been made to learn, whether we liked it or not ? " " That's quite different. This girl will always have to work, I suppose, and would get on well enough without learning to read. I know mamma was always complain- ing that our servants were reading trashy novels, that filled their heads with nonsense and made them discontented." " But you could have given them something better to read," suggested Lucy. Stella said nothing in reply to this ; nor did she enlighten Lucy as to the fact that in reading "trashy novels" the servants were only following their young mistresses' ex- ample. Lucy in the meantime was thinking what up-hill work doing good was, and how hard it was to know how to do it. Suddenly she remembered Ler motto; she had been forgetting that the difficulties of the way were to be met in a strength not her own. Perhaps it was because she had not first asked for that strength, that she had met with so little success; and she regretted having so soon departed from her resolution of "looking to Jesus" in everything. But Stella soon roused from her "brown study," as she called it, by various questions as to Mrs. Harris's route of travel, and also as to her travelling dress, which Lucy was very ill prepared to answer, having cast hardly a passing A MISSION. 63 Uig glance at it, in her sorrow for her teacher's departure. On their way home they overtook Mrs. Steele and Alick, to whom were soon related the particulars of their mission, Stella imitating Mrs. Connor's tone and manner to the life, as she graphically reproduced the conversation, much to Alick's amusement, though he ground his teeth with indig- nation on hearing of the violent treatment Nelly had received. " What a woman ! You mustn't leave the poor child to her tender mercies. What can she turn out, brought up under such a termagant? Suppose I try and bring the old lady round with a little judicious flattery ? " " I think I can manage the matter," said Mrs. Steele. " I bhall make a bargain with Mrs. Connor, and promise to give her a day's work once a fortnight, provided she will let Nelly come here for half an hour every day. But do you think the child herseK will be willing to come ? " " Oh, I'm sure she'll be willing to come where any one is kind to her, she has so little kindness at home," replied Lucy. Mrs. Steele proved right. By her more judicious manage- ment and substantial inducement, Mrs. Connor was per- suaded to give an ungracious assent to the plan proposed for Nelly's benefit. But, as if to be as disagreeable as possible, even in consenting, she fixed upon the time which Lucy would least have chosen for the task. The only time when she could spare Nelly, she said, was in the evening, after the children were in bed. It was the time when Lucy most enjoyed being out, watering her flowers, or taking an evening walk, or r^w with the others. But the choice lay 'i 64 LUCY RA YMOND. between doing the work then, or not at all ; and whttu she thought how light was the task given her to do, and how slight the sacrifice, she felt ashamed of her inclination to murmur at it. So Nelly's education began with the alphabet ; and though it wap a drudgery both for teacher and pupil, reciprocal kindness and gratitude helped on the task, and before many weeks had passed Nelly was spelling words of two syllables, and had learned some truths, at least, of far greater importance. : he to nd nd :d8 of VII. " Or rather help us. Lord, to choose the good — To pray for naught, to seek to none but Thee ; Nor by our ' daily bread ' mean common food ; Nor say, ' From this world's evil set us free.' " >HE Sunday school was again assembled on another Sunday afternoon, some weeks later. The day was even warmer than the one on which our story opened, and all the church windows were opened to their widest extent, to admit every breath of air which came in through the waving pine boughs. Lucy had been promoted to teach a small class of her own, in which Nelly Connor had willingly taken he^ place. She was indeed advancing faster in spiritual than in secular learning ; for in the first she had the best of all teaf*hers, to whose teaching her simple heart was open — the Holy Spirit Hiij 'celf. Bessie Ford had found another teacher, and beside her sat Stella, who, partly from finding her Sunday afternoons ■f*' ' r G6 LUCY RAYMOND. ! dull, nnd partly from feeling that it was her uncle's wish that she should accompany Lucy to Snnd.?y selsool, had overcome her objection to it so far as to go v^Ith her vousiu. And having fcand out on the first Su 'day low deficient, she herBolf was in Bible knowleclge, and nevt i- lil-'ug to appear inferior to others in ony thing, she took some pains to prepare her lessons, at least so far that her ignorance might not lower hev in the eyes of her clasf' -mates. It was a poor motive, certainly ; still, seeds of divine truth were gradually finding their way into her heart, whi'^^ might iu time germinate and bear fruit. And her stay in Mr. iiaymcud's household, where "serving the Lord" was avowedly the ruling principle, had already exercised a heahJiJil influence over her impressionable nature. On this particular Sunday the interesting announcement wag made, that the annual "picnic'' or Sunday-school excursion was to take place on the following Wednesday, the place being a beautiful oak wood about a mile from the church, in the opposite direction from Mill Bank Farm. As little groups clustered together on leaving the church door, there was a general buzz of talk about the picnic. Lucy stopped N«illy Connor to ask her whether she thought her mother would let her go to the picnic. Poor Nelly looked very doubtful as she replied, " I don't know ; I'm afraid not." " Well, Nelly, I'll see what can be done about it,'' said Lucy encouragingly. " But I haven't anything decent to wear to it, miss," replied Nelly, looking dolefully down on the tattered frock, which her mother never took the troubb to mend, and TEMPTATIONS. 67 she lon't said n wlilch slio, poor child, could not, except in the most bun- gling fashion. Lucy walked home thoughtfully, and, as the fruit of her meditation, a print dress of her own was next morning pro- duced, and a consultation was held with her aunt as to the practicability of altering it to fit Nelly. " I only wonder I didn't think of it before," she said, *' for she is always so miserably dressed. "Will you help me to make it up, Stella?" *'My dear, I wouldn't know how! The most I ever sewed in my life was to hem a pocket-handkerchief." Mrs. Steele looked shocked at such deficiency in what she rightly considered a most important part of female education. She had always taken care that Lucy should spare enough time from her more congenial studies, to learn at least to sew neatly. *' Why, Stella!" Lucy exclaimed, "you're almost as bad as poor Nelly, who said she had never learned to sew because 'nobody had teached her.'" " I've never had time to learn. I like embroidery better; and mamma said we should never need to do plain sewing, BO she didn't see the use of our taking up our time with it." " No one knows what she may have to do," remarked Mrs. Steele gently. " It is always best to know how, at any rate." *' Well, I hope I shall never have to, for I should hate it ! " However, when Lucy was fairly at work on the little frock. Stella good-naturedly offered to help her a little, though, never having been trained to perseverance in any- thing, her assistance was not very eflBcient. I 68 LUCY RAYMOND. Bessie Ford had gone home from Sunday school with her Lead turned by hearing some foolish talk about her dress. Alas ! how often it is that Sunday scholars, on leaving the school, instead of giving one thought to the divine truths they have been hearing, allow their attention to be absorbed with the petty frivolities in which their thoughts run wild ! *' Mother," said Bessie, after she had duly announced the intended picnic, "can't I have a new pink sash for my white frock ? Nancy Parker is going to have ever so many new things." " No, child," said her mother, " you don't need a new flash. Your frock looks quite well enough without one. But I've been thinking you'd be the better of a new hat, for the one you have looks a little brown. And as you've been a pretty good girl, and a deal less forgetful of late, I wouldn't mind getting you a new hat, if you'll hurry and finish up that plain sewing you've had in hand so long. It's time it was done and put away." Bessie looked a little disappointed. The new hat was not so attractive as the sash would have been. Suddenly her mother's remark on the brownness of her hat suggested the image of Nelly's tattered, dingy one, which she had noticed that afternoon. "What would you do with my old hat, mother," she said, "if I get a new one?" "I don't know. You've your sun-bonnet for wearing about the farm. Put it by for Jenny, perhaps," suggested the thrifty Mrs. Ford. "Might I give it to Nelly Connor, mother? Hers will hardly stay together." TEMPTATIONS. 69 Mrs. Ford had never seen Nelly, but she knew something of her forlorn situation. " I'm sure." she said, " I shouldn't mind if you did. 1 dare say it would be charity to her, poor thing." And it occurred to her to think whether she, a well-to-do farmer's wife, had been as abundant in deeds of charity as she might have been. Bessie considered the matter settled, and next day set to work with renewed zeal on the " plain sewing," which had been getting on very languidly ; for Bessie was not fond of long, straight seams, or of sitting still for any length of time. She set herself a task as she took her seat under the spreading butlernut-tree ; and Jenny and Jack came to beg for "a siory." Bessie's story-telling powers had been largely developed of late, to make the Si aday lessons she had begun to give the restless little things more palat- able to them. Only the promise of "a story" could fix tlieir attention long enough to commit to memory a simple verse. And her powers once founa out, she soon had demands upon hei for stories to a greater erteut than her patience was always equal to satisfying. Bessie had become, as her mother had noticed, much more t) oughtful of late. Her card, hung up in her room, kept ai .ays before her mind her resolution to "look to Jesus" for help to live to please Him. And though she still often forgot and yielded to temptation, yet, on the whole, she was steadily advancing in that course in which all must be either going forward or backward. Her mother noticed that this decided improvement dated from the day when she had brought home the card, — a day which had not been without influence on herself, — although, when worldly * 1 %■ • • I 70 LUCY RAYMOND. principles have been long suffered to hold undisputed sway, it is difRcult at once to overcome old habits ; and lost ground is not less hard to retrieve in spiritual than in earthly ♦bingt Bessie was still diligently working at her " task," when r.ho saw Nancy Parker running up across the fields. " Oh, Bessie," she said breathlessly, " get ready and come right away. My cousins '\ave come to spend the day, and we're going boating up liio rivrer, and then home to supper. The rest are all waiting in the boat down there, and I ran up to get you. So be quick ! '' Bessie hesitated. If she went with Nancy, a considerable portion of the work she had set herself to do would be left undone. Besides, her mother had gone to Ashleigh, leaving her in charge ; and Bessie was not at all sure that, had she been at home, she wo" Id approve of her joining the party. To be sure, she could not be absolutely "'^rtain of her mother's disapproval, and she could easily run down foi* Sam to come and stay with the children. At the worst, she did not think her mother would be much displeased ; and the thought of the pleasant row, and the msrry party, and all the " fun " they would have, offered no small temp- tation. " Quick, Bessie !" Nancy urged, impatient of her delay. "I don't think I can go, Nancy. Mother's out, and I've a lot of sewing to do." " Bother the sewing ! Your mother wouldn't mind, I'm sure. Mine lets me do exactly as I like. Come and get ready ;" and she pulled Bessie from her seat, and drew her, half-resisting, towar.^ the house. TEMPTATIONS. 7t They went up-stairs together, Bessie feeling far from satisfied with herself for yielding where oonseionce told her she ought not to yield. "My !" said Nancy, whoso quick eyes had been glancing round the room, " what a grand ticket you've got hanging up there ! Where did you get it?" Bessie's eye turned to her motto, and she stood for a minute looking at it in silence. Then, instead of reply in, cj to the question, she said, " Nancy, 1 cannot go ; it wouldn't be right." "Well, that's a nice way to treat me!" said Nanoy angrily. " After my waitinj^^ so long, too. Why, don't you know your own mind? Come, you can't change now ; I'm not going to be cheated, after all my trouble." " I'm very sorry, Nancy ; but I oughtn't to have said I would go at all. Don't wait any longer. But I'll go down to the boat with you." "Oh, don't trouble yourself; I can do without your company." And off she ran, before Bessie could say any more. Bessie felt sorry at having vexed Nancy, and thought a little wistfully of the afternoon's pleasure that she might have had. But she felt satisfied that she had done right, and felt thankful that she had had strength given to resist a temptation to which she now felt she would have done very wrong to yield. So she went br.ck to her shady seat with a light heart, and stitched away diligently, not re- pining although she heard the merry voices of the party, borne to her from the river. As her mother had not returned by the time her task was '^i V ^/ n LUCY RA YAIOND. complotod, she went in and got tea ready ; and then calling up two of tho gcutlcHt cows, sho had milked them by the time Mrs. Ford appeared, tired and dusty from her long walk. Her pleased surprise at Bessie's tlioughtful industry in getting through so much of tho work which sho thought was still before her, was in itself sufflcient reward for the self-denial; and Bessie felt what a shame it would have been if her mothpr, fatigued as sho was, had had every- thing to do on her return, while she was away on a pleasure- party. Of course Mrs. Ford was soon informed of Nancy's visit and invitation. "Oh, my child!" she exclaimed, "I am so glad you refused to go. Mrs. Thompson, in the village, was just telling me about these cousins of Nancy's, and says they are tho wildest set in Burford, and that their society wouldn't do Nancy any good. So, if you had gone, I should have been very sorry. I'm so glad you didn't!" How glad Bessie was that she had been enabled to resist the temptation ! But she felt she could not take the credit to herself ; so she said : " I had the greatest mind to go, mother, but something told me I shouldn't, just as I was almost going." "WeU, it's all the same to me, as you didn't go. And you were a real good girl, Bessie, to stay ! " What a safeguard is a definite duty conscientiously pur- sued I If Bessie nad not had her task of sewing to finish, with the feeling that it was her duty to do it, she might have been more easily led away against her better judg- ment. TEMPTATIONS. 73 Nelly Connor had had hor temptation, too, tho samo evening. Hor mother had sent her to take home somo clothes ehe had been washing ; and aa Nelly was carrying the basket, she noticed a pretty pink printed frock lying on tho top, which looked as if it would exactly fit her. How nice it would be, she thought, if she had such a frock to wear to tho picnic ! Then came one of the evil suggestions which the tempter is so ready to put into the heart : what if she should keep it till the picnic was over, and wear it just that once ? She could hide it, and put it on somewhere out of her step-mother's sight ; and then, perhaps, if she were dressed so nicely, some of tho other little girls might be willing to play with her; for the poor child felt her isolated position. " Then conscience said, " Would it be right ?" Had she not been learning, *' Thou shalt not steal ?" And had not Miss Lucy explained to her that that meant taking any- thing, even the least, that was not her own? A short time ago Nelly would have appropriated any trifle that came in her way, without thinking twice about it; but some light had visited her mind now, and she could dis- tinguish what was darkness. But then this would not be stealing, it would only be borrowing the frock! At last she was so near the house, that she was obliged to make up her mind at once ; so, scarcely giving herself time to think, she wrapped up the frock in the smallest possible compass, hid it behind a stone, and ran on to leave her basket, hurrying nervously back, lest some one should inquire for the missing article. She found it quite safe, however, and managed to convey 40^^"^^- 74 LUCY RAYMOND. it unseen to her little attic-room. But Nelly felt far more unhappy than she had ever been when her harsh mother liad beaten her most severely. She could not understand how it was that she should feel so miserable. She was glad that she could not go for her lesson to-night, for she should have been ashamed to face Miss Lucy. One of the children just then began to cry, and she ran down-scairs, glad of something to do, and took the utmost pains to do her evening work particularly well, by way of making up for the wrong of which she was inwardly conscious. But when she went to bed, Nelly, for the first time in her life, tossed about, unable to sleep. All sorts of possi- bilities of detection and disgrace occurred to her, and, above all, the voice of conscience told her she was little better than a thief. She had knelt down to say the simple prayer she had been first taught by Miss Preston, " Lord, take away my sin, and make me Thy child, for Jesus Christ's sake;" but indulged sin had come between her and the Father to whom she prayed, so that her prayer was only a formal one. She fell asleep at last, but only to dream uneasy dreams, in which the pink frock was always pro- minent ; and when she awoke in the early morning, it was with an uneasy sense of something wrong, soon defined into a distinct recollection. As she lay watching the early sunbeams slanting golden into her dingy attic, her eye fell upon the card pinned up against the wall, "Looking UNTO Jesus," which she could now spell out herself. Had she not been told to "look to Jesus" when unhappy or naughty, and He would deL.er her? She knew now that she could speak to Jesus anywhere ; so, springing out of TEMPTATIONS. 75 bed and kneeling down, she simply but heartily asked Hira to help her to be good. Then, putting on her clothes with all the haste she could, for fear she might be tempted to change her mind, she ran off unobserved, carrying with her the coveted frock, which she handed, without a word, to the servant who was sweeping t^". steps, and who, recognising her, supposed her step-mother had forgotten to send it home with the rest of the washing. Nelly ran off with a heart so much lighter, that she did not mind even the box on the ear which she received on her return for being out " idling about," instead of light- ing the fire for the breakfast. She felt she had deserved much more than that, and she contentedly accepted it as a slight punishment for her wrongdoing. That day, when Mrs. Connor was working at Mr. Ray- mond's, Mrs. Steele, showing her the frock which was now completed, told her it was to be given to Nelly on condition of her being allowed to go to the picnic. Mrs. Connor of course grumbled a good deal about the inconvenience of having to spare Nelly for a whole afternoon, but the frock tempted her ; and reflecting that the opportune arrival of this frock would do away with any necessity for getting Nelly a new one for a long time to come, she ungraciously gave her consent that she should go. When Nelly came that evening for her lesson, Lucy gladly informed her that she was to bo allowed to go to the picnic, and presented her with the frock which had been provided for her. Lucy was prepared for her look of sur- prise, but not so for her covering her face with her hands and bursting into tears. With sv"'me trouble she drew from i ^ 76 LUCY RAYMOND. her a confused account of the cause of her trouble — the sin she had been led into, and which touched her generous nature all the more now that the frock she had been wishing for was so opportunely provided. Lucy was at first somewhat shocked that Nelly had been capable of taking such a liberty with what was not her own, not being able to realize the strength of such a temp- tation to a child whose possessions were so few ; and she privately resolved not to tell Stella, who would scarcely have thought how nobly she overcame the temptation. However, she commended and encouraged Nelly, and told her always to resort to the same sure Helper in time of temptation, and to do it in the first place. " And Jesus k always ready to hear and help you," she added. "An' it was Him told you to give me the frock too, wasn't it? And I'm rightly thankful to Him, and you too, Miss Lucy." And Nelly carried home her new acquisition, with very different feelings from those with which she had taken the frock she had coveted. " How glad I am I thought of getting it ready for her ! " thought Lucy as she watched her depart, her own heart full of the pleasure of doing a much-needed kindness, — the only drawback being her regret that Nelly had not a new hat likewise. The much-watched-for day on which the picnic was to be held turned out as fine as the most eager young hearts could desire, notwithstanding one or two slight showers that fell in the early morning. But these only cleared the air and laid the dust, and made the foliage so fresh tud TEMPTATIONS. 77 glistening that its early summer beauty seemed for a time revived. The fine old oak grove where the feast was to be held, was, even before the appointed hour, astir with bright little groups of happy children. The teachers and some of the elder girls were already busy at a roughly constructed table, unpacking and arranging cups and saucers, filling the latter with the ripe-red berries which had been brought in in great abundance, and cutting up the piles of buns and cakes. Bessie Ford was superintending the distribution of the cream which had come in large jars from the farm- houses, and of which Mill Bank Farm had contributed the richest and finest. Lucy of course was among the working party, her position as Mr. Raymond's daughter giving her a degr,ee of importance far from disagreeable to her. Stella, seated with her friend Marian Wood in the centre of a magfi of flowers, was daintily arranging them in tiny bouquets to be given to the children. At last Bessie, who with Nelly's new hat beside her had been watching the various arrivals, descried the little soli- tary figure, with its dark, h,!-:;ing locks, for which she had been looking. When she approached her, she was quite surprised at the change in her appearance produced by the fresh, pretty frock ; ard when her old hat was removed, and the new one placed upon her dark hair, which had been smoothly combed and brushed out and put back from her eyes, she really looked as nice as most of the children there. Her dark eyes danced with pleasure as Bessie, herself almost as happy, took her to a group of girls about her own ago and introduced her to them as a stranger, to whom they m -il WR 78 LUCY RAYMOND. I must try to make the picnic as pleasant as possible. Bessie was a favourite with all the girls, and they willingly pro- mised what she asked ; so that Nelly, for the first time in many months, had a really good game of play with children of her own age, — an intense pleasure to her social, kindly Irish nature, which, with her ready wit, soon made her the life of the little group. Two or three hours passed rapidly by. Lucy and Bessie went from one part of the ground to another, encouraging the little ones to run and romp, bringing forward shy or isolated children, and watching that the ruder and stronger did not oppress the weaker, — or sitting down to talk with some of the elder girls, who preferred a quiet chat. Stella, in her airy muslin flounces, a tiny hat with floating blue ribbons crowning her golden tresses, flitted about with a winning grace, Avhich made her the admired of all observers. She felt herself a sort of princess on the occasion ; and as she dearly loved popularitj', even among rustics, she spared no pains to be affable and agreeable, and felt quite rewarded when she heard such speeches as, " What a sweet, pretty young lady ^Miss Lucy's cousin is !" " Isn't she, for all the world, just like a picture?" Alick watched with some amusement the patronizing air which mingled with her affability, and perhaps added to her consequence with those who could not appreciate the higher beauty of simplicity of manner. Lucy could not repress a slight feeling of annoyance at seeing how easily her cousin won her way, and how far her more adventitious advantages threw into the shade her own real exertions for the pleasure of those around her. Not that the exertions had been i TEMPTATIONS. 79 prompted by a desire for praise ; but she was not yet un- selfish enough to be satisfied that they had gained the desired end, although not fully appreciated by those for whom they had been made. The difference between the cousins was, that Lucy liked approbation, when she did what was right for its own sake, while Stella's conduct was chiefly prompted by the desire of admiration. " Lucy," said Stella, coming up to her during the after- noon, "do you see that ridiculous imitation of my dress that Nancy Parker has on ? I suppose she wanted to be dressed just like me ; but I'm glad I wore a different one to-day." Yet, though Stella professed some annoyance, she was secretly a little flattered at Nancy's thus recognising her as a leader of fashion. Alick and Harry were invaluable aids in promoting the enjoyment of the boys, as was Fred also in his quieter way. Towards the close of the afternoon Mr. Raymond appearerl, and, after a pleasant greeting interchanged with his older parishionei-s present, the children assembled in the centre of the ground to listen to a few kind and earnest words from their pastor. He took as his subject the "remembering their Creator in the days of their youth ; " and after remind- ing them to whom they owed the innocent pleasures which had been provided for them, he spoke earnestly of the Creator and Redeemer they were to '^remember," to whom they should now bring their young hearts, that He might take them and make them His. The sunshine of His gracious presence would, he said, hallow and sweeten their joyous hours, and be a stay and support even when the "evil days" should come, and all other sources of happiness should fail % A \ So LUCY RAYMOND. them. His address was not so long as to weary even the most impatient, and when it was concluded, the children stood up and sang a hymn, which, to Nelly's great delight, was her favourite — " I lay my sins on Jesus." Then, after Mr. Raymond had briefly asked a blessing on the food of which they were about to partake, and the intercourse they had had, and were still to have, the children quietly dispersed into little groups, and sat down on the grass to enjoy the good things that were liberally provided for them. The distribution kept the assistants busy, and some care had to be exercised lest too large a share of the cakes should be appropriated by some of the more greedy, — alas that there should be such among Sunday-scLool children ! Nelly Connor had seldom had a treat in her life, but she would not for the world have taken one cake more than her share, or have hidden one away in her pocket, as she saw some better-dressed children doing. At last, when the dew was beginning to moisten the grass, and the fast-lengthening shadows told that the long summer day was drawing to a close, a bell sounded to collect the children, and after singing the evening hymn, and having been commended by Mr. Raymond to the care of Him who neither slumbers nor sleeps, all quietly dispersed to their homes. The "picnic" so eagerly looked forward to was over, as all earthly pleasures must sooner or later be. Not a single incident had marred its harmony, and, to Nelly Connor in particular, tl *; day had been one of unmingled and unprecedented enjoyment. How different from what it would have been had she not, in a strength from above, overcome the temptation to which she had so nearly yielded! : r." VIII. " Only, since our souls will shrink At the touch of natural grief. When our earthly loved ones sink, Lend us. Lord, Thy sure relief,— Patient hearts, their pain to see. And Thy grace, to follow Thee." ^TELLA'S visit was now drawing to a close. She had very much enjoyed its novelty, and had, during her stay, made some acquisitions, though not of a kind that she yet appreciated, or was even conscious of. It was impossible for her to be so long in a household where every day was begun and closed by invoking God's presence and guidance, where His blessing and approbation were steadily regarded as the best of all good, where the standard of action was that laid down in His word, and where His strengthening grace was looked upon as the most necessary equipment for daily life, with- out receiving a deeper impression of the importance of these things than she had ever before felt. And though the 83 LUCY RAYMOND. members of her uncle^s family had their share of human imperfections, yet on the \7h0le the example she had seen around her had b'jen sufficiently consistent to show her, almost against her will, the beauty of a Christian life, as contrasted with one based wholly on worldly principles. Some seeds of good, at all evente;, she carried back with her, though she was far from having profited as she might have (lone, had her heart been more open to receive the influences around her. It had been a new thing to Lucy to have a companion of her own age and sex ; she had become really attached to her winsome cousin, and all the transient irritation which Stella had often caused her passed into oblivion now that they were really about to part. Alick was to escort Stella to the residence of a friend whom she was to visit on her way home ; and the cousins parted with affectionate hopes of g. visit from Stella next summer, and also of a winter visit which Mr. Raymond had half promised that Lucy should make to her cousin's city home. The loss of Stella's restless and vivacious presence made no small blank in the house — a blank to be still further increased by the permanent departure of Alick soon after his return from escorting Stella. He had at last decided on the place in which he was to settle — a new and rising village in the far West — and had already been claiming his mother's promise, that so soon as he should be able to provide a home for her, she would come and preside m it. Mrs. Steele felt that it would be her duty to comply with her son's desire ; and Mr. Raymond, while very sorry to lose his sister's kind, motherly supervision of his family, felt that he could not -Ok PARTINGS. 83 her dissuade her from an arrangement so right and natural, and to which he had long looked forw&rd as a probability. Hov'bver, she was n(.t to leave them for some months at least, uxA during that time Lucy was to learn all she could about housekeeping, in order to be able to fill her aunt's place as well as a young beginner could do. To Lucy, indeed, there mingled with her regret for her aunt's expected depai'^ure, a certain latent satisfaction at the increased importance of her own place in the household; and her ambition was so much stimulated by the hope of fulfilling her new uutics in the most exemplary manner, that it somewhat alleviated her sorrow at the thought of losing the kind aunt who had filled a mother's place. Many were the regrets when the time came for Alick's final departure from Ashleigh to his distant sphere of duty ; and Mr. Raymond, in bidding him a kind farewell, added in an earnest tone the not unneeded admonition: "Alick, my boy, don't forget who says, ' Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all other things shall be added unto you.' " And so the happy T»arty, who had enjoyed together at Ashleigh the pleasant summer days, were scattered, never again to meet there under the same circumstances ; for the autumn, bringing the cold blasts and nipping frosts that scattered the rich summer foliage and made the earth bleak and bare, brought otner changes, far sadder than these. Nelly was the first io whose life came a sudden change. A rumour reached the village that a deck-hand on one of the river steamers had lost his life by a fatal accident, and that the man's name was Michael Connor. It seldom n LUCY RAYMOND. happens that such reports turn out groundless ; and when Mrs. Connor, having heard of it, has^^ned to the wharf to discover what truth there might be m \i, ahe met a comrade of her husband's who had come to announce to his family the sad fact. Mrs. Connor did not profess any deep regret for a hus- band whom she had often asserted to be a good-for-nothing Bcamp. She looked at the matter chiefly in a pecuiuary point of view, and, on making a rapid calculation, came to the conclusion that any deficiency caused by the loss of the small fraction of his earnings that came into her possession would be more than made up by her being relieved of the maintenance of Nelly, for whom she did not consider it her duty any longer to provide. But in Nelly herself Michael Connor had at least one true mourner. She forgot all her father's carelessness and neglect, and remembered only that he was her father, who used in days long past, when her mother was alive, to take liar en his knee and call her his " darlint." When it broke fully on her mind that she should never see him again — that he had left her for ever, as her mother had done — her grief for a while knew no control. Poor child, she had literally no one in the world "belonging to her," so far as she knew, and she felt utterly desolate and forlorn. Find- ing but little comfort at home, where her new mother's cold, unfeeling remarlvS only aggravated her sorrow, she betook herself to Lucy, who had just heard, with great concern, of Nelly's bereavement. She did her best to comfort her ; and though at first the kind words only seemed to make the tears flow faster, by degrees the child was soothed and PARTINGS. 85 i cjilmcd, and able to listen to Mr. Raymond when he laid his hand kindly on her head and told her that she must look to God as her Father now, and must go and " tell Jesus" all her troubles. Then ho made her repeat after him the verse, " When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will . ike me up." "But, Miss Luc^ dd Nelly, as she was going away, " where is it I'm g ive now ? " " Why, is your 1 n. g away V " "Niver a bit, m, .. she says she's kept me long enough now, and she won't keep me any longer." Lucy could scarcely believe that this could be more than one of Mrs. Connor's meaningless threats, and tried to reassure Nelly that it would be all right. But Mrs. Steele, knowing Mrs. Connor's hard, selfish nature, was by no means so sure that there might not be something in it, and was not sur- prised when she appeared next day to say that she thought Nelly's grand friends might do something for her now her poor father was gone, and she had no one to look to her. " But she has you, of course," Mrs. Steele replied. " We ehall be very glad to help you as far as possible, but you have shown yourself well able to support your family." " She ain't one of my family," replied Mrs. Connor, " and I've kept her long enough for all the good I've ever got out of her ; so I don't see that it's any of my business to take the bit out of my children's mouths and put it into hers." Mrs. Connor would probably not have come to this decision had she not been less dependent than formerly on Nelly's assistance. But as her youngest child was now able to run f* i ^, ,su ^a^ >r^3. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) z 1.0 I.I l^|2^ |2.5 |50 ■^" IMIlSi ■^ li£ 12.2 us lAO 2.0 1-25 1.4 ||.6 « 6" ► Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 87tl-4503 '^""^^ 4 86 LUCY RA YMOND. alone, and the eldest could, on an emergency, take care of the rest, and as she now took in most of her washing, she had less need for an additional worker, involving an addi- tional mouth to be fed. Besides, Nelly was a " growing girl," she reflected, and would be always costing her more for food and clothing, so that to be rid of her maintenance would be so much clear gain. She was therefore inexor- able in her determination that Nelly should not remain with her, unless, indeed, the ladies would pay for her board — a proposition which Mrs. Steele declined to entertain. It was taken seriously into consideration by Lucy and her aunt what could be done to provide Nelly with a home. Lucy was eager that she should be at once taken into their own household, to be trained for domestic service ; but this Mrs. Steele thought impracticable at present, as she knew that their own busy, capable handmaid would strongly object to have her time taken up in teaching a girl who would give her so much additional trouble. "But there are other people," she said, "who would be very glad of a child like Nelly, who would cost nothing for wages, to train and make useful. I am going to Mill Bank Farm this afternoon to see about some butter, and I'll see if Mrs. Ford knows of any one v ho would take her." Lucy assented rather reluctantly. It would have been so nice, she thought, to have her protegee immediately under her own charge, to teach and train into a model servant. She had not yet learned the distrust in her own powers which experience gives, and she saw only the bright side of the plan, not the difficulties in its execution. Mrs. Ford's motherly heart was at once roused to pity PARTINGS. 87 for the little orphan's forlorn condition, and to indignation at Mrs. Connor's heartless conduct. " After all the work she's got out of her, too ! " she said ; ** making that poor child drudge away morning, noon, and night. I'm sure she's been worth a deal more to her than the little bit of meat and drink she's given her — ^with a grudge, as I hear from the neighbours. Well, well, it's a queer world." Mrs. Ford promised to try to find out a good place for Nelly, and early next morning she made her appearance, having taken the long walk on one of her busiest days, in order to "talk over Nelly's business," as she said. She proposed to take the orphan into her own family, for a time at least, until some more permanent situation should turn up. "We'll never miss the little she'll want," she said ; " and if we did, I've been often thinking of late that we've been too much taken up with doing the most we could for this world, and been caring too little for the poor that our Saviour says are to be always with us. So my mind would be easier if I were doing this much, at any rate, and the poor thing'U be more likely to get a good steady place if I take her in hand and teach her a bit myself." So it was settled, and Nelly, to her surprise and delight, found herself an inmate, for a time at least, of MiU Bank Farm, though she was made to understand that the arrange- ment was not a permanent one. The present comfort and happiness were enough for her, however, for she was not given to spoiling the enjoyments of to-day by thoughts about the morrow ; and she certainly had never, so far as 88 LUCY RAYMOND. her recollection went, been half so happy as she now was under Mrs. Ford's motherly care, with Bessie for a half- companion, half-teacher, and removed from the sound of the harsh words and tones which had so long been the con- stant accompaniments of her life. One of Mrs. Ford's first cares was to provide her with some needed clothing from Bessie's outgrown garments, which otherwise would have been stowed thriftily away for little Jenny. Lucy added her contribution for the same object , and it was considered a good opportunity for teach- ing her what she so much needed to learn — plain sewing. Mrs. Ford, who was a capital seamstress as well as house- wife, undertook to make Nelly a good needlewoman, if she would be diligent in trying to learn ; and she was too grateful, and too anxious to please, not to try her best, though the long, tedious seams often tried her restless, active spirit. When she found herself getting so impatient that she felt as if she could not sit still any longer, or, at any rate, could not force herself to do the work with patience and care, she would remember the injunction to "tell Jesus" her troubles and di^'^nlties, and the restless spirit would become quiet, and strei-gth to fulfil her good resolutions would come back. As it was too far for her to go to Lucy now for her daily lessons, Lucy resigned her to Bessie's tuition though somewhat imwillingly, for her teaching had become a source of real pleasure to her, and she felt that in it she was doing some definite work for her Saviour. She had not yet got into the habit of looking upon everything she was called in duty to do as work done for Christ, just in proportion as it was done in a spirit of PARTINGS. 89 cheerful faith and dependence, "looking unto Jesus" both as the master and the friend. But dark days were at hand for Lucy too, — days when she would need all the support her faith could give. Mr Raymond's never robust constitution had been for some time gradually failing, though Lucy, seeing him daily, and accustomed to consider her father "not very strong," had not observed it. Late in November, a long, cold drive in sleet and rain to visit a dying parishioner brought on symptoms of fever, which rapidly increased, till the doctor, who had been summoned to attend him, looked very anxious, and pronounced his patient in a most critical condition. Lucy had been so long accustomed to his occasional ill- nesses, that she was slow to admit the idea of danger to her father, the possibility of losing whom had scarcely ever occurred to her mind. Therefore, though she could not help seeing her aunt's extreme anxiety, she resolutely turned her thoughts to the happier prospect of her father's lecovery, when he would again occupy his wonted place, and the house would be like itself again. Even when Mr. Raymond's extreme weakness forced the others to give up hope, Lucy still hoped and prayed, by the sick-bed and in her own chamber, as she had never prayed before. Surely, she thought, if she prayed humbly and earnestly, her prayer would not be denied by Him who has said, "Ask, and ye shall receive ;" and her father would be restored to her. She did not consider that as regards earthly things the promise must be limited, or the condi- tions of human life would have to be altered. If our prayers that our dear ones should be spared to us were M 90 LUCY RAYMOND. always to be granted, when would they ever attain that blessed rest in the Father's house — the haven they have been looking for through all the cares and troubles of their mortal pilgrimage? Mr. Raymond had often longed for the time when his earthly work should be done, and he should be called to the presence of his Saviour — to reunion with his early-lost wife. And now, though in the unconsciousness of his exhausted powers he knew it not, that time had come. His "falling asleep" was as peaceful as the sinking of a child into its nightly slumber ; and Lucy did not realize that it was death, till, in the dark December morning, she stood by the cold white couch on which lay the inanimate form to which, from her earliest days, she had always looked as her protector and guide. It was hard to persuade herself that that cold form was not her father, but that all that had made the living, sentient being had passed to another state of existence beyond her power to follow — beyond her power to conceive. In the strange awe that came upon her, she lost for a time the sense of the desolation of her bereavement— lost all thought for herself, in trying to pierce the darkness which hung between her and the " un- discovered lands" in which both her parents now were. With Fred it was much the same, — an awestruck solemnity at first repressing in both the natural feeling of personal loss. Harry was the only one whose bitter, childish grief broke forth uncontrolled. But there was time in the blank, desolate days that fol- lowed to realize the full bitterness of the bereavement. Once out of the still, solemn chamber, which seemed to r PARTINGS. 91 hush all violent emotion, there were associations at every step, in every room, of him whose place should know him no more, to call forth the uncontrollable agony of tears that had for a time been repressed. And when the still form had been carried to its last resting-place, and the heavy consciousness made itself felt that he was gone, never in any possible event to return to them, it seemed to Lucy as if it would have been too terrible to bear but for the Saviour, to whom she carried her grief, and found that, though He does not always at our asking restore our sick to this mortal life, yet that, when He takes them away, He can and will be a very present " help in time of trouble." But there was already another grief looming darkly in the distance, which Lucy almost shrank from facing. The home that had been hers from her birth must be broken up. The external surroundings in which her life had been always set were to be torn from it ; and any other phase of life seemed as if it must be a dreary blank. She could not then realize the possibility of ever forming new associa- tions, or taking root in any other home. And indeed it is doubtful whether one ever does take root again in the same sense as in the home of childhood, which is linked with the earliest associations of opening thought, and witk all the hallowed ties that cluster around a child's happy home. Other houses are but places of abode, made home by association: that seemed absolutely and in itself "home, Alick had come to Ashleigh as soon as possible after his uncle's death, and was anxious to take his mother at once to the new home he had been preparing for her. Ab to Lucy, 92 LUCY RA YMOND. there seemed to bo but one course advisable. As Mr. Ray- mond could leave only a very slender provision for his family, he had always been anxious that Lucy should have an edu- cation sufficiently thorough to put her in a position to gain her own livelihood by teaching, and a way seemed opened for her to carry out his wishes in this respect. Mr. Brooke, urged thereto by his daughter Stella, had written to Mrs. Steele, offering to receive Lucy into his own family for the next two or three years, in order to give her the advantage of a first-class education, which was, he remarked, " the best he could do for her, as it would give her the ability to do for herself." Lucy shrank from the prospect of so long a residence in a home so unlike the one she was leaving, as from Stella's remarks she felt sure it must be. But to go with Harry to live with Mrs. Steele and Alick, as they kindly invited her to do, in case she could not make up her mind to go to Mr. Brooke's, would, she felt, be imposing far too great a burden on Alick's kindness, though it seemed just the right home for Harry. Fred, who had been summoned from college to his father's deathbed, must return to resume his theological studies, for they all insisted that he should not think of giving up the career which had been his father's desire for him as well as his own. The more Lucy thought about the matter, the more distinctly she saw that there was no other way rightly open to her, especially as, even could she think it right to accompany Mrs. Steele and Alick, she could not, in the new village in the West, expect any edu- cational advantages. But it was with much reluctance, and after many prayers to be strengthened to meet the new ex- I PARTINGS, 93 periences before her, that she gave her decision to go to live for the present in her Cousin Stella's home. Fred, to whom she confided her extreme shrinking from venturing into an atmosphere which her fancy pictured as so cold and imcongenial, endeavoured to reassure her, by re- minding her of what she knew, indeed, but found it diffi- cult to realize, that her Saviour could be as near her in the crowded city as in her quiet country home, since His love is " A flower that cannot die For lack of leafy screen ; " and that it was a sickly Christianity which must necessarily fade and droop when removed from the atmosphere in which it had been originally nurtured. " Well," she said at last disconsolately, " it doesn't matter so very much. I can never be very happy again, now papa is gone ; and the best thing is to think most about the home he has gone to, and try to follow him there." Something of this kind she wrote to her old friend and teacher, Mrs. Harris, who had sent her a letter of loving sympathy. She smiled half sadly when she read Lucy's disconsolate reply. Mrs. Harris had seen enough of life to know that a young heart is not ^h i manently depressed by a first grief ; and she feared for Lucy, if she sliould ti ust to the influencG of sorrow alone to keep her " unspotted from the world." "My dear Lucy," she wrote, " while it is well that you should always cherish your dear father's memory, and keep his counsels and his example always ^v^^ith you as a protect- ing influence, beware of trusting too much to this. He 94 LUCY RAYMOND. \ himself would have told you that it is not him you are to follow, but Him whom he followed, ' Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' This alone can be our strength. Time is strong against our deepest sorrow, and no influence can permanently hold, except the constraining love of Christ. Never lose the habit of looking steadily to Him, and to Him alone, for daily and hourly strength." It was wise counsel, and Lucy in time came to find out how true it was. It is needless to dwell upon the pain of the breaking up, — the packing up and stowing away treasured possessions, so closely associated with the times now passed away; the sor- rowful leave-takings of old frienda, who felt as if they were losing the last link with their beloved minister in the de- parture of his family ; the sad farewell looks at all the well- known home objects, the flower-beds, the gravel walks, the shrubs and trees, every twig of which had such a familiar look. Many a time it seemed as if it must be only a sad dream, that all these things were about to pass from her daily life into a vision of memory. Happily it was winter. Had it been in the fair flush of summer, when her home looked its loveliest, the parting would have been far harder. As it was, it was hard enough ; but she tried to conceal her sorrow from those to whose pain it would have added, though many a tear was secretly shed over even the old grey cat and the gentle petted cow, which were almost home friends. At last all t^ie preparations were completed. The house, stripped of most of its familiar furnishings, wore already a strange, uncomfortable aspect, full of packing-cases and PARTINGS. 95 confusion. Fred had already been obliged to return to college, and Lucy was to be the next to go. Alick was to escort her to the next railway station, and see her on the train which was to take her to the city. It was the first time she had ever travelled alone, and she rather dreaded it; but she knew that it would be very inconvenient for Alick to accompany her the whole way, and she would not admit that she thought the solitary journey at all a formidable one. Poor Nelly, who grieved as much for her friend's de- parture as she had done for her father's death, came on the last morning to say good-bye, although Lucy had already taken leave of her and Bessie at Mill Bank Farm, and had ' made the latter promise to write to her sometimes. *' And it's sorry I am, Miss Lucy, you're going, and you so good to me," sobbed Nelly, when she felt the parting moment was really come. " Well, Nelly, we must both try to remember our Friend in heaven, who has been so good to us both. You love Him, I hope, Nelly, and pray to Him always ?" " Indeed I do, and I always pray God to bless you. Miss Lucy." " Well, I won't forget to pray for you, Nelly, and we know He will hear our prayers," replied Lucy kindly. Acta of Christian kindness often bring their reward even inthi'i life: the "cup of cold water" we give sometimes returns to refresh our own parched lips. It was some com- fort to Lucy, even in this time of sorrow, to feel that she had been enabled to help Nelly to know the Saviour, whom the poor, friendless child seemed to have received into her heart with a true and simple faith. IX. Inlrobuttions. "My God, my Father, while I stiay Far from my home in life's rough way, Oh teach me from my heart to say, * Tiiy will be done.' " ; ■<., ;HE short January afternoon was closing in when Lucy's train drew near its destination. >T^ Gradually thickening clusters of houses, a momentary glimpse of distant steeples, a general commotion and hunting-up of tickets, packages, and bandboxes, betokoned, even to Lucy's inexperienced eyes, that the city was nearly reached. She had made no acquaintances on the way ; but a polite elderly gentleman, who had been sitting beside her, and had occasionally exchanged a kind word with her, seeing that she was alone, stopped to hand her out with great courtesy. "Any one to meet you?" he asked, seeing that she seemed at a loss what to do next. " Yes— that is — I expect " — faltered Lucy, looking 96 1 INTRODUCTIONS, 97 a a g e round to see if Stella was not to be seen among tho hurry- ing crowd. But no familiar face was to be seen ; and tlie gentleman, who had caught only the first word of her answer, hurried off with a friend he met, forgetting all about Lucy. It seemed to her a long time that she stood thet'e, wist- fully watching the people who were meeting their friends, or hurrying away alone ; and her spirits, temporarily excited by the journey, began to sink fast. It seemed so strange that no one should be there to meet her, as her uncle had promised ; and if no one should appear, what was she to do ? At last, after about five minutes had elapsed, a slight, delicate-looking young man, very fashionably dressed, with an eyeglass at one eye and a cigar in his mouth, sauntered along, lightly swinging his cane and looking leisurely around him. Presently he came up to Lucy, and, after a scrutinizing glance, he said, touching his hat : " My cousin Lucy Raymond, I presume ?" and seeing ho was right, he added, with a nonchalant air, " Glad to see you ; been waiting long?" " About a quarter of an hour," Lucy replied, thinking she was speaking the exact truth. " Hardly that," he replied. " I expected to have been here in time, but these trains are never to be depended on." Then he motioned to a cabman, who advauccJ and asked for the checks for the luggage. Lucy had forgotten all about them, and her cousin mentally set her down as " green," while she nervously searched for them. a , ti #- 98 LUCY RAYMOND. " Take your time," he said good-humouredly. They were found at last, and everything being collected, Lucy and her cousin were soon driving away from the station. " You are cousin Edwin, I suppose ?" Lucy ventured to say timidly. "The same, at your service. I suppose Stella posted you up about us all ? You've never been in a place as big as this, have you ?" he said, observing her eager, watching look. "No, never; Ashleigh is hardly more than a village. How is Stella?" " Stella ! Oh, she's quite well ; she was out walking when I left." Lucy's heart sank at the apparent coldness of her recep- tion. Had Stella been coming to visit her^ she would have been watching for the steamboat for an hour before its arrival! "*^,- "Left all well at home?" inquired Edwin. "Oh, I forgot; I suppose you re all broken up there now?" he added, glancing at her black dress and crape veil. " Fred's gone to college again, I suppose ?" " Yes," replied Lucy. She could not have added a word more. It was all she could do to keep back the tears that started to her eyes, as the sad realization that she had no longer a home came back to her. Edwin, however, had happily exhausted his stock of conversation for the present, and Lucy did not try to renew it. After driving, as it seemed to her, an interminably long way, they stopped opposite a tall stone house, one of a row It to Id INTRODUCTIONS. 99 all just alike, and looking very monotonous and sombre to I^ucy's eyes, accustomed to the variety of the Ashleigh houses. Light gleamed already through the hall-door, which was speedily opened ; and the next moment Stella, looking as pretty as ever, rushed down the wide staircase, and met her cousin with an affectionate embrace. " Mamma, here's Lucy," she said as she led the way up the staircase. At its head stood a lady, who reminded Lucy strongly of the pictures of her dear mother, except that there was the difference of expression between a worldly and an unworldly character. Mrs. Brooke never had had — perhaps i• This unexpected rencontre greatly arlded to Lucy's enjoy- ment of her stay at Oakvale. The cousins very soon had tlie pleasure of spending an afternoon in Dr. Eastwood's family, — a Christian household after Lucy's own heart. Now that the first stiffness of their school-relations had been brushed off by the surprise of their meeting, the two girls found each other delightful companions, and soon became fast friends. It was the first timo Lucy had ever found a congenial companion of her own sex, and their friendship afforded a new and ever-increasing delight. They saw each other every day, and often spent the long summer mornings, alike pleasantly and profitably, in reading aloud by turns, from some interesting and improving book out of Dr. Eastwood's excellent library. Mrs. Eastwood often sat by, also enjoyiug the reading, and, by her judicious remarks, directing the minds of her young companions to profitable thought. The book selected was often a religious one, such as some people would have considered only fit for Sundays ; but it was not the less interesting to them on that account, and gave rise to some of their happiest dis- cussions, when each perceived, with delight, how thoroughly the other could appreciate and reciprocate her own deepest feelings. Little Amy would listen attentively at such times, showing by her interest that she comprehended more of what was said than could have been expected. But whenever Mrs. Eastwood thought the conversation beyon* I her depth, or her mind too much excited, she would send her away to play with her own younger children, who were always glad to place all their toys at her disposal, and do all in their power for her amusement. A FRIENDSHIP. 157 At Dr. Eastwood's the readings generally went on under a spreading walnut-tree on the lawn, and Amy would roam at large with the children, or come and rest within hearing, just as she liked. Sometimes she would lie still for hours on the cushions which Mrs. Eastwood had laid on the grass for her benefit, gazing through the flickering green leaves into the blue depths of the sky, her earnest eyes looking as if they penetrated beyond things visible, and held com- munion with thoughts not suggested by any mortal voice. Often in the afternoons, while Amy was safe and happy with her little friends, Mary and Lucy would take a walk of some miles, carrying perhaps some message or comfort for some of Dr. Eastwood's poor patients, or driving with him on some of his distant rounds, or rowing in a boat on the river with one of Mary's brothers, to gather water-lilies, and bring home their snowy or golden flowers in their waxlike beauty to delight little Amy, who was sensitively alive to all natural loveliness. During these expeditions the two girls discussed almost every conceivable topic of mutual interest, and gave each other the history of their previous lives, though Mary's had flowed on almost as uneventfully as Lucy's had done pre- vious to her father's death. They compared notes as to their favourite books, poetry, and theories, their tastes being sufficiently different to give rise to many a pleasant, good-humoured controversy. Sometimes, when deeper chords were touched, they confided to each other some of their spiritual history, — what influences had first brought them to know a Saviour's love, and then led their hearts to Him who had given Himself for them. Mary, who had a 158 LUCY RAYMOND, I i little class of her own at Oakvale, listened with much interest to the account of Miss Preston's parting words to her class, and the influence they had had on her scholars. About her dear departed father, too, and the beloved home-circl? Lucy had much to tell. She said much less about the Brooke family ; and Mary, who could understand how little cougenial was the atmosphere of her uncle's house, respected her reticence. Lucy felt that she had no right to communicate any unfavourable impression of those from whom she had received so much kindness, and whose hospitality and kindness she had enjoyed so long. " I always felt as if I wanted to know you better, Mary, when we were at Mrs. Wilmot's," said Lucy one evening, as they were returning home from a woodland walk, laden with wild- flowers and ferns. Mary coloured a little, and hesitated. '* I'm afraid I was very stiff and selfish, Lucy dear," she replied ; " but mamma used to give me so many cautions about mingling with worldly people, that I thought it was best to keep apart from them altogether. And I was told Mr. Brooke's family were so gay and worldly, that I sup- posed you must be so too ; and so I thought I ought not to get into any intimacy that might lead me into temptation." *' I suppose it is right to try to keep oiit of temptation," said Lucy thoughtfully. " Yes ; but now I can see that I wasn't right in being so distrustful as to be afraid of what came naturally in my way. Mamma says that to be afraid of what may involve temptation, when God's providence, rightfully construed, leads us into it, is something like the dread which keeps A FRIENDSHIP. 159 people from doing their duty in cases of infection ; whereas they should trust that, so long as they do not expose them- selves to it wilfully and needlessly, God will care for them in the path by which He leads them, as well as in circum- stances which look more secure." "Yes, I'm sure that's true," said Lucy, thinking of what Fred had said to her when she had felt afraid to venture into the temptations of her uncle's house. " But then, whenever we get over our fear and feel secure, we are sure to fall into some snare." "Yes," replied her friend, "because we forget our own dependence on Christ for strength, and begin to walk in our own, instead of looking to Him continually for help." " Do you know," said Lucy, " one of my greatest temp- tations was studying for the history prize ! I was so de- termined to have it — so set upon it — that I let it come before everything else, and forgot to ask to be kept from temptation in it, till, just before the examination, I found I had forgotten part of what was to be studied ; and then, in my disappointment, I found out how wrong I had been." " Oh," exclaimed Mary, " I was almost sorry I got the first prize, which I hadn't been expecting at all, for I was sure you would be dreadfully disappointed. You had worked so hard for it — harder than I did." " No, I wasn't disappointed then ; I was sure I shouldn't get it, ar*^ didn't expect even the second prize; and I felt quite satisfied that it should be so, for I had been working in so wrong a spirit, that I could not have felt happy in getting the prize ihat had led me astray." " Well, it's a relief to my mind to hear you say so," replied ' V- M •^^^ftbTl 1 60 LUCY RAYMOND. 1 ii Mary, laughing, " for I felt quite guilty whenever I looked at that book, feeling as if I had by Foine ineoniprehensible accident aiken it from the one who roaiJ •■ deserved it;/' Mary hud as yet known but few tempcationa. Ife" life had been so calm and sLoltere'J, that ;s!ie had haa no ei;{.\.'ri- ence of coiitrary winds, and hpr natuv^J disposition was so equable, that ^he had very littlu consciously to struggle against. PorLups her eiiief temptation, lay in a, !ond«'jcy to placid contemplative Christiunitj, without eufiicient active interest in others; ar»d Lucy'e opp c ^e quolities acted as a counteracting stimulus, while Mary's peaceful spfrit, of trusting faith calmed and soothed Lucy's rather 'u^patient disposition. Thus in all true loving Christian «v)i.i.)panionship we may help each other en, making up what is lacking in one another by mutual edification. One warm Sunday evening, after a very sultry day, Lucy and Amy were sitting together in Mrs. Browne's verandah. Mary had just left them, having walked home with Lucy from the evening service, and they had been discussing the sermon, which had been chiefly on sin and its hatefulness in the sight of God, as well as upon the fountain opened to remove it. After she was gone, they had sat for some tune in silence, watching the fireflies glancing in and out of the dark trees. Suddenly Amy said, " Lucy, do you expect to go to heaven when you die, for sure?" " I am quite sure there is nothing to prevent my going there," said Lucy, "for I know Jesus is abJs and willing to take me there." " Shall I go there when I die, Lu^y ?" she asked, with a solemn earnestness that went to her r;- usia's heart. \ A. FRIENDSHIP. i6i rith a " Why should you not, dear Amy, when Jobua died that you might ? " " But ' God will not look upon sin,' the Bible says, and I have a sinful heart ; I feel it," replied the child. " Well, why should Jesus have died for you if you had not? It was just to take away sin that Jesus came to suffer." *' But it isn't taken away ; I know it's there," persisted Amy, who had evidently been distressing herself with the question how a heart, sinful on earth, could be fit for tho pure atmosphere of heaven. Lucy explained, to the best of her knowledge and ability, that while sin still clings to our mortal natures, Jesus has broken its power for ever, and taken away its condemna- tion, so that when we receive Him into our hearts by faith, God no longer looks upon us as sinful and rebellious chil- dren, but as reconciled through the blood of Christ. And the same blood will also purify our hearts ; and when soul and body are for ever separated, the last stain of sin will be taken away from the ransomed spirit. Amy listened, and seemed satisfied, — at least she never recurred to the subject ; and, so far as Lucy knew, it was the last time that any perplexing doubts clouded the sun- shine of her happy, childlike faith. Pleasant as were the days of their stay at Oakvale, they came at last, like all earthly things, to an end. The warm August weather had passed away, and the September breezes blew cool and fresh, permitting them to ramble 4' jout with comfort even during the hours which they had before been obliged to spend entirely in the shade. The l62 LUCY RAYMOND. seaside party had already been settled at home for a week or two, before it was thought advisable that Amy should bo brought back to the city. At last, however, the sum- mons came, and Lucy spent the last two or three days in revisiting for the last time all the favourite haunts where she had spent so many happy hours. She and her friend did not, however, permit themselves to repine at the end- ing of what had been to them both such a very delightful resting-place in their life-journey ; since " Not enjoyment and not sorrow Is our destined end or way ; Rut to live, that eacli to-morrow Finds us fartlier tlian to-day." Mary, who had delayed her own return to school on her friend's account, was to accompany them to town, to begin her last year at Mrs. Wilmot's. Amy had seemed so well during their stay at Oakvale, that Lucy had become hopeful of her complete recovery. But Dr. Eastwood warned her that the improvement might be merely temporary, and that in any case it was, in his judgment, impossible that Amy could ever be quite strong and well. " And I don't know," he said kindly to Lucy, who felt a sharp pang at the thought of losing her dear little cousin, " that it is well to set your heart on the prolonga- tion of a life which can scarcely be anything but one of weakness and suffering." So with many mingled feelings of hope, and fear, and regret, and many kind farewells from all their Oakvale friends, the young party took their departure, and found themselves soon again among city sights and sounds. ■^ f.^^ ■I XIV. gin ^tfccvpcd^b Jlttognitioit. " For love's a flower thrit will not die For lack of leafy screen ; And Christian hope can cheer the eye That ne'er saw vernal green. Then be ye sure that love can bless Even 'n this crowded loneliness. Where ever-i loving myriads seem to iay, Go ! thou a. : naught to us, nor we to thee : away ! ' "R. BROOKE met the young travellers at the station, anxious about his youngest daughter, whose improved appearance he was much pleased to not.; ; and Stella met them at the door with every demonstration of delight. " It has been so dull here without you!" she exclaimed ; *' the house seems so quiet, after all the fun we have been having at the seaside. I've been teasing papa to lee me go for you, and I would have gone if you hadn't come soon ! " She was looking prettier than ever, Lucy thought ; so blooming, and gay, and graceful, after her seaside sojourn. 163 ,"<,>•.■/.' M V -1 • • 1 64 LUCY RAYMOND. Her cousin could not wonder that sho won her way to most people's hearts, and was forced to admit the contrast be- tween L u" anJ her fragile little sister, whose faint bloom even now did not remove the appearance of ill -health. Put there was on her pale face a spiritual beauty, a repose and peace, which Stella, in all the loveliness of a pure rose- tinted complexion, lustres eyes, and gleaming golden hair, did not possess. It was thj reLection, outwardly, of the " peace of God which passeth understanding." Stella talked all the evening without ceasing, and at night accompanied Lucy to her room, there to go on talking still, enlarging, in a lively, amusing strain, on the adventures of their seaside life^ the "fun," the "splendid bathing," the people who were there, their dress, manners, and conver- sation ; all the flirt tions she had observed, Avith the quick eye of a girl who us yet has no personal interest in such matters. When at last Stella paused in her own nairation to ask questions about Oakvale, Lucy gladly took advan- tage of the break to insist on postponing all further con- versation until the morrow, especially as, she urged, they were keepirT Amy from the sleep she needed so much after her long journey, and accustomed as she had lately been to early hours. Lucy indeed felt determined that the same thing must not happen again on any account, as the con- sequences to Amy of having her mind and nervous system excited so late at night, when she was always too much disposed to wakefulness, might be exceedingly injurious. "Oh, how I wish Stella were more like dear Mary!" thought Lucy, i. she laid her head on her pillow, and com- pared Mary's Hud thoughtfulness with Stella's impulsive, AN UNEXPECTED RECOGNITION. 165 flighty gidflinesa. As to externals, Stella liarl very much the advantage, for Mary Eastwood could not be called pretty, and wa8 rather reserved in manner with those -whom sho did not know well ; but Lucy could not help feeling Mary's great superiority as a companion, when she compared the state of mind in which Stella's stream of gossip had left her, with the elevating, stimulating tendency of her con- versations with Mary on subjects more worthy of immortal beings. They seemed mutually to draw each other on to a sphere far above the petty frivolities on which so many- fritter away powers given for higher ends. Even when they did not touch on topics directly religious, they seemed to be far nearer the Light that is " inaccessible and full of glory," when discussing the working of God's laws and providence in nature and history, than if their minds had been lowered and discoloured by dwelling on the faults, follies, and petty concerns of their neighbours. Sophy, who had been a little fagged and worn out by her incessant round of gaiety, previous to her going to the seaside, was now looking more brilliantly handsome, Lucy thought, than she had ever seen her. Stella had informed her that Sophy's betrothed had been at the seaside with them. " And oh, he's so delightful, you can't think ! So handsome, and good-natured, and oblij^ing ! I can tell you, Sophy looked proud of him there ! Ho gave her the love- liest emerald set; you'll see her wear them. And I'm pretty sure they're to be married next spring, though she won't tell me ; but I'll coax it out of Ada." Lucy thought Sophy must be very happy ; yet she could not help thinking if both she and her lover were really II • m 1 66 LUCY RAYMOND. Nothing Christians, how much happier they would be! Stella had said led her to suppose that ho was ; and if ho were, what an alloy of anxiety and separation in the most important points would mar the perfection of love ! It was with increased zest, and a fuller appreciation of the interest and value of her studies, that Lucy entered upon them once more. The happy weeks at Oakvale had been of permanent benefit to her, in opening new channels of thought and enlarging her sphere of mental vision, both through the books she had been reading, and the comments of Dr. and Mrs. Eastwood, both of whom had thoughtful, cultivated minds. She now studied with very little refer- ence to prizes, or even the approbation of masters, but from a deep interest in the studies themselves, and a feeling of their beneficial effect in leading her to higher ranges of thought. Every new attainment was but a step to a fresh starting-point in the never-ending pursuit of knowledge ; and Longfellow's beautiful lines often recurred to her mind, — " The lofty pyramids of stone, That, wedge-like, cleave the desert aiis. When nearer seen and better known, Are but gigantic flights of stairs." Then the feeling grew to bo more and more strong with her, that every new acquisition — every step in mental discipline which God had given her the opportunity of making — was a talent to be held in trust and used in His service. Mrs. Eastwood had explained that, though we may often have to study during the years of school life without seeing what special use we may be called to make of our acquisitions, still God will undoubtedly find some I i AN UNEXPECTED RECOGNITION 167 uso for whatever power wo li.ave gained while following tho lea to AN UNEXPECTED RECOGNITION. 171 make both ends meet, was at least more excusable than those who, themselves abounding in wealth and luxury, grind down, so far as they can, the poor hirelings who may be in their power. Since then Nelly had faithfully followed the poor Italian, whom, at his own desire, she called '■'• padre ^ It did not to her mean the same as "father," nor would she have given to any one else the name sacred to her own unfor- gotten father. But she was to the poor man as a daughter; and her brown face, though still thin, had lost the pining, wistful look which had been previously habitual to it. Lucy observed the glow of pleasure that lighted up her face when she heard again the familiar sound of the organ in the distance. The padre was very good to her, she said, and though they often had long weary rounds, with a scant allowance of pennies, they always had enough to eat ; and hitherto it had been very pleasant, and she had no harJ scrubbing or washing to do. " I'd have died soon, iMiss Lucy, if I'd stayed at Mrs. YvlUiams'. Was it wrong to r^ome away?" Lucy could not say it was, iii spite of the irregularity of the precedent. " But thQ padre won't be able to go about in the winter time. Miss Lucy, for he iias such a cough and pain in his breast whenever he gets wet or cold ; and some days he's hardly able to play his organ, and then I don't know what he'll do. What could I do, Miss Lucy, to help him?" Lucy promised to consider the matter. She had obtained leave to give the organ-grinder and J^elly a good substan- tial meal in the kitchen, which was greatly relished by both. 172 LUCY RAYMOND. She took down the name of the street in which they lived, and got a minute description of the house, promising soon to visit them. The man was evidently far from strong, and his bright, hollow eye and haggard face, sometimes unnaturally flushed, betokened too surely incipient disease. " And why did you never come to see me, Nelly? You knew where I was," said Lucy, as they were going away. " Oh, Miss Lucy," exclaimed Nelly eagerly, " but I did, three times, but you weren't in ; I was ashamed to come any more. The last times thoy said you were away in the country." " But why didn't you leave word where you were living, and I would have found you out ?" *' Oh, ^liss Lucy, I couldn't think you'd be at the trouble of coming to see me ! " ''Well, I will come, though, now I know where you live," said Lucy as she bade them good-bye. Little Amy had been very much interested in the history of Nelly, as Lucy had told it to her, and had come down to see her. She stood by, putting her thin hand on hers, and looking up wonderingly in her face, exciting Nelly's compassion and interest by her sweet, delicate look. " She's more like an angel than Miss Stella, though I used to think her like one," thought Nelly. Amy asked many questions about Nelly and the " poor man," and begged Lucy to take her when she went to see them. But so long a walk was out of the question for Amy, nor would her mother have consented to let either her or Stella go to such a quarter of the city. Even Lucy's going was a matter for some consideration, but she begged hard to be allowed to fulfil her promise. At last Edwin AN UNEXPECTED RECOGNITION. 173 « good-naturedly so:d he "didn't mind going with Lucy, to see that she wasn't carried off for her clothes, like the little girl in the story-books ; " and thr-y made the expedition together, her cousin waiting outside while Lucy paid her most welcome visit. They found the place a very quiet one, and the street, though poor, not at all disreputable. Edwin gave the best account of it he could, that Lucy might be able in future, without his escort, to visit Nelly, as she occasionally did, accompanied by her friend Mary Eastwood, who sometimes spent the Saturday afternoon with her at Mr. Brooke's. Their visits and little gifts of money were very timely, for the poor organ-grinder w'as growing less and less able to persevere in his uncertain calling ; and though Nelly was j)ractising plain sewing, that she might be able to earn something herself, it was not likely that her exertions could bring in nmch. In these visits to Nelly the two friends soon found ((Ut other pocr people in the same locality, even more urgently needing a kind v/ord and a helping hand. In work of this kind, as in most other things, "it is only the first step which costs." One has only to make a beginning, and straightway one case loads to another, and that interest grows with the work, until to some happy and highly- privileged people it really becomes vheir meat and drink thus to do their Father's business. This new kind of work was a great interest to Lucy, and in planning how best to aid the poor in whom she was interested, and in diligent and hnppy study, the autumn months passed rapidly aNMiy. i \ !l i i XV. And yet His words mean more than they, And yet He owns their praise ; Why should we think He turns awr.y From infants' simple lays?" k ^ji-ww%^S the rutumn deepened into winter, bringing \j^/im!\^ cold, damp days, and chilling, keen winds, little Amy's strength seemed steadily to de- crease, notwithstanding all the care taken to rcltiforce it by the most nourishing diet that money could command. Every delicacy that could tempt her appetite, every kind of nourishment that could strengthen her system, was tried, without success. Dr. Eastwood had been right in his augury, that her seeming improvement had been only temporary, and that the delicately -organized constitution was nob m. juit for the wear and tear of long life. So evident at last did the decline become, that a consultation was held as to whether it would not be advis- able to remove her for the winter to a warmer climate ; but 17i THE FLOWER FADETH. 175 the more experienced physicians were decidedly of opinion that taking her away from her home and family would bo a needless cruelty, and that, since no human skill could now arrest the disease, it was better to leave the littlo patient to live, as long as she might, surrounded by the comforts and the kind nursing at home. This opinion was not fully communicated to her parents, but they instinc- tively felt, what was really the case, that their child was only left in their home because she must ere long be re- moved from it for ever. Lucy had long taught herself to think of such an issue as at least a probability ; but her cousins by no means realized the advanced state of Amy's disease. They per- suaded themselves that, with care, she would " get over" her delicacy, and they would not even think of the possi- bility of 1 fatal termination of it. One cause of this was probably the circumstance that the winter gaieties had commenced, and that invitations, parties, and dress were now uppermost in their minds. Had they been convinced that their little sister was dying, they could hardly have had the heart to join in their usual round of gaiety ; but they easily persuaded themselves of the contrary, and felt no scruples about going on as usual. Stella, who had shot up almost to womanly height within the last year, had assumed the dress and appearance of a " young lady," as distinguished from a little girl. The foretaste of gay life she had had at the seaside had made her impatient to plunge into it at once, and she besieged her parents with entreaties that she might be allowed to ^w^ ^ 176 LUCY RAYMOND. i , " come out" that winter. She succeeded so fax with her ather, who could seldom deny her anything, as to obtain leave to go to as ma ay private parties as she could, without interfering with her studies. But of course, with a limit so indefinite, the bounds were often overstepped. Her love of gaiety only grew with the indulgence of the taste, '^nd she felt really unb *^ py when she had to see her sisters go to a party without her. But late hours and excitement very soon affected a con- stitution which had never before been so severely tried ; and as she would conceal any indisposition when she thought it might keep her at home, the consequences sometimes became serious. At last, her rashness in going out, thinly dressed, one cold winter evening, when she was already suffering from a slight cold, brought on a severe attack of inflammation of the lungs, by which she was prostrated for several weeks, and which left behind a slight cough. This, the doctor warned her, would require the utmost care, to prevent its growing into what might prove very serious indeed. Lucy, of course, owing to her deep mourning, and the school-work which engrossed her mind and time, had had no temptation to mingle in any of her cousins' amusements, though, had it been otherwise, she could not conscientiously have frequented scenes of amusement which she had been taught by her father to consider unworthy of those who have made up their minds to leave all and follow Christ. For the same reason, she had refused Stella's urgent soli- citations to accompany her in occasional visits to the opera and theatre, places of which her father had often told her 1 THE FLOWER FADETH. 177 the spiritual atmosi)here was entirely foreign to that in ■which Christians should seek ever to dwell. Though Stella's ^'Owing descriptions sometimes excited the longing to see thr i.u^gic sights and hear the magnificent music of which they told, she felt that she could not sincerely pray, " Lead us not into temptation," if she wilfully went into it ; nor could she from the heart have asked her Saviour's blessing on the evening's ...nusement. During the general engrossment of the household with Stella's alarming attack, Amy's rapid sinking of strength was not for some time much noticed, except by Lucy, who felt, in spite of her hopes, that the end was drawing near. Lucy had been forbidden to speak to her little cousin about death, as if the avoidance of the thought could have anything to do with delaying the event ; but happily there was no need for doing lo, since her little heart was evidently resting on her Saviour, aud she was thus prepared for what- ever He should send her. Her childlike faith, and her vivid realization of heavenly things, seemed to grow stronger as her bodily strength failcl ^ and though she never specially referred to death, the ai)proach of which a child is not able to realize, her mind was evidently full of thoughts about heaven, about its glories md occupations, about Him who is "the resurrection and the life." She was always asking questions about the childhood of Jesus, — questions which Lucy often found it impossible to answer, — and was never tired of hearing the few passages in the New Testament which referred to it. Some instances of childish sin seemed to weigh upon het u 1^^ 173 LUCY RAYMOND. conscience ; but Lucy rcniiudcd her that the Lamb of God had washed away her sins with H'n own blood, and that the moment we come to Him by fjiith, we are sure of the forgiveness of past sin, as well as of deliverance from its present power. This perfectly satisfied her, and nothmg else seemed to trouble her. The little girl was intensely interested in the poor Italian, who was sinking almost as fast as she was. He seldom now stirred from his chair in the warmest corner of the room, and his cough had become terribly harassing, espe- cially at night. His breathing, too, was much oppressed ; and poor Nelly had often a heavy heart, as the conviction forced itself upon her that she was about to lose the kind friend and protector around whom her warm heart had closely entwined itself. She tried hard to earn a little for his support and her own, by the sewing which she occa- sionally got, often from people nearly as poor as herself ; bi;t her utmost exertions in this way would not have Biuiiccdto keep them from starvation, had it not been for the tunely aid brought by Lucy and by Mary Eastwood, whose well-tiupplied purse was always ready to furnish what was needed for their comfort. Lucy had very little to give of her own, but Mrs. Brooke was sufiiciently inter- ested in her account of the case to be very willing to help, for she was not at all indisposed to benevolent actions, if she had had the energy to discover the way. Amy, too, always iubisted that a portion of the delicacies prepared for her should be kept for " the poor organ-grinder;" and one of her gren test pleasures was in hearing from Lucy how the invalid liked what had been sent him, and how gratefully THE FLOWER FADETH. 179 he sent his thanks to the Httle "signorma." She asked Lucy whether the poor man loved Jesus, and would go to heaven when he died, and seemed much grieved at hearing of his praying to the Virgin, the mother of Jesus. " What a pity!" she would say, " for she can't hear him, nor save him, can she ^ And so his prayers will be of no use!" She lay still for time, considering the matter, and then said, as if a j ifort had come to her, " But Jesus can hear him, laps He will give him what ho needs, though he didn't asi. Him." Lucy would hope so too, and agree with her that when he got to heaven he would know better ; for she had reason to believe, notwithstanding Antonio's prayers to the Virgin, — the renmant of the superstitious faith he had held from childhood, — that he was nevertheless gradually coming to the knowledge of the Saviour as the only mediator and sacrifice for sin. Nelly's treasured card was fastened up conspicuously in their little room, and the rich colours in which the text " Looking unto Jesus " was printed, pleased the Italian's southern love of colour, and led his eye often to rest upon it, as he spent the long hours sitting wearily in his chair. And gradually he came to attach some real meaning to the words, which at first he had regarded merely as a pleasant thing to look at. Nelly would sometimes tell him some of the things Miss Preston said to her about it, which clung tenaciously to her memory ; and how the thought that Jesus was her Friend and Saviour, to whom she must always look in her need, had been her one comfort when left friendless and alone. She IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ,v i 1.0 I.I l^|28 12.5 lis IS 2.0 Hf U£ 1.8 1.25 lU J4 ^ 6" — ► Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 87^-4503 i8o LUCY RAYMOND. often read to him a chapter out of the little Bible which was Lucy's parting gift when she left Ashleigh, and had ever since been Nelly's dearest treasure. And he would always listen with deep interest to the history of the wonder- ful life which has come home to the hearts of thousands in all the centuries which have elapsed since it was lived among the hills and valleys of Palestine. He loved to hear Nelly sing, in her rich, sweet voice, her favourite hymn, " I lay my sins on Jesus," and would sometimes try to join in the strains himself as well as his feebleness would let him. He showed his appreciation of the motto, in his own way, by placing his crucifix above the card, and he would sit for hours gazing silently at both. Lucy, in her frequent visits, often read to him the pas- sages which bear most directly on the love of Christ, and the full and free forgiveness of sin through Him ; and she sometimes added simple comments of her own, preferring, however, in general, to leave God's words to work their own way into his heart. His church prejudices she never ventured to touch, feeling that to do so might arouse them against the reception of the simple gospel, and do him harm, by exciting his mind injuriously and bewildering him with conflicting opinions. She avoided all collision with idea? which had been so long closely intertwined with the only ideas of religion he had, feeling sure that the lighi of gospel truth, once introduced into the heart, would sooner or later disperse the darkness of error by its own power. Except for the one dark foreboding, that became, month by month, and week by week, more distinct, these would have been very happy days for Nelly. Her warm Irish \ I 4 THE FLOWER FADETH. i8i larm, with ideas only :ospel later heart found scope for its action, in continually ministering to the comfort of one to whom she was bound by ties of love and gratitude, and no harsh or unkind word now fell upon her ear. The poor Italian, always of a gentle nature, except when influenced by passion, had ever treated her with indulgent kindness, and she had given him her warm affection in return. Her assiduous attentions were labours of love, and so was the needlework at which she stitched away with diligent though unpractised hands. Coarse, hard sewing it was ; but Nelly did not mind that, in the feeling that she was earning something, however small. While she sat plying her needle through the short days and long evenings of the winter, the invalid's thoughts would wander back to long past, but unforgotten days, and he would amuse Nelly with little bits of his past history. He would describe, over and over again, his childhood's home in the lovely Riviera^ where the intense azure of the sky, and the pure sapphire of the Mediterranean, contrasted sharply with the white glitter of the rocks as they emerged in bold relief from their drapery of rich, deep-hued vegeta- tion. He would tell her about the white Italian village, nestling among the Tine-clad terraces and sloping hill-sides clad with olive and myrtle, and about the trellised house where he was born, and his father's little vineyard, where the rich purple and amber clusters, such as little Amy now sent him as costly luxuries, hung down in rich masses which any hand could pick. Such descriptions were intensely fascinating to Nelly's quick Celtic imagination, and she would speak in her turn of the breezy slopes by the sea wnere she had so often played in days she could still vivitily lS2 LUCY RAYMOND. , remember; of the aromatic scent of the burning heaps of sea- weed, whose smouldering fires she used to fan ; of the fresh, bracing sea-air, and dancing blue waves with their snowy crests of foam, and the distant white sails winging their way to some unknown haven. Their talk always took a sadder tone when the Italian spoke of his later life, and told how he left his quiet village, hoping to make his fortune in the great world as a musi- cian; how his hopes had been gradually crushed down, and he wandered from place to place till he emigrated to America, where the deadly cholera carried off his wife and her infant boy, leaving him only his little daughter ; how, since then, dispirited and weary, he had managed to pick up a living as best he could, gradually forsaking more ambitious instruments for his barrel-organ, till the tide of life, gradually running low, was reduced to its lowest ebb by the shock of his daughter's death, superadded to the decline which had long been insidiously undermining his system. " But it will soon . . ^ver iiow, my child," he said, — " all the trouble and the nursing. You have been very good to the poor forestiere since the povera went to the blessed saints. I ^hall soon see her again, and Anita, and the little Giulio, in the better country that the signorina was reading about, — better, she says, than the patria itself, with its olives and vines. Ah ! I think I see it again, when I dream." Such a speech as this always melted poor Nelly into tears ; and, seeing the pain it gave her, he did not often refer to his approaching death. To Lucy, however, he sometimes spoke of his concern for the future lot of his adopted \} THE FLOWER FADETH. 1S3 daughter, who was again to be left desolate. Lucy herself had been thinking a good deal about it, and wondering whether she could induce her aunt to take Nelly. Amy, however, arranged the matter unexpectedly. She had been asking Lucy, with great earnestness, what poor Nelly would do when the organ-grinder should die; and when Mrs. Brooke next came into the room, she surprised her with the question, " Mamma, may Nelly come and live here when the organ-grinder dies?" Mrs. Brooke looked bewildered, until Lucy explained the matter. She hesitated, and would have put Amy off with the promise that she " would see about it." But Amy was so anxious to have the point settled, that her motlicr at last gave the absolute promise she asked, and Lucy had the satisfaction of announcing to poor Antonio, the next time she visited him, to his great relief and satisfaction, that Nelly's future home, so long as she desired it, should be with Mrs. Brooke « earn, bears; ifer to itimes opted ilOk i. XVI. "Tell me the old, old story. If you would really be In any time of trouble A comforter to me." ^RED came to town for a few days in his Christ- mas vacation, just as Stella was beginning to recover from the severe attack which had pro- strated her. Mr. Brooke's house being so full of sickness, Lucy, though very unwilling to leave Amy, thought it best, on Fred's account, to accept an urgent invitation from the Eastwoods that they should both spend a week at Oakvale. He would thus have a pleasanter vacation than under the circumstances he could have at his uncle's, where he felt himself in the way, and where Lucy had so many demands upon her time that she could see but little of a brother whose visits were so rare. The change of scene was very much needed by her, for the confinement and fatigue of her sick-room attendance had had a depress- ing influence on her health and spirits. It was certainly, in spite of all her anxiety about Amy, 184 ^p M DARKNESS AND LIGHT. 185 a very enjoyable change to the bright, cheerful, Christian atmosphere of Dr. Eastwood's house, and the bracing in- fluence of the outdoor exercise in which the others made her participate. She felt as if it were wrong to enjoy it so much, when Amy, she knew, was dying, and Stella as yet in so precarious a condition. But God sometimes gives, in very trying circumstances, a buoyancy and cheerfulness of feeling quite independent of the circumstances, which seem specially sent to communicate a strength that will be greatly needed in approaching days of trial, — a pleasant " land of Beulah," before the watchers stand quite on the shore of " the dark river." And it can never be right sul- lenly to close the heart in determined sadness against the cheering influences of God's light, and air, and bright sun- shine ; nor can we usually, if we would, act so foolishly and ungratefully. That happy week at Oakvale often seemel to Lucy a sort of oasis of sunshine, as compared with the depressing weeks that preceded and followed it. Oakvale looked scarcely less beautiful now that the sur- rounding hills wore their white mantle of snow, contrasting with the intense blue of the winter sky and the dark green of the pines, while the little river lay, a strip of glittering ice, under the trees, leafless now, which overshadowed its ceaseless ripple in the warm summer days. The young party had pleasant sleigh-rides to see old favourite spots in their winter aspect, and Fred joined the younger children in their skating and snowballing, though he enjoyed much more the walks in which he accompanied his sister and her friend. Mary and he got on as well as Lucy had expected, although she was disappointed that, after their visit was "•> i-"^' — Ti f»ii«ir-- i86 LUCY RAYMOND. over, sliG could not draw from him any enthusiastic praise of Miss Eastwood ; at which she would have been a little vexed, but for the reflection that Fred, unlike most people, never said the half of what he thought. He did not, how- ever, leave Oakvale without a promise to renew his visit during the summer vacation. Lucy, on her return home, found her little cousin evi- dently sinking fast. Her strength was almost exhausted, and she sufTered a good deal from pain and restlessness; but scarcely a complaint ever escaped her lips. She often talked now about going to Jesus, the thought on which her mind seemed most to dwell. Mrs. Brooke, seeing this, at last sent for the minister whose church the family usually attetided on Sundays, that being the extent of their connec- tion with it. But he was a stranger to Amy, — for his mini- sterial visits had never been desired or encouraged, — and though she was grateful to him for coming to see her and praying beside her bed, she could not speak to hiro, as she could to Lucy, about her willingness to go to the happy home which her Saviour was preparing for her. Still her visitor could see enough of the change God had wrought in her heart, to make him marvel, as he took his leave, at the wonderful way in which God sometimes raises up to Himself a witness in the most worldly homes, and perfects praise " out of the mouth of babes and sucklings." The little invalid was sometimes slightly delirious when the hectic fever was at its height, but her wandering fancies were always of gentle and pleasant things. She would ask if they did not hear the sweet singing in her room ; and when Lucy would ask what was sung, would say, "Jeru- I > DARKLESS AND LIGHT. 1S7 salem," meaning " Jerusalem the GoMon," her favourito hymn next to the one she loved best of all, " I lay my sins on Jesus." One night, when she had been asleep for some time, with Lucy only watching beside her, she suddenly awoke, a flash of joy lighting up her face. "Lucy," she murmured faintly ; but when Lucy bent over her, she could catch but one word — "Jesus." Lucy saw a change come over her countenance, which she luid seen once before, and ere the others, hastily summoned, could be with her, the little form lay lifeless, its immortal tenant having escaped to the heavenly home, whither she had been longing to go. No one could help being thankful that the sufferings of the patient little invalid were over. Indeed, with the ex- ception of ^frs. Brooke, Lucy, and Stella, no one showed any profound grief for the death of a child wlio had always been very much secluded, and but little appreciated. But ^Irs. Brooke's sorrow was mingled with some self-reproach that she had not been to her departed child all that a mother should have boen, and she suffered now for the wilfulness which, wL . deprived of one blessing, had turned petulantly from another. Lucy constantly missed her little favourite, and her sorrow for the loss of her father, never quite removed, seemed revived anew by her cousin's death. But she could feel that Amy was infinitely happier in her heavenly home than she could ever have been on earth; and she felt not only that she should join her there, but also that there might be an intercourse and communion of spirit in Christ, incomprehensible to those who look only to things " seen and temporal." wua iS8 LUCY RAYMOND. It was Lucy's greatest solace to visit poor Antonio, and speak to him of Amy's concern for him, and her desire that he should find rest and peace in the love of that Saviour in whom she had so fully trusted. He was deeply touched on heagng some of the things she had said, and the tears came to his eyes when he spoke of her kindness in sending so many things for his comfort. "But," he said with deep feeling, " it was very different for a blessed, innocent child like her, and a sinful man like me." Lucy explained that all are under the condemnation of sin, since none are without it ; and that no sins are too great to be taken away by the Lamb of God once offered as a sacrifice for " the sin of the world." He listened silently, while an expression of hope stole over his haggard countenance; and Nelly told Miss Lucy, with much pleasure, that after that he prayed much less to the Virgin, and his prayers were more generally spontaneous ejaculations, expressing the deeply-felt need of a Redeemer. Stella's grief for her little sister, partly owing, perhaps, to her physical weakness, had seemed more violent than that of any one else. The paroxysms of hysterical crying which frequently came on, and an aversion to take necessary nourishment, very much retarded her recovery, and pre- vented her regaining strength. As the acuteness of her sorrow gradually wore itself out, the unaccustomed feelings of veakness and depression brought on fits of fretfulness, in which all Lucy's forbearance was called for; but she remembered how good-naturedly her cousin had borne with her own fit of nervous irritability, and she generally managed to soothe and pacify her, even when she was most h DARKNESS AND LIGHT. 1 89 .i:^*^^ unreasonable, and tired out the patience of both Sophy and Ada. After the first few weeks had passed, the shadowy liush and solemnity brought by death gradually passed away, and except for the deep black crape of the dresses, and the abstinence from all gaieties, the family life seemed to have returned to its former tone. So far as external signs went, there was no more realizing sense of that invisible world to which one of their number had gone — no more " lookmg unto " Ilim who had been her support in the dark valley — than there had been before. And when a bereavement does not draw the heart nearer to God, there is every reason to fear that it drives it farther from Him. But another heavy sorrow, to one at least of the number, soon followed. One wild, stormy morning in March, when the letters were, as usual, brought in at breakfast-time, Sophy quickly looked up for the welcome letter, with its firm, manly superscription, which regularly appeared twice or thrice a-week. There was one with the usual postmark, but in a different handwriting, and addressed, not to her, but to Mr. Brooke. Sophy's misgivings were awakened at once, and on seeing her father's expression as he hurriedly glanced through the letter, she forgot her usual self-con- trol, and exclaimed in agitated tones, " papa, what is it ?" But his only reply was to lead her from the room, signing to his wife to follow. Sophy did not appear again that day, and the atmosphere of gloom seemed again to descend over the house. Lucy waited long alone, not liking to intrude upon the family distress, till Stella at last returned, still hysterically sobbing. •■'l:->. IQO LUCY RA YMOND. " They say ' troubles never como singly,' " she said, "und I'm sure it's true. Poor Soi)hy! Mr. Langton has been killed by the uiisetting of \\\a carriage. The horso ran uway, and ho foil on his head, and never spoke again. Poor Sophy is almost insensible. I don't believe she understands yet Avhat has happened. Oh, what will sho do?" Lucy's heart was repeating the same question. All her sympathies were called forth by so crushing a sorrow, and as she could do nothing else for her cousin, she prayed earnestly that He who could, would bind up the broken heart. Sophy remained for two days in her own room, and then came down again to join the family circle, evidently trying her best to avoid any outward demonstration of sorrow, though her deadly paleness, and eyes which looked as if they never closed, told how acutely she was suffering. She was not of a nature to encourage or even bear sympathy, and almost resented any instance of special consideration which seemed to spring from pity for her great sorrow. It was only when shut up in her own room that she gave way to the bursts of agonized feeling which, to some extent, relieved the constant pressure upon her heart. AVheu in the family, she seemed to seek constant employ- ment, not in the light reading in which she had been accustomed to indulge, but in books requiring much more thought, and even some effort to master them. Lucy's class-books were called into requisition, and her drawing was resumed, though she now shrank from touching the disused piano. She had a good deal of artistic talent ; and DARkWE^'S AND LIGHT, lyi IS she biore [cy's dug the land had art ever been placed before her as an ennobling pur- suit, she might have attained very considerable excellenco in some of its departments. But hitherto she had confined herself to the execution of a few graceful trifles, since her drawing-lessons had been given up on leaving school. Now, however, she seemed to have taken a fresh start, and copied studies and practised touches indefatigably, without speaking or moving for hours. She would sit, too, for half the morning apparently absorbed in a book ; but Lucy noticed that, while thus seemingly occupied, she would gaze abstractedly at a page for long intervals without seeming to turn a leaf or get a line farther on. Lucy longed to be able to direct the mourner to the " balm in Gilead," whose eflicacy she knew by experience, — to the kind Physician who can bind up so tenderly the wounds that other healers cannot touch with- out aggravating. But she dared not utter a word of the sympathies of which her heart was full, and could only pray that a Higher Hand might deal with the sufferor. One wet Sunday evening in April, Lucy came down in her waterproof cloak and rubbers, ready to set out for the neighbouring church, the one to which she had gone on the first Sunday of her arrival, and which she frequently attended when the weather was unfavourable, or when she had to go alone. She was not sorry when circumstances made this desirable, for she enjoyed the service and the sermon more than she did at the church the family usually attended. The words of the preacher seemed to come with more power and tenderness, — perhaps because he had him- self been brought through much tribulation to know the 192 LUCY RAYMOND. God of all consolation, and had thus been made able to com- fort others " by the comfort wherewith he himself was comforted of God." At all events, it was certain that of the consolation abounding in Christ he was an earnest and able expounder. "What! are you going out when it is so very wet?"» asked Stella, as her cousin entered the room. Sophy, who had been gazing moodily into the fire over the book she was holding, started up, saying, " I think I'll go with you, Lucy. Wait a few minutes for me." Her mother remon- strated a little ; but Sophy's restless longing for change and action of some kind was often uncontrollable, and the two girls set out through the wind and rain, clinging closely together to support each other on the wet and slippery pavement. How earnestly Lucy prayed in silence, as they traversed the short distance, that the preacher they were going to hear might have a special message to the troubled, heavy heart beside her, and how intensely did she listen to the prayers the minister offered up, to catch any petitions that might seem suited to her cousin's need ! She was slightly disappointed when he announced his text, " Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but in me is thy help found," for she had hoped that it would be one of the many beautiful, comforting passages in which the New Testament abounds. But her disappointment wore off as he proceeded with his discourse. He first briefly sketched the history of the rebellion of Israel in departing from the God of her help, and in trans- ferring to the idols of the heathen the allegiance which was — 11 DARKNESS AND LIGHT. 193 due to the living God. He vividly described the " destruc- tion " whioh must be the natural result of such a departure from the source of her highest life. Then he spoke of the means by which God sought to bring her back, — of the purifying judgments which He sent, in love and mercy, to restore her to spiritual health, and of the inexhaiistible supply of "help," of tender compassion and restoring power, with which He was ready to meet her on her return. Having finished this part of his subject, he drew a striking parallel between the ancient Israel and the multl- tades of human beings in every age, who, instead of loving and serving the living God with all their soul, are con- tinually setting up for themselves earthly idols of every variety, which fill up His place in their hearts, and exclude Him from their thoughts. Wealth, splendour, position, power, fame, pleasure,— even man's highest earthly blessing, human love itself, — were set up and worshipped, as if they contained for their worshipper the highest end and happi- ness of his souL What was the cause of all the broken hearts and blighted lives from which is continually ascend- ing such a wailing symphony of sorrow without hope? What but the perverse determination of the heart to find repose elsewhere than in its true resting-place, — ^to set up the very blessings which flow from the hand of its God in the place of the Giver ? Then, in a few touching, earnest words, he showed how God must often, in mercy to the soul, send severe judg- ments and afflictions to bring the wanderers back to their ^'Help;" and of the depths of compassion, of love, of N 194 LUCY RAYMOND. .iH^' tenderness, of healing, of purest happiness, which were to be found in that divine Helper, who hath said, " Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Never had Lucy heard the speaker more impressive, and she thanked God in her heart her cousin should have been brought to listen to truths which she had probably never before heard with any real understJinding of them. Sophy sat back in a corner of the seat, her head resting on her hand, and her face hidden in her thick black veil. She remained almost motionless until the sermon was con- cluded, and then they silently left the church, Lucy not d&ring to speak to her. Before they reached home, however, Sophy suddenly broke the silence by saying, in a low, agitated voice : "Lucy, you seem to be what people call a Christian. Can you say, from your own heart and experience, that you believe all that is true about Christ giving such peace and comfort in trouble ? " Lucy replied, earnestly and sincerely, that she could, — that she had felt that peace and comfort when sorrow had been sent her. "And how does it come? how do you get it?" Sophy asked. "I don't know any other way, Sophy dear, than by going to Him and believing His own words. They often seem to come straight from Him, as a message of com- fort." Nothing more was said, but from that time Sophy's Bible was often in her hands. Its study, indeed, took the place %:i DARKNESS AND LIGHT. 195 corn- Bible place of her other self-chosen labours, and she read it with an attention and interest it had never awakened before. That she did not study it in vain, seemed evident in her softened, gentler manner, in the more peaceful expression of her countenance, and in. the quiet thoughtfulness which she began to show for others. She would sometimes ask Lucy what she thought about a passage of Scripture in which she was interested, and the few words she said about it would give her cousin a clue to the working of her mind. But her habitual reserve had not yet worn off, and Lucy did not venture to trespass upon it. She expressed a desire to accompany Lucy in some of her visits to the poor Italian, who was perceptibly sinking fast with the advancing spring. He had, however, grown much in trust in his Saviour, and in spiritual knowledge, especially since Lucy had procured for him an Italian Bible, which he could read with much more ease and profit than an English one. He seemed now to have a deep sense of the evil of his past careless life, when even the external forms of religion had been given up, and he had been, like the prodigal, wandering in a far country. "And how good is the Father in heaven, that He has a welcome home and a fatted calf for His wanderer!" he would say earnestly, the tears rising to the dark lustrous eyes, that sparkled so brightly in the pale, sunken face. Sophy listened, half wonderingly, half wistfully, to the few and broken, but earnest words in which he told of the pardon and peace he had found in " Looking unto Jesus." " I see the blessed words there all the day," he said, point- ing to the wall, " and they make me glad." 196 LUCY RAYMOND. ■ c "Lucy, you have a card like that," said Sophy, as they left the house. " I wish you would give it to me to keep in my room, ito remind me of that poor man's words." Lucy gladly complied with the request, though she missed her card a good deal, and hoped that its motto might be of use t6 its new owner. Sophy, however, painted the motto in much more elaborate and beautiful workman- ship, had it framed and glazed, and hung it up in her cousin's room one day while she was out, with a little slip of paper attached, bearing the inscription, " "With Sophy's love and hearty thanks." One lovely day in May, when all nature seemed rejoicing in the gladness of the approaching summer, Lucy went as usual to visit Antonio, carrying some of the delicacies which Mrs. Brooke still continued to send him, chiefly for Amy's sake. How often might the rich greatly alleviate the sufferings of sickness in poverty, by timely ^ifts of luxuries, which at such a time are almost necessaries, yet which the poor cannot buy 1 Lucy found the patient unable now to rise, and strug- gling with the suffocating sensation of oppressed breathing. He could scarcely speak, but he listened with pleasure to the few words she read to him; and as she left him, he pressed her hand convulsively, saying in a low, expressive tone, "Good-bye." Lucy felt she should not see him again in life, and was not surprised when Nelly came next day, crying bitterly, to tell her that her adopted father's weary pilgrimage was ended. fc, as DARKNESS AND LIGHT. 197 Tlie poor girl remained in the now desolate home only until the simple funeral was over, and then entered Mrs. Brooke's family, where her warm, grateful heart found comfort in doing everything she could for Miss Lucy, whose presence made her new place seem again a home. XVII. Pome gigain. " And this was once my home ; The leaves, light rustling, o'er me whisper clear, The sun but shines on thee where thou dost roam, It smiled upon thee here !" i]^TELLA had been losing instead of gaining strength since the warm weather came on, and her parents were now really alarmed about her, and were considering what would be the best and most bracing place to send her to during the heat of the summer. But Stella, with an invalid's capricious fancy, had formed a plan of her own, and she insisted, with all her old wilfulness, on its being carried out. It was, that Lucy and she should go toge+her to Ashleigb, to stay at Mill Bank Farm, if lilrs. Ford would consent to receive them as boarders. Her former visit was connected in her mind with pure, healthful, and happy associations, and she thought that the fresh country air, which she so well remembered, and the delicious milk from Mrs. Ford's sleek cows, would do her more good than anything else. It need not be said that the project was a delightful one HOME AGAIN. 199 for Lucy ; and as Ashleigh was certainly a healthy place, it was decided that they should go thither under the escort of Fred, who also wished to pay a short visit to his old home. Bessie wrote that her mother would be delighted to receive them ; and Stella, with more of her old light- heartedness than she had shown for a long time, hurried the preparations for her journey. Nelly was to remain in the house with a kind, trust- worthy woman during the absence of the rest of the family at the seaside. Although she was sorry to lose her dear Miss Lucy, she was much interested in the circumstance that she was going to Ashleigh, and sent many grateful messages to Mrs. Ford and Bessie. To the latter she sent a present of a little silk necktie, bought, with great satis- faction, out of her first wages. Any one who has ever revisited a dearly loved home can easily imagine Lucy's delight, when from the deck of the steamboat her straining eyes caught the first glimpse of the white houses of Ashleigh and the grey church on the hill ; can imagine her delight at recognising the well-knowv faces, and the familiar objects which, after her long absence, seemed so strangely natural ! But the happiness of being once more among scenes so associated with early and happy recollections was not untinged with sadness ; for the vivid- ness with which the old life was recalled made the changes seem as vivid also, and stirred up in all its acuteness the sense of loss, which had of late been partially deadened by the exciting changes of her present life. Every step called up her father's image with intense force in scenes so inter- woven with her memories of him. It was strange to see w 200 LUCY RAYMOND. the house which had been her home from infancy tenanted by strangers, and to miss all the familiar faces of the home circle, whom she had almost expected to find there still. It gave her a dreary sense of loneliness, even in the midst of the many kind friends who were eager to welcome back, both for her father^s sake and her own, the daughter of their beloved pastor. Stella's highest spirits seemed to return when she found herself driving rapidly along the road to the farm in the conveyance which Bessie and her eldest brother — whom Lucy would scarcely have recognised — had brought to meet them. Bessie was not much changed. Her good-humoured face had more sweetness and earnestness of expression than it had once worn, and her manner at home had the considerate, half-maternal air of an eldest daughter. Mrs. Ford, too, was less bustling, with a quiet repose about her hospitable kindliness that gave a feeling of rest and com- fort, and was the result of being less "cumbered about much serving," and more disposed to let her heart dwell on the " better part," on which she now set a truer value. A more perceptible regard for it, indeed, pervaded the whole family, and Bessie and her brother were, both of them, Sunday-school teachers now. Mrs. Ford and Bessie were much shocked at the change in Stella, whose blooming appearance they well remem- bered. Lucy had become so accustomed to her cousin's altered looks, that she thought her looking rather better than usual, under the influence of the change and excite- ment. But Mrs. Ford shook her head mournfully over her in private. "She looks to me in a decline," she said to HOME AGAIN. 201 .'s r |o \ her husband. '•'• I'm afraid she hasn't many yeais before her in tuis world I" But another change besides the external one had come over her, so gradually that Lucy had not observed it till now, when the place brought back so vividly the recollec- tion of the gay, flippant Stella of old. She had certainly grown more thoughtful, more quiet, even more serious; and Lucy observed that her former levity had quite de- parted, and that a flippant remark never now fell from her lips. Her old wilfulness of manner continued to characterize her, but it was owing chiefly to the caprice of disease. She was shy of joining in religious conversation, but seemed to listen with great interest whenever Lucy and Bessie spoke to each other of things connected with the " life hidden with Christ in God." At such times she would look as if she were trying to gain a clue to a mystery which puzzled, and yet intensely interested her. It was with mingled pleasure and sadness that Lucy once more took her seat in her father's church, and listened to the voice of another from his old pulpit. His successor, Mr. Edwards, though a man of a different stamp, resembled him a good deal in the earnestness of his spirit and the simplicity of his gospel preaching. The message was the same, though the mode of delivering it was slightly differ- ent. He received with kindness and courtesy the daughter of his predecessor, and invited her during her stay to take a share in the teaching of the Sunday school, — an invitation which she willingly accepted, and had the pleasure of find- ing in her new class a few of her old scholars. As Stella had a fancy for seeing the Sunday school, } I 202 Li/Cy RA YMOND. • ***' liUcy accepted the invitation, given to them both by Mr. Edwards, to spend with his family the interval between the morning and evening service. Stella's zeal for seeing the Sunday school, however, died out with the first Sunday ; and after that she always remained with Mrs. Edwards, who, being very delicate, and having a young infant, had been obliged to resign her own class, the one now taken by Lucy. Mrs. Edwards was a sweet, gentle woman, over- flowing with Christian love and kindness ; and as Stella at once took a great fancy to her, she exercised a very bene- ficial influence over one who was much more easily swayed by kindness than by any other power. The celebration of the Lord's Supper waa approaching, and as Bessie was looking forward to participating for the first time in the holy ordinance, Lucy gladly embraced the opportunity of making a formal confession of her faith in Christ, and claiming the blessing attached to the ordinance by Him who instituted it. It was pleasant, too, to do so in the very place in which He had first, by the cords of love, drawn her heart to Himself. Solemn as she knew the step to be, she had lived too long on the principle of "looking unto Jesus " not to feel that she had only to look to Him still to give her the fitting preparation of heart for receiving the tokens of His broken body and shed blood ; and in this happy confidence she came forward to obey His dying com- mand. Stella had seemed much interested about the approaching communion, and had asked a good many questions respect- ing it, and as to the nature of the qualification for worthily partaking in it. At last, much to Lucy's surprise, she asked •■^. .^- HOME AGAIN. 203 licr, with a timidity altogether new to her, whether she thought slie might come forward also. It was with difficulty that Lucy could restrain the ex- pression of her surprise at the unexpected question, but she did repress it, and replied : " It all depends on whether you have made up your mind to take Jesus for your Lord and Saviour, and to follow Him, dear Stella ! " " I should like to, if I knew how," she said. " I have been speaking to Mrs. Edwards about it, and she thinks I might come. I know Fm not what I ought to be, and that I've been very careless and wicked ; but Mrs. Edwards says if I'm really in earnest, and I think I am, I may come to the communion, and that I shall be made fit, if I ask to be." Lucy had not lost her faith in the Hearer and Answerer of prayer, but she had been so long accustomed to regard Stella as one who "cared for none of these things," that she could scarcely believe in the reality of so sudden a change. But it was not so very sudden, and Lucy's own earnestness and simple faith had been one means of bring- ing it about. Her daily intercourse with her cousin had, in spite of herself, impressed Stella gradually with a convic- tion of the importance of what she felt to be all-important. And Stella's illness and subsequent weakness, with perhaps a sense of her precarious tenure of life, had combined to make her realize its importance to herself personally, more than she had ever done before. Amy's happy death had made her feel how blessed a thing was that trust in Jesus ■wliich could remove all fear of the mysterious change, so awful to those who have their hope only in the visible «• 204 LUCY RAYMOND. world. Indeed, sho told Lucy that one of her chief reasons for wishing to como to Ashleigh was the vague feeling, derived from her recollections of her former visit, that it would be easier for her to be a Christian in a place so closely associated with her first impressions of living Chris- tianity. And He who never turns away from anv v «. » st 'k Ilim, had answered her expectations, and se'io Le»' a li le helper in Mrs. Edwards, whose simple word:, p i nned to come to her with peculiar power; Hor, 'loa some hidden sympathy of feeling, one person o^ten seems more specially adapted to hel^^ us on than another, and Mrs. Edwards had been a special helper to Stella. Lucy, when she found her cousin so much in earnest, did not dare to advise her on her own responsibility. Stella felt rather afraid of a conversation with Mr. Edwards, but her cousin told her that he was the best person to give her comael in the matter. Her fear of him soon vanished when the conversation was really entered upon, and she found that she could speak to him much more freely than she had previously thought. He talked with her long and kindly, and finding that she had really a deep sense of sin, and that she desired to come to Christ in humble penitence to hjive her sins forgiven and her darkness enlightened, he felt that he had no right to discourage her from the ordinance which is specially designed to cjih;j^lnen and strengthon. At the same time, he took r.-.?-- \<-\ \ \j\diXD. to juer most fully the nature of the solemn vows in which she would take upon herself the responsibilities and obligations of a follower of Christ. It was with a quiet, serious humility, very different from jif^f HOME AGAIN. the fonner mien of the once careless Stella, tliat she, with Lucy and B(?8sie, revcreutly approached the Lord's table, where He graciously ui