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32X

JANET'S
LOVE AND SERVICE

iBi

^t*';

.-5'

Janet's Love and Service.

;,«!

i!;

MARGARET M. ROBERTSON,

AUXnOK OF
'OUniSTIE-, OR, THE WAT HOME," "THE ORPHAN'S OP GLEN ELDER." ETC. ETC.,

V"''

NEW YORK:

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & CO.,

770 Broadv/at, Cob. Qth Street.

1809.

T? 6 5 I

^,,tAW.BENN„r,,,^

1SI>01

"'"^^ity 0, He, ivM^ ^

As the Author of this book resides in a British
Province, she cannot obtain an American Copyright.
Her arrangement zuith the Publishers, however, secJire
to her the usual terms paid to American Authors, and
it is her hope that this announcement ivill be sufficient
to secure to THEM the exclusive right of publication
in the United States.

Margaret Murray Robertson.
Sept. 1st, 1869.

/ e"^ ^■' M t — y t ^ y. ^

■a^i \^ !■'„ ,

J^/^^

^f /• /- y^. ^

Jaiet's Loye and Service.

CHAPTER I.

THE longest clay in all the year was slowly closino- over
the little village of Clayton. There were no loiterers
now at the corners of the streets or on the village square-it
was too late for that, though da^hght still luigorccl. Now
and then the silence was broken by the footsteps of some
late home-comer, and over more than one naiTow close the
sound of boyish voices went and came, from gaiTct to -arret
telhng that the spiiit of slumber had not yet taken possession
of the place.. But these soon ceased. The wind moved the
tall laburnums in the lane without a sound, and the mui-mur
of runnmg water alone broke the stHlness, as the g-ur-lo of
the burn, and the nish of the distant mill<lam met and
mingled m the aii- of the summer night.

In the piimitive village of Clayton," at this midsummer
tune gentle and simple were wont to seek their rest by the
ight of the long gloaming. But to-night there was hght in
he manse-m the minister's study, and in other paits of the
house as well. Lights were carried hurriedly past uncur-
tamed wmdows, and flared at last through the open door, as
a woman s anxious face looked out.

"What can be keeping him?'' she mumm-ed, as she
shaded the flickering candle and peered out into the gather-
ing darkness. " It 's no' like him to linger at a time li£e this.
God send he was at home."
Another moment of eager listening, and then the anxious

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

fjxco was witlidi-aAvn and the door closed. Soon a sound
lu'okc the stiUncsH of the village street ; a horseman (h'c\» up
before the minister's house, and the door was again opened.

" Well, Janet ? " said the rider, throwing the reins on the
horse's neck and pausing as he Avcnt in. The woman curto-
Bcjcd with a very relieved face.

" They '11 be glad to sec you up the stall's, sir. The minis-
ter's no' long home."

She lighted the doctor up the stairs, and then turned brisk-
ly in another direction. Li a minute she was kneeling before
the kitchen hearth, and was stirring up the buried embers.

" Has my father come, Janet ? " said a voice out of the
darkness,

" Yes, he 's come. Ho 's gone up the stairs. I '11 put on the
kettle. I dare say he '11 be none the worse of a cup of tea after
his ride."

Sitting on the high kitchen dresser, her cheek close against
the darkening window, sat a young gu'l, of perhaps twelve or
foui'teen years of ago. She had been reading by the hght
that hngered long at that western window, but the entrance
of Janet's candle darkened that, and the book, which at the
first moment of surprise had di'opped out of her hand, she
now hastily put behind her out of Janet's sight. But she
need not have feared a rebuke for " bhndin' herself " this
time, for Janet w^as mtent on other matters, and piu'sued her
work in silence. Soon the blaze sprung up, and the dishes
and covers on the wall shone in the firelight. Then she
wont softly out and closed the doo]* behind her.

The gui sat still on the high dresser, with her head leaning
back on the window ledge, watching the shadows made by
the firelight, and thinking her own pleasant thoughts the
while. As the door closed, a miu'miu" of wonder escaped her,*
that " Janet had 'na sent her to her bed."

" It 's quite time I dare say," she added, in a little, " and
I 'm tired, too, with my long walk to the glen. I '11 go when-
ever papa comes down."

She hstcncd for a minute. Then her thoughts went away

JAKET a LOVK AND SWIVICE.

to other thinfjs — to licr father, who had boon away all day ;
to her mother, who was not quite well tonight, and had ^j^onc
up stairs, contrary to her usual custom, before her father
came home. Then she thouj^h^^ of other thin.'.'s — of the l)ool£
she had been reading, a story of one who ha^. dai'ed anddono
much in a righteous cause — and then she gi-achially lost sight
of the tnlo and fell into fanciful musings about her own future,
and to tlic building of pleasant castles, in which she and
they whom she loved were to dwell. Sitting in the lirelight,
with eyes and lii)S that smiled, the pleasant fancies came and
went. Not a shadow crossed her brovr. Not a fear canu; to
dim the light by which she gazed into the future that she
planned. So she sat till her th*eam v, ts di-eamed out, and
then, with a sigh, in which there was no ( ^ho of care or pain,
she woke to the pros(!nt, and turned t<> her book again.

"I might see by tl'o tire," she ••id, and in .i minute she
vrnH seated on the floor, her head leaning on her hands, and
her eye fastened on the open page.

" Miss Graeme," said Janet, softly coming in with a child
in her arms, " your mamma 's no' weel, and here 's wee Kosio
wakened, and wautin' her. You '11 need to take her, i'or I
maun awa'."

The book fell from the girl's hand, as she started up with
a frightened face.

" What ails mamma, Janet ? Is she very ill ? "

" What should ail her but the one thing ? " said Janet, im-
patiently. " She '11 be better the mom I hae nae doubt."

Graeme made no attempt to take the child, who held out
her hands toward her.

" I must go to her, Janet."

"Indeed, Miss Graeme, you'll do nothing o' the kind.
IVIrs. Burns is with her, and the doctor, and it 's little good
you could do her just now. Bide still where you are, and
take care o' wee Rosie, and hearken if you hear ony o'
the ither baii'ns, for none o' you can see your mamma the
night."

Graeme took her Httle sister in her arms, and seated her-

JAJSETri LOVE AND SKKVICE.

self on the floor a^ain. Janet went out, and Graeme heard
her father's voice in the passage. She held her breath to
listen, but h- did not come in as she hoiked he would. Slio
heard tliem both go iip stairs again, and heedless of the
prattle of her baby sister, she still listened eagerly. Now
and then the soimd of footsteps overhead reached her, and
in a little Janet came into the kitchen again, but she did not
stay to be (questioned. Then the street door opened, and
some one went out, and it seemed to Graeme a long time be-
fore she heard another sound. Then Janet came in again,
and this time she seemed to have forgotten that there was
any one to see her, for she was wiiuging her hands, and the
tears were streaming down her cheeks. Graeme's heart stood
still, and her white hps could scarcely utter a sound.
" Janet ! — tell me ! — my mother."

*' Save us lassie ! I had no mhid of joii. Bide still. Miss
Graeme. You muuna go there," for Graeme with her little sis-
ter in her arms was hastening away. " Your mamma 's no
waur than she 's been afore. It 's only me that does na ken
about the like o' you. The minister keeps up a gude heart.
Gude forgie him and a' manldnd."

Graeme took a step toward the door, and the baby fright-
ened at Janet's unwonted vehemence sent up a shrill cry.
But Janet put them both aside, and stood with her back
against the door.

" No' ae step, Miss Graeme. The auld fiile that I am ; 'gin
the lassie had been but in her bed. No, I' 11 no' take the
bairn, sit down there, j'ou '11 be sent for if j'ou 're needed. I '11
be back agam soon ; and j'ou '11 promise me that you '11 no
leave this till I bid you. Miss Graeme, I would 'na deceive
you, if I was afi*aid for your manmia. Promise me that you '11
bide still."

Graeme promised, awed by the earnestness of Janet, and
by her own vague terror as to her mother's mysterious sor-
row, that could claim from one usually so calm, sympathy so
intense and painful. Then she sat down again to listen and
to wait. How long the time seemed ! The Hds fell do^vn

Janet's love and service.

over the baby's wakeful eyes at last, and Graeme, gathering
hor owTi frock over the little hrabs, and murmuring loving
words to her darling, hstened still.

The flames ceased to lea^^) and glow on the hearth, the shad-
ows no longer danced upon the wall, and gazing at the
strange faces and forms that smiled and beckoned to her
from the d^dng embers, still she hstened. The red embers
faded into white, the dark forest with its sunny glades and
long retreating vistas, the hills, and rocks, and clouds, and
waterfalls, that had risen among them at the watcher's will,
changed to dull grey ashes, and the dim dawn of the 3ummer
morning, gleamed in at last upon the weary sleeper. The
baby still nestled in her aims, the golden hair of the child
gleaming among the dark ciu'ls of the elder sister as their
cheeks lay close together. Graeme moaned and murmiued in
her sleep, and clasped the baby closer, but she did not wako
till Janet's voice aroused her. There were no tears on her
face now, but it was very wliito, and her voice was low and
changed.

" JNIiss Graeme, you are to go to your mamma ; she 's wantin'
you- But mind you are to be quiet, and think o' your
father."

Taking the child m her arms, she turned her back upon
the startled girl. Chilled and stiff fi*om her uneasy postui-e,
Graeme strove to rise, and stmnbling, caught at Janet's arm.

" INIamma is better Janet," she asked eagerly. Janet kept
her working face out of sight, and, in a little, answered
hoarsely,

*• Ay, she '11 soon be better, whatever becomes of the rest
of us. But, mind, you are to be quiet, Miss Graeme."

Chilled and trembhng, Graeme crept up stairs and through
the dim passages to her mother's room. The curtains had
been drawn back, and the daylight streamed into the room,
but the forgotten candles still ghmmered on the table. Tliero
were several people in the room, standing sad and silent
around the bed. They moved away as she drew near. Then
Graeme saw her mother's white face on the pillow, aud her

a>'

JANETS LOVE AND 8EKVICE.

father bending over her. Even in the awe and dread that
smote on her heart Hke death, she remembered that she must
be quiet, and, coming close to the piUow, she said softlv
" Mother." *^'

The dying eyes came back from their wandei-ing, and fas-
tened on her darhng's face, and the white hps opened with a
smile.

" Graeme-my own love-I am gomg away— and they wiU
have no one but you. And I have so much to say to you."

So much to say ! With only strength to ask, « God guide my
darhng ever ! " and the dying eyes closed, and the smile Hn-
gered upon the pale lips, and in the silence that came next
one thought fixed itself on the heart of the awe-stricken gii-l'
never to be e£faced. Her father and his motherless children
had none but her to care for them now.

y
1-

CHAPTER II.

TT 'S a' ye ken ! Gotten ower it, indeed I " and Janet
1 turned her back on her visitor, and went mutter-
ing about her gloomy kitchen : " The minister no' bemg ono
to Bpeak his sorrow to the newsmongmg folk that frequent
your house, they say he has gotten ower it, do they ? It 's a*
they ken ! "

" Janet, woman," said her visitor, " I canna but think you
ai-e unreasonable in your auger. I said nothing derogatory
to the mmister ; far be it fi'ora me ! But wo can a' see that
the house needs a head, and the bau-ns need a mother. The
minister 's growing gey cheerful like, and the year is mair

than out ; and "

"Whisht, woman Dinna say it. Speak sense if ye
maun speak," said Janet, with a gesture of disgust and
anger.

" Wherefore should I no' say it ? " demanded her visitor.

"And as to speaking sense . But I '11 <io' trouble you.

It seems you have friends m such plenty that you can afford
to scorn and scoff at them at yoiu* pleasm-e. Good-day to
you," and she rose to go.

But Janet had already repented her hot words.
" Bide still, woman ! Friends dinna fall out for a single
ill word. And what witli ae thing and anither I dinna weel
ken what I 'm saying or doing whiles. Sit down : it 's you
that 's um'easonablo now."

This was Mistress Elspat Smith, the wife of a farmer—
" no' that ill aff," as ho cautiously expressed it— a far more
important person in the jiarish tliau Janet, the minister's
maid-of-all-work. It was a condescension on her part to

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

como into Janet's kitchen under any circumstances, she
thought ; and to be taken up sharply for a friendly word
was not to be borne. But they had been friends all their
lives ; and Janet " kenned herscl' as gude a woman as Elspat
Smith, vrcel aff or no' weel aff ; " so with gentle violence she
pushed her back into her chair, saying :

" Hoot, woman I "What would folk say to see you and me
striving at tliis late diiy ? And I want to consult you."

" But you should speak sense yourself, Janet," said her
friend.

" Folk maun speak as it 's given them to speak," said
Janet ; " and wo '11 say nae mail' about it. No' but that the
bairns might be the better to have some one to be over
them. She wouldna hae her sorrow to seek, I can tell you.
Ko that tlioy 're ill banns "

*' We'll say no more about it, since that is your will," said
Mrs. Smith, with dignity ; and then, relenthig, she added,

" You have a full handf ii' with the eight of them, I 'm
sure."

" Seven only," said Janet, under her breath. " She got
one of them safe home with her, thank God. No' that
there 's one ower many," added she quickly ; " and they 're
no' ill bairns."

"You have your ain troubles among them, I dare say,
and are muckleto be pitied "

" Me to be j^itied ! " said Janet scornfully, " there 's no
fear o' me. But what can the like o' me do ? For ye ken,
woman, though the minister is a powerful preacher, and
grand on points o' doctrine, he 's a verra bami about some
things. She aye keepit the siller, and far did she make it
gang — having something to lay by at the year's end as
well. Now, if we make the twa ends meet, it 's man- than I
expect."

" But Miss Graeme ought to have some sense about these
things. Siu'cly she takes heed to the bairns ? "

" Miss Graeme 's but a baini herself, with little thought
and less experience ; and its no' to bo supposed that tho

JANET S LOVE AND 6EUVICE.

rest will take hoed to licr. Tlio little ancs are no' so ill to
do with ; but Ihcso tv,a laddies are just spiiits o' mischief, for
as quiet as Norman loolcs ; and they come home from the
school with torn clothes, till Miss Graeme is just dazed with
mending at them. ^Vnd 3Iiss ^Marian is near as ill as the
laddies ; and poor, woe Rosie, gi-owuig langer and tliinner
every day, till you would thuik the wind would blow her
awa. Master ^U'thnr is awa at his cddication : the best
thing for a' concerned. I wish they were a' safe up to man's
estate," and Janet sighed.

" And is ]Miss Graeme good at her seam ? " asked INIistress
Elspat.

" O ay ; she 's no' that iU. She 's bettei at her sampler
and at the flowering than at mending torn jackets, however.
But there 's no fear but she would get skill at that, and at
other things, if she would but hao patience with herself.
Miss Graeme is none of the common kind."

"And has there been no word from her friends since?
They say her brother has no baii'ns of his own. He might
well do something for her's."

Janet shook her head.

" The minister doosna think that I ken ; but when IVIr.
Ross was here at the burial, he offered to take two of the
bairns, Norman or Hariy, and wee Marian. She 's iikest her
mamma. But such a thing wasna to be thought of ; and he
W"ent awa' no' weel pleased. "Wliether he 'U do onything for
them in ony ithor way is more than I ken. He might keep
Master Arthur at the college and no' miss it. How the
minister is ever to school the rest o' them is no' easy to be
seen, unless he should go to America after all."

Mistress Smith lifted her hands.

" He '11 never surely think o' taldng these motherless bauTia
to yon savage place ! "What could a i him at IVlr. Ross's
offer ? !My patience ! but folk whiles stand in their ain
light."

" Mr. Ross is not a God-fearing man," repHed Janet, sol-
emnly. " It 's no' what their mother would have wished to

ir.

JANKT s LOVE AM.) ai:iivici:.

have her bairns broujjlit up by him. The minister kenned
her wishes well on that point, you may bo sure. And be-
sides, he could never cross the sea and leave any of them
behmd."

" But what need to cross the sea ? " cried Mrs. Smith.
" It 's a pity but folk should ken when they 're Mecl aff.
What could the like o' hun do in a country he kens nothmg
about, and with so many bamis ? "

" It 's for the bairns' sake he 's tliinking of it. They say
there 's fine land there for the working, and no such a tiling
as payin' rent, but every man farming his own land, with
none to say him nay. And there 's room for all, and meat
and clothes, and to spare. I 'm no' siu'o but it 's just the
best thuig the minister can do. They had near made up
their minds af(jre, ve ken."

" Hoot, woman, speak sense," entreated her friend. " Is
the minister to seU rusty knives and glass beads to the
Indians ? Tliat 's what they do in yon country, as I 've
read in a book myself. AYhatna like way is that to bring
up a family ? "

" Losh, woman, there 's other folk there beside red Indians ;
folk that duma sciTiple to even themselves \nth. the best in
Britain, no' less. You should read the newspapers, woman.
There 's one John Caldwell there, a fiiond o' the minister's,
that 's something in a college, and he 's aye writing him to
come. He says it 's a wonderful country for progress ; and
they hae things there they ca' institutions, that he seems to
think muckle o', though what tJir;/ may be I couldna weel
make out. The minister read a bit out o' a letter the ither
night to Miss (iraeme and me."

" Janet," said her fi-iend, " say the truth at once. Tho
minister is bent on this fule's errand, and you 're encourag-
ing in it."

" Na, na ! He needs na encoiu'agement fi*om the like o'
me. I would gie muckle, that hasna muckle to spare, gin
he were content to bide where he is, though it 's easy seen
he '11 hae ill enough bringing up a family here, and these

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

laddies iiccdinf? more ilka year that goes o'er tlieir heads.
And they say yon 's a grand country, and lino cddication to
be got in it for next to nothing. I'm no siu'c Init tlio
best thing he can do is to take them there. I ken the mis-
tress was weel pleased with the thought," and Janet tried
with all her might to look hopeful ; but her truth-telling
countenance betrayed her. Her fnend shook her head
gi-avely.

" It might have doriC, with her to guide them ; but it 's
very dLfforrut now, as you ken yourself, far better than I can
tell you. It would bo little else than a teniptin' o' Provi-
dence to exj)osc these helpless bairns, first to the perils o
the sea, and then to those o' a strange country. Ho 'H
never do it. He 's restless now and imsettled ; but when
time, that cures most troubles, goes by, he '11 think better of
it, and bide where he is."

Janet made no veply, Ijut in her heart she took no such
comfort. She laiew it was no leelmg of restlessness, no
longing to be away fi'om the scene of his sorrow that had
decided the minister to cmigTate, and that he had decided
she very well knew. These might have hastened his plans,
she thought, but he went for the sake of liis children.
They might make tlieir own way in the world, and ho
thought he could better do this in the New World than in
the Old. The decision of one whom she had always rever-
enced for his goodness and wisdom must be right, r^lie
thought ; yet she had misgivmgs. many and sad, as to the
futui'c of the childi'en she had come to love so well. It v^'as
to have her faint hope confirmed, and her strong fears chased
away, that she had spoken that afternoon to her friend ; and
it was with a feeling of utter disconsolateness that she turned
to her work again, when, at last, she was left alone.

For Janet had a deeper cause for care than she had told, a
vague feeling tliat the worldly wisdom of her fri(md could ]iot
help her here, keeping her silent aljout it to her. That very
morning, her heart had leaped to her lips, when her master
in his grave, brief v. .y had asked,

JAN'KT 8 LOVE AND SKKVICK.

"Janet, ■will you go with us, and help mo to take care of
her bairns ? "

And she had vowed to God, and to him, that she would
never leave them while they needed the help that a faithful
seiTant could give. Bat the after thought had come. She
had other ties, and cares, and duties, apart from these that
clustered so closely round the minister and his motherless
children.

A mile or two dovni the glen stood the little cottage that
had for a long time been the home of her widowed mother,
and her son. More than half required for their maintenance
Janet provided. Could she forsake them ? Could any dntj she
owed to her master and his children make it right for her to
forsake those whose blood liowed in her veins ? Tnic, her
mother was by no means an aged v/oman yet, and her son
was a well-doing helpfid lad, who would soon be able to take
care of himself. Her mother had another daughter too, but
Janet knew that her sister could never supply her place to
her mother. Though kind and well-intentioned, she was
easy minded, not to say thriftless, and the mother of many
bairns besides, and there could neither be room nor comfort
for her mother at her fireside, should its shelter come to be
needed.

Day after day Janet wcaiied herself going over the matter
in her mind. " If it were not so far," she thought, or " if her
mother could go with her." But this she knew, for many rea-
sons, could never be, even if her mother could be brought to
consent to such a plan. And Janet asked herself, " "What
would my mother do if Sandy were to die ? And what
would Sandy do if my mother w'ere to die ? And what
would both do if sickness were to overtake them, and me far
away ? " till she quite hated herself for ever tliinking of put-
ting the wide sea between them and her.

There had been few pleasures scattered over Janet's rough
path to womanhood. Not more than two or three mornings
bince she could remember had she risen to other than a hfe
of labor. Even duiing the bright brief yeai's of her married

JA^TKT S LOVE AJJD SERVICK.

life, she had known little respite from toil, for her hiisbancl
had been a poor man, and ho had died suddenly, boft)ro her
son was born. "With few words spoken, and few tears shed,
save what full in secret, she had given her infant to h(!r mo-
ther's care, and gone back agam to a servant's place in tho
minister's household. There she had been for ten years tho
stay and right hand of her beloved fi'icnd and mistress,
" working tho work of two," as they told her, who would
have made her discontented in her lot, with no thought from
year's end to year's end, but how she might best do her
duty in the situation in which God had placed her.

But far away into the futiu'c — it might be years and years
hence — she h)oked to the time Avhen in a house of her own,
she might devote herself entirelv to tho comfort of her
mother and her son. In this hope she was content to strivo
and toil through the best years of her life, livmg poorly and
saving every penny, to all appearance equally indifferent to
the good word of those who honored her for her faithfulness
and patient labcn*, and to the bad word of those who did not
scruple to call her most striking characteristics by less honor-
able names. She had nevei*, during all these years, spoken,
even to her mother, of her plans, but their fulfil men t was none
the less settled in her own mmd, and none the less dear to her
because of that. Could she give this up? Could she go
away from her home, her fiiends, the land of her bu'th, and
be content to see no respite from her labor till the end?
Yes, she could. The love that had all these years been
growmg for the childi'en she had tended with ahnost a
mother's care, would make the sacrifice possible — even easy
to her. But her mother? How could she find courage to
tell her that she must leave her alone in her old age ? The
thought of parting ^'om her son, her " bonny Sandy," loved
with all the deeper fervor that the love was seldom spoken —
even this gave her no such pang as did the thought of turn-
ing her back upon her mother. Ho was yoimg, and had his
life before him, and in the many changes time might bring,
she could ac least hope to see liim ngain. But her mother,

JANET S LOVE AKD SEIIVICE.

already verging on the tlu'cc-scorc, she coiild never hope to
sec more, when once the broad Atlantic rolled between
them.

And so, no wonder if in the misery of her m decision,
Janet's words grew fewer and shai*pcr as the days wore on.
"With strange inconsistency she blamed the minister iov his
determination to go away, l)ut suffered no one else to Ijlamo
lum, or indeed to hint that he could do otherwise than what
was wisest and best for all. It was a sore subject, this
anticipated departiu'c of the minister, to many a one in Clay-
ton besides her, and much was it discussed by all. But it
was a subject on which Janet would not be approached. She
gave short answers to those who offered their services in the
way of advice. She jiresorved a scornful silence in the i)re-
sence of those who seemed to think she could forsake her
master and his childi-en in thcii* time of need, nor was she
better pleased with those who thought her mother might be
left for their sakcs. And so she thought, and wished, and
planned, and doubted, till she dazed herself ^vitll her vain ef-
forts to get light, and could think and plan no more.

" I '11 leave it to my mother herself to decide," she said, at
last ; " though, poor body, what can she say, but that I maun
do what I tliink is my duty, and please myscE The Lord
above kens I hae Httle thought o' pleasiu' myseK in this
matter." And in her perplexity Janet was ready to think her
case an exception to the general rule, and that contraiy to all
experience and observation, duty pointed two w^ays at once.

CHAPTER III.

THE time came when the decision could no longer bo
delayed. The minister was away from home, and
before his return it would be made known formally to his
people tliat ho was to leave them, and after that the sooner
his dcpai-tm-e took place it would be the better for all con-
cerned, and so Janet must brace herself for the task.

So out of the dimness of her spotless kitchen she came
one day into the pleasant light of May, knowing that before
she entered it again, she would have made her mother's heart
as sore as her own. All day, and for many days, she had
been planning what she should say to her mother, for she felt
that it must be farewell.

" If you know not of two ways which to choose, take that
which is roughest and least pleasing to youi'self, and the
chances are it will be the right one," said she to herself. "I
read that in a book once, but it 's ill choosing when both are
rough, and I know not what to do."

Out into the brightness of the Spring day she came, with
many misgivmgs as to how she was to speed in her errand.

" It 's a bonny day, bairns," said she, and her eye wandered
wistfully down the village street, and over the gi-een fields, co
the hills that rose dimly in the distance. The mild aii- softly
fanned her cheek, pleasant sights were round her evciywhere,
and at the garden gate she lingered, vaguely striving under
their influence to cast her burden from her.

"I munhae it owcr," she muttered to herself as she went
on. In each hand she hold firmly the hand of a child.
Mai'ian and little Will were to go with her for safe keepin"- ;

(21)

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

tho lads were at tlio Kcliool, and in iior ab<-;cnco Graeme- was
to keep iho house, and take care of little Hose.

" Ob, Janet ! " she exclaimed, an she went down tlic lane a
bit with them ; " I wish I Avcre goinj,' with you, it 's such, ti
bonny day."

But Janet knew that what she had to say, would bo better
said without her presence, so she shook her head.

" You know INIiss Graeme, my dear, you mun keep the
house, and we would weary cairying wee llosie, and she could
never go half tho distance on her feet ; and mind, if onj'
loddioa call, the short broad is in the ben press, and gin they
begin with (piestions, let your answers bo short and ceevil,
like a gudc baini, and take gude care o' my bonny wee lily,"
added she, kissing tho palo little girl as she set her down.
*' But I needna tell you that, and wo '11 soon bo back again."

The children chattered merrily all tho way, and busy with
her own thoughts, Janet afiswered them without know^ing
what she said. Down tho lano, and over the bum, tlu'ough
green fields, till tho burn crossed theii' path again they
w^ent, " tho near way," and soon tho solitary cottage in the
glen was in sight. It was a very humble homo, but very
pleasant in its lonehness, Janet thought, as her oyo fell on it.
Tho cat sat sunning herself on the step, and through tho
open door came the hum of the mother's busy wheel. Draw-
ing a long breath, Janet entered.

" Wool, mother," said she.

" Wool, Janet, is this you, and the baii'ns ? I doubt you
hadna weel loavin' hamo the day," said her mother.

" I had to come, and this day 's as good as another. It *s
a bonny day, mother."

" Ay, its a bonny day, and a seasonable, thank God. Conio
in by bauns, I sent Sandy over to Fernie a while s;yiie.
It 's near time he wore hamo again. I '11 give you a r)iece, and
you '11 go down tho glen to meet Imn," and, well x)ieased, away
they went.

" I daro say you '11 bo none tho waur of your tea, Janet,
woman," said her mother, and she put aside her wheel, and

•TANKT S I.OVK AM) SKRVICi:.

ontorcd with jn^cjit zeal into her preparations. Janet strove
to liavo patience with her harden a little longer, and sat still
liwteniiig to her mother's talk, askinjjf and answerm^' (jues-
tious on indiJYerent suhjeets. There was no pause. Janet
had seldom seen her mother so eheerfiil, and in a little she
fomid herself wondering whether she had not been exaggerat-
ing to herself her mother's need of her.

" The thought ought to give me pleasure," she reasoned,
but it did not, and she aceused herself of perversity, in not
being able to rejoice, thtit her moth(;r could easily spare her
to the duties she believed claimed her. lu the earnestness
of her thoughts, she gi'cw silent at last, or answered her mother
at random. Had she been less occupied, she might have per-
ceived that her mother was not so cheerful as she seemed, for
many a look of wistful earnestness was fastened on her
dang] iter's face, and now and then a sigh escaped her.

Th ' were very much alike in appearances, the mother and
daughter. The mother " had been "bonnier in her youth, than
ever Janet had," she used to say herself, and looking at hev
still ruddy cheeks, and clear grey eyes, it was not difficult to
believe it. She was fresh-looking yet, at sixty, and though
the hair drawn back under her cap was silvery white, her
teeth for strength and beauty, might have been the envy of
many a woman of half her years. She was smaller than
Janet, and her whole api)earancc indicated iho possession of
more activity and less strength of body and mind than her
daughter had, but the resemblance between them was still
strildng. She had seen many trials, as who that has lived
for sixty years, has not ? but she had borne them better than
most, and was cheerful and hopeful still. When they weio
fairly seated, with the little table between them, she startlc'd
Janet, by coming to the point at once.

" ^\nd so they say the minister is for awa' to America after
all. Is that true?"

" Oh, ay ! it is true, as ill news oftenest is," said Janet, grave-
ly. " He spoke to nio about it before he went away. It 'a
all settled, or will be before ho comes hame the mora."

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

" Ay, as 5'ou say, it 's ill news to tbem that he 's leaving.
But I hope it may be for the good o' his young family.
There 's many a one going that road now."

" Ay, there 's more going than will better tliemselves by the
change, I doubt. It 's no like that all the line tales we hear
o' yon countr}' can bo true."

" As you say. But, it 's like the mhiistcr has some other
dependence, than what 's ca'ed about the country for news.
What 's this I hear about a friend o' his that 's done weel
there ?"

Janet made a movement of impatience.

" Wha should ho bo, but some silly, book-leanied body,
that bides in a college there awa'. I dare say he would be weel
pleased in any countiy, where ho could get plenty o' books,
and a house to hold tliem in. But what can the hke o' him
ken o' a young family and what 's needed for them. K he
had but held his peace, and let the minister bide where he is,
it would hae been a blessing, I 'm sure."

Janet suddeidy paused in confusion, to find herself argu-
ing on the wrong side of the question. Her mother said
notliing, afid in a minute she added,

" There 's one tiling to bo said for it, the mistress aye
thought weel o' the plan. Oh ! if she had been but spared
to them," and she sighed heavily.

" You may weel say that," said her mother, echoing her
sigh. *' But I 'm no sui'e but they would miss her care as
nmcli to bide here, as to go there. And Janet, woman, there 's
aye a kind Providence. Ho tliat said, ' Leave thy fatherless
children to me,' wiiina forsake the motherless. There 's no
fear but they '11 be brought through."

" I hae been saying that to myself ilka hour of the day,
and I believe it siu'clj'. But oh, mother," Janet's voice failed
her. She could say no more.

" I ken weel, Janet," continued her mother, gi'avely, " it
vnll be a gi'eat charge and rcsponsibihty to you, and I dare
say whiles you ai'e ready to run away from it. But 3'ou '11 do
better for them than any linng woman could do. The love

jaxet's love and service.

e's leaving,
ung family.

3lves by the
les we hear

some other

r for newa

done weel

lied body,
lid be weel
r o' books,
ike o' him
m. If he
lere he is,

?clf argu-
ther said

I'oss aye
sj^ared

>ii'g her

care as

there 's

;horIess

're 's no

le day,
e failed

py, "it
I dare
I 'U do
lovo

you bear them, will give you -SN-isdom to guide them, and
when strength is needed, there 's no fear but you '11 get it
The back is aye fitted for the burden. Let them gang or let
them bide, you canna leave them now."

She tm*ncd her face away from her mother, and for her life
Janet could not have told whether the tears that were stream-
ing down her cheeks, were falling for joy or for sorrow.
There was to be no struggle between her and her mother.
That was well ; but with the feeling of rehef the knowledge
brought, there came a pang — a foretaste of the homesick-
ness, which comes once, at least, to eveiy wanderer from his
country. By a strong effort she controlled herself, and
found voice to say,

" I shall never leave them while they need me. I could
be content to toil for them always. Bat, ah ! mother, the
going awa' over the sea "

Her voice failed her for a minute, then she added,

" I hae wakened every momin' with this verse of Jeremiah
on my mind : ' "Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan
him, but weep sore for him that goeth away, for he shall rc-
tmni no more nor see his native country'.' " Janet made no
secret of her tears now.

"Hoot fie, Janet, woman," said her mother, affecting angor
to hide far other feehngs. " You are misapplyin' Scripture
altogether. That was spoken o' them that were to bo carried
away captive for their sins, and no' o' honest folk, follo^^ In'
the leadings o' Providence. If there 's ony application it 'n
to me, I 'lii thinkui'. It 's them that bide at hame that are
bidden weep sore ;" and she seemed much inclmcd to follow
the injunction. She recovered in a minute, however, and
added,

" ] >ut I 'm no' going to add to your trouble. You chnna
need me to tell you I'll have httle left when you're awa.'
But, if it 's your duty to go with them, it canna be your duty
to bide with me. You winna lose your reward striving in
behalf o' these motherless bairns, and the Lord will hae mo
and Sandy in his keeping, I diima doubt."
2

JANET S LOVK AND SERVICE.

There was a long silence after tliis. Each luiew whiit tho
other suffered. Xhere was uo need to speak of it, and so
they sat without a word ; Janet, with the <juiet tears falling
now and then over her cheeks ; her mother, gi-avo and lii-ni,
giving- no outwai'd sign of emotion. Each shrunk, for the
other's sake, from putting their fears for the futiu'e into
words ; but their thoughts were busy. Tlie mother's heart
aclied for tho great wrench that must sever Janet from her
child and her home, and Janet's heart grew sick with the
dread of long weary days and nights her mother might have
to pass, with perhaps no daughter's hand to close her eyes
at last, till the thoughts of both changed to supplication,
fervent though unuttered ; and the bui'dcn of the ^jraj-cr of
each was, that the other might have strength and pojice.

The mother spoke first. " AMicn will it be ? "

"It canna be long now. The sooner the better when onco
it's really settled. There are folk in the parish no weel
pleased at the minister for thinking to go."

" It 's for none to say wliat 's light, and what 's wrang, in
the matter," said the mother, gravely. " I liae nac doubt
the Lord will go with liim ; but it wiU be a di'ear day for
plenty besides me."

" He 's bent on it. Go he will, and I tnist it may be for
the best," Init Janet sighed drearily.

" And how are the bairns pleased with tho prospect ? "
asked her mother.

" Ah. ! they 're weel pleased, bairn-like, at any thought o'
a change. ]\Tiss Graeme has her doubts, I whiles thuik, but
that shouldna count ; there are few things that look joyful
to her at the present time. She 's ower like her father with
her ups and downs. She liasna her mother's cheerful
spirit."

" Her mother's death was an awfu' loss to Miss Graeme,
poor thing," said th'^ mother.

"Aye, that it was — her that had never keut a trouble but
by readin' o' them in printed books. It was an awfu' wtrkc n-
ing to her. She has never been the same siuco, and I doubt

JANKT S LOVE AND SERVICE.

wlitit tlio

t, and so

irs falling

and lu'in,

k, for the

tnro into

er's heart

from her

with the

light have

her eyes

)plication,

prayer of

»cacc.

vhcu once
I no wcel

wrang, in
lac doubt
,r day for

lay be for

:ospcct ? "

bought o'
hink, but
ok joyfid
thcr with
cheerful.

Graenio,

ouble 1)ut
'u' waki^n-
d I doubt

it will be long till she has the same light heart again. She
tries to till her mother's place to them lUl, and when she
finds she canna do it, she loses heart and i)atienco with her-
self. But I hac great hope o' her. She has the ' single eye,'
and (lod will j^iiidc her. I hae nae fear for Miss Graeme."

And Ihen they spoke of mi,ny tilings — settHng then- little
matters of bushiess, and arranging their plans as quietly as
though they looked forward to doing the same thing eveiy
month during the futm'o years as they had done dm-ing the
past. Nothing was forgotten or omitted ; for Janet well
knew that all her time and strength would be needed for the
preparations tliat must soon commeneo, and that no tune so
good as the present might be foimd for her own personal
aiTangements. Iler little savings were to be lodged in safe
hands for her mother's use, and if anything were to happc-n
her they were to be tak(>n to send Sandy over the sea. It
was all done very quietly and calmly. I wiU not say that
Janet's voice (hd not falter sometuiies, or that no mist came
between the mother's eyes and the grave face on the other
side of the table. But there was no sign given. A strong
sense of duty sustained them. A fmn belief that however
jiainful the futiu'e might be, they were doing right in this
matter, gave them power to look calmly at the sacrifice that
must cost them so much.

At length the childi-en's voices were heard, and at the
somid, Janet's heart leaped up with a throb of pain, but in
words she gave no utterance to the pang.

"AVeel, Sandy, lad, is this you," said she, as with mingled
shyness and pleasure the boy came forward at his grand-
mother's bidduig. He was a well-grown and healthy lad,
with a frank face, and a thick shock of hght curls. There
was a happy look in his large blue eyes, and the smile came
very natm-ally to his ratlu>r large mouth. To his mother, at
the moment, he seemed altogether beautiful, and her heart
cried out agauist the ^Teat trial that was before her. Sandy
stood with his hand in her's, while his grandmother ques-
tioned him about the crnyid on which he had been sent, and

JANET'S LOVE AND SEUVICE.

she had time to quiet herself. But there was a look on her
face as she sat there, gently stroking his fair hair with her
hand, that was sad to see. Marian saw it with momentary
wonder, and then coming up to her, she laid her arm gently
over her neck and whispered,

" Sandy is going with us too, Janet Th ore will be plenty
of room for us aU."

" I 've been telUng Menie that I canua leave grannie," said
Sandy, turning gravely to his mother. " You '11 hae Norman
and Harry, and them a', but grannie has none but me."

" And wouldna you like to go with us too, Sandy, man ? "
asked his mother, with a pang.

" To yon fine countiy John Ferguson tells us about ? " said
Sandy, with sparkling eyes. " That I would, but it wouldna
be right to leave gi'annie, and she says she 's ower old to go
so far away — and over the great sea too."

" Nae, my lad, it wouldna be right to leave grani..ie by
herself, and you 'U need to bide here. Think aye first of
what is right, and there will be no fear of you."

" And are you goin' mother ? " asked Sandy, gravely.

" I doubt I 'U need to go, Sandy lad, with the bairns. But
I think less of it, that I can leave you to be a comfori to
grannie. I 'm sure I needna bid you be a good and obedient
laddie to her, when "

It needed a strong effort on her part to restrain the bitter
cry of her heari

" And will you never come back again, mother ? "

" I duma ken, Sand3% Maybe no. But that 's no' for us
to consider. It is present duty we maun think o'. The rest
is in the Lord's hands."

What else could be said ? Tliat was the sum. It was duty,
and the Lord would take care of the rest. And so they
parted with outward calm ; and her mother never knew that
that night, Janet, sending the cliildren home before her, sat
down in the lane, and " gi*at as if she would nevei greet
mair." And Janet never knew, till long years afterwards,
how that night, and many a night, Sandy woke from the

)ok on her
r with her
Qomentary
irm gently

be plenty

inie," said
e Norman
me."
y, man ? "

JANEl'8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

sound sleep of childhood to find his grandmother praying
and weeping, to think of the parting that was di-awing near.
Each could be strong to help the other, but alone, in sflence
and darkness, the poor shrinking heai-t had no power to
cheat itself into the behef that bitter suflfering did not he
before it.

ut?"said
b wouldna
old to go

•ani.ie by
e first of

ely.

ms. But

)mfort to

obedient

;he bitter

lo' for us
The rest

ras duty,
so they
new that
her, sat
ei' greet
crwards,
rom the

CHAPTER IV.

was worsliip time, and the bairns had gathered round
the table with theii* books, to wait for their father's com-
ing. It was a fair sight to see, but it was a sad one too, for
they were motherless. It was aU the more sad, that the bright
faces and gay voices told how httlo they realized* the great-
ness of the loss they had sustained. They were more gay
than usual, for the elder brother had come home for the sum-
mer, perhaps for always ; for the question was being eagerly
discussed whether ho would go back to the college again, or
whether he was to go with the rest to America.

Arthm', a quiet, handsome lad of sixteen, said httle. He
was sitting mth the sleejiy Will upon his knee, and only put
in a word now iind then, when the others grew too loud and
eager. He could have set them at rest about it, for ho knew
that liis father had decided to leave him in Scotland till his
studies were finished at the college.

•' But there 's no use to vex the lads and Graeme to-night,"
he said to himself ; and he was right, as ho had not quite
made up his mind whether he was vexed himself or not. The
thought of the great countries on the other side of the globe,
and of the possible adventiu'es that might await them there,
had charms for him, as for every one of his age and spirit.
But he was a sensible lad, and realized in some measure the
advantage of such an education as could only be secui'cd by
remaining behind, and he knew in his heart that there was
reason in what his father had said to him of the danger there
was that the voyage and the new scenes in a strange land
might unsettle his mind from his books. It cost him some-
thing to seem content, even while his father was speaking to
(30)

JAXET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

icred round
itlicr's corn-
one too, for
t the bright
lT the grcat-
•e more gay
or the suiu-
ing eagerly
;'c again, or

Httle. He
id only put
>o loud and
or he knew
and till his

to-night,"

not quite

not. The

the globe,

lom there,

ind spirit.

casure the

eciu'ed by

there was

nger there

•ange land

hiiB some-

)eaking to

huu, and he knew well it would grieve the rest to know ho
was to bo left liehiud, so he would say nothiiig about it, on
tliis fii'st night of his houiecommg.

Tlicrc was one sad face among them ; for even ^Vi'thur's
honu'coming could not quite chase the shadow tliat had fallen
on Graeme since the night a j'ear ago while she sat dreaming
her dreams in the firehght. It was only a year or little more,
but it might have been three, judging fi*om the change in
her. She was taUer and paler, and older-looldng since then.
And yet it was not so much that as something else that so
changed her, Ai'thnr thought, as he sat watching her. The
cliangc had come to her tlu'ough their gi-eat loss, he knew ;
but he could not have understood, even if it had been told
him, how much tliis had changed hfe to Graeme. He had
suffered too more than v.'ords could evei* tell. Many a time
his heart had been ready to ljm\st with unspeakable longing
for his dead mother's loving presence, her voice, her smile,
her gentle chiding, till he could only cast himself do^vn and
weep vain tears upon the ground.

Graeme had borne all this, and what was worse to her, the
homly missing of her mother's counsel and care. Not one
day of all the yeiu' but she had been made to feel the bitter-
ness of their loss ; not one day but she had striven to fill
her mother's place to her father and them all, and her nightly
heartbreak had been to know that she had striven m vain.
' As how could it be otherwise than vain," she said often to
herself, " so weak, so foolish, so hnpatient." And yet through
aU her weakness and hnpatience, she knew that she nuist
never cease to try to fill her mother's place stiU.

Some thought of all this came into Arthur's mind, as she sat
there leaning her head on one hand, while the other touched
from time to time the cradle at her side. Never before had
he reahzed how sad it was for them all that they had lost
their mother, and how dreary hfe at home nmst have been
all the year. .

"Poor Graeme! and poor wee Rosie!" ho says to himself,
stoopmg over the cradle.

I'l

Janet's love and service.

" How olfl is Rosio ?" asked be, suddenly.

"Near tlirce years old," said Janet.

" She winna be tliree till August," said Graeme in the same
breath, and she turned beseecliing ejes on Janet. For this
was becoming a vexed question between them — the guiding
of poor wee Rosie. Janet was a disciplinarian, and ever
declared that Rosie '* should go to her bed Hke ither folk ;"
but Graeme could never find it in her heart to vex her dar-
ling, and so the cradle still stood in the down-stau's parlor
for Rosie's benefit, and it was the elder sister's nightly
task to soothe the fretful Uttle lady to her unwilling slum-
bers.

But Graeme had no need to fear discussion to-night. Ja-
net's mind was full of other thoughts. One caimot shed
oceans of tears and leave no sign ; and Janet, by no means
sure of herself, sat with her face turned from the light, in-
tently gazmg on the very small piint of the Bible in her hand.
On common occasions the bairns would not have let Janet's
silence pass unheeded, but to-night they were busy discuss-
ing matters of importance, and except to say now and then,
" Whist, bairns ! your father wiU be here !" she sat without
a word.

There was a hush at last, as a step was heard descending
the stairs, and in a minute theu* father entered. It was not
fear that quieted them. Tliere was no fear in the fi'ank,
eager eyes turned toward him, as he sat down among them.
His was a face to win confidence and respect, even at the first
glance, so grave and earnest was it, yet witlial so gentle and
mild. In his childi'en's hearts the sight of it sturcd deep
love, which grew to reverence as they grew in years. The
calm that sat on that high, broad brow, told of conflicts passed,
and victory secure, of weary wandermg through desert places,
over now and scarce remembered in the quiet of the resting-
place he had found. His words and deeds, and his chas-
tened views of earthly things told of a deep experience in
" that life wliich is the heritage of the few — ^that tnie hfe of

JANET B LOVE AND SERVICE.

1 the same
For this
le guiding
and ever
;her folk ;"
X her dar-
lu's parlor
's nightly
ling slum-
light. Ja-
tuiot shed
no means
e light, in-
her hand,
let Janet's
ij discuss-
and then,
,t without

escending

t was not

ne fi-ank,

yng thom.

; the first

entle and

rrcd deep

irs. The

s passed,

rt places,

e resting-

his chas-

jrience in

ne hfe of

lit

God in the soul with its strange, rich secrets, both of joy
and sadness," whose peace the world knowoth not of, wliich
naught beneath the smi can ever more disturb.

" The minister is changed — greatly changed." Janet had
said many times to herself and others during the last few
months, and she said it now, as her eye with the others
turned on him as he entered. But with the thought there
came to-night the consciousness that the change was not such
a one as was to be deplored. He had gi'own older and
gi'aver, and more silent than he used to be, but he had grown
to something higher, pui'er, hoher than of old, and hke a sud-
den gleam of Ught breaking through tlie darkness, there
flashed into Janet's mind the promise, "All things shall
work together for good to them that love God." Her hps
had often spoken the words before, but now her eyes saw the
fulfilhnent, and her faihng faith was strengthened. If that
bitter trial, beyond which she had vainly striven to see aught
but evil, had indeed WTOught good for her beloved friend and
master ; need she fear any change or any trial which the
future might have in store for her ?

" It will work for good, this pain and separation," mur-
mured she. " I 'm no* like the muiister, but fi*ail and foolish,
and wilful too whiles, but I humbly hope that I am one of
those who love the Lord."

"Well, bairns!" said the father. There was a gentle stir
and movement among them, though there was no need, for
Graeme had already set her father's chair and opened the
Bible at the place. She pushed aside the cradle a httle that
he might pass, and he sat down among them.

" We 'U take a Psalm, to-night," said he, after a minute's
turning of the leaves from a " namey chajster" in Chronicles,
the usual place. He chose the forty-sixth.

" God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in
trouble. '

" Therefore will not wo fear, though the earth bo removed,
though the mountains be cast into the midst of the sea."

^if

JANET'S LOVE AND SERVICE.

Aiid thus on tlu'oui^h tlio next,

" Ho shall choose our mhcritauce for us, the excellency of
Jacob, ■whom ho lovod."

And still on through the next tiU the last verso,

" This God is our God forever and ever. He ^^ill bo oiur
guide, even imto death," seemed like the triumphant ending
of a song of praise.

Then there was a momentary hush and pause. Never
since the mother's voice had gi'o^xTi silent in death had the
voice of song risen at worship time. The}' had tried it more
than once, and ftiiled in bitter weeping. But Janet, fearful
that their silence was a sin, had to-night brought the hynui-
books which they always used, and laid them at Ai'tliai''s
side. In the silence that followed the reading Graeme looked
from him to them, but Arthur shook his head. Ho was not
sure that his voice would make its way through the lump
that had been gathering in his throat while his father read,
and he felt that to fail would be dreadful, so there was silence
still.

There was a Httle lingering round the fire after worship
was over, but when Arthur went quietly away the boys soon
followed. Graeme would fain have staid to speak a few
words to her father, on tliis first night of his retiu*n. He was
sitting gazing into the fire, with a face so grave that his
daughter's heart ached for his loneliness. But a j)eevish voice
'from the cradle admonished her that she must to her task
again, and so with a c^uiet "good night, papa," she took her
little sister in her arms. Up stairs she went, murmuiing
tender words to her "wee bu'die," her "bonny lammie,"
her " little gentle dove," more than repaid for all her weari-
ness and care, by the fond nestling of the little head upon
her bosom ; for her love, which was more a mother's than a
sister's, made the burden light.

The house was quiet at last. The boys had talked them-
selves to sleep, and the minister had gone to his study again.
This had been one of Rosie's " weary nights." The voices
of her brothers had wakened her in the parlor, and Graeme

JANETS LOVi: AND SERVICE.

•1,

lillcncy of

ill bo oiir
it ending

2. Never
1 had tiio
id it more
ct, fearful
lie liyiiin-
Artliur's
me looked
3 was not
the lump
bher read,
'as silence

r worship

)oys soon

ik a few

He was

that his

vish voice

her task

! took her

urmuiing

lammie,"

ler weari-

ead upon

's than a

ied them-
dy again,
he voices
1 Graeme

had a long walk with the fivtfid child, before she was soothed
to sleep again. But she did sleep at last, and just as Janet
hcd ihiished lier nightly round, shutting th(! wukIowh and
ban-ing the doors, Graeme crept do\\ii stairs, and entered the
kitchen. The red embers still glowed on the hearth, but
Janet was; in the very act of " resting the lu'c " for the night.

"Oh! Janet," said Graeme, "imt on another peat. I'm
cold, and I want to speak to you."

" Miss Graeme ! You up at this time o' the night ! "What
ails yon cankered fauy now ? "

" Oh, Janet ! She 's asleep long ago, and I want to speak
to you." And before Janet could remonstrate, one of the diy
peats set ready for the morning th-e v;as thrown on the em-
bers, and soon blazed brightly up. Graeme crouched down
before it, with her ann over Janet's knee.

" Janet, what did yoiu* mother say ? And oh ! Janet,
Ai-tlnu' says my father " Tiu'ning with a sudden move-
ment, Graeme let her head fall on Janet's lap, and biu'st into
tears. Janet tried to lift her face.

"Whist! Miss (U-aomc ! AMiat ails the lassie? It's no'
the thought of going awa', sm*ely? You hae kenned this
was to be a whUe syne. You hae Httle to gi-eet about, if you
but kenned it — you, who are going altogether."

" Janet, Aiihiu' is to bide in Scotland."
. " "Well, it wiima be for long. Just till he 's clone at the
college. I dtiro say it 's the best thing that can hajipen him
to bide. But who told you ? "

" Arthur told me after we went up stairs to-night. And,
oh ! Janet ! what will I ever do without hun ? "

" Miss Graeme, my deai* ! You hae done without him these
two years ah'cady mostly, and even if we all were to bide in
Scotland, you would hae to do without him still. He could
na' be hero and at the college too. And when he 's done
with that he Vy'oiild hae to go clsev/here. FamiUes canna aye
bide together. Bairns maun part."

" But, Janet, to go so far and leave him ! It will seem al-
most hke death."

JANETS L(»VK AND SKRVICK.

" But, lassio it 'h no' death. Tlicro 's a great differeiice.
And as for scein;;^ him again, that is as the Lord wills.
Anyway, it doesna become you to cast a slight on your
father's judgment, as though ho had decided unwisely in this
matter. Do you no' tliink it will cost him something to part
from his first-bom son ? "

" But, Janet, why need he part from him ? Think how
much better it would be for liim, and for us all, if iVi'thur
should go with us. Ai-thui* is ahnost a man."

" Xa, lass. He '11 no' hae a man's sense this while yet.
And as for his goin' or bidin', it 's no' for you or me to seek
for the why and the wherefore o' the matter. It might be
better — more cheery — for you and us all if your elder brother
were with us, but it wouldna be best for liim to go, or your
father would never leave him, you may be sure o' that."

Tliore was a long silence. Grjieme sat gazing into the
dying embers. Janet tiu'ew on another peat, and a bright
blaze sprang up again.

"Miss Grreme, my dear, if it 's a vnse and right thing for
your father to take you all over the sea, the going or the
biding o' your elder brother can make no real difference.
You must seek to see the rights o' this. If yom* father hasna
him to help liim with the baims and — ither things, the more
he '11 need you, and you maun hae patience, and strive no' to
disappoint him. You hae muckle to be thankful for — ^you
that can write to ane anither like a printed book, to keep ane
anither in mind. There 's nae fear o' your growin' out o'
acquaintance, and he 'U soon follow, you may be sure. Oh,
lassie, lassie ! if you could only ken ! "

(iraeme raised herself up, and leaned both her arms on
Janet's lap.

" Janet, what did your mother say ? "

Janet gulped something 'iown, and said, huskily,

" Oh ! she said many a thing, but she made nae wark about
it. I told yoiir father I would go, and I will. My mother
doesna object."

" And Sandy ? " said Graeme, softly, for there was some-

^ff

jaxet's love and service.

(liffercTice.
iorcl wills,
t on yoiir
cly in this
ng to part

hink how
if iVi'thur

while yet.
le to seek
might bo
er brother
), or your
hat."

f into the
. a bright

thing for

ug or the

hffcrence.

ler hasna

;he more

ivo no* to

for — ^you

keep ane

in' out o'

u'C. Oh,

arms on

irk about
f mother

as some*

thin'* working in Janet's face, wliich she clitl not like to

see.

" Sandy will aye hao my mother, and she '11 hae Sandy.
But, la.s.si(', it winna bear spealiing about to-night. Gang
awa' to your bed."

Giaeme rose, but did not go.

" But couldna Sandy go with us ? It would only be one
more. Surely, Juiiet "

Janet made a movement of impatience, or entreaty, Graeme
did not know which, but it stopped her.

" Na, na ! Sandy couldna leave my mother, even if it would
be wise for me to take him. There 's no more to bo said
about that." And in spite of herself, Janet's tears gushed
forth, as niortal eyes had never seen them gush before, since
she was a herd lassie on the hills. Graeme looked on, hushed
and frightened, and in a little, Janet quieted herself and
wiped her face with her apron.

" You see, dear, what with on^ thing and what witli an-
other, I 'm weary and vexed to-night, and no' just myself.
Matters will look more hopefnl, both to you and to me, the
morn. There 's one thing certain. Both you and me hao
much to do that maun be done, before we see saut water,
without losing tune in gnimbhn* at what canna be helj)ed.
What with the bairns' clothes and ither things, we winna
need to be idle ; so let us awa' to our beds that we may bo
up bethnes the morn."

Graeme still Imgered.

" O, Janet ! if my mother were only here ! How easy it
all would be."

" Ay, lass ! I hae said that to myself many a time this
while. But He that took her canna do wrong. There was
some need for it, or she would hae been here to-night. You
mami aye .strive to fill her place to them all."

Graeme's tears flowed forth afresh.

" O Janet ! I think you 're mocking me when you say that.
How could / ever fill her place ? "

"No' by your ain strength and \s-isdom sui'ely my lam-

iit!

il'/i<

JAXET S LOVE A^!D SEEVICE.

niic. But it would ]w limiting liis giuico to say Ho canua
make you all you sliould ]n: — all that slic ■svas, and that is
sa^'iiig niuclclo ; for .she wan wise far by the common. But
now gang awa' to your Ijcd, and dinna forgot your good
words. There 's no fear but you will bo in God's kcej)ing
wherever you go."

Janet v»^as right ; they had need of all their strength and
15atiencc during the next two months. AVhen Janet had con-
fidence in herself, she did what was to bo done with a will.
But she had little skill hi making prnx-hases, and loss experi-
ence, and Graeme svas little bettei-. Many things must bo
got, and money could not be spent lavishly, and there was
no time to lose.

But, with the aid of Mrs. Smith and other kind friends,
their preparations were got through at last. Pui'chasos were
made, mending and makuig of gannents were accomplished,
and the labor of packing was got through, to theii* cntii'c
satisfaction.

The muiister said good-bye to each of his people separately,
either in the kirk, or in his own home or theirs ; but ho
shrunk from last words, and fi'om the sight of all the sorrow-
ful faces that were sure to gather to see them go ; so he went
away at night, and stayed with a fi'iend, a few miles on their
way. But it was the faii'ost of summer mornings — the mist
just lifting from the hills — and the sweet air filled with tho
laverocks song, when Janet and tho bairns looked theu' last
upon thcii' homo.

ll'ii:

' Ho caniia
md that is
mon. But
your good
I's kcojaiig

•cngth and
3t liad con-
itli a ^vill.
less Lxjicri-
s must bo
tliere was

id friends,
lases were
Mnplishcd,
icir cntii-e

cparately,
y ; but ho
10 sorrow-
;o he went
s on tlieir
-the mist
with -tho
thcii- last

CHAPTER V.

THEY found themselves on board tho "Steadfast" at
hist. Tho day of saihng was bright and bcautifu], a
perfect (lay for the sea, or the hind cither ; but the wind roso
in the night and the rain game on, and a veiy di'cary morn-
ing broke on them as tho last ghmpsc of land was fading in
Iho distance.

" 0]i ! how dismal ! " mimnur.ed Graeme, as in utter dis-
comfort she seated herself on the damp deck, with her Httlo
sister in her arms. All the rest, excepting her father, and not
excepting Janet, were down with, sca-siclaicss, and even Nor-
man and Harry had lost hoart under its dc} >ressing inlluenco.
Another horn- in the close cabin, and Graeme felt she must
yield too— and then what would become of Rose '? So into a
mist that was almost rain she came, as the day was brcaldu"-,
and sat down with her Httlo sist(;r upon tlie deck. For a
mimitc she closed her eyes on tho drcarmess around, and
leaned her head on a hencoop at her side. Rose had been
fi-ctful and uneasy all night, but now well pleased with tho
new sights around her, she sat stiU on her sister s lap. Soon
the cheerful voice of the Captain startled Graeme.

"Touch and go with you I see, Miss ElHott. I am afi-aid
you will have to ,i.;ive in like the rest."

Graeme looked up v/ith a smile that was sickly cnoufdi.

" Not if I can help it," said she.

"Well, you are a bravo lass to t^.mk of h ■', Mig it with a
face like that. Come and tako a quick walk up and down
the deck with me. It will do you good. Sci down tho
bairn," for Graeme was risuig witli Hose hi her anns. "No
liarm wHl come to her, and you don't look lit to cany your-

(39)

JANETS LOVE AND SLRVICE.

it'iii

•

self. Sit you there, my -wee fairy, till we come back again.
Here, Rutlivcn," he called to a yoimg man who was walkmg
up and do\\ni on the other side of the deck, " come and try
your hand at baby tending. That may be among the %vork
I'equired of you in the backwoods of Canada, who knows ? "

Tlie young man came forward laughing, and Graeme sub-
mitted to be led away. The httle lady left on the deck
seemed very much inclined to resent the unceremrnious dis-
posal of so important a persv:.ri, as she was always made, to
feel herself to be. But she took a look "nto the face of her
new friend and thought better of it. His face was a good
one, frank and kindly, and Rose suftered herself to be lifted
up and placed uj)on his knee, and when Graeme came back
again, after a biisk walk of fifteen minutes, she found the ht-
tle one, usually so fretful and "ill to do with," laughing
merrily in the stranger's arms. She would have taken her,
but Rose was pleased to stay.

" You are the very first stranger that ever she was w illiiig
to go to," said she, gratefully. Looking uj), she did not won-
der at Rosie's fancy for the face that smiled down upon her.

" I ought to feel myself highly honored,' said he.

" I think we 11 give him the benefit of Uttlc Missy's prefer-
ence," said Captain Armstrong, who had been watching
Graeme with a httle amused anxiety since her v/alk was ended.
The color that the exercise had given her was fast fading
from her face, till her very hj^s grew white with the deadly
sickness that was commg over her.

" You had best go to the cabin a wee while. You must
give up, I think," said he.

Graeme rose languidl3\

"Yes, I'm afi-aid so. Come Rosie."

" Leave the little one with me," said iMr. Ruthven. And
that was the last Graeme saw of Rosie for the next twelve
hours, for she was not to escape the misery that had fallen so
heavily upon the rest, and very wearily the day passed. It
jDassed, however, at last, and the next, which was calm and
bright as heart could wish, saw them all on deck again.

JANET S LOVE AKl) SERVICE.

back again,
was walking
omo and tiy
ng the %vork
o knows ? "
Graeme sub-
3n the deck
tnrnious dis-
ajs made, to

face of her
was a good

to be lifted
) came back
ound the ht-
i," laughing
e taken her,

was willing,
lid not won
Q upon her.
e.

ssy's prefer-
watching

was ended.

'ast fading

the deadly

You must

vcn. And
lext twelve
d fallen so
)assed. It
calm and
3ck again.

Tliey came with dizzy heads and uncertain stcjis it is time,
but the sea an- soon brought color to their checks, and
strength to their limbs, and theu* sea life fairly began.

But alas ! for Janet. The thii'd day, and the tenth fomid
her stiU in her berth, altogether unable to stand up against
the power that held her. In vain she struggled against
it. The Steadfasi's shghtest motion was sufficient to over-
power her quite, till at last she made no effort to rise, but lay
there, disgustc'l with herself and all the world. On the calm-
est and fairest days, they would prevail on her to be helped
up to the deck, and there amid sIid "Is and pillows she would
sit, -endm'iug one degree less of misery than she did in the
close cabin below.

" It was just a judgment upon her," she said, " to let her
sec whtvt a poor conceited body she was. She, that had been
making inucldo o' herself, as though the Lord coiUdna take
care o' tlie baii'ns without her help."

It was not sufficient to be told hourly that the children
were well and happy, or to see it with her own eyes. This
aggi'avated her trouble. " Useless body that I am." And
Janot did not wait for a sight of a strange land, to begin to
pine for the land she had left, and what with seasickness and
homesickness together, she had very httle hope that she
would ever see land of any kind again.

The lads and Marian enjoyed six weeks of perfect happi-
ness. Graeme and their father at first were in constant fear
of their getting into danger. It would onl}' have provoked
disobedience ha<l all sorts of climbing been forbidden, for
tlie temptation to try to outdo each other in their imitation
of the sailors, was quite irresistible ; and not a rope in the
rigging, nor a corner in the ship, but they were familiar with
Ixfoie lI^c first few days were over. "And, indeed, they
were wondeifully preserved, tlie f<jolisli lads," their father
acknowledged, and grew content about them, at last.

Before me lies the journal of the voyage, faithfidly kept in
a big book gi\ev. by Ai'thur for the purpose. A full and com-
plete history of the six weeks might be written fi'om it, but I

AO,

jani:ts love and service.

■llH

forbear. Norman or Harry, in language olj.sciu'cly nautical,
notes daily the lojij^itudL; or tho latitud(>, and tlic knots they
make an hour. Thcro arc notices of whales, seen in tho dis-
tance, and of shoals of porpoises seen near at hand. TIk ro
arc stories <^iven which they have lieard in the forecastle, and
hints of practical jokes and tricks played on one another.
The history of each sailor in the ship is {^nvcn, from " hand-
some Franlc, tlio first Yankee, and the Ijcst sinjjer " the boys
ever saw, to Father Abraham, the Dutchman, "with short
legs and sliorter temper."

Graeme writes often, and daily bewails Janet's continued
illness, and rejoices over " wco Rosie's " improved hcaltii'and
temper. AVitli her account of tlie boys and tlicir doings, she
mingles emphatic wishes " that they had more sense," but
on the "/hole they arc satisfactory'. She has much to say of
the bo i 10 has been rcadii:ig — "a good many of Sir
Walter fc... -" that papa does not ol)ject to," lent by Allan
Ruthven. There are Iniits of discussions Avith him about
the books, too ,: and Graeme declares she "has no patience "
with Allan. For his favorites in Sir Walter's books are sel-
dom those who arc persecuted for righteousness' sake ; and
there arc allusions to battles fought with him in behalf of
the good name of the Old Pm*itans — men whom Graeme dc-
hglits to honor. But on the whole it is to bo seen, that
Allan is a favorite with her and with them all.

The beautiful Bay of Boston was reached at last, and with
an interest that cannot bo told, the little party — including
the restored Jiuict — regarded the city to which they were
drawing near. Tlicir ideas of what they were to see first in
the new world had been rather indefinite and vaj^ie. Far
more familiar with the early history of New England — with
such scenes as tho landing of tho pilgrims, a,nd the departm'o
of Roger Williams to a still more distant wilderness, than
with 4ie history of modern advance, it was certainly not such
a city they had expected to see. But they gazed with ever in-
creasing delight, as they drew nearer and nearer to it through
tho beautiful bav.

Janet's love and seevict:.

•cly nautical,
c Iciiots they
■n ill the dis-
aiul. Tlicro
a-ccastlc, and
Hic aiioOior.
L'om "haiid-
'V " tlic bovs
■'with sliort

s continued

I Iicalth'and

cloing-s, slio

sense/' l)ut

^Ii to say of

any of Sir

it by Allan

liiin about

paticnee "
oks arc sel-
sakc ; and

1 behalf of
iracmc de-
scon, that

^, and with
-inchidin'v
they were
!eo first in
',P-io. Far
md— with

doixartui-G
ness, than
' not snch
fch ever in-
t through

" And this is the wonderful new world, that promises so
much to us all," said Man.

" They Imvo loft unstained -what there thoy found,
Froodom to worriliip (iod,"

murmured Graeme, softly. "I'm sui'c I shall hkc the
Aineiican people."

But Allan was taking to heart the thought of parting fi-oni
them all, more than was at all reasonable, he said to hunsclf,
and he could not answer her with a jest as ho might at
another time.

" You must wiite and tell mo about your new home," said
he.

" Yes — the boys will ANiite ; we nil all write. I can
hardly believe that six weeks ago we had never seen you.
Oh ! I wish you were going with us," said Graeme.

"Allan will see Arthur when he comes. Ai'thui- will want
to see all the ct)untrv," said Norman.

" And maybe he wiU hkc the Queen's dommions best, and
wish to settle there," said AUan.

" Oh ! but we shall see you long before Ai'thur comes,"
said Graeme. " Is it very far to Canada ? "

" I don't know — not very far I suppose. I don't feel half
so hopeful now that I am aljout to know what m}' fate is to
be. I have a gTcat dread on me. I have a mind not to go
to my imclo at all, but seek my fortune here."

"But your mother wouldna be pleased," said Graeme,
gi'avely.

" No, She has great hopes of what my uncle may do for
me. But it would be more agreeable to me not to be con-
fined to one com-se. I should lilco to look about me a little,
Ijcfore I get fairly into the treadmill of business."

In her heart Graeme thought it an excellent thing for
Allan that he had his uncle to go to. She had her own ideas
about young people's looking about them, with nothing par-
ticular to do, and quite agreed with Janet and Dr. Watts as
to the work likely to be found for them to do. But sho

"•Sit

JANTr'a LOVE AXI) SKRVICE,

thought it would be very' nice for them all, if instead of
setting off at onco for Canada, Allan might have gone with
them for a little while. Before she could say this, however,
Janet spoke. .

" Ay, that 's bairn-like, though you hae a man's stature.
I dare say you would think it a braw thing to bo at naebody's
bid(hng ; but, my lad, it 's ae' tiling to hae a friend's house,
and a welcome waiting you in a strange land hke this, and it 's
anither thing to sit solitary in a bare lodging, even though
you may hae hberty to come and go at your ain will. If
you 're hke the lads that I ken' maist about, you '11 be none
the worse of a little wholesome restramt. Be thankful for
your mercies.

Allan laughed good-humoredly.

But really, Mrs. Nasmyth, you are too hard on me. Just
think what a country this is. Think of the mountains, and
rivers and lakes, and of all these wonderful forests and
prairiop that Norman reads about, and is it strange that I
should grudge myself to a dull counting-room, ■svith all these
thing!;-' ( en^'oy ? It is not the thought of the restraint that
troubles me. I only fear I shall become too soon content
with the routine, till I forget how to enjoy anything but the
making and counthig of money. I am siu'e anything would
be better than to come to that."

" You '11 hae many things between you and the like o' that,
if you do your duty. You have them you are going to, and
them you hae left — youi* mother and brother. And though
you had none o' them, you could aye find some poor body to
be kmd to, to keep your heart soft. Are you to bide in jour
uncle's house ? "

" I don't know. IMi'S. Peter Stone, that was home last
year, told us that my uncle Hves in the country, and liis
clerks live in the town anywhere they Hke. I shall do as the
rest do I suppose. All the better — I shall be the more able
to do what I Hke with my leisure."

" Ay, it 's aye Hberty that the like o' you deHght in. Weel,
see that you make a good use of it, that *s the chief thing.

jani:t's ix)VE and service.

instead of
3 goDc with
s, however,

I's statuvo.
-J naebody's
tid's house,
lis, and it 's
;^en though
n will. If
11 be none
lankful for

me. Just
itains, and
(rests and
ige that I
1 all these
a*aint that
n content
ig but the
ing would

le o' that,
ig to, and
id though
»r body to
e in ^our

lome last
and liis
do as tho
nore able

a. "Weel,
ef tiling.

Eead yoiu* Bible and gang to the khk, and there 's no fear o'
you. And dinna forget to write to yoiu* mother. She 's had
many a weary thought about you 'cro this time, I '11 warrant."

" I dai'csay I shall be content enough. But it seems like
parting from home again, to think of leaving you all. My
bonnic wee Rosie, what shall I ever do without you ?" said
Allan, caressing the httle one who had clambered on his knee.

"And what shall we do without you? " ex'-laimcd a chorus
of voices ; and Norman added,

" WHiat is the use of your going all the way to Canada,
when there 's enough for you to do here. Come with us,
Allan, man, and never mind your uncle."

" And what will you do for him, in case he should give his
uncle up for you ?" demanded Janet, sharply.

" Oh ! he '11 get just what v/e '11 get om'sclvcs, a chance to
make his own way, and I doubt whether he 'U get more
where he 's going. I 've no faith in rich uncles." Allan
laughed.

" Thank you, Norman, lad. I must go to Canada first,
however, whether I stay there or not. Maj-bo you will see
me agam, sooner than I think now. Surely, i:i the great
town before us, there might be found work, and a place for
me."

Far away before them, stretched the twinkling hghts of
the town, and silence fcU upon them as they watched them.
In another day they would be among the thousands who
lived, and labored, and suffered m it. "What awaited them
there ? Not that they feared the future, or doubted a wel-
come. Indeed, they were too young to think much of pos-
sible evils. A new life was opening before them, no fear
but it would be a happy one. Graeme had seen more trouble
than the rest, being older, and she was naturally less hope-
ful, but then she had no fear for them all, only the thought
that they were about to enter on a new, untried life, made
her excited and anxious, and the thought of partiiig with
their friend made her sad.

As for Janet, she was herself again. Her coui'age return-

JANETS LOVK AND bJTvVlCK.

il i

i I

cd w'lion tlio sGa-siclincr-is departed, aud now sLo was ready
"to put a Htout heart to a still" brae" as of old. "Disjasldt
loolduf^" slio was, and not so strong as she used to be, but
slio was as active as ever, and more than thankful to be able
to k(>ep her feet again. She had been busy all the morning,
overhauling the belongings of the family, preparatory to
landing, much to the discomfort of all concemcLL All the
mornmg Graeme had submitted with a passably good gi*ace
toiler cross- questionings as to the "guiding" of this and
that, while she had l)een unable to give personal supervision
to family matters. Thankful to sec her at her post again,
Graeme tried to make apparent her own good management
of matters in general, during the voyage, but she was only
partially successful. Tlicre were far more rents and stains,
and soiled garments, than Janet considered at all necessary,
and besides many familiar articles of wearing apparel were
missing, after due search made. Li vain Graeme begged
her never to mind just now. They were in the big blue
chest, or the little brovai one, she couldna just mind where
she had put them, but of course they would be found, when
all the boxes were oi)ened.

" Maybe no," said Janet. " There are some long fingers,
I doubt, in the steerage yonder. Miss Graeme, my dear, we"
would need to bo carefa'. If I 'm no' mistaken, I saw one o'
Norman's spotted handkerchiefs about the neck o' j'on lang
Johnny Heeraan, and yon little Iiish lassie ga 'ed past mo
the day, with a pinafore very like one o' Menie's. I maun ha'
a look at it again."

" Oh, Janet ! never mind. I gave wee Norah the pinafore,
and the old bro^A^l frock besides. She had mucih need of them.
And poor Johnny came on board on the pik^t boat you ken,
and he hadna a change, and Norman gave him the hand-
kerchief and an old waistcoat of papa's, — and — "

Janet's hands were uplifted in consternation.

" Keep 's and guide 's lassie — that I should say such a word.
Yoiu" papa hadna an old waistcoat in his possession. What
for did vou do the like o' that ? The like o' Norman or

. iiil.

JANKTS U)\i: AND PKUVICK.

iis ready
Disj.'isldt
bo, but
o bo ablo
morning',
■atory to
AU' the
>ocl grace
this and
pcrvision
it again,
ag'cmcnt
was only
d stains,
3ccssary,
rcl were
! begged
big blue
d where
d, when

fingers,
lear, we*
\v one o'
on lang
past nie
aun ha'

inafore,
f them.
on Ifcn,
hand-

i ^vord.

Wliat

[nan or

Menic might bo excused, \mi you that I thought had sorao
sense and <lisc'rotion. Yoiu" father's waistcoat ! Heard auy-
bodv ever the like? You may bo thanlcful that vou hac some-
body that kens the Vidue of good ckjthos, to take care of you
and them — "

" Oil ! I'm thankful as you could wish," said Graeme,
laughing. " I would rather see you sittuig there, in the inidst
of those clothes, than to see the Queen on her tin-one. I
confess to the waistcoat, and some other things, but minil,
I 'ni responsible no longt;r. I resign my office of general
care-taker to you. Success to you," and Graeme made for
t'-ie cabin stau's. She tmiied again, hov/ever.

" Never heed, Janet, about the tlimgs. Think what it must
be to have no change, and we had so many. Poor wee
Norah, too. Her mother's dead you ken, and she looked so
miserable."

Janet was pacified.

" Wccl, Miss Graeme, I '11 no' heed. But my dear, it 's no'
like we 'U find good clotlies growing upon trees in this land,
more than in our own. i\jid we had need to bo careful. I
wonder where a' the strippet pillow slips can be ? I see far
more of the fme ones dirty than were needed, if you had
been careful, and guarded them."

But (iraeme was out of heaiiug before she came to this.

They landed at last, and a very dreary landing it was.
They had waited for hom-s, till the clouds should exhaust
themselves, Ijut the raui was still falling when they left the
ship. Eager and excited, the whole party were, but not
after the anticipated fashion. Graeme was surprised, and a
little mortified, to find no particular emotions swelling at her
heart, as her feet touched the soil which the Puritans had
rendered sacred. Indeed, she was too painfully conseious,
that the sacred soil was putting her shoes a'ftd frock in jeop-
iwdy, and had two nuich trouble to kec}) tiie umbrella over
Marian and herself, to be abk; to give any thanks to the suf-
ferings of the Pilgrim fathers, or mothers either. Mr. Elhott
had been on shore in the mornino-, and had engaged rooms

»«■■«■■

Janet's love and service.

for tliom in a quiet street, and thither Allan Ruthven, cajny-
injT little Hose, was to conduct them, whUo he attended to
the proper bestowment of tlicir baggage.

This duty Janet fam would have shared with him. Her
reverence for the m'nister, and his many excellencies, did
not imi:)]y entire confidence in his capacity, for that sort of
business, and when ho du'ected her to go with the bairns, it
was with many misgivings that she obeyed Lideed, as the
loaded cart took its departure in another direction, she ex-
pressed herself morally certain, that they had seen the last
of it, for she fully believed that, "yon sharp-looking lad
could carry it off from beneath the mmister's nose."

Droad of more distant c\ils was, however, (hivcn from her
thoughts by present necessities. The din and bustle of the
ci'owded wharf, would have been sufficient to " daze" the so-
bcrmiuded countrj^-woman, without the charge of little Will,
and unnumbered bundles, and the two " daft laddies for-
by." On their j)art, Noi-miin and Hany sconied the idea of
being taken care of, and loaded with baskets and other mov-
ables, made their way through the crowd, in a manner that
astonished the bewildered Janet.

" Bide awee, Norman, man. Han-y, you daft-laddie, where
are you going? Now dimia throw awa' good pennies for;?uch
green trash." For HaiTy had made a descent on a fruit stall,
and his pockets were turned inside out in a twinkling.

'• Saw ever anybody such cheatry," exclaimed Janet, as
the dark lady pocketed the coins with a grin, quite unmind-
ful of her expostulations. " Harry lad, a fool and his money
is soon paiied. And look ! see here, you hae' set down the
basket in the dubs, and your sister's bed gowns will be all
wet. Man ! hae you no sense ?"

" Nae muckle, I doubt, Janet," said Harry, with an exag-
gerated gcstiu'c of humility and j)enitence, turning the
basket upside do^vn, to ascertain the extent of the mischief.
" It 's awfu' like Scotch dubs, now isn 't it ? Never mind, I '11
give it a wash at the next pump, and it 'ill be none the worse.
Give me Will's hand, and I '11 take care of him."

Janet's lovk and skuvice.

en, caj.'iy-
ended to

im. Her

icica, did

it sort of

bairna, it

3d, fts the

1, she ex-

L the last

king lad
>

from her
lo of the
3" the so-
ttle WiU,
:ldies for-
le idea of
^hcr mov-
^ncr that

ie, where

forj^uch

mit stall,

anet, as

unmind-

is money

own the

1 be all

m exag-
ling the
nischief.
ind, I 'U
le worse.

"Take care o' yourself, and leave WUl with mo. But,

thch"

hac

escort

poarcd, and she stood alone, with the baskets and th(! boys
in the rainy street. Before her consternation had reached a
cUniax, however, Ruthvcn reappeared, having safely bestowed
the others in their lodgings. Like a (hscrect lad, as Janet
was incUned to consider him, he possessed himself of Will,
and some of the bundles, and led the way. At the door
stood the girls, anxiously looking out for them.

If their hostess had, at first, some doubt as to the sanity
of her new lodgers, there was little wonder. Such a confusion
of ton;:^cs her American ears had not heard before. Graeme
condoled with Will, who was both wet and weary. Janet
searched for missing bundles, and bewailed things in general.
Marian was engaged in a friendly scuffle for an apple, and
AUan was tossing Rosio up to the ceihng, while Norman,
perched on the bamiistors high above them all, waved his left
hand, bidchnfi^ farewell, with many words, to an imaginary
Scotland, wliilc with his right he beckoned to the "brave
new world" which was to be the scene of his wonderful
achievements and triumphs.

The next day rose bright and beautiful. Mr. EUiott had
gone to stay with his friend Mr. Caldwell, and Janet was
over head and ears in a general " sorting " of tilings, and
made no objections when it was proposed that the boys and
Graeme should go out with Allan Ruthven to see the town.
It is doubtful whether there was ever so much of Boston seen
in one day before, without the aid of a carnage and pair*. It
was a day never to be forgotten by the childi'en. The enjoy-
ment was not quite unmixed to Graeme, for she was in con-
stant fear of losing some of them. Harry was lost sight of
for awhile, but turned up agaui with a chapter of adventures
at his finger ends for their amusement.

The crowning enjoyment of the day was the treat p ^t-^} , by

AUan Ruthven on their way hoi>.e. They were very warm

and tired, and hungry too, and the low, cool room down some

steps into which they were taken, was delightful. There was

Janet's love and service.

1*!.
I- .1

•

■

i
1 .

novor such fniit — there were never such cukes as these that
were set before them. As for the ice cream, it was — inexpres-
sible. In describing the feast afterwards, Marian could never
get beyond the ice cream. She was always at a loss for ad-
jectives to describe it. It was like the manna that the Chil-
dren of Israel had in the wilderness, she thought, and surely
they ought to have been content with it.

Graeme was the only one who did not enjoy it thoroughly.
She had an idea that there were not very many guineo • left
in Allan's purse, and she felt bound to remonstrate wit a
because of his extravagance.

" Never mind, Graeme, dear," said Jsorman ; " Allan winna
ha^e a chance to treat us to manna this while again ; and
when I am Mayor of Boston, I '11 give him manna and nuails
too."

They came home tired, but they had a mcn*y evening.
Even Graeme " unbent," as Hany said, and joined in the
mirth ; and Janet had enough to do to reason them into
quietness when bed-time cai ae.

" One would think when ]Mi\ AUan is going away in the
morning, you might have the grace to seem sorry, and le^ us
have a while's peace," said she.

If the night was meny, the morning farewells wei ^ . ^
indeed, and long, long did they w^ait in vain for tidings of
Allan Ruthven.

these that
— inexprcs-
'oiUd never
loss for Jid-
it the Chil-
and surely

lioroughly.
juiueo" ^('it
c wit -1

Jlan wimia

igain ; and

and nuails

•y evening.

Qcd in the

them into

i,way in the
and le^ us

s wei w . X
tidings of

CHAPTER VI.

' ' -p UT where 's the town ?"

Ij The bairns were standing on the highest step of
the meeting-house, gazing with eyes full of wonder and de-
liglit on the scene before them. The meeting-house stood on
a high hill, and beyond a wide sloping field at the foot of tlio
hill, lay Merlcville pond, like a mirror in a frame of silver and
gold. Beyond, and on either side, were hills rising behind
hills, the most distant covered with great forest trees, " the
trees under which the red Indians used to wander," Graeme
whispered. There were- trees on the nearer hills too, sugaries,
and thick jiine groves, and a circle of them round the margin
of the pond. Over all the great Magicia i of the season had
waved his wand, and decked them in colors dazzling to the
eyes accustomed to the gi*ey rocks and purple heather, and
to the russet garb of autumn in their native land.

There were farmhouses too, and the scattered houses aloii^'
the village street looking white and fair beneath crimson
maples and yellow beech trees. Above hung a sky undini-
med by a single cloud, and the air was keen, yet mild with
the October sunshine. They could not have had a loveher
time for the first glimpse of their new home, yet there was
an echo of disappointment in Harry's voice as he asked,

"AVliere's the town?"

They had been gi'catly impressed by the description given
them of Merlcville by I\Ir. Sampson Snow, in whose great
wagon they had been conveyed over the twenty miles of coun-
try' roads that lay between the railway and there new home.

"I Avas the first white child bom in the town," said Samp-
son. " I know every foot of it as well as I do my own bam,

f51^

■""«*— ^ '"""•iiinwnriiiiiminnii

J A27 1: r .s L< ) \- JO A M ) s !•; li \- ic !•:.

'Il'

lit ■!'

and I don't want no better place to live in than jlcrloville.
It don't lack but a fraction of bcin^^ ten miles scjuare, lliglit
in the centre, perhaps a kd'c south, there 's abo.it the pret-
tiest i>>nd you ever saw. There are some first-rate farms
there, mine is one of them, but in general the town is better
calculated for pasturage than tillage. I shouldn't wonder
but it would be quite a manufactiu'ing place too aflfr a spell,-
when they 've used up all the other water privileges in the
State. There 's quite a fall in the ]Mcrlo river, just before it
runs into the pond. AVe 've got a fuUin'-mill and a giist-mill
on it now. Tbcy 'd think everything of it in your country.

" There 's just one meetin '-house in it. That 's where your
pa '11 preach if our folks conclude to hire him a spell. The
land's about all taken up, though it haint reached the high-
est pomt of cultivation yet. The town is set oil' into nine
school-districts, and I consider that our privileges are first-
rate. And if it 's nutting and squirrel-hunting you 're after,
boys, all you have to do is to apply 'to Uncle Sampson, and
he '11 arrange your bu.smess for you."

" Ten miles square and nine schocjl-districts ! " Boston
could be nothing to it, sm*ely, the boys thorght. The incon-
sistency cf talking about pasturage and tillage, nutting and
squirrel-hnn;;ing in the populous place which thoy imagined
IVIcrlevillc to be, did not strijre them. This was literally their
first glimpse of Merlevillo, for the rain had kept them within
doors, and tho mist had hidden all tlnngs the day before, and
now they looked a little anxiously iov the city they had pic-
tured to themselves.

" But Norman ! Harry ! I tlmilc this is far better than a
town," said Marian, eagerly. "Eh, Graeme, isna yon a
bonny water V

•'Ay, it's grand," said Graeme. "Norman, this is far bet-
ter than a to'ATi."

The people were beginning to gather to service by this
thuc ; but the cliilm-cn ■\\ere too eager and too \m'\y to he(>d
them for a^^hilo. With an interest tliat was Jialf wondcj-, half
delight. Graeme gazed to the hills and tho water and Iho

JA-MET 8 I-OVK AND SERVICr.

lovely H]yy. It mij^lit lie Ibo "bouny day" — the luilcl air and
tlic snnsliine, and tlio new fixir Hccno before bei", or it might
be the knowlcdj^^o that after mueli care, and many perils, they
were all saf(! toj>-(;lh('r in thi.s qni(!t place where they were to
find a home ; she Kcarco knew what it was, but her heart felt
strangely li^ht, and lips and eyes smiled as she fitood there
lioldin,!^ one of Marian's hands in hers, while the other wan-
dered throagh the cm-Is of Will's golden hau*. She did r ot
speak for a long time ; but the otherc were not so quiet., but
whispered to each other, and pointed out tlic objects that
pleased them most.

" Yon 's Merle ri\ er, I suppose, where we sec the water
glai. ing through the trees."

" And yonder is the kii'kyard," said Marian, gi'avely. " It 's
no' a bomiy place."

" It 's bare and lonely-looking," said Harry.

" They should have yew trees and ivy and a high wall, like
where mamma is," said INIarian.

" But this is a new coimtiy ; things arc different here,"
said Norman.

" But siu'cly they inight have trees."

" And look, there are cows in it. The gate is broken. It 's
a pity."

"Look at yon road that goes round the water, and then
up between the hills through the wood. That 's bonny, I 'm
sm-c."

" And there 's a white house, just where the road goes out
of sight. I would like to live there."

" Yes, there arc many trees about it, and another house
on this side."

And so they talked on, till a famiUar voice accosted them.
Their fiiend Mr. Snow was standing beside them, holding a
pretty, but delicate httle girl, ])y the hand. He had been
watching them for some time.

" Well how do you like the looks of tilings ? "

" It 's bonny here," said Marian.

" "SMiero 's the town ? " aslced Harry, promptly.

JANKT 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

'ISi,

Mr, Snow made a motion with bis head, intended to indi-
cate the scene before them.

" Lacks a fraction of being ten miles square."

" It 's all trees," said little WiU

" Wooden country, eh, my httle man ? "

*' Country ! yes, it 's more like the country than like a
town," said Hany.

" Well, yes. On this side of the water, we can aflford to
have our towns, as big as some folks* countries," said IMi*.
Snow, gravely.

" But it 's hke no tuwn I ever saw," said Norman. " Tliere
are no streets, no shops, no market, no anything that makes
a town."

" There 's freedom on them hills," said IMr. Sno^ -^aving his
hand with an air.

During the journey the other day, l\Ir. Snow and the lads
had discussed many things together ; among the rest, the
institutions of then' respective countries, and Mr. Snow had,
as he expressed it, " Set tlieu' British blood to bilin," by hints
about " aristocracy," " despotism," and so on. " He never
had had such a good time," he said, afterwards. They were
a little firey, but first-rate smart boys, and as good natui-ed
as kittens, and ho meant to see to them. He meant to
amuse himself with them too, it seemed. The boys fired up
at once, and a hot answer was only arrested on their hps, by
the timely interference of Graeme.

" Whist, Norman. HaiTy, mind it is the Sabbath-day, and
look yonder is papa coming up with Judge Merle," and turn-
ing smilingly tc. IVIr. Snow, she added, *' We hke the place
very much. It 's beautifid everywhere. It 's far bonnier
thon a town. I 'm glad there 's no town, and so are the boys,
though they were disappointed at first."

" No town ? " repeated Mr. Snow.

But there was no time for explanations. Their father had
reached the steps, and the childi'en were replying to the
gi*eeting of the Judge. Judge Merle, was in the opinion of
the majority, the gi'eatesb man in MerleviUe, if not in the

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

d to indi-

an lite a

aflforcl to
said lili-.

" Tliere
lat makes

aving his

I the lads
rest, the
Qow had,
' by hints
le never
liey were
natui'ed
iieant to
fired up
• hps, by

clay, and
ad tnm-
le place
bonnier
lie boys,

her had

to the

tiion of

i in the

coimtrj'. The children had made his acquamtance on Satur-
day. He had brought them with his own hands, thiough
the rain, a pail of sweet milk, and another of hominy, a cir-
cumstance which gave them a high idea of liis kindness of
heart, but which sadly overturned aU their preconceived no-
tions with regard to the dignity of his office. Janet, who looked
on the wh^Ij thmg as a proper tribute of respect to the min-
ister, augiired well from it, what he might expect in his new
parish, and congratulated herself accordingly. The children
were glad to see him, among the many strangers around
them, and when Mr, Snow gave him a famihar nod, and a,
" Morning Judge," Graeme felt a little inclined to resent the
famiharity. The Judge did not resent it, however. On the
contrary, when jNlr. Snow, nodding sideways toward the min-
ister, said, " He guessed tlje folks would get about fitted this
time," he nodded as familiarly back, and said, " He should n't
wonder if they did."

There are no such churches built in New England now,
as that into which the minister and his children were led by
the Judge. It was very large and high, and full of windows.
It was the brilliant light that stnick the children first, accus-
tomed as they had been to associate with the Sabbath wor-
ship, the dimness of their father's Httle chapel in Clayton.
Norman the mathematician was immediately seized with a
perverse desire to count the panes, and scandalized Graeme
by communicating to her the result of his calculation, just as
her father rose up to begin.

How many people there were in the high square pews, and
in the galleries, and even in the narrow aisles. So many,
that Graeme not drcamuig of the quiet nooks hidden among
the hills she had thought so beautiful, wondered where they
all could come from. Keen, intelligent faces, many of them
were, that turned toward the minister as he rose ; a httle
hard and fixed, perhai)s, those of the men, and far too delicate,
and care-worn, those of the women, but earnest, thoughtful
faces, many of them were, and kindly withal.

Afterwards — years and yeai's afterwards, when the bairns

ill

;

JANET H LOVE A\D SEKVICK.

had to shut their eyes to recall their father's face, as it gleamed
down upon them from that strange high pulpit, the (jld people,
used to talk to them of this first sermon in Mcrlcville. There
was a charm m the Scottish accent, and in the earnest manner
of the minister, which won upon these people wonderfully. It
was heart speaking to heart, an earnest, loving, human
heart, that had sinned and had been forgiven, that had suf-
fered and had been comforted ; one who, through all, had by
God's gi'acc struggled upwards, speaking to men of like pas-
sions and necessities. He spoke as one whom God had given
a right to warn, to counsel, to console. He spoke as one
who must give account, and his hearers hstcned earnestly.
So earnestly that Deacon Fish forgot to hear for Deacon
Slowcome, and Deacon Slowcome forgot to hear for peoi)lo
generally. Deacon Sterne who seklom forgot anythmg which
he believed to be his duty, failed for once to prove the ortho-
doxy of the doctrine by comparuig it with his own, and
received it as it fell from the minister s lips, as the very word
of God.

" He means just as he says," said Mr. Snow to young
Mr. Greenleaf, as he overtook him in going home that after-
noon. " He was n't talldng just because it was his business
to. When he was a telling us what mighty things the grace
of God can do, he believed it Imnself, I guess."

" They all do, don't they ?" said ^Ir. Greenleaf.

" Well, I do n't know. They all say they do. But there 's
Deacon Fish now," said IMi*. Snow, nodding to that worthy,
as his wagon whuled past, "he don't begin to think that
grace or anything else, could make me such a good man as
he is."

]Mr. Greenleaf laughed.

" If the vote of the town was taken, I guess it would be
decided that grace would n't have a great deal co do."

" Well, the town would make a mistake. Deacon Fish
ain't to brag of for goodness, I don't think ; but he 's a sight
better than I be. But see here. Squire, don't you think the
new minister '11 about fit? "

i ji

Janet's love and service.

t gleamed
Id people,
le. There
;t manner
ffiiUy. It
<;, human

had suf-
U, had by

like pas-
lad given
e as one
iamostl}'.
• Deacon
3r peojile
ng which
be ortho-
)wn, and
evy word

o young

lat after-

Dusinesa

tie grace

there 's
worthy,
nk that
man as

Duld be

•n Fish
a sight
ink the

"He'll fit me," said the Squire. "It is easy to see that
he is not a common man. But he won't tit the folks here, or
they won't tit him. It would be too good luck if he were to
stay here."

" Well, I don't know about that. There are folks enough
in the town that know what 's good when they hear it, and
I guess they '11 keep him if they can. And I guess he '11
stay. He seems to like the look of thmgs. He is a dreadfuJ
mild-spoken man, and I guess he won't want much in the
way of paj-. I guess you had better shell out some yourself,
Squire, /mean to."

"You are a rich man, IMr. Snow. You can afford it."

" Come now. Squire, that 's good. I 've worked harder
for every dollar I 've got, than you 've done for any ten you
ever earned."

The Squire shook his head.

" You don't understand my kind of work, or you would n't
say so. But about the minister ? If I were to pledge my-
self to any amount for his support, I should feel just as
though I were in a measure responsible for the right arrange-
ment of all things with regard to his salary, and the paying
of it. Anything I have to do with, I want to have go right
along without any trouble, and unless Merleville folks do
differently than they have so far, it won't be so in this
matter."

" Yes, I should n't wonder if there would be a hitch before
long. But I guess you 'd better think before you say no. I
guess it '11 pay in the long rim."

" Thank you, Mr. Snow. I '11 take your advice and think
of it," said ]Mr. Greenleaf, as Sampson stopped at his own
gate. He watched him going up the hill.

" He 's goin' along up to the ^vidow Jones' now, I '11 bet.
I should n't wonder if he was a goin' to lose me my chance
of getting her place. It kind o' seems as though I ought to
have it ; it fits on so nice to mine. And they say old Skin-
flint is going to foreclose right off. I '11 have to make things
fit pretty tight this winter ; if I have to raise the cash. But

yaaK,i-Mu'musfU.

JANET 8 LOVE AND BEIIVICE.

it (loos seem as if I ou^lit to bavo it. Maybo it 's Celestia
tl.3 Squiro wants, and not the farm."

Ho camo back to close tbo gate wbich, in bis oarncstness,
bo bad forgotten, and loaned for a moment over it.

" Well, now, it does beat all. Hero bavo I boon forgetting
all abont wbat I bavo board over yonder to tbo meeting-
bouso. Deacon Sterno need n't waste no more words to
prove total depravity to me. I 've got to know it pretty well
by tbis time ; " and, with a sigb, bo turned toward tbo bouso.

-5

's Celcstia

irucstness,

forgetting
3 meeting-
words to
)retty well
the liouso.

■■'■a

CHAPTER VII.

THE next week was a busy one to all. IVIr. Elliott, dur-
ing- that time took up his residence at Judge Merle's,
only milking daily visits to the little brown house behind the
elms where Janet and the bairns were putting things to
rights. There was a gi'cat deal to be done, but it was lovely
weather, and all were in excellent sjjirits, and each did some-
thmg to help. The lads broke sticks and carried water, and
Janet's mannnoth washing was accomplished in an incredibly
short time ; and before the week was over the little brown
house began to look like a home.

A gi-eat deal besides was accomplished this week. It was
not all devoted to helping, by the boys. Norman caught
three s(iuirrels in a traji of his own invention, and Harry
shot as many with Mr. Snow's wonderful rifle. Tliey and
Marian had made the circuit of the pond, over rocks, through
bushes and brambles, over brooks, or through them, as the
case might be. They came homo tii'ed enough, and in a
state which naturally suggested thoughts of another mammoth
washing, but in high spirits with their trip, only regi-etting
that (iraeme and Janet had not been with them. It was
Saturday night, after a very busy week, and Janet had her
o^vn ideas about the enjoyment of such a ramble, and was
not a little put out with them for " their thoughtless ruining
of theu' clothes and shoon." But the minister had come
home, and there was but a thin partition between the room
that must servo him for study and parlor, and the general
room for the family, and they got oif with a slight repri-
mand, much to their siu'prise and delight. For to tell the
truth, Janet's patience with the bairns, exhaustless in most

.tankt's love and service.

''I#

circumstances, was wont to give way in the presence of
"torn clothes and mined shoon."

The next week was hardly so successful. It was cold and
rainy. The gold and crimson glories of the forest chsappearcd
in a night, and the earth looked gloomy and sad under a
leaden sky. The inconveniences of the httle bro^vn house
became more apparent now. It had been declared, at first
sight, the veiy worst house in Merleville, and so it was, even
luider a clear sky and brilliant sunshine. A wi'ctched place
it looked. The windows clattered, the chimney smoked,
latches and hinges were defective, and there were a score of
other evils, which Janet and the lads strove to remedy with-
out vexing their father and Graeme. A very poor place it
was, and small and inconvenient besides. But this could
not be cured, and therefore must be endiu'cd. The house
occupied by 'Mr. ElUott's predecessor had been bm*ned down,
and the Uttle brown house was the only unoccupied house iu
the village. When winter should be over something might
be done about getting another, and in the meantime they
must make the best of it.

Tlie people were wonderfully land. One man came to
mend windows and doors, another to mend the chimney.
On'in Grean spent two days in banking up the house.
Deacons Fish and Slowcome sent their men to biing up
wood ; and apples and chickens, and pieces of beef were sent
in by some of the village people.

There were sone drawbacks. The wood was green, and
made more smoke than heat ; and Janet mortally offended
Mr. Green by giving him his dinner alone in the kitchen.
Every latch and hinge, and pane of glass, and the diiving of
every nail, was charged and deducted from the half year's
salary, at prices which made Janet's indignation overflow.
This latter circumstance was not known, however, till the half
year was done ; and in the meantime it helped them all
through this di'eaiy time to find tlibu' new friends so kind.

In the course of time, things were put to rights, and the
little bare place began to look wonderfully comfortable.

Janet's love and service.

rcscncG of

s cold and
isappoarcd
d under a
n\n house
ed, at first
was, even
ilicd place
7 smoked,
I score of
aedy ^^'itl^
r place it
this could
riie house
led down,
1 house in
:ng might
time they

came to
chimney,
le house,
aiing up
ivere sent

•een, and

offended

kitchen.

riving of

if year's

overflow.

the half

;liem all

kind.

and the

fortablo.

■:^

With waiTn oarioets on the floors, and warm curtains on the
windows, with stools and sofas, and tables made out of pack-
ing boxes, disguised m various ways, it began to have a look
.of homo to them all.

The ruin and the clouds passed away, too, and the last
part of Novcniljor was a long and lovely Lidian smumer.
Then the explorations of the boys were renewed with dchght.
Graeme and Rosio and "Will went with the rest, and (jven
Janet was beguiled into a nutting excursion one afternoon.
She enjoyed it, too, and voluntarily confessed it. It was a
fair view to look over the pond and the village Ijing so
quietly in the valley, with the ku'k looking down upon it
fi'om above. It was a ^'»^e country, nobody could deny ; but
Janet's 03-03 were sad Cijugh as she gazed, and her voice
shook as she said it, for the thought of home was strong at
her heart.

In this month they made themselves thoroughly acquainted
with the gcogi-aphy of the place, and with the kindly in-
mates of many a farm-house besides. And a happy month
it was for them all. One night they watched the sim set
between red and wavering clouds, and the next day woke to
beliold " the beauty and mystery of the snow." Far away
to the highest hill-top ; down to the very verge of pond and
brook ; on every bush, and tree, and knoll, and over every
silent valley, lay the white gannent of whiter. How strange !
how wonderful ! it seemed to their unaccustomed eyes.

" It 'minds me of white gi-ave-clothes," said Marian, with a
shudder.

"Whist, Menie," said her sister. "It makes me tlmik
of how full the air will be of bonnie white angels at the
rosm-rection-day. Just watch the flakes floating so (luietly in
the ah."

" But, Graeme, the angels will be going up, and "

" Well, one can hardly tell by looking at them, whether the
snow-flakes are coming down or going up, they float about
so silently. They mind me of beautiful and peaceful
things."

■■i

JANKT fci LOVI-: AND 8EKVICE.

" Bat, Graeme, it looks cold and dreary, and all the bonnie
flowers are covered in the dark."

" Meiiie ! There are no llowers to be covered now, and
the earth is weary ■vsith her summer work, and will rest and
sleep midor the bonnie Avhitc snow. And, dear, you mustna
think of (h'eary things when you look out upon the snow,
for it will bo a long time before we see the green gi'ass and
the bonnie flowers again," and Graeme sighed.

Bat it was with a shout of delight that the boyp plunged
headlong into it, rolling and tumbling and tossmg it at
one aftiother in a way that was " perfect niuiation to their
clothes ; " and yet Janet had not the heart to forbid it. It
was a holiday of a new kind to them ; and their enjoyment
was crowned and completed when, in the afternoon, Mr.
Snow came down with his box-sleigh and his two handsome
gr(.'ys to givc them a sleigh-ride. There was room for them
all, and for Mr. Snow's little Emily, and for half a dozen
besides had they been there ; so, well wrai)ped up with
blankets and buffalo-robes, away they went. Was there ever
anything so dclightfid, so exhilarating? Even Graeme
laughed and clapped her hands, and the greys flew over the
ground, and passed every sleigh and sledge on the road.

" The bonnie creatui'es ! " she exclaimed ; and Mr. Snow,
who loved his gi'eys, and was proud of them, took the oft-
rei:)eated exclamation as a comphment to himself, and di-ovo
in a way to show his favorites to the best advantage. Away
they went, up liiU and nown, thi'ough the village and over
the bridge, past the mill to the woods, wliere the tall hem-
locks and cedars stood dressed in wliite "like brides." Marian
had no thought of sorrowful things in her heart vny:. They
came home again the other way, past Judge Merle's and the
school-house, singing and laughing in a Vv-ay that made the
sober-minded boys and girls of Merlevillo, to whom sleigli-rid-
ing was no novelty, turn roimd in astonishment as they passed.
The people in the store, and the people in the blacksmith's
shop, and even the old ladies in their warm kitchens, opened
the door and looked out to see the cause of the pleasant up-

janet'i3 love and service.

the bonnie

[ now, and

I rest and
)ii mustna
the snow,
grass and

'F plnnjiTed
ing it at

II to their
bid it. It
injoymcnt
loou, Mr.
lumdsomo

for them

f a dozen

up with

here ever

Graeme

over the

oad.

h\ Snow,

the oft-

nd drove

Away

md over

tall hcni-

Mrtrian

. Tliey

and the

ulo the

eig-li-rid-

• passed.

ismith's

opened

sant np-

■i

roar. All wore meiTy, and all gave voice to their mirth except
Mr. Snow's little Emily, and she was too full of astonishment
at the others to think of saying anything herself. But none
of them enjoyed the ride more than she, though it was not
her fii'st bv manv. None of them all remem])ered it so well,
or spoke of it so often. It was the beginning of sleigh-rid-
ing to them, but it v as the beginning of a new life to httle
Emily.

" Isna she a queer little creature ? " whispered Harry to
Graeme, as her great black eyes tmnied fi'om one to another
full of grave wonder.

" She 's a bonnie httle creature," said Graeme, caressing
the httle hand that had found its way to hers, " and good,
too, I 'm sure."

" Grandma don't think so," said the child, gi'avcly.

" No ! " exclaimed Hany. " What bad things do you do ? "

" I drop stitches and look out of the window, and I hate
to pick over beans."

HaiTv whistled.

•* What an awful wee sinner ! And does your gi'andma
punish you ever ? Does she whij) you ? "

Tlie child's black eyes flashed.

" She dare n't. Father would n't let her. She gives me
stints, and sends me to bed."

" The Tm-k ! " exclaimed Hany. " Run away from her,
and come and bide with us."

"Hush, HariT," said Graeme, softly, "gi-andma is Mr.
Snow's mother."

There was a pause. Li a httle Emily spoke for the fii'st
time of her own accord.

" There are no chilth-en at oiu' house," said she.

" Poor wee lammie, and you are lonely sometimes," said
Graeme.

" Yes ; when father 's gone and mother 's sick. Then
there's nobody but gi-andma."

" Have you a doll ? " asked Menie.

" No : I have a kitten, though."

JANKTS LOVE AND SERVICE.

t I

i I.

" All ! you must eonio and jilay with iny doll. She is a
perfect l)eauty, and her naino is Flora ^Macdoimld."

jMcnio's doll had become much more valuable iu her esti-
mation since she had created such a sensation among tho
little Merlcville girls.

'* Will you come ? Mr. Snow'," she said, cUmbing upon tho
front seat which Norman shared with the driver, " won't
you let your little girl como and sec my doll ? "

"Well, yes; I guess so. If she's half as pretty as you
are, she is well worth seeing."

Menie was down again in a minute.

" Yes, you may come, he says. And bring your kitten,
and we '11 play all day. Graeme lets us, and doesna send us
to bed. AVill you like to come ? "

" Yes," said the child, quickly, but as gravely as ever.

They stopped at the little brown house at last, with a
shout that brought theii' father and Janet out to see. All
sprang hghtly down. Little Emily staid alone in the sleigh.

" Is this your little girl, Mr. Snow ? " said IVIr. EUiott, tak-
ing the child's hand in his. Emily looked in his face as
gi'avely and quietly as she had been looking at tho children
all the afternoon.

" Yes ; she 's your Marian's ago, and looks a little like her,
too. Don't you think so Mrs. Nasmyth ? "

Janet, thus appealed to, looked .kindly at the child.

" She might, if she hn.d any flesh on her bones," said she.
" "Well, she don't look ragged, that 's a fact," said her father.

The cold, which had brought the roses to the cheeks of
tlio little Elliotts, had given Emily a blue, pinched look,
which it made her father's heart ache to see.

" Tho bairn 's cold. Let her como in and wai-m herself,"
said Janet, promptly. There was a chorus of entreaties
from tho children.

" Well, I don't know as I ought to wait. My horst q dtfi't
like to stand much," said Mr. Snow.

" Never mind waiting. If it 's too far for us . :ike hor
home, you can como down for her in the evening."

JANETS LoVi: AND SKRVICI!

She is a

in Lor csti-
inioiig tho

; upf)n tho
r, " won't

by as yon

•ur kitten,
a send us

ever.

st, with a
see. All
the sleigh.
llUott, tak-
is face as
5 children

i like her,

said she.
r father.
:;heeks of
led look,

herself,"
mtreaties

^ r, .n't
take hrr

4
■4

Emily looked at her father wistfully.

'• Wcnild you like to stay, dear ? " asked he.

" Yes, sir." And she wus lifted out of the sleigh by Janet,
and curried uito the house, and Idssed before she was set
down.

" 1 11 be along down after dark, sonietimo," said ]Mr. Snow,
as he drove away.

Little Eiuilv had never heard so much noise, at least so
much pleasant noise, before. Mr. Elliott sat down beside the
bright wood lire in the kitchen, with Marian on one knee
and the little stranger on tho other, and listened to the
exclamations of one and all about the sleigh ride.

" And hae you nothing to say, niy bonnie wee lassie ? " said
he pusliing back tho soft, brown haii' from the little grave
face. " A\'hat is yoiu* name, little one ? "

"Emily Snow Arnold," answered she, promptly.

" Emily Ai'uold Snow," said wienie, laughing.

" No ; Emily Snow Arnold. Grandma says I am not
father's own little girl.- INIy father is dead."

She looked grave, and so did the rest.

" But it is just the same. He loves you."

" O, yes ! " There was a bright look in the eyes for once.

"And you love him all the same ? "

" 0, yes."

So it was. Sampson Snow, with love enough in his heart
for half a dozen children, had none of his own, and it was
all lavished on tliis child of his wife, and she loved him
dearly. But they chd not have "good tunes" up at their
house the little girl confided to Graeme.

" Mother is sick most of the time, and grandma is cross
always ; and, if it was n't for father, I don't know what wo
should do."

Lidced, they did not have good times. Old IMi-s. Snow
had always been strong and healthy, altogether unconscious
of " nei-ves," and she could have no sympathy and veiy httlo
pity for his son's sickly wife. She had never liked her, even
when she was a gu-1, and her gu-lhood was past, and she had

JANRT 8 /.OVE AXI> SEiiVICE.

been a sorrowful »vidow before her sou brought her home as
his wife. 80 old Mrs. Sn(;\v kept her place at the head of the
household, and was hard on everybody, but more especially
on her son's wi[e aud her little girl. If there had been chil-
<h-en, siio might have been dili'erent ; but slic almost resented
her son's warm affection for his Httle step-daughter. At any
rnte slie Wiis determined that little Emily should bo brought
up as children used to be brought up when she was young,
and not spoiled by over- indulgence as her mother had been ;
and the process was not a pleasant one to any of them, and
" good times " were few and fur betv/oen at their house.

Her acquaintance with the minister's childi'en was the be-
ginning of a new hfe to EmUy. Her father opened his eyes
with astonishment when he came into Janet's bright kitchen
that night and heard his little girl laughing and clapjnng her
hands us merrily as any of them. If anything had been
needed to deepen his interest m them all, their kindness to
the child would have done it ; and from that day the minister
and his childi-en, and Mrs, Nasmjiih, too, had a finn and
trae friend in IMr. Snow.

CHAPTER VIII.

17^ ROM the time of their an-ival, the minister and his family
I excited gi'eat curiosity and interest among the good
people of Merle^'ille. The minister himself, as Mr. Snow
told Mrs. Nasnn^h, was " popnlar." Not, however, that any
one among them all thought him faultless, unless Mr. Snow
himself tlid. Every old lady in the tow.o saw something in
him, which she not secretly deplored. Indeed, they were
more unanimous, with regard to the minister's faults, than
old ladies generally arc on important sabjoots. Tlio matter
was dispassionately discussed at several successive sewing-
circles, and when ]\Irs. Page, summing up the evidence, sol-
emnly declared, " that though the minipter was a good
man, and a good prercher, he lacked considerable in some
thuigs which go to make a man a good pastor," tl^ere was
scarcely a dissenting voice.

Mrs. Merle had ventured to hint, that, " they could not ex-
pect cveiything in one man," but her voice wont for nothing,
as one of the minister's offences was, havmg been several
times in at the Judge's, while he smfuUy neglected others of
his flock.

" It 's handy by," ventm*ed Mrs. Merle, again. But the
Judge's wife was no match for the blacksmith's lady, and it
was agi'ecd by all, thot whatever else the minister might be,
he was " no hand at visiting." True he had divided the
town into districts, for the purpose of regularly meeting the
people, and it was his custom to announce from the pulpit,
the neighborhood in which, on certain days, he miglit be ex-
pected. But that of course, was a formal matter, and not ab
all like the affectionate intercourse that ought to exist be-

(67)

jani:t s i.ovi: and .«KEVicr.

twcen a pnstor and his people. " Ho miji^ht preach like
Paul," said ^Ivh. Viv^o, " l)ut unless on week days ho water-
ed the seed sown, with a word in season, the haiTest would
never be ^fathered in. The minister's face ou,L;lit to bo a fa-
miliar si^ht in every houseliolil, or the youth would never
be brou^fht into the fold," and the lady si^-hed, at the case of
the youth, scattered over the ten miles square of Merleville.
The minister was not sinninj^ m ignorance cither, for she
herself, had told him his duty in this respect.

" And what did ho say ?" asked some one.

" Oh ! -ho did n't say much, but I could see that his con-
Bcicnce was n't easy. However, there Las been no imjirove-
ment yet," she added, with grave severity.

" He hahi't got a horse, and I 'vo heard say, that deacon
Fish charges him six cents a mile f(n' his horse and cutter,
whenever he has it. He couldn't alibrd to ride roiTr^d nuK.'h
at that rate, on live hundred dollars a year."

Tliis bold speech was ventured by Miss Rebecca Pettimore,
l\L's. Captain Liscome's help, who took turns with that lady,
in atteiuhng the sewing-circ'le. But it was well known, that
she was always " on the off side," and ]Mrs. Page deigned no
reply. There was a moment's silence.

" Eli heard Mr. Snow say so, in Page's shop yesterday,"
added Hebecca, who always gave her authority, when she re-
peated an item of news. ]\Irs. Fish, took her up shar])ly.

" Sampson Snow had better let the minister have his
horse and cutter, if he can afford to do it, for nothing. jMi\
Fish can't."

" !My goodness. Mis' Fish, I would n't have said a W(jrd,
if I'd thought you were here," said Pebecca, with an embar-
rassed laugh.

" ]\[r. Snow often drives the minister, and thinks himself
well ])aid, just to have a talk with him," said a pretty black-
eyed girl, trying to cover llebecca's retreat. But Pobecea
woul<l n't retreat.

"I didn't mean any oft'ence, Mis' Fish, and if it ain't so
about the deacon, you can say so now, before it goes further."

; )

jA>:i;Tri LovK and skkvick.

But it was not to lie contradicted, and that Mrs. Fish woll
knew, thouf^h what business it was of anybody's, and wliy tlio
minister, who seemed to bo woll oil', should n"t pay for the uso
of a horse and cutter, she couldn't luiderstand. The subject
Avas changed by Mrs. Slowcome.

" He nnist have piles and piles of old sermons. It don't
seem as thouj^li he iieods to spend as much time in his study,
us Mrs. Nasmyth tells about."

Hero there was a nuiruuu* of dissent. "Would sermons
made for the British, be such as to suit free-born American
citizens? the children of the Puritans'? The prevailing feel-
ing was against such a supposition.

" Old or new, I lilce them," said C(>lestia Jones, the pretty
black-eyed gii-l, who had spoken before. " And so do others,
who are better judges than I."

" Squire GrceiJeaf, I suppose," said Ruby Fox, in a loud
whisper. " He was up tliere last Sunday night ; she has Ijccu
acliing to tell it all the afternoon."

Celestia's black eyes Hashed fire at the speaker, and the sly
Buby said no more. Indeed, there was no more said about
the sermons, for tliat the}' were something for the I\Ierlevillo
people to bo proud of, all agreed. Mr. Elliott's preaching
had +lUed the old meeting-hou.se. Peoi)le who had never
been regular churchgoers came now ; some from out of tho
town, even. Young Scpiire Ch'ecnleaf, wIkj seemed to have tho
prospect of succeethng Judge IMerle, as the great man of
Merleville, had brought over the judges from llixtbrd, and
th(\v had (Uned at tho minister's, and had come to church on
Sunday. Young Squire Greenleaf was a triumph of himself.
He had never been at meeting "much, if any," shice h(> had
completed his legal studies. If he ever did go, it was to the
Episcopal church at Bixford, which, (o the lil)eral ]\[rs. Page,
looked considerably like co(|uetting with the scarlet Avoman.
Jsow, he hardly ever lost a Sunday, besides going sometimes
to conference meetuigs, and making frequent visits to the
minister's house. Having put all these things togetiu'r, and
considered the matter, Mrs. Page came to tho cvMiclusion,

fi (

' i'

V I

Janet's love and service.

that the squire was not in so hopeless a condition as she had
been wont to sui)pose, a fact, which on this occasion, she took
the opportunity of rejoicing over. The rest rejoiced too.
There was a murmur of dissent from Miss Pettimore, but it
passed unnoticed, as usual. There was a gleam whicli look-
ed a little like scorn, in the black eyes of Miss Cclestia, which
said more plauily than IMiss Pettimore's words could have
done, that the squire was better now, than the most in
Mcrlevillo, but like a wise young person as she was, she ex-
pended all her scornf liI glances on the shirt sleeve she was
making, and said nothing.

The minister was then allowed to rest a little while, and the
other members of the family were discussed, with equal in-
terest. Upon the whole, the conclusion arrived at was pretty
favorable. But Mrs. Page and hor friends were not quite
satisfied with Graeme. As the muiister's eldest daughter,
and " serious," they were disposed to overlook her youthful-
ness, and give her a prominent place in their cii'cle. But
Graeme hung back, and would not be prevailed upon to take
such honor to herself, and so some said she was proud, and
some said she was only shy. But she was kindly dealt with,
even by IMi's. Page, for her loving care of the rest of the chil-
di'en, had won for her the love of many a motherly heart
among these kind people. And she was after all but a child,
little more than fifteen.

There were numberless stories afloat about the boys, — their
mu'th, their mischief, their good scholarshij), their respect
and obedience to then* father, A^'hich it was not beneath the
dignity of the ladies assembled to repeat and distaLss. The
boys had visited faithfully through the parish, if their father
had not, and almost everywhere they had won for them-
selves a welcome. It is tnie, there had been one or two
rather serious scrapes, in which they had involved themselves,
and other lads of tlie village ; but kind-hearted people forgot
the mischief sooner than the mu'th, and Norman and Harry
were very popular among old and young.

But the wonder of wonders, the riddle that none could

JA>*ET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

read, i,lio anomaly in Merlevillc society was Janet, or IVIrs.
Nasmyth, as she was generally called. In refusing one of the
many invitations wliich she had shared with the minister and
Graeme, she had thought fit to give society in general a piece
of her mind. She was, she said, the minister's servant, and
kenned her place better than to offer to take her tea with him
in any strango house ; she was obUged for tha invitation all
the same.

" Servant ! " echoed Mrs. Sterne's help, who was staymg to
pass the evening, while her mistress went home " to see about
sujoper."

And, " sen'ant ! " echoed the young lady who assisted Mrs.
Merle in her household affaii's.

" I '11 let them see that I think myself just as good as
Queen Victoria, if I do hve out," said another dignified aux-
iliary.

" She must be a di'eadful mean-spirited creatra-e."

" Why, they do say she '11 brush them great boys' shoes.
I saw her myself, through the study door, pull off jMr. Elliott's
boots a^j humble as could be."

" To see that httle girl pouring tea when there 's company,
and Mrs. Nasmyth not sitting down. It '^ridiculous."

" I would n't do so for the President ! "

'• Well, they seem to think everything of her," sai(i Miss
Pettimore, speaking for the first time in this connection.

" Why, yes, she does just what she has a mind to about
house. And the way them children hang about her, and fuss
over her, I never see. They teU her everything, and lIicsg
boys mind her, as they do their father."

" And if any one comes to pay his minister's tax, it 's
always, 'ask Mrs. Nasmyth,' or, *jMrs. Nasra>'th will tell
you.' "

" They could n't get along witliout her. If I was her I 'd
show them that I was as good as them, and no servant."

" She 's used, to it. She 's been brought up so. But now
that she 'h go:, here, I should thmk she 'd be sick of it."

•' I sjippcsc 'servant ' there, means pretty much what ' help'

)

i ;

*n 1

janj:t's Lovi; and sekvice.

does hero. There don't seem to be difference enough to talk
about," said llcbeeca.

*' I see considcrabio difierence," said IMrs. Merle's young
lady.

"It beats all," said another.

YcH, it did l)cat all. It was incomprehensible to these
di^niiied people, how Janet could openly acknowledge herself
a servant, and yet retam her self-respect. And that " Mrs.
Nasmyth thought considerable of herself," many of the cui'ious
ladies of Merlcville had occasion to know. The relations ex-
isting between her and "the bairns," could not easily be
understood. She acknowledged herself theii' servant, yet she
reproved them when they deserved it, and that shai-ply. She
enforced obedience to all rules, and governed in all household
matters, none seeking to dispute lier right. They went to
her at all times with their troubles and their pleasures, and
she symjoathized with them, advised them, or consoled
them, as the case might need. That they were as the very
apple of her eye, was evident to all, and that they loved her
dearly, and respected her entirely, none could fail to see.

There were stories going about in the village to prove that
she had a sliai-p tongue in her head, anu this her warmest
friends did not seek to deny. Of course, it was the duty of
all the female part of the congi'egation to visit at the minis-
ter's house, and to give such advice and assistance, with re-
gard to the arrangements, as might seem to be required of
them. It is possible they took more interest in the matter
than if there had been a mistress in the house. " More liber-
ties," Janet indignantly declared, and after the first visitation
or two she resolutely set her face agamst what she called the
answering of impertinent questions. According to her own
confession, she gave to several of tliem, whose mterest in thcu*
affairs was expressed without due discretion, a " downseiting,"
and Graeme and the boys, and even ]Mr. Elliott, had an idea
that a downsctting from Janet nmst be something s(>rious.
It is true her victims' ignorance of the Scottish tongue nmst
have taken the edge a httlc off her sharp words, but there was

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

no mistaking her indignant teslimony, as regarding "upbet-
tiu' bodies," and " meddlesome boiliea," that bestowed too
much tune on theii* neighbors' affairs, and there was some in-
dignation folt and expressed on the subject.

But she had her friends, and that not a few, for sweet words
and soft came very naturally to Janet's lips when her heart
was touched, and this always happened to her in the presence
of suffering and koitow, and many were the sad and sick that
her kind words comforted, and her willing hands reheved.
For every shaii^ word brought up against her, there could be
told a kindly dcod, and Janet's friends were the most numer-
ous at the sewiiig-'jircle that night.

Mcrleville was by no means on the outskirts of civilization,
though viewed fro!n the liigh hill on which the old meeting-
house stood, it seemed to the childi'cn to be suiToimded with
woods. But between the hills lay many a fertile valley. Ex-
cept toward the west, where the hills became mountains, it
was laid out into farms, nearly aU of which were occupied,
and veiy pleasant homes some of these farmhouses were.
The village was not large enough to have a society within it-
self indcijendent of the dwellers on these farms, and all the
people, even to the borders of the " ten miles square," c< <n-
sidered themselves neighbors. They were very socially
mclined, for the most part, and Mcrleville was a very pleasant
place to hve in.

Winter was the time for visiting. Theic was very h. 'Jo
formality m their entertainments. Nuts and apples, or dough-
nuts and cheese, was usually the extent of their eJlorts m the
way of refreshments, except on special occasions, when fonnal
invitations were given. Then, it nuist be confessed, the chief
aun of each housekeeper .seemed to be to sui'pass all others
in the excellence and vanety of the good things provided.
But for the most part no invitations were given or needed,
they dropped in on one another in a friendly way.

The ministcu-'s i'aniily were not overlooked. Scarcely an
evening passed but some of tlicir ne-ghbors came in. Indeed,
this happened ttjo fi-equently for Janet's patience, for she

JANKTri LOVi: AND HEKVICK.

f'
t

sorely begrudged llic time taken from the minister's books,
to the entertainment of " ilka idle body that took leave to
conio in." It gave her great delight to see hun really inter-
ested with visitors, but she set her face against liis being
troubled at all hours on evciy day in the week.

" If it 's anything particular I '11 tell the minister you 're
here," she used to say ; " but he bade the bauns be quiet,
and I doubt he wouldna hke to be distm-bed. Sit down a
minute, and I '11 speak to IMiss Graeme, and I dare say the
minister will be at leisure shortly."

Generally the visitor, by no means displeased, sat down in
her bright kitchen for a chat with her and the children. It
was pari ly these evening visits that won for ]\Ii's. Nasmy th
her popularity. Even in her gloomy days — and she had
some days gloomy enough about this time — she would exert
herself on such an occasion, and with the help of the young
people the visitor was generally well entertained. Such
singing of songs, such telling of tales, such discussions as
were caiTied on in the pleasant fii*ehght ! There was no such
thing as time lagging there, and often the nine o'clock wor-
ship came before the visitor was aware.

Even Judge Merle and young Squu'o Grecnleaf were some-
times detained in the kitchen, if they happened to come m on
a night when the minister was more than usually engaged.

" For you sec, sir," said she, on one occasion, " what with
ae thhig and what with anithcr, the minister has had so many
intenTiptions this week akeady, that I dinna like to disturb
him. But if you 11 sit down here for a minute or two, I dare-
say he '11 be ben and I '11 speak to Miss Graeme."

" Mr. EUiott seems a close student," said the Judge, as he
took the ofi'ered seat by the fire.

" Ay, is he. Though if you are like the lave o' the folk,
you '11 think no more o' him for that. Folk o' my country
judge o' a minister by the time he spends in his study ;
but here he scorns hardly to bo thought to bo in the way of
his duty, unless he 's ca'iiig about from house to house, heark-
eninji: to ilka auld ^vife's tale."

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

i i

** But," said the Judge, much amused, " the minister has
been studying all lii.s life. It seems as though he miglit
di'aw on old stores now."'

" Ay, but out o' the old stores ho must bring new matter.
Tlio minister 's no one that puts his people off with ' caiild
kail het agam,' and he canna make sermons and rin here and
there at the same tune."

" And he can't attend to visitors and make sermons at the
same time. That would be to the point at present," said the
Judge, laughing, "I think I'll be going."

" 'Deed, no, sir," said Janet, earnestly, " I didna mean you.
I 'm aye glad to see you or any sensible person to converse
with the minister. It cheers him. But this week it 's been
worse than ever. He hn,s hardly had an unbroken hour. But
sit still, sir. He would be ill pleased if you went away with-
out seeing him."

" I '11 speak to papa. Judge Merle," said Graeme. .

" Never mind, my dear. Come and speak to me yoursel£
I think IMrs. Nasmyth is right. The minister ought not to
be disturbed. I have nothing particular to say to him^ I
came because it 's a pleasure to come, and I did not think
about its being so near the end of the week."

Graeme looked rather anxiously from him to Janet.

" My dear, you needna trouble yourself. It 's no' folk hke
the Judge and young Mr. Greenleaf that will be likely to take
umbrage at being kept waiting a wee while here. It 's folk
like the 'smith yonder, or Orrin Green, the upsettin' body.
But you can go in now and see if your papa 's at leisure,
and tell him the Judge is here."

" We had IMr. Greenleaf here awhile the itlicr night," she
continued, as Graeme disappeared. " A nice, pleasant spoken
gentleman he is, an no' ae bit o' a Yankee."

The Judge opened his eyes. It was rather an equivocal
compliment, considering the person to whom she sjioke. But
he was not one of the kind to take offence, as Janet justly
said.

I I

CHAPTER IX.

OTHER favorites of IVIrs. Nasnijiih's wcro Mr. Snow and
tlie schoolmaster, and the secret of her interest in
them was their interest in the baims, and their visits were
made as often to the kitchen as to the stndy. Mr. Snow had
been their friend from the very first. He had made good his
promise as to nutting and squirrel-hunting. He had taught
them to skate, and given them their first sleighride ; he had
lielped them in the malcing of sleds, and never came down to
the village but with his pockets full of rosy apples to the ht-
tle ones. They made many a day pleasant for his little girl,
botl\ at his house and theirs ; and he thought nothing too
much to do for those who were kind to Emilv.

Janet's kind heart had been touched, and her unfailing
energies exercised in behalf of Mr. Snow's melancholy, ner-
vous wife. In ujoon the monotony of her life she had burst
like a ray of wmtry sunshine mto her room, brightenmg it to
at least a momentary cheerfuhiess. Dimng a long and tedious
illness, from which she had suffered, soon after the minister's
arrival in Merleville, Janet had watched with her a good
many nights, and the only visit which the partially-restored
iuvaUd made during tha winter wliich stirred so much pleas-
ant life among them, was at the minister's, where she was
wonderfully cheered by the kindness of them all. But it was
seldom that she could be prevailed upon to leave her Avarm
room in wintry weather, and Sampson's visits were made
alone, or in company with little Emily.

The schoolmaster, Mr. Isaac Newton Foster, came often,
partly because ho liked the lads, and partly because of liis
fondness for mathematics. The night of his visit was always
(76)

JANI/r a LOVE AND SKRVICE.

honored by the light of an extra Ciuulle, for liia appoaranco
was the signal for the biiiiging forth of fslatt-s and books, and
it v/as wouderfid what pleasure they all got together from
the mysterious figures and symbols, of which they never
seemed to grow weary.

Gr.'K'ino, from being interested in the progress of her broth-
ers, soon became interested in their studies for their own
sake, and ]Mr. Foster had not a mm'e docile or successful
pupil than she became. Janet had her doubts about her
" taking up with books that were fit only for Icuhlies," but
]\lr. Foster proved, with many words, that her ideas were
altogether old-fashioned on the subject, and as the minister
did not object, and Graeme herself had gi'cat dehght in it,
she made no objections. Her first opinion on the school-
master had been that ho was a well-moaning, harmless lad,
and it was given in a tone which said plainer than words,
that little more could Ije put forth in his favor. But by and
by, as she watched liim, and saw the inpuence for good which
he exerted over the lads, keeping them from mischief, and
really mteresting them in their studies, she came to have a
gi'eat respect for Mr. Foster.

But all the evenings when Mr. Foster was with them were
not given up to lessons. When, as sometimes happened, IVlr.
Snow or Mr. Greonleaf came in, something much more excit-
ing took the place of Algebra. Mr. Grecnleaf was not usually
the chief spctdjcr on such occasions, but he had the faciUty
of making the rest speak, and having engaged the lads, and
sometimes even Graeme and Janet, in the discussion of some
exciting question, often the comparative merits of the institu-
tions of then* respective countries, he would leave the burden
of the argument to the willing Mr. Foster, while he assumed
the position of audience, or put in a word now and then, as
the occasion seemed to require. They seldom lost theii" tem-
pers when he was there, as they somothnes did on less favored
occasions. For Janet and Janet's bairas were prompt to do
battle where the honor of their country was concerned, and
though Mr. Foster was good nature itself, he sometimes

JANKTii LOVK AND SKUVICK.

■1--

.1.

;

offended. Ho could not conscicntiouHly ^nthhol^d the mipe-
rior lif^lit which ho owed to his birth and cdueation in a land
of liboi-ty, if ho might dispel the darkness of old-world preju-
dice in which his friends were enveloped. INIr. Snow wa.s
ready too with his hints about " despotism" and "aristocracy,"
and on such occasions tho lads never failed to throw them-
selves headlong into tho thick of tho battles with a fierce; de-
sire to demohsh things in general, and Yankee institutions
in particular. It is to bo feared tho disputants were not
always very consistent in tho arguments they used ; but
their camcstness made up for their bad logic, and tho hot
words spoken on both sides woro never remembered when
tlio morrow came.

A chance word of tho master's had set them all at it, one
night when Mr. Snow came in ; and books and slates wore
forgotten in the eagerness of tho disimto. Tho lads were
in danger of forgetting tho respect duo to Mr. Foster, as
their teacher, at such times ; but ho was slow to resent it,
and Mr. Snow's silent laughter testified to his enjoyment of
this particular occasion. Tho stiifo was getting warm when
^Ir. Greenleaf 's laiock was heard. Norman was in the act
of hurUng some hundred thousands of black slaves at the
schoolmaster's devoted head, while Mr. Foster strove hard
to shield himself by holding up " Britain's WTotched opera-
tives and stai-viug poor."

"Come along. Squire," said Mr. Snow. "We want you
to settle this little difficulty. Mrs. Nasmyth ain't going to
let you into the study just now, at least she would n't let me.
The minister 's busy to-night."

Mr. Greenleaf, nothing loath, sat down and drew Marian
to his knee.

Neither Norman nor ]VIr. Foster was so eager to go on as
Mr. Snow was to have them ; but after a little judicious
stuTing up on his part, they were soon in "full blast," as he
wliisi)ered to his friend. The discussion was about slavery
this time, and need not be given. It was not confined to
Norman and Mr. Foster. All the rest had something to

JANETS I.oVi; AND SKltVICK.

say ; cvon JiiiK.'t joined when sIk; tlumj^lit a wido tlunist would
be of nso. ]iiit \<)i in:iu wiiA the chief speakcT on his side.
Tliesnlijeet hud heen discussed in the vilhij^o School Lyceum,
nnd NoniuiJi liud dist in finished himself ther(3 ; not exactly
by the clciivnoss or the stren^'th of his arguments — certainly
not by their ori{^'inality. But he thundered forth the lines
be<,'innin^ "I would not have a slave," etc., to the intense
delight of his side, and to at least the momentary disconiti-
tiiro of the other.

To-ni},'ht he was neither very logical nor very reasonable,
and ^Ir. Foster conii)lainod at last.

" But, Norman, you don't keep to the pomt. "

" Talks all round the lot," said Mr. Snow.

" I 'm afraid that is not confined to Nonnan," said Mr.
Grcenleaf.

"Nonnan is right, anywa}'," pronounced Menie.

*' He reasons in a circle," saitl the master. "And because
slavciy is the only Haw in "

" The only tlaw !" said Nonnan, with awfiU ii'ony.

" Well, yes," interposed j\Ir. Snow. " But we have had
enough of the Constitution for to-night. Let 's look at our
counti'y. It can't be beaten any way you take it. Physically
or morally," pursued he, with gi'cat gravity, " it can't be
beaten. There are no such mountains, rivers, nor lakes as
our's arc. Our laws and our institutions generally are just
about what they ought to be. Even foreigners see that, and
prove it, by coming to share our pri\dlcges. "Where will you
find such a general diffusion of knowledge among all classes ?
Classes? There is only one class. All art; fi-ce and
equal."

" Folk thinking themselves equal doesna make them
equal," said ^Irs. Nasmyth, to whom the last remark had
been adtli-cssed. " For my i)art, I never saw pride — really
to call pride — till I saw it in this fine country o' youi's — ilka
ane thinking himself as good as his neighbor."

"Well — so they be. Liberty and equahty is our ticket."

" But ye 're no' a' equal. There 's as muckle difference

Ml-

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

i|t.t

among folks here as fclscwliore, whatever be your ticket.
There are folk coming and gomg here, that in my counti-y
I would have sent round to the back door ; but naething
short of the company of the mmistcr hinjself will servo
them. (Jcntlemen like the Judge, or like 'Mv. (neenlcaf
hero, will sit and bide the mmistor's time ; but upscttin'
bodies such as I could name "

" Well, I would n't name them, I guess. General principles
arc best in such a case," said Mr. Snow. " And I am willing
to confess there is among us an aristo(!racy of merit. Your
friend the Judge belongs to that and yoiu* father, JMiss
Graeme ; and I expect Squire Greenleaf will, too, when ho
goes to Congi'ess. But no man is groat hero just because
his fatlier was before him. Everybody has a chance. "Now,
on your side of the water, ' a man must be just what his
father was.' Folks must stay just there. That 's a fact."

"You seem to bo \»eel informed," said Janet, drily.

" Ah ! yes ; I know all aliout it. An3'body may laiow any-
thing and cvei-ytlung in this coiuitry. "VVo 're a great people.
Ain't that so, INIr. Foster ? "

"It must bo granted by all unprejudiced minds, that
Britain has produced some gi-eat men," said Mr. Foster,
breaking out in a new spot, as ]\Ir. Snov,- whispered to the
Squire.

" Surely that -w ould be gi*anting too much," said Norman.

*' But," pursued ]\Ir. Foster, " Britons themselves confess
that it is on this Westem Continent that tho Anj^lo-Suxon
race is destined to triumph. Descended from Britons, a
now element has entered into thou* blood, Avhich shall — which
must — wliich "

" Sounds considerable like the glorious Fourth, don't it ? "
wliispered INIr. SnoAV.

" Wliich hasna put nuicklo ilesh on their bones as yet,"
said the literal Mrs. Na.-<myth.

"I was about to say tluit— that "

" Tliat tho British can lick ! Jl creation, and we can lick the
British,'' snid Mr. Snow.

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

" Any crisis involving a trial of strength, ^v•oulc^ prove our
superiority," said Mi'. Foster, taking a now start.

'* That 's bficn proved already," said jVIi". Snow, ■watching
the sparkle in Graeme's eye. Sh(^ laughed mei-rily.

" No, IVIi'. Snow. They may fight it out without me to-
night."

"I am glad you are growing prudent. JMrs. Nasmyth,
you would n't believe how angry she was with me one night."

" Angiy ! " repeated Graeme. " Ask Celestia."

" AVell, I guess I should n't have much chance between
Celestia and you. But I said then, and I say now, you '11
make a lirst-rato Yankee gu"l yourself before seven years."

" A Yankee ! " rej^eated her brothers.

" A Yankee," echoed Menie.

"Hush, Menie. Mr. Snow is laughing at us," said
Graeme.

"I would rather bo just a httle Scotch lassie, than a
Yankee Queen," said Menie, firmly.

There was a laugh, and Menie was indignant at her
brothers for joining.

" You mean a president's wife. We don't allow queens
here — in this free country," said IMr. Snow.

"But it is di-cadful that you should hate us so," said the
Squire."

" I hke you, and the Judge. And I hke Mrs. Merle."

" And is that all ? " asked Mr. Snow, solemnly.

"I like Emily. And I hke you when you don't vex
Graeme."

" And who else ? " ushed Mr. Greenleaf.

" I hke Celestic;. h!he 's nice, and doesna ask questions.
And so does 'Trr^ome. And Janet says that Celestia is a lady.
Don't you like her ? " asked Menie, thinking her friend un-
responsive.

" You seem to be good at asking questions yourself, Menie,
my woman," interposed Mrs. Nasmyth. " I doubt you
should be in your bed by this time." But Mr. Snow caused

a diversion from anything so melancholy.

i ■

Janet's love and sekvice.

"And don't Cousin Celostia like me?" asked he.
" Yes ; she said you were a good friend of hers ; but is she
yooi- cousin?"

"Weil, not exactly— we 're not very near cousins. But I
see to her some, and mean to. I like her."

The study doo/ cpened, and there was no time for an
answer frora any one ; but as ]\Ii'. Snow went up the hill he
said to himself: "Yes, I shall sec to her. She is smart
enough and good enough for him if he does expect to go to
Congress."

k '

CHAPTER X

LIKE the wootl fii'cs," saitl (Jraeine. " Tlioy ai*c far
clearer than the peat fires at home."

They were sitting, Graeme and Janet, accordinfjf to their
usual custom, a little after the others had all pfone to bed.
The study-door was closed, though the light still gleamed
beneath it ; but it was getting late, and the minister would
not be out again.

Graeme might well admii'e such a wood fire as that bo-
fore which they were sitting. The fore-stick had nearly
burned through, and the brands had fallen over the and-
ii'ous, but the gi-cat back-log glowed with light and heat,
though only now and then a bright blaze leapt up. It was
Mot very warm in the room, however, except for their faces,
and Graeme shivered a little as she drew nearer to the fire,
and hardly heeding that Janet did not answer her, fell to
di'caming in the firelight.

Without, the iiide March winds were roai-ing, and within,
too, for that matter. For though carpets, and curtains, and
listings nailed over seams might keep out the bitter frost
when the an* was still, the east whids of March swept in
thi'ough evei-y crack and crevice, chillbig them to the bone.
It roared wildly among the boughs of the great elms in the
yard, and the tall well-sweep creaked, and the bucket swimg
to and fro with a noise that came through Graeme's di'cam
and distiu'bed it at last. Looking up suddenly she became
aware that the gloom that had been gathering over Janet for
many a day hung darkly roimd her now. She (h:ew near to
her, antl laying her arms dovni on her lap in the old fashion,
said softly :

(88)

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Janet's love and service.

"The winter's noar ovor nov, Jnnct,"

"Ay, thank the Lord for that, t'.ny way," said Janot She
knew that Graeme's v/ords and inovenicnt were an invitation
to tell her thoughts, so she ben: forward to collect the scat-
tered brands and settle the fore-stick, for she felt that her
thoughts were not of tlie kind to bear teUing to Graeme or
to any one. As she gathered them together between the
andirons, she sighed a sigh of mingled sorrow and impa-
tience. And the light that leapt suldenly up made the cloud
on her brow more visible. For the winter that had been so
full of enjojnuent to all the rest had been a time of trial to
Janet.

To the young people, the vriuter had brought numberless
pleasures. The lads had gone to the school, where they were
busy and happy, and the little ores had been busy and
happ3' at home. None had enjoyed llie winter more than
Graeme. The change had been altogether beneficial to
Ro ic ; and never since their mother's death had the elder
sif-ter been so much at ease about her. Thpro was little to
be done m the way of making or mending, and, with leisure
at her disposal, she was falling into her old habits of read-
ing and di'eammg. She had been busy teaching the little
ones, too, and at night worked with her brothers at their
lessons, so that the winter had been profitable as well as
pleasant to her. At all times in his study, amid the silent
friends that had become so dear to liim, ]Mr. Elliott could bo
content ; and in liis eiforts to become acquainted with his
people, their wants and tastes, he had been roused to some-
thing Uke the cheerfulness of former years.

But to Janet the winter had been a time of conflict, a
long struggle Avith imseen enemies ; and as she sat there in
the dim fii'clight, she was telling herself sorrowfully that she
would be worsted by them at last. Homesickness, bhnd and
um-easonuig, had taken possession of her. Night by night
she had lain down with the dull pain gnawing at her heai't.
Momuig by morning she had risen sick with the inappeas-
ablc yearning for her home, a longing that would not bo

JANET S LOVE AND SEUVICl':.

stilled, to walk again tlu'ough familiar scenes, to look again
on familiar faces.

The iirst letters from home, so longed for by all, so wel-
comed and rejoiced over by the rest, brought httle comfort
to her. Arthur's letters to his father and (iraeme, so clear
and full of all they wished to hear about, " so hkc a printed
book," made it all the harder for her to bear her distippoint-
ment over Sandy's obscure, ill-sjielt and indifi'erently-written
letter. She had of old justly prid(Hl herself on Sandy's
" hand o' write ; " but she had yet to learn the diiference
between a school-boy's writmg, with a copper-plate setting
at the head of the page, and that which must be the re-
sult of a first encoimter with the combined difficulties of
writing, spelling and composition.

Poor Sandy ! Ho had labored hard, doubtless, and had
done his best, but it was not satisfactory. Jn wishing to be
minute, he had become mysterious, and, to the same end,
the impartial distribution through all parts of the letter of
capitals, commas and full stops, had also tended. There Avas
a large sheet closely written, and out of the whole but two
clear ideas could be gathered. Air. More of the parish school
was dead, and they were to have a new master, and that
Mrs. Smith had changed her mind, and he was not to be at
Saughleas for the winter after all.

There were other troubles too, that Janet had to bear
alone. The cold, that served to brace the othei's, chilled
her to the bone. Unaccustomed to any greater vaiiatiou of
temperature than might be very well met by the putting on
or taking off of her plaid, the bitter cold of the New Eng-
land whiter, as she went out and in about her work, was
felt keenly by her. She could not resist it, nor gunrd herself
against it. Stove-heat was mibearable to her. An hoiu*
spent in IMrs. Snow's hot room often made her unlit for any-
thing for hours after ; and sleigh-riding, which never failed
to excite the childien to the highest spirits, was as fatal to
her comfort as the pitching of the "Steadfast" had been.
To say that she was ilLsappouited a\ ith herself in view of all

ill

JANI'.T S LOVK AKD SERVICE.

k '!

this, iH, by no mcana, saving enough. She was angry at her
folly, and called herself " silly body " and " useless body,"
striving with all her might to throw the burden from
her.

Then, again, with only a few exceptions, she did not like
the people. They were, in her opinion, at the same time,
extravagant and penurious, proud and mean, ignorant, yet
Aviso " above what is written," self-satisfied and curious. The
fact A\as, her ideas of things in general were disarranged by
the state of affairs in Merleville. She never could make out
"who was somebody and who was nacbody;" and what
made the matter more mysterious, thoy did not seem to know
themselves.

Airs. Judge Merle had made her first visit to the minister's
in company with the v.ife of the village blacksmith, and if
there was a lady between them IMi's. Page evidently believed
it to bo herself. Mrs. IMcrle was "a nice motherly bod}',
that sat on her seat and behaved herself, while INIrs. Pago
went hither and thither, opening doors and spying fairlics,
speii'ing about things she had no concern with, hke an ill-
bred woman as she is ; and passing her remarks on the
minister and the preaching, as if she were a judge." Both
of them had invited her to visit them very kindly, no doubt ;
but Janet had no satisfaction in this or in anything that con-
cerned them. She was out of her element. Things were
quite different from anytliing she had been used with. She
grow depressed and doubtful of herself, and no wonder that
a gloom Mas gMtheriiig over her.

Some thought of all this came into Graeme's mind, as she
sat watching lier while she gathered together the brands with
unsteady hands, and with the thought came a little remorse.
She had been thinking little of Janet and her trials all theso
days she had been passing so pleasantly with her boolis, in
the corner of her father's study. She blamed herself for her
thonghth^ssness, and resolvod that it should not be so in
future. In the mean tunc, it seemed as though she must say
something to chase the shadow from the Icind face. But she

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

did not know what to say. Janet set down the tongs, and
raised herself with a sigh. Graeme drew nearer.

" "What is it, O'anct '? " asked she, laying her hand caress-
ingly on her's. " Winna you tell me ? "

Jauet gave a startled look into her face.

" What is what, my dear?"

" Something is vexing yon, and you winna tell me," said
Graeme, reproachfully.

"Hoot, lassie ! what should ail me. I 'm weel enough."

" You are wearying for a letter, maybe. But it 's hardly
time yet, Janet."

" I 'm no weaiyin' the night more than usual. And if I got
a letter, it mightna give mo muckle comfoii."

" Then something ails you, and you winna tell me," said
Graeme again, in a grieved voice.

"My dear, I hae nae thing to tell."

"Is it me, Janet? Hae I done anything? Tou ken I
wouidna willingly do wrong ? " pleaded Graeme.

Janet put her fingers over the girl's hps.

"Wliist, my lammic. It's nacthing — or naething that
can be helpit," and she struggled fiercely to keep back the
flood that was swelHng in her full heaii;. Graeme said no-
thing, but stroked the toil-woni hand of her friend, and, at
last, laid her cheek down upon it.

" Lassie, lassie ! I canna help it," and the long pent up
flood gushed forth, and the tears fell on Graeme's bent head
like rain. Graeme neither moved nor spoke, but she prayed
in her heart that God would comfort her friend in her un-
known sorrow ; and by the first words she spoke she knew
that sjio was comforted.

" I am an auld fule, I believe, or a spoiled bairn, that doesna
ken it's ain mind, and I think I 'm growing waur ilka day,"
and she paused to wipe the tears from her face.

" But what is it, Janet ? " asked Graeme, softly.

"It's naething, dear, nae tiling that I can tell to mortal
I dinna ken what has come ower me. It 's just as if a giant
had a gripe o' me, and move I canna. But surely I '11 be set
free in time."

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JAN1:T 8 LOVE AND 8EKVICE.

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There was nothing' Oraomo conlJ say to this ; but she laid
her check down on Janet's hand again, and there were tears
iijjon it.

'* Now dinna do that, Miss Graeme," cried Janet, struggling
with another wave of the returning flood. " AVhat will come
o' us if you give way. There 's naething ails me but that
I 'm an auld falc, and I canna help that, you ken."

" Janet, it was an awful sacrifice you made, to leave your
mother and 8andy to come with us. I never thought till to-
night how gi'eat it must have been."

" Ay, lassie. I '11 no deny it, but dinna think that I gnidge
it now. It wasna made in a right sperit, and tliat the Lord
is showing mo. I thought you couldna do without me "

"We couldna, Janet."

" And I aye thought if I could be of any use to your father
and your father's bairns, and could see them contented and
well in a strange land, that would be enough for me. And I
liae gotten my wish. You 're a' weel, and weel contented,
and ray heart is lying in my breast as heavy as lead, and no
strength of mine can lift the bui'dcn. God help me."

" God will help you," said Graeme, softly. " It is the sore
homesickness, like the captives by Babel stream. But the
Lord never brought you here in anger, and, Janet, it will
pass away."

" Weel, it maybe. That 's what my mother said, or some-
thing like it. He means to let me see that you can do with-
out me. But I '11 bide still awhile, anyway."

Graeme's face was full of dismay.

" Janet ! what could we ever do without you ? "

" Oh, you could leara. But I 'm not going to leave you
yet. The giant shallna master me with my will. But, oh I
lassie, whiles I thuik the Lord has turned against me for my
self-seoking and pride."

" But, Janet," said Graeme, gravely, " the Lord never turns
against his own people. And if anybody in the world is free
from self-seeking it is you. It is for us you are living, and
not for yourself."

JAXET 8 LOVE AND SKUVICK.

Janet shook her licatl.

" And, Janet, when the bonny spiing days come, the giant
will let you go. The weight will be hfted off, I 'm sure it will.

And, Janet, ab( at Sandy . You may l)e sure o' him. If

you had been there to guide him, ho might have been will-
ful, and have gone astray, like others. But now the liord
will have him in His keeping, for, Janet, if ever a fatherless
child was left to the Lord, you left Sandy for our sakes, and
He v/ill never forsake him, never, m'ver ! "

Janet's tears were falling softly now, like the bright di-ops
after the tempest is over,, and the bow of promise ia about to
span the heavens.

" And, Janet, we all love you dearly." Graeme had risen,
and put her arms round her nci*k by this time. " Sometimes
the boys arc rough, and don't seem to care, but tliey do care ;
and I 'm thoughtless, too, and careless," she added, humbly,
"but I was that with my motlier, whik-s, and you ken I
loved her dearly." And the cry of pain that came with tho
words, told how dearly her mother was remembered still.
Janet held her close.

" And, Janet, you must 'mind mo of tilings, as my mother
used to do. Wiien I get a book, you ken I forget things,
and you wanna let me do wrong for my mother's sake. We
have no mother, Janet, and what could we do without you ?
And all this pain will pass away, and you will grow light-
hearted again."

And so it was. The worst was over after that night.
Much more was said before they separated, and Graeme
realized, for the first time, some of the discomforts of their
present way of living, as far as Janet was concerned. House-
keeping affairs had been left altogether in her hands, and
everything was so different from all that she had been accus-
tomed to, and she was slow-to leam new ways. The produce
system was a great embarrassment to her. This getting '* a
pickle meal" from one, and "a curn tawties" from o,n other,
she could not endure. It was " hving from hand to mouth "
at best, to say uotliing of the uncomfortable doubts now and

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.TANKTS LOVE AND SKRVICK.

then, as to wlictlior tlio articles broiifrht Avcro intended as
presents, or as tlio 2>i>'yn»t'nt of the " minister's tax," as tho
least delieato amonj^ tho people called it.

"And, my dear, I just wish your fatlier would j^et a settlo
mcnt with them, and wo would bef,'in a^'ain, and put aethin^
down in a book. For I hac my doubts as to how we are to
make the two ends meet. Tilings mount up you ken, and wo
maun try and guide things."

Crraeme looked gi'ave. "I wonder what my father thinks,"
said she. Janet shook her head.

" Wo manna trouble youi* father if wo cau help it. Tho
last minister they had had enough ado to live, they say, and
he had fewer bairns. I 'm no' feared but wo '11 bo provided
for. And, Miss Graeme, my dear, you 'U need to begin and
keep an account again."

Janet's voice had the old cheerful echo in it by this time,
and Graeme promised, with good heart, to do all she could
to keep her father's mind easy, and tho household accounts
sti'aight.

Weeks passed on, and even before the bonny spring days
had come, the giant had let Janet go, and sho was her own
cheerful self again. Tho letter that Hariy brought in with
a shout before March was over, was a very different letter
from the oho that had caused Janet to shed such tears of
disappointment on that sad November, though Sandy was
tho wiiter still. Tho two only intelhgible items of news
which tho last one had conveyed, were repeated here, and
enlarged upon, with reason. A new master had come to the
school, who was taking great pains with all the lads, and es-
pecially with Sandy, " as you will see by this letter, mother,"
ho wrote, " I hope it will bo better worth reading than the
last."

If JNIrs. Smith had changed her mind, it was all for good.
Janet was no more to thuik of her mother as hving by her-
self, in the lonely cot in .the glen, but farther up in another
cottage, within sight of the door of Saughloas. And Sandy
was to go to tho school a while yet, and there was no fear

. r

j^vnet'b love and service. 91

but somctliing woiUd be fountl for liim to do, either on the
farm, or in the garden. And so his mother was to set her
heart at rest about them.

And her heart was set at rest ; and Janet sang at her work
again, and cheered or chid the banns accorchng as they need-
ed, but never more, though slio Iiad many cares, andti-oubles
not a few, did the giant liold her in his grasp again.

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Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14SB0

(716) 872-4503

4<%

:i?i

CHAPTER XI.

Mil
i

" ~\ /T ISS GRAEME," said Janet, softly opening the study
IV I dooi^ and looking in. Graeme was at her side in
a moment.

" Never mind putting by your book, I only want to tell
yon, that I 'm going up the brae to see j\Irs. Snow awhile.
It 's no' cold, and I '11 take the bairns with me. So just give
a look at the fire now and then, and have the kettle boiling
gin tea time. I winna bide late."

Graeme put down her book, and hastened the preparations
of the little cnes.

" I ^dsh I could go with you, Janet. How mild and bright
it is to-day."

" But your papa mustna be left to the keeping of fires, and
the enteriivUiment of chance visitors. You winna think long
with your book, you ken, and we '11 be home again before it 's
dark."

" Think long !' echoed Graeme. " Not if I 'm left at peace
wiih. my book — I only hope no one will come."

" My dear !" remonstrated Janet, " that 's no' hospitable.
I daresay if anybody comes, you '11 enjoy their company foi
a change. You maun try and make fi-iends with folk, Hke
Menie here."

Graeme laughed. " It 's easy for Menie, she 's a child.
But I have to behave myself like a grown woman, at least,
with most folk. I would far rather have the afternoon to
myself."

She watched them down the street, and then betook her^
self to her book, and her accustomed seat at the study win-
dow. Life was very pleasant to Graeme, these days. She
(02)

JANET S LOVE AND SEKVICE.

did not manifest her liglit-hcartcdncss by outvrard signs ; slic
•was almost always as quiet as sorrow and many cares had
made her, since her mother's death. But it was a quiet al-
ways cheerful, always ready, to change to grave talk with
Janet, or merry play with the little ones. Janet's returning
cheei'fulness banished the last shade of anxiety fi*om her
mind, and she Avas too young to go searching into the future
for a bui'den to bear.

She was fast growing into companionship with her father.
She knew that he loved and tiTisted her entirely, and she
strove to deserve his confidcnc;^. In all matters concerning
her brothers and sisters, ho coBs;ilted her, as he might have
consulted her mother, and as well as an elder sister could,
she fulfilled a mother's duty to them. In other matters, her
father depended upon her Judgment and discretion also.
Often he was beguiled into forgetting what a child she still
was, while he discussed -with her, subjects more suited for
one of maturer years.

And it was pleasant to be looked upon with respect and
consideration, by the new friends they had found here.
She was a little more than a child in years, and shy and
doubtful of herself withal, but it was very agi-eeable to be
treated hke a woman, by the kind people about her. Not
that she would have confessed this. Not that she was even
conscious of the pleasure it gave her. Indeed, she was wont
to declare to Janet, in piivate, that it was all nonsense, and
she wished that people would not speak to her always, as
though she were a woman of wisdom and experience. But
it was agreeable to her all the same.

She had her wish that afternoon. Nobody came to dis-
turb them, till the faihng light admonished her that it was
time to think of Janet, and the tcakL'ttle. Tlien there came
a knock at the door, and Graeme opened it to Mr. Grcenleaf.
If she was not glad to see him, her looks behed her. He
did not seem to doubt a welcome fi'om her, or her father either,
as he came in.

What the charm was, that beguiled IMr. Grcenleaf into

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JANET S LOVE AND SEKVICP:.

spending so many hours in the minister's study, the good
people of Merlcvillo found it difficult to say. The squire's
ill-concealed mdifference to the opinions of people gener-
ally, had told against him always. For once, Mrs. Page had
been too charitable. He was not in a hopeful state, at least,
in her sense of the term, and it might be doubted, whether
fi'equent intercourse with the minister, would be hkely to en-
courage the young man to the attainment of IMrs. Page's
standard of excellence. But to the study he often came,
and he Avas never an unwelcome guest.

"If I am come at a wrong time, teU me so," said he, as he
shook hands with Mr. Elhott, over a table covered with books
and papers.

" You can hardly do that," said the minister, preparing to
put the books and papers away. " I am nearly done for the
night. Excuse me, for a minute only."

Graeme lingered talking to their visitor, till her father
should be quite at liberty.

" I have something for you," said Mr. Greenleaf, in a min-
ute. Graeme smiled her thanks, and held out her hand for
the expected book, or magazine. It was a note this time.

"From Celestial" she exclaimed, coloring a Uttle.

Graeme did not aspire to the honor of Celestia's confi-
dence in all things, but she knew, or could guess enough,
about the state of affairs between her fiiend and Sir. Green-
leaf, to be wonderfully interested in them, and she could not
help feeling a little embarrassed, as she took the note from
his hands.

" Ecad it," said he.

Graeme stooped down to catch the firehght. The note
was veiy brief. Celestia was going away, and wished Graeme
to come and see her, to-morrow. IVIr. Greenleaf would fetch
her.

" Celestia, going away 1" she exclaimed, raising herself up.

" Yes," said he, " have j^ou not heard it ?"
" I heard the farm was to bo sold, but I hoped they would
still btay iu Merle ville."

JANET S LOVE AND SEKVICE.

" So did I," said Mr. Grcenleaf, gravely.

« AYhcn ^N ill tlioy go ?"

" Miss Jones, is to be a teaclicr, in the new seminary at
Eixford. Tlicy are going to live there, and it cannot be very
long before they go."

"To her uncle?"

"No, Celestia thinks her mother would not bo happy
there. They will live by themselves, with the childi-en."

"How sorry Celestia will be to go away," said Graeme,
sadly.

"She will not be persuaded to stay," said IMr. Groenlcaf.

Graeme darted a quick, embanasscd look at him, as much
as to say, " Have you asked her ? " He answered her in words.

"Yes, I have tried, and failed. She does not care to stay."

There was only sadness in his voice ; at least, she detected
nothing else. There was none of the bitterness which,
while it made Cclestia's heart ache that afternoon, had made
her all the more determined to do what she bcHeved to bo
right.

" Oh ! it 's not that," said Graeme, earnestly, " I 'm sure she
cares. I mean if she goes, it will be because she thinks it
right, not because she wishes it."

" Is it right to make herself and me unhappy ? "

"But her mother and the rest. They are in trouble; it
would seem Hke forsaking them."

" It need not. They might stay with her."

" I think, perhaps — I don't think — " Graeme hesitated,
and then said hurriedly,

" Are you rich, Mr. Greenleaf ? " He laughed.

" I behove you are cne of those who do not compute riches
by the number of dollars one possesses. So I thmk, to you I
may safely answer, yes. I have contentment with little, and
on such wealth one pays no taxes."

"Yes; but — I thmk, — oh, I can't say what I think; but,
I'm sure Celestia is right. I am quite sure of that."

Mr. Greenleaf did not look displeased, though Greamc feared
he might, at her bold speech.

i M

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

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" I don't believe I had better take you to see her to-morrow.
You will encourage her to hold out against me."

" Not against you. She would never do that. And, besides,
it would make no difference. Celestia is wise and strong,
and will do what she believes to be right."

" Wise and strong," repeated Mr. Greenleaf, smiling, but
his face grew grave in a minute again. Mr. Elliott made a
movement to join them, and Graeme thought of her neglected
teakettle, and hastened away.

" Never mind," she whispoio J, " it will all end well. Things
always do ^hen people do right."

Mr. Greenleaf might have some doubt as to the truth of
this comforting declaration in all cases, but he could have
none as to the interest and good wishes of his little friend, so
ho only smiled in reply. Not that he had really man;y serious
doubts as to its ending well. He had more than once that
veiy afternoon giieved Celestia by saying that she did not care
for him; but, if he had ever had any serious trouble on the
subject, they vanished -when the first touch of anger and dis-
appointment had w^orn away, giving him time to acknow-
ledge and rejoice over the " strength and wisdom " so un-
hesitatingly asci-jbed by Graeme to her friend. So that it
was not at all in a desponding spirit that he turned to reply,
when the minister addi'essed him.

They had scarcely settled down to one of theii* long, quiet
talks, when they were summoned to tea by Graeme, and be-
fore tea was over, Janet and the bairns came home. The
boys had found their way up the hill when school was over,
and they all came home together in Mr. Snow's sleigh. To
escape from the noise and confusion which they brought with
them, Mr. (ircenlcaf and the minister went into the study

again.

During the silence that succeeded their enti*ancc, there
came into Mr. Greenleaf's mind a thought that had been
often there before. It was a source of ^^onder to him that
a man of Mr. Elliott's intellectual power and cultui'e should
content himself in so quiet a place as Mcrleville, and to-right

JANET S LOVE AND SEKVICE.

ho ventiu'cd to give expression to his thouglits, Mr. Elliott
smiled.

" I don't see that my being content to settle down here for
life, is any more wonderful than that you should have done
so. Indeed, I should any, far less wonderful. You are young
and have the world before you."

" But my case is quite different. I settle here to get a
livmg, and I mean to get a good one too, and besides," added
he, laughing, " Merleville is as good a place as any other to go
to Congress from; there is no American but may have that
before him you know."

" As for the living, I can get here such as will content me.
For the rest, the souls in this quiet place are as precious as
elsewhere. I am thankful for my field of labor.

]VIr. Greenleaf had heard such words before, and he had
taken them "for what they were worth," as a correct thing
for a minister to saCy. But the quiet earnestness and simph-
city of ]Mr. Elliott's manner struck him as being not just a
matter of course.

" He is in earnest about it, and does not need to use many
words to prove it There must be something in it." He did
not answer him, however.

"There is one thing which is worth consideration," con-
tinued IVIr. Elliott, " you may be disai)pointed, but I cannot
be so, in the nature of things."

" About getting a living ? " said IVIr. Greenleaf, and a vaj^ne
remembrance of Deacons Fish and Slowcome made him move
uneasily m his chair.

" That is not what I was thinking of, but I suppose I may
be sure of that, too. * Yoiu* bread shall be given you, and
your water sure.' And there is no such thing as disappoint-
ment m that for which I really am labormg, the glory of God,
and the good of souls."

" "Well," said Mr. Greenle.-if, gTavely, " there must be some-
thing in it that I don't see, or you AviU most assui'edly be dis-
appointed. It is by no means impossible that I may have
my wish, men of humbler powers than mine — I may say it
5

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JAXET « LOVE AND SERVICE.

without vanity — have risen higher than to the Congress of
our country. I don't look upon mine as by any means a
hopeless ambition. But the idea of your ever seeing all the
crooked natm-es in Merleville made straight ! Well, to say
the least, I don't see how you can be very sanguine about
it."

" Well, I don't say that even that is beyond my ambition,
or beyond the power of Him whom I serve to accomphsh.
But though I may never see this, or the half of this accom-
plished, it does not follow that I am to be disappointed,
more than it follows that your happiness will be secured
when you sit in the Congress of this gieat nation, or mle in
the AVhite House even, which is not beyond your ambition
either, I suppose. You know how a promise may be ' kept to
the ear and broken to the heart,' as somebody says."

" I know it is the fashion to speak in that way. We learn
in our school books, all about the foUy of ambition, and the
unsatisfying nature of pohtical greatness. But even if the
attainment must disappoint, there is interest and excitement
in the pursuit. And, if you will allow me to say so, it is not
so in your case, and to me the disappointment seems even
more certain."

Mr. Elliott smiled.

" I suppose the converse of the poet's sad declaration may
be true. The promise may be broken to the eye and ear, and
yet fulfilled divinely to the heart. I am not afraid."

" And, certainly," thought the young man, " he looks calm
and hopeful enough."

"And," added Mr. Elliott, "as to the interest of the
pursuit, if that is to be judged by the importance of the end
to be attained, I think imne may well bear comparison to
yours."

" Yes, in one sense, I suppose — though I don't understand
it. I can imagine an interest most intense, an engagement
— a happiness altogether absorbing in such a labor of love,
but — I was not looking at the matter fi'om your point of
view."

Janet's love and service.

"But from no other j^oint of view can the subject bo fairly
seen," said Mr. Elliott, quietly.

" Well, I ha^ 3 known few, even among clergjmcn, who have
not had their eyes turned pretty fi-equently to another side
of the matter. One ought to be altogether above the neces-
sity of thinking of earthly things, to bo able to enjoy thi'owing
himself wholly into such a work, and I fancy that can be
said of few."

"I don't understand you," said IVIr. Elliott. "Do you
mean that you doubt the sincerity of those to whom you
refer."

" By no means. My thoughts were altogether in another
direction. Li fact, I Avas thinking of the great ' bread and
butter ' struggle in which ninety-nine out of eveiy hundi'ed
are for dear life engaged ; and none more earnestly, and
few with less success, than men of youi' profession."

Mr. Elliott looked as though he did not yet quite
understand. IMr. Greenleaf hesitated, slightly at a loss, but
soon went on.

" Constituted as wo are, I don't see how a man ca.n
wholly devote liimself to a work he thinks so great, and yet
have patience to struggle with the thousand petty cares of
life. The shifts and turnings to which insufficient means
must reduce one, cannot but vex and hurt such a nature, if
it does not change it at last. But I see I fail to make my-
self understood by you ; let me try again. I don't know how
it may be in your country, but here, at least as far as my
personal obsei^vation has extended, the remuneration received
by ministers is insufficient, not to say paltry. I don't mean
that in many cases they and their families actually suifer,
but there are few of them so situated as regards income, that
economy need not be the very first consideration in all their
arrangements. Comparing them with other professional
men they may be called poor. Such a thing as the gratifica-
tion of taste is not to be thought of in their case. There is
nothing left after the bare necessaries are secured. It is a
struggle to bring up their childi'en, a struggle to educate

I i

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JANET 8 LtAE AND .sEKVlCE.

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thcni, a struggle to live. And what is worse than all, the
pittance, which is rijifhtly their 's, comes to them often in a
way which, to say the least, is suggestive of charity given
and received. No, really, I cannot look on the life of a
ininister as a very attractive one."

" I should think not, certainly, if such are your views of
it," said Mr. EUiott.

" I wish I could have the comfort of doubting their just-
ness, but I cannot, unless the majority of cases that have
fallen under my observation are extreme ones. Why, there
are college friends of mine who, in any other profession,
might have distinguished themselves — might have become
wealthy at least, who are now in some out of the way parish,
with wives and Uttle children, biu'dened with the cares of
life. How they are to struggle on in the future it is sad to
tliink of. They will either give up the profession or die, or
degenerate into very commonplace men before many years."

"Unless they have some charm against it — which may
very well be," said Mr. Elliott, quietly.

" I see you do not agree with me. Take yourself for in-
stance, or rather, let us take your predecessor. He was a
good man, all say who knew him well, and with time and
study he might have proved himself a great man. But if
ever a man's life was a struggle for the bare necessaries of
life, his was, and the culpable neglect of the people in the
regular payment of his very small salary was the cause of
his leaving them at last. He has since gone West, I hear, to
a happier lot let us hope. The cu'cumstances of his j)rede-
cessor were no better. He died here, and his wife broke
down in a vain effort to maintain and educate his children.
She was brought back to Merleville and laid beside her hus-
band less than a year ago. There is something wrong in the
matter somewhere."

There was a pause, and then Mr. Greenleaf continued.

" It may seem an unkindly effort in me to try to change
your views of your future in Merleville. Still, it is bettor
that you should be in some measure prepared, for what I

JANKT S LOVE AND SEKVICl!.

101

fear awaits you. Otherwise, you might be disgiistccl with
us aU."

" I shall take refuge in the thought that you are showing
me the dark side of the picture," said i\Ir. Elhott.

" Pray do. Aud, indeed,* I am. I may have said more
than enough in my earnestness. I am sure when you really
come to know oiu' people, you will hke them notwithstand-
ing things that we might wish otherwise."

"I hke you akeady," said Mr. Elliott, smiUng. "I assure
you I had a great respect for you as the children of tlie
Puritans, before ever I saw you."

"Yes, but I am afi'aid you will hke us less, before you
like us better. We are the childi'en of the Pmitans, but
very httle, I daresay, like the grave gentlemen up on your
shelves yonder. Your countrymen are, at first, generally
disappointed in us as a people. Mind, I don't allow that we
are in reahty less worthy of respect than you kindly suppose
us to be for our fathers' sakcs. But we are different. It ia
not so much that we do not reach so high a standard, as
that we have a different standard of excellence — one that
your education, habits, and prepossessions as a people, do
not prepare you to appreciate us."

" Well," said Mr. Elliott, as his friend paused.

"Oh! I have little more to say, except, that what is
generally the experience of yom* countrymen will probably
be your's in Merle ville. You have some disappointing dis-
coveries to make among us, you who are an earnest man
and a thinker."

" I think a want of earnestness can hardly be called a
sin of your countrymen," said the minister.

" Earnestness ! " said Mr. Greenleaf . " No, we are earnest
enough here in Merleville. But the most of even the good men
among us seem earnest, only in the pursuit of that, in com-
parison to which my political aspu'ations seem lofty and
praiseworthy. It is wealth they seek. Not that wealth
which will result in magnificent expenditure, and whi(;h, in
a certain sense, may have a charm for even high-minded

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102

JANKT8 LOVE AND SKUVICi:.

men, but nioncy-makinfj in its meanest form — the scraping
toiifcthcr of copixT coins for tlicir own sakcs. At least ono
mi^lit think so, for any good they ever seem to get of it."

" You arc severe," said the minister, quietly.

*' Not too severe. This seems to be the aim of all of us,
■whether wo are willing to acknowledge it or not. Ana such
a grovelling end will naturally make a man unscrupulous as
to the means to attain it. There are not many men among
us here — I don't know more than two or three — who would
not be sm'prised if you told them, being out of the pulpit,
that they had not a pcricct right to make the very most out
of their fiiends — even by shaving closely in matters of busi-
ness."

" And yet you say their standard is a high one ? "

" High or not, the religious people among us don't seem
to doubt their own Christianity on account of these things.
And what is more, they don't seem to lose faith in ca(!h.
other. But how it will all seem to you is another matter."

" How does it seem to you ? "

" Oh, I am but a spectator. Being not one of the initiated,
I am not supposed to understand the change they i)rofess to
have undergone ; and so, instead of being m doubt about
particular cases, I am disposed to think Uttle of the whole
matter. With you it is different."

"Yes, with me it is indeed diflferent," said the minister,
gravely — so gravely, that Mr. Greenleaf almost regi'etted
having spoken so fieely, and when he spoke again it was to
change the subject.

" It must have required a great wrench +o break away from
yom' people and country and old associations," said he, in a
little. Mr. ElHott stai-ted.

" No, the wrench came before. It would have cost me
more to stay and grow old in my own land than it did to
leave it, than it ever can do to Hve and die among strangers."

Fearful that he had awakened painful thoughts, Mr. Green-
leaf said no more. In a little Mr. Elliott went on,

" It was an old thought, this wishing to find a home for

H.i

JAKET8 LOVE AND SEUVICK.

103

our cliildi'en in tliis grand now world. Wo had always looked
forward to it soiuctimc. And when I was left alone, the
tliou<^lit of my children's future, and the longing to get away —
anywhere — brought me here."

He paused, and when ho spoke again it was more calml}'.

" Perhaps it was cowardly in me to flee. There was help
for mo there, if my faith had not failed. I thought it would
be Ijetter for my cliikh'on when I left them to leave them
here. But God knows it was no desire to enrich myself that
brought me to America.

" We can hve on little. I trust you will be mistaken in
your fears. But if these troubles do come, we must try, with
God's grace, and Mrs. Nasmyth's help, to get through them
as best we can. We might not better ourselves by a change,
as you seem to think the evil a national one."

"The love and pursuit of the 'almighty dollar,' is most
certainly a national characteristic. As to tl ; bearing it r-^ay
have in church matters m other places, of course I have not
the nicaii.. of judgmg. Here I know it has beeii bad enough
ir the past."

" Well, I can only say I have found the people most kind
and liberal hitherto," said Mr. EUiott,

" Have you had a settlement with them since you came ?"
asked the squire ; the remembrance of various remarks he
had heard of late comuig unpleasantly to his mind.

" No, I have not yet. But as the half-year is nearly over,
I suppose it will come soon. Still I have no fears — I think
I need have none. It is not theirs but them I seek.

" Do you remember the Sabbath I first camo among yon ?
I saw you there among the rest. If my heart rose up hi
thankfulness to God that day, it was with no thought of gold
or gear. God is my witness that I saw not these people as
possessors of houses and lands, but of precious souls — living
souls to bo encouraged — slumbeiing souls to be aroused —
dead souls to be made alive in Cln-ist, through His own Word,
spoken by me and blessed by Him.

"No, I do not think I can possibly be disajopointed in this

■.^li']

104

Janet's love and service.

matter. I may have to bear trial, and it may come to me as
it oftcnest comes to God's peoplc,lQ the very way that seems
hardest to bear, but God ivill bless his Word. And even if I
do not Hve to sou it, I can rest in the assurance that after-
ward, ' both he that soweth an4 he that reapeth shall rejoice
together^^"

He paused. A momentary gleam of triumph passed over
his face and left it peaceful.

" The peace that passcth understanding,*' thought the
young man, with a sigh. For he could not quite satisfy him-
self by saying, that IVIr. Elliott was no man of business, an
unworldly man. It came mto his mind that even if the min-
ister were chasing a shadow, it was a shadow more satisfying
than his possible reahty of political gi-catncss. So he could
not but sigh as he sat watching that peaceful face. The min-
ister looked up and met his eye.

" And so, my friend, I think we must end where we begun.
You may be disappointed even in the fullilhnent of your
hopes. But for me, aU must end well, let tlie end be what it
may."

ii:«

j;s:

CHAPTER XII.

THE time of settlement came at last. The members of
the church and congi-egation were requested to bring
to Deacon Sterne and his coadjutors an account of money
and produce already paid by each, and also a statement of
the sum they intended to subscribe for the minister's suppoi-t
during the ensuing half year. After a delay which, consid-
ering all things, was not more than reasonable, this was done,
and the diliterent accounts being put into regular form by the
proper persons, they were laid before the minister for his
inspection and approval.

This was done by Deacons Fish and Slowcome alone.
Deacon Sterne, as his brethren in office intimated to Mrs.
Nasmyth, when she received them, having just then his
hands full of his own affairs. Deacon Fish " expected" that
brother Sterne had got into trouble. It had been coming on
for some time. Hi? son, the only boy he had left, had been
over to Eixford, and had done somethmg dreadful, folks said,
he did not exactly know what, and the deacon had gone over
to see about it. Deacon Sterne was Janet's favorite among
the men in office, and apart from her regret that he should
not bo present on an occasion so important, she was gi'eatly
concerned for him on his own account.

" Dear me !" said she, " I saw him at the kirk on the Sab-
bath-day, looking just as usual."

" Well, yes, I expect so," said Mr. Fish. " Brother Steme
looks always pretty much so. He aiut apt to show his fcel-
in's, if he 's got any. He '11 have something to suffer with his
son Wilham, I guess, whether he shows it or not."

Janet liked both father and son, though it was well known
6* (105)

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JANET S LOVE AND SEEVICE.

!■

in the town that there was trouble between them ; so instead
of making any answer, she hastened to usher them into tho
study. The minister awaited them, and business began. First
was (hsj)layed the list of subsci-iptions for the commg half-
year. This was quite encouraging. Three hundred and fifty
and odd dollars. This looked well. There had never been
so much subscribed in MerleviUe before. The deacons were
elated, and evidently expected that the minister should be so,*
too. He would be well off now, said they. But the minister
was always a quiet man, and said little, and the last half-
yeai''s settlement was turned to.

There were several sheets of it. The minister in danger
of getting be^vildered among the items, turned to the sum
total. " Two hundi-ed and seventy-two dollars, sixty-two and
a-half cents." He was a httle mystified still, and looked so.

" If there is anything wrong, anything that you object to,
it must be put right," said Deacon Slowcome.

Deacon Fish presumed, " that when Mr. EUiott should have
compared it with the accoimt which he had no doubt kept, it
would be found to be all right."

Mr. Elliott had to confess that no such account had been
kept. He supposed it was all it should be. He really could
say notlung with regard to it. He left the management of
household afiau's entirely to his daughter and Mrs. Nasmyth.
It was suggested that Mrs. Nasmyth should be called in, and
the deacon cleared his voice to read it to her.

" If there 's anything you don't seem to understand or re-
member," prefaced the accommodating Deacon Slowcome,
" don't feel troubled about saymg so. I expect we '11 make
things i^retty straight after a while."

Mi's. Nasmyth looked at the minister, but the minister
did not look at her, and the reading began. After the name
of each person, came the days' work, horse hire, loads of fire-
wood, bushels of corn, pounds of butter and cheese, sugar
and dried apples, which he or she had contributed. Doacou
Fish's subscription was chiefly i>aid by his horse and his cow.
The former had carried the minister on two or three of his

JANET S LOVE AND SEKVICE.

107

most distant visits, and the latter had supplied a quart or
two of milk daily diu'ing a great part of the winter. It was
overpaid indeed by just seventeen and a-haK cents, which,
however, the deacon seemed inclined to make light of.

" There ain't no matter about it. It can go right on to
the next half year. It ain't no matter about it anyhow,"
said he, in liberal mood.

He had an attentive hstener. Mrs. Nasmyth listened with
vain effoi-ts not to let her face betray her utter bewilderment
at the whole proceeding, only assenting briefly when Mr.
Slowcome interrupted the reading, now and then, to say
interrogatively,

" You remember ? "

It uawned upon her at last that these were the items that
made up the subscription for the half year that was over ;
but except that her face changed a little, she gave no sign.
It is possible the deacon had had some slight misgiving as to
how ]Mrs. Nasmyth might receive the statement ; certainly his
voice took a relieved tone as he drew near the end, and at
last read the sum total : " Two hundred and seventy-two
dollars sixty-two and a-half cents."

Again Janet's eye sought the minister's, and this time he
did not avoid her look. The rather pained surprise had all
gone out of his face. Intense amusement at Janet's chang-
ing face, on which bewilderment, incredulity and indigna-
tion were successively v»?ritten, banished, for a moment,
ever other feeling. But that passed, and by the look that
followed Janet knew that she must keep back the words that
were rising to her lips. It required an effort, however, and a
rather awkward silence followed. Deacon Slowcome fipdko
first:

"Well, I suppose, we may consider that it stands all
right. And I, for one, feel cncom'aged to expect great things."

" I doubt, sirs," said Janet in a voice ominously mild and
civil, " there are some things that hacna been put down on
yon paper. There was a curn apples, and a bit o' unco spare
rib, and "

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108

JANETS LOVK A^'D SERVICE.

" Well, it 's possible there are some folks ain't sent in
tlieii* accounts yet. That can be seen to another time."

Janet paid no attention to the interruption.

" There were some eggs from Mrs. Stenie — a dozen and
three, I think — and a goose at the New Year fi'om somebody
else ; and your wife sent a pumpkLn-i)ie ; and there was
the porridge and milk that Judge Merle brought over when
fii'st we came here "

" Ah ! the pie was a present from my wife," said Deacon
Fish, on whom Mrs. Nasmyth's awful irony was quite lost.

" And i presume Judge Merle did n't mean to charge for
the pcnidge, or hominy, or whatever it was," said Deacon
Slowcome.

" And what for no' ? " demanded Janet, turning on him
sharply. " I 'm sure we got far more good and pleasure
from it than ever we got o' youi* bloody fore-quarter of beef,
that near scunnered the bairns ere we were done witli it.
Things should stand on your papers at their true value."

Deacon Slowcome was not, in reality, more surprised at
this outbreak than he had been when his " fore-quarter of
bloody beef" had been accepted unchallenged, but he professed
to be so ; and in his elaborate astonishment allowed Janet's
remarks about a slight mistake she had made, and about the
impropriety of " looking a gift horse in the mouth " to pass
unanswered.

" You were at liberty to return the beef if you did n't want
it," said he, with an injui'ed air.

" Weel, I '11 mind that next time," said she, in a milder
tone, by no means sui'e how the minister might approve of
her plain speaking. Deacon Fish made a diversion in favor
of peace, by holding up the new subsci-iption-hst, and asking
her triumphantly if that " did n't look well. "

"Ay, on paper," said Janet, dryly. *' Figui-es are no' dol-
lars. And if your folk have been thinking that the minister
and his family hae been li\'ing only on the bits o' things writ-
ten down on your paper you are mistaken. The gude money
that has helped it has been worth far more than the like o'

JANET ri LOVE AND SERVICE.

109

that, as I ken wecl, who hae had the spending o' it ; but I
daresay you 're no' needing me longer, sir," she added, ad-
di'essiug the minister, and she ^ef •• the room.

This matter was not alluded to again for several days, but
it did Janet a deal of good to think about it. She had no
time to mdulge in homesick musings, with so defhiite a sul>
ject of indignant speculation as the meamiess of the deacons.
She " was nettled at herself beyond aU patience " that she
should have allowed herself to fancy that so many of the
things on the paper had been tokens of the people's good-
\vill.

" Two himdred and seventy dollars and more," she re-
peated. '* Things mount up, I ken weel ; but I maun take
another look at it And 1 11 hae more sense anither time,
I 'm thinking."

She did not speak to Graeme. There would be no use to
vex her ; but she would fain have had a few words ^^'ith the
minister, but his manner did not encourage her to introduce
the subject. A circumstance soon occurred which gave her
an opening, and the subject, fi'om fii'st to last, was thorouglily
discussed.

Mai'ch was nearly over. The nights were cold still, but
the sun was powerful durmg the day, and there were many
tokens that the earth was about to wake fi'om her long sleep
and prepare for the refreshment of her childi'en. "And
time for her," sighed Janet, taking a retrospective view of all
that had hapjoened since she saw her face.

The boys had been thrown into a state of gTeat excite-
ment by a proposal made to them by their fiiend Mr. Snow.
Ho had offered to give them sixty of the best trees in his
sugar place, with all the articles necessary to the making of
sugar, on terms that, to them, seemed easy enough. They
were to make thou* own preparations, gather the sap, cut
their owai wood, in short, carry on the business entu'oly
themselves ; and, nothing daunted, they went the veiy first
fine day to see the gi-ound and Make a bcgmning. Graeme
and the other gu'ls went with them as far as Mr. Snow'a

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JANET B LOVE AND SERVICE.

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house, and Janet was left alone. The minister was in his
study as usual, and when thoy were all gone, uncomfortable
with the unaccustomed quietness of the house, she arose and
went to the door and looked rather sadly down the street.
She had not long to indulge her feelings of loneliness, how-
ever. A sleigh came slowly gi'ating along the half-bare
street, and its occupant, IVIi'. Silas Spears, not one of her
favorites, stopped before the door, and lost no time in
"hitching" liis horse to the post. Janet set him a chair,
and waited for the accustomed question whether the minister
was at homo, and whether he could see him.

" The body has some sense and discretion," said Janet to
herself, as he annoimced instead that he " wa'ant a going to
stay but a minute, and it would n't be worth while troubhng
the minister." He did stay, however, telling news and ;giving
liis opinion on matters and things in general in a way which
was tolerable to Janet m her solitude. Ho rose to go at
last.

*•■ I *ve got a bucket of sugar out here," said ho. " Our folks
did n't seem to want it, and I thought I 'd fetch it along down.
I took it to Cook's store, but they did n't want it, and they
did n't care enough about it at Sheldon's to want to pay for
it, so I thought I might as well turn it in to -pay my minis-
ter's tax."

So in he came within a minute.

" There 's just exactly twenty-nine pounds with the bucket.
Sugar 's been sellin' for twelve and a-half this winter, and I
guess I ought to have that for it, then we '11 bo about even,
according to my calculation."

"Sugar!" ejaculated Janet, touching the solid black mass
with her finger. " Call you that sugar ? "

" "VMiy, yes, I call it sugar. IVot the best, maybe, but it 's
better than it looks. It '11 be considerable whiter by the time
you di'ain it off, I expect."

" And weigh considerable lighter, I expect," said Mrs. Nas-
myth, unconsciously imitating Mr. Spears' tone and manner
in her rising wrath. " I 'm very much obliged to you, but

Janet's love and service.

Ill

we 'ro in no especial need o' sugar at this time, and we 11 do
without a while before we spend good siller on stuff lilco
that."

" Well, I '11 say eleven cents, or maybe ten, as sugarin'
time is most here. It ain't first rate," ho added, candidly.
"It mightn't just do for tea, but it's as good as any to
sweeten pies and cakes."

" Many thanks to you. But we 're no' given to the makin'
o' j)ies and cakes in this house. Plain bread, or a sup por-
ridge and milk dOv s for as, and it 's mair than we 're like to
get, if things dinna mend with us. So you '11 just take it
with you again."

" AVell," said Mr. Spears, slightly at a loss, " I guess I '11
leave it. I ain't particular about the price Mr. Elhott can
allow me what he thinks it worth, come to use it. I'll leave
it anyhow."

" But you '11 no' leave it, with my consent. Deacon Slow-
come said the minister wasna needing co take anything he
didna want, and the like o' that wo could make no use of."

" The deacon might have said that in a general kind of
way, but I rather g-uess he did n't mean you to take him up
so. I 've been calculating to pay my minister's tax with that
sugar, and I don't know as I 've got anything else handy.
I 'U leave if, and if you don't conclude to keep it, you better
speak to the deacon about it and maybe he '11 give you the
money for it. I 'U leave it anyhow."

" But you '11 no leave it here," exclo.imed Mrs. Nasmyth,
v/hoso patience was not proof against his persistence, and
seizing the bucket, she rushed out at the door, and deposit-
ing it in the sleigh, was in again before the astonished Mr.
Spears quite realized her intention.

" You '11 no' find me failing in my duty to the minister, as
I hae done before," exclaimed she, a httle breatliless with the
exei-tion. "If the minister canna hae his stipend paid in
good siller as he has been used wi', he shall at least hae nae
trash like yon. So dinna bring here again what ither folk
wi^na hae from you, for x '11 hae none o' it."

112

.TANKT S LOVE AND SEUVICK.

i %

>* i

*'I should like to sec tho minister a rninuto," said Mr.
Spears, seatiji*,' himself with dignity. "I don't consider that
you are tho one to settle this business."

" There 's many a thmg that .you dinna consider that
there 's sense in, notwithstandhig. It 's just me that is to
decide this l)nsin(\ss, and a' business where tho minister's
welfare, as regards meat and th-ink, is concerned. So dinna
fash yourscK and me mair about it."

" I 'd like to sec him, anyhow," said he, taking a step to-
wards the study door.

" But you '11 no' see him about any such matter," and
Janet placed herself before him. " I 'm no' to hac tho minis-
ter vexed with the Uke o' that nonsense to-night, or any
night. I wonder you dinna think shame, to hold up your
face to me, forby the minister. What kens the minister
about the Uke o' that? He has other things to think about.
It 's 'wecl that there 's aye me to stand between him and the

like o' you ' glcgs and corbies ' . " And Janet, as her

manner was, when excited, degenerated into Scotch to such
a degree, that her oiiponent forgot his indignation in astonish-
ment, and hstened in silence. Janet was successful. IMr.
Spears was utterly Jionplusscd, and took his way homeward,
by no means sure that he had n't been abused. *' Consider-
able beat, anyhow."

Scarcely had he taken his departure, when Mr. Elliott
made his ai:)pearaiice, having had some idea that something
unusual had been going on. Though loth to do so, Janet
thought best to give a faithful account of what had taken
place. He laughed heartily at her success and Mr. Spears'
discomfitm-e, but it was easy to sec he was not quite at his
ease about the matter.

"I am at a loss to knov/ how all this will end," he said,
gi'avely, after a minute.

" Indeed, sir, you need be at no loss about that. It will
end in a ' toom pantry ' for us, and that before very long."

This was the begimiing of a conversation with regard to
theu' affaiis, that lasted till the children came home. Much

JAN FT S LOVE AND SKRVICK

113

earnest tlionght did the minister bestow on tlio snhjoct for
the next throe days, and on the evening of the fourth, at the
close of a full conference meeting, when most of the moinl)ers
of the church were present, the result of his meditations was
given to the public. He did not use many words, but they
were to the point.

Ho told them of the settlement for the past, and the pros-
pect for the future. He told them that the value to his
family of the articles brought in, was not equal to their value,
as named in the subscription hsts, then* real value he sup-
posed. They could not live in comfort on these tcnns, and
they should never try it. He had a proposal to make to
them. The deacon had estimated that an annual amoimt
equal to seven lumdred dollars could be raised. Let each
subsciiber deduct a seventh part of what he had promised to
pay, and let the remainder be paid in money to the treasurer,
so that he might receive his salary in quarterly payments.
This would be the means of avoiding much that was annoy-
ing to all parties, and was the only terms on which he would
think it wise to remain in Morleville.

He alluded to a report that had lately reached him, as to
his having money invested in Scotland. In the hand of a
friend he had deposited sufficient to defray the expenses of
his eldest son, until his education should be completed. He
had no more. The comfort of his family must depend upon
his salary ; and what that was to be, and how it was to be
paid, must be decided without loss of time.

He said just two or three words about his wish to stay,
about the love he felt for many of them, and of his earnest
desire to benefit them all. He had no other desire than to
cast in his lot with theu's, and to live and die among them.
But no real imion or confidence could bo maintained between
them, while the matter of support was liable at any moment
to become a som-ce of discomfort and misunderstanduig to all
concerned. He added, that as so many were present, perhaps
no better time than to-night could be found for arranguig the
matter, and so he left them.

' i

114

JANET a LOVE AND BF.RVICE.

There was quite a gathering that night. Judge Merle was
there, and the deacons, and the Pages, and Mr. Spears, and
a great many besides. Behind the door, in a comer seat, sat
Mr. Snow, and near him, Mr. Greenleaf. He evidently felt
he was not expected to remain, and made a movement to go,
but Sampson laid his hand on his arm.

" Hold on, S(iuii'e," he whispered ; " as like as not tliey 'd
spare us, but I 'm bound to see this through."

There was a long pause. Then Deacon Fish got up and
cleared his throat, and " felt as though ho felt," and went
over much gi'ound, without accomphshing much. Deacon
Slowcome did pretty much the same. Judge Merle came a
little nearer the mark, and when he sat down, there was a
movement behind the door, and Sampson Snow rose and
stepped out. He laid his hand on the door latch, and then
turned round and opened his lips.

" I expect you '11 all think it ain't my place to speak in
meetin', and I ain't goin' to say a great deal. It 's no more
than two houf s or so since I got home from Eixford, and
Squire Stone, he told me that their minister had given notice
that he was goin' to quit. Gom' to Boston, I guess. And
the Squire, says he to me, ' We 've a notion of talking a little
to your "Mr. Elliott,' and says he, 'We wouldn't begrudge
him a thousand dollars cash down, and no mistake.' So now
don't worry any about the minister. He 's all right, and
worth his pay any day. That 's all I 've got to say," and Mr.
Snow opened the door and walked out.

Sampson's speech was short, but it was the speech of the
evening, and told. That night, or within a few days, arrange-
ments were made for the carrying out of the plan suggested
by IMr. Elliott, with this difference, that the seventh part was
not to be deducted because of money payment. And the
good people of MerleviUe did not regret their promptitude,
when the very' next week there came a dej)utation from Rix-
ford, to ascertain whether JVIr. Elliott was to remain in Merle-
viUe, and if not, whether he would accept an invitation to
settle in the larger town.

Janet's love and service.

115

Mr. Elliott's answer was brief and decided. Ho had no
wish to leave Merlcville while the people wished him tore-
main. He hoped never to leave them while he lived. And
he never did.

i «

CHAPTER XIII.

^ PRING came and went. The lads distinguished them-
^^^ solves both ft)!* the quantity and quality of their sugar,
and highly enjoyed the work besides. The free out-of-door
life, the camping in the woods beside a blazmg fire, and the
company of the village lads who daily and nightly crowded
around them, charincd them from all other pursuits. Mr.
Foster and his mathematics were sadly neglected in these
days. In future they were to devote themselves to agricul-
tm-e.

In vam Janet hinted that " new tilings aye pleased light
heads," and warned them that they were deciding too soon.
In vain Mr. Snow said that it was not sugaring time all the
year; and that they should smnmer and winter among the
hills before they committed themselves to a farmer's life.
Hany quoted Cincinnatus, and Norman proved to his own
satisfaction, if not to Mr. Snow's, that on scientific principles
every fann in MerlevHle could be cultivated with half the ex-
pense, and double the jorofits. Even their father was carried
away by theu' enthusiasm; and it is to be feared, that if he
had had a fortune to invest, it would have been bmied for
ever among these beautiful hills of Merleville.

An opportunity to test the strength of the lads' determina-
tion, came m a manner wliich involved less risk than a purchase
would have done. Early in May a letter was received from
Mr. Ross, in which he offered to take the charge of Arthur's
education on himself, and as he was well able to do §o, Mr.
Elliott saw no reason for refusing the oflfer. The money,
therefore, that he had set apart for his son's use, returned to
(116)

Janet's lovk and service.

• 117

his hands, and he did a wiser thing than to invest it either in
mountain or valley.

It came, about this time, to the worst, with Mrs. Jones and
her daughter Celcstia. Tlie mortgage on the farm could not
be paid, even the interest had fallen far belund, and Sciuiro
Skmflint had foreclosed. Nothing remained for the widow,
but to save what she could from the wreck of a properly tliat
ha<l once been large, and go away to seek a new home for her-
self and hor children. On the homestead she was about to
leave, the heart and eyes of Mr. Snow had long been fixed.
As a relation of the widow, he had done what could be done,
both by advice and assistance, to avert the evil day; but the
widow was no farmer, and her boys were children, and the
longer she kept the place, the more she must uivolve herself;
and now, that the land must pass from her hands, Sampson
would fain have it pass into his. But the only condition of
sale was fo ready money, and this without great sacrifice ho
could not obtain. Meanwhile, othci's were considering the
matter of the purchase, and the time was short; for there had
been some failure in Squire Skinflint's Western land specula-
tion, and money must be had. If the widow could have held
it still, Mr. Snow would never have desu-ed to have the land ;
but what with the many thoughts he had given to it, and
the fear of getting bad neighbors, he had about come to the
conclusion that it was not worth while to farm at all, unless
he could have the two fanns put into one.

Just at this juncture, the minister surprised him greatly
by asking his advice about the investment of the money
wliich his brother-in-law's generosity had placed at his dis-
posal. A very few words settled the matter. Tlie minister
lent the money fo Mr. Snow, and for the annual interest of
the same, he was to have the use of the farm-house and the
ten acres of meadow and pasture land, that lay between it and
the pond. The arrangement was in all respects advantageous
to both parties, and before May was out, the little brown
house behind the elms, was left in silence, to await the
coming of the next chance tenants; and the pleasiu'able ex-

>i ^^

118.

JANKT S LOVE AND SKRVICE.

citcmont of settling down iu their now home, filled the minds
of Jiinet and the bairns.

And a very pleasant home it promised to bo. Even in that
beautiful land of mountain and valley they would have sought
in vain for a lovelier spot. Sheltered by liigh hills from the
bleak winds of the north and east, it was Gtill siifiiciently
elevated to permit a wide view of the farms and forests around
it. Close below, ^\dtl^ only a short, steep bank, and a wide
stri]) of meadow land between, lay Merle pond, the very love-
liest of the many lovely lakelets, hidden away among these
momitains. Over on the rising ground beyond the pond stood
the meetinghouse, and scattered to the right and left of it were
the white houses of the village, half hidden by the tall elms
and maples that fringed the village street. Close by the
farmhouse, between it and the thic-k pine grove on the hill, ran
Carson's brook, a stream which chd not disappear in suunner-
timc, as a good many of those hill streams are aj^t to do,
and which, for several months in the jear, was ahnost as
worthy of the name of river as the Merle itself. Before the
house was a large grassy yard, having many rose bushes and
lilac ti'eos scattered along the fences and the path that led
to the door. There were shade trees, too. Once they had
stood in regular lines along the road, and round the largo
garden. Some of these had been injured because of the hi-
sufficient fences of late years; buu those that remained were
trees worthy of the name of trees. There wore elms whose
branches nearly touched each other, fi'om ojiposite sides of
the wide yard; and great maples that grew as symmetrically
in the open space, as though each spring they had been clip-
ped and cared for by experienced hands. There had been
locusts, once; but the old trees had mostly died, and there
were only a few yomig ones springing up here and there, but
they were trees before the cliilch'on went away from the place
which they were now beginning to look upon as home.

Formerly, there had been a large and handsome garden
laid out at the end of the house, but since trouble had come
on the family, its cultivation had been cousidered too much

JANETS LOVK AND SKIiVICE.

119

expense, and the f^-ass was f^rowin^ frrcon on its squares ard
borders now. There were a few perennials easy to cultivate;
and amiuals such as sow themselves, marigolds and ]>ansies.
There was balm in abundance, and two or three j^nj^autic
peonies, in their season the admiration of all passers by; and
beds of useful herbs, wormwood and sage, and sununer
savory. But, though it looked like a wilderness of weeds the
the first day they came to sec it, Janet's quick eye foresaw a
great deal of j^leasure and profit wliich might be got for the
bairns out of the garden, and, as usual, Janet saw clearly.

There was a cliancte to find fault with the house, if anyone
had at this time been inclined to find fault with anytliing.
It was largo and pleasant, l^ut it was sadly out of repair.
Much of it had been little used of late, and looked di-eary
enough in its dismantled state. But all this was chaaged
after a while, and they settled down v(xrv happily in it, with-
out thinking about any defect it might have, and these dis-
appeared in time.

For, by and by, all necessary- repairs were made by their
provident landlord's own hands. He had no mind to pay
out money for what he could do himself ; and many a wet
afternoon did lie and his hu*cd man devote to the replacing
of sliingles, the nailing on of clapboards, to puttying, paint-
ing, and other matters of the same kind. A good landlord
he was, and a kind neighbor, too ; and when the many ad-
vantages of theu' new home were being told over l^y the
chikircn, tho living so near to 'Mr. Snow and little Emily
was never left till the last.

A V(!ry pleasant summer thus began to them all. It
would be dilii(;ult to say which of tiiem all enjoyed their new
life thj most. But Janet's prophecy came true. The )irinv'i^fi
of farmnig proved to be its chief charm to the lads ; and if
it hail been left entirely to them to plant and sow, and care
for, and gather in tlio harvest, it is to bo feared there would
not have been much to show for the summer's work. But their
father, who was by no means inexperienced in agricultural
matters, had the success of thcii' farming experiment much

120

Janet's love and service,

■1

at heart, and with his advice and the frequent expostulations
and assistance of Mr. Snow, affaii's were conducted on their
httle farm on the whole prosperously.

Not that the lads grew tu*ed of exerting themselves.
There was not a lazy bone in then* bodies, Mr. Snow de-
clared, and no one had a better opportunity of knowing than
he. But their strength and energy were not exerted always
in a dh'eclion that would pay, according to Mr. Snow's idea
of remuneration. Much time and labor were expended on
the building of a biiJge over Carson's brook, between the
house and Pine Grove Hill, and much more to the making
of a waterfall above it. Even Mr. Snow, who was a long
time in coming to comprehend why thoy should take so much
trouble with what was no good but to look at, was canied
awa}' by the spirit of the affaii* at last, and lent liis oxen,
and used his crowbar in their cause, conveying gi'cat stones
to the spot. When the bridge and the waterfall were com-
pleted, a path was to be made round the hill, to the pine
grove at the top. Then, among the pines, there was a
wonderful structure of rocks and stones, covered with mossPT
and oreepmg plants. The Grotto, the children called it, Mr.
,Snow called it the Cave. A wonderful place it was, and
much did they enjoy it To be sure, it would not hold them
all at once, but the gi'ove would, and the grotto looked best
on the outside, and much pleasure did they get out of their
labors.

The lads did not deserve all the credit of these great
works. The gMs helped, not only with approving eyes and
lips, but with expert hands as well. Even Graeme grew
rosy and sunburnt by being out of doors so much on bright
mornings and evenmgs, and if it had been always summer
time, there might have been some danger that even Graeme
would not very soon have cor>ie back to the quiet indoor
enjoyment of work and study again.

As for Janet, her homesiclmess must have been left m the
little brown house behind the elms, for it never troubled her
after she came up the brae. With the undisputed possession

JANKTS LOVE AXD SERVICE.

121

ti
s
a,
1

of poultry, pigs and cows, came back her energy and peace
of mind. The lirst basket of eggs collected by the children,
the first chmniing of golden butter which she was able to
disi)lay to their admiring gaze, were worth their weight in
gold as helps to her returning cheerfalness. Not that she
valued her dumb friends for their usefulness alone, or even
for the comforts they brought to the household. She had a
natural love for all dependent creatures, and petted and pro
vided for her favorites, till they learned to know and love
her m retui*n. All helpless creatiu'es seemed to come to her
natm-ally. A dog, which had been cruelly beaten by his
master, took refage with her ; and being fed and caressed by
her hand, could never be induced to leave her guardianship
again. The very' bees, at swanning time, did not sting
Janet, though they lighted in clouds on her snowy cap and
neckerchief ; and the little brown spaiTows came to share
with the chickens the crumbs she scattered at the door.
And so, hens and chickens, and httle brown span'ows did
much to win her from a rcgi-etful remembrance of the pr.st,
and to reconcile her to what was strange — "unco like' in
her new home.

Her cows were, perhaps, her prime favorites. Not tint
she would aclaiowledge them at all equal to "Flcckie" or
" Blackie," now, probably, the favorites of another mistr. .sn
on the other side of the sea. But "Brindle and Spottie w/ro
wise-like beasts, with mair sense and discretion than sorao
folk that she could name," and many a child in Merlevillo
got less care, than she bestowed on them. Morjiing and
night, and, to the surprise of all the farmers' wives in jMerle-
villo, at noon too, when the days were long she milked them
witli her own hands, and made more and better butter from
the two, than oven old INIrs. Snow, who prided herself on
her abilities in these matters, made from any three on her
pasture. And when in the fall Mr. Snow went to Boston
with the produce of his mother's dairy, and his own farm, a
large tub of Janet's butter went too, for which was to be
brought back " tea worth the drinking, and at a reasouablo
6

122

JANETS L<»VK AM) HKUVICK.

':!

price," anil otlior iliiiij^a besides, wliioli iifc IVTcrlcvillo and at
Meiievillo prices, could not bo easily obtained.

Tlio Indian summer had como aj^-ain. Its mysterious hazo
and hush were tni all tlihi^^'S under the ojkmi hIvv, and '.viMun
the house all Avas quiet, too. The minister was in thv.( study,
and the bnmis were in the pine f^^rove, or by the Nvater side,
or even farther away ; for no sound of souf^ or lan<ifhtor
came from these familiar places. Janet sat at the open door,
feeling a little dreary, as she was rather a])t to do, when left
for hours togi.'thcr alone by the bairns. Besides, there v/as
something in the mild air and in the quiet of the afternoon,
that " 'n)inded" her of the time a year ago, when the bainis,
havuig all gone to the kirk on thiit iirtit Sabbatli-day, she had
"ncargrat herself bli)i," from utter despairing homesickness.
She could now, in her restored p(\ace and iirnm(\ss, alibrd to
to feel a little contemptuous of her former self, yet a sense
of sadiiess crept over Iter, at the memory of the time, a slight
pang of the old malady stirred at her heart. Even now, she
was not quite sure that it would be prudent to indulge hersc^lf
in thoughts of the old times, lest tlie wintry days, so fast
hastening, miglit bring back the old gloom. So she was not
sorry when the sound of footsteps broke the stillness, and
she was pleased, for quite other reasons, when Mr. Snow
appeared at the open door. He did not accept her invita-
tion to enter, but seated himself on the doorstep.

" Your folks are all gone, arc they ? " askc^l he.

" The minister is in his study, and Miss ( iraeme and the
bairns are out by, some way or other. Your Emily's with
them."

" Yes, I reckoned so. I 've just got home from Rixford.
It would n't amount to nnich, all I c;iuld do to-night, so I
thought I'd como along up a spell."

Janet repeated her kindly welcome.

" The minister's bug}'' I presume," said he.

" Yes, — as it s Saturday, — but he winna bo busy verj''
long now. If you '11 bide a moment, he 'U bo out I daresay."

" There 's no hurry. It 's nothing particular."

^Bf

JANET 3 LOVK AND 8EUVTCE.

123

But INIr. Snow was not in his usntil spirits evidently, and
watcliin;^ liijii st:':iltliily, Janet saw a careworn anxious cxprcf-i-
sion fasteninf' on his iisnallv cheerful face.

" Are you no' wcel the nij^'ht '?" she asked.

" Sartain. I never was sick hi my life."

"And l]ow arc they all down-by V" meaning at ]Mr. Snow's
hous(>, by " down-V)y."

" Well, pretty nnieli so. Only just middling. Nothing
to brag of, in the way of smai*tnoss."

Th(!re was a long sHencc after that. Mr. Snow sat with
ft)ld(Hl arms, looking out on the scene bcsforo Ihem.

" It 's kind o' i)leasant hero, ain't it ?" said he, at last.

" Ay," said Jjinet, softly, not caring to disturb his mus-
ings. Ho sat still, looking over his own broad fields, not
thhiking of them as his, however, not calculating the exjienso
of the new saw-mill, with whi(;li he had been tlireatcning to
disfigure Carson's broolc, just at tlic point where its waters
fell into the pond. He was looking far away to the distant
hills, where the dim haze was deepening into pur],)le, hiding
the moui/am tops beyond. But it could not be hills, nor
haze, nor hitlden mountam tops, that had brought that wist-
ful longuig look into his eyes, Janet thought, and between
doubt as to what she ought to say, and doubt as to wLetlicr
she should say anything at all, she was for a long time silent.
At last, a tho Light struck her.

" What f(jr wasna you at the Lord's table, on the Sabbath-
day V" asked she.

Sampson gave her a queer look, and a short, amused laugh.

" Well, I guess oiu* folks- would ha' opened their eyes, if I
had undertook to go there."

Janet looked at him, in some sui-priso.

" And what for no ? I ken there are others o' the folk, that
let strifes and divisions hinder them from doing their duty,
and sitting down together. Though wherefore, the hko of
these things should liinder them from remembering their
Lord, is more than I can imderstand. What hac you been
doing, or what has somcl)ody been d(^ing to you ?"

124

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

;

Tliorc was a pause, and then Sampson looked up and said,
gi'avcly.

" jMis' Nasmyth, I ain't a professor. I 'ni one of the world's
peoi)lo Deacon Fish tells about."

Janet looked grave.

" Come now. Mis' Nasmyth, you don't mean to say you
thought I was one of the good ones ?"

"You ought to be," said she, gravely.

" Well, — yes, I suppose I ought to. But after all, I guess
there am't a great sight of difference between folks, — least-
w^ays, between Merle ville folks. I know all about them. I
was the first white child bom in the town, I was raised here,
and in some way or other, I 'm related to most folks in town,
and I ought to know them all pretty well by this time. Ex-
cept on Sundays, I expect they re all pretty much so. It
would n't do to tell round, but there are some of the world's
people, that I 'd full as lief do business with, as with most of
the professors. Now that 's a fact."

*• You 're no' far wrong fhcrt^ I daresay," said Janet, with
emphasis. " But that 's neither here nor there, as far as your
duty is concerned, as you weel ken."

" No, — I don't know as it is. But it kind o' makes me
feel, as though there wasn't much in religion, anyway."

Janet looked mystified. Mr. Snow continued.

" Well now, see here, I '11 tell you just how it is. There
ain't one of them that don't tliink I 'm a sinner of the worst
kind — gospel hardened. They 've about given me up, I
know they have. WeU now, let alone the talk, I don't be-
hove there 's a mite of difference,»between me, and the most
of them, and the Lord knows I 'm bad enough. And so you
see, I 'vc about come to the conclusion, that if there is such a
thing as religion, I have n't never come across the real ar-
ticle."

"Tliat's hke enough," said Janet, with a groan. "I can-
na say that I have seen muckle o' it myself in this town,
out of our own house. But I canna see that that need be
any excuse to you. You have aye the word."

\
to

.TANETVS LOVE AND BKRVICK.

125

" Well, yes. I 've always had the Bible, and I *ve read it
considerable, but I never seem to get the hang of it, some-
how. And it ain't because I ain't tried, either. There w^as
one spell that I was drcadfid down, and says I to myself, if
there 's comfort to be got out of that old book, I 'm bound to
have it. So I began at the beginni^ig about the creation, and
Adam and Eve, but I didn't seem to get much comfort
there. There was some good readuig, but along over a
piece, there was a deal that I could see notliing to. Some of
the Psalms seemed to kind o' touch the si)ot, and the
Proverbs are first-rate. I tell you he knew something of
human nature, that wrote them."

" There 's one thing you might have learned, before you
got far over in Genesis," said Mrs. Nasmyth, gravely, " that
you are a condemned sinner. You should have settled that
matter with yourself, before you began to look for com-
fort."

'* Yes, I knew that before, but I could n't seem to make it
go. Tlien I thought, maybe I did n't understand it iTght, so
I talked with folks and went to meeting, and did the best I
could, tlmiking surely what other folks had got, and I
had n't, would come sometime. But it did n't. The talking
and the gomg to meeting, did n't help me.

" Now there 's Deacon Sterne, he 'd put it right to me.
He 'd say, says he, ' Sampson, you 're a sinner, you know
you be. You 've got to give up, and bow that stiff neck o'
your 'n to the yoke.' Well, I 'd say, * I 'd be glad to, if I
only laiew how to.' Then he 'd say, ' But you can't do it
yourself, no how. You 're clay in the hands of the potter,
and you '11 have to perish, if the Lord don't take right hold
to save you.' Then says I, 'I wish to mercy He would.'
Then he 'd talk and talk, but it all came to about that. * I
must, and I could n't,' and it did n't help me a mite.

" That was a spell ago, after Captain Jennings, folks, went
West. I wanted to go awfully, but father he was getting
old, and mother she wouldn't hear a word of it. I was
awful discontented, and then, after a spell, worse came, and

120

JANKt's love and SEItVICE.

I tell you, I'd ha given most anything,. to have got religion,
just to have had something to hold on to."

Mi\ Snow paused. There was no doubting his earnest-
ness now. Janet did not speak, and in a little while he ■went
on again.

"I 'd give considerable, just to be sure there 's anything in
getting rehgion. Sometimes I seem to see that there is, and
then again I think, why don't it help folks more. Now,
there 's Deacon Sterne, he 's one of the best of them. He
■would n't swerve a hair, from what he believed to be right,
not to save a limb. He is one of the real old Puiitau
sort, not a mite hkc Fish and Slowcome. But he ain't one
of the meek and lowly, I can tell you. And he 's made some
awful mistakes in his life-time. He 's been awful hard and
strict in his family. His fii-st chikben got along pretty well.
Most of them were guis, and their mother was a smart
woman, and stood between them and their father's hardness.
And besides, in those days when the country was new, folks
had to work hard, old and 3'oung, and that did considerable
towards keeping things straight. But his boys never thought
of then- father, but to fear him. They both went, as soon as
ever they were of age. Silas came home afterwards, and
died. Joshua went West, and I don't beheve his father has
heard a word fi'om him, these fifteen years. The ghls scat-
tered after their mother died, and then the deacon married
again, Abby Sheldon, a pretty girl, and a good one ; but she
never ought to have married him. She was not made of
tough enough stuft^ to wear along side of him. She has
changed into a grave and silent woman, in his house. Her
children all died when they were babies, except William, the
eldest, — willful Will., they call him, and I don't know but he 'd
have better died too, for as sui'e as the deacon don't change his
course with him, he '11 drive him ^ight straight to ruin, and
break his mother's heart to boot. Now, what I want to
know is — if rehgion is the powerful thing it is called, why
don't it keep folks that have it, from making such mistakes
in life?"

.TAXl'/r's LOVE AND SEUVICK

127

Janet did not have her answer at her tongue's end, and
SiluipHoii did not i^ivo Lcr time to consider.

"Now there's Becky Pettimore, she's got religion, but it
don't keep her from being as sour as vinegar, and as bitter
as gaU— "

'' Whisf, man !" interrupted Janet. " It ill becomes the
like o' you to speak that way of a poor lone woman like yon —
one who never knew what it was to have a home, but who
has been kept down wdth hard work and little sympathy, and
many another trial. She 's a worthy woman, and her deeds
prove it, for all her sourness. There 's few women in the
to\m that I respect as I do her."

" Well, that 's so. I know it. I Imow she gets a dollar a
week the year round at Captain Liseome's, and earns it, too ;
and I know she gives half of it to her aunt, who never did
much for her but spoil her temper. But it 's an awful pity
her reh<^ion don't make her pleasant."

" One nuistiia judge another," said Mrs. Nasmyth, gently.

" No, and I don't want to. Only I wish — but there 's no
good talking. Still I must say it 's a pity that folks who have
got religion don't take more comfort out of it. Now there 's
mother ; she 's a pillar in the church, and a good woman, I
believe, but she's dreadful crank sometimes, and worries
about things as she had n't ought to. Now it seems to me,
if I had all they say a Ciiristian has, and expects to have, I 'd
let the rest go. They don't half of them live as if they took
more comfort than I do, and there arc spells when I don't
take much."'

Janet's eyes glistened with sj-mpathy. There was some
siu-prisc in them, too. Mr. Snow continued —

" Yes, I do get pretty sick of it all by spells. After father
died — and other things — I got over caring about going out
West, and I thought it as good to settle down on the old
place as any where. So I fixed up, and built, and got the
land into prime order, and made an orchard, a first-rate one,
and made believe happy. And I don't know but I should
have staid so, only I heard that Joe Arnold had died out

waissmm

128

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

*?' I

West — ho had married Rachel Jennings,' you know ; so I got
kind of unsettled again, and went ofl' at last. Rachel had
changed considerable. She had seen trouble, and had poor
health, and was kind o' run down, but I brought her right
home — ^her and httle Emily. Well — it didn't suit mother.
I had n't said anything to her when I went off. I had n't
anything to say, not knowing how things might bo with Ra-
chel. Come to get home, things did n't go smooth. Mother
worried, and Rachel worried, and life was n't what I expected
it was going to be, and I worried for a spell. And IVIis' Nas-
myth, if there had been any such thing as getting rehgion, I
should have got it then, for I tried hard, and I wanted some-
thing to help me bad enough. There did n't seem to be any-
thing else worth caring about any way.

" Well, that was a spell ago. Emily was n't but three years
old when I brought them home. We 've lived along, taking
some comfort, as much as folks in general, I reckon. I had
got kind of ased to it, and had given up expecting much, and
took right hold to make property, and have a good time, and
here is your minister has come and stirred me up and made
me as discontented with myself and everything else as well."

" You should thank the Lord for that," intermpted Janet,
devoutly.

" Well, I don't know about that. Sometimes when he has
been speaking, I seem to see that there is something better
than just to live along and make property. But then again,
I don't see but it 's just what folks do who have got reUgion,
Most of the professors that I know — "

"Man!" exclaimed Janet, hotly, "I hae no patience with
you and your professors. What need you aye to cast them
up ? Canna you read your Bible ? It 's that, and the bless-
ing that was never yet ^vithheld from any one that asked it
with humihty, that wiU put you in the way to find abiding
peace, and an abiding portion at the last."

"Just so, IVIis' Nasmyth," said Mr. Snow, deprecatingly,
and there was a little of the old twinkle in his eye. " But it
does seem as though one miglit naturally expect a httle -help

JANETS LOVE AND SEIiVICE.

129

from them that are spoken of as the lights of the world ; now
don't it?"

" There 's no denying that, but if you must look about you,
you needna surely fix your eyes on such crooked sticks as
yoiu- Fishes and yoiu* Slowcomes. It 's no breach o' charity
to say that tJicij dinna adom the doctrine. But thei*e are
other folk that I could name, that are both light and salt on
the earth."

"Well, yes," admitted Sampson; "since I've seen your
folks, I 've about got cured of one thing. I see now there is
something in religion with some folks. Your minister be-
lieves as he says, and has a good time, too. He 's a good
man."

" You may say that, and you would say it with more em-
phasis if you had seen him as I have seen him for the last
two twelve-months wading tlu-ough deep waters."

" Yes, I expect he 's just about what he ought to be. But
then, if religion only changes folks in one case, and fails in
ten—"

"Man ! it never fails !" exclaimed Janet, with kindling eye.
" It never failed yet, and never wiU fail while the heavens en-
dure. And lad ! take heed to yom'self. That *s Satan's net
spread out to catch your unwary soul. It may serve your
turn now to jeer at professors, as you call them, and at their
misdeeds that are unhappily no' few ; but there 's a time
coming when it will fail you. It will do to tell the like of
me, but it winna do to tell the Lord in * that day.' You have
a stumbling block in your own proud heart that hinders you
more than all the Fishes and Slowcomes o' them, and you
may be angry or no' as you like at me for telling you."

Sampson opened his eyes.

" But you don't seem to see the thing just as it is exactly.
I ain't jeering at professors or their misdeeds, I 'm grievmg
for myself. If religion ain't changed them, how can I expect
that it will change me ; and I need changing bad enough, as
you say."

** If it hasna changed them, they have none of it," said Mrs.
6*

-F-^"

130

Janet's love and service.

1 1

=:i'

Nasmy til, oamcstly. " A CliriHtian, and no' a cbanj^ccl riian 1
Is ho no' a nloepinp^ man awakened, a dead man made alive —
bom a,'^ain to a new life ? Has ho not the Spirit of ( lod
abiding? in him ? And no' changed ! No' that I wish to
jndgo any man," added fiho, more gently. " We dinna ken
other folk's temptations, or how small a spark of grace in
the heart will save a man. We have all reason to be thank-
ful that it 's the Lord and no* man that is to bo oui* judge.
Maybe I have been over hard on those men."

Here was a wondc.r! Mrs. Nasmyth confessing herself to
have been hard upon the deacons. Sampson did not speak
his thcnghts, however. Ho was more moved by his fiicnd'a
earnestness than he cared to show.

" Well, I expect there 's something in it, whether I ever
see it with my own eyes or not," said he, as he rose to go.

" Ay, is there," said Mrs. Nasmyth, heartily ; " and there 'a
no fear but you '11 see it, when you ivsk in a right spiiit that
your eyes may be opened."

" Mis* Nasmyth," said ??ampson, quietly and solemnly, "I
may be deceiving myself in this matter. I seem to get kind
o' bewildered at times over these things. But I do think I
am in earnest. Suix'ly I '11 get help some time ?"

"Ay — that you will, as God is true. But oh man ! go
straight to Him. It 's between you and Him, this matter.
But winna you bide still ? I daresay the minister will soon
be at leisure now."

•' I guess not. I had n't much j)articular to say to him. I
can just as well come again." And without turning his face
toward her, he went away.

Janet looked after him till the turn of the road hid him,
saying to herself,

*' If the Lord would but take him in Land, just to show
what He could make of him. Somctijlng to His praise, I
hae no doubt — Yankee though he be. God forgive me for
sayuig it. I daresay I hae nae all the charity I might hae
for them, the upsettin' bodies."

■^

CHAPTER XIV.

EVEN in qniot comitiy pLiocH, there are changes many
and viiriod wron/^ht by the ('(Miiuig and Roinj^' of seven
ycai'H, and IMurluville has had its share of these since the
time the minister's children looked upon the pleasant place
with the v/onderinf» eyes of stranj^ers. Standinjjf on the
church-steps, one looks down on the same still haujlet, and
over the same hills and valleys and nestling faini-hoases.
But the woods have receded in some places, and up from the
right comes the sound of clashing machinery, telling that
the ]Merle river is performing its mission at last, sotting in
motion saws and haunners and spmdles, but in so unpretend-
ing a manner that no miniature city has sprung up on its
banks as yet ; and long may that day bo distant.

The trees in the grave-yard cast a deeper shadow, and the
white grave-stones seem to stand a Httlc closer tlian of old.
The tall, rank grass has many times been trodden by the
lingering feet oi the funeral-train, and fi'csli sods laid down
al)ove many a heart at rest forever. Voices beloved, and
voices little heeded, have grown silent duiing th(se seven
years. Some have died and have been forgotten ; some liavo
left a blank behind them which twice seven years shall have
no power to fill.

The people have changed somewhat, some for the better,
some for the worse. Judge Merle has gi'own older. His
hair could not be whiter than it was seven years ago, liut he
is bent now, and never forgets his stalf as he takes his daily
walk down the village street ; but on liis kintdy face rests a
look of peace, deeper and more abiding than there used to
be. His kind and gentle wife is kind and gentle still. She,

(i:n.)

132

jankt's lovk

AND SKKVlCl':

too, gi'ows old, with a briglitcninef I'nco, as tliongh each pass-
ing day were bringing her nearer to her hope's fulfillment.

If Deacon Sterne is growing older ; his outward man gives
no token thereof. His hair has been iron-grey, at least since
anybody in Merleville can remember, and it is iron-grey still.
He looks as if seven times seven years conld have no power
to make his tall form less erect, or to soften the lines on his
dark, grave face. And yet I am not sure. They say his face
is changing, and that sometimes in the old meeting-house on
Sabbath afternoons there has come a look over it as though
a bright Hght fell on it fi'om above. It comes at other times,
too. His patient wife, pretenduig to look another way as he
bends over the cradle of his willful William's httle son, yet
turns stealthily to watch for the coming of the tender smile
she has so seldom seen on her husband's face since the row
of little graves was made m the church-yard long ago. By
the deacon's fireside sits a pale, gentle woman, Will.'s bride
that was, Will's soiTOwing Avidt)w now. But though the
grave has closed over him, whom liis stem father loved better
than aU the world beside, there was hope in his death, and
the mourner is not micomforted ; and for the deacon there
are happier days in store than time has brought him yet.

Deacon Slowcome has gone West, but, " yearning for the
privileges he left behind," or not successful in his gaiiis-
gettmg, is about to return. Deacon Fish has gone West and
has prospered. Content in his heart to put the wondeiful
wheat crops in place of school and meeting, he yet deplores
aloud, and m d(jlcful terms enough, the want of these, and
never ends a letter to a Merleville crony without an earnest
adjuration to " come over and help us." But, on the whole,
it is believed t!iat, in his heart, Deacon Fish will not repine
while the grain grows aiid the markets pn^sj^er.

]VIi'. Page is growing rich, they say, which is a change m-
deed. His nephew, Timothj', havhig invented a wonderful
mowing or reaping-machine, Mr. Pago has taken out a patent
for the same, and is gi'owing rich. Mrs. Page enjoys it well,
and goes often to Rixford, where she has her gowns and

i«.v f'r

jankt's love and service.

133

bonnets made now ; and patronizes yoimj^ INIrs. Morlc and
yomig Mrs. Grecnleaf, and does her duty generally very much
to hor o^^n satisfaction, never hearing the wliispcrcd doubts
of her old fi'iends — Avhich are audible enough, too — wliother
she is as consistent as she ought to be, and whether, on the
whole, her new prosperity is promoting her gi'owth in grace.

Becky Pcttimore has got a home of her own, and feels as
if she knows how to enjoy it. And so she does, if to enjoy
it means to pick her own geese, and spin her own wool, and
set her face lilce a flint against the admission of a speck of
du't withui her o\\ti four walls. But it is wliispered among
some people, wine in these matters, that there is something
going to happen in Beckj's home, which may, sometime or
other, mar its perfect neatness, without, however, man-ing
Becky's enjoyment of it. It may be so, for hidden away in
the corner of (me of her many presses, is a little pillow of
down, upon which no mortal head has ever rested, and which
no eyes but Becky's own have ever set>n ; an<l they till with
w(mder and tondeniess whenever they fall upon it ; and so
there is a chance that she may yet have more of homo's
enjoyments than geese or wool .)r dustless rooms can give.

Behind the elms, where the old brown house stood, stands
now a snow-white cottage, with a vine-covered porch before
it. It is neat without and neat within, though often th(M-o
are children's toys and little shoes upon the floor. At this
moment iiwrc, is on the floor a row of chairs overturned, to
mak(>, not horses and carriages as they used to do in my
young days, but a train of cars, and on one of them sits
Arthur ]*]lIiott (Ireenleaf, representing at once engine, whistle,
conductor and freight. And no bad rc^presentalive either,
as far as noise is concerned, and a wonderful baby that must
be who sleeps hi the cradle through it all. Beside tiie win-
dow, inirufiled amid tlie U[)roar, sits Celestia ith her needle
in her hand — a little paler, a little thinner tha\i she used to
DC, and a little cave-worn withal. For Celestia is " ambitious,"
in good housewife plnusc, and there arc many in MerleviUo
and beyond it who like to visit at her Avell-ordered homo.

134

JANET ri LOVE AND SERVICE.

Tho squire's newspaper nestles as peacefully amid the din
as it used to do in the solitude of his little ottice seven years
ago. He is thinner, too, and older, and more care-Avorn, and
there is a look in his face sup,'<:festivc of " appeals " and knotty
points of law ; and by the wrinkles on liis brow and at the
corners of his eyes, one might fancy he is looking out f o ' the
Capitol and the White House in the dis^'ince still. "j.le is
growing old while ho is yoimg," as Ivirs. Nasmyth says,
"Yankees have a nack of doing — standing still r.t middle
age and never changing more." But despite tlie Amnldes,
the squire's face is a pleasant one to see, and he has a way
of turning Ijack a paragraph or two to read the choice bits
to Celestia, wliich proves chat ho is not altogether absorbed
in law or pohtics, but that he enjoys all he has, and all he
hopes to be, the more that he has Celestia to enjoy it with
him.

As for her, seven years have failed to convince her that
Mr. Grecnlcaf is not the gentlest, wisest, best in all the
world. And as her opinion has survived an attack of dys-
pepsia, which for montlis held the squire in a giant's gripe,
and tho horrors of a contested election, in which the squire
was beaten, it is to bo supposed it will last through life. At
this very monicnt h(>r heart tills to the brim Vv'ith love and
wonder as he draws his cliair a little nearer and says :

" See, here, Celestia. Listen to what Daniel "Webster says,"
and then goes on to read.

" Now, Avliat do you think of that?" he asks, with spark-
ling eyes. Her's are sparkling too, and she thinks just as he
does, you may be sure, whatever that may be. Nt)t that she
has a very clear idea of what has been read, as how could
she amid nishing engines and raih'oad whistles, and tho
energetic announcement of the conductor that " the cars
have got to Boston."

" See here, KlHott, my son. Ain't you tired riding ?" asks
papa, gently.

" Ain't you afi'aid you '11 wake sister ? " says mamma. *' I
would n't make quite so much noise, dear."

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

135

long

Carlo !
time.

"Why, mother, I 'm the cars," says Elliott.

"But hadn't vou better pfo out mto the varcl?
Where 's Carlo ? I have u't seen Carlo for a
Where 's Carlo ? "

It is evident Solomon is not in the confidence of these good
people. Moral suasion is the order of the day. They often
talk veiy wisely to each other, about the training of thcu' chil-
drcU; and gravely disciiss the prescriptions given long ago, for
the curing of erils which come into the world with us all. They
would fain persuade themselves that there is not so much
need for them in the present enlightened ago. They do not
quite succeed, however, and fully intend to commence the
training process soon. Celestia, especially, has some misgiv-
ings, ar: she looks into the face of her bold, beautiful boy,
but she shrinks from the thought of severe measm'cs, and
hopes that it will all come out right with him, without the
wise king's medicine ; and if mother's love and unfailing
patience will bring things out right, there need bo no fear for
little EUiott.

It is a happy home, the Greenlcaf 's. There are case and
comfort without lux ny ; there is necessity for exertion, with-
out fear of want. There are manj' good and pretty things in
the house, for use and ornament. There arc pictures, books
and magazuies in plenty, and everything within and without,
goes to prove the truth of Mr. Snow's declaration, that " the
Greenleafs take their comfort as the}' go along."'

But no change has come to aiij'ouo in Merleville, so gi'eat
as the change that has come to Mr. Snow himself. Death
has been in his dwelUng once — twice. His wife and his
mother have both foimd rest, the one from her weary wait-
iiig, the other from her cares. The house to which Sampson
returns with lagging footsteps, is more sil(>nt than over now.

]3ufc a chani'.c greater than death can make, had come to
Sampson lir.st, preparing him for all changes. It came to
him as the sighu of rushing water comes to the traveller who
has been long mocked with the sound of it. It came, cleans-
ing Trom his hcai-t and fi'om his life the dust and dinuiesa

186

JANKTri LOVK AND .SKRVICl-:.

ih^

of the world's petty cares, and vain pursuits. It foimd him
weary of gaias-j,'ctting, weary of toiling and moiling amid the
dross of earth for that Avhich coiJd not satisfy, and it gave
him for his own, the pearl which is above all price. Weaiy
of tossing to and fi'o, it gave him a sure resting-place, "a
refuge whercmnto he may continually resort," a pea(^e that is
abiding. With its commg the darkness passed away, and
light to che(!r and guide was his for evermore. Behind the
closed blinds of his deserted house, he was not alone. The
promise, made good to so many in all ages, was made good
to luin.

" He that loveth Me shall be loved of My Father, and We
will come and make our abode with him."

That wonderi "1 change has come to him, which the world
would fain denj f^'" ^.hange which so many profess to have
experienced, but v ; so ievr manifest in their hves. He
has learned of the " uiceK and lowly." He is a Cluistian at
last. He has "experienced religion," the neighbors say,
looking on with varied feelmgs to see what the end may
be.

Sampson Snow never did anything like anybody else, it
was said. He " stood it " through " a season of interest,"
when Deacons Fish and Slowcome had thought it best to call
in the aid of the neighboiing ministers, to hold " a series of
meetings." Good, prudent men these ministers were, and
not much harm was done, and some good. Some were
gathered into the Church from the world ; some falling back
were restored ; some weak ones were strengthened ; some
sorrowmg ones comfoi'ted. And through all, the interested
attention of Mr. Snow never flagged. He attended all the
meetings, listened patiently to the warnings of Deacon Fish,
and the entreaties of Deacon Slowcome. He heard him-
self told by Mr. Page that he was on dangerous ground,
"within a few rods of the line of demarcation." He was
formally given up as a hojieless case, and " left to himself "
by all the tender-hearted old ladies in Merleville, and never
left the stand of a spectator through it all. Then when

JANET 8 LOVE AND SEKVICK.

137

Deacons Fish and Slowcome, and all Mcrlevillc with them,
settled down into the old gloom attain, his visits to the minis-
ter became more frequent, and more satisfactory, it seemed,
for in a httle time, to the surprise of all, it was aimonnccd in
due form, that Sampson Snow desired to be admitted into
fellowship with the Church of Merlcville,

After that time his foes watched for his halting in vain.
Ditferent from other folks before, he was dificrent from them
still. He did not seem to think his duty for the week was
done, when he had gone twice to meeting on the day time,
and had spoken at conference on the Sunday evening. In-
deed, it must be confessed, that he was rather remiss \vith re-
gard to the latter duty. He did not soem to have the gift of
speech on those occasions. He did not seem to have the
power of advising or warning, or even of comforting, his
neighbors. His gift la}' in helping them.

" Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these,
My brethren, ye have done it unto Me," were words that
Sampson seemed to beheve.

" He dors folks a good turn, as though he would a little
rather do it than not," said the widow Lovejoy, and no one
had a better right to know.

As for the poor, weak, nervous Rachel, who could only
show her love for her husband, by casting all the burden of
her troubles, real and imaginaiy, upon him, she could hardly
love and trust him more tho,n she had always done, but he
had a gi'eator power of comforting her now, and soon the
peace that reigned in his heart influenced her's a little, and
as the years went on, she grew content, at last, to bear the
burdens (Jod had laid upon her, and being made content to
live and suffer on, God took her biu'den fi'om her and laid
her to rest, where never biuxlen presses more.

If his mother had ever really l^elieved that no part of her
son's happiness was made by his peevish, sickly wife, she
must have acknowledged her mistake when jioor Rachel was
borne away forever. She must have known it by the long
hours spent in her silent room, by the lingering step with

138

JAlxETS I.OVE AND SEKVICE.

I'liii

v.'liicli lio left it, by the tenderness lavished ou cvciy trifle she
had ever cared for.

"Sampson soeiiiod kind o' lost," she said; and her motherly
heart, with all its worldliness, 4iad a spot in it whit-h ached
for her son in his desolation. She tlid not even be^rudj^e his
turning- to Emily with a tender love. She found it ui her
heart to rejoice that the 'j,\ii had power to comfort him as she
could not. And little Emily, ^-rowing every day more like the
jiretty llachcl who had taken captive poor Sampson's youthful
fancy, did what earnest love could do to comfort him.

But no seKishness mmgled with her stepfather's love for
Ihuily. It cost him much to decide to send her from him for
a while, but he did decide to do so. For he could not but see
that Emily's happiness was little cared for by his mother, even
yet. She could not now, as in the old time, take refuf^e in
her mother's room. She was helpful about the house too,
and could not often be spared to her fi-Iends up the hill, or in
the village; for old Mrs. Snow, much as she hated to own it,
could no Ijngcr lo nil tilings with her own hands, as she
used to do. To be snve, she could have had helj) any day, or
every day in the year; but it was one of the old lady's
" notions" not to be able " to endure folks around her." And,
besides, " what was the use of Emily Arnold ? " And so,
■what with one thmg and another, little Emily's cheek began
to grow pale; and the willful gaze with which she used to
watch her fathers home-coming, came back to her eyes

again.

" There is no kind o' use for Emily's being kept at work,"
said her father. " She ain't strong ; and there 's Hannah
Lovejoy would bo glad to come and help, and I 'd be glad
to pay her for it. Emily maj-- have a good time as v\ell as
not."

But his mother was not to be moved.

" Girls used to have a good time and work too, when I was
young. Emily Arnold is strong enough, if folks would let her
alone, ...id not put notions in her head. And as for Hannah,
I '11 have none of her."

.TANI:T S I.OVK AND SEKVICi:.

139

So Mr. Snow saw that if Emily was to have a good time it
must bo else where; and ho made up his mind to the very
best thing he could have done for her. He littcd her out, and
sent her to Mt. Holyokc seminar}'; that school of schools for
earnest, ambitious New England gu'ls. And a good time she
had there, enjoying all that wrs pleasant, and never heeding
the rest. There were the iirst incvitabl ) pangs of homesick-
ness, nialdiiir her father doubt whether he had done best for
his darling after all. But, in a httle, her letters were merry
and healthful enough. One would never have found out
from them anything of the hardships of long stairs and the
fom-th story, or of extra work on recreation day. Pleasantly
and profitably her days passed, and before she returned homo
at the close of the year, Mrs. Sn(3W had gone, where the
household y\ovk is done without wearmess. Her father
would fain have kept her at homo then, but ho made no
objections to her return to school as she wished, and ho was
left to the silent mmistrations of Hannah Lovcjoy in the
deserted homo again.

By the unanimous voice of his brethren in the church, lie
was, on the departure of Deacons Fish and Slowcome, elected
to iJll the placo of one of them, and in his own way ho mag-
nified the ofiice. He was " lonesome, awful lonesome," at
home; but cheerfulness came back to him agaui, and there is
no one more gladly welcomed at; the minister's house, and at
many another house, than he.

T];.orc have been changes in the minister's household, too.
When his course in college was over, Arthur came out to tho
rest. He hngered one dcliglitful summer in Merleville, and
then betook liimsolf to Ctmada, to study his profession of the
law. For iVrthur, wise as the Merleville people came to think
him, was guilty of one great folly in their eye. He could
never, he said, be content to lose his nationality and become
a Yankee; so, for the sake of living in the (Queen's dominions
he went to Canada; a ])lace, in their esthuation, only ono
dcgi'ce more desirable as a place of residence than Greenland
or Kamtschatka.

140

JANKT S LOVE AND SIORVIC'K.

That was five years ago. Arthur has had something of a
struggle since then. By sometimes teaching dull boys Lai in,
sometimes acting as sub-editor for a daily paper, and at all
times living with gi'eat ec(momy, he has got ilu'ough his
studies without numing much in debt; and has entered his
profession with a fair prospect of success. He has visited
Merleville once since he went away, and his Avoeldy letter is
one of the greatest pleasures that his father and sisters have
to enjoy.

Norman and Hany have both left home, too. Mr. Snow did
his best to make a farmer first of the one and then of the other,
but he fjuled. To collogo they went in spite of poverty, and
having passed tlu'ongh honorably, they went out into the
world to shift for themselves. Norman writes hopefully from
the far West, lie is an eughieer, and will be a rich man one
day he confidently asserts, and his fiuends believe liim with
a ditference.

"He will make money enough," Janet says, "but as to his
keeping it, that 's another matter."

Harry went to Canada w ith the intention of following Ar-
thur's examjile and devoting himself to the law, but changed
liis mind, and is now in the merchant's counting-room; and
sends home presents of wonderful shawls and gowns to Janet
and his sisters, intending to impress them with the idea that
he is very' rich indeed.

Those loft at home, are content now to be without the
absent ones; knowing that they are doing well their share in
the world's work, and certain that whatever comes to them in
their wanderings, whether prosperity to elate, or adversity to
depress them, their first an(l fondest thought is, and ever
will be, of the loving and beloved ones at home.

CHAPTER XV.

THE Indian summer time was come a^am. Tlic gorgeous
glory of the autumn was gone, but so, for one day, at
least, was its droaiiness. There was no " wailing wind " com-
plaining among the bare boughs of the elms. The very
phies were silent. The yellow leaves, still lingering on the
beech-trees in the hollow, rustled, now and then, as the brown
nuts foU, one by one, on the brown leaves beneath. The
frosts,, sharp and frequent, had changed the torrent of a
month ago into a gentle rivulet, whose murmur could scarce
be heard as far as the gate over which Graeme Elliott leaned,
gazing dreamily upon the scene before her.

She was thinking how very lovely it was, and how very
dear it had become to her. Seen through " the smoky light,"
the purple hills beyond the water seemed not so far away
as usual. The glistening spire of the church on the hUl, and
the gleammg grave-stones, seemed strangely near. It looked
but a step over to the village, whose white houses were quite
visible among the leafless trees, and many farm-houses, which
one could never see in summer for the green leaves, were
peepmg out everywhere from between the hills.

" There is no place like Merleville," Graeme thinks in her
heai-t. It is home to them all now. There were few but
pleasant associations connected with the hills, and gi'oves,
and homesteads over which she was gazing. It came very
\4vidly to her mind, as she stood there looking down, how
she had stood with the bairns that first Sabbath morning
on the steps of the old meeting-house ; and she strove to
recall her feeling of shyness and wonder at all that she saw,
and smiled to think how the faces tiuned to them so

(Ul)

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

ciirioufjly tliat day wcro boromo fiimiliar now, and somo of
ilumi vei'v dear. Yes ; Mcrksvillo v,-as lionio to (iraorno. Not
that shu had f()r<n)tt('n the old homo beyond the sea. But
the tliou^dit of it cauio with no painful lonj^inj^. Even the
meniory of her mother brought now re<^-ct, indeed, and sor-
row, but none of the lon(?hness and miscrj' of the Inst days
of loss, for the last few years had been very hajipy years to
them aU.

And yet, as Graeme stood gazing over to the hills and the
village, a troubled, vexed look came over her face, and, with
a gesture of impatience, she turned away fi'om it all and
walked up and doAvn among the withered leaves outside the
gate with an impatient tread. Something troubled her with
an angiy trouble that she could not forget ; and though she
laughed a httle, too, as she muttered to herself, it was not a
pleasant laugh, and the vexed look soon came back again, in-
deed, it never went away.

"It is quite absurd," she murmured, as she camo within
the gate, and then turned and loaned over it. " I won't bo-
Hevo it; and yet — oh, dear! what shall we ever do if it
happens ? "

" It 's kind o' pleasant here, ain't it ? " said a voice behind
her. Graeme started more violently than tliero was any
occasion for. It was only jMi". Snow \<]io had been in the
study with her father for the last houi', and who was now on
his way home. Graeme scarcely answered him, but stood
watching him, with the troubled look deepening on her face,
as he went slowly do^^'n the road.

]}<Ir. Snow had changed a good deal witliin these few years.
He had g}.'own a gi-eat deal gi'eyer and graver, and Graeme
thought, with a httle pang of remorse, as she saw him dis-
appear round the turn of the road, that she had, by her cold-
ness, made him all the graver. And yet she only half re-
gi'etted it ; and the vexed look camo loack to her face again,
as she gathered up her work that had fallen to the gi'ound
and turned toward the house.

I'hero was no one m the usual sitting-room, no one in tho

JANET S I,OVK AND i-KIiVTCE.

143

bright Ivitelicn Ijcyoiid, nnd, fpm^ to tlio foot of tlio stair?!,
Graeme raises bcr voice, Avliifli has an echo of iuipatieiu'(> in
it stiD, and calls
" ]Mrs. Xasinyth."'

For Janet is oftener called Mrs. Xasmyth than the old
name, even bj- the bairns now, except at such Liinos as some
v.-()iulerfiil iiieco of coaxing- is to bo done, and then she is
Janet, the bami's own Janet still. There was no coaxing
echo m Graeme's voice, however, but she tried to chase the
vexed shadow from her face as her fiicud came slowlv down
the stall's.

"Are you not going' to sit down?" asked Graeme, as she
seated herself on a low stool by the vvmdov,'. "I wonder
where the bairns are ? "

" The bairns are gone down the brae," said :Mrs. Nasmyth ;
" and I 'm just going to sit down to my seam a v.-eo while."

• But she seemed in no huny to sit down, and Graeme sat
silent for a kittle, as she moved quietly about the room.

"Janet," said she, at last, " v.-hat brings D(!acon Snow so
often up here of late ? "

Janet's back was toward Graeme, and, without tiu-ning
round, she answered :

" I dinna ken that he 's oftener here than he used to bo.
He never staid long- away. Ho was ben the house with the
mmister. I didna see hhn." There was another pause.

" Janet," said Graeme agam, " vdiat do you tlmik Mrs.
Greenleaf told me aU Merleville is saying ?"

Janet expressed no cuiiosity.

"They say Deacon Snovr wants to take you down tho
brae."

Still Mrs. Nasmyth made no answer.

"He hasna ventm'od to liint such a thing?" exclaimed
Graeme inteiTogatively.

"No' to me," said Janet, quietly, "but the min.: I\'.l-."

" The minister ! He 'a no' blate ! To tliink t)f hun holdmg
up his face to my father and proposing the hko of that ! And
what did my father say ?"

144

JANKTS I.OVK AND SERVICE.

ii'ii

" I fTiniia kon what ho, said to him ; but to me ho said he
was well pleased that it should be so, and "

" Janet !" Graeme's voice expressed consternation as well
as indignation. Mrs. Nasmyth took no notice, bnt seated
herself to her stockinfi^-damiu'^.

" Janet ! If you tliink of such a thinj? for a moment, I
declare I '11 take second thoughts and go away myself."

" Weel, I aye thought you might have done as wcel to con-
sider a wee 'afore you gave IVIr. Foster his answer," said
Janet, not heeding Graeme's impatient answer.

" Janet ! A sticket minister !"

" My dear, he 's no' a sticket minister. He passed his ex-
aminations with great credit to himself. You hae your
father's word for that, who w^as there to hear him. And he 's
a grand scholar — that 's weel kent ; and though he majaia
hae the gift o' tongues like some folk, he may do a gi'eat deal
of good in the world notwithstanthng. And they say he has
gotten the charge of a fine school now, and is weel off. I
aye thought you might do worse than go with liim. He 's a
good lad, and you would have had a comfortable home with
him."

" Thank you. But when I mari-y it won't be to get a com-
fortable home. I 'm content with the home I have."

" Ay, if you could be sure of keeping it," said Janet, with
a sigh ; " but a good man and a good home does not come
as an oflfer ilka day."

" The deacon needna be feared to leave his case in your
bands, it seems," said Graeme, laughing, but not pleasantly.

"IVIiss Graeme, my dear," said Mrs. Nasmyth, gravely,
" there 's many a thing to be said of that matter ; but it
must be said in a diiferent spirit from what you are manifest-
ing just now. If I 'm worth the keeping here, I 'm worth
the seeking elsewhere, and Deacon Snow has as good a right
as another."

" Right, indeed ! Nobody has any right to you but our-
selves. You are our's, and we '11 never, never let you go."

" It 's no' far down the brae," said Janet, gently.

.TAN1;T rf LOVE AXD SKUVICK.

ii:

" Jaiift ! You '11 never tbiiik of goinj? ! Surely, sur(>l_v,
you '11 never leiive us iKJW, And for ii stranger, too! When
you gave up your own niother and Sandy, and the land you
loved so well, to conio liero with us! — " (iraomo could not
g().()n for the tears that would not bo kept back.

" Miss (iraenio, my dear baira, you were ncedinj^ nio then.
Nae, liac patience, and let nio speak. You aro not needing
mo now in the same way. I sometimes tlnnk it would be far
better for you if I wasna here."

Graeme dissented earnestly by look and gesture, but she
had no words.

" It 's true though, m}' dear. You can hardly say that
you arc at the head of yom* father's house, wlule I manage all
thmgs, as I do."

But Graeme had no desire to have it otherwise.

" You can manage far best," said she.

" That 's no to be denied," said Mrs. Nasmyth, gravely ;
"but it ought not to be so. IMiss Graeme, you are no' to
think that I am talcing upon myseK to reprove you. But
do you think that yom* ju'escnt Ufo is the best to lit you f( »r
the duties and responsibilities that, sooner or later, come tj
the most of folk in the world? It's a pleasant life, I ken,
with your books and yoiu* mu'^ic, and your fine seam, aiul
the teaching o' the baims ; but it canna last ; and, ray dear,
is it making you ready for what may follow ? It wouldna ! )0
so eas}' for you if I were away, but it might l)o far better for
you in the end."

There was nothing Graeme could answer to this, so she
leaned her head upon her hand, and looked out on the
Ijrown leaves lying beneath the elms.

" And if I should go," continued Janet, "and there 's many
an if between me and going — but if I should go, I '11 be
near at hand in time of need "

*' I loiow I am very useless," broke in Graeme. " I don't
care for these things as I ought — I have left you with too
many cares, and I don't wonder that you want to go away."

" AMiist, lassie. I never yet !iad too nuich to do for yoiu'
7

140

JAXKTrf I,OVK AND BKRVICE.

mother's bairns : aiul if vou liavo done little it 's l)ccaiif;o
you liavcna needed. And if I could aye stand between you
and the biu'dens of life, vou necdua fear tnnible. But I
cauna. Miss (Jraome, my dear, you AY(;re a livinj^ child in
your mother's arms before she A\as far past yoiu' w/fi, njid
your brother v^sih before you. Think of the cares she had,
and how she met them."

Graeme's liead fell lovrer, as she repeated lier tearful con-
fession of uselessucss, and for a tunc there was silence.

" And, dear," said Janet, in a little, " your fatlicr tells
me that Air. Snow has offered to send for my motlK>r and
Sandy. And oh ! my b.iirn, my heart leaps in my bosom
at the thouf^ht of seeinjx their faces again." She had no
power to add more.

" But, Janet, your mother thought herself too old to
cross the sea when wo came, and that is seven years ago."

"My dear, she kenned she couhhia coitie, and it was as
well to put that face on it. But she would gladly come
now, if I had a home to give her."

There was silence for a while, and tlicn Graeme said,

" It 's seHish in me, I know, but, oh ! Janet, we have been
so happy lately, and I canua bear to think of changes com-
ing,"

Mrs. Nasniyth made no answer, for the sound of the bamis'
voices came i}i at the open dooi", and in a minute Marian
entered.

" Where have you been, dear ? I fear j-ou have wearied
yourself," said Janet, tenderly.

" We have onlj' been down at ]\Ir. Snow s bam watching
the Ihreshhig. But, indecLl, I have wearied mysdf." And
sitting down on the floor at Janet's feet, she laid her head
upon her lap. A kind, hard hand was laid on the bright
hair of *' the bonniest of a' the bairns."

•' You mustna sit down hero, my dear. Lie down on iho
sofa and resu yourself till the tea be re.uly. Have you ialion
your bottle to-day V "

Marian macio hev face the very picture of disgust.

•f^'

Janet's love and service.

147

" Oh ! Jiinct, I 'm better now, I diiina need ii Give it
1,0 Clracnio. She locjks as if kIic needed somctLing to do licr
good. AVliat ails you, Oraemo?"

"My dear," rcraonytrated Janet, "rise up uhen I bid yon,
and po to the sofa, and I '11 f:^o up the stair for the bottle."

IMarian laid herself wearily down. In a moment Mrs.
Nasinyth reappeared with a bottle and s])oon *n one hand,
and a pillow in the other, and when the bitter drauj^ht was
fairly swallowed, IMarian was laid down and covered and
caressed with a tenderness that stniek CJraemo as stran{,'e ;
for thouf,'l\ Janet loved them all well, she was not in the
habit of showiuf? lua- tenderness by caresses. lu a little,
Marian slejjt. Janet did not resume her work immediately,
but sat j^'azinrj at her with eyes as full of wistful tenderness
as ever a mother's coulu have been. At length, wi<,h a sigh,
she turned to her basket again.

" Miss (Jraeme," said slie, in a littl(>, " I diiuia like to liear
you speak that way about changes, as though they did not
come fi'om Clod, and as though He hadna a right to send
them to His peo[)le wlien He pleases."

" I canna help it, Janet. No change that can come to us
can be for the belter."

" That 's true, but we must even expect changes that aro
for the worse ; for just as sure as wo settle down in this
world content, changes will come. You mind what the AVord
says, ' As an eagle stirreth up her nest.' And you may bo
sm-e, if we aro among the Lord's children. He '11 no leave us
to make a portion of the rest and peace that the world gives.
He is kinder to us than wo would l)e to ourselves."

A restless movement of the sleeper by her side, arrested
Janet's words, and the old look of wistful tenderness
came back uito her eyes as she turned toward her. ( lra(;me
rose, and leaning over the arm of the sofa, kissed her softly.

"How lovely she is! " whispered she.

A crimson flush was rising on Marian's checks as she slept.

" Ay, she was aye bonny," said Janet, in the same hjw
voice " aud she looks like an angel now."

«■■■

148

JANETS LOVE AXD SI:RVK:E.

Gracmo stood gazing at licr sister, nnd in a little Janet
Hpoke again.

" ]\Iiss Graeme, jon canna mind your aunt Marian ? "

No, Graeme could not.

"Menio is gi'owing very like her, I think. She was
bonnier than your mother even, and she kept her beauty to
the very last. You ken the family wercna well pleased when
your mother married, and the sisters didna meet often till
Miss Marian gi'ew ill. They would fain have had her away
to Italy, or some far awu' place, but nothing would content
her but just lior sister, her sister, and so she came home to
the manse. That was just after I came V.ck again, after
Sandy was weaned ; and kind she was to me, the bonny,
gentle creature that she was.

" Fo); a time she seemed better, and looked so blooming —
except whiios, and aye so bonny, that not one of them all
coulil believe that she was going to die. But one day she
came in from the garden, with a bonny moss-rose in her
hand — the first of the season — and she said to your mother
she wfis wearied, and lay down ; and in a wee while, wlicn
your mother spoke to her again, she had just strength to
say that she was going, and that she wasna feared, and that
was all. She never spoke again."

Janet paused to wipe the tears from her face.

*' She was good and bonny, and our Monie, the dear 1am-
mie, has been gi'owing very hke her this wliile. She 'minds
me on her now, with the long lashes lying over her cheeks.
Miss Marian's checks aye reddened that way when she slept.
Her hair wasna so dark as our Mcnic's, but it cui'led of itself,
like hers."

J\Ir.s. Nasmjth turned grave pitying ej'es toward Graeme,
as she ceased speaking. Graeme's heart gave a sudden pain-
ful throb, and she went vciy pale.

" Janet," said she, with dilliculty, " there is not much the
matter with my sister, is there ? It wusna that you meant
iibout changes ! Mcnie 's not going to die like oiu* bonny

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

149

Aunt Marian !" Her tones gi-cw slirill and incredulous as
sliG went on.

" I cannot tell. I dinna ken — sometimes I 'm feared to
think how it may end. But oh ! Miss Graeme — my darling — "

"But it is quite impossible — it can't be, Janet," broke in
Gr'ieme.

"God knows, dear." Janet said no more. The look on
Graeme's face showed that words would not help her to com-
prehend the trouble that seemed to be di'awing near. She
must bo loft to herself a while, and Janet watched her as she
went out over the fallen leaves, and over the bridge to the
pine grove beyond, with a longing pity that fain would have
borne her trouble for her. But she could not l)ear it for her
— she could not even help her to bear it. She could only
pray that whatever the end of tlieii* doubt for Marian might
bo, the elder sister might be made the better and the wiser
for the fear that had come to her to-day.

There are some sorrows which the heart refuses to realize
or acknowledge, even in knowing them to be drawing near.
Possible danger or death to one beloved is one of these ; and
as Graeme sat in the shadow of the pines shuddering with
the pam and terror which Janet's words had stirred, she was
saying it was impossible — it could not be true — it could never,
never be true, that her sister was going to die. She tried to
realize the possibility, but she could not. "When she tried
to pray that the terrible dread might be averted, and that
they might aU be taught to be submissive in God's hands,
whatever His wiU might be, the words would not come to
her. It was, " No, no ! no, no ! it cannot bo," that went up
through the stillness of the pines ; the cry of a heart not so
much rebellious as incredulous of the possibility of pain so
terrible. The darkness fell before she rose to go home again,
and when she came into the firelight to the soimd of hajipy
voices, Menie's the most mirthful of them all, her ton'ors
seemed utterly unreasonaljle, she felt hke one waking from a
painful dream.

150

JANirr S I<OVE AND SERVICE.

" What coiikl liavo made Janet frighten herself and me
so?" she said, as she spread out h(!r eoM hands to the l)hizc,
all th(! time watching her sister's hriglit face.

" Graeme, tea 's over. "Where have you been a,ll this time ?"
asked Rose.

" jVFy falhcr was aslimg where you were. He wants to see
you," said Will.

*' I'll go ben now," said Graeme, rising.

The study lamp was on the table tmlighted. The minister
was sittuig in the firelight alone. Ho did not move when the
door opened, until Graeme spoke.

" I 'm here, papa. Did you want mo ?"

" Graeme, come in and sit down. I have something to
say to you."

She sat down, but the minister did not seem in haste to
speak. Ho was looking troubled and anxious, Graenjo
thought : and it suddenly came into her mind as she sat
watching him, that her father was gi'owing an old man. In-
deed, the last seven years had not passed so lightly over him
as over the others. The hair which had been grey on his
temples Ijcforc he reached his prime, was silvery white now,
and he looked bowed and weary as ho sat there gazing into
the fire. It came mto Graeme's mind as she sat there in the
quiet room, that there might bo other and sadder changes
before them, than even the change that Janet's words had
implied.

"My dear," said the minister, at last, "has IVIrs. Nasmyth
been speaking to you ?"

" About — " IMenie, she would have asked, but her tongue
refused to utter the word.

" About ;Mr. Snow," said her father, with a smile, and some
liesitation. Gra(>me started. She had quite forgotten.

"IMrs. Greenleaf told mo something — and — "

" I beliovo it is a case of tnie love with lum, if si-'ch a thing
can come to a man after he is fifty — as indeed why should it
not ?" said the minister. " Ho seems ben '. on taking jMiet
from us, Graeme."

JANKT S I.oVi; AND SKItVICE.

151

"Papa! it hi too absiml," said Graeme, all her old vexation
coiniii.^- bade. Mr. Elliott sinil(;<l.

" I must coiiiess it wiiH in that li.i^'ht I ,saw it iirnt, and I had
Avcll ui^li Ijceii so nil reasonable as to be vexed with our good
friend. But we iimst take care, lest we allow^ our own wishes
to intei'ferc with what may be for Mrs. Nasmyth's advan-
tnne."

"But, papa, she has been content with lis all these years.
AVhy should there be a cliauf,'e now ?"

" If the change is to bo for her good, we must try to per-
suade her to it, however. But, judgmg from what .she said
to lue this afternoon, I fear it will be a difficult matter."

" But, pa])a, why should wo seek to persuade her against
her own judgment."

"My dear, we don't need to jicrsuadc her against her judg-
ment, but against her affection for us. She only fears that
we will miss her sadly, and she is not quite sure whether she
ought to go and leave us."

''But slie has been quite happy with us."

"Yes, love — happy in doing what she beheved to be her
duty — as happy as she couKl be so far sejiarated from those
whom she must love better than she loves us even. I have
been thinking of her to-night, Graeme. What a self-denying
life Janet's has been ! She must be considered first in this
matter."

" Yes, if it would make her happier — but it seems strange —
that—"

" (iracme, Mr. Snow is to send for her mother and her son.
I could see how her heart leapt up at the thought oi Keeing
them, and having them witli her again. It will be a great
happiness for her to provide a home fen* her mother in her
old age. And she ought to have that happiness after such
a life as hers."

Graeme sighed, and \\as silent.

" If we had golden guineas to bestow on her, where wc
have copper coins only, wc could never repay her love and
care for us all; and it will be a matter of thanlcfulncss to

ill
It

•?

152

JANET S LOVE AND SEIiVICE.

^'1

mo to Imow that she is secure in a home of her own for tho
r<'.st of her life."

" lint, i)apa, wliile we have a homo, she will never be with-
out one."

" I know, tleai', while we have a homo. You need not tell
me that ; but Graeme, there is only my frail life between you
and homelessness. Not that I fear for you. You are all
young and strong, and the God whom I have sought to servo,
will never leave my children. But Janet is growing old,
Graeme, and I do think this way has been providentially
opened to her."

" If it were quite right to marry for a homo, papa — :."
Graeme hesitated and colored. Her father smiled.

" Mrs. Na.smyth is not so young as you, my dear. She will
see things dilTereutly. And bcsid(^s, she always liked and
respected IVIr. Snow. I have no doubt she will be very happy
wth him."

"We all liked him," said Graeme, sighing. "But oh! I
dread changes. I can't bear to break up om* old ways."

" Graeme," said liei father, gravely, " changes must come,
and few changes can be for tho better, as far as we are con-
cerned. We have been very happy of late — so happy that
I fear we were in danger of sitting do^\Ti contented with tho
things of this life, and we need reminding. We may think
om'selvos happy if no sadder cliango than tliis comes to us."

The thought of IMcnie came back to Graeme, with a pang,
but she chd not speak.

" I Imow, dear," said her father, kindly, " this will como
hardest upon you. It will add gTcatly to your cares to have
jMrs. Nasmyth leave us, but you are not a child now, and — "

" Oh, papa ! it is not that — I mean it is not that altogether,
but — ." Graeme paused. She was not sure of her voice,
and she could not bear to gileve her father. In a little, she
asked.

"TVlicnisittobe?"

" I don't know, indeed, but soon, I suppose ; and my dear
child, I trust to j'ou to make smooth much that might other-

Janet's lovk and seuvice. 153

wise be not agreeable in this matter to us aU. Tlie chano-o
you clread so much, wiU not be very great. Our kind friciul
IS not gomg very far away, and there wiU bo pleasant thinn-g
connected with the change. I have no doubt it will be for
the best."

"Shall I hght your lamp, papa," said Graeme, in a little

"No, love, not yet. I have no mind for my book to-ni^ht "
Graeme stirred the fire, and moved about the room a httle
When she opened the door, the sound of the children's voices
came m mei-rily, and she shrunk from going out mto the
iiglit. ho she sat down in her accustomed place by the win-
dow and thought, and hstened to the sighs, that told her that
ner latJier was busy with anxious thoughts, too.

"Only my frail hfe between my chilcken and homelessness "
he had said. It seemed to Graeme, as she sat there in the
darkness, that since the mommg, everything in the world had
changed. They had been so at rest, and so happv, and now
I seemed to her, that they could never settle cLvn to the
old quiet life again.

«.l'/'« w T^ '^^^'^^^ "P ^"" ^^•^*'" «^^ "i^'mured to her-
self. " WeU, I ought no' to feai' the changes He brmgs -1
But, oh! I am afraid." ^

I i

ii i<

CHAPTER. XVI.

THE rest of the bairns received ilic tidings of the change
that Avas going to take place among thcni, in a veiy
diffi.'rent way from Graeme. Their asttmishment at the idea
of Janet's mamago was great, but it did not equal their de-
light. (Iraeme was in the minority decidedly, and had to
keep quiet. But then Janet was in the minority, too, and
Mr. Snow's suit was anythmg but prosperous for some time.
Indeed, he scarcely ventured to show his face at tlie minis-
ter's house, Mrs. Nasmyth was so c\Tldently out of sorts, anx-
ious and unhappy. Her uuhappiness was manifested by
silence chiefly, but the silent way she had of ignoring Samp-
son and his claims, discouraging all approach to the subject,
that lay so near the good deacon's heart, was worse to bear
than open rebuff would have been ; and wliile Mrs. Nasmyth's
silence gi'ieved Mr. Snow, the elaborate patience of his man-
ner, his evident taking for gi-anted that " she would get over
it," that '* it would all come right m the end," were more than
she could sometimes jiuiticntly endm'c.

*' He 's hke the lave o' them," said she to Graeme one day,
after having closed the door, on his departure, with more
haste than was at all necessary. " Give a man an inch, and
he 'U take an ell. Because I didna just set my face against
the whole matter, when the minister lirst spt)ke aboiit it, he 's
neither to hold nor bind, but * when will it be ? ' and ' when
will it be?' till I have no peace of my life with hun."

Graeme could not help laughing at her excitement.

" But, when will it be ? " asked she.

" My dear, I 'm no sm*e that it will ever be."

" Janet ! " exclaimed Graeme. " What has happened ? '*
(154;

jani:t s i.ove and service.

155

"Nothinpf haf? happened ; but I 'ra no' sm'c but I ought to
have ]Mit a stop to the matter at the very fir.st. I diiina wcel
ken what to do."

"Janef," said (Jraenio, spcaldng with some cnibarrassnicnt,

" my fatiier thinks it ri^dit, and it does not seem ho so

strange as it did at lirst — and yon should speak to Mr. Snow
about it, at any rate."

"To jnit hiin out o' pain," said Janet, smihng giiinly.
" There 's no fear o' Inm. Bat I '11 speak to him this very night."

And so she did, and that so kindly, that the deacon, taking
heart, pleaded his own cause, with strong hopes of success.
But Janet would not suil'er herself to bo entreated. "With
tearful c\oh, she ^ 1 him of her fears for INIarian, and said,
"It would seem like forsaking the bairns in theu' trouble, to
leave them now." jMr. Snow's kind heart was niu(^h shocked
at the tlKJUght of Maiian's danger. She had been liis favor-
ite among the bairns, and Emily's chief fi-iend fi'om the very
first, and he could not lu'ge her going away, now that there
was so sorrowful a reason for her stay.

"So you'll just tell the minister there is to be no more
said about it. Pie winna ask any cpiestions, I dare say."

But hi this Janet was mistaken. He did ask a great many
questions, and failing to obtain satisfactory answers, took the
matter into his own hands, and named an early day for the
niamage. In vain Janet protested and held back. Ho said
Bhe had Ijoen tliinking of others all her hfe, till she had for-
gotten how to think of lu!rsc>lf, and needed some tnie to think
and decide for her. As to ^Marian's illness beh)g an excuse,
it was quite the reverse. If she was afraid ]Marian would not
be Avell cared for at home, she might take her down the brae ;
indeed, he feared there was some danger that he Avould be
forsaken of aU his children Avhen she went away. And then
he tried to thank her for her care of his motherless bairns,
and i-rojco down into a silence more eloquent than words.

"And, my dear friend," said he, after a little, "I shall
feel, when I am to be taken away, I shall not leave my chil-
dren desolate, while thev have you to care for them."

15G

JANET B LOVE AND SERVICE.

So for Mi's. Nasmytli there waM no lielj). But on one
thing she was doterraiuGcl. The day might be fixctl, but it
must be sufficiently distant to permit the coming home of the
lads, if they could come. They might come or not, as it
pleased them, but invited they must bo. She would fain see
tliem all at home again, and that for a better rcascm than she
gave the minister. To Mr. Snow, who doubted whether
" them l)oys " woidd care to come so far at such expense, she
gave it with a sadder face than he had ever seen her wear.

"If they are not all together soon, thoy may never be to-
gether on earth again ; and it is far better that they should
come home, and have a few bhthe days to mind on after-
ward, than that their first home-coming should be to a home
with the shadow of death upon it. They must bo asked, any
way."

And so they w jre written to, and in due time there came a
letter, saying that both Harrj' and Arthur would be home for
a week at the time appointed. From Norman there came no
letter, but one night, while they were wondering whj^ Nor-
man came himself. His first greeting to Janet was in words
of grave expostulation, that she should think of forsaking her
*' bakns " after all these years ; but when be saw how grave
her face became, he took it all back, and declared that he had
been expectmg it all along, and only wondered that matters
had not been brought to a crisis much sooner. He rejoiced
Ml'. Snow's heart, first by his hearty congi'atulations, and
then by his awfid threats of Vv^ngeance if Mrs. Snow was not
henceforth the happiest woman m Merleville.

Nomian was greatly changed by his two years' Absence,
more than either of his brothers, the sisters thought. Arthur
was just the same as ever, though he was nn advocate and
a man of business; and Harry was a boy with a smooth cliin
and red cheeks, still. But, with Norman's brown, bearded
face the girls had to make new acquaintance.

But, though changed in appearance, it was in appearance
only. Norman was the same mirth-loving lad as ever. He
was frank and truthful, too, if he was still thoughtless ; and

jaxkt's love and service.

[57

Graeme told herself many a time, with in-ido and thankful-
ness, that as yet, the world had not chan^^cd for the worse,
tlie brother for whom she had dreaded its temptations most
of all.

Nonnan's letters had always been longest and mof^t fi'c-
qiient; and yet, it was ho who had the most to tell. If his
active and exposed life as an engineer at the "West had any-
thing impleasant in it, this was ktjpt ont of sight at home, and
his tidventiires never wearied the children. His " once npon
a time" was the signal for silence and attention among the
little ones; ant! even the older ones listened with interest to
Nonnan's rambhng stories. Kor did their iuterest cease
when the sparkle in Norman's eye told that his part m the
tale was ended; and the adventures of an imaginary hero
begun.

There was one story which they were never th'ed of hearing.
It needed none of Norman's imaginarv horrors to chase the
blood fi'om the cheeks of his sisters, when it was told. It
was the story of the burning steamboat, and how little Hilda
Bremer had been saved fi'om it; the only one out of a faniily
of eight. Father, mother, brothers, dll perished together; and
she was left alone in a sti'ango land, with nothing to keep
her from despair but the kind words of strang^ers, uttered in a
tongue that she could not understand. It would, perhaps,
have been wiser in Nonnan to have given her \xp to the land
people who had kno\NTi her parents in their own land; but ho
had saved the child's life, and when she climg to liim ui her
sorrow, calling him dear names in her own tongue, he could
not bear to send her away.

" These people were poor, and had many children of their
own," said Norman. " I would have thought it a hard lot for
Menie or Rosie to go with them; and when she begged to
stay with me, I could not send her with them. If it had not
been so far, I would have sent her to you, Graeme. But as
I could n't do that, I kept her with me while I stayed in C.
and there I sent her to school. They say she bids fair to be
a learned lady some day."

158

.lAXKTS LoVK AM) SIlKVrCK.

Tliis was fill item of iinws tlmt Nonnan's lot tors had not
coiiv('V(>(l. Tlwvoiilvlvucw that ho hail Haviul Hihhi from tho
liuniiiij^' boat, and tliat ho had boon kind to her aftor-
uai'ds.

"JJiit Norman, man, tho oxjunisi^ ! " said tho ])nidont Mrs.
Nasmytli, "you havoiia siu'cly run yourself in di-btV" Nor-
man, lan,!.;h(HL

•' No; but it has boon t^oso shaving somotimoa. Howovor,
it would havo boon that anyway. I am afraid I havo not. the
faculty for kooi)hig monoy, and I might havo spont it to worse
purposo."

'And is tho little^ tiling gi*at(^ful?" aslcod Graomo.
' Oh! yi>s; I supposo so. She is a good litth; thing, and is
always glad to soo nw in hor quiet way."

"It 's a pity sho 's no' bonny," said ^Marian.

"Oh! sho is bonny in (Jorman fasluon; fair and fat."

"How old is sho ? " asked INlrs. Nasmyth.

Norman, oonsiderod.

" Well, I roally can't say. Judging by hor inches, I should
say about liosie's ago. But sho is wise enough and old-
fashiimod enough to be liosie's gTandmothor. She 's a
queer little thing."

"Tell us nuny," said Hose; "do you go to see lier often?"

"As often as I can. She is ver}' quiet; she was tho oidy
girl among tho eight, and a womanly httle thing cvtni tlion.
You should hear h(>r talk about hor little business matters.
My dear ]\Irs. Nasmyth, you need not bo afraid of my being
exti-avagant, with such a careful little woman to call mo to
account.

"' I havo a gi'oat mhid to send her homo to you in the
spring, Oraomo. It seems very sad for a child like her to be
growhig up A\ ith no other Innno but a school. Sho seems
happy enough, howovoi." "And would she like to come?"

"She says she would n't; but, of course, she would lilce
if she wore once here. I must see about it in the spring

The wedding-day camo, and in spite of many efforts to j "o-
vent it, it was rather a sad day to them all. It found Janet

JANi:i H I.OVrC AND SKRVICK.

159

still " in a Hwithor." Slio could not divest herself of the idea
that slio -sviis forsaldii<j^ "the buiniH."

"And, Oil! MisH (Iraenie, my dear, if it wercna for the
thouf,'ht of seeinj^ my mother and Sandy, my heart would
fail me quite. And arc you (^uite sure that you are pleast'd
now, dear V "

"Janet, it ^vas because I was selfish that I wasna pleased
from the vciy first; and you arc not really going away from
lis, only just down tlu; brae."

Graeme did not look very glad, however. But if the wed-
ding-day was rather sad, Thanlvsgiving-day, that soon f(jllowed,
was far otherwise. It \\as si)ent at the Dr'acon's. IMiss
Lovejoy distinguishiid luirsclf forever 1)y her (ihicken-pies and
fixings. ]Mr. and ]Mrs. Snow surpassed themselves as liost
and host(>ss; and even the muiist(!r Avas merry with tlic rest.
Emily Avas at home for the occasion; and though at fii-st she
had been at a loss how to take the cliangc, IMcnic's dehght
decided her, and she was delighted, too.

They gi'cw quiet in the evenuig but not sad Seated
around the fire in the parlor, the young people spoke much
of the time of their coming to ]M( rleville. And then, they
went fui'ther back, and spoke about their old home, and their
mother, and their long voj'agc on the " Steadfast."

"I wonder what has become of Allan Iluthven," said
Marian. " It 'a strange that you have never seen him,
Ai-thur."

" I may have seen him twenty times without knowing him.
You mind, I was not on the ' Steadfast' with j'ou."

"But Hany saw liim; and, surely, he could not have
changed so much but that he would knoAv him now if he saw
him."

"And do you know no one of the name?" asked Graeme.

" I have heard of several Ruthvens in Canada West. And
the house of Elpliistone and Gilchrist have a Western agent
of that name. Do you know anything about him Hany ?
Who knows but he may be i'l^ian Ruthvcn of the * Stead-
fast.'"

JL...aUIMII

160

JANKT8 LOVi: AND SKIlVICi:.

I!! li*.

k \

I' I

"No, I thouirlit lio laij^ht be, ;nul insulo in(|uincs," said
IlaiTv. '"lint thai Ilutlivc'u set'ius qiiito an old f{);^iu. Ho
Las boon in tUo c'inj>loy!iu.'iit of that linn over since the Hood,
— :'.t least, a long time. Do 3011 mind Allan llutbven,
Mcnie ?"

" ?dind him !" That she did. Menic wan very quiet to-night,
— sayuig little, but listening happily as she lay on the sofa,
with her head on C»raeme's knee.

" .Vllan ^\as the lirst one I heard say om* IMcnic was a
beauty," said N»)rmaii. " ]Menio, do you nund ?"

IMenie laughed. " I'cs, I muid."

'' But I think Kosie was his pet. Graeme, don't you mind
how he used to walk up and down the deck, with Rosio in
his arms ?"

" But that wa.s to rest Graeme," said Harry. " Miss JRosio
was a small tyraat in those days."

Rosie shook her head at liim.

" Eh ! wasna she a cankered faiiy ?" said Norman, taking
Rosie's fair face betwciii his hands. *' Graeme had enough
ado with von, I can tell vou."

'* And with yon, too. Never heed,him, Rosie," said Graeme,
smiling at her darling.

*' I used to adniu'e Graeme's patience on the * Steadfast,' "
said Harry.

" 1 did that before the days of the ' Stcatlfast,' " said Ai'thur.

Rosie pouted her pretty lips.

" I must have been au awful creature."

" Oh ! awful," said Norman.

" A spt)ilt bau'n, if over there was one," said HaiTy. " I
think I see you hiding yoiu* face, and refusing to look at
any of us."

" I never thought Graeme could make anvthing of vou,"
said Norman.

" Graeme has though," said the ilder sister, laughing. " I
wouldna give my bonny Scottish Rose, for all your western
lilies. Noruian."

And so they went on, jestingly.

JANKT S LOVE AND SERVICK.

IGl

" Mcnic," sakl Aiiluir, sudtloiily, " what do you roo in
the fire?"

Moiiic Avtis gazing with darkening eyes, in among the red
embers. She started when her l>r()thcr spc^ko.

" I see — Oh ! many things. I see our old garden at
homo, — in Clayton, I m(>an — and "

" It must bo an imngmary garden, iL^n. I am sure you
canna mind that."

"Mind it! indeed I do. I see it as plainly as possible,
just as it used to be. Only somehow, the spring and sum-
mer flowers all seem to be in bloom together. I see the lilies
and the daisies, and the tall white rosebushes blossoming to
the veiy top."

" A.nd the ]>rt>;id gi'een walk," said Harry.

" And tlie summer house."

"And tlio hawthorn hedge,"

" And the lir trees, dark and high."

" iVnd (he two api)le trees."

" Yes, — the tree of life, and the tree of the knowledge of
good and evil, I used to think them," said Norman.

" And I, too," said Menie. " AV'hcnevcr I thmk of the gar-
den of Eden, I fancy it like our garden at home."

" Your imagination is not very bnlliant, if you can't got
beyond tliat for Paradise," said Arthur, laughing.

" Well, maybe not, but I always do thhik of it so. Oh I
it was a bonny place. I wish I could see it again."

" "Well, you nnist bo ready to go homo with me, in a year
or two," said Norman. " You needna laugh, (iraeme, I am
going home as soon as I get rich."

" In a year or two! yon 'ro nae bl'it(; !"

'•Oh! we whma need a great fortune, to go home fen* a
visit. We'll come back again. It will Ix; tune enough to
make our fortune then. So be ready Menie, when I come for

you."

" ^lany a thing mny happen, before a year or two," said
Marian, gravely.

"Many a tiling, indeed," said Gracmo and Norman, in a

102

.TANF.T S I.OVK \:Sl) SERVICE.

I!' B >

broiitli. But wliilo (Jruonio ^nzcOt wivli siiililcn f^-anty into
licr Kistor's (liislicl iacc, Noriuiin addoa. lanj^hiiij^ly,

'•I sli()!il(l n't wonder but you would prcfor anothor es-
cort, l)(>for(! that time comes. I say, ]\Ienic, did anybody ever
tell you how bonny you arc growing?"

Menio hinglied, softly.

"Oh! yes. Emily told mo when she came home ; and so
did Harry. And you have told mo so yourself to-day, al-
ready."

" You vain ftiiry ! and do you really think you 're bonny ?"

" Janet says, I 'm like Aunt jMarian, and she was bonnier
oven than mamma."

" Like Amit ^Marian!" (Iraeme i-emembered Jjinct's words
with a pang. But slio strove to put the thov';ht from her ;
and with so many l)rigiit fiices i«nmd her, it was not dilhcult
to do to-night. Surely if Uarian were ill, and in danger, the
rest would see it too. And even Janet's anxiety, had been at
rest for a wliile, i\Ienie was better now. How meiry she
liad been with lua* brothers for the last few davs. And
though she seer.ied very weary to-night, no wonder. So were
they iii\. Even Eosie, the tireless, was half asleep on Ar-
thur's knee, and when all the pleasant bustle was over, and
they were settled down in their old quiet way, her sister
would be herself again. Nc^thing so terrible c(mld be draw-
ing near, as the dread which Janet had startled her with
that da v.

" Emily," said Harry, " why do you persist in going back
to that horrid school ? AVhy don't you stay at home, and
(^njov vourself ?"

" I'm not going to any horrid school," said Emily.

"You can't make me beheve thiit you would rather be at
school t]:an at home, doing as you please, and having a good
time with Kose and Mer.ie here."

Emily laughed. "I would lilcc that ; but I like going back
to school too."

" But you' 11 be getting so awfully wise that there will bo
no talking to you, if you stay much longer."

JANKTS LOVE AND SERVICi:.

163

"In that case, it might do you good to Esten," said Emily,
laiigliiug.

" But yon arc altogctlior too wiso ali-eady," Hany persist-
ed " I really am quite afraid to open my lips in your pres-
ence."

" We have all l^ecn wontlering at your strange silence, and
lamenting it," said Ai-thur.

" But, indeed, I must have a vvord with the deacon about
it," said Harry. "I can't understand how he has allowed
it so long ah'cady. I must bring my influence to bear on
him."

"You needn't," said Emily. "I have almost prevailed
upon Graeme, to let Menie go back with me. There will be
two learned ladies then."

Graeme smiled, and shook her head.

" Not till summer. We '11 scic what summer brings. 3Iany
things may happen l)(-fore summer," she added, gravely.

They all assented gi-avely too, but not one of tliein with
any anxious tliought of trouble drawing near. Tliey grew
quiet aft(>r that, and each sat thinking, but it was of plea^sanfc
things mostly ; and if on anyone there fell a shadow for a
moment, it was but with the tliought of the morrow's paii-
ing, and never with the cbead that they might not aU meet
on cai-tli again.

CHAPTER XVII.

r^r^HEY all went away — the lads and Emily, and quietness
\ foil on those that remained. The reaction from the
excitement in which they had been hving for the last fow
weeks was very evident in all. Even Will, and Rosie needed
coaxing to go back to the learning of lessons, and the enjoy-
ment of their old pleasures ; and so Graeme did not wonder
that Marian v.as dull, and did not care to exert herself. The
weather had changed, too, and they quite agreed in thinking
it Avas much nicer to stay within doors than to take their
usual walks and diives. So Marian occupied the ann-chair
or the sofa, with work in her hand, or without it, as the case
might be, and her sister's fears with regard to her were, for
a tune, at rest. For she did not look ill ; she was as cheerful
as ever, entering into all the new arrangements which Janet's
departui'e rendered necessary with interest, and sharmg with
Graeme the light household tasks that fell to her lot when
the " help " was busy with heavier matters.

There was not much that was unpleasant, for the kind and
watchful eyes of IMrs. Snow were quite capable of keeping
in view the interests of two households, and though no
longer one of the family, she was still the ruling sphit in
their domestic aiTairs. With her usual care for the welfare
of the liairns, she had sent the experienced Hannah Lovejoy
up the brae, while she contented herscLf with " breaking in "
Scphronia, Hannah's less helpful 3'ounger sister. There was
a great chtlerenco between the service of love that had all
their life long shielded them from trouble and annoyance,
and Miss Lovojoy's abinipt and rather familiar ministrations.
But Hannah was faithful and capable, indeed, '* a ti-easure,"
(164)

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE,

165

in these clays of destitution in the way of help ; and if her
service was such as money could well pay, she did not f^iidgo
it, while her wages were secure ; and housekeeping and its re-
sponsibilities were not so chsagi-eeablo to Graeme as she had
feared. Indeed, by the time the fivst letter from Norman
came, fall of mock sympathy for her under her new trials,
she was quite as ready to laugh at herself as any of the rest. '
Her faith in Hannah was becoming fixed, and it needed somo
expostulations from Mrs. Snow to prevent her from letting
the supreme power, as to household matters, pass into the
hands of her energetic auxiliarv.

" My dear," said she, " there 's many a thmg that Hannah
could do well enough, maybe better than you could, for that
matter ; but you should do them yourself, notwithstanchng.
It's better for her, and it's better for you, too. Every
woman should take pleasure in these household cares. If
they are h'ksome at fiist they winna be ^aIicu you are used
to them ; and, my dear, it may help you through many on
horn* of trouble and weaiiness to bo able to turn yoiu' hand
to these things. There i;^ gi'eat comfort m it sometimes."

Graeme laughed, and suggested other rcsoun:es that might
do as well to fall back upon in a time of trouble, but Mrs.
Snow was not to be moved.

" ]My dear, that may be all true. I ken books are fine
things to keep folk from thinking for a time ; but the trouble
that is put away that way comes back on one again ; and
it 's only v/hen ioYk are doing their duty that the Lord gives
them abiding comf(n*t. I ken by myself. There have been
days in my lil'e when my heart must have been broken, or
my brain gvown cruzed, if I liadua nred<'d to do this and
to do that, to go here and to go tlK>ro. 5Iy dear, woman's
work, that's never done, is a great help to many a one, as
well as me. And trouble or no trouble, it is what you ought
to knov; and do in your father's house."

So (iraeme submitted to her friend's judgment, and con-
scientiously tried to become wise in all household matters,
keeping trac^k of pieces of Ijccf and bags of Hour, of l)reak-

166

Janet's love and service.

i! *

;
■I

III-

fasts, (linncr.j and suppers, in a way that excited admiration,
and sonictiuics otli(7r feelings, in the mind of the capable
Hannah.

So a very pleasant winter Avore on, and the days were bc-
{^nnmg to glow long .again, before the old dread was
aNN akened in G/aenie. For only in one way was Marian
different fi'om her old self. She did not come to exert her-
self. She was, perhaps, a little quieter, too, but she was
quite cheei-fiil, taldng as much interest as ever in home
affairs and in the affairs of the village. Almost every day,
after the sleighing became good, she enjoyed a diive with
Graeme or her father, or with jilr. Snow in his big sleigh
after the " bomiy greys." They paid visits, too, stopping a
few minutes at Judge Merle's or Islr. Greenleaf 's, or at some
other friendly home in the \illiige ; pnd if their friends' eyes
grew gi'ave and veiy tender at the sight of them, it chd not
for a long time come into Graeme's mind that it was because
they saw something that was invisible as yet to her's. So
the time wore on, and not one in the minister s happj' house-
hold knew that each day that passed so peacefully over
them was leaving one less between '.hem and a great sorrow.

The first fear was awakened in Graeme by a very little
thing. iVfter several stormy Sabbaths had kept her sister at
home fi'om cluu'ch, a mild, bright day came, but it did not
tempt her out.

"I am very sorry not to go, Graeme," said she; "but I
was so weary last thue. Let me stay at home to-day."

So she stayed : and all the v/ay down the hiU and over
Ahe valley the thought of her darkened the simlight to her
sister's eyes. Nor was the shadow chased away by the many
kindly greetings that awaited her at the cliurch door ; for no
one asked why her sister Avas not \\ ith her, but only how she
seemed to-daj'. It was well that the sunshhie, coming m on
the corner where she sat, gave her an excuse for letting fall
her veil over her face, for many a bitter tear fell behind it.
When the services were over, and it was time to go home,
she shrunk fi'om answering more inquiries about Marian,

^■1

'^l

JANETS LOVL; A^'D SEIiVICE.

107

for

Icr

lio

llG

1)11

111

It.

^»

and liastcnctl away, tlionyli slio knew that Mrs. Mcrlo Avaa
waiting for licr at the otlicr oncl of the broiul iimh, and that
Mrs. Grccnleaf had much ado to keep fast liold of her ini-
patioiit boy till sho should speak a word with her. But she
could not trust herself to meet them and to answer them
quietly, and hurried away. So she went liome again, over
the valley and up the hiU with the darkness still round her,
till Meuie's bright smile and cheerful welcome chased both
pain and darkness away.

But when the rest were gone, and the sisters were left to
the Sabixith ({uiet of the deserted home, the fear came Ixick
again, foi in a little ^larian laid herself down ^\itli a sigh of
weariness, and slept v.itli her cheek laid on the Bible that
she held in her hixnd. As (iraeme listened to her quick
breathing, and watched the hectic rishig on her cheek, she felt,
for the moment, as though all hope were vain. But she put
the thought from hor. It was too dreadful to \)Q true ; and
she chid herself for always seeing tlie possible dark side of
future events, and told iK'rself that she must change in this
respect. AVitli all her might sho strove to reason away the
sickening fear at her heart, saying how utterly beyond belief
it was that Menie could bo going to die — Menie, who had
always been so well and so merry. Sho was growing too
fast, tliat was all ; and when the spring came again, they
would all go to some quiet place hy the sea-slKU-e, and run
about among the rocks, and over the sands, till she sln)uld
be well and strong as ever again.

" If spring were only ccnne !" sho sighed to herself. But
lirst there were weeks of frost and snow, and th(>n v»eeks of
bleak weather, before the mild sea-bri'ezes could blow on her
drooping llower, and (Iracme could not r(\ason her fears
away ; nor when the pamful liour of thought was over, and
3lenie opened her eyes with a smile, did lu-r cheerful sweet-
ness chase it avvay.

After this, for a few days, Graemo grew impatient of h<'r
sister's liuietness, and si rove to win her U) her old employ-

ments again.

She would have her struggle against her wish

Ill ww^s

I! 9 i

168

.TANin's LOVE AND SERVICE.

to bo still, and took hci* to rule and to visif, and even to
walk, when tlio diiy was lino. But this was not for long.
]\I(>iuo yielded ahvays, and tried with all her niij^^ht to seem
well and not weary ; but it was not always with success ;
and (Iraonio saw tliat it was in vain to urge her beyond her
strength ; so, in a little, she was allowed to fall back into
her old ways again.

"I will speak to Dr. Chittenden, and know the worst,"
said (Jraenie, to herself, but her heart grew sick at tho
thought of what tho worst might bo.

Uy and by there came a inikl bright day, more like April
than Januaiy. INIr. Ellit)tt had gone to a distant part of tho
parish for tho day, and had taken AViU. and Rosie with him,
a'ul tho sisters wore left alone. (Jraemc would have gladly
availed herself of Deacon Snow's oiler to lend them grey
Major, or to (hivo them himself for a few miles. Tlie day
was so line, she said to Menie ; but she was loth to go. It
would be so pleasant to be a whole day quite alone together.
Or, if (jlracmo liked, they might send down for Janet in the
afternoon. Ctraemc sighed, and urged no more.

"Wo can finish our book, you Imow," went on Menio.
"And there are the last letters to read to Mrs. Snow. I
h(ipe nobody will come in. Wo shall have such a quiet day."

But this was not to be. There was the sound of sleigh-
bells beneath the window, and Cxraemo looked out.

"It is Dr. Chittenden," said she.

IMarian rose from the sofa, trying, as she always did, when
the Di*. came, to look strong and well. She did not take his
visits to herself. Dr. Chittenden had always con\o ]io\v and
then to see her father, and if his visits had been moru fre-
quent of late they had not boon more formal or professional
than before. Graeme watched him as be fastcjned his
horse, and tlien went to the door to meet him.

" My child," said he, as he took her hand, and turned her
face to tho light, " are you (juito well to-day ? "

"Quito well," said (»racmc ; but she was very pale, and
her cold hand trembled in his.

JANET S LOVK iVND SERVTcE.

16!)

, when

\,ko lii«

)\v and

ro irc-

ssional

ed liis

ed her

Ic, and

*' You are quite well, I see," said be, as Marian came for-
ward to f,''rcct liini.

"I ouLjlit to be," said Marian, laiigliing and pointing to an
empty bottle on tlie mantelpiece.

" I sec. "NVe must bave it replenisbed."

"D.)n't you tbink sometbing less bitter would do as
well ? " said Marian, making a pitiful face. " Graeme don't
tbmk it does mo mucb good."

" Miss Graeme bad best take care bow sbc speaks disre-
spectfully of my precious bitters. But, 111 see. I bavo
some doubts about tliom myself. You ougbt to be getting
rosy and strong upon tliem, and I 'm afraid you arc not,"
said be, looking gi'avcly into tlie fair pale face tbat be took
between bis bands. He looked up, and met Graeme's look
fixed anxiously upon bim. Ho did not avert bis quicldy as
be bad sometimes done on sucb occasions. Tbe gi'avity of
bis look deep(med as bo met ber's.

'* Wbere bas your fatbcr gone ? " asked be.

" To tbo Bell neigbborbood, for tbo day. Tbe cbildren
have gone with bim, and Graeme and I are going to haye a
nice quiet day," said Marian.

" you are going with me," said the doctor.

" With you ! "

" Yes. Have you any objections ? "

" No. Only I don't care to ride just for the sake of
riding, without having anywhere to go."

" But, I am going to take you somewhere. I came for
that piirposc. Mrs. Greenleaf bcnt me. She wants you to-
day."

" But, I can go there any time. I was there not long ago.
I would rather stay at home to-day with Graeme, thank

you."

"And what am I to say to Mrs. Greenleaf? No, I 'm not
going without you. So, got ready and come with me."

Menie pouted. " And Graeme had just consented to my
staying at homo quietly for the da}'."

"Which does not prove ]\Iiss Graeme's wisdom," snid the
8

JANKT 8 LOVK AND 8KUVICE.

If!

1!' 5;

doctor. " Wliy, cliild, how many April days do you tliink
we are going to have in JamiaiyV Be thankfiU for the
chance to go out ; for, if I am not much mistaken, we are to
have a storm that will keep us all at homo. Miss Graeme,
get your sister's things. It is health for her to be out in
such a day."

Graeme went without a word, and when she came back
the doctor said,

" There is no haste. I am going farther, and will call as
I come back. Lie down, dear child, and rest just now."

Graeme left tlie room, and as the doctor turned to go out,
she beckoned him into the study.

" You don't mean to tell me that IMcnie is in danger ? "
said she, with a gas]).

" I am by no means sm'o what I shall say to you. It will
depend on how you are likely to hsteu," said the doctor,
gravel3\

Graeme strove to command herself and speak calmly.

" Anything is better than suspense." Then, lajing her
hand on his arm, she addetl, " She is not worse I Surely
you would have told us ! "

" My dear young lady, calm yoiu'self. She is not worse
than she has been. The chances of rccoverj'^ are altogc^ther
in her favor. The indications of disease are comparatively
sUght — that is, she has youth on her side, and a good consti-
tution. If the month of March wore over, we would have
little to fear with another summer before us. Your mother
did not die of consumption ? "

" No, but " Tlie remembrance of what Janet had

told her about their "bonny Aunt Marian" took away
Graeme's power to speak.

"Well, we have everything to hope if we can see her
safely through the spring Avithout taking cold, and you must
keep her cheerful."

" She is always cheerful."

" Well — that 's well. You must not let her do anything to
weary herself. I don't hke the stove heat for her. Yt)U

tliink

r the

•

ire to
acme,
3ut in

back

;all as

»o out,

igcr {

It will
doctor,

ng licr
Snrcly

worse
•o-(^ther
•ativcly

consti-

itl have

mother

[ct had
away

[jee her
III must

liing to
You

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

171

should let her sleep hi the other room where the lircplacc is.
When the days arc tine, she must be well wrapped up and
go out, and I well send her something. My de;ir, you havo
no oicasion fur despondency. The chances are all in her
favor."

He went toward the door, but came back again, and after
walking up and d(nvn the room for a little, he came close to
Graeme.

" .Vnd if it were not so, my cliild, you are a Christian. If
the possibility you have been contemplating should become a
reality, ought it to be deplored ? "

A strong shudder passed over Graeme. The doctor
paused, not able to withstand the pain in her face.

' ' Nay, my child — if you could kvvp her here and assure to
her all that the world can give, what would that be in com-
parison with the ' rest that remameth ? ' For her it would be
far better to go, and for you — when your time comes to lie
down and die — would it sooth you then to know that she
nnist be left b(;hind, to travel, perhaps, with gamients not
unspotted, all the toilsome way alone ? "

Graeme's face drooped till it was quite hidden, and her
tears fell fast. Her friend did not seek to c-hedc them.

"I know the first thought is terrible. But, child! the
grave is a safe place in which to kcej) our treasures. Mine
are nearly all there. I would not havo it othei-wise — and
they are safe from the chances of a changeful world. You
will be glad for yourself by and b}'. You should be glad for
yoiu* sister now."

"If I were sure — if I were quite sure," murmured Graeme
through her weei)ing.

"Sure tliat she is going home?" said the doctor, stoojiLng
low to whisper the words. " I think j-ou may be sure — as
sure as one can be in such a case. It is a great mystery.
Your father will know best, (iod is good. Pray for her."

"My father! He does not cv(^n thmk of danger."
Graeme clasped her hands with a quick despau'ing motion.

"Miss Graeme," said the doctor, hastily, "you nnist nut

172

Janet's love anh bi;kvice.

spciik to your father yet. ^Marian's case is l)y no means
hopeless, and youi* father must bo spared all anxiety at pro-
sent. A sudden shock might — " ho paused.

" Is not my father well ? Has ho not quite recovered ? "
asked (jlraeme."

" (^uito well, my dear, don't bo fancifid. But it will do
no good to disturb him now. I will speak to him, or give
you leave to speak to him, if it should Ijecomc necessary. In
the meantime you must bo cheerfiU. You have no cause to
be otherwise."

It was easy to say "bo cheerful." But Graeme hardly
hoped for her sister, after that day. Often and often she
repeated to herself the doctor's words, that there was no im-
mediate danger, but she could take no comfort fi'om them.
The great dread was always upon her. She never sj^oke of
her fears agaui, and shi'ank from any allusion to her sister's
state, till her friends — and even the faithful Janet, who knew
her so well — doubted whether she realized the danger, which
was becoming every day more apparent to them all. But
she knew it well, and strove with all h^r power to look
calmly forward to the time when the worst must come ; and
almost always, in her sister's presence, she strove success-
fully. But these quiet, cheerful hours in Marian's room,
were purchased by hours of prayerful agony, known only to
Him who is full of compassion, even when His chastisements
are most severe.

means
at i)ro-

crcd ? "

will do
or give
iry. In
ausc to

! hardly
ftcn she
3 no im-
n them,
poke of
r sister's
ho knew
3r, which
ill. But
to look
oae ; and
success-
's room,
1 only to
isements

CHAPTER XVIII.

NO. None knew so well as Graeme that her sister was
passmg away from among them ; but even she did not
dream how near the time was come. Even when the nightly
journey up stairs was more than Marian coidd accomplish,
and the pretty parlor, despoiled of its ornaments, became her
sick-room, Graeme prayed daily for strength to carry her
through the long months of watching, that she believed were
before her. As far as possible, everything went on as usual
in the house. The childi-en's lessons were learned, and re-
cited as usual, generally by Marian's side for a tune, but
afterwards they went elsewhere, for a very little thing tired
her now. Still, she hardly called herself ill. She suflfered no
pain, and it was only after some unusual exertion that she, or
others, realized how very weak she was becoming day bj' day.
Her workbasket stood by her side still, for though she seldom
touched it now, Graeme could not bear to put it away. Their
daily readings were becoming brief and infi*equent. One by
one their favorite books found their accustomed places on the
shelves, and remained imdisturbed. Within reach of her
hand lay always Menie's httle Bible, and now and then she
read a verse or two, but more frequently it was Graeme's
trembling lips, that murmured the sweet famihar words.
Almost to the very last she came out to family worship with
the rest, and when she could not, they went in to her. ^Vnd
the voice, that had been the sweetest of them all, joined softly
and sweetly still in theii* song of praise.

Very quietly passed these last days and nights. Many
kind inquiries were made, and many kind offices performed
for them, but for the most part the sisters were left to each

(173)

174

JANICT S LOVE AND SERVICE.

other. Even the children were beguiled into frequent visits
to ^Irs. Snow and others, and many a tranquil horn* did the
Biwte^s pass together. Tranquil only in outwai'd seeming
many of these hoiu's were to Graeme, for never a moment
was the thought of the parting, that every day brought nearer,
absent from her, and often when there were smiles and fheoi*-
ful words upon her lips, her heart was hke to break for tlio
desolation that was before them.

*' Graeme," said IMarian, one night, as the elder sister
moved restlessly about the room, "you are tii-ed tonight.
Come and lie down beside me and rest, before "Will, and Itosio
come home."

Weary Graeme was, and utterly despondent, with now and
then such bitter throbs of pain at her heart, that she felt she
must get away to weep out her tears alone. But she must
have patience a little longer, and so, lying down on the bed,
she suffered the wasted arms to clasp themselves about her
neck, and for a time the sisters lay cheek to cheek in silence.

" Graeme," said Marian, at last, " do you think papa kous ? "

"What, love?"

" That I am going soon. You know it, Graeme ? "

Graeme's heart stiiTcd with a sudden throb of pain. There
was n rushing in her ears, and a dimness before her eyes, as
though the di*eaded enemy had ah'cady come, but she foimd
voice to say, softly,

" You 're no' feared, Menio ? "

" No," said she, quickly, then raising herself up, and lean-
ing close over, so as to see her sister's face, she added, " Do
you think I need to fear, (iraeme '? "

K she had had a thousand worlds to give, she W(iuld have
giv(ui all to know that her little sister, standing on the brink
of the river of death, need not fear to enter it

" None need fear who tnist in Jesus," said she, softly.

" No And I do trust Him. Who else could I trust, now
that I am going lo die? I know Ho is able to save."

" AU who come to him," whispered Graeme. "My darling,
have you come V "

JANKTh l.oVL AND SKKVICK

" I think ho has di-awu me to Himself. I think I am His
very own. Graeme, I know I am not wise hko j'ou — and I
have not all my hfe been good, but thoughtless and willful
often — but I know that I love Jesus, and I think He loves mo,
too."

She lay quietly down again.

" (Iraenie, are vou afi'aid for me? "

" I eanna be afraid for one who tnists in Jesus."

It was all she could do to say it, for the cry that was rising
to her lips fiom her hcai't, in which soitow was stmgghng
with joy.

" Inhere is only one thing thr.f: sometimes makes me doubt,"
said Marian, again. " My liio has been such a happy hfe.
I have had no tribulation that the Bible speaks of — no buffet-
tuig — no tossing to and fro. I have been happy all my life,
and happy to the end. It seems hai'dly fair, Graeme, when
there are so many that have so much siiffering."

"Cod has been very good to yon, dear,"

" And you '11 lot me go willingly, Graeme ? "

" Oh ! iMenio, niiLst you go. Could j'ou no' bide with us a
little while ? " (said Graeme, her tears coming fast A look
of pain came to her sister's face.

" Graeme," said she, softly ; " at first ± thought I couldna
bear to go and leave you all. But it seems easy now. And
you wouldna bring back the pain, dear? "

" No, no ! my darling."

"At Hist you'll all be sorrj-, but God will comfort you.
And niv i!vi'<er winna have long to wait, and you'll have
liosie aji(i 'SViil. and, Graeme, you wiU tell papa ? "

" Y<y I wiU tell him."

" Ho '11 grieve at first — and I coiUd not l)ear to see hhu
gi'ieve. (Vfter lie has time to think about it, he wiU. be glad."

•' And Arthur, and all the rest " murnim-od Graeme.

A momentary shadow passed over Idarian's face.

" Oh ! Graeme, at fir' i thought it ->fould bioak my heart
to leave you all — but I am willing now. God, I trust,
Las made me wilhng. And after a little they will be

1,**"^

■ f

!'■

ITO

Janet's love and service.

hajipy aj^ain. But thoy will novcr forget me, will they,
Graeme?''

'* My darling ! never ! "

"►■^o.iictinu^s I wish I had knoANTi — I wish I had been quite
sur(>, wlien tlicy were al! at lionie. I v.ould Hko to have said
something. But it doesna really matter. They will never
ibrgrt me ."

" We will send for them," said Graeme, tlirough her tears.

" I don't know. I tlmik not. It would giieve them, and
1 can Ijear so little now. And we were so hapi)y the last
time. I think they had best not copie, (iraeme."

But the words were slow to eonie, and her ej'cs turned, oh !
so wistfully, to her sister's face, who had no words with which
to answer.

" Sometimes I tL'oam of them, and when I waken, I do so
long to see tliem," and the tears gatiiered sh^wly in her eyes.
" But it is as well as it is, pcrhaiiH. I would rather they would
tlmik of me as I used to be, than to sec me now. No,
Graeme, I think I will wait."

In the pause that followed, she kissed her sister softly
many times.

"It won't be long. And, (Jraeme — I shall sec oiu* mother
first — and you must have patience, and wait. AVe shall all
get safe homo at last — I am quite, quite sure of that."

A step was heard at the door, and Mrs. Snow entered.

" Weel, bairns I " v as all she said, as she sat down beside
them. She saw that tliey were both much moved, and slio
laid her kind hand caressingly on tlu^ hair of the eldest sister,
as though she knew she was the one who needed comforting.

"Have the bamis come?" asked wienie.

" No, dear, I bade them bide till I went down the brae
again. Do you want them home?"

" Oh no ! I (mly wondcu'od whv I didna hear them."

The wind howled th'carily about the house, and they
listened to it for a time in silence.

"It 's no' like spring to-night, Janet," said Menie.

"No, dear, it 's as wintry a night as wo have had this while.

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

177

1 they,

n quite
vo said
1 never

r tears,
an, and
,lie lust

led, «)b!
h which

I do so

lor eyes.
y would
ft'. No,

softly

mother
nail all

red.

beside
and she
it sister,
iforting.

le brao

id thoy

is while.

But the wind is chan«^i<:( to the south now, and we 'U soon
see the bare hills a<^ain."

"Yes ; I hojw so," said Menic, softly.

" Are you wcaryinj]^ for the spring, dear V "

'•Whiles I weary." But the longing in those "bonny
e'en " was for no earthly s[)ring, Janet weU knew.

" I ayo mind the time when I gathered the snowdrops and
daisies, and the one rose, on my mother's birthday. It was
long before this time of the year — and it seems long to wait
for spring."

"Ay, I mind ; but that was in Ihe sheltered garden at tho
Ebba. There were no llowers blooming cm Hio bare hills u:
Scotland then more than hero. You mnstna begin to weaiy
for the spring yet. You '11 get down tho brae soon, maybe,
and then you wmna weary."

Menio made no answer, but a spasm passed over the face
of Graeme. The same thought was on the mind of all tho
three. When Menie went down the brae again, it nnist bo
with eyelids closed, and with hands folded on a heart at rest
forever.

" Janet, when will Sandy come ? Have you got a letter
yet?"

" Yes ; I got a letter to-day. It winna be long now."

" Oh ! I hope not. I want to see him nnd your mother.
I want them to see me, too. Sandy would hardly mind me,
if he didna come till afterwards."

" IMi.ss Graeme, my dear," said ]Mrs. Snow, hoai*sely, "go
ben and sit with your fatlua* a while. It will rest you, and
I '11 bide with Menie here."

CJraemo rose, and kissing her sister, softly went away.
Not into the study, however, but out into the darkness, where
the March wind moaned so drearily among the leatless elms,
that she might weep out the tears which sIk; had Ixvn stnig-
gling with so long. Up and down the snow-enciimbered path
she walked, s<'arco knowing that she shiv(>red in tlu; blast.
Conscious only of one thought, that Menio must die, and
that tho time was hastening.
8*

178

jaket's love and service.

Yes. It was comijig veiy near n(nv. God help them all.
Weary with the unavaihng struggle, weaiy to faintness with
the burden of care and sorrow, she had borne through all
th(;so months of watching, to-night she let it fall. She
bowed herself uttoily down.

" Ho lot it be ! God's will bo done !"

And leaning with bowed head and clasped hands over the
little gate, where she had stood in many a changing mood,
she prayed as twice or tliiice in a life time. God gives power
to his childi'on to pray — face to face — in His very presence.
Giving her will and wish up quite, she lay at his feet like a
httle child, chastened, yet consoled, saying not with her lips,
but with the sor I's deepest breathing, " I am Thme. Save
nie." Between Ler and all earthly things, except the knowl-
edge that her sisler was v^vii^g, n kindly veil was interjiosed.
No foreshadowing of a future more utterly bereaved than
Menie's death would bring, darkened the light which this
momentaiy ghmpse of her Lord revealed. In that hour she
ate angel's food, and from it received strength to walk through
desert places.

She started as a hand was laid upon her shoulder, but her
bead drooped again as she met jMr. Snow's look, so grave in
its kindliness.

" Miss Graeme, is it best you should be out here in the
cold V"

" No," said Graeme, humbly. " I am going in." But she
did not move even to withdraw herself from the gentle pres-
sure of his hand.

"IVIiss C»raeme," said he, as they stood thus with the gate
between them, " had n't you better give up now, and lot the
Lord do as He 's a mind to about it ?"

"Yes," said Graeme, "I give up. His will be done."

"Amen!" said her fiuend, and the hand that rested on her
shoulder was placed upon her head, and Graeme knew that
in " the golden vials full of odors" before the throne, Deacon
Snow's prayer for her found a place.

She opened the gate and held it till he passed through,

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

179

and tlicu followed him up tbo path into Hannah's bright
kitchen.

" Will you go in and see papa, or in there ?" aslccd she,
glancing towards the parlor door, and shading her eves as
she spoke.

" "NVell, I gucsr, I '11 sit down here. It won't be long before
Mis' Snow '11 be going along down. But don't you wait. (Jo
ri^ht in to your father."

Graeme opened the study door and went in.

" I will teU him to-night," said she. " God help us."

Her father was sitting in the fireUght, holding an open let-
ter in his hantl.

"Graeme," said he, as she sat down, "have you seen
Janet ?" ^

" YcR, papa. I left her with Marian, a httle ago."

" Poor Janet !" said her father, sighing heavily. No one
was so particular as the minister in gi^^ng Janet her new
title. It was always " Mistress Snow" or " the deacon's wife"
with him, and Graeme wondered to-night.

" Has anything happened ?" asked she.

" Have yon not heard ? She has had a letter from home.
Hero it is. Hvr mother is dead"

The hitter dropped from Graeme's outstretched hand.

" Yes," continued her ftither. " It was rather sudden, it
seems — soon after she had decided to come out here. It will
1)0 doubly hard for her daughter to bear on that account. I
must speak to her, poor Janet !"

Graeme was left alone to muse on the imcertainty of all
tlnngs, and to tell herself over and over agam, how vain it
was to set the heart on any earthly good. "Poor Janet!"
well might her father say ; and amid her own sorrow Graeme
grieved sincerely for the sorrow of li(>r friend. It was very
hard to bear, now that she had been looking foi'ward to a
happy meeting, and a few ((Ui. t vivirs together after their
long se])arati()U. It did seem very Imid, and it was with a
full heart that in an hour afterwjuxl, when her father returned,
she sought her fiiend.

180

JANETS LOVE AND SKRVICK.

Mr. Snow had gone home and his wife was to stay all night,
Graeme found when she entered her sister's room. Marian
was asleep, and coming close to INIrs. Snow, who sat gazing
into the fire, Graeme knelt down beside her and put her arms
about her neck vrithout a word. At first Graeme thought
she was weeping. She was not ; but in a Uttlo she said, in
a voice that showed how much her apparent calmness cost
her, " You see, my dear, the upshot of all oui* fine plans."

" Oh, Janet ! There 's nothing in all the world that we can
trust in."

"Ay, you may weel say that But it is a lesson that we
ai-e slow to learn ; and the Lord winna let us forget."

There was a pause.
i^' Wlien was it ?" asked Graeme, softly.

" Six weeks ago this very night, I have been thinking, since
I sat here. Her trouble was short and sharp, and she was
glad to go."

" And would she have come ?"

*' Ay, lass, but it wasna to be, as I might have kenned from
the beginning. I thought I asked God's guiding, and I was
persuaded into thinking I had gotten it But you see my
heart was set on it from the very first — guiding or no guid-
ing — and now the Lord has seen fit to punish mo for my
self-seeking."

" Oh, Janet !" said Graeme, remonstratingly.

" My dear, it 's true, though it sets me ill to vex you with
saying it now. I have more need to take the lesson to heart.
May the Lord give me gi*ace to do it."

( Jraeme could say nothing, and Janet continued —

'• It 's ill done iji me to grieve for her. She is far better
off than ever I could have made her with the best of wills,
and as for me — I must submit"

"You have Sandy still."

" Aye, thank God. May He have him in His keeping."

" And he will come yet"

♦' Yes, I have Uttle doubt But I 'U no' set mysslf to the

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

181

hewing out of broken cisterns this wliilo again. Tlio Lord
kens best."

Mtev that night ^Irs. Snow never left the house for many
hours at a time till Menie went away. GIraeme never told
her father of the soitow that was drawing near. As the days
went on, she saw by many a token, that he kiiew of the com-
ing parting, but it tlid not seem to look sorrowful to him.
Ho was mu(*h with her now, but all could see that the hours
by her bed-side were not sorrowful ones to him or to her.
But to Graeme he did not speak of her sister's state till near
the very last.

They were sitting together in the firelight of the study, as
they seldom sat now. They had been sitting thus a long
time — so long that Graeme, f(jrgettiiig to wear a cheerful
look in her father's presence, had let her weary eyes close,
and her hands drop listlessly on her lap. She looked ut-
terly weary and despondent, as she sat there, quite imcon-
Gcious that her father's eyes were upon her.

" You are tu'ed to-night, Graeme," said he, at last. Graemo
started, but it was not easy to bring her usual look back, so
she buiiied herself with something at the table and did not
speak. Her father sighed.

" It will not bo long now."

Graemo sat motionless, but she had no voice ,vith which to
speak.

" We little thought it was our bonny ISIenio who was to
sec her mother first. Think of the joy of that meeting,
Graeme !"

Graeme's head ch'ooped down on the table. If she had
spoken a word, it must have been with a gi'cat burst of weej>-
ing. She trembled from head to foot in her eflfort to keep
herself quiet. Her father watclKul her for a moment.

" Graeme, you are not grudging your sister to such bless-
edness ?"

" Not now, papa," whispered she, heavily. " I am almost
wilUng now."

182

JANKl'ri J-OVi: A2JD SERVICE.

" What is tlio happiest life here — and Menie's has been
hapi^y — to the blessedness of the re.st ^Yhich I confidently be-
lieve awaits her, dear child ?"

" It is not that I gnidge to let her go, but that I fear to be
left l;eliind."

" Ay, love ! But wo must bide God's time. And you
will have your brothers and Rose, and you are young, and
time heals sore wounds in young hearts."

Graeme's head drooped lower. She was weeping unre-
strainedly but quietly now. Her father went on —

" And afterwards you will have many tilings to comfort
you. I used to think in the time of my sorrow, that its sud-
denness added to its bitterness. If it had ever come into
my mind that your mother might leave me, I might have
borne it better, I thought. But God knows. There are
some things for which we cannot i^repare."

There was a long silence.

" Graeme, I have something which I must say to you," said
her father, and his voice showed that he was sj)eaking with
an effoi"t. *' If the time comes — when the time comes — my
child, I gi'ieve to give you pain, but what I have to say had
best be said now ; it will bring the time no nearer. My
child, I have something to say to you of the time when we
shall no longer be togotlier — ." Graeme did not move.

" jMv child, the backward look over one's life, is so differ-
ent from the doubtful glances one sends into the future. I
stand now, and see all the way by which (jrod has led mo,
with a p;Tieved wonder, that I should ever have doubted his
l(ivc and care, and how it was all to end. The dark places,
and the rough places that once made my heart faint with
fear, are, to look back U})()i:', radiant with hght and beauty —
INtounts of God, with the bright cloud overshado^ving them.
And yet, I mind gi'opmg about b(.'fore them, like a blind
man, with a fear and di'cad unK]ieakable.

" My child, are you hearing me ? Oh ! if my experience
could teach you ! I know it cannot be. The blessed lesson
that suffering teaches, each must bear for himself ; and I

JAXm-'s LOVE AND SERVICE.

183

i£fer-

!. I

lUO,
luB

mcQ
sson

a I

need not tell you that there never yet was sorrow sent to a
child of God, for which there is no balm. You are youn«]f ;
and vffary and spent as you are to-night, no wonder that you
think at the sig;ht, of the deep wastes you may have to pass,
and the dreary waters you may have to cross. But there is
no fear that you will be alone, dear, or that He will give yon
anythuig to do, or bear, and yet withhold the needed strength.
Are you hearing me, my child ?"

Graeme gave a mute sign of assent.

" Menie, dear child, has had a life bright and brief. Yours
may be long and toilsome, but if the end be the same, what
matter ! you may desire to change with her to-night, but we
caimot change our lot. God make us patient in it, — patient
and heljiful. Shoi*t as your sister's life has been, it has not
been in vain. She has been like hght among us, and her
memory will always be a blessedness — and to you Graeme,
most of all."

Graeme's lips opened with a ciy. Turning, she laid her
face down on her father's knee, and her tears fell fast. Her
father raised her, and clasping her closely, let her weep for
a little.

"Hush love, calm yourself," said he, at last. "Nay," ho
added, as she would have risen, " rest here, my poor tii'ed
Graeme, my child, my best comforter always."

Graeme's frame shook with sobs.

" Don't papa — I cannot bear it "

She struggled with herself, and gi'ew calm agam.

" Forgive me, papa. I know I ought not. And indeed,
it is not because I am altogether uuhapjiy, or because I am
not willing to let her go "

" Hush, love, I know. You are your mother's own patient
child. I trust you quite, Graeme, and that is why I have
corn-age to give you pain. For I must say more to-night.
If anything should happen to mo — hush, love. My saying
it does not hasten it. But when I am gone, you will care for
the others. I do not fear for you. You will always have
kind friends in Janet and her husband, and will never want

184

.TANKTfl I.OVK AND 8EUVICE.

a homo while thoy can f^ve you ono, I am sure. But Graeme,
I would like you all to keep toj^'cthcr. Bo ono family, an
long as possible. So if Arthur wishes you to f^o to him, go
all together. He may have to work hard for a time, but you
will take a blessmg with you. Aud it will be best for all,
that you should keep together. "

The shock wliich her father's words gave, calmed Graeme
in a moment.

*'But, pai)a, you are not ill, not more than you have
been ?"

" No, love, I am better, much better. Still, I wished to
say this to you, because, it is always well to be prepared.
That is all I had to say, love."

But he clasped her to him for a moment still, and before
ho let her go, ho whispered, softly,

" I trust you quite, love, and you 11 bring them all homo
safe to yom* mother aud mo."

It was not very long after this, a few tranquil days and
nights only, and the end camo. Thoy were altogether in
Marian's room, sitting quietly after worship was over. It
was the usual time for separating for the night, but they still
lingered. Not that any of them thought it woidd bo to-night.
Mrs. Snow might have thought so, for never during the long
evening, had she stiiTcd from the side of the bed, but watch-
ed with earnest eyes, the ever changing face of the dying
gu'l. She had been slumbering quietly for a Uttle while, but
suddenly, as IMrs. Snow bent over her more closely, she
opened her eyes, and seeing something in her face, she said,
with an echo of surprise in her voice,

" Janet, is it to bo tonight ? Aro thoy all here. Papa,
Graeme. Where is Graeme ?"

They were with her in a moment, and Graeme's cheek was
laid on her sister's wasted hand.

" Well, my lammie !" said her father, softly.

" Papa ! it is not too good to bo true, is it ?"

Her father bent down till his hps touched her choek.

" You are not afraid, my child ?"

#,.

Janet's love and seuvick.

isn

Afraid ! no, it was not fcai* ho saw in those sweet trimn-
pliant eyes. Her look never wuncler<;(l fiom his I'loe, but it
changed soon, and ho knew that the King's messenger was
come. Munuuring an inaiiicuhite jn'ayer, he bowed his head
in the awful presence, and when he looked again, he saw
no more those bonny eyes, but .lanet's toilworn hand laid
over them.

Graeme's cheek still lay on her sister's stiffening hand,
and when they all rose up, and her father, i)assing round tho
couch put his arm about her, she did not move.

" There is no need Let her rest ! it is all over now, tho
long watching and waitmg! let tho tired eyelids close, and
thank God for tho momentaiy forgetfulness which Ho has
given her."

Papa,
}okwas

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Corporation

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CHAPTER XIX.

THAT night, Graeme slept the dreamless sleep of utter
exhaustion, and the next day, whenever her father or
Mrs. Snow stole in to look at her, she slept or seemed to
sleep still.

" She is wearj%" they said, in whispers. " Let her resi"
Kind neighbors came and went, with offers of help and sym-
pathj', but nothing was suffered to disturb the silence of the
now darkened chamber. " Let her rest," said all.

But when the next night passed, and the second day was
drawing to a close, Mrs. Snow became anxious, and her visits
were more frequent. Graeme roused herself to drink the
tea that she brought her, and to Mrs. Snow's question whe-
ther she felt rested, she said, " Oh ! yes," but she closed her
eyes, and turned her face away again. Janet went out and
seated herself in the kitchen, with a picture of utter despond-
fci.cy. Just then, her husband came in.

" Is anything the matter V asked he, anxiously.

*' No," said his wife, rousing herself. " Only, I dinna ken
weel what to do."

" Is IVIiss Graeme sick ? or is she asleep ?"

" I hope she 's no' sick. I ken she 's no' sleeping. But
she ought to be roused, and when I think what she 's to be

roused to . But, if she wants to see her sister, it must

be'bcforc before she 's laid m "

A strong shudder passed over her.

" Oh ! man ! it 's awful, the fii'st sight of a dear face in
the coflQn "

t %^

Need she see her again ?" asked Mr. Snow.
(18G)

Janet's love and aERVicE.

187

*' Oh ! yes, I doubt she must. And the bairns too, and it
will soon be here, now."

" Her father," suggested ]Mr. Snow.

" He has seen her. He was there for hours, both yester-
day and to-day. But he is asleep now, and he has need of
rest. I camia disturb him."

" Could n't you kind of make her think she was needed —
to her father or the little ones ? she would rouse herself if
they needed her."

" That 's weel said," said Mrs. Snow, gratefully. " Go you
down the brae for the bairns, and I '11 go and speak to her

again.

" Miss Graeme, my dear," said she, softly, " could you
speak to me a minute ?"

Her manner was quite calm. It was so like the manner
in which Graeme had been hundi'eds of times siunmoned
to discuss domestic matters, that without seemmg to re-
alize that there was anything peculiar in the time or circum-
stances, she opened her eyes and said, quietly.

" Well, what.is it, Janet? "

" My dear, it is the bairns. There is nothing the matter
with them," added she hastily, as Graeme started. " They
have been down the brae with Emily all the day, but they
are coming home now; and, my dear, they havena been ben
yonder, and I think they should see her before — before she 's
moved, and I diima like to disturb your father. My bairn,
are you able to rise and take Will, and wee Rosie ben
yonder."

Graeme raised herself slowly up.

" Janet, I have been forgetting the bairns.'

Mrs. Snow ha<l much ado to keep back her tears; but she
only said cheerfully:

"My dear, you were weary, and they have had EmU}'."

She would not be tender with her, or even help her nmch
in her preparations ; though her hands trembled, and she
touched things in a vague, uncertain way, as though she did
not know what she was doing. Janet could not tnist herself

18S

JANET S LOVE AND .-ERVICE.

to do what she would like to have done; she could only watch
her without appcarmg to do so, bv no means sure that she
had done right in rousuig her. She was ready at last.

" Are th(!y come ? " asked Graeme, faintly.

" No ; dear. There 's no haste. Rest yourself a wee while.
My dear, are you sure you are quite aljle for it ?" added she,
as Graeme rose.

" Yes ; I thinlc so. But I would like to go alono, first."

" My poor lamb ! If I were but siu-e that I have been
right," thought Janet, as she sat down to wait

An hour passed, and when the d.jor opened, and Graeme
came out again, the fears of her faithful fiiend were set at
rest.

"She liasua' been alone all this time, as I might have
known," said Janet to herself, ^sith a great nish of hidden
tears. " I 'm faithless, and sore besot myself whiles, but I
needna fear for them. The worst is over now."

And was the worst over ? After that was the covering of
the beloved forever from their sight, and the return to the
silent and empty home. There was the gathering up of the
broken threads of their changed hfe; the falling back on
their old cares and pleasures, all so much the same, and yet
60 diflferent. There was the vague unbeUef in the reaUty of
their sorrow, the momentDry forgetfulness, and then the pang
of sudden remembrance,— the nightly dreams of her, the
daily waking to find her gone.

By and by, came letters from the lads ; those of Norman
and Harry full of bitter regi'ets, which to Graeme seemed
almost like reproaches, that they had not been sent for before
the end; and the grief of those at home came back strong
and fi'esh again.

The coming of the " bonny spring days" for which Norman
had so wished, wakened " vain longings for the dead," The
brooks rose high, and the young leaves rustled on the elms ;
and all pleasant sounds sj)oke to them with Menie's voice.
The flowers which she had planted, — the ilay-flower and the
violets by the garden path, looked at them with Menie's

tM„

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

189

mly watch
that she
ast.

iveo while,
tided she,

first."
ave been

Graeme
2re set at

^ht have
f hidden
Js, but I

ering of
n to the
p of the
back on
and yet
?ality of
lie pang-
ler, the

Gorman
seemed

• before
strong

fonnan

• The
elms ;
voice.

nd the
lenie's

eyes. The odcn* of the lilacs by the gate, and of the pine
trees on the hill came with that mysterious power to awaken
old associati(ms, bringing back to Graeme the naemory of the
time wlien they first came to tlic hoiise on the hill, when they
were all at home together, and Monie was a happy child. All
these things renewed their soitow, but not shaqily or bitterly.
It was tlic soiTow of chastened and resigned hearts, coming
back with hopeftil patience to tread the old paths of their
daily life, missing the lost one, and always with a sense of
waituig for tlie time when they shall meet again, but (piite
content.

And Mrs. Snow, watching both the minister and Graeme,
" couldna be thankful enough" for what she saw. But as the
weeks passed on there mingled with her thankfulness an
anxiety which she herself was mclincd to resent. "As though
the Lord wnsna bringing them tlurough their troubles in a
way that was just wonderful," she said to herself, many a
time. At last, when the days passed into weeks, bringing no
color to the cheeks, and no elasticity to the step of Graeme,
she could not help letting lier uneasiness be seen.

" It 's her black dress that makes her look so pale, aiu't
it?" said jMr. Snow, but his face was grave, too.

" I dare say that makes a difference, and she is tired to-day,
too. She wearied herself taking the flowers and things over
yonder," said Mrs. Snow, glancing towards the spot where
the white gravestones gleamed out from the pale, gi-een foliage
of springtime. " And no wonder. Even Emily was over
tired, and hasna looked like herself since. I dare say I 'm
troubling myself when there is no need."

" The children, Will, and Rosie, don't worry her with their
lessons, do thev? "

" I dinna ken. Sometunes I think they do. But she would
weary far more ^^•ithout them. We must have patience. It
would never do to vex the minister with fears for her."

" No, it won't do to alarm him," said Mr. Snow, with em-
phasis ; and he looked very gi'ave. In a little* ho opened his
lips as if to say more, but seemed to change his mind.

190

JANET 8 LOVE AXD SE14VICE.

' 1

r- I

|l^l

"It ain't worth while to worry her w.th it. I don't more
than half bcheve it myseK. Doctors don't know everything.
It seems as though it couldn't be so — and if it is so, it 's best
to keep still about it — for a spell, anyhow."

And ]\Ir. Snow vaguel}' wished that Dr. Chittendon had not
overtaken him that afternoon, or that they had not talked so
long and so gi'avely beneath the great elms.

" And the doctor ain't given to talking when ho had ought
to keep still. Can't nothing Vo done for him? I '11 have a
talk with the squire, anyhow.'

That night IMi*. and Mrs. Snow were startled by a message
from (jrraeme. Her father had been once or twice before
shaqily and suddenly seized with illness. The doctor looked
very grave tliis time but seemg Graeme's pale, anxious face,
he could not find it in his heart to tell her that this was
somotlmig more than the indigestion which it had been called ■
— severe but not dangerous. The worst was over for this
time, and Graeme would be better able to bear a shock by
and by.
The minister was better, but his recovery was very slow —
so slow, that for the first time during a ministry of tlikty
yearS) he was two Sabbaths in succession unable to appear in
his accustomed place in tiie pulpit. It was this which de-
pressed him and made him grow so grave and silent, Graeme
thought, as they sat together in the study as it began to grow
dark. She roused herself to speak cheerfully, so as to win
him from the indulgence of his sad thoughts.

" ShaU I read to you, papa ? You have hardly Ipoked at
the book that Mr. Snow brought. I am sm*e you will like it.
Shall I read awhile."

" Yes, if you like ; by and by, when the lamp is lighted.
There is no haste. I have been thinking as I sat here,
Graeme — and I sho.U find no better time than this to speak
of it to you — that — "

But what he had been thinking Graeme was not to hear
that night, for a hand was laid on the study door, and in an-
swer to Graeme's invitation, Mr. and Mrs. Snow came in,

JANET S LOVE AND 8EKVICE.

191

"just to SCO how tlie folks were getting along," said Mr. Snow,
as Graeme stirred the fire into a blaze. But there was an-
otlicr and a better reason for the visit, as he annouru-ed rather
abruptly after a httle.

'* They 've been talking things over, do^^^l there to the vil-
lage, and they 've conic to the conclusion that they 'd better
send you off— for a spell — most anywhere — so that you como
back rugged again. Some say to the seaside, and some say
to the mountains, but / say to Canada. It 's all fixed.
There 's no trouble about ways and means. It 's in gold, to
save the discount," added he, rising, and laying on the table
something that jingled. " For they do say they arc pretty
considerable careful in loolcing at our bills, u^) there in Cana-
da, and it is all the same to oui* follcs, gold or paper," and ho
sat down again, as though there was enough said, and then
rose as if to go. Graeme was startled, and so was her father.

" Sit dowai, deacon, and tell me more. No, I 'm not going
to thank you — you need not run away. Tell me how it ha^i-
pened."

" They don't think papa so vei^ ill ? " said Graeme, alarmed.

" Well — he ain't so rug":ed as he mioht be — now is he ? "

't>o^

said ]Mr. Snow, seating himself. " But he ain't so sick but
that he can go away a sjiell, with you to take care of him — I
don't suppose he 'd care about going by himself. And Mis'
Snow, and me — we '11 take care of the children "

" And what about this, deacon ? " asked IVIr. Elliott, laying
his hand on the purse that Sampson had placed on the
table.

But Mr. Snow had little to say about it. If he knew where
the idea of the minister's holidays originated, he certainly did
not succeed in makmg it clear to the minister and Graeme.

"But that matters httle, as long as it is to be," said Mrs.
Snow, coming to the deacon's relief. " And it has all been
done m a good spirit, and in a proper and kindly manner,
and from the best of motives," added she, looking anxiously
from Graeme to her father.

" You need not be afraid, my kmd friends," said Mi: Elliott,

JANET 8 LOVE AXD SERVICE.

answering hor look, while his voice trembled. "The gift
shall bo accci)tcd in the spirit in which it is olTered. It gives
me groat plcasui'c."

"And, l\Iiss Graeme, my dear," continued Mr«. Snow,
earnestly, "you necdna look so grave about it. It is only
what is right and just to yoiu* father — and no favor — though
it has boon a great i>leasiiro to all concerned. And surely, if
I'm satisried, you may be."

Sampson gave a short laugh.

" She 's changed her mind about us Merleville folks
lately "

" Whist, man ! I did that long ago. And, Miss Graeme,
my dear, think of seeing your brothers, and their friends, and
yon fine country, and the grand river that Harry tells us of !
It will be almost hke seeing Scotland again, to be in the
Queen's dommions. My dear, you '11 be quite glad when you
got time to think about it."

" Yes — but do they really tliink papa is so iU ? "

She had risen to get a hght, and JMrs. Snow had followed
her from the room.

" 111 ! my dear, if the doctor thought him ill, would he send
him from home ? But he needs a rest, and a change — and,
my dear, you do that yourself, and I think it 's just providen-
tial. Not but that you could have gone without their help,
but this was done in love, and I would fain have you take
pleasure in it, as I do."

And Graeme did take pleasure in it, and said so, heaiiily,
and " though it wasna just the thing for the Sabbath night,"
as Janet said, they lingered a little, spealdng of the tilings
that were to be done, or to be left undone, in view of the
preparations for the joui-ney. They returned to the study
with the light just as IVIr. Elliott was saving,

" And so, I thought, having the prospect of but few Sab-
baths, I would like to spend them all at home."

Janet's first impulse was to turn and see whether Graeme
had heard her father's words. She evidently had not, for she
came in smiling, and set the lamp on the table. There was

P^^

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

193

notliinjif rcassui-ing in the gravity of her husl)and's face, Mrs.
Snow thought, but his words were cheerful.

"Well yes, I vote for Canada. AVo ain't going to behevo
all the boys say about it, but it will be a cool kind of place to
go to in summer, and it will be a change, to say nothing of
the boys."

(Iraemc laughed softly. *' The boys " would not have been
the last on her list of good reasons, for preferring Canada as
the scene of their summer wandcrmgs. She did not jom in
the cheerful conversation that followed, however, but sat
thinking a little sadly, that the meeting with the boys, in
their distant home, would be soiTowful as well as joyful.

If JMrs. Snow had heard anything from her husband, with
regard to the true state of the minister's health, she said no-
thing of it to Graeme, and she went about the preparations
for their journey cheerfully though very quietly. Indeed, if
her preparations had l^een on a scale of much greater magni-
ficence, she needed not have troubled herself about tliem.
Ten pairs of hands were mimediately placed at her disposal,
where half the number would have sen-ed. Her alTairs w^ere
made a personal matter by all her fi'iends. Each vied with
the others in efforts to help her and save her trouble ; and
if the reputation of Merleville, for all future time, had de-
pended on the perfect fit of Graeme's one black silk, or on
the fashion of her grey travelling-dress, there could not, as
Mrs. Snow rather sharply remarked, " have been more fuss
made about it." And she had a chance to know, for the
deacon's house was the scene of their labors of love. For
Mrs. Snow declared " she wouldna have the minister and
]VIiss Graeme fashed with nonsense, more than all their pro-
posed jaunt would do them good, and so what couldna be
done there needna be done at all."

But Mrs. Snow's interest and delight in all the prejiara-
tions were too real and manifest, to permit any of the willing
helpers to be oflfended at her sharpness. In her heart Mrs.
Snow was greatly i^leased, and owned as much in private,
but in public, "saw no good in makmg a work about it,"
9

194

JANETS LOVE AND SKUVICE.

P
1 1'

jiiul, on bolinlf of tlio inini.stcr and his din^lil or, accepted tlio
Ivindncss of tlio pooplo as thoir propter injj^l it and duo. When
Mrs. PajTo idontirted herself with their allairs, and made a
journey to lli.\ford for the purpose f)f procuring the latest
Boston fashion for sleeves, before Graeme's th-css should bo
niad(\ sho preserved the distant civility of manner, with which
that lady's advances were always met ; and hstcned rather
coldly to Graeme's embarrassed thanks, when the same lady
presented her with some pretty lawn handkerchiefs ; but sho
was warm enough in her thanks to Becky Pcttimorc — I bog
lier pardon, INIrs. Eli Stone — for the soft lamb's wool socks,
spun and knitted for the minister by her own hands, and her
regi'ots that her baby's teeth would not permit her to join
the sewing parties, were far more graciously received than
were Mrs. Page's profuse offers of assistance.

On the wholo, it was manifest that Mrs. Snow appreciated
the Idndness of the people, though she Avas not quite impar-
tial in her bestowment of thanks ; and, on th^ whole, the peo-
l^le were satisfied with the *• deacon's wife," and her apprecia-
tion of them and their favors. Nothing could be more easily
seen, than that the deacon's wife had greatly changed her
mind about many things, since the minister's Janet used "to
speak her mind to the Merlevillc folk," before they were so
well known to her.

As for Graeme, her share in the business of preparation
was by no means arduous. She was mostly at homo with
the bairns, or sharing the visits of her father to the people
whom he wished to see before he went away. It was some
time before Will, and Rosie could be persuaded that it was
right for Graeme to leave them, and that it would be alto-
gether delightful to Uve all the time at IMi*. Snow's, and go to
school in the village — to the fine new high-school, which was
one of the evidences of the increasing prosperity of Merleville.
But they were entirely persuaded of it at last, and promised
to become so learned, that Graeme should afterward have
nothing to teach them. About the little ones, the elder sis*
tor's heart was quite at rest. It was not the leaving them

fif—

JANKT S LOVE AND HKRVICE.

195

have

31' sis-

them

ahmo, for they were to be in the keeping of the kind friend,
who had cared for them all their lives.

(Iracnie never ceased to ronicniber those happy di'ives
with her father, on his gentle ministrations to the sick and
sorrowfid of his flock, in those days. She never thought of
the cottage at the foot of the hill, but she seemed to see the
suffering face of the widow Lovejoy, and her father's voice
repeating,

" (rod is our refuge and strength, a very present help in
trouble." Long afterwards, when the laughter of little
children rose where the widow's groans had risen, Graeme
could shut her eyes and see again the suflfering face — the
dooryard flowers, the gleaming of the sunlight on the pond
— the very shadows of the maples on the grass. Then it was
her sorrowful deUght to recall those happy hours of quiet
converse, the half sad, half joyful memories which her father
loved to dwell upon — the firm and entire trust for the future,
of which his words assui'ed her.

Afterwards it came to her, that through all this pleasant
time, her father was looking at a possibility to which her eyes
were shut. lie had spoke of her mother as he had seldom
spoken even to Graeme, of the early days of their marri-.-d
life — of all she had been to him, of all she had helped him
to be and to do. And more than once he said,

" You are hke your mother, Graeme, in some things, but
you have not her hopeful nature. You must be more hope-
ful and courageous, my child."

He spoke of Marian, Graeme remembered afterward.
Not as one speaks of the dead — of those who are hidden
from the si^t, but as of one near at hand, whom he was
sure to meet again. Of the lads far away, he always spoke
as "your brothers, Graeme." He spoke hopefully, but a
Uttle anxiously, too.

" For many a gallant bark goes down when its voyage is
well nigh over ; and there is but one safe place of anchorage,
and I know not whether they have all found it yet. Not
that I am afi'aid of them. I believe it will be well with them

VM\

JAifin s r,(»vi: and .-kumci;.

at last. But in nil tlio (•li!iii}j:f>s tluit niny bo hcforo yon, you
will have iiootl of paiiciuu!. You iiiiiHt 1k^ paliciit. wiili your
brothers, (Iracnio ; and l)o t'aitliful to thoui, love, and never
let them waniler luiehceked from wliat in ri^'ht, for your
mother's Hake and min(\"

He spoke of theii* leavin;jf liom(>, and very thankfully of
the blessings Ihat had followed them since then ; of llie land-
iiess of the people, and his 1()V(^ to them ; and of the luialth
and happines.s of all the bairns, "of whom one has j^'ot homo
before me, safely and soon."

•' Wo mif^ht hav(j come here, love, had your niotlier lived.
And yet, I do not know. The ties of homo and <'ountry are
stronjj, and there was mueh to ki^ej) us there. Her di^parture
made all the rest easy for me, and I am (faitc convinccnl our
coming was for tho best. There is only one tiling that I
have wished, and I know it is a vain thint;." He paused a
moment.

" Of late I have sometimes th(m<^ht — I mean the thought
has sometimes come to me unbidden — that I would like to
rest bosido her at last. But it is only a fancy. I Icnow it
will make no diifcrenco in tho end."

If Graemo grew pale and trembled as she hstened, it was
with no di'oad that she could name. If it was forced upon
her that the time must come when her father nuist leavo
them, it lay in her thoughts, far away. She saw his grave
dimly as a place of rest, when the labors of a long life should
be ended ; she had no thought of change, or separation, or
of tho blank that such a blessed dopai'tiu'C must leave. The
jKjaco whicli had taken possession of his mind liad its influ-
ence on hers, and she " feared Uv vil." **

Afterwards, when the thought of this time and of these
words came back she chid herself with impatience, and a
strange wonder, tliat she should not have seen and under-
stood all that was in his thought — forgetting in her first
agony how much better was the blessed repose of these
moments, than the knowledge of her coming sorrow could
have made them.

JAXICT B LciVr. AND HI! U VICT

H>7

]\V

u il.l .^

Klir wcii

They all pjiswd <li(! rides ami viKits mid tlu; hap[»y talkK
t< >;-••< ;t her. Tlu; |)n'])!iratii)ns iuv tho j-ninicy were, all iiiadt«.
Tlu' <;()C)d-l»y('H were! siiid to all cxctipt to Mrs. Snow and
]']iiiilv. Tli(! list iii;.(lit was come, and (iraonuj went round
he !il',\:i_vs did, io close the doors and windows bcfon;
t io bed. She was tirol, l)ut not too tinsd to lin'^^cr
a littit! while at tlu- window, looking' out upon tlu; scciue, -aow
so I'amili'U* and so dear. The shadows of the elms lay dark
on tlu! lawn, hut the nioonli;j[ht ^deanied bri^dit on the pond,
and on the white houses of the villa-^e, and on the white
stones in the f^a-aveyard, ^n-own precious to them all as
IMenie's resl in^"-plae(\ How peaceful it looked! CJraemc
thou<,'ht of her sister's last days, and joyful lio])e, and
wondered whi(;!i of them all sliould first he called to lie down
by Menie's side. She thought of tlu^ rryivc far away on the
otlier side of the sea, wjiere they had laid her mother with
her baby on Iku- breast; but her I' ou^j^hf s were not all
soiTowful. She tiioujj^ht of the many happy duys that had
come to them since tlu,' tiiMc lliat earth had Im -n left dark and
desolate bv their mother's d(.'c;,th, andrLali/( d for (he moment
how true it v.as, as her father had said to her, that God
suli'ers no sorrow to fall on those avIio ^v'ait on Him, for
which He does not als(^ provide a balm.

*' I will trust and not bo afraid," she nuirmured.

She thought of her brothers, and of the hajipy meethig
that lay before them, but beyond their pleasant holiday .^he
did not try to hjok ; but mused on till her musings lost them-
selves in slumber, and changed io dreams..

At lea;it, she always thought she must have fallen asleep,
and that it was the sudden calling of her name, that awak-
ened her with a start. Siio did not hear it vdien she listened
for it again. She did not think of Rosie t)r "Will., but w ent
straight t(j her father's room. Through the half open door,
she saw that the bed was undistiu'bed, and that her father
sat m the arm-chair by the wiiidow. Tlic lamp bm-ncd
dimly on the table beside him, and on the floor lay an open
book, as it had fallen from his hand. The moonlight shone

198

Janet's love and service.

on his silver hair, and on his tranqml face Th^r. ^
smile on his lips, and his eyes were c" *if fn tep I?

fiom that sleep her father would never waken more.

CHAPTER XX.

IT was a very changed life that opened before the bairns
when Ai'tliur took them home with him to Montreal. A
very dismal change it seemed to them all, on the first morn-
ing when their brothers left them alone. Home ! Could it
ever seem like home to them ? Think of the dwellers among
the breezy hills of Merleville shut up in a narrow brick
house in a close city street. Graeme had said that if they
could all keep together, it did not so much matter how or
where ; but her courage almost failed as she turned to look
out of the window that first morning.

Before her lay a confined, untidy yard, which they were to
share with these neighbors ; and beyond that, as far as could
be seen, lay only roofs and chimneys. From the room above
the view was the same, only the roofs and chimneys stretched
farther away, and here and there between them showed the
dusty bough of a maple or elm, or the ragged top of a Lom-
bardy poplar, and, in the distance, when the sun shone, lay
a bright streak, which they came at last to know as Hari-y'a
grand river. On the otlier side, toward the street, the window
looked out on a brick wall, over which hung gi'eat willow-boughs
shading half the street. The brick wall and the willows were
better than the roofs and chiumey-toiis, Rosie thought; but
it was a dreary soi*t of betterness. From Graeme's room
above were seen still the wall and the willows, but ov(U' the
wall and between the willows was got a ghnipse of a garden —
a very pretty garden. It was only a gUmpsc — a small part
of a cu'cular bit of green gi'ass before the door of a hand-
some house, and around this, and under the wuidows, fiowers
and shrubs of various kinds. There was a conservatory at

(100)

200

JANKTrt LOVi; AND i^KIlVirE.

It'!'

[HI

one end, Imt of thiit t1u\y saw notliinuf bnf, a blitidiiifj^ glaro
when tlio snn shone on it — manv jiaui^H of {^'lasH wlicn tho
sun \vaH •j^on(\ The ^ar(l(Mi Hocnicd to extend beliind tho
house ; bat thev conhl only see a HiM(H)tli f^ravel walk with
an cdjj^e of f^reen. (^lun»i)s of cvcrjjfreens and horse-chestnuts
hid all the iH^st. IJut even these were very b(>autiful ; and
this jjfhnipse of a rich man's {j^arden, from an upi)er window,
was the rodecmiujj^ f(?aturo in their new home.

For it was summer — tho very prime of sunmicr-timc^— and
cxoe])t for that little {jflinipso of j^ardon, and tho dusty maplo
bou«;hs, and tho raj^fifed tops of the poplars, it might just as
well have been winter. There was notliing to remind them
of summer, but the air hanging over them hot and close, or
sweeping in sudden dust-laden gusts down the narrow street.
Yes ; there was the long streak of blue, which Harry called
the river, seen from the upjier window ; but it was only
visible in suimy days, at h^ast it only gleamed and sparkled
then ; it was but a dim, grey lino at other times.

How changed their life was ; how they drooped and pined
for tho sights and soiuids and fri(nids of IMerlevillo.

" If there were but a green lield in sight, or a single hill,"
said Rosie ; but she always added, " how nice it is to liavo
the willow trees and the sight of tho garden."

For Hose was by no means sure that their longing for
gi'cen tields and hills and woods was not wrong. It seemed
like ingi-atitudo to Arthur, this pining for the country and
their old home, and these young girls from tho very first
made a ih'm stand against the homesickness that came upon
them. Not that homesickness is a sickness that can bo cured
by struggling against it ; but they tried hard to keep tho
knowledge of it from their brothers. Whatever happened
duruig the K>ng days, they had a pleasant brcalcfast-hour and
a pleasant evening together. They seldom saw their brothers
at other times during the first few months. Harry's hours
were long, and Arthur's business was increasing so as to
require close attention. This was a matter of much rejoicing
to Graeme, who did not know that all Ai'thur's business was

JANKTS LOVK AND SKUVICE.

201

not strictly profcs.sional — that it was biiHincsH W(!ariHomo
ciiou^^'li, and Koiiiotiitics Inuii^^iiig in but littlo, ];ut alwolutely
iicc('ssiu;y for that littlo'.M .salv(!.

(iraonio and Iiosio wcio at homo alone, and thoy found tho
days h)n^ and to<hous often, thou^^h thoy conHciciitiously
Htrov(f to look at all thiiij^H from thoir hoHt and bri^^'htcHt Hide.
For a \vhil(} they were too busy — too anxJoiiH for tho huch-ohs
of their domestic plans, to have time for lioinoHiclmcsH. But
when the first arran<^'(tments were made — when the taste and
skill of Graeme, and the inexhaustible Htrength of tlioir now
maid, Ncilly Andcsrson, had (•han;^'ed the dinj^y house into as
bright and pleasant a place as might well be in a city
s'reet, then came tho lov.f* dayH and the wearinesH. Then
came upon (Jraemo that which Janet bad pi'ctlict(jd, when
she so earnestly sot her face against theii' going away from
Merloville till the summer was over. Her fictitious strength
failed her. The reaction from all the exertion and excite-
ment of the winter and spruig came upon her now, and she
•was utterly prostrate. She did not give up willingly. In-
deed, she had no paticsnee with Iiersolf in tho miserable
state into whicli she had fallen. She was ashamed and
alarmed at her disinclination to exert herself — at her indif-
ference to everything ; but the exertion she made to over-
come the evil only aggravated it, and soon was quite beyond
her power. Her da\s were passed in utter helplesflncss on
the sofa. She either denied herself to thoii' few visitors, or
left them to be entertained by Rose. All her strength and
spirits were needed for the evening when her brothers were
at home.

Some attention to household afTau's was absolutely noccf*'
sary, oven when the time came, that for want of something
else to do Nolly nodded for hours in the long afternoons
over the knitting of a stocking. For though Nelly could do
whalevor could bo accomplished l)y main strength, the skill
necessary for the arrangement of tho nicer matters of their
little household was not in her, and Graeme was never left
quite at rest as to tho piogi'oss of events in her dominions,
9*

202

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

It was a very fortunate chance that had cast her lot with
theirs soon after their arrival, Graeme knew and acknowl-
edged ; but after the handineas and immaculate neatness of
Hannah Lovejoy, it was tiresome to have nothing to fall
back upon but the help of the untaught Nelly. Her wilHng-
ness and kind-heartedness made her, in many respects, in-
valuable to them ; but her field of action had hitherto been
a tmiiip-field, or a field in which cows were kept ; and though
she was, by her own account, " just wonderfu' at the making
of butter," she had not much skill at anything else. If it
would have brought color to the cheek, or elasticity to the
step of her young mistress, Nelly would gladly have carried
her every morning in her arms to the top of the mountain ;
but nothing would have induced her, during these first days, to
undertake the responsibility of breakfast or dinner without
Graeme's special overlooking. She would walk miles to do
her a kindness ; but she could not step lightly or sjjeak
softly, or shut the door without a bang, and often caused her
torture when doing her very best to help or cheer her.

But whatever happened through the day, for the evening
Graeme exerted herself to seem well and cheerful. It was
easy enough to do when Harry was at home, or when Arthur
was not too busy to read to them. Then she could still
have the arm-chair or the sofa, and hear, or not hear, as the
case might be. But when any eflfort was necessary — when
she must interest herself, or seem to interest herself in her
work, or when Arthur brought any one home with him,
making it necessaiy for Graeme to be hospitable and con-
versational, then it was very bad indeed. She might get
through very well at the tune with it all, but a miserable
night was sure to follow, and she could only toss about
through the slow hours exhausted yet sleepless.

Oh, how miserable some of these HuUry August nights
were, when she lay helpless, her sick fancy changing into
dear famihar sounds the hum that ro.se from the city be-
neath. Now it was the swift spriug-time rush of Carson's
brook, now the gentle ripple of the waters of the pond

Janet's love and seuvick.

203

breaking on the white pebbles of the beach. Tlie wind
among the willow-boughs whispered to her of the pine gi'ovo
and the garden at home, till her heart gi-cw sick with long-
ing to see them again. It was always the same. If the bit-
ter sorrow that bereavement had brought made any part of
what she suffered now ; if the void which death had made
deepened the loneliness of this di'eai-y time, she thd not know
it. ^ill this weariness of body and sinking of heart might
have come tliough she had never left Merleville, but it did
not seem so to her. It was always of home she thought.
She rose uii and lay down with longing for it fresh and sore.
She started from troubled slumber to breal: into passionate
weeping when there was no one to see her. She struggled
against the misory that lay so licaAdly upon her, but not suc-
cessfully. Health and courage failed.

Of course, this stat« of things could not continue long.
They must get either better or worse, Graeme thought, and
worse it was. Arthiu' and Harry coming home earhcr than
usual found her as she had never allowed them to find her
before, lying listlessly, almost helplessly on the sofa. Her
utmost effort to appear well and cheerful at the sight of them
failed this once. She rose slowly and leaned back again
almost immediately, closhig her eyes with a sigh.

" Graeme ! " exclaimed Hariy, " what ails you ! Such a
face ! Look here, I have something for you. Guess what."

" A letter," said Rose. " Oh ! Graeme look ! "

But Graeme was past looking by this time. Her brothers
were startled and tried to raise her.

" Don't iVrthur," said Rose ; " let her he down. She will
be l3etter in a httle. Hariy get some water."

Poor, wee Rosie ! Her hands trembled among the fasten-
ings of Graeme's dress, but she knew well what to do.

" You don't mean that she has been like this before ? ' said
Arthiu', in alarm.

'• Yes ; once or twice. She is tu-ed, she says. She will
Doon be better, now."

In a minute Graeme opened her eyes, and sat up. It waa

l^. ! '!^

204

Janet's love and seevice.

1 '.If

|!| \\

i -1 ':'

• : ':

■ 1

nothing, she said, and Ai'thnr was not to be frightened ; but
thoroughly frightened Arthur was, and in a little while
Graeme found herself i^laced in the doctor's hands. It was
a very kind, pleasant face that bent over her, but it was a
grave face too, at the moment. When Graeme repeated her
assurance that she was not ill, but only overcome with the
heat and weariness ; he said these had something to do with
it, doubtless, and spoke cheerfully about her soon being well
again ; and Ai'thur's face quite brightened, as he left the room
with him. Rose followed them, and when her brother's hand
was on the door, whispered.

" Please, Arthiu*, may I say something to the doctor ? I
think it is partly because Graeme is homesick."

" Homesick ! " repeated the doctor and Arthur in a breath.

" Perhaps not homesick exactly," said Rose ; eagerly ad-
dressing her brother. " She would not go back again you
know ; but eveiy thing is so different — no garden, no hills,
no pond. And oh ! Ai-thur, don't be vexed, but we have no
Janet nor anything here."

Rosie made a brave stand againt the tears and sobs that
were rising in spite of her, but she was fain to hide her face
on her brother's arm as he drew her toward him, and sat
down on the sofa. The doctor sat down, too.

" Why, Rosie I My poor, wee Rosie ! what has happened to
my merry Httle sister ? "

" I thought the doctor ought to know, and you must not
tell Graeme. She does not think that I know."

" Know what ? " asked Arthur.

" That she is so sad, and that the time seems long. But I
have watched her, and I know."

*' Well, I fear it is not a case for you, doctor," said Arthur,
anxiously.

But the doctor thought differently. There was more the
matter ^^^th Graeme than her sister knew, thoagh the home-
sickness may have something to do with it ; and then he
added,

Janet's love and service.

205

" Her strength must have been severely tried to bring her
to this state of weakness."

Ai'thui' hesitated a moment.

" There was long illness in the family — and then death —
my sister's first, and then my father's. And then I brought
the rest here."

It was not easy for Arthur to say all this. In a little he
added with an effort,

" I fear I liave not done well in bringing them. But they
■wished to come, and I could not leave them."

" You did right, I have no doubt," said the doctor. " Your
sister might have been -ill anywhere. She might have been
worse without a change. The thing is to make her weU again
— which, I trust, we can soon do — with the help of IVIiss
Eosie, who will make a patient and cheerful nui'se, I am
sm-e."

"Yes," said Rose, gravely. "I W'ill tiy."

Arthur said somethuig about taking them to the country,
out of the dust and heat of the town.

"Yes ;" said the doctor. " The heat is bad. But it will
not last long now, and on the whole, I think she is better
■where she is, at present. There is no danger. She will soon
be as well as usual, I think."

But it was not veiy soon. Indeed, it was a long time before
Graeme was as well as usual ; not until the leaves on the
willows had grown withered and giey, and the summer had
quite gone. Not imtil kind Doctor McCuUoch had come
almost daily for many weeks — ^long enough for him to become
much interested in both patient and nm'se.

A wonderful nm'se Rose proved herself to. At first some-
thing was said about introducing a more experienced person
into Graeme's chamber, but both Rose and Nelly Anderson
objected so decidedly to this, and aided and abetted one an-
other so successfully in their oj^position to it, that the desig^n
■^^'as given up on condition that Eosie kept weU and cheerful
to prove her claim to the title of nurse. Sbe kept cheerful,

200

JANKTfl LOVE AND SlCUVKJi:.

but slio f^cw tjill and thin, and a great deal too qnict to bo
like iKU'self, hor l)rotlu)r,s thouj^lit ; so whatever was forgotten
or neglected during the day, llo.sie niueit go out with one of
them for a h)ng walk while the other staid with Graeme, and
by this means the health and spirits of the anxious little lady
were kept fi'oni failing altogether. For indeed the long days
and niglits might well bo trying to the child, wlio had never
ne(Hl{>d to think twice about hor own (!omfort all her life, and
who was now quite too acutely sensible, how much the com-
fort of all the rest depended upon her. But she bore the
trial well, and indeed came to the conclusion, that it was
quite as pleasant to be made useful, .to be trusted and con-
sulted, and de]>ended upon, as to be petted and played with
by her brothers. She quite liked the sense of resi)onsibility,
especially when Graeme began to get well again, and though
she got tii'od very often, and grew pale now and then, they all
agreed afterward that this time did Rose no harm, but a great
deal of good.

As for Nelly Andei'son, cu'cumstauces certainly developed
her powers in a most extraordinary manner — not as a nui*se,
however. Her efforts in that line were confined to rambling
excursions about the sick-room in her stocking-feet, and to
earnest entreaties to Graeme not to lose heart. But in the
way of dinners and breakfasts, she excited the astonishment
of the household, and her own most of all. When Arthur
had peremiitorily forbidden that any reference should be
made to Graeme in household matters, Nelly had helplessly
betaken herself to Rose, and Rose had as helplessly betaken
herself to "Catherine Bcecher." Nothing short of the state
of absolute despair in which she found herself, would have
induced Nelly to put faith in a " piinted book," in any mat-
ter where the labor of her hands was concenieil. But her
accomphshments as a cook did not extend the making of
"jjorridge" or the "choppin' of potatoes," and more was re-
quired. So with fear and trembling. Rose and she "laid
their heads together," over that invaluable giiido to inexpe-
rienced housekeepers, and the result was success — indeed a

u'jRirniiflMiRi i>.*Ki.auiM

JANET B LOVE AND SERVICE.

207

iti

and to

in the

iment

bthnr

1 be

cssly

;aL:eu

state

have

mat-

t her

igoi

series of successes. For emboldened by the favorable recep-
tion of their elTorts, Nelly went on and prospered ; and Hose,
content that she should have all the honor of success, per-
mitted her to have all the responsibility also.

Almost every mominpf Hose had a walk, either with Harry
to his office or with Will, to the school, while Arthur staid
with Graciue. The walk was generally quick enouj^h to brinj^
a bright {!olor to her cheeks, and it was always a meny time
if Harry was with hei', and then she was ready for her long
diiy at h(Mne. She sometimes lingered on the way back. Ou
the broad shady pavements of the streets she used to choose,
when she was alone, she made many a pause to watch th(!
httlo children at theu' play. She used to ling(n% too, wher-
ever the ugly brick walls had been rei)laced l)y the pretty
iron railings, with which eveiy good rich man will surround
his gardens, in order that they who have no gardens of their
own may have a chance to sec sometliing beautiful too. And
whenever she came to an open gate, the pause was long.
She was in danger then of forgetting her womanliness and
her gravity, and of exclaiming like a little girl, and sometimes
she forgot herself so far as to let her feet advance fai'thor up
the gravel walk than in her sober moments she would have
considered advisable.

One bright morning, as she returned home, she found lior-
self standing before the large house on the other side of the
street. For the first time she found the large gate wide
open. There was no one in sight, and taking two steps for-
ward. Rose saw more of the pretty garden within than she
had ever seen before. She had often been tempted to walk
round the smooth broad wallcs of other gardens, but second
thoughts had always prevented her. This time she did not
wait for second thoughts, but deliberately determined to walk
round the carriage way without leave asked or given.

The garden belonged to Mr. Elphinstone, a great man — at
least a great merchant in the eyes of the ^\ orld. One of
Rose's amu-iements during the time she was confined in her
sister's sick room was to watch the comings and goings of

I >

liOH

.lAM r H LOVM AM» si;itvi('i;.

U :i

liis ()]ily «'liil<l, !i ^'irl t>ntv n lilllr oMci- Hum TloMd lirrsrlf.
Sotiu-iinirs slic WHS in .-i lilllc pony ciiiriiijfc", wliicli hIk^ (Irov^i
Iiri-Mcll'; s(Mn('l.iiii("s mIi(> wiim in ii. Iiii\';(« «';irriii;;»> driven l>y ii
^;'r!n»»-li)()Kin<',' (•o.'U'InuMn willi a very |.;li>s,sy li;il. iiimI very \vliil<^
f^lov(Vi. IJosic us(>(l l() envy li(>r ii lilM(> wlicn hIic m;i\v li<>r
Wiillun;^ nlionf in llif <.;-Mr(l('n <;;!vllit'rin;^- l.lic llowciH m(. licr own
will.

"Uow hM]>]\v h\\o tntisi, l)t> !" nlu< llion;',lil now, us hIki hIooiI
tj.'V'/inf^ jiltoui licv, "If hIio is (i nico youn;;' Ituly, um I iini
r.lniosi sin'c slir is. sh(> wonld rallicr tluil. \ (Mijoycd li(>r dow-
n's th.-ui nol, A< luiy rale I nni j^'oini^^ l,o wnlk i-onnd jmhI,
on<v — imd l!i(M» <!fo."

lint it was not an <>asy niativr (o ^r\, ronnd llu^ circlo. 11,
was not a xcvy lav;;(' ono, bnl. tlicrc W(>r«> llowcrH all ronnd if,,
and \\oH\o iiasscd slowly on lost, in wond(>r and <l('li;^'Iii, as
8onu* slvanf^;*' blossom pvesrntcd itself. It took a lon;r iiino
to ]iass (|nit(^ ronnd, and before this was aeeoniplislaMl, li(>r
footsteps W(>re arrested by n spleniiid eai'dinal llow(>r, that
{;"rew within the shadow of ih»> wall. It was not (]uit<^ a
stranj^er. Slu» had ;:rath(M"<«d a spi>eies of it often in the low
banks of the.]v>nd ; and as she bent over it with d<'lij;ht, a
voiee startled hiu* —

" You should have seen it a whili> a>.;^o. It i.s ])ast its best
now."

luise turninij; saw the {gardener, and hastily stannnerin;^' an
oxouse, i>repared to «ifo. But he did not 8i>eni to luujerstand
that she was an intrud(H\

"If you'll oonu^ I'ound this way I'll show' yi)u tlowers tlia.t
are worth Uniki ^;^ at," said luv

"He thinks I an\ a visitor," said R(V^o to herself. "I'm
sure I admire his llowers as nmeh as any of th(>m can do.
It won't trouble^ him nnich to show them to me, and I '11 just
go with him."

So picking np her In^nnet that had fallen on the walk, she
followed him, a little fri.i;htened at her own boldness, but
verj' much elate. She tlid not think the gai-deji grew pret-
tier as they went on, and her conductor hurried her j^ast a

-oiiiUMi

•lANl.TM I.oVi: ANf» HKftvniK.

201)

f^'(!at many iircK.y s(|H!ircH iiikI circlcH willnnii {Mvin;^ her iirrin
to lulniim Mk'Hi. II(» Hloppcd iii hinl l»»f'r»r(! a lon^', nHrr()W
Ix'd, wIht*' Mi(( llowcru wriv* •^^•<)wiiif; wil.liont ri'^'iird in rv/^n-
larily aw U> ai'i'aii;^'<MiM'iit, ; luil, oli ! hiicIi ^•(>\(>v'u^<^ ! hiicIi (N'pth
and i'i('lmrHH! Wliaf. v«'rl«iMiw aii<l lu-lioiropc^ ! — wlial jun-
]>l«in — ('riinMoiri -HcarlctiH ! IIoho coiiM only (^';i/,ci aiul won-
dvr and cxj^laini, wliih; licr fii(!nd listcrxd, and waH cvidciidly
well ph'ascd with licr dcli^^dit,.

Af, lant it wan iiitm to ^<>, mid Hosf; nij^'lifid an hIio wiid il,.
]Jiit hIu! tlianbid Iiini willi Hparklin^j ryes for liin kindnrsKH,
iin<l ad(l«'d dcju-cM-atini^'ly —

"•I am not a visitor hero. I Haw tlic irdc. upon and camo
in. I conld n't Inlp it."

It was a Hmall mattcT in her ivw friend vvIietluT Klir-, woio
n visitor at tin; "^rcat Iioiikj! or not.

"You la>n a llowrr vvli(!n you hc.c it," K.iid lie, *' and that's
mor(! than aui be. said of sonu; of tlu! vinitorH licrr;."

]T(! lod tli(i way round the ^'ardcn till tlir-y cMno to a wum-
in(!r-houH() covorod with n flowcriii;.^ vine, whifh wan liko noth-
ing over lloHe had seen bcforti.

"It AvaH just hko wliat a Ijowor on^^lit to ])()," hIio tohl
Graeme, afterwards. "It was just hko a lady's l)ower in a
book."

There was a htth; mound before if, n))f>n wliieh and in tlio
borders close by f^^rew a j^a'csat many tlowers. Not ran; flow-
ers, Hiich as kIh! had just been adniirinj,', but tlowers sweet
and common, pansie.s and thyme, sweet p(!as and irii;.,aionette.
It was Miss Elphinstoiie's own bower, the {^ardeiK^r said, and
these were her favorite llov,-ers. Kose br-nt rjver a pah; little
blossom near the path —

"What is this?" aslced she ; and then .she was sorry, fear-
ing to have it spoiled l)y some long unpronouneGal)le name.

"Surely you have seen that — and you from Scotland?
That 's a go wan."

"A gowan!" She Avas on her knees beside it in a inomont.
" Is it the real gowan, * that glints on bank and brae ' ? No ;
I never saw one ; at least I don't remember. I was only a

,••

210

janet'b lovk and sirvicl:.

child when I camo away. Oh ! liow OracmG woultl like to
see thcin. And I must toll Janet. A reid gowan ! ' Wee,
njodes^, crinison-tqiped flower' — you mind? And hero in a
white one, ' AVith fsilver crewt and golden eye.' Oh ! if
(Iraenio coiUd only see them! Give me just one for iiiy
sister who is ill. 8he has gathered them on the braes at
homo."

" Ahem ! I don't know," said her friend, in a changed voice.
"'I'liese are Miss Elphinstone's own flowers. I wouldna
just liko to meddle with them. But you can ask her your-
self."

Kose turned. The pretty young lady of the pony-cfirri-
age, was standing beside her. Rose's confiLsion was too
deep for words. She felt for a minute as though she must
run away, but thought better of it, and murmured something
about the flowers being so beautiful, and about not wishing
to intrude. The young lady's answer was to stoop down
and gather a handful of flowers, gowans, sweet peas, violets
and mignonette. When she gave them into Rose's hand she
asked,

" Is your sister very ill ? I have seen the doctor going
often to your house."

" She is getting better now. She has been very ill. The
doctor saj's she will soon be well."

" And have you taken care of her all the time ? Is there no
one else ?"

" I have taken care of her, Nelly Anderson and I, all the
day, and our brothers are home at night."

" I am glad she is getting better. Is she fond of flowers.
Mr. Stirling is thinking I have n't aiTanged mine nicely, but
you can do that when you put them in water, you know."

"Oh! thank you. They are beautiful. Yes, Graeme is
very fond of flowers. This wiU Lj like a bit of summer to
her, real summer in the country, I mean. And besides, she
has gathered gowans on the braes at home."

" I am a Canadian," said the young lady. " I never saw
the • gowany braes,' but I shaU see them soon."

1^ - *^

• ' -^*5r3St!!S3BSSS

JANET'S Lf)VE AND SERVICE.

211

They had roachccl the pfatc by this time.

•* Como again, soon. Come into th(! garden, wheuevor you
like. I am sure Mr. Stu'ling will like to show you his
flowers, you are ho fond of them. I thiuk a few of his
would improve your bouquet."

Mr. Stirling touched his hat to liis young lady.

"I shall be proud to show the flowers to Miss Rose, and I
shall have the honor of making her u bouquet soon." The
young lady laughed.

" You are to be a favorite. Is your name Rose," added
she, lingering by the gate.

" Yes, Rose EUiott. I am the youngest. We all live over
there, my brothers, and Graeme and I. It would be a
dreary place, if it were not for the glimpso wo get of your gar-
den. Look, there is Nelly looking for me. I am afraid I have
hindc' : 1 Arthur. Thank you very much, and good-bye."

Rose shyly put forth her hand. The young lady took it in
both hers, and di'awiug her within the gate again, kissed her
softly, and let her go.

"Stirling," said she, as she tm-ned toward the house,
" how did you know the young lady's name is Rose ? is she
a friend of yours ? Do you know her ?'*

" I know her face, that is all. I have seen her for hours
together, looking in on the garden from that upper window.
And whiles she looks through the gate. I heard her broth-
ers calling her Rose. She 's a bonny lassie, and kens a flow-
er when she sees it."

That night, Nelly was startled into a momentary forgetful-
ness of her thick shoes, and her good manners, and came
nishing into Graeme's room, where they were all sitting after
tea, bearing a bouquet, which a man, " maybe a gentleman,"
Nelly seemed in doubt, had sent in with his compliments to
Miss Rose EUiott. A bouquet ! it would have won the prize
at any floral exhibition in the land, and never after that,
while the autumn fi'osts spared them, were they without flow-
ers. Even when the autumn beauties hung shiivelled and
black on theu' stems, and afterwards, when the snows of

212

.lANKT rf LOVE AND SEEVICP:.

'■.I

winter lay many feet above the pretty garden beds, many a
rare hot-house l)lossom brightened the Httle parlor, -where
by that time CJracuie was able to appear.

"For," said Mr. Stirling, to the admiring Nelly, "such
were Miss Eljihinstone's directions before she went away,
and besides, directions or no directions, tlie flowers are well
bestowed on folk that take real pleasure m then' beauty."

The autumn and -winter passed pleasantly away. As
•Graeme gi'ew strong, she gxew content. The cliildren
were well and happy, and Arthm''s business was pros-
pering in a wonderful way, and all anxiety about waj'S and
means, might be put aside for the present. Tlioy often
heard from Norman, and from their friends in Merleville,
and Graeme felt that with so much to make her thankful and
happy, it would be ungrateful indeed 'to be otherwise.

In the spring, they removed to another liouse. It was in
town, but compared with the only one they had left, it seemed to
be quite in the countiy. For the street was not closely built up,
and it stood in the middle of a little garden, which soon be-
came beautiful under the transforming hands of Rose and
her brothers. There was a green field behind the house too,
and the beautiful mountam was plainly visible fi'om it; and
half an hour's walk could take them to m(3re than one place,
where thei'e was not a house to be seen. The house itself,
seemed hke a palace, after the narrow brick one the}- had
just left. It was larger than they needed, Graeme thought,
and the rent was higher than they could well afford, but the
garden was enough to content them with everything else.
It was a source of health, if not of wealth, to them all, and
a r ever failmg source of delight besides. Their new home
was quite away fi'om Mr. Stirling's end of town, but he found
tune to come and look at then* garden every week or two, and
his. gifts of roots, and seeds, and good advice were invalua-
ble.

This was a short and pleasant summer to them all. It'
is wonderful how mucili pleasure can be made out of the
quiet everyday duties of life, by young and happy people on

i* /

JAXET S L()VE AND 8EKVICE.

213

the watch for jilcasfiiit tliinj^s. To Will, and Kosio cvei^tliiiif^
was deliglitfiil. The early marketing with Nelly, to whicli
Graeme and Arthiu', and sometimes even Harry was be-
guiled, never lost its charm for them. I Tarry had lived in town,
long enough, to permit himself to be a little scornful of the
pleasiu'e which the rest took, in wandering up and down
among the vegetables and Ei'uits, and other wares in the
gi'cat market, and made himself merry over Rosie's penchant
for maldug acquaintance with the old French woman and lit-
tle cliildren whom they met. He mystified Rose and her
friends by his free mterpretation of both French and English,
and made the rest merry too ; so it was generally considered
a great tiling when ho could be induced to rise early enough
to go with them.

Sometimes they went in the early l)oats to the other side
of the river, a pleasure to be scorned by none on lovely sum-
mer mornings ; and they would return home with appetites
ready to do honor to the efforts of Nelly and Jliss Boecher.
Sometimes when a hohday came, it was spent by the whole
family, Nelly and all, at Lachuie or the Back River, or on
the top of tlie mountam. All this may seem stupid enough
to them who are in the habit of searching long, and going
far for pleasure, but with the help of books and pencils, and
hvoly conversation, the Elhotts were able to find a great deal
of enjoyment at such hohday times.

They had pleasures of another kind, too. Ai'thur's tempo
rary connection with one of the city newspapers, placed at
their disposal magazines, and a new book now and then, as
well as tickets for lectures and concerts, and there was
seldom a treat of the kind but was highly enjoyed by one or
other of th(Mn.

They had not many acquaintances at this time. In Janet's
esvimalion, the averseness of Graeme to bring herself in con-
tact with strangers, had been a serious defect in her charac-
ter. It was easier to avoid this in the town than it used to
bo in the country. Graeme found. Besides, she had no
longer the sense of parish responsibilities as a minister's

214

Janet's love and service.

•

^ li

5*1

> ■

'■4^

claughtcr, and was inclined for quietness. Once or twice she
made a great effort, and went with an acquaintance to the
" sewing meetings " of the ladies of the chui-ch which they
attended ; but it cost her a gi'eat deal of self-denial to vciy
little pui"posc it seemed to her, and so she compromised the
matter with her conscience, by working for, and being very
kind indeed, to a family of little motherless girls, who hved
in a lane near their house, and staid at home. She was by
no moans sure that she did right. For everybody knows, or
ought to know, how j)raiseworthy is the self-denial which is
wilhng to give up an afternoon every week, or every second
week, to the maldng of pincushions, and the netting of
tidies, which are afterwards to appear in the form of curtains
or pulpit covers, or organs, or perhaps in the form of gar-
ments for those who have none. But then, though the
"sewing-circle" is the generally approved and orthodox
outlet for the benevolent fecluigs and efforts of those dear
ladies who love to do good, but who are apt to be bored by
motherless httle girls, and other poor people, who live iu
garrets, and out of the way places, difficult of acct^is, it is
just possible that direct efforts in their behalf may be accepted
too. One thing is certain, though Graeme did not find it
easy for awhile to satisfy lierseK. as to the " moral quality " of
the motive which kept her at home, the Uttle Finlays were all
the happier and better for the time she conscientiously
bestowed on them and their affairs.

They made some acquaintances that summer, and very
pleasant ones, too. . Arthur used sometimes to bring home
to their six o'clock dinner, a friend or two of his — chents
from the counti-y, or a yomig law:yer, or lawyer's clerk, to
whom the remembrance of his own first lonely days in the
city made him wish to show kindness. There were two or
three gay French lads of the latter class who, strange to say,
had taken a great liking to the grave and steady Arthur,
and who often came to pass an evening at his pleasant fire-
side. Graeme was shy of them for awhile, not being clear
as to the principles and practice of the French as a people,

T."r'a

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

215

very
lome
ients
, to
tho
o or
say,
bur,
fire-
Icar
>ple,

and as for Rose, the very sight of these polite moiistachecl
gentlemen suggested historical names and events, Avhicli it
was not at all comfortable to think about. But these light-
hearted Canadian lads soon proved themselves to be as
worthy of esteem as though Enghsh had been then* mother
tongue. Very agreeable visitors they were, with their nice
gentlemanly manners, their good humor, and their music ;
and far better subjects for the exercise of Rosie's French than
the old market women were, and in a little while they never
came but they wero kindly welcomed.

This was a busy time, too. Graeme taught Rosie English,
and they studied together French and German, and music ;
and were m a fair way, Harry declared, of becoming a pair
of very learned ladies indeed. Very busy and happy ladies
they were, which was a matter of greater importance. And
if sometimes it came into Graeme's mind, that the life they
were hving was too . pleasant to last, the thought did not
make ber unhappy, but humble and watchful, lest that
which was pleasant in their lot should make them forgetful
of life's true end.

,'•

CIIAPTHR XXI.

• • "T"T is just, tliroo yciir.s to-iiif<lit since wo camo t() M.
I Did you rcnionibor it, Arilmr ? *' s.iid (Irjioino, looking
up from her work.

"Is it poswl)lc that it can be throe years?" said Arthur,
in sm'[)rise.

'* It has boon a very happy time," said (Iraeino.

llosc left her bo(5k and came and seated herself on the
arm of her brother's cliair. vVrlhiu* took the cigar from his
lips, and gently puflxnl the smoke into his sister's face. Rose
did not heed it.

" Three y{\irs ! " reiieatod she. " I was quite a child
then."

The others laughed, but Uoso went on without hooding.

" It rained that night, and then we had a gi'oat many hot,
dusty days. How well I remember the time ! Crracmo was
ill and honiesick, and wo wished so much for Janet."

" That was only at first, till you proved yourself such a
wonderful nurse and housekeeper," said Graeme ; " and you
were not at all homesick yourself, I suppose ? "

"Perhaps just a little at first, in tho.se hot, dreary days,"
said Rose, gi'avely ; "but I was not homesick very long."

" I am afraid there were a good many droaiy days about
that time — more than you let me know about," said Arthiu*.

Graeme smiled and shook her head.

" I am afraid you had a good many anxious days about
that tin\e. If I had known how hard you would have to
work, I think I would have staid in Merleville after all."

" Pooh ! Nonsense ! Hai'd work is wholesome. And at
(216)

^-4^

JANKT S I,OVE AND BKRVICE.

217

tlio very wor.st tiiiio, what with one thinp and unolhor, wo
had u hir;^'<'r iiicoiiK! tliaii iny fathor had in Morlovilh;."

" J3ut that was <iiiito difTcront — "

" Did I tell you tliat I liavc got a now chont? I havo dono
business for Mr. Stone before, l)ut to-day it was intimated to
me, that hiiiceforth I am to bo the legal adviHcr of the proa-
jierous firm of ' (Jrovc & Stone.' It will add something to
our income, little woman."

Rose clappcMl lier hands, and stooping down, whispered
something in her brotlier's ear.

" Don't be planning any extravagance, you two, on the
strength of 'Grove &. Stone.' You know any superfluous
wealth we may have, is already appropriated," said Graeme.

" To the ^Slerlevillc visit. But this is not at all an extrava-
gance, is it, Arthur ? " said Rose.

" That depends . I am afraid Graeme is the best

judge. But we won't tell her to-night. Wo must break tho
matter to her gently," said Arthur.

" Graeme is so dreadfully prudent," sighed Rose.

Graeme laughed.

" It is well there is one prudent one among us."

" I don't believe she would at all approve of your smoking
another cigar, for instance. They arc nicer than usual, are
they not ? " said Rose, inhaling the fragrance from her bio
thcr's case.

"Yes. I treated myself to a few of the very best, on the
strength of Grove & Stone. They are very nice. Have one ? "

Rose took it with great gravity.

"Suppose we take a Httle walk first, and smoke after-
wards," said she, coaxingly.

Arthur made a grimace.

" And where will you beguile me to, when you get mo fair-
ly out?"

•' There is no telUng, indeed," said Rose. " Graeme, I am
going to put on my new hat. When Mr. Elliott honors us
with his company, we must look oui* very best, you know."

lo'

218

JANKTfl I.OVK AM) SKKVICE.

il^

"But, Ai'tliur, you have an onj^agcmcnt toniglit. Don't
you remember ? " asked CJraomo.

"To Mrs. Banics'," said Rose. "Miss Crossly brought
homo my dress to-day, and she told mo all about it. Her
sister is nm'so there. Tho party is to bo quite a splendid
affair. It is given in honor of Miss Grove, who has just como
home. I wish I ^^ ere going with you."

" You may go without mo. I will give you my invitation.
It is a great bore, and I don't behove I shall go. I don't seo
the good of it."

"But you promised," said (Jracnie.

" Well, I suppose I must go for a while. But it is very
stupid."

" Just as if you could make us believe that. It must be
delightful. I tliink it 's \cry stupid of you and Graeme, not
to like parties."

" You forget. I was not asked," said Graeme.

" But you might have been, if you had returned Mri^. Barnes'
call soon enough. How nice it would have been ! I wish I
were Miss Grove, to have a party given for mo. She is a
beauty, they say. You must notice her dress, Ai'thur, and
tell me all about it."

" Oh ! certainly," said Arthur, gravely. " I '11 take particu-
lar notice. But come, get your hats. There is time enough
for a walk before I go. Haste, Rosie, before the finest of the
evening is past. Ai'e you coming, AVill. ? Man ! you shouldna
read by that light. You will blind yourself. Put away your
book, you '11 be all the better for a walk."

They lingered a moment at the gate.

" Here is Harry ! " exclaimed Rose. " And some one ^^•ith
him. Charhe Millar, I think."

" We will wait for them," said Ai-thur.

The look that came to Graeme's face, as she stood watching
her brother's coming, told that tho shadow of a now care was
brooding over her, and the hght talk of her brother and sis-
ter told that it was one tliey did not sec. She stood back a

JANLt's love and SEIiVICIC.

219

littlo, wliilc tlioy oxcliangcd gi'cotinfjs, and looked at Harry
Avith anxiona oycfi.

" Arc you going out, Graeme ? " asked ho, coming Avithin
the gate.

" Only to walk. Will you go with us ? Or shall I stay ? "

" IMiss ElUott," interposed Cliarlic Millar, " I beg you will
not. Ho does n't desci-vo it at your hands. Ho is as cross
as possible. Besides, we arc going to D. street, by invitation,
to meet the new partner. He came yesterday. Did Ilany
tell you?"

" Harry did not come home last night. AVhat kept you,
Harry ? " asked Hose.

"We were kept till a most unreasonable hour, and HaiTy
staid with me last night," said Charlie.

*' And of course Graeme staid up till all hours of the night,
waiting for me," said Harry, with an echo of impatience in
his voice.

" Of course she did no such foolish thing. I saw to that,"
said Arthur. " But which is it to be ? A walk, or a quiet
visit at home V "

"Oh! a walk, by all means," said Charlie Millar.

" I have a great mind not to go," said Harry.

" Nonsense, man ! One would think you were aboTit to re-
ceive the reward of your evil deeds. I refer to you, Miss
Elliott. Would it be respectful to the new fii-m, if he were to
refuse to go ? "

" Bother the new firm," said Hari'y, impatiently.

" The new partner, you mean. He has taken a most un-
reasonable dislike to my brother at first sight — calls him
proud, and a snob, because he happens to be shy and awk-
ward with strangers."

" Shy ! A six-footer, with a beard enough for thi'ce. After
that I '11 vanish," said Hany.

" I don't think Harry is very polite," said Rose.

" Never mind. There are better things in the world than
politeness. Ho will be more reasonable by and by," said
Harry's friend.

i]''i

220

Janet's love and skevice.

" So your brother has come," said Graeme. " How long is
it since you have seen hun ? "

" Oh ! not for ten years. He was home once after he came
out here, but I was away at school, and did not see him. I
remembered him quite well, however. He is not spoiled by
his wandei-ings, as my mother used to fear he might be ; " then
he added, as Harry reappeared, " the fact is, IMiss Elliott,
he expected to be asked to dinner. We must overlook his
ill-temper."

" By all means," said Graeme, laughing.

" Thank you," said Harry. " And I '11 try to be patient."

"Well, shall wo go now? "said Ai-thur, who had been
waiting patiently through it aU. The others followed him
and Will.

" Is your brother going to remain here ? " asked Graeme.
" That will be nice for you."

* Yes, on some accounts it would be nice. But if they send
Harry off to fill his place at the West, I shall not like that,
unless, indeed, they send us both. And I am not sure I
should hke that long."

*' Send Harry ! " exclaimed Graeme.

" Nonsense, Graeme ! " said Han-y. " That is some of
Charlie's stuff."

" I hope so ; but we '11 see," said Charhe. " IVIiss Elliott,
I had a letter from my mother to-day." The lad's eyes soft-
ened, as he turned them on Graeme.

" Have you ? " said Graeme, turning away from her own
thoughts to interest herself in liis pleasure. " Is she quite well ?"

" Yes, she is much better than she was, and, ]Miss Elliott,
she sends her love to you, and her best thanks."

" For what ? " said Graeme, smiling.

" Oh ! you know quite \vell for what. What should I have
done, if it had not been for you and Hany ? I mean if you
had not let me come to your house sometimes."

"Stuff!" said Harry.

" Truth !" said Charlie. " I never shall forget the misery
of my first months, till Harry came into oiu- office. It has

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

221

been quite different since the night he brought mo to your
house, and you were so kind as to ask mo to come again."

** That was no great self-denial on oui" part," ' said Graeme,
smiling.

"You minded Graeme on some one she used to know long
ago," said Rose. *' And, besides, you are from Scotland."

Both lads laughed.

" And Graeme feels a motherly interest in all Scottish lad-
dies, however unworthy they may be," said Harry.

And so they rambled on about many things, till they came
to the gate of Mr. Elphinstone's garden, beyond which Arthur
and Will, were loitering.

" How pretty the garden is ! " said Rose. " Look, Graeme,
at that httle gni in the window. I wonder whether the
flowers give her as much pleasure, as they used to give me."

" I am afraid she docs not get so many of them as you used
to get," said Graeme.

"Come in and let me gather you some," said Charlie.

" No, indeed. I should not venture. Though I went in
the first time without an invitation. And you dare not pick
]VIr. Stirling's flowers."

" Dare I not ? " said Charlie, reaching up to gather a large
spray from a climbing rose, that reached high above the wall.

" Oh ! don't. Oh ! thank you," said Rose.

As far down as they could see for the evergreens and horse-
chestnuts a white di'css gleamed, and close beside the little
feet that peeped out beneath it, a pair of shming boots crushed
the gi'avel.

" Look," said Rose, drawing back.

" The new partner," said Harry, with a whistle. "A double
partnership — eh, Charlie ? "

" I shouldn't wonder," said Charlie, looking wise.

*' He knows what he's about, that brother of yours. He's
cute. He knows a thmg or two, I guess."

" Harry," said Rose, gi'avely, " don't talk slang. And I
don't think it very polite to speak that way to ]\L.\ Millar
about his brother."

[

t '

1^7^

222

JANKTrt LOVE AND SEUVICE.

! I

*' My dear Rosio, I am not talking slan^^, but tho puro
American language ; antl I think you are move considerate
about other people's brothers than you are of your owii.
Twice this night I have heard y(jui* brother called cross and
disagrc^eable, without rebuke."

" You deserved it," said Rose, laughing.

" Miss Rose," said Charlie, "let your smile beam on him
for one moment, and ho can't look cross for the rest of tho

cvenmg.

Rose turned her laughing face to her brother.

"Be a good boy, Hariy. Good bye."

As they returned, "NVill. and Rose went on before, whilo
Graeme lingered with Ai'thur.

" Did you hear what Mr. Millar said about tho possibility
of Harry's being sent AVest ? It must bo to take the new
partner's place, I suppose," said Graeme, after a httle.

" No ; did ho say so ? It would be a capital good tiling
for Harry."

" Do you think so ? He would have to leave home."

" Yes ; that would be a pity, of course ; but the opening
for him would be a very good one. I doubt whether there
is much in it, however. Harry has been for so short a
time in the employment of the firm, and ho is very young
for a place so responsible. Still, it may be. I know they
have great confidence in him."

There was a i^ause, and they walked slowly on.

" Ai'thur," said Graeme, in a low voice. " Do you think
Hany is — quite steady ? "

" Steady," repeated Arthur, in a surprised and shocked tone.
" 'Wliy shoidd you doubt it ? "

Graeme strove to speak quietly, but her hand trembled on
her brother's arm, and he knew it cost her an effort.

" I dare say there is no cause for doubt. Still, I thought I
ought to speak to you. You will know better than I ; and,
you must not think that I am unkind in speaking thus about
Harry."

" You unkind ! No ; I should think two or three things

.TANEl'8 LOVi: AND SERVICE.

223

thought that.

But tull mo why you have any

before I
fears?"

" You know, Arthiu', Hurry has been very late in coniuifj
home, a f^ood many times lately; and sometimes he has
not come at all. And once or twice — more indeed — he has
been excited, more than excited — and — "

(iraemc could not go on.

" Htill, Graeme, I do not think there is any real cause for
apprehension. He is young and full of spirit, and his society
is sought after — too much for his good, I daro say. But he
has too much sense to give us any real cause for uneasiness
on that ground. Why, Graeme, in P. street Harry is thought
much of for liis sense and talent."

Graeme sighed. There came into her mind something
that her father had once said, about gallant ships being
wrecked at last. But slie did not speak.

" Shall I speak to liim, Graeme ? What would you like mo
to do ? I don't think there is much to fear for him."

" Well, I will think so, too.. No ; don't speak to him yet.
It was hearing that he might be sent away, that made me
speak to-night. I dare say I am foolish."

They walked on in silence for a little, and then Graeme
said,

" I hope it is only that I am foolish. But wo have been so
happy lately ; and I mind, papa and Janet both said to me —
it was just when we were beginning to fear for Menie — that
just as soon as people were beginning to settle down content,
some change would come. It proved so then."

"Yes ; I suppose so," said Ai'tlmr, with a sigh. "We must
expect changes ; and scarcely any change would be for the
better as far as we are concerned. But, Graeme, we must
not allow ourselves to become fanciful. And I am quite sui"e
that after all yoiu: care for Harry, and for us all, you will not
have to suffer on his account. That would be too sad."

They said no more tUl they overtook the children, — as Eose
and Will, were still called in this happy household.

" I have a good mind not to go, after alL I would much

22i

JANKT 8 LOVE AND REUVICK.

i i !

I •

'.J
.i

rather stay quietly at home," said Arthur, sitting down on tho
wtcpH.

"But you proniiHod," Haid (Jraenie. "You must ^'o. I
will j![et a light, and you need not stay lon;.^"

" You nuiHt go, of eour.se," said Rose. " And (Jraemo and
I w ill have a nieo (luiet ov<niing. I am going to praiitiso the
now music you brought home."

" A (juiot evcnuig," said Will.

•' Yes ; I have rather neglected my music of Into, and
other things, too. I 'm sure, I don't know where the tunc goes
to. I wish I were going with you, ArthiU". '

" You arc far better at home."

" Yes, indeed," said Graeme ; and Will, added,

« A chiM hkc Rosio ! "

" Well, bo sure and look wcsll at all tho dresses, especially
Miss Grove's, and toll me all about them."

"Yes ; especially Miss Grove, if I get a glimpso of her in
tho crowd, which is doubtful."

" Well, good night," said Rose. " I don't bclicvo there
will be a gentleman there to compare to you."

Arthur bowed low.

" I suppose I ought to say there will bo no ono there to
compare with you. And I would, if I could conscientiously.
But ' fine feathers make lino birds,' and Miss Grove aspu'cs
to be a bello it seems, — and many who don't aspire to such
ilistinction, will, with tho help of tho di'ossmakcr, eclipse tho
lltilo Scottish Rose of our garden. Good night to you all —
and Graeme, mind you arc not to sit up for mo past your
usual time."

He went awaj', leaving Rosc; to 'ler practising, Will, to his
books, and Graeme to pace ut» aud down the gallery in the
moonlight, and think her owni tnoughts. They were not very
sad thoughts, though Arthur feared they might be. Her
brother's astonishment at her fears for Han-y, had done much
to roassm'o her with regard to him ; for surely, if there wore
danger for Harry, Arthur would see it ; and she began to be
indignant with herself for having spoken at all.

JANKT'h LOVK and 8KUVI0K.

225

" Arthur will think I am foolisli. Ho will think that I havo
loHt c()nfi(l«>nro in Hiirrv, which is not inio. I wiHh I wcrn
moro hopofiil. I wish I did not tiiko fri^'lit at thn very first
Hhudow. Jjiiu't iiyo said that tlio firnt ^doom of the cloud
trouhh'd iiin more than the fallinjjf of tho Khovvcr hIiouKI do.
Such folly to sn])])()Ko tliat anythinj^ could happen to rrnr
Harry 1 I won't think al)out it. And even if Harry lias to ^'o
away, I will believe; with Arthur, that Avill l)e for tho b(!st. Ho
will bo near Noi'inan, at any rate, and that will bo a fjreat
deal. Norman will bo fjlad. And I will not fear changes.
Why should I ? They cannot como to us ujisent. I will
tmst in (^.od."

• But quite apart from the thouf,'ht of Harry's jcmptation or
prospects, tlicro was in Graeme's heart a sense of pain. She
was not (piito satisfied in lookin*,' back over these plca.sant
years. She foarc^d she had been beginning? to settle down
content with their pleasant life, forgetting higher things.
Except tho thought about Harry, which had come and gone,
and como again a good many tunes within the last few
months, there had scarcely been a trouble in their life during
these two years and more. She had almost forgotten how it
would seem, to waken each morning to tho knowledge that
painful, self-denying duties lay before her. Even household
care, Nelly's skill and will, had put far from her.

And now as she thought about all of this, it came into her
mind how her father and Janet had always spoken of hfe as
a warfare — a struggle, and the Bible so spoke of it, too. She
thought of Janet's long years of self-denial, her toils, her dis-
appointments ; and how she had always accepted her lot as no
uncommon one, but as appointed to her by God. She thought
of her father — ^liow, oven in the most tranquil times of his
life — the time she could remembci best, the peaceful years in
Merleville, he had given himself no rest, but watched for
souls as one who must give account. Yes, hfe was a warfare.
Not always with outward foes. The struggle need not be ono
that a looker-on could measure or see, but the warfare must

be maintained — the struggle must only cease with life.
10*

■

i -

22C

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

had been so with her father, she knew ; and through his ex-
perience, Graeme caught a gUmpse of that wonderful paradox
of the hfe that is liid with Christ in God, — constant warfare
— and peace that is abichng ; and could the true peace be with-
out the warfare? she asked herself. And what was awaiting
them after all these tranquil days ?

It was not the fear that tliis might be the lull before the stonn
that pained her, so much as the doubt whether this quiet
time had been turaed to the best account. Had she been to
her brothers all that father had beheved she v/ould be ? Had
her influence always been decidedly on the side where her
father's and her mother's would have been ? They had been
very happy together, but were her brothers really better and
stronger Christian men, because of her ? And if, as she had
sometimes feared, Hai*ry were to go astray, could she be alto-
gether free from blame ?

The friends that had gathered around them dm*ing these
years, were not just the kind of friends they would have
made, had her father instead of her brother been at the head
of the household ; and the remembrance of the pleasure they
had taken in the society of some who did not think as their
father had done on the most important of all matters, came
back to her now like a sin. And yet if this had worked for
evil among them, it was indirectly ; for it was the influence
of no one whom they called theu' friend that she feared for
Hany. She always came back to Harry in her thoughts.

" But I will not fear for him," she repeated often. " I will
trust God's care for Harry and us all. Surely I need not fear.
I think I have been beginning at the wrong end of my tangled
thoughts io-night. Outward circmnstances cannot make
much diflference, rurely. If we are humble and trustful God
will guide us."

And busy still with thoughts from which renewed trust
had taken the sting, Graeme sat still m the moonlight, till
the sound of approaching footsteps recalled her to the pres-
ent.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE sliining boots crushed the gravel, and the white
dress gleamed tlirough the darkness, some time after
the joung men were seated in IVIr. Elphinstone*s handsome
di'awiDg-room. The master of the mansion sat alone when
they entered, gazuag into a small, bright coal fire, which,
though it was not much past midsummer, burned in the
grate. For Mr. Elphinstone was an invahd, with little hope
of being other than an invahd all his life, though he was by
no means an old man vet.

If he hud been expecting visitors, he had forgotten it, for
they had come quite close to him before he looked up, and
he quite started at the sound of Mr. iMillar's voice. He rose
and received them courteously and kindly, however. IVIr.
Elphinstone in his own drawmg-room was a different person,
or rather, he showed a different manner from Mr. Elphinstone
in his coimting-room in uitercourse with his clerks, and Harry,
who had had none but business intercourse with him, was
struck with the difference. It reqiiired an effort for him to
realize that the bland, gentle voice was the same that he had
80 often heard in brief and prompt command.

Business was to bo ignored tonight, however. Then* talk
was of quito other matters. There war an allusion to the
new partnership, and to Mr. I.Tillar's 1 'i brother, the new
partner, who at the moment, as they all knew, was passing
along the garden walk with a httle white hand on his coat-
sleeve. This was not alluded to, however, though each
thought liis own thoughts about it, in the midst of their talk.
That those of Mr. Elphinstone were rather agi-eeable to him-

(227)

■< - I'

00 Q

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

self, the lads could plainly see. Ho had no son, and that his
partner and nephew should fall into a son's place was an
idea that pleased liim well. Indeed, it had cost him some
self-denial to-night not to intimate as much to him after the
pretty Lilias had withdrawn, and the smile that Harry was
stealthily watching on his face, was called up by tl; j remem-
brance of the admiration whicli his ..Innghter had t vidontly
called forth. Harry watched the smile, and iu his heart
called the new partner " lucky," and " cute," and looked at
Charlie's discontented face with a comic astonishment that
would have excited some grave astonishment to their host,
if by any chance he had looked up to see. Tliough why
Charlie should look discontented about it, Harry could not
well see.

They talked about indiflfcrent matters with a little effort
till the white dress gleamed in the firehght, and a soft voice
said —

"What, still in the dark, papa!"

The lights came in, and Harry was introduced to Miss El-
phinstone. He had shared Rosie's interest in the lady of the
pony carriage, long ago, and had sometimes seen and spoken
with her in >the garden in those days, but he had not seen
her since her return £i*om Scotland, where her last three years
had been spent. A very sweet-looking and graceful little
lady she was, tliough a httle silent and shy at first, jjerhaps
in sympathy, Harry thought, with the tall, bearded gentleman
who had come in with her.

It was evidently Harry's interest to be on good terms with
the new partner, and common politeness might have sug-
gested the propriety of some appearance of interest in him
and his conversation. But ho turned his back upon the
group by the fire, and devoted himself to the entertainment
of their young hostess who was by this tunc busy with her
tea-cups in another part of the room. There was some talk
about the weather and the voyage and sea-sickness, and in
the first little pause that came, the young lady looked up and
said,

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

229

"You don't live in the house opposite now, I think."

It was the first voluntary remark she had made, and thank-
ful for a new opening, Harry said,

" Xo ; my sisters were never quite contented there. Wo
left it as soon as possible ; and we are quite at the other end
of the town now."

"And is your little sister as fond of flowers as ever?"

"Rose? Oh, yes! She has a garden of her own now,
and aspires to rival the pansies and verbenas of Mr. Stirling,
even."

IVIiss Elphmstone smiled brightly.

" I remember the first time she came into the garden."

" Yes, that was a bright day in Rosie's life. She has the
gowans you gave her still. The garden was a great resource
to her in those days."

" Yes ; so she said. I was very glad. I never gathered
gowans among the hills at home, but I seemed to see that
pretty shy face looking up at mo."

" Yes," said Hany, meditatively," Rose was a very pretty
child."

Mr. Millar had di'awn near by this time. Indeed, the other
gentlemen were hstcning toOj and when Miss Elphmstone
looked up it was to meet a very wondering look from the new
partner.

" By the by, Mr. Elliott," said her ffithcr, breaking rather
suddenly into the conversation, " whom did your elder brother
marry ?"

'• MiuTy !'' repeated Charles.

" He is not married," said Harry.

"No? Well ho is to be, I suppose. I saw him walking
the otliL-r day with a young lady. Indeed, I have often seen
them togetuoi", and I thought — ''

"It was my sister, I presume," said HaiTj'.

" Perhaps so. She was rather tall, with a pale, grave face
— but pretty — (juito beautiful indeed.''

" It was Graeme, I daresay. I don't know whether other
people think her beautiful or not."

230

JANi:'! S LOVi: AXD SKKVICK.

Hariy did not say it, but ho was thinking that his sister
scciucd l)cautifiil to thcni all at homo, and his dark eyes took
the tender look of (Iraenie's own as lie thought. It vanished
quiekly as a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and ho
turned to meet the look of the new partner.

" You don't mean that you are the HaiTj' Elliott that sailed
with nu; in the ' Stea<lfast,' ten years ago."

"Yes, I am Harry Elliott, and I crossed the sea in the
* Steadfast' ten jears ago. I knew yon at the first glanec, IVIr.
Ruthven."

"I never should have known you in the least," said IVIi'.
Ruthven. " Why, you were quite a little fellow, and now you
can nearly look down on me."

"I never i\")ut^ht of that," said Hairy, looking foolish.

"And yo\ .>ht the new partner fancied himself too

big a man to kn» ^ on," said Charlie. " And that 's the rea-
son you took lunbriigc at him, and told yoiu* sister he was —
ahem, Harry ?"

Miss Elphinstone'a laugh recaUetl Charlie to a sense of
propriety, and Harrj look(!d nn^re foolLsh than ever. But
Mr. Ruthven did not seem to notice what they were

saymg.

" I never suoiud have known you. I see yoiu* father's look
in you now — and you have your elder sister's eyes. Why did
you not write to me as you promised?"

" Wo did write — Norman and I both, and afterv/ards
Graeme. We nevei heard a word from vou."

"Y^ou forget, it was not decided where you were to settle
when I left you. You promised to write and tell me. I
wrote several times to yom* father's fi'iend in C — , but I never
heard from him."

" He tlied soon after we arrived," said Harry.

" And afterward I heard of a Rev. Mr. Elliott in the west-
ern part of New York, and went a day's jonmey thinking I
had found you all at last. But I found this ^Ir. Elhott was
a very young man, an EngUshman — a line fellow, too. But
I was gi-eatly disappointed."

JANKT S LOVE AND SERVKli:.

231

I settle

10. I

incvcr

west-
ang I
It was
But

Harrj's cyos ^'cw to loolc more like Graeme's than ever,
as they mot Allan's downward gaze.

"I can't toll you how many Mr. Elliotts I have wiitton to,
and then I lioard of your fatlior's death, Ham', and that your
sisters had <^<m() lionic again to Sc^otland. I gave up all hope
then, till last winter, when I heard of a young Elliott, an en-
gineer — Norman, tf>o — and when I went in search of him, ho
was away from home ; then I went another fifty miles to bo
disappointed .again. Thoy told mo he had a sister in a school
at C — , but Rose never could have gro^^^l into the fair, bluo
eyed little lady I found there, and I knew it could not bo
either of the others, so I only said I was sorry not to sec her
brother, and went away."*

Hany listened eagerly.

" I daresay it was our Norman, and the little girl you saw
was his adopted sister, Hilda. If Norman had only known" —
said Harry. And then ho went on to toll of how Norman
had saved tho little girl from the burning boat, and how he
had cared for her since. IJy and by they spoke of other
things and had some music, but tho now partner said little,
and when it was time for the young men to go, he said he
would walk down the street with them.

"So, Charhe, you have found the friends who were so
kind to me long ago," said lus brother, as they shut tho
gate.

"Yes," said Charhe, eagerly, "I don't know how I should
have lived in this strange Lmd without them. It has been a
different place to me suice Harry came to our office, and took
me home with him."

" And I suppose I am quite forgotten."

"Oh, no, indeed!" said Harry, and Charlie added —

"Don't you mind, Harry, your sister Rose said to-night
that I reminded Miss Elliott of some one she know long ago.
It was Allan, I daresay, she meant. My mother used to say
I looked as Allan did when ho went awa}'."

They did not speak again tiU thoy came near the house.
Then Charhe saidrf

|ft

i i1

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■■ >!■ , •

'1:

232

Janet's love and service.

I ^■

" It is not very late, Hany. I wonder whether they are
up yet. There is a light."

"Allan," said Harry, lingering behind, "Marian died be-
fore my father. Don't speak of her to Graeme."

(Iraeme was still sitting on the steps.

" Miss Elliott," whispered Charhe, eagerly, " who is the new
partner, do you think ? Did I ever tell you my half-brother's
name ? It is Allan Ruthven."

Graeme gave neither start nor cry, but she came forward
holding out her hands to the tall figure who came forward
with an arm thrown over Harry's shoulder. They were
clasped in his.

" I knew you would come. I was quite sure that some
time we should see you again," said Graeme, after a little.

"And I — I had quite lost hope of ever finding you," said
Allan. " I wonder if you have missed me as I have missed
you?"

" "We have been very happy together smce we parted from
you," said • Irajine, "and veiy soiTowful, too. But we never
forgot you, either in joy or son'ow ; and I was always sure
thc-t we should see you again."

They went into the house together. Rose, roused from
the sleep into which she had fallen, stood very much
amazed beneath the chandeher.

" You '11 never tell me that my wee white Rose has grown
into a flower like this ?" said Allan.

It was a bold thuig for him to do, seeing that Rose was
nearly as tall as her sister ; but he clasped her in his arms
and kissed her " cheek and chin " as he had done that misty
morning on the deck of the " Steadfast " so many years ago.

" Rose," said Graeme, " it is Allan — AUan Ruthven. Don't
you remember. I was always sure we should see him

again.

They were very, veiy glad, but they did not say so to one
''\.other in many words. The names of the dead were on
their hps, making then' voices trembling and uncertain.

" Arthiu'," said Rose, as they were alj sitting together a

♦ I

Janet's love and service.

233

ago.

day or two after, " yon have forgotten to tell us about the
party."

"You have forgotten to ask me, you mean. Yoa have
been so taken up with your new hero that I have had few
of your thoughts."

Mr. Ruthven smiled at Rose from the other side of the table.

" AVcll, tell us about it now," said she. " You must have
enjoyed it belter than yoti expected, for more than one of
the ' small hours ' had struck before you came home."

" Oh, yes, I enjoyed it very well. I met yoimg Storey, who
has just returned from Europe. I enjoyed liis talk very
much. And then i\Irs. Gridley took mo under her protec-
tion. She is a clever woman, and handsome, too."

" Handsome !" echoed Rose. " Why she is an old woman,
with gTown-up daughters. And if you were to see her by
dayhght !"

They all laughed.

" Well, that might make a difference. But she says veiy
clever, or maybe very sharp things al jut her neighbors, and
the time passed quickly till supper. It was rather late but I
could not leave before supper — the event of the evening."

" I should think not," said Hany.

"Well, we won't ask about the supper, lest it might
make Hany discontented with his own. And what happened
after supper ?"

" Oh ! after supper Mr. Grove and his fiiend Barnes began
to discuss the harbor question, and I very foolishly allowed
myself to be drawn into the discussion. Mr. Green was
there, the gi'cat western merchant. He is a long-headed fel-
low that. You must know liim, Mr. Rathven."

" I know him well. He is a remarkably clever business-
man, and a good fellow ; though, I suppose, few know it so
well as I do. I had a long illness in C. once, and he nursed
me as if I had been a brother. I might have known him for
years in the way of business, without discovering his many
excellent qualities. He has the name of being rather hard
in the way of business, I believe '?"

-1 ' ;i*i-

2.'M

JAXKTS LoVK AND SKRVICK.

i •

fl, !■

"Ho has a clear head of his own," said Arthur, "I en-
joyed a tallc with hiiii very much. He intends visiting
Europe, ho tells me."

" Well, w hat next ?" said Rose, to whom Mr. Green and
his f^ood (qualities were matters of indifference.

" Then I came home. Mr. Green walked down the street
with me."

" And did n't you see Miss Grove, the belle of the even-
ing !" exclaimed Rose.

" Oh, yes ! I had the honor of an introduction to her. She
is a pretty little thing."

" Pretty ! Is that all you can say for the belle ? How
does she look ? Is she fail* or dark ? What color are her
eyes ?"

" I can hardly say. She would be called fair, I think. I
can't say about her eyes. She has a very pretty hand and
ann, and — is aware of it."

" Don't be censorious, Arthur ? Docs she wear cuiis ?
And what did she say to you ?"

" Curls ! I cannot say. I have the impression of a quan-
tity of hail', not in the best order, toward the end of the even-
ing. She seemed to be dancing most of the time, and she
dances beautifully."'

" But she surely said something to you. What did you
talk about ?" demanded Rose, impatiently.

" She told that if she were to dance all the dances for
■which she was engaged, she would n't ' get homo till mom-

mg.

" You don't mean to say you asked her to dance ?"
" Oh, no ! She volunteered the information. I could have
waited so long as to have the honor."

" And, of coiu'se, you can't tell a word about her dress ?"
" I beg yom* pai'don," said Arthur, searching his pocket.
" It must be in my other vest. I asked Mrs. Gridley what
the young lady's dress was made of, and put it down for
your satisfaction. Rosie, I hope, I have n't lost it."

" Arthur ! what nonsense !' ' said Graeme, laughing. " I

JANET 8 LOVE AND SEllVICK.

235

I cn-

am snre IVIrs. Gridloy was laughing in her sleeve at you all
the time."

" She had n't any sleeve to laugh in. But Avhcn I toltl
her that I was doing it for the benefit of my little sister
Kosie, she smiled in her superior way.

" I think I see her," said Rosio, indignantly. " But Avhat
was her dress, after all ? Was it silk or satin ?"

" No, nothing so commonplace as that. I could have re-
membered silk or satin. It was "

"Was it lace, or gauze, or crape ?" suggested Rose."

" Or tarltau or muslin ?" said Graeme, much amused.

" Or damask, or velvet, or cloth of gold, or linsey-woolsey ?"
said Harry.

Arthur assumed an air of bcNVTlderment.

" It was gau/.e or crape, I tliink. No ; it had a name of
three syllables at least. It was white or blue, or both. But
I '11 write a note to IMrs. Gridley, shall I Rosic ?"

'* It would be a good plan. I wonder w hat is the use of
your going to parties ?"

" So do I, mdecd," said her brother. " I am quite m the
dark on the subject. But I was told in confidence that there
are cards to be issued for a great entei-tainment in Grove
House, and I should not wonder if my ' accomplished
sisters ' — as IVIrs. Gridley in her fiiondly way calls them —
were to be visited in due form by the lady of the Grove pre-
paratory to an invitation to the same. So be in readiness.
I think I should write the note to ]Mrs. Gridley, Rosic ; you '11
need a hint."

Graeme laughed, while Rose clapped her hands.

"I am not afraid of the call or the in\itatiou," said
Graeme.

But they came — first the call, which v/as duly returned,
and then the invitation. That was quite informal. jMrs.
Grove would be happy if Miss ElUott and her sister would
spend the evening at her house to meet a few friends. To
their surprise, Harry, as well as Arthur, came home witli a
little pink note to the same effect.

23G

JANET 3 LOVE AND 8KUVICK.

{

" I did n't know that you knew the Groves, Harry," said
Arthur.

*' Oh, yea, I know IMr. Grove in a f(fnor.il way ; but I am
invited through a niistalre. However, I shall go all the same.
I am not responsible for other people's mistakes. Nothing
can be plainer flian that."

"A mistake !" repeated several voices.

" Yes ; IMrs. Grove thinks I am a rising man, hke the
squire here ; and why undeceive her ? I shall add to the
brilhancy of her party, and enjoy it mightily myself. Why
undeceive her, I ask '?"

" Don't be nonsensical, Harrv," said Rose.

" How came Mrs. Grove to make such an absurd mistake?"
Raid Arthur, langhmg.

" She's cute, I know ; still it was not suiprising in the
cu'cumstances. I met her on the street yesterday, and I saw
the invitation in her eyes as plainly as I see this httle pink
concern now ;" and he tossed the note to Rose. " I think I
should send the acceptance to Miss Elphinstone. It was she
who obtained the invitation for me."

" Miss Elphinstone !"

"Yes, or Jack, or both, I should perhaps say. For if
Jack had been at his post, I should not have been politely
requested to call a carnage for Miss Eli^hinstone, and jVIi's.
Grove would not have seen me escorting her down the street
as she sat in her caniage at Alexander's door. I Imow she
was thinking I was very bold to be walking on N. Street with
my master's daughter. Of course she did n't know that I
was doing the work of that rascal Jack. And so I am going
to the Grove party, unless, indeed, there is any objection to
om* going en masse. Eh, Graeme ?"

" It is not a party, only a few fiiends," said Rose, eagerly.

" Certainly, we '11 all go," said Arthur. "If they had not
wanted us all, they would not have asked us. Of course,
we '11 all go for once."

" But, Graeme," said Harry, coming back after he had left
to go away, " don't let the idea of * a few friends' delude

JANETS LOVE AND SEKVICE.

237

you. Make yoiirsolvos as fine as possible. There will bo a
great crowd you may be sure. Miss Elphin.stone and Mr.
Rutlivcn arc invited, and they are not amonj,' the intimate
friends of such people as the (Jlrovcs. Shall I send you
home a fashion book, Rosic ?"

" Or write a note to i\Irs. Gridlev," said Arthur.

Rose laughed. She was pleasantly excited at the prospect
of her first large party, there was no denying it. Indeed,
she did not seek to deny it, but talked merrily on, not seeing,
or not seeming to see, the doubtful look on Graeme's face.
She alone, had not spoken during the discussion. She had
not quite decided whether this invitation was so delightful
as Rosie thought, and in a little when her sister had left tho
room, she said —

" Shall I accept the invitation then for Rose and mo ?"

" Have you not accepted yet ? you need not of course, un-
less you wish But I think 3'ou will enjoy it, and Rosie, too."

"Yes, but I am by no means siu-e, that I hke IVIi's. Grove,"
said she, hesitating.

"Are you not?" said her brother, laughing. "Well, I
have got much farther than you. I am sure that I don't like
her at all. But, what of that ?"

" Only that I don't fancy accepting kindness, fi*om a per-
son I don't like, and to whom I don't think it would be
pleasant to repay in kind."

"Oh! nonsense. The obligation is mutual. Her kind-
ness will be quite repaid, by having a new face in her splendid
rooms. And as for rejiaying her in kind, as you call it, that
is quite out of the question. There are not a dozen peojDle
in to^NTi who do the thing on the scale the Groves at-
tempt. And besides, Rosie would be disaj^pointed."

Graeme did not believe that it was the best thir,:, ^^lat
could happen to Rosie, to be gratified in this mattc^, out
she did not say so.

" After all," thought she, " I daresay there is no harm in
it. I shall not spoil the pleasur of the rest, by not seoining
to enjoy it. But I don't like Mrs. Grove."'

I m

fJ\

r iT f (

■.

i
i

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238

JANKTfi LOVE AND SERVICE.

Tho last words were omplmtieally repeated. Slio did not
like her. Slie did not wish to see her frequently, or to know
her inthnatolv. She wished she had neither called, nor in-
vitcd them. She wished she had followed her first impulse,
which had hecn to refuse at onco without referring to her
brothers. Now, however, she must go with a good grace.

So they all went, and enjoyed it veiy nmch, one and all, as
they found on comparing notes aroimd tho bright httle fir
which Nelly had kept burning, against their return.

" Only," said Hosie, \\ith a little shamefacedness, "I am
not sure that Graeme liked mo to dance quite so much."

Graeme was not sure cither, but she did not think this the
best time to speak about it. 8o slie did not.

" But how y(ni ever learned to dance is a mystery to me,"
said Arthur, " and Hany too, I saw him carrying off liliss
Elphinstone, with all the coolness imaginable. Really, the
young peoj)le of the present day amaze me."

" Oh ! one can dance without learning," said Rose, laugh-
ing. " The music inspires it."

" And I have danced many a time before," said Harry.
" You are not sorry you went, are you Graeme '?"

" Sony ! no indeed ! I have had a very pleasant evening.'

And so had they all. Mrs. Grove had made a great effort
to get a great many nice and clever people together, and she
had succeeded. It had required an effort, for it was only
lately, since his second man'iage, that IVIr. Grove had affect-
ed the society of clever people, or indeed, any society at all.
There were people who fancied that he did not affect it yet,
and who pitied him, as he wandered about, or lingered in cor-
ners among the guests, that his more aspiring wife managed to
bring together. He did not enjoy society much, but that was
a small matter in the opinion of his wife. He was as little
of a drawback to the general enjojanent, as could be exjiect-
cd in the circumstances. If he was not quite at liis ease, at
least, he was seldom in anybody's way, and Mrs. Grove was
quite able to do the honors for both. Mr. Grove was a man
whom it was not difficult to ignore, oven in his own dining-

JANKTS LOVK AND HKIlVICi:.

230

so, at

e was

man

iiiing-

room. Indeed, the ;:>Te.'itcst kinilnoRS that could bo shown
to the poor little man in the cii'cnmstunce.s, was to i.yiioro
him, and a gvcid deal of tliis sort of hind fcelin*^ wan iiiiiiii-
fcstcd towards liiiii hy his fjfnestr-i.

On the first entraneo of Artlnu* and Graeme, their host
fastened on the fonner, reiu'wiii;^' witli fjTeat earnestness a
ccmvcrsation eomiiienrcd in the mornin^jf in the yonn^ man's
offieo. This did not last lonji;', however. The hosless had
too hig'h an oi)inion of ^NTr. Elliott's powers of pleasiiij^, to
permit them to bo wasted on hor husl)and, so she smilinj^ly
earned him off, leaving IVIr. Grovo for the present, to tho
tender niereies of Graeme. Ho might have had a worso
fate ; for Graeme listened and responded with a politeness
and interest to which ho was little accustomed from his wife's
guests. Befcn'o he became unbearably tedious, she was res-
cued by Mr. Ruthven, and i\Ir. Grove Avont to receive IMr.
Elias Green, the great western merchant, a guest far mcire
■worthy of his attention than any of tho fine ladies and gen-
tlemen, who only know him in the character of feast-maker,
or as the stupid husband of his asph'ing wife.

Graeme had scon Allan Ruthven often since that first
night. They had spoken of tlic pleasant and painful things
that had befallen them, since they parted so long ago, or
they might not have been able to walk so quietly up and
down the crowded rooms, as they did for a while. Then they
found a quiet, or rather a noisy corner in the music room,
where they pursued then' conversation unmolested, till Harry
brought Miss Elphinstonc to be introduced to Graeme.

This was a mutual pleasure, for Graeme wished to know
the young lady who had long been Rosie's ideal of all that
was sweet and beautiful, and Miss Elphinstone was as
pleased to become the friend of one whom her cousins iVllan
and Charlie admired so much. And when she begged
permission to call upon her and Rose, what could Graeme
do, but be charmed more and more. Then INIiss Elphin-
stone Avas claimed for another dancC; and who should pre-
sent himself again but then' host, and with him the guest of

240

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

the evening, the great western merchant. Then there were a
few nmutes not so pleasant, and then Mr. Green proposed
that they "should make the tour of the rooms." But
(jracme had not the courage for such an ordeal, and smiling-
ly bogged to bo excused; and so he sat down beside her, and
by and by, Graeme was surprised to find herself interested
in his conversation. Before he had been a gi*eat merchant,
Mr, Green had been a farmer's boy among the hills of Ver-
mont, and when he knew that Miss Elliott had passed seven
happy years in a New England village, he found enough to
say to her; and Graeme listened and responded, well pleased.

She had one uncomfortable moment. It was when the
supper movement began to be made, and the thought flashed
uj)on her, that she must be led to the supper room, by this
western giant. Mr. Ruthven saved her from this, however,
to the discontent of the giant, who had been so engaged in
talking and listening, as not to have perceived, that some-
thing interesting was about to take place. The sight of the
freely flowing cliarapagne gave Graeme a sliock, but a glance
at Harry reassured her. There was no danger for him to-
night. Yes, they had all enjoyed it, they acknowledged, as
they lingered over the fire after their retui'n.

" But, Arthur," said Graeme, " I was disappointed in Miss
Grove. S^.e is pretty, certainly, but there is something
wanting — in expression I mean. She looks good tempered,
but not intcllectaal."

"Intellectual!" repeated Arthur.. "No, One would
hardly make use of that word in describing her. But she is
almost the prettiest little thing I ever saw, I think."

" And she certainly is the silliest little thing I ever saw,"
said Harry, 'liosie, if I thought you capable of talking
such stuff, as I heard from her pretty lips to-night, / would

Arthur laughed ; less, it seemed, at Avhat HaiTy had said,
than at what it recalled.

" She is not lilcely to astonish the world by her wisdom, T.
should tliink," said he, as ho rose to go up staii's. " Nor

JANEt'8 love and SEIIVICE. £41

5::f "' '"• """ """^'••" '^^ "O"^* "-"gting, and loot-

timif "Ta,°/r ' "'■" *^'™'" S"'""' P''"°* "^ ^dom just now, I
>i b.caU.st M Lopt wa:tag. Good night, Ha.,y. ion't sit

I 'jf

f. t

tl u

CHAPTER XXIII.

WHETHER Nelly lost her patience next mominf? or
not, history docs not record • but it is a fact that
breakfast was late, and late as it was, Rosie did not make
her appearance at it. Graeme had still a y pleasant re-
membrance of the evening, but it was not altogether un-
mixed. The late breakfast, the disarrangement of household
matters, Rosie's lassitude, and her own disinclination to
engage in any serious occupation, was some drawback to the
remembrance of her enjoyment. All were more or less out
of sorts, some from one cause, some from another.

This did not last long, however. The drawback was for-
gotten, the pleq,(3ure was remembered, so that when a day or
two afterward, a note came fiom Mrs. Gridley, begging
the presence of the brothei*s and sisters at a smaU party
f^t her house, nothing was said about refusing. Mrs.
Gridley had promised some fi-iends from Toronto, a treat of
Scottish music, and she would be inconsolable should they
disappoint her. But the consolation of Mrs. Gridley was
not the chief reason of the acceptance. Arthur was to be
out of town, but Will, was to go in his place. They went,
and enjoyed it well ; indeed, it was veiy enjoyable.

Mrs. Gridley was a serious person, said her friends, and
some, who had no claim to the title said the same
— the tone and manner making all the difference in the
sense of the declaration. She would not for much, have
been guilty of giving dancing or card pai'ties in her own
house, though by some mysterious process of reasoning,
she had convinced herself that she could quite innocently
make one of such i^arties in the houses of other people. So
(242)

JANET'S LOVE AND SERVICE.

243

^s, and

same

tn tbo

have

ovvn

loning,

jccntly

there v/as only music and conversation, and a simple game
or two for the very young people. Graeme and Kosie, and
Will., too, enjoyed it well. Harry professed to have been
bored.

Out oi these parties sprang others. Graeme hardly knew
how ic happened, but the number of then* acquaintances
greatly increased about this time. Perhaps it was partly
owing to the new partnership entered into by Arthur, with
the long established firm of Black & Co. They certainly
owed to this, the sight of several fine carriages at their door,
and of several pretty cards in then* receiver. Invitations
came thick and fast, until an entire change came over their
manner of life. Regular reading was interfered with or
neglected. Household matters must have fallen into con-
fusion, if Nelly had not proved herself equal to all emergen-
cies. Tne long quiet evening at home became the exception.
They went out, or some one came in, or there was a lectui-e
or concert, or when the sleighing became good a drive by
moonlight. There were skating parties, and snowshoeing
parties, enough to tire the strongest ; and there was no
leasure, no quiet time.

Graeme was not long in becoming dissatisfied with this
changed, unsettled life. The novelty soon wore off for her,
and she became painfully conscious of the attendant evils.
Sadly disinclined herself to engage in any serious occupation,
she could not but see that with her sister it was even worse.
Rose enjoyed all these gay doings much more, and in a way
quite different from her ; and the succeeding lassitude and
depression were proportionably greater. Indeed, lassitude
and depression were quite too gentle terms to apply to the
child's sensations, and her disinclination to occupation some-
times manifested itself in an unmistakable approach to
peevishness, unless, indeed, the party of the evening was to
be followed by the excm'sion of the day. Then the c\il
effects were delayed, not averted. For a time, Graeme made
excuses for her to herself and to her brothers ; then she did
what was much wiser. She determined to put a stop to tho

I ^1

-«««afl(w!imMMn

244

JAJSIETS LOVl:: AND SKRVICK.

?,!'•,'

11 p;
11 ii'

cause of so much discomfort. Several cii-cumstanccs helped
her to this decision, or rather to see the nc cessity for it.
She only hesitated as to the manner in Avhich she was to
make her determination known ; and while she hesitated, an
opportunity to discuss their changed hfe occurred, and she
did not permit it to pass unimproved.

Christmas and New Year's had been past for some weeks,
and there was a pause in the festivities of their circle, when
a billet of the usual form and pui-pcrt was left at the door
by a servant in hvery. Rose, who had seen him pass the
window, had much to do to keep herself quiet, till Nelly had
taken it fi'ora his hand. She just noticed that it was ad-
dressed to Graeme, in time to prevent her from opening
it.

" "Wliat is it, Graeme ? " asked she, eagerly, as she entered
the room where her sister was writing. "I am almost sure
it was left by Mrs. Roxbury's servant. See, there is then*
crest. What is it ? An mvitation ? "

" Yes," said Graeme, quietly, laying down the note. " For
the twenty-seventh."

" Such a long time ! It will be a grand affair. We must
have new dresses, Graeme."

She took up the note and read :

"Mr;j. Roxbury's comphraents to Miss Elliott."

" Miss ElHott ! " she repeated. ""\A1iy, Graeme ! I am not
invited."

*' So it seems ; but never mind, Rosie. I am not going to
accept it."

Rose was indeed crestfallen.

" Oh, you must go, of course. Y'^ou must not stay at homo
on my account."

" No ; certainly. Tliat is not the reasr n. Yoiu' being
invited would have made no difference."

" I could hardly have gone without you," said Rose, doubt-
fullv.

"Certainly not. Neither of as would have gone. If I
don't accept this invitation our acquaintance with the Rox-

JANI:T (3 LOVE AND SEKVICE.

245

homo

being

(loubt-

If I
Rox-

biirys will jierliiips po no further. That woiild be a sufficient
reason for my rcfiisiil, if there were no others."

" A sufficient reason for not rcfusinf,^ I sliould rather say,"
said Kose.

" No. There is no good reason for keeping up an ac-
quahitanco with so iiiiiny people. There is no pleasure iu it;
and it is a great waste of time and strciigth, and money too,
for that matter."

"But Arthur wishes it. He thinks it right."

*' Yes, to a certain extent, perhaps, but not at too great a
cost. I don't mean of money, though in our circumstances
that is something, too. But so muc-h going out has been at
a great s.acrifice of time and comfort to u-j all. I am tired
of it. "We won't speak of it now, however ; I mustlininh my
letter." For to tell the truth, Rosie'sfaco did not look promis-

ing.

"Don't send a refusal till you have spoken to Artlnu',
Graeme. If ho wishes you to go, you ought, you knf)w."

" I am by no means sure of tliat. Artlmr does not very
often go to these largo parties himself. Ho does not enjoy
them. And I see no reason why I should deny myself, in so
bad a cause."

*' But Graeme, you have enjoyed some of them, at least. I
am sure I have always enjoyed them."

" Yes, I have enjoyed some of them, but I am not sure that
it is a right kind of enjoyment. I mean, it maybe too dearly
bought. And besides, it is not the party, as a party, that I
ever enjoy. I have had more real x^leasurc in some of our
quiet evcnmgs at home, with onh* — only one or two friends,

than I ever had at a party, and , but we won't talk about

it now," and she 1)cat over her letter again. She raised her
head almost inniiediately, however.

"And yet, Bosie, I dcm't know why this is not the best
time to say what, for a long time, I have meant to say. We
have not been living a good or wise life; of kite. Do you niind,
love, what Janet said to us, the night befor*' we came away ?
Do you mind the (charge she gave us, to keep our garments

24:6

JANETS LOVE AND SEKVICIC.

iinsj" 5ttccl till wc meet our fallicr .ind mother agaiu ? Do you
tliinlc, dear, the life of pleasure we have been livings, will make
us more like what our mother was, more like what our father
Avishcd us to be — more fit to meet them where they are ? "

Graeme spoke very earnestly. Tliere were tears in her
eyes.

" Graeme," said Rose, " do you think it wrong to go to
parties — to dance? Many good people do not."

" I don't know, love. I cannot tell. It might be right for
some people, and yet quite wrong for us. Certainly, if it
withdraws our minds from things of importance, or is the
cause of our neglecting duty, it cannot bo right for us. I am
afi'aid it has been doing this for us all lately."

Rosie looked gi'ave, but did not reply. In a little, Graeme
added,

" I am afraid our last letters have not given much satisfac-
tion to Mrs. Snow, Rosie. She seems afraid for us ; afraid,
lest we may become too much engrossed with the pleasant
things about us, and reminds us of the care and watchfulness
needed * to keep ourselves unspotted from the world.' " "

"But, Graeme, ever^'thing is so different in Merleville,
Janet cannot know. And, besides, "

" I know, dear ; and I would not like to say that we have
been doing anything very wrong all this time, or that those
who do the same are doing wrong. If we were wiser and
stronger, and not so easily influenced for evil, I daresay it
would do us no harm. But,, Rosie, I am afraid for mjself,
that I may come to like this idle gay life too much, or, at least,
that it may unfit me for a quiet useful life, as oiu* father
would hove chosen for us, and I am afraid for you, too, dear
Rose."

"I enjoy parties very much, and I can't see that there is
any harm in it," said Rosie, a Httle crossly.

" No, not in enjoying them in a certain way, and to a cer-
tain extent. But, Rose, think how dreadful, to become *a
lover of pleasure.' Is there no danger do you think, love ?"

Rose hung her head, and was silent. Graeme went on,

Janet's lovk and sekvice.

247

lave
ihose
and
say it
self,
east,
atber
dear

sre is

I eer-
ie *a
ve?"

*' j\Iy durlin{]f, thf>rc is danger for you — for nic — for us all.
How can we ever hope to win Ilan-y from the society of those
who do liiiu harm, when wo are hving only to please our-
selves?"

" But, Graeme, it is better that we should all go together
— I mean Harry is more with us than he used to be. It
must be better."

" I don't know% dear. I fear it is only a change of evils.
Harry's temptation meets him even with us. And, oh ! Rosie,
if our (^xamplo should make it easier for Harry to go astray !
But we won't speak about Hariy. I trust God will keep him
safe. I believe He will."

Though Graeme tried to speak calmly. Rose saw that she
trembled and gi'ew very white.

" At any rate, Rose, we could not hope that God would
hear our prayers for Harry, or for each other, if we wc re
living in a way displeasing to Him. For it is not well with
us, dear. We need not tiy to hide it from ourselves. We
must forget the last few troubled months, and begin again.
Yes, we must go farther back than that, Rosie," said Graeme,
suddenly rising, and putting her arms about her sister. " Do
you mind that last night, beside the two graves ? How lil tie
worth all seemed to us then, except to get safe home together.
Rosie ! I coiild not answer for it to our father and mother if
we were to Uve this troubled life long. My darling ! we niu it
begin again."

There were tears on Rosie's cheeks, as well as Graeme's,
by this time. But in a httle Graeme sat do^vn again.

" It is I who have been most to blame. These gay doings
never should have commenced. I don't tliink Arthur will ob-
ject to our Uving much more quietly than we have done
of late. And if he docs, we must try and reconcile him
to the change."

It was not difficult to reconcile Arthur to the change.
" Graeme must do as she thought right," he said. " It nmst
be rather a troublesome tiling to keep up such a gcjnerul ac-
quaintance — a loss of time to little pui-pose," and so it would

248

JANliT S LOVE AND SKEVICE.

ill

1 1

J,
1

i \

have ended, as far as he was concerned, if Hurry had not dis-
covered IVIi's. lloxbury's note.

"I declare Mrs. Gridley is right," sjiid he. ""\Vc area
rising" family. I hope you gave that lady a chance to peep
into this note, when she was here to-day. But how is this ?
Miss Elliott. Have you one, Kosie ? "

Rose shook her head.

" No. Have yon, Harry ? "

" Have I ? What are you thinking of. Rose ? Do you suppose
those lofty portals would give admission to one who is only a
humble clerk ? It is oidy for such commercial successes as
Mr. Green, or Allan Ruthven, that that honor is reserved.
But never mind, Rosie. We shall find somctliuig to amuse
us that night, I have no doubt."

" Graeme is not going," said Rose.

" Not going ! Oh ! she 'U think better of it."

" No, she has sent her refusal."

" And why, pray ? "

•' Oh ! one can't go everywhere, as ]\Irs. Gridley say.s," re-
plied Graeme, thus appealed to.

" Yes ; but Mrs. Gridley said that with regard to a gather-
ing of our good fiiend, Willie Birnie, the tailor. I can under-
stand how she should not find time to go there. But how
you sliould find time to shine on that occasion, and have none
to spare for IMrs. Roxbuiy's select affair, is more tlian I can
comprehend."

"Don't bo snobbish, Harry," said Will

" I tliink the reasons are obvious," said Arthiu*.

" Yes," said Graeme, " we knew Willie Bhnie when wo
were chilth-en. He was at the school with vou all. And I
like liis new ^vifc very much, and our going gave them plea-
sure, and, besides, I enjoyed it well."

" Oh ! if you are going to take a sentimental view of the
matter, I have nothing to say. And Willie is a fine fellow ;
I don't object to W^illie, or the new wife citlu>r — quite the con-
trary. But of the two, jieople generally Avould prefer to cul-
tivate the acquaintance of Mrs, Roxbury and her set."

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

240

Ica-

bho

jw ;

|on-

kil-

" Graeme is not like people g-cnorally," said Rose.

"I hope not," said AVill. "And, Harry, Avhat do you sup-
pose Mrs. Roxbury cares about ar-y of us, afar all? "

" fSlic ciu'cs about Graeme going to her party, or slio would
not have asked her."

" I am not sure of that," said Graeme, smihng at the eager-
ness of the brothers. " I sui)poso she asked me for the same
reason that she called here, because of tlie pai-tnership. They
are connected with the Blacks, m some way. Now, that it
is off her conscience, having uivited me, I daresay she will
be just as well i^lcased that I should stay at home."

"That is not the ^' --st bit uncharitable, is it Graeme?"

" No. I don't thinxC so. It certainly cannot make much
difference to her, to have one more or less at her house on
the occasion. I really thuik she asks me fi'om a sense of
duty — or rather, I ought to say, from a wish to be polite to
her fi-iends the Blacks. It is very well that she should do so,
and if I cared to go, it would, of course, be agi'eeable to her,
but it will not trouble her in the least though I stay away."

" Well, I can't but say you have chosen an unfortunate oc-
casion to begin to bo fastidious. I should think the Rox-
bury's would be the very house you would like to go to."

" Oh ! one has to make a beginning. And I am tired of
so much gayety. It makes no difference about its being Mrs.
Roxbuiy."

" Very well. Please youi'self and you 11 please me," said
Hari'y, rising.

"Ai*e you going out to-night, Harry?" said Graeme, t ly-
ing not to look anxious.

" Yes ; but pray don't wait for me if I should not be in
early," said Haiiy, rather hastily.

There was nothing said for some time after Harry went
out. "Will, went to his books, and Rose went to the ])iano.
Graeme sewed busily, but she looked gi'ave and anxious.

" What can make Harry so desirous that you should go to
Mrs. Roxbury 's ?" said Arthur, at last. " Have you any jiur-
ticular reason forniot Avislnng to go ? "
11*

250

JANKT 8 LOVE AND 6EUVICE.

f !

" Do you think Harry really cared ? No ; I have no reason
for not wishing to go there. But, Ai'thur, wo have been going
out too much lately. It is not good for Rosie, nor for mo,
either ; and I refused this invitation chiefly because she was
not invited. I might not have had the courage to refuse to
go with her — as she would have been eager to go. But it is
not good for her, all this party-gouig."

" I dare say you are right. She is too young, and not by
any means beyond being spoiled. She is a very pretty girl."

*' Pretty! Who can compare with her?" said Graeme.
" But she must not bo spoiled. She is best at homo."

" Proudfuto tells mo this is to be a reception in honor of
your friend Ruthven, and Miss Elphinstonc," said Arthui*.
" It seems the wedding is to come oflf soon. Proudiute is a
relation of their's, you know."

" No ; I did not know it," said Graeme ; and in a little she
added, " ought that to make any difference about my going ?
My note is written but not sent."

" I should think not. You are not supposed to know any-
thing about it. It is veiy likely not true. And it is nothing
to us."

" No ; that is true," said Graeme. " Rosie, my dear, you
are playing too quickly. That should be quite otherwise at the
close," and rising, she went to the piano and sat down beside
her sister. They played a long time together, and it was
Hose who was tired first 'for a wonder.'

" Graeme, why did you not tell Harry the true reason that
you did not wish to go to Mrs. Roxbui'y's ? " said Rose, when
they went up stairs together,

" The true reason ? " repeated Graeme .

" I mean, why did you not speak to him as you spoke to
me?"

"1 don't know, dear. Perhaps I ought to have done so.
But it is not so easy to speak to others as it is to you. I am
afraid Harry would have cared as little for the true reason as
for the one I gave."

" I don't know, Graeme. He was not satisfied ; and don't

li !'

JANETS lovp: and skrvice.

251

30.

las

you think it would have been better just to say you didn't
think it rij^ht to go out so much — to hirgc parties, I nieau."

" Perhijps it would have been better/' said Graeme, Ijut
she said no more ; and sat down in the shadow with her Bible
in her hand for the nightly reading. Hose had finished her
preparations for bed bef(3ro she stiri'ed, and coming up behind
her she whispered softly,

" Graeme, you are not afraid for IlaiTy now ? I mean
not more afraid ? "

Graeme started. Her thoughts were painful, as her face
showed ; but they were not of Harry.

" I don't know love. I hope not. I pray God, no harm
may come to Harry. Oh ! Rosie, Rosie, we have been all wrong
this long, long time. Wo have been dreaming, I think. "We
must waken up, and begin again."

I't

lit

CHAPTER XXIV.

GRAE^^IE'S first judgment of Allan Riithven, had boon,
" how these ton years have changed him ; " but she
quite forgot the first judgment when she came to see him
more, and meeting his kind ej'es and listening to his kind
voice, in the days that followed she said to herself, " he ia
the same, the very same."

But her fii'st judgment was the true one. He was changed.
It A\'ould have been strange if the wear and tear of commer-
cial life for ten years had not changed him, and that not for
the better.

In the renewal of intercom'se with his old friends, and in
the new acquaintance he made with his brother Charlie, he
came to know himself that he had changed gi'eatly. He re-
membered sadly enough, the aspu*ations that had died out of
his heart since his youth, the temptations that he had strug-
gled against always, but which, alas ! he had not always
withstood. He knew now that his faith had grown weak,
that thoughts of the unseen and heavenly had been put far
away from him.

Yes ; he was gi-eatly changed since the night he had stood
with the rest on the deck of the " Steadfast," watching the
gleaming lights of a strange city. Standing now face to face
with the awakened remembrance of his own ideal, he Imew
that he had fallen far short of its attainment ; and readinp-
in Graeme's truthful eye "the same, the very same," hi; owu
often fell with a sense of shame as though he were ( .ng

her.

He was changed, and yet the wonder was, that the ^nflu
ences of these ten years had not changed Imn more. The
(252)

jANr:T\s LOVK AND si;rvick.

253

lonely lifo lie hud pictured to Ium friondH, that last nifjjht on
tho " Stc:idt'jist," fell fur short of tho reality that awaited him.
Kemovcd from tho kindly associations of home, and the tran-
quil pursuits and ploasuros of a country villaj^e, to the tur-
moil of a AVestern city, and tho arnioyanco of a Rubordinato
in a merchant's of'lice, ho shrunk, at first, in dis<j^ist from tho
lifo that seemed openinj^ before him. His native place,
humble as it was, had lived in son;^* and story for many cen-
turies ; and in this city Avhich had spruni,' up in a day,
nothing seemed still )lo or secnirc. A few months ago the tiu'f
of the prairie had been undisturbed, where to-day its broad
streets aro trodden by tho feet of thousands. Between gi-
gantic blocks of buildhigs rishig eveiywhcre, strips of the
prairie turf lay undisturbed still. The au* of newness, of in-
completeness, of insecm'ity that seemed to surromid all things
impressed liim painfully ; the sudden prosperity seemed un-
real and uimatural, as well it might, to one Ijrought up in a
country where the first thought awakened by change or in-
novation is one of mistrust and doubt.

All his preconceived ideas of business and a business lifo,
availed him nothing in tho new circumstances in which ho
found himself. If business men were guided in their mutual
relations by any principle of faith or honor, he failed in the
fu'st bitterness of liis disgust to see it. Business lifo seemed
but a scramble, in which the most alert seized the greatest
portion. The feverish activity and energy which were fast
changing the prairie mto a populace ])\a.ce seemed du'ected to
one end, the getting of wealth. Wealth must be gotten by
fair means or foul, and it must be gotten sitddenly. There
was no respite, no repose. One must onward or be pushed
aside, or be trodden under foot. Foiiune was daily tempted,
and the daily result was success, or utter failure, till a new
chance could bo gi'asped at.

" Honest labor ! Patient toil ! " Allan wondered witliin
liimself if the words had over reached the inward sense of
those eager, anxious men, jostling each other in their nevor-
casing struggle.

254

JANET S Lt»VE -AND SEUVICE.

Allan watcliod, ami wondered, and mused, trying to nuder-
stand, unci to make himself chaiitable ovqv the evil, by calling
it a national one, and telling liimself that those men of the
new world were not to bo jujlged by old laws, or measured by
old standai'ds. But there were among the swiftest runners
of the race for gold men from all lands, men whose boyish
feet had wandered over English meadows, or trod the hea-
ther on Scottish hills. Men whose fathers had spent their
lives content in mountaba shealings, with no wish beyond
their flocks and their native glens ; humble artisans, smiths,
and masons, who had passed in their own country for honest,
patient, Godfearing men, prow as eager, as unscrupulous, ais
swift as the fleetest in the race. The very diggers of ditches,
and breakers of stone on the highway, the hewers of wood
and drawers of water, took with discontent thf ■ it was no
more theu* daily wages, doubled or tripled to them, since they
set foot on the soil of the new world.

That there might be another soi-t of hfe in the midst of
this turmoil, he did not consider. He never could associate
the idea of home or comfort with those dingy biick struct-
ures, springing up in a day at every corner. He could not
fancy those hard voices growuig soft in the utterance of
lovmg words, or those thin, compressed lips gladly meeting
the smilmg mouth of a little child. Home ! AVhy, all the
world seemed at home in those vast hotels ; the men and
women greeting each other coldly, in these great parlors,
seemed to have no wants that a black man, coming at the
sound of a bell, might not easily supply. Even the children
seemed at ease and self-possessed in the midet of the crowd.
They troubled no one with noisy play or merry prattle, but
sat on chairs with their ciders, listening to, or joining in
the conversation, with a coolness and appropriateness pain-
fully suggestive of what their future might be. Looking
at these cmbrj'o merchants and lino larlies, from whose pale,
little hps " dollar " and " change " ftUl more naturidly than
sweeter words, Ruthven ceased to wonder at the stniggle
around him. He fancied lie could understand how these

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

255

3se

little people, strangers, as it seemed to him, to a home or oven
to a childhood, should become in time the eager, absorbed,
unscrupulous runners and wrestlers, jostling each other in
the daily stiife.

Rutliven was very bitter and imjust in many of his jutlg-
mcnts during tlie first part of his residence in vJ. He changed
his opinions of many things afterwards, partly because ho
became wiser, partly because ho became a httle blmd, and,
especiaUyj because he himself became changed at last. By
and by his life was too busy to permit him to watch those
about him, or to pronomice judgment on their aims or
character. Uncongenial as he had at first found the employ-
ment which his uncle had provided for him, he pursued it
with a patient steadiness, which made it first endurable, then
pleasant to him. At first his duties were merely mechanical ;
so much writing, so much computing each day, and then his
time was his own. But this did not continue long. Trusted
always by the firm, he was soon placed in a position where
he was able to do good service to his employers. His skill
and will guided their affairs through more than one painful
crisis. His integrity kept their good name unsulhod at a
tune when too many yielding to what seemed necessity, were
betaking themselves to doubtful means to preserve theit
credit. He thoroughly identified himself with the interests
of the firm, even when his uncle was a comparative stranger
to him. He did his duty in his service as he would havo
done it in the service of another, constantly and conscien-
tiously, because it was right to do so. So passed the first
years of his commercial life.

In default of other interests, ho gave himself wholly up to
business pursuits, till no onlooker on the busy scene m which
he was taking part would have thought of singhng him out
as in any respect different from tliose who wero about him.
Those who came into close contact with hun called him
honorable and upright, indeed, over scrupulous in many
points ; and he, stanchng apart from them, and in a certain
sense above them, was willing so to be called. But as one

icRm

25(5

.1 A N I ; r H I ,< » \ !•: and » i; i i \ h • i;.

nuiMnl loucli pilch willioiit. hciii',' (Iclilcd, ho a iniin must.
}icl(l ill liiiii' io ilic iiilliK n(( s ill tlic iiiidnt of wliicli lio li;iM
voliinliirilv pl.iccil liiiiiMcH'. St) il, caiiui lo ])!1.sm lliul, us llio
vr.'ir.s wmt on, Allmi liullivni w.-is };n';i(Iv cliaii;;*!!.

11. iirt'd not \v.i\o hi'cii so. It doiihtlrsM wmh I'jir olliorwis**
with soiiH' who, in his piith? luul i;^'norun('(', lio liiid c.ilh'd
oMrlh-wornis .'iiid worshippi^rs of j;"oM ; for lhoii;^^h, in (hn
lirst bilicnicss of his isol;i(i«)n, h(* \v;is shnv lo (hscovcir il,
UuTo wnc ill lh»' iiiidsi of tlio tiirnioil and slrifo of thai, new
cilv warm h(>;ir(s and hjipjiv hoiucs. and (he l»h>sscd inlhuuico
of tho Christ ian faitli and ihc. Chrisliau hfo. Thcro wcvo
thos(» over wlioni ih(> ^ainsL^cCiin;^ (U'lnon of thd places liad no
jiowrr, hrcausc* «>f a iah^^luau lh(>v held, *ho " consl raining'
lovi' t)f (Mirisi," in thrm. Those wiilkcd thron;^li Jho liro
uns('alh(ul, and, in lh«> niiilsl of iiiiu-h lliat was (l«'lihn<,', kcpl,
thoir ^^arnirnts clean, Ihil, liiilhvcn was not. (MUi of thcin.
H(> had Ihc nanic of lhi> lalisin.in on hi?; hj)s, l)iit. h<> had not
ils hviiij;- pow(>r in his licart. Jl(Mvas a Chrisliaii only in
uiuno ; and* so, when Ihe inllueneo of curly associalions
lu'-^an lo j^Tow W(>a,k, and he l)» <;au lo forj^i'i, as men wiil for
a linu\ hi^i niolher's leachinj^s '* in Ihe house, and hy Ihe way,"
sit (lie "Iviiii;- down aiul tho risinij; up," no wonder that tho
<|ncstionai>le maxims IumivI daily JVt)ui Ihe lij)H of the
>vovhllv-wisc» should I'ome to have weij'ht wilh him ai, last.

Not that in those days he was, in any sense, a lover of
j^ohl for its own sake. Jle never sank so low as Ihat, lint
in Ihe <\-i,i>;erness with wiiieli lie devoted himself to hnsiness,
he left h.mself no linu^ for Ihe performances of olher and
liijjiu'r duties, or for the cult ival ion of Ihose ])rliici])les and
al'teclions wliich ciiii alone pi\>vent the e;i.rn(>st husiness-mau
from dei^i'ucn'atiui!; into a charai'ter so despi( ahle. If he was
not swept away by the stronj^' currout of t«>mptation, il was
because of no wisdom or stren;j;th or fori'sij^ht of his. An-
other ten Years of such a life would have made him, as it
Jias made mauv another — a man outwanllv wovthv of esteem,
but inwaidly seltish, sonUih wi»rldly — all that in his yonlh
bo had most despiseil.

isfc

l!l!4

\v.d

no
liro

(>i)i

• in

ollS

I lor

llio

5ui,

\ss.

as
Ln-

ni,
th

.rA.\i;rs i,o\ r. and f.Ki.-vici;

iir>7

Tliin may scctn (i liard jn(l;.;'ni<'nf, Unl, i(. in l.li«! juil;;i5i»'nt lio
passed on Innisclf, wlirii llicrn canif! a panne in liis hnsy Hie,
jin<l lie looked hacK' over lliosf^ yearn and I'ell/ tliaf. lie did nol,
liold llii' world loo:,ely IJiai lie ('(tnlil iiof open lii ; liaiid and
lei, it .;•.

llion'flil, lliat, lie was iiol, like IIm! men ahoiit liim — conleiit,

He liad lieeii pleasin.L^ liiiiiMelt' all alori;^ wil li 111'

AvilJi I, !i(^ winning' of weallli and ])osilion in Mk; world ; l)iit,
tlicre caine a, tiiiu! win n i!, wan broii.^lit Hlia,r|tly home to liim
iliai willioui MicHC! lie could iiol. ]h\ confeiil,. It was a (M'efit
Hlioeli and Hurprise to liim fo lie forced to realize liow far lin
liiid dril'Ird on willi the current, and how im|»oH^ii)l(! it liad
becomo lo {i^ei hack to lh(! old Hlartinjf-|>lac(^ a;:;a,in, ami in thn
Ivnowled'^c he did not spare himself, hut used liai'dcK and
Kterncr wi;rd!< of self-conlemjit Mian any that nn-. written
licr<'.

]Jnt^iven"H inlerconrwMvifli liiw nnchTu family, I lion'.,di oc-
currin;^' at lon,%' int< rvals, had been of n wvy [ileasant kind,

for I

le w

a.4 a <rreat favo'"'te with his aunt and hin oon

^n^

liiliaH, who was then a child. Jnd(cd, she was only a (;iiild
when lier niolhcr died ; and wlieii there- fell into his hands
!i lett( r written by bis aunt to his mother, dui'in.'f one of his
tirsi visits to IVL, in whic^li half sorionsly, lialf ]>la.yfiilly, was
expressed a wisli that tlu; cousins ini,%'iit onf; day stand in a
iiear(>r and dearer I'elation to onc^ another, he, was {,'really
surprised and amused. I am afraid it was only tlio thoiii^dit
that the band that bad ixmuumI tlio wish was cold in death
that kept him from shockiji^f bis mother l)y lau^'hiii'.^ out-
rii'lit at the i<lea. For what a child Lilias must hav(; b( on
AvluMi that was written, tbou;^dit lu; ! what a child slie was

Htill!

]]ut the, years went on, and tlie cbiM <^'{)\\ into a beautiful
woman, and tlio reniembraiK'e of bis aunt's wisli was pleasant
to Allan liutbven, becaus(> of bis love, and adi.iiration for his

couriii, a!id be«aiis(> of otiier thin;

lb; coiild not lie 1)|ind

to the advanta.^^es that such a connection would ensure to
bini. 'J'hc, n(!W jiartnersliij) was antici]»atel and eiit,e!(rd
upon, on very diU'erent turja;i iVom tliost; which nii;;ht havo

258

JANET'S LOVE AND SERVICE.

been, but for the silent understanding with regai'd to Lilias
that existed between the uncle and nephew. It was no small
matter that the young merchant should find himself in a
position to which the greater number attain only after half
a lifetime of labor. He was at the head of a lucrative busi-
ness, conscious of possessing skill and energy to conduct it
well — conscious of youth and health and strength to enjoy
the future opening before him. Nor was there anything
wrong in this appreciation of the advantages of his position.
He knew that this wealth had not bought him. He loved
his cousin Lilias, or he thought he loved her ; and though
up to this time, and after this time their intercourse was only
after a cousinly sort, he beheved she loved him. The thought
did come into his mind sometimes whether his cousin was all
to him that a woman might be, but never painfully. He did
not doubt that, as years went on, they would be verj' happy
together after* a qaiet, rational fashion, and he smiled, now
and then, at the fading remembrance of many a boyish dream
as to how his wife was to be wooed and won.

He was happy — they were all hapj)y ; and the tide of
events flowed quietly on till the niglit when Allan clasped the
trembling hand of Graeme ElUott Indeed, it flowed quietly
on long after that, for in the charm that, night after night,
drew him into the happy circle of the Elliotts, he recognized
only the pleasure that the renewal of old friendships and tlie
awakening of old associations gave him. The pleasui-e which
his cousiu took in the society of these yoimg people was
fijcarcely less than his own. Around the heiress and only
child of ]Mr. Elphinstone there soon gathered a brilliant circle
of admirers, the greater part of whom would hardly have
recognized the EUiotts as worthy of shaiing the honor with
them. But there was to the young gu-1, who had neither
brother nor sister, something better than biilliancy or fashion
in Graeme's (juiet parlor. The mutual love and confidence
that made their home so happy, filled her with wonder and
dehght, and there were few days, for several pleasant mouths,
in which they did not meet.

Janet's love and service.

259

The pleasant intercourse was good for Lilias. She bright-
ened under it wonderfully, and grew into a very different
creature from the pale, quiet, little girl, who used to sit so
gravely at her father's side. Iler fathe?.- saw the change and
rejoiced over it, and though at first he was not inclined to bo
pleased with the intimacy that had spnuig up so suddenly,
he could not but confess that the companionship of one like
Rose EUiott must be good for her. Graeme he seldom saw.
The long morning calls, and spending of days with her friend,
which were Rosie's dehght, Graeme seldom shared. But she
was quite as much the friend of Lilias as was her livelier sis-
ter, and never did his cousin seem so beautiful to Allan,
never was she so dear, as when, with pretty willfulness, she
hung about Graeme, claiming a right to share with Rose the
caresses or gentle reproofs of the elder sister. lie did not
think of danger to himself m the intercourse which Lilias
shared so hapj^ily. He was content with the present, and did
not seek tq look into the future.

But he was not quite free from troubled thoughts at tliis
time. Li the atmosphere in which he lived things wore a
new aspect to hun. Almost unconsciously' to liimself at first,
he began to judge of men, and motives, and actions, by a new
iTile — or rather, he came back to the old rule, by which he had
measured all things in his youthful days. These days did not
seem so far removed from him now as they used to do, and
sometimes ho found himself looking back over the last ten
years, with tlie clear truthful eyes of eighteen. It was not
always a pleasant retrospect. There were some things covered
up by that time, of which the review could not give unmingled
pleasure. These were moments when he eonld not meet
Graeme's truthful ejes, as with "Don't you remember? " she
recalled his own words, spoken long ago. He knew, though
she «.hd not, how his thoughts of alllfchings had changed since
then ; and though tlie intervening yAirs had made him a man
of wealth and note, there came to him at such moments, a
sense of failure and regi'et, ar» though his manhood liad belied
the promise ot his youth — a strong desire to begin anew

; :

i W

2G0

JANI^T S LOVE AND SEliVICE.

— a longing after a better life than tlicse ten years bad wit-
nessed.

]iut these pleasant days came to an end. Business called
Allan, for a tiiiic, to bis old home in C, and to liis uncon-
genial life there. It was not pleasant business. There was
a cry, louder tlifin usual, of " hard times " through the coun-
try, and the failure of several houses, in which he had placed
iin})licit coniiucnce threatened, not, indeed, to endanger tho
safi'ty, but grcath' to enibaiTass the operations of tho new
llrni. Great losses were sustained, and complicated as their
affairs at the Vv'est had become, Allan began to fear that his
own presence there would for some time l^e necessary. Ho
was smYu-ised and startled at the pam which the prospect
gav(^ him, and befijre he had time to question himself as to
why it should bo so, the reason was made plain to him.

A letter written ])\ his uncle immediately after a partiid
recovei-y from an illness, a return oi which, his physicians as-
sured him nuist prove fatal, set the matter before him m its
true light. The letter was brief. Knowmg httle of the dis-
order into which recent events had thrown their affairs, ho
entreated iVUan's immediate return, for his sake, and for the
sake of Lilias, whom it distressed liim to think of leaving till
he should see her safe Avitli one ^vho should have a husband's
right to protect and console her. It was simi)Iy and frankly
said, as one might speak of a matter full}' understood and a^)-
proved of by all concerned. But the words smote on ^lllan's
heai't with sliarp and sudden pain, and he knew that some-
thing had come into his life, smce the time when he had
liston(Ml in complacent silence to j\Ir. Elphinstone's half ex-
pressed ideas, concerning Lilias and her future. There was
ploasiu'c in the pahi, sharp and sweet while it lasted, for with
the knowledge that came to him, that he lovid (Jraeme I'^iliott,
there came also the lioj|e, that there was so]n(,'thing more
than i;entlt! fru'udiiiiess'in the; fe:'lin,';"s with which she re-
garded him. J3ut the pleasure passed, and Ihe pain remaine:!,
growing Hhar[)er and dcejxn* as lie looked the future in the f ice.

It was not a hopeful future. As for his cousin, there had

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

2G1

passed between them no words or tokens of affection, that
conshis might not very well exchange, at least, he was willing
to believe so now ; and judging her feehngs, partly by his
own, and partly by the remembrance of many a chance word
and action of the last few months, ho said to himself, the
happiness of her life would not be marred though they might
never be more than cousins to eacli other. But this did not
end Iiis doubts as to the course that lay before him, and every
day that In hngered in miserable indecision, made more evi-
dent to him the difficulties of his position. Ho Icncw it was
a son's place that he had got in the firm. He could only claim
it as a son. K his relations to Lilias and her father were
changed, it seemed to him that he could iKjt honorably claim
a position which had been urged upon him, and which he had
gladly accepted with a view to these relations. The past ten
3'ears must bo as nothing to him, except for the cxiierienco
they had given him, the good name they had won for him.
He must begin life again a poor man.

But let mo not be unjust to him. It was not tliis that
made all the miser}' of his indecision. Had all this come m a
tunc of prosperity, or when ^Er. Elphinstone had sti-ength and
courage to^meet disaster unmoved, it would have been differ-
ent. But now, when all thuigs look..'' throateniiig, when cer-
tain loss — possible ruin — lay before them, when the misfor-
tunes of some, and the treachery of others v»'ere making the
vcn' ground beneath their feet insecure, could he leave the
feeble old man to straggle through these dillicult and danger-
ous times alone? He knew his uncle too well to believe that
ho ■would wilUngly accept help from him, their relations be-
ing changed, and he knew that no skill and knowleilgo but
his ovm could conduct to a successfid issue, enterprises under-
taken under more favorable circumstances.

He was very wretched. He could not put away tlie dis-
comfort of his indecision In- permitting time and circumstan-
ces to decide m the course which he nuist talce. AMiatever
was done must be done by him, and at once. There was no
respite of time or chance to fall back upon, in the strait in

202

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

which he found himself. He did not hasten home. He had
cause enough to excuse the delay to himself, and he threw
himself into the increasingly painful details of business, with
an energy that, for the time, left no room for painful thoughts.
But it was only for the time. He knew that his lingering
A\as useless, in view of what the end must be, and he despised
himself for his indecision.

If his choice had been altogether between poverty and
wealth, it would have been easy to him, he thought, though
it forced itself upon him with intense bitterness during these
days, how the last ten years had changed the meaning of the
word to him. But his honor was involved — ^liis honor as a
man, and as a merchant. He could not leave his uncle to
Ktmggle with misfortune in his old age. He could not let
the name, so long honored and trusted in the commercial
world, be joined with the many which during the last few
months had been coupled with ruin, and even with shame.
Ho was respor.sible for the stability or the failure of the
house, which for thirty years had never given cause for doubt
or fear. More than this. His own reputation as a wise and
successful man of business, if not even his personal honor
was at stake, to make it impossible for him to separate him-
self from the alTaks of the firm at a juncture so perilous.

And then, Lilias. Notiiing but her own spoken word could
fi'ce him from the tacit engagement that existed between
them. In honor he could never ask her to speak that word.

Through his long journey of days and nights he pondered
it all, making no decision as to what was to be done or said,
but gro\\'ing gradually conscious as he drew near home, that
the hfe of the last few months, was coming to seem more and
more like a pleasant dream that must be forgotten in the
future. He met his imcle's eager greeting with no word of
change. His face was pale and very grave when he met his
cousin, but not more so than hcr's. But that might very
well be said each of the other. Lihas knew more of the
losses which the firm had sustained than her father knew ;
and Allan might well look grave, she thought, and the watch-

Janet's love and service. 2C3

ing and anxiety for hor father's sake might well account to
him for her sad looks. After the fii-st clasp of their hands
he knew that the vows hitherto imspoken mast now bo ful-
filled.

CHAPTER XXV.

&11AEME did go to j\Ii'.s. Eoxbuvy's piii-ty, and it hap-
pened in this way. The invitations had been sent out
before Mr. Elphinstoms's short, sharp ilhicss, anc^ Lilias had
been made very useful by her aunt on the oecasion. She
had not been consulted about the scnchuj:^ of CJraeuie's invi-
tation, or probably Rose would have had one too, but by
good fortune, as she declared, Ciraenie's refusal came ih'st to-
her hand, and the little lady did a most unprccedcnt<Kl thinj^'.
She put it quietly into her pocket, and going homo that night
by the Elhott's, ventiu*ed to expostulate.

" Fu'st, you must promise not to bo vexed," and then she
showed the note. Graeme looked gi'avo.

" Now you must not be angiy with mo. Rosio, tell her
not to be vexed, bccausp, you know you can wi'ito another
refusal, if you arc deteranincd. But I am sure you wUl not
be so cruel. I can't t(}ll you any reason, except that I have
set my heart on yoiu* being- there, and you '11 come — to please
mo, will you not V"

" To please you, ought to be sufficient reasons, I know,"
said Graeme, smiUng. And Lihas knew she had prevailed
with her fncnd. She saw the acceptance written, and carried
it off to place it with dozens of others, in the hands of INIrs.
lioxbiu'y. She did not say much to Graeme aljout it, but
to Rosie, she triumphed.

*' I want Aunt Roxbiu'y to see Graeme looking her very
best. Graeme will look like a queen among us. Aunt will
SCO that Allan and I have good reasons for oiu* admiration.
Fancy any of these tnimpery people patronizing Graeme !
But you are not to tell her what I say. You don't think sho

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

Ln;5

WRH really vexed with me, do you ? And she luunt w«>iir her
now peach-blossom silk. I am so f^lad."

liut poor little Lilian ^vc•nt thrnu^'h deep waters, bf^Con.'tho
peach-blossom sillc was worn by Graeme. Mr. E>[)hiustone
was broujj^ht very near the gates of death, and anxicjus day ,4
and ni<jhts were i^assed by his daughter at his bedside. !!\Irs.
lloxbury would have recalled her invitations, and Lilias*
soul sickened at the thought of the entertainment ; but
when the in)mcdiate danger was over, events fell into their
usual channel, and though she gave no more assistance, either
by word or deed, her aunt counted on her presence on tho
ogcasion, and even her father insisted that it was right for
hor to go.

"And so, my love," said Mrs. Roxbury, "as yom* father
and I see no improi^riety in your coming, there can ho none,
and you will enjoy it, indeed you will. You are tired now."

" Impropriety ! it is not that. I don't wish to go. I can-
not bear the thought of going."

" Nonsense ! vou are overtired, that is all. And Mr. Ruth-
ven will be here by that time, and I depend on you to bring
him."

But if Allan's presence had depended on Lilias, ]\L.'s. Rt/::-
bui'y would not have seen him in her splendid rooms that;
night. It was INIr. Elphinstone that reminded her of tho
note that awaited the retmTi of her cousin, and it was he
who insisted that they should appear, for at least an Iv .\\r
or two, at the party. And they went together, a little con-
strained and uncomfortable, while they were alone, but to all
appearance at their ease, and content with one another
when they entered the room. Graeme saw them the moment
they came in, and she saw, too, many a significant glance
exchanged, as they made their way together to ]\L*,s. Rox-
bury.

Lilias saw^ Graeme almost as soon. She was standing
near the ft)lding doors, seemingly much int(^restcd in \\hat
Mr. Proudfute, her brother's friend, was sayuig t(i her.

"There, aunt," said Lilias, eagerly, when the greetings
12

I'-'

2G6

JANKT S T.oVK AND >r,iaiCi:.

' t

woro over, " did I not toll you thai my IVimd ]\riMs lilliott,
would C('lii)sc III! hero to-in<;lit V Look at licr now."

"My dear," Hiiid her aunt, "she dixs Ixttcr tliun tliaf.
Slio is vory lovely and lady-like, and tries to ecliiiHO no one,
ftnd HO wiuH all hearts."

Lilias' eyes sparkh^d as she looked lit her cousin, hut ho
did not eateh her look.

" My dear," continued jMra. Roxhuiy, "I have news for
you, but [K'rhaps, it is no news to you. Ah ! he has found
her."

Mr. Ehas Green was at the moment, niakin{^ his bow to
Graeme. •

"There was no truth in the rumor, about him and little
Miss Grove. ' .rccn hiis more sense. Your friend is for-
tunate Lilias."

Lilias looked at her aunt in astonishment, but nothing"
more could be said, for tliere were more arrivals, and her at-
tention was claimed.

" Aunt Roxbuiy docs not know what she is ta".in,t»' about,"
said she, to her cousin, as he led her awav. " The idea of
Mr. Green's darin<t to lift his cjes to Graeme Elliott. She
would not look at him."

" Ml*. Green is a gi'eat man in his own circle, I can assure
you," said I\Ir. Ruthven. " ^Nliss Elliott will be thou;^;ht for-
tunate by peopk^ generally."

" Do you tliink so ? You know very little about her, if you
think that," said Lilias, impatiently.

"I know ]Mr. Green better than most people do, and I re-
spect him — and he is verv' ricli "

" Oh! don't talk folly," cried Lilias. " I have no patience

with people who tliink, because a man is rich , But you

don't know Graeme, cousin Allan — I thon.i^'lit "

They were very near Graeme by this time. She turned at
the moment, and greeted them frankly cnouf^h, as far as any
one could see. She noticed the cloud on Lilias' f;vce, and
'.'.sked her if she was quite well; she expressed pleasure at

JANKT.S I-OVK ANI> SKIiVICK.

207

tho rotuni of Mr. Ivuthvcii too, but hIio did not moot liis oyo,
t.liou,.(li li(! told lur ho liiid Ktcii lior brotlior Nonuiiu ut a
Kt.'itioii l»v till! way, and dctaiiu'd her to j^ivo lior a iiiiisHn^^o
tliat ho liad Hont. Ho had Hchoolod huusolf woU, if h(! was
roally as nninovcd l)y tho words Of Mrs. Roxhury and Lilias,
ftH to his cousin ho a])poarod to bo. But ho was not a num
wlio h't his thou^^'hts write tlionisohcs on liis face, and she
ini}i;ht oasily bo doccivod. It was not a pleasant nioniout, it
was a very bitter moment indeed, to him, when with a smilo
to them, (IraeiiK^ jHaccd lier hand on tho wiUin*!; arm of
I^rr. (Ireeii, and walked away "like a (luoen" he said to him-
self, but to his cousin lu; said —

" My fiiend will be a very happy man, and your friend
may be liappy too, let us hope."

But Lilias never answered a word. She followed them
•with her oy( s, till they tlisappeared throu;,'h the door that
led to tho room beyond, and then she said onlv,

"I have made a f^reat mistake."

Had she made a mistake or had he? A mistake never to
be luidonc, never outlived — a mistake for (iraeme, for him-
fiolf, perhaps for Lilias too. It was not a thouj^^ht to bo
borne, and he put it from him sternly, saying it could not
have been otherwise — nothiufj could bo changed now ; and
he was very {jfontle and tender with his litth) cousin that
night and afterwards, saying to himself that she, at least,
should have no cause to grieve in the futui'c, if his having
care for her could avail.

About this time "SVill. was threatened with a serious illness.
It did not prove so serious as they at first feared, but it was
long and tedious, and gave his eldest sister an excuse for
denying herself to many who called, and accounted for her
pale looks to tliose whom she was obliged to see. Li tho
silence of her brother's sicli-room, Graeme looked a great
sorrow in the face. In other circumstances, with the neces-
sity laid upon her to deci-ive others, she might for a time
have deceived herself ; for the kno\\ledge that one's love has

< )

268

JANKT 8 LOVE AND 8I:RVICE.

Ul'

been pivcn unsoup;lit, is too l)itt(>r to bo accepted willingly.
But th(^ misery of those long silent nights made plain to her
what theiirst sharp pang hail failed to teach her.

Li tlio iirst agony of her self-seorn, she saw herself without
excuse. She was hard and bitter to herself. She might
liavo known, she thought, how it was with Allan and
his cousin. Dming all those years in which she had becu
a stranger to them both, they had loved each other ; and
now, with no thought of her, they loved each other still. It
was natmal that it should be so, and ri^jht. ^Vhat was she,
to think to come between them with her lovo ?

She v.as vciy bitter to herself and unjust in her first
misery, but her feeling ciianged. Her heart rebelled against
her own verdict. She had not acted an unmaidenly jiarfc in
the matter. She had never thought of hann coming to her,
or to anyone, out of the pleasant intercom'se of these months
— the renewal of their old friendship. If she had sinned
against Lilias, it had been unconsciously. She had never
thought of these things in those days.

If sho had only known him sooner, she thought, or not
so soon, (.r not at all ! How should she ever bo able to see
them again in the old unrestrained way ? How should sho
be able to live a Ufe changed and empty of all pleasure ?

Then she gi-cw bitter agahi, and called herself hard
names for her folly, in thinking that a change in one thing
nmst change all her life. Would not the passing away of
this vain dream leave her as rich in the love of brothers and
sister as ever? Hitherto th(ur love had sufficed for her
haiipinosH, and it should stQl sufKce. The world need not
be changed to her, because she had wished for one thing thnt
she could not have. She could be f:-eed from no duty, iVb-
solved from no obligation Ix'cuise of this ])ain ; it wan a i>art
of her life, which sh(> must accept and make the best of, as
tjhe did of all other things tliat came upon her.

As she sat one night thinking over the ])ast and the future,
wearily enough, but without the power to withdraw her mind
fi'om what was sad in them, there suddenly came back to

s^ '^<i^

jani:t s lovi: and service.

209

her ono of Janet's short, sharj) speccbca, spoken in answer to
a declaration half vcxeil, half mirthful, made hy her in tho
days when the mild Mr. Foster had aspired to be more to
her than a friend.

" My dear," slie had said, " bide tUl your time comes. You
arc but a v.oman like the lave, and you maim thole the brunt
of what life may brin<^'. Love ! Ay will you, and that with-
out leave asked or given. And if you got love f<ir love,
you'll thank God humbly for one of his best gifts ; and if
you do not — well, He can brinfj you through without it, as
He has done many a one 1>< fore. Uut never think you can
escape your fate, and make Che best of it when it comes."

" And so my fate has found me," munnui-ed Graeme to
herself. " This is part of my life, and I must make the best
of it. Well, he can bring me through, as Janet said."

"Graeme," said Will., suddenly, "what are you thinking
about ? "

Graeme started painfully. She had quite forgotten Will.
Those bright, wakeful eyes of his had been on her many a
time when slie thought he was asleep.

" What were you thinking about ? You smil od fu'st, then
you sighed."

" Did I ? Well, I was not aware that I was either smiling
or sighing. I was thinking about Janet, and about somc-
thhig that she said to me once."

She r^so nnd arranged the pillows, stooping down to kiss
her biotiie* as she did so, and then she said sadly,

"1 an afraid vou are not much bettor to-night, Will."

* \os ; 1 think I am better. i\Iy head is dearer. I have
been watching your face, Gracn)e, and tliinking how weary
and ill you look."

"lam tired AVili., Imt not ill." Graeme did not like
the idea of her face havirig been watched, but she spoke
cheerfully.

" I have been a girat trouble to you," said Will.

"Yes, indeed! a dreadful trouble. I hope you are not
going to try my patience much longer."

270

.iani:ts Lovi; and skuvick.

" I don't, Icnow. I liopo nof, foi* yonr sako." And then in
a liltlo Will, added, "Do vou know, (inKMuCj I vm beginning'
•to 1)0 ^Lid of this illness at'ler uU."

(ira( ;'.!( lau;^hed.

" W(>11. if you are ^lad oi it, I will try and bear it i)ationtly
a little l(.n<j;er, I daresay wo aro takini; the veiy host moans
to prolon"^ it, chattering- at this unrcasonaMe hour."

"I am not sleepy,"' said Will, "and I am not^resth^ss
either. [ think I am really better, and it will do mo ^'ood to
have .1 litth? tallc ; l)ut you aro tired."

" I am tin (1, but I am not slee[<y. Besides, if yoii aro
n^illy betl'T, I can sle<^p for a week, if I liko. So, if it bo a
pleasure to you sj^eak on."

"What was it that .Jan(>t said tliat mado you sigh so
drearily just now? " ask«(l Will.

(Jraemo would have liked tlio conversation to tako any
other tiUMi rather than that, but she said, jj^ently,

"I think my smik' nuist have been for what Janet said.
I am snre I lauL(hed heartily enoujjfh when slie said it to
me so lonj^ aj^o. I su]>pose I si^^hi'd to Hunk that what she
Siiid has come true."

"What was it, (iraenu^':'"

*' Oh '. I can hardly tell you — something' about the chanpfos
that come; to us as wo ^'ow older, and how vain it is to think
we can avoid v)ur fate."

"Our fate?" repeated Will.

" Oh, j'es ! I moan there are troubles — and pkvisuros, too,
that we can't foresee^ — that take us at unawiuvs, and wo havo
just t() mak(> the ho)d of them when they com(>,

"I don't thiidi I quite understand you, (li-a(MU(\"

"No, I daresavnot ; and it is not al)S()lutely necessary that
you should, — in the conn(H'tiou. IJut I am sure .a jj^vat many
pleasant things that wo did not expect, have liappened to u.s
Binc(> W(> came Ium'c.*'

" And was it thinkin*,' of these pleasant thinj^'s that mado
you sirjh ? " a^kod Will.

'• No. I am afraid I waa thinkhiir of tho other kind of

JANKT S F.OVK AM) SKItVICK.

271

surprises ; aiitl I (liircKuy I lm<l (luito us inxwh rcison to srailo
as to si,L,Oi. We vau'i tell our ti-iuls fit lirst si<(lit, "Will., nor
our lilfssiii<',H ci.hcr. 'Jiiiio cluuif^cs their I'iu-cH woiulci'l'ully
io us iis t!u! ycais ^'o on. At liny r.'itc Janet's advico in
ahviiAs a]i]>ropriatc' ; wo must make the best of thorn when
they conu,-."

" Yes," said A\'ill., doubtfully ; he did not quite understand
yet.

"For insiaiH'c, "Will., you were disconsolate enough when
the docto)' told you must <^ive up your books for an indclmito
time, and now you arc professing yourself quite conteru with
heada.-lio and \vat(T-gruel — glad oven at the illness that at
tii'st was so hard to bear."

Will, made a face at the gruel she presented.

'M dure say it is good for me, though I can't say I like it,
or the lie idaclie, IJiit, (iraemo, I did not get tliis check be-
fore I netiiled it. It is jiloasaut to be lirst, jind I was begin-
ning to lik" it. Now this ju'ccious month taken from mc, at
the iim<! I needed it most, will ])ut me back. To be sure,"
addiM I ]'.(>, with adeprecaiing glance^ "it is not much to be
first among so fi;\v. J3ut as -Janet used to say, Pride is an
ill weed and grows (^asily — llourishes even on a barren soil ;
and in the j)leasure au'l excittiment of study, it is not difli-
cult to i\)rget that it is only a means to an end."

" Yes," said (lraem{>, "it is (>asy to forget what we ought
ton'membei-."

But it came into AVill.'s mind that her sympathy did not
come so readily as usual, tliat her thougiits were elsewhere,
and he ha<l ii feeling that they were such iis he was not to bo
permitted to sluuv. In a litth; he said,

" ( Iraeme, I should like very nuu'li to go h(mie to Scot'and."

(jlraenu! roused herslf and answered cheerfiillv,

"Yes, I have never (|iiite given up the lio[)e of j^'oing homo
again ; but wo should lind sud (;hanges, Idoul)l."

"J>nt I mean I should like to go home soon. Not for the
sake of Clayton and our friends tliere. I would hke to go to
fitmvself better for llie work I have to do in the world."

'Wm SI

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272

JANI;T 8 LOVE AXD SERVICE.

" You mean, you would like to f^n borne to study."

" Yes. One must liavo a far better opportunity there, and
it is a grand thing to be 'thoroughly furnished.' "* There
was a pause, and then he added, " If I go, I ought to go soon
— within a year or two, I mean."

" 01), "Will., how could I ever let you go av.ay ? "

" ^Viiy, (Jraeme! that is not at all liki,' you ; you could let
me gi) if it were right. But I have not (juite decided that it
is not selfish in me to ^v.ish to go."

" But why V asked Graeme.

"Partly because it would be so pleasant. Don't you re-
member how Janet; used to say, we arc not so hkely to see all
sides of what we dt^su'c vei • mn'-h, Perhaps I desu'e it more
for the pleasure it would give me, than for the benefit it
might be to me. And then the expense. It would be too
much to expect from Ai-thur,"

" But there is the Merleville money. It Avas meant for
Arthur's education, and as ho did not need it, it is youi's."

" No, that belongs to you and Rose. It would not bo right
to take that."

" Nonsense, Will. "What is ours is yours ; if the expense
wore nil ! But I cannot bear to think of vou tjoing awav, and
HaiTy, too, perhaps."

" Hose tolls me that Harry is more bent on going West than
ever."

" Yes, within a few days ho has become cjuite eager about
it. I cannot undei>!tand why he should Ije so. Oh, I cannot
feel hoiieful about it."

" Ai-thur thinks it may be a good thing for Harry," said
Will.

" Yef5, for some things I suppose so. But, oh I Will.. I could
not let tiarry go as I could let you, siu'o that he would be kept
safe tUl— "

Graeme laid her lu^ad down on her brother's pillow, and the
tears she had been struggling with for so long a time burst
forih. She had never spoken to Will, of her fears for Harry,
but he Iniew that they all had had cause for anxiety on his

Janet's love and service.

273

account, so instcarl of speaking ho laid liis arm over his sisters
neck. She stnigglcd with herself a moment, unable to speak.

"draeine," said Will., softly, "we cannot keep Ilany safe
from evil, and lie who can is able to keep him safe there as
well as lu'i'c."

" I know it ; I say it to myself twenty times a day. That
is, I say it in words ; but I do not seem to get the comfort I
might from them."

"l>ut, flracMUP, Harry has been very little away this winter,
and I had thought — "

" I know, dear, and I have been quite hopeful about him
till lately. But, (ih, AVill. ! it won't bear talking about. Wo
can only wait patiently."

"Yes, (iraeme, wo can jiray and trust, and you are ex-
aggerating to yourself Harry's danger, I think. Wliat has
hap])ened to make you so faint-hearted, dear?"

" What should have ha}>pened, Will, i I am tu'ed — for one
thmg — and something is wrong I know."

She paused to struggle with her tears.

"Somehow, I don't feel so anxitnis about Hany as you do,
Graeme. He will come back again. I am sure this gi'eat sor-
row is not waiting you."

Ho paused a moment, and then added, hesitatingly,

" I have had many thoughts since I sat down here, f Iracmo.
I think oDC needs — it does one good, to make a pause to liavo
time to look back and to look forward. Things change to us ;
we get clearer and truer views of life, alone in the dark, with
nothing to withdraw our thoughts from the right and the
wrong of things, and we seem to see more clearly how trm; it
is, that though wc change God never changes. We get cour-
age to look oiu" troubles faii'ly hi the face, wlien wo are alono
with God and them."

Still (Jraemo said nothing, and Will, added,

"(iraeme, you must take hope for Harry. And there is
nothing else, is there? — nothing that you arc afraid to look at
— nothing that you cannot bring to the one i^lace for hglit and

help?"

12*

274

JANKT S LOVE AND SERVICE.

'^■it

II •

Slio (lid not answer f(»r u ininuto.

" No, \Vill., 1 hope not. I think not I daresay — 1 ajn quite
sure that all wiJlho for the best, and I shall soo at sonio time."

Not another word was said till (Iraonio rose and drawin<jf
aside the curtahis, let in on them the iliiu dawn of a bleak
]Mareli niornui«]f.

In a few more days "Will, was down stairs a<]fain. Not in his
accuHtomed eorncT anionjif his books, i)ut hi the annehair in
the wannest j)la('t> by the lir(>, made nnich of by Rose aJid
thcni all. It seemed a lon<^ time since he had been amonij^
them. A good many things had happened during the month
that (iraeme and he had passed tt)gether up stairs. Maich,
that had come in " like a lion " was hastening out " like a
lamb ; " the sky was eh^ar and the au* was mild ; spring was
not far away. The sjiow lay still in sullied ridges in the naiTow
streets where the sun had little power, and the nnul lay deep
in the streets where the snow had nearly disappeared. But
the i)avcments were dry and clean, and in spite of dirty cross-
ings and mud bespattering carriages, they were thronged
with gay promenaders, eager to welcome the spi'ing. Those
who were weathorwi^e shook their heads, declaring that hav-
ing April in INIarch would ensm'o ^lan^h weather when April
came, or it might be even in May. So it might prove, but
there was all the more need, because of this, that the most
should be made of the sunshine and the mild air, and even
thcii* (juiet street was (juito gay with the meiTy goers to and
fro, and it seemed to Will, and (Iraeme that more than a
month had passed since his illness began.

Harry had quitt; decided to go West now, and was as eager
and impatient to be gone as if he had all his life been (hi'eam-
mg of no other future than that which awaited him there.
That he should be so glad to go, pained his sister as much as
the thought of his going. That was at first, for it did not
take Graeme long to (hscover that Harr}' was not so gay as
he strove to appear. But her misgivings as to his depart, m*o
were none the less sad on that accoimt, and it was with a
heavy heart that she hstened to his plans.

JANKT S L«)Vi: AM) SKllVICK.

275

PorliJips it was in foutmst to ILiiTy's rather ostrntatiouH
mijth tlial his IViciid Ch;irli(! ^Millar scona^tl so very f^-avo on
the first iii'^ht thai Will, voiiiiirod to proh)!!;^' liis ntny uinoii^
tliciii al'l.ir tho ^'as hud hcun h;4hl(!tL lloso was «,a"av(', too,
and not at case, thou^^h siio Htrov(5 to liide it by joining'' in
Harry's i'lirth. Charlie di<l no£ strivo to hiih) his <.;ravity, hut
sat silent and Ihoiij^htrul after his lirst }^Tc(;tin;^'s \v<;ro ovoi'.
Even Harry's niirth failed at last, and he leaned hack on tho
sofa, shiidin^^ his J'aec with his hands.

"I am afraid yonr l)r()ther would tliink uh very unfjrateful
if ho eovild sec; how hudly we art! thanking him for hin great
kindness lo li.iri'y."

(Jraenie forced herself to say it. Allan's name had not
been inenticjned among them for days, and tho sihtneo, at fiTHt
gi'atefnl, had come to seem strange and unnatural, and it
made (Iraeme's cheeks tingle to thiidc what might Ix) tho
cause. Ho, looking into Charhe's face with a Knii]((, she spoko
to him about his broiher. But Chailio did not answer, or
Graeme did not hear, and in a little while she said again,

"Is Mr. Jhithven still in town':'"

"Oh! yes. It is not likely he will leave agahi soon."

"And yom- uncle is really recovering from his last attack?
AVhat an anxious time ^liss Elphinstono nuist nave had ! "

"Yes, ho seems better, and, contrary to all expectation,
seems likely to live for some time yet. But his mind is much
afl'ected. At least it seems so to me."

" Poor Lilias ! " said Oraeme, " Is she still alone V "

"Oh, no. There is a houseful of them. Her aunt Mrs.
Roxbury is there, and I do}i't know how many besides. I
declare, I think these women enjoy it."

(iraeme looked shocked.

" Charlie means the pri'i)arations for the wediling," said
Rose. " It is to take })la('o soon, is it not ? "

" AVithin the monlli I believe," said Charlie, gravely.

"So soon!" said (Iraeme ; and in a little she added, " Is it
not sudden ':' "

"No — yes, I snppose s(j. They have been engaged, or

ill I

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L>ro

JANKT8 LOVE AND SEUVU'K

somotliinpf like it for some limo ; but the haste is because of
Ml-. Elphinstoiie. He thinks he cuiinot die hiippy till he
scoH his daughter safe under the care of her husband. Just
as if Allan would not bo her fiiend all the same. It seems
to nie like madness."

'• And Lilias," said Hose, almost in a whisper, " is she con-
tent?"

" On the whole, I suiipose so. But this haste and her
fatluT being so ill, and all these horrid preparations are too
nni(!h for her. She looks ill, and an}i;hing l)ut cheerful."

" Wo have not seen your brother for a long time," said
Will.

" I have scarcely seen him, either. He did not find matters
much to his mind in C. I fear. Harry will have to keej^ his
eyes oiien among those people."

" How soon will Hany have to go ? " asked Rose.

" The sooner the better, I suppose," said Charlie, rising and
walking about. " Oh ! dear me. This is a miserable overtura-
ing that has come upon us — and everything seemed to bo
going on so smootlily."

" Harry will not have to go before Arthur comes back, I
hope," said Rose.

" I don't know, uideed. \\Tieu docs he come ? "

" Charlie, man," said Harry, rising suddenly, " did I not
hear you j)romising Crofts to meet him to night? It is
eight o'clock."

" No. I don't care if I never see Crofts or any of his set
again. You had much better stay where you are Harry."

" Charlie, don't be misanthropical. I promised if you did'nt.
Come along. No ? Well, good night to you all. Will., it is
time you were in bed, your eye:^ are like saucers. Don't sit
up for me, Graeme."

Graeme had no heart to remonstrate. She felt it would
do no good, and he went away leaving a very silent party
behind him. Charlie lingered. "NMien Graeme came down
stairs after seeing Will, in his room she foimd him still
sitting opposite Rose, silent and gi'ave. He roused himself

:;i

JANETS LOVE AND 8KRVICE.

277

as she entered, rrraonic would Kindly have cxcuaod him, but
she tf ok a scat and her work, and prepared to be entertain-
ed. It was not an easy matter, thouf^di Cliarlie had the best
will in the world to be entertainiuji?, and (Jraeme tried to re-
spond. She did not thuik of it at the time, but afterwards,
when Charlie was f(one, she remembered tlui sad wistful
h)ok with which tlie lad had rej^arded her. Itose too, hnn;j;
about her, sayin;^ nothin;^-, but with eyes full of somethinjj; to
which (Jraeme would not respond, (hie an%ny thr;)l) stirred
her heart, but her next thou<,'hts were not in an;j;er,

" These foolish young people have been dreaming dreams
about i\Jlan and me, — and I must un lecoivo them — or de-
ceive them — "

" Graeme," said Rose, softly, " if either of us wait for I Tar-
ry it must be me, for you are veiy tired."

" Yes, I am very tii'ed."

" Cliarhe said, perhajjs he would take Harry home with
him. Should we wait? " said Rose.

" No. He may not come. We will not wait. I shall
sleep near Will. He cannot spare me yet. Now go love."

She kissed the troubled face upturned to her, but would
suffer no lingering over the good-night. She was in no haste
to go herself, however. She did not mean to wait for Har-
ry, but when two hours had passed, she was still sitting where
Rose had left her, and thgn Harry came.

But oh ! the misery of that home coming. Graeme nmst
have fallen asleep, she thought, for she heard nothing till the
door opened, and then she heard Harry's voice, thick and
interiaipted, Ihankhig some-one, and then stupidly insisting
on refusing all further help.

"Never mind, gentlemen — I can manage — thank you."

There were two persons with him, Charlie Millar was one
of them.

*' Hush, Harry. Be quiet, man. Are you mad ? You
will waken your sister."

The light which some-one held behind them, flushed for a
moment on Graeme's pale face.

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278

JANKTS LOVK A^'D SKEVICE.

*'01i! lMis« laiiott," siiid Clifirli'M, "I tried to keep him
■with 1110. ]lo is iu!i<l, I think. 13o quiet, Hiu'ry."

lliirry (luito iiicupjil)!*! of wiilkin;^' Ktriii;:,''ht, strupf^led to
free hiiusoh" and stii^^'^^Tcd toward his sister.

" I knew you would sit up, (Iraeme — thou<^h I told you
not — mid so I ejinu! home."

"Of eonrso, you did ri^j^ht to come liomo. But hush, Har-
ry! you will waken AVill."

" Oh ! yes ! Pcjor AVill ! " he nuinibled. " But Graonio
■what ails you, that you look at me with a face like thatV"

" IMiss Elliott," entreated Charlie, '"leave him tons, you
can do nothinjjf with him to-nij^ht."

She wimt uj) stairs before them carrying the lij^ht, and
lield firmly the handle of Will's door till they passed. She
stood there m the darkness till they came t)ut again and went
downstairs. Poor Harry lay muttering and mumbling, en-
treating Graeme to come and sec him before she went to
bed. "When she heard the door close she went down again,
not into the parlor where a light still burned, but into tho
darkness of tho rooju beyond.

"Oil Harry! Harry! Harry!" she cried, as she sank on
lier knees and covered her face.

It was a dark hour. Her hope, her faith, her trust in God
— all that had been her strength and song, from day to day,
was forgotten. The bitter watery of fear and gri(>f passed
over her, and she was well nigh ovt>r\\ helmed.

"Oh papa ! mamma ! Oh Harry ! Oh! my little brothers."

"]\Iiss Elliott," said a voice that made her henrt stand still,
" Graeme, j'ou must let me help you now."

She rose and turnod toward him.

"Mr. lluthvcn ! I was not aware — " said she, moving to-
ward tho door through which light came from the parlor.

" Miss Elliott, f(.)rgive me. I did not mean to intrude. I
met your brother and mine by chance, and I came with them.
You must not think that I — "'

" Thank you, you are very land."

JANKt's love AJfD SERVICK.

27'J

Grftomo wan tniuMiiijf greatly and sat down, but roso
aj^ain iiniiiGcliatcly.

" You arc very kind," ropoatud she, scarcely knowing what
she said.

" (Iracnio," said ^Ir. Ruthven, "you must lot mo help you
in this matter. Tell ma what you wish. IMust Hany stay
or go?"

Graeme sank down with a cry, wringing her hands.

"Oh! Harry! Hany!"

Mr. Ruthven made one step toward her,

*' IMiss Elhott, I dare not say to you that you think too
severely of Harry's fault. But he is young, and I do not
really fear for him. An<l you have more cause to bo hopeful
than L Think of your father, and — yoiur father's God.
Graeme, be sure HaiTy will come back to you again."

Graeme sat still with her head bowed down.

" Graeme — Miss Elliott. Tell mo what you would have
me do."

Graeme rose.

" You are very khid," she repeated. " I cannot think to-
night. "Wo must wait — till Arthiu* comes home."

He went up and down the room several times, and thou
came and stood by her side again.

" Graeme," said ho, in a low voice, "let me hear you onco
say, that you believe me to be your true and faithful friend."

" Why should I not say it, Allan. You are my true and
faithful fi-iond, as I am yom-s."

Her voice did not tremble, and for a moment she calmly
met his eye. Ho turned and walked away, and when ho
came back again he held out his hand and said,

" Good-night."

"Good-night," said Graeme.

*' And you will see about Harrs' — what you wish for him."

"Yes. Good-bye."

He raised the hand ho held to his lips, and then said,
« Good-bye."

• J

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CHAPTER XXVI.

THE next few days were weary ones to all. Will, had
reached that stage of convalescence m wliich it was not
easy to resign himself to utter idleness, and yet he had not
strength to be able to occui^y himself long without fatigue ;
and in the effort to amuse and interest him, Graeme's spirits
flagged sadly. She looked so exhausted and ill one day when
the doctor came in, that he declared that "Will, must be left
to the tender mercies of Kose, while her sister went first for
a walk in the keen morning air, and then to her room for the
rest of the day. It is possible that solitude and her own
thoughts did Graeme less good than attendance on "Will,
would liiive done, but doctors camiot be supposed to know
everything ; and even had he known all there was to account
for her hot hands and pale cheeks, it is doubtful whether his
skill could have suggested anything more to the purpose than
his random prescription was. At any rate, Graeme was thank-
ful for a few days' quiet, whether it was good for her or not ;
and in the mean tune Hose and Will, got on very well without
her.

And Ilariy — poor, unhappy, repentant Harry, trpng under
A mask of sullen indiflerenee to hide the shame and mi[,ery he
felt iit the remembrance of that night — these were dreary days
to him. Graeme never spoke to him about that night. She had
not the courage, even if she had felt not that it would be better
not to do so. The preparations for liis dcpartm'e went on slowlj*,
though it was becommg doubtful whether he should go West
after all. He said little about it himself, but that little it was
not pleasant for Graeme to hear.

Much to the surprise of everj-one, and to the extreme in-
(280)

JAXET S LOVE AND SEitVICE.

281

di^^ation of Harry, jVIi". Rutlivcii bad again left tovm, sayiiif,'
notlring of his destination or the Icngtii of his stay, only in
very brief fashion, telling him to make no fm-thor arrange-
ments for his departure until his return.

" He does not trust me. He does not think mo lit to take
charge of his affau's,"' said Harry to himself, v.ith his vague
remembrance of Alhm's share in the ev(;nts of that miserai)lo
night, ho could hardly wonder that it should bo so, and in
his shame and impatience he was twenty times on the point
of breaking his connection with his employ ei's, and going his
own way. However, he forced himself to wait a little.

" If I am sent West af.er all, well and good. If not I shall
remain no longer. The change of arrangements will bo
sufficient excuse, at least I will make it so. I can't stuj,
and I won't. If he would but come back and put an end to
it all."

And Harry was not the only one who was impatient under
the unreasonable al^sonce of !Mr. Ruthven. Poor Mr. El-
phmst(me, ill and irritable, suffered not an hour to pass
without vexing* himself and others, wondering at, and
lamenting his delay. Lilias had much ado to keep him
from saymg angry and bitter things about his nephew, and
exaggerated the few details she had gathered v.ith regard to
their recent losses, in order to account to him for Allan's un-
timely devotion to business. Poor girl, she looked sad and
ill in these days, and gi-ew irritable and mireasonable amid the
preparations of Mrs. lloxbiu'y, in a way that shocked and
alarmed that excellent and energetic lady. She considered
it a very equivocal proof of Lihas' love to her father, that she
should be so averse to the caiTving out of his express
wishes. There had been nothing that is proper on such an
occasion," and Mrs. Roxbury seemed bent on fulfilling; his
wishes to the very letter. So, at last, Lilias was fain for the
sake of peace to grow patient and grateful, and staid more
and more closely in her father's room, and her aunt had her
will in all things that cxmcenied the wedding, that under such
melancholy circumstances was di-awing near.

II'

•i I *l

I! M!|

I \'%

n:
4

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'■

OS'>

.lANF.Trf LdVK AND Hl.IiVICK.

" nmomo," Hiiiil Ilarrv, oiio ni^-'lit, wlicn llioy wcro sitting
to^'ctlur jit'tci- (lie rest liad all ^one up stairs, "don't you
tliiuU wo liavobccn nncoiufortal)!!! lou^ t'liou^hV Don't you
tliiuk you have <^'ivcn us cnou^li of thiit niiscral)l(', liopclc! s
face for oni! occasion? • I tliink a dian^^o would be agreeable
to all coneonied. It would to mo, at any rate."

(rraonio was so startled at this spoceli, that for a little she
could not say a word. Then she said something- about beinj^
tired and not very well — and about its being impossible
always to help one's looks.

" AVhy don't you say at once that it is I who have made
you so miserable — that you have lost all faith in mo — that I
am going straight to ruin. That is what you mean to say —
you know very well."

" Harry," said she, gently, " I did not mean to say any-
thing unkind."

Harry left his seal, and threw himself oji the sofa with a

groan.

*' If you would only rate a fellow soundly, Graeme ! If you
would only tell me at once, what a weak, jtitiful wretcli you
tliink me ! I could bear that ; but youi* silence and that
miserable face, I cannot bear."

"I cannot say I think you weak or pitiful, Harry. It
would not bo true. And I am afraid you would not hke
my rating bettor than my silence. I can only say, I have had
less com'age in thuiking of yom* going awa}-^ to till an impor-
tant and responsible situation, since that night."

Harrv "jfroanod.

" Oh ! v.ell ; don't l)other yourself about my going away,
and my responsibilities. The chances arc some one else will
have to fill the important situation."

" Have you seen — has Mr. lluthvcn returned ? "

" ]\Ir. liuthvcn has returned, and I have seen him, but I
have not spoken with him. It was not his will and pleasure
to saj' luiything to-night about that which has boon keeping
mo in such miserable suspense. He was engaged, forsooth,

JANET t^ LOVK AND SEIlVICi:.

283

wlicn a mouKmt would have; settled it. Well, it docs not
matt(T. I shall lake; tlio decision into my own handn."

" What do yon nicran, lEariy V "

"I mean, I shall {^ivc up my siluaticm if he does not send
me West — if he hesitates a moment about sendinj^ me, I shall
leave his employment."

"But why, Harry?"

" Because — because I am determined. Ruthven does not
think me fit to be entrusted with the management of his
affairs, I suppose."

" Harry," said his sister, gravely, " is it surprising if ho
does not?"

" Well, if I am not to be trusted there, neither am I to bo
tnisted here, and I leave. Graeme, you don't know what j'ou
are talking about. It is quite absurd to suppose that what
happened that night would make any difference to Allan
Ruthven. You think him a saint, but trust me, he knows by
experience how to make allowance for that sort of thing. If
he has nothing worse than that against any one in his em-
ployment, ho may tliink himself fortimato."

" Then, why do you say ho does not trust yort ? "

" I shall call it sufficient evidence that he does not, if he
di'aws back in this. Not that I caro much. I would rather
be in the employment of some one else. I shall not stay here."

"Harry," said Graeme, coming quile close to the sofa on
which he had throwii himself, " what has happened between
you and Allan Ruthven."

" Hai:)pened ! What should have happened ? What an
absurd question to ask, Graeme."

" Harry, why are you so determined to leave him ? It was
not so a little while ago."

"Was it not? Oh, well! I daresay not. But one wants
a change. One gets tired of the same dull routine always.
Now, Graeme," added he, as she made an incredulous gesture,
" don't begin to fancy any mysteiy. That would be too ab-
surd, you know."

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Graeme came and knelt close beside him. His face was
turned away so tliat she could Dot S(.'C it. Her own was very
pale.

" Harry, speak to me. Do you believe that iUlan Ruthven
is otherwise than an honorable and upri^dit j^fcutleman in
business and — in other matters? Tell me, Harry."

"Oh, yes! as gentlemen go. No, (iraeme, that is not
riglit. I believe him in all things to be upright and honorable.
I tlunlc more highly of him than I d'd at first. It is not that."

The color came slowly back to Graeme's face. It was evi-
dent that Harry had no foohsh thoughts of her and Allan.
In a little she said,

' And you, Harry — you hav3 not — you are — "

" I hope I am an honorable man, Graeme," said Harry,
gravely. " There is nothing between Mr. Ruthven and me. I
mean, he does not wish me to leave hun. But I must go,
Graeme. I cannot stay here."

" Harrj', why ? Tell me." Graeme laid her hand caress-
ingly on his hail'.

" It is nothing that I can tell," said Harry, huskily.

" Harry — even if I caimot helj) it, or remove it — it is bet-
ter that I should know what is making you so unhappy.
Hany, is it — it is not Lilias ?"

He did not answer her.

" Harry, Harry ! Do not say that tliis great sorrow has
fallen upon us, upon you, too."

She drew back that he might not feel how she was trem-
bling. Ill a Httle she said,

'• Brother, speak to me. ^Miat shall I say to you, my poor
Harrv?"

But Harry was not in a mood to be comforted. He rose
and confi'onted her.

"I think the most appropriate remark for the occasion
would be that I am a fool, and deserve to suffer for my folly.
You had better say that to me, Graame."

But something in his sister's face stopped him. His lips
trembled, and he said,

Janet's love and service.

285

"At an}' rate, it isn't -worth your looking so miserable
abont."

" Hush, Harry," whispered she, and he felt her tears drop-
ping on his hands. " And Lilias ?"

" Graeme, I do not know. I never spoke to her, but I
hoped — I believed till lately — ."

He laid his head down on his sister's shoulder. In a little
ho roused himself and said,

" But it is all past now — all past ; and it won't bear talking
about, even with you, Graeme, who arc the dearest and best
sister that ever unworthy brother had. It was only a dream,
and it is past. But I cannot stay here — at least it Avould bo
very much better — "

Graeme sighed.

" Yes, I can understand how ii, should seem impossible to
you, and yet — but you are light. It won't bear talking
about. I have nothing to say to comfort you, dear, except
to wait, and the j)ain may grow less."

No, there was nothing that Graeme could say, even if
Harry would have hstened to her. Her own heart was too
heavy to allow her to think of comfort for him ; and so tliey
sat in silence. It seemed to Graeme that she had never been
quite miserable until now. Yesterday she had thought her-
self wretched, and now her burden of care for Harry was
pressing with tenfold weight. Why had this new misery
come upon her ? She had been unhappy about him before,
and now it was worse vnih him than all he." fears.

In her misery she forgot many thmgs that might have
comforted her with regard to her brother. She judged him
by herself, forgetting the difference between the woman and
the man — between the matiu'e woman, wJio having loved
vainly, could never hope to dream the sweet dream again,
and the youth, hardly yet a man, sitting in the gloom of
a first sorrow, with, it might well be, a long bright futui-e
stretching before him.

Sharp as the ])ain at her own heart was, she knew she should
uot die of it. She took no such consolation to herself as that.

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Slio knew she nnis't live the old coininon life, liidintjf first tho
fvesU wound and Uion the scar, only ho[)iiijjf that as the years
went on tlie pain niij^lit grow less. She accepted tlie lot.
She thought if ihe darkness of her life never cast a shadow
on the lives t)f those she loved, she -svould strive, with Ood'a
help, to 1)0 contented.

But Harry — poor I Tarry ! hitherto so careless and light-
hearted, how was he to bear tho sorrow that had fallen upon
him ? Perhaps it was as well that in her love and pity for
her brother, Graeme failed to see how dilil'rent it might bo
with him. Harry would hardly have borne to be t;>ld even
by her that his sorrow would pasaaway. Tlio commonplacca
supposed to 1)0 appropriate about time and change and pa-
tience, would have been unwelcome and irritatbig, even from
his sister's lipp, and it was all the better that Graeme should
sit there, thinking her own di'eary thoughts in silence. After
the momentary pahi and shame whioli the betrayal of his
secret had caused him, there was a certain consolation in the
knowledge that he had his sister's sympiithy, and I am afraid,
if the truth must be told, that Graeme that night sufiered
more for Harry than Han-y suffered for himself. If she
looked back with bitter regTet on the vanished dream of the
last six months, it was that night at least less for her own
sake than for his. If from the future that lay before them
she shrank appalled, it was not because tho di-eariness that
must henceforth be on her life, but because of something
worse than di'eariness that might be on the life of her brother,
unsettled, almost reckless, as he seemed to be to-night. She
could not but see the danger that awaited him, should he
persist in leaving home, to cast himself among strangers.
How gladly would she have borne his trouble for him. She
felt that going away now, ho would have no shield against the
temptation that had of late proved too strong for him ; and
yet would it be really better for him, could she prevail upon
him to stay at home? Remembering her "own impulse to bo
away — anywhere — to escape fi-om tho past and its associa-
tions, she could not wonder at his wish to go. That the bit-

.fANKT ;•; r.oVK AN'D SKUVfCK.

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bo
cia-
bifc-

tcnicss of tliG pain would par^s away, slio ]i()[)e(l and Ixlirvcd,
but v.onld ho ■wait Avitli patience the eoiuin^jf of content. Alas !
hei* fear.s w v^j !-;tron;,^ei' than licr hopes. Best L^ive hiui into
(iod's keepiii;^' and let liiin <^o, she thorijj^lit.

*' But ho lunst not leave Mr. lluthvcn. That will make him
no better, but worse, lie must iKjt j^o from ns, not knowing
whither. Oh, I wish I knew what to do !"

The next day the decision was made. It would iKjt bo
tnie to say that Harry was quite calm and at his ease-that
mornin^^ Avhen he obeyed a suinnions into ]\Ir. lliithven's
l)rivate room. There was more need for Charhci's '' ke(;p cool,
old fellov/," than Ciiarlie knew, for Harry had that morning
told Graeme tl^tit before ho saw her fiico again ho would know
whether ho was to go or stay. In spite of himself he felt a
little soft-hearted, as he thought of what might be the result
of his interview, and ho was glad tliat it wiis not his friend
Allan, but Mr. Kulhven the merchant, ])rief and business-like
in all ho said, whom he found awaitiiig him. He was busy
with some one else when Hany entered, talking coolly and
rapidly on business matters, and neither voice nor manner
changed as he turned to him.

There was a good deal said about matters that Hairy
thought might very well have been kept till another time ;
there were notes compa]-ed and letters read and books exam-
ined. There were some allusions to past transactions, in-
quu'ies and directions, all m the fewest possible words, and in
the quietest manner. Hany replied, assented and sug^'cstod,
making all the time the strongest eifc^rt to appear as there
was notlnng, and could be nothing, beyond these dull details
to interest him.

There came a pause at last. Mr. lluthvcn did not say in
words that he need not wait any longer, but his manner, as ho
looked up, and turned over a number of letters that luid just
been brought in, said it plainly. Indexed, lie tin-nod fjuito
away fi'om him, and s(H'mc<l al^soibesl in liis occupation.
Harry waited till the lad that ])rought in the letters had
mended the firo, and fidgeted about the room, and gone out

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JAXKT S LOVE AND SEUVICE.

again ; llion ho «ai(l, in a voice that ought to have been quiet
and ih'in, for he took a }2^reat deal of jiains to make it so,

" ]Mr. liuthvcn, may I trespass a moment on your vakiable
time noii'f"

INIr. liuthven immediately laid his letters on the table, and
turned round. Harry thought, like a man who found it neces-
sary to addi'oss hims^^lf, once for all, to the performance of
an unpleasant duty. Certainly, ho had time to attend to
anything of importance that Mr. Elliott might have to
say.

*' It is a matter of great importance to mc, and I have been
led to suppose that it is of some consequence to you. The
Western agency "

" You are right. It is of great consequence to the firm.
There is, perhaps, no immediate necessity for deciding "

" I bog your pardon, sir, there is absolute necessity for my
knowing at once, whether it is yom* pleasure that I should
be employed in it."

*' Will a single day make much diftcrence to you ? " said
Mr. Ruthven, looking gravely at the young man, who was
certainly not so calm as he meant to be.

" Excuse mo, sir, many days have passed since. — But, Mr.
Ruthven, it is better I should spare you the pain of sajing
that you no longer consider me fit for tlie situation. Allow
me, then, to inform you that I wish — that I no longer wish
to remain in your* employment."

" Hany," said IVIr. Ruthven, gravely, " does your brother —
does vour sister know of your desu'o to leave me ? Would
t\iQ:y approve, if you were sent AVest ? "

" Pardon mo, Mr. Ruthven, that question need not be dis-
cussed. I must be the best judge of the matter. As for
them, they were at least reconciled to my going when you —
drew back."

Mr. Rutliven was evidently uncomfortable. He took up
his bundle of letters again, murmuring something about their
not wishmg it now.

" I understand you, sir," said Harry, with a very palo face.

jankt's lovk and service.

•289

face.

" Allow mo to say that a.s koou as you can supply iny pla-jc —
or at oucc, if you like — I must go."

But Air. Ruthvcn was not listening to him. He had turned
over his letters till a little note among them attracted his at-
tention. Ho broke the seal, and read it while Hariy was
speaking. It was very brief, only three words and one mitial
letter.

*' Let HaiTy go.

G."

He read it, and fielded it, and laid it down with a sigh.
Then he tm-ncd to Harry, just as ho was laying liis hand on
the door.

" What is it, I lai'iy ? I did not hoar what you wcro saying."

"I merely said, sir," said Harry, turning round and facing
him, " that as soon as you can supply my place in the office,
I shall consider myself at liberty to go."

" But why should you wish to go ? "

" There are several reasons. One is, I shall never stay any-
where on sufferance. If I am not to be trasted at a distance,
I shall certainly not stay to give my employers the trouble
of keeping an eye upon me."

His own eye flashed as he sjjoke.

"But, Harry, man, that is nonsense, you know."

It was not his master, but liis fiiend, that spoke, and Haiiy
was a little thrown off his guard by the change in his tone.

" I do not think it is nonsense," said he.

" Hariy, I have not been thinking of myself in all this, nor
of the interests of the firm. Let me say, once for all, that I
should consider them perfectly safe in your hands, in all re-
spects. Harry, the world would look darker to me the day
I could not tmst your father's son."

Harry made no answer.

" It is of you I have been thinking, in the hesitation that
has seemed so um*easonable to you. Harry, when I think
of the home you have here, and of the wretehed changed
hfe that awaits you there, it seems selfish — wrong to wish to
scad you away."
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TTaiTV lujido II pfcstni'c of <lis;u'iit, and nmllcn'd Hoinctliing
about tlui iiiipossibilily of stiiyiiijjf iilw.ivs iil Iiouk".

"I know it, u\y I;i<l, but llu^ loiij^cr vou cuu stiiv at lioiiio
— Kuch II lioiii(> as yours — llu; bcttci". When I think of my
own lifo tliciv, tlic lirst inisc-rablo yoai'H, and all tli(! evil I

have isocu kIuco . AVcll, tilers is no use in ;;niij^ over all

that. But, Harry, it v>ould break your sister's heart, were
you to chant^e into a hard, sellish, worldly man, like the rest
of us."

There was nothinp;- Harry eould say to this.

"So many fail in the slrupi'j^le — so many are chanfifed or
ruined. And, dear lad, you have one lempiation tliat never
was a tomptatio!! to me. Don't b(> an/ijrv, ifarry," for Harry
started and f;T«'w red. "Even if tliat is not to be feared for
you, there is enou^li besides to make you hesitate. I liavo
known and proved the world. ^Vhat we call snecoss in life,
is not worth one approvin.L^ smile fi-om your sister's lips.
And if you should fall, and be trodden down, how should I
ever answer to lior?"

He walked up and down the room two or three times.

"Don't f^'o, Harry." ]'\)r Harry had risen as thou^^h ho
thought tlio intorvi(!w was at an end. "You said, just
now, that you must decide for j'oui'self, and you shall do so.
But, consider well, and consult your brother and sister. As
for the mterests of the finn , I have no fear."

"I may eousider it settled then," said Harry, huskily.
" Ai-thur was always of opinion that I should go, and Graeme
is willing now. And the sooner the better, I suppose ? "

" The sooner the better for us, 15ut tjiere is time enough.
Do not bo liasty in deciding."

"I have decided ah*eady. I thank you, sir, " Ho

hesitated, hardly knowing v.hat to say more.

" I hope it will prove that you will have good reason to
thank me. Remember, Harry, Avhatevcr comes out of this,
you left us with my full and entire contidence. I do not be-
lieve I shall have cause to regret it, or that you will fail me
or disappoint me."

JANKT rt LOVE AND HKIJVICK.

291

Han-y fp-aspnd I ho liiiiid hold out. to him without u word,
but iinviirdly ho vowed, that ooiuo what nii^^'ht, th(; ooiirnh-iKio
HO f^oiicrously (wprcsHod should never, for good cuuhu, be with-
drawn.

And so tJK! decision was made. AfUn- Ihis the prei)arationM
did not occupy a lonj^f time. The second da}- found Ifarry
r<'ady for depart Mr(>.

"(Jraeiiie," said Ifarry, "I cannot hv. cont(;nt to take nway
with mo such a melancholy remembrance of your face. I
shall begin to think vou are not willing that I should go after
all."

" You need not think so, Han-y. I am sure it is best since
you are d(;termined. But I cannot but look m«;lancholy at
the necessity. You would not have mo loo!- joyful, when I
am going to lose my brother? "

"No — if that were! all. lint you have oflcu said hcnv im-
possible it was that wo shoulil always 'r op togctlier It i.s
only what we have been expecting, and w(! miglit have parted
in jiiurli more trying circur^stanees. I shnU Iju homo often
— once a year at the least ; periiaps oftoaer."

"Yes, dear, I know."

"Well, then, I think there is no cause for gi'ief in my
going, even if I wore worth}' of it, wliich I very much doubt."

Graeme's face did not brighten. In a little while her tears
wx^re falling fast.

" (ilraemc, what is it V There i.-^ some other reason for your
tears, besides my going a^vay. You do not tiiist mc Graeme,
you are afi'aid."

Graeme made an effoi't to quiet herself.

" Yes, Harry, I am' a little afraid, since you give mo the
opportunity to say so. You have hardly been our o^vn
Harry f(3r awhile, as you know, dear. And what will 3'ou
bo A\hen you are far from us all ? I am afraid to k't you go
from mo, Hariw, far more afraid than I should be for
Will."

Harry rose and walked about a while, with an air that
Bocmod to be indignant; but if he was angry, he thought

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JANET S LOVE AND SEEVICE.

better of it, and in a little he came and sat do^m beside his
sister, again.

"I ^visl! I could make you quite satisfied about me,
Graeme."

" I wish you could, dear. I will try to be so. I daresay
you think me unreasonable, Harry. I know I am tu-ed, and
foohsli, and all wrong," said she, trying in vain to keep back
her tears.

" You look at this moment as though you had very httle
hope in anything," said Harry, with a touch of bitterness.

" Do I ? Well, I am aU Avrong, I know. There ought to be
hope and comfort too, if I sought them right. I will try to
leave you in God's keeping, Harry, the keeping of our father's
and our mother's God."

Hany tlu-ew himself on his knees beside her.

" Graeme, you are making yourself unhappy without cause.
If you only knew ! Such tilings arc thought nothing of. If I
disgraced myself the other night, there are few young men
of our acquaintance who are not disgraced." •

Graeme put her hand upon his lips.

" But, Graeme, it is true. I must speak, I can't bear to
have you fretting, when there is no cause. Even Allan Ruth-
ven thought nothing of it, at least, he • "

" Hush, Harry, you do not need Mr. Ruthven to be a con-
science to you. And it is not of the past I am thinking, but
the future. How can I bear to think of you going the way
so many have gone, knowing the danger all the greater be-
cause you feel yourself so safe. I am afraid for you, Harry."

It was useless to speak, she knew that quite well. The
words of another can never make danger real, to those who
ai'e assailed with poor Hand's temptation. So she shut her
lips close, as he rose from her side, and sat in silence ; while
he walked up and down the room. By and by he came back
to her side, again.

" Graeme," said he, gravely. " Indeed, you may trust me.
The shame of that night shall never be renewed. You shall

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

293

never have the same cause to bo son*y for me, or ashamed
of me again."

She put her arms round his nock, and laid her head down
on his shoulder, but she did not speak. It was not that
she was altogether hopeless about her brother, but Harry
imdcrstood it so.

" Graeme, what shall I say to you ? How shall I give you
courage — faith to trust me ? Graeme, I promise, that till I
see you again I shall not taste nor touch that which so de-
graded me in yom* eyes. I solenmly promise before God,
Graeme."

" Hany," said his sister, " it is a vow — an oath, that you
have taken."

" Yes, and it shall be kept as such. Do you tnist me,
Graeme ? Give me that comfort before I go away."

" I trust you, Harry," was all she had voice to say. She
clasped him and kissed him, and by and by she pi'ayed God
to bless him, in words such as his mother might have used.
And Harry vowed, with God's help, to bo true to himself
and her. He did not speak the words again, but none the
less was the vow rcj^istercd in Heaven.

That was the real farewell between the brother and sister.
Next morning there was little said by any one, and not a
word by Graeme, but the last gUmpse Harry had of home,
showed his eldest sister's face smiling and hopeful, saying as
plainly as her words had said before,

" Hany, I trust you quite."

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CHAPTER XXVII.

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THE brilliant sunlight of a September morning was
shining full into the little breakfast room, whero
Graeme sat at the head of the table, awaiting the coming of
the rest. The morning paper was near her, but she was not
reading; her hands were clasj)cd and rested on the table,
and she was looldng straight before her, seeing, probably,
further than the pale green wall, on which the sunshine fell so
pleasantly. She was grave and quiet, but not in the least
sad. Indeed, more than once, as the voices of Rose and
Arthur came sounding down stau's, a smile of unmistakable
cheerfulness overspread her face. Presently, Arthur entered,
and Graeme made a movement among her cups and saucers.

" Your trip has done j'ou good, Graeme," said Ai*thur, as
he sat down opposite to her.

" Yes, indeed. There is nothing like the sea breezes, to
fi'eshen one. I hardly know myself for the tu'cd, exhausted
creature you sent away in June."

Graeme, Rose, and Will., had passed the summer at Cacou-
na. Nellie had gone with them as housekeeper, and Arthur
had shut the house, and taken lodgings a httle out of town
for the summer.

•' I am only afraid," added Graeme, " that all oiu^ pleasure
has been at the expense of some discomfort to you."

"By no means, a change is agreeable. I have enjoyed
the summer very much. I am glad to get home again, how-
ever."

" Yes, a change dees one good. If I was only quite at
ease about one thing, we might have gone to Merleville, in-
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JAXKTri LOVi: AND SKRVICK

295

stead of Cacoima, and that %vould have given Jauet and a
good many others pleasure."' •

"Oh! I don't know," said Arthur. "The good people
there must have forgotten us by this time, I fancy. There
arc no sea Ijrcczes there, and they were what you needed."

''^ Arthur ! Janet forgotten us ! Never, I am quite sui'e of
that. But at the time it seemed impossible to go, to make
the cilbrt, I mean. I quite slirunk fi'om the thought of Merle-
viUe. Indeed, if you had not been fii'm, I fear I should not
have had the sea breezes."

"Yes. You owe me thanks. You needed the change.
What with Will.'s illness and Harry's going away, and one
thing and another, you were quite in need of a change."

" I was not well, certainly," said Graeme. " Will, has
gone to the post, I suj^pose '?"

" Yes," said Rose, who entered at the moment. " I see him
coming up the street."

" As for Kosie," said Arthur, lookmg at her gi'avely, as she
sat down. " She has utterly ruined her complexion. Such
fi'eckles ! such sunbmiiiu^ ! and how stout she has grown !"

Rose laughed.

" Yes, I know I 'm a fright. You must bring mo some-
thmg, Arthur. Toilette vinegar, or something."

" Oh ! it would not signify. You are quite beyond all that."

" Hero comes Will., with a letter for each of us, I declare."

Arthur's letter was soon despatched, a mere business mis-
sive. Graeme's was laid down beside her, while slie poured
Will's coffee. Rose read her's at once, and before she was
well down the first pnge, she uttered a cry of delight.

"Listen all. No, I won't road it just yet. Arthur, d(m't
you remember a conversation that you and I had togetlier,
soon after Sandy was here ?"

" Conversation." repeated Arthur. " "We have talked, that
is, you have talked, and I have listened, but as to conversa-
tion "

" But Arthur, don't you remember saymg something about
Emily, and I did not agree with you ?"

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" I have said a groat many times, that I thought Emily a
very pretty httle trcaturc. If yon don't agi'ec, it shows bad
taste."

" I quite agree. I think her beautiful. She is not very
little, however. She is nearly as tall as I am."

" What is it. Rose V" asked Graeme, stretching out her
hand for the letter.

"You '11 spoil yom* news, with your long preface," said "Will.

" No, but I want Arthur to confess that I am wisest."

" Oh ! I can do that, of course, as regards matters in gen-
era' ; but I should like to hear of this particular case."

" Well, don't you remember saying, that you did not think
Sandy and Emily would ever fall in love ?"

" I remember no such assci-tion, on my pai*t. On the con-
trary, I remember feeling pretty certain, that the mischief
was done already, as far as Sandy was concerned, poor fellow;
and I remember sajing much to your indignation, ' more 's
the pity.' "

" Yes ; and I remember you said it would be just like a
sentimental little blue, lilvc Emily, to slight the handsome,
hearty young farmer, and marry some pale-faced Yankee
professor."

" You put the case a httle strongly, perhaps, said Arthur,
laughing. " But, on the whole, that is the way the matter
stood. That was my opiijion, I confess."

" And they are going to be married !" exclaimed Graeme
and Will, in a breath. " How glad Janet will be !"

" Emily does not say so, in so many words. It won't bo
for a long time yet, they are so young. But I am to be
brides-ma,id when the time comes."

"W^ell, if that is not saying it!" said Will, laughing.
" What would you have, Rosie ?"

Graeme opened and read her letter, and laid it down be-
side her, looking a little pale and anxious.

" What is it, Graeme ? Nothing wrong, I hope."

" No ; I hope not. I don't know, I am sure. Norman
says he is going to be manned."

JANET'S LOVE AND SERVICE.

297

" Married !" cried Rose and Will.

" To Hilda ?" said Arihur.

" Yes ; but bow could you have guessed ?" said Graeme
bewildered.

•' I did not guess. I saw it. Why it was quite easy to be
seen that events have been tenduig toward it all these years.
It is all very fine, this brother and sister intercourse ; but I
have been quite sure about them since Harry wrote about
them."

"Well, Norman seems surprised, if you are not. Ho
says, ' You ^^ill be very much astonished at all this ; but you
cannot bo more astonished than I was myself. I did not
think of such a thing ; at least, I did not know that I was
thinking of such a thing till young Conway, my fiiend,
asked permission to address my sister. I was very indignant,
though, at first, I did not, in the least, know why. How-
ever, Hilda helped mo to find out all about it. At first I
meant she should spend the winter with you all. I want
very much that you should know each other. But, on the
whole, I think I can't spare her quite so long. Expect to
see us therefore in November — one flesh!'" There was
much more.

" Well done, Norman !" cried Arthur. " But, Graeme, I
don't see what there is to look grave about. She seems to
be a nice Uttle thing, and Norman ought to know his own
mind by this time."

" She's a gi*eat deal more than a nice little thing," said
Graeme earnestly. " If one can judge by her letters and
by HaiTy's description of her — to say nothing of Norman's
opinion — she must be a very superior person, and good and
amiable besides. But it seems so strange, so sudden. Why,
it seems only the other day since Norman was such a mere
boy. I wish she could have passed the winter with us. I
think, perhaps, I should write and say so."

" Yes, if you like. But Norman must judge. I think it
is the wisest thing for him. He will have a settled home."

I do believe it is," said Graeme, earnestly. " I am very
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Janet's love and service.

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glad — or I shall be in a little. But, just at first, it seems a
little as though Norman would not be quite so much one of
us — you know — and besides there really is something odd
in the idea of Nomian's being married ; now, is there not ?"

" I confess I fail to see it," said Arthui', a httlc shai-ply.
Graeme had hardly time to notice his tone. An exclama-
tion fi'om Will, startled her.

« What is it, Will. ?" said Rose. "Another wedding?"

" You '11 never guess, Rosie. Never. You need not try."

" Is it Han-y this time ?" said Ai'thur, looking in from the
hall with his hat on.

"No. Listen, Arthur! Harry says, 'What is this that
"Mr. Green has been telling me about Arthiu' and little Miss
Grove ? I was gi'eatly amused at the idea of their mutual
admiration. Mr. Green assm'es me that he has the best
authority for sajdng that Ai'thiu' is to carry off the heiress.
Charlie, too, has hinted something of the same kind. Tell
Graeme, when that happens, I shall expect her to come and
keep my house.' "

" They said Mi*. Green was going to caiTy off the heiress-
himself!" exclaimed Rose.

" Listen !" continued Will. " ' Unless, indeed, Graeme
should make up her mind to smile on Mr. Green and take
possession of the " palatial residence," of which he has just
laid the foundation near C .' "

" Here is a bit for you, Graeme. Nobody is to be left out,
it seems. It wUl be your turn next, Rosie," said Arthur, as
he went away laughing.

"But that is all nonsense about Arthur and httle Miss
Grove ?" said Rose, half questioningly.

" I should think so, indeed ! Fancy Arthur coming to that
fate," said Graeme. " That would be too absurd."

And yet the thought came uncalled several times that day,
and her repetitions of " too absui'd," became very energetic
in her attempts to drive it quite away. The thought was
unpleasantly recalled to her when, a day or two after, she
saw her brother, standing beside the Grove carriage, appa-

JANET S lA)\i: AND SEIiVICK

299

ust

rently so interested in his conversation A\*ith the pretty Fanny
that she and Rose passed quite close to them unobserved. It
was recalled niore unpleasantly still, by the obliging care of
Mrs. Gridlev, \vlio was one of then" fii'st visitors after their
return. The Grove carriage passed as she sat with them,
and, nodchug sigiiilicantly toward it, she said :

" I don't know whether I ought to congratulate you or
sympathize with you."

Graeme laughed, but she was very much afraid she changed
color, too, as she answered :

" There is no haste. When you make up your mind as
to which wiU be most appropriate, you will be in time."

" Ah ! you arc not to commit youi'self, I see. Well, you
ai'e quite right. She is a harmless httlc person, I believe,
and may turn out very vrell if withdra^^^l from the influence
of her stepmother."

Somotliing m Graeme's manner stopped the voluble lady
more efTectually than -swords could have done, and a rather
abrupt turn was given to ihe conversation. But Graeme
could not forget it. Not that she believed in the truth of
what JMr,s. GricUey had hinted at, yd she could not help
being annoyed at it. It was rather foohsh, she thought, for
Arthur to give occasion for such gossip. It was s6 unlike
him, too. And yet so little was enough to raise a rumor hke
that, especially with so kind a fiiend as Mrs. Gridley to keep
the ball rolling. Very likely -iVrthur knew nothing at all
about this rumor, and, as the thought passed tlu'ough her
mind, Graeme determined to tell him about it.

But she did not ; she could not do so — though why she
could not Avas a mystcr}- to herself. Sometimes she fancied
there was that in iVi'thur's manner which prevented her from
pursuing the subject, when an opportunity seemed to offer.
When he was nol; there, she was quite sure it was only her
own fancy, but no sooner was the name of Grove mentioned,
than the fancy returned, till the veiy sight of the Grovo
carnage made her uii-.omfor table at last, especially if the
lady of the mansion was in it. She never failed to lean for-

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ward and bow to them with tlio ^ivatoKt iiitrrost and polito-
Jioss ; and luoro tlian onco (Sraemo was left Ktandin^ looknif^
in at a Hhoi^window, wliilo Arthur obeyed tho bcclvoniiiLj
hand of tho lady, and wont to Hj)oak to her. Soinofcinioa tho
))rotty Fanny was thcro ; Roiiu'tinH^s sho was not. Ihit her
nbsonco did not Kot CJraomo'H uncoiufortal)lo f('('lin<jfs at rest
with ro'^ard to hor l)rothor.

And yet, why should she bo unconifortabh* ? sho aslcod
herself, a thousand times. "What right had slu; to interfere,
even in thout,dit, with her brother's friendship ? If ho ad-
mii'od ]\Iis9 Grove, if ovon ho wore attaclied to her, or en-
gaged to hei', it was nothing ^vith whit^h sh(^ could interfere —
nothing to which sho could even alludi; — until ho should
speak first. But then, of course, that was quite absurd I
Miss (irovo, though very pretty, and tho daughter of a man
who was reported to bo rich, was no more worthy to bo
Arthur's wife than

Oh ! of course it was all nonsense. No one had over
hoai'd throo words of common sense from thoso pretty lips.
Sho had hoard Aiihiu* say as much as that himself. Miss
Grove could dance and flu't and sing a little ; that was all that
could bo said for her, and to suppose that Arthur would ever —
And yet Graeme grew a httlo mdignant standing there
looking at, but scarcely seeing the beautiful things in Savage's
windov;, niid she inwardly resolved that never again should
she wait for tlio convenience of the free-and-easy occujiaut of
the carnage stantling a few doors down the street. She had
time to go over the same thoughts a good many times, and
the conclusion always was that it was exceedingly imperti-
nent of Mrs. Grove, and exceedingly foolish of Arthur, and
exceedingly disagreeable to herself, before she was recalled by
her brother's voice from her enforced contemplation of the
beautiful things before her.

" Mi*s. Grove wanted to speak to you, Graeme," said he,
■with a little embarrassment.

" I could hardly be expected to know that by itituition,"
said Graeme, coldly.

JANirr S LOVK AND bERVICE.

301

*' Sho bcckonod. Did you not roo ? "

"Slio bcH'konod to yon ; hUo would liardly v(!nturo on Much
a liberty witli mo. Tlioic is not tiu; nli;,'litcst upproiich to iii-
tim.'icy bc!t\vc!('U ns, and never will bo, uidosM I have p^roMy
luistakcn her cliaruotijr."

" Oh, well, you may v(!ry easily have done that, you know
very little about her. She thinks very hi;,'h]y of y(ju, I can
assure you."

"StufT!" ])ronouiicod (iraeme, with sucli emphasis that
she startled herself, and provok(;d a hearty lau^h from her
brother.

"I decliire, Graeme, I thor.rjht for the moment it was Harry
that spoke, or Mrs. (iridlcsy iu one of her least tolerant mooda.
It did not sound the least like you."

Graeme laughed, too.

" Well, I was thinking of Harry at the minute, and as for
Mrs. Gridley — I didn't mean to be cross, Arthur, but some-
thing disagreeable that she once said to mo did come into my
mind at the moment, I must confess."

" Well, I wish you a more pleasant siibject for mechtation
on your way home," said Arthur. "Wait till I sec if there
01*0 any letters. None, I believe. Good-bye."

Mrs. Gridley did not occupy Graeme's thoughts on her way
homo, yet they were not very pleasant. All the way along
the sunny streets she was repeating to herself, " so absurd,"
"so foolish," "so impertinent of ]Mi*s. Grove," " so disagi'ceable
to be made the subject of gossip," and so on, over and over
again, till the sight of the obnoxious carnage gave her a fie.sb
staii again. The lady did not becktm this time, she only bowed
and smiled most swcctl}'. But her smiles did not soothe
Graeme's ruffled temper, and she reached home at last quite
ashamed of her folly. For, after all, it was far less disagree-
able to call herself silly than to call Arthur foohsh, and Mrs.
Grove impertinent, and she would not think about it any
more. So she said, and so she repeated, still thinking about
it more than was either pleasant or needful.

One night, Charlie jMillar i)aid them a visit. He made no se-

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JA^■1:;TS LOVE AND aLllVlCK.

crct of Ilia (lolij^lit at tlioir return homo, declaring that ho
had not lc!io\vu wliat to do with hinisulf in their absence, and
that lie had not bi'cu (jiiite content or at his easo since he sat
in ( iraenie's ann-diair three montlui ago.

" One would not think s) from the visits vou have made us
since wo came homo," said Graeme, smiling. " You have only
looked in upon us. We were thinking you had forsaken us,
oi- that you had found a more comfortable arm-chair, at a
pleasauter fireside."

" Business, business," repeated Charho, gi'avcly. " I as-
sure you that Harry out there, and I here, have had all that
■wo have been al)le t(j attend to during the last three months.
It is oidy to the unexpected delay of tlic steamer that I ov/o
the leisure of this evening."

" You expect us to behevo all that, I suppose," said
Graeme, laughing.

" Indeed, you may believe me, Miss Elliott. It is quite
true. I can't understand how it is that my wise brother
can stay aAvay so long just now. If he docs not know
how much he is needed it is not for want of telling, I assure

you."

" You hear often from him, I suppose ? "

*' Yes. I had a note from Lilias the other day, in a letter
I got from my mother. She sent * land regards ' to the ^Misses
Elliott, which I take the present ojiportmiity of dehvcr-

in^'".

" Business having hitherto prevented," said Rose.

" You don't seem to have faith in my business engage-
ments, IMiss Bose ; but I assure you that Harry and I de-
serve gi'cat credit for having carried on the business so suc-
cessfully for the last three montlis."

""SVlicre is Mr. Gilchrist?" asked Arthur.

" Oh, he's here, there, and everywhere. But Mr. Gilchrist
is an ' old fogie,' and he has not helped but hmdered matters,
now and then. It is not oas}' gettmg on with those slow-
going, obstinate old gentlemen ; I can't understand how Al-
lan used to manage him so well. Howevcrj he had un-

JANETS hOVi: AM) SKRVICE.

303

bounded coufidcnoe in iVlluu's powers, and let him do as ho
pleased."

" And tlic obstinate oM ,c,'<!ntleinan has not unbounded con-
fidence in the powers of you and Hariy?'' said Arthur,
lauj^diinj^. "Upon the; wliole I think, in the absence of your
brother, it is as well that von two lads should have some chock
upon yon, now and then."

"Not at all, I assure you," said Charhe. "As for Hany —
Mi.ss Elhott, I wish I could tell you half the kind things I
hear about Harry from our correspondents out there."

Graeme smiled brightly. Shu was pcnnitting herself to rely
entirely upon Harry now.

" But, Chai-lie," said AVill. from liis coiT.er, " what is this
nonsense you have been telling HaiTy about Arthiu* and the
beautiful Miss Grove ? "

Charlie started and coltjrcd, and so did Graeme, and both
glanced hastily at Ai'tlnu", who neither stai'ted nor colored, as
Graeme was very glad to perceive.

" Nonsense ! " said Charlie, with a gi'cat show of astonish-
ment and mdignation. " I don't understand you, "NViU."

" "Will.," said lloso, laughing, "you are mistaken. It was
Mr. Green who had been hinting io IlaiTy sometliing you re-
member ; you read it to us the other morning."

"Yes, but Harry said that Charhe had been saying some-
thing of the same kuad," jjcrsisted simple Will., who never
dreamed of making any one feel uncomfortable.

" Hmting ! " repeated Charlie. " I never hint. I leave that
to Mrs. Gridley and her set. I think I must have told
Hai'ry that I had seen Aiihur in the Grove carnage one
morninpf, and another dav standing beside it talking to Miss
Fanny, while her mamma was in ordering nice things at
Alexander's."

Graeme laughed, she could not ln;lp it.

'' Oh, that terrible carriage ! " said Rose.

" A verj' comfortable and (.'onvenient camago I found it
many a time, when I was staging at Mrs. Smith's," said Arthur,
cooUy. " Mrs. Grove was so polite as to invite me to take a

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304

.IAIU:i ri LOVE AM> HKliVICE.

ill

Beat in it more ihiin once, and nuicli ol)ligC!d I was to hor
sonio of tliosu wjinn Aii^^nist iiu>i'nin,i,'s."

"So you Si'O, Will.," Ktiiil Cliiirlio, triuniphantly, "I was
toUinj:,' llarr ,' tlu! siini)lo tnitli, and he wan mean to acciwo
nic of liintinj,' 'nonsense,' as you call it."

•' I suppose that is what ^Irs. Giidlcy meant the other day
when she nodded so sij^iificantly toward the Grove carriage,
and asked wlu'ther she was to congratulate us."

Hose spoke with a little hesitation. She was not sure that
her brother would bo quite pleased by IMrs. (Jridley's con-
gratulations, and ho was not.

" Oh! if we are to have Mrs. Gridley's kind concern and in-
terest in our affairs, we shall advance rapidly," said he, a little
crossly. " It would of coiu'sc bo ver}' desirable to discuss our
alTairs with that prudent and cliari table lady."

" But as I did not suppose there was on that occasion any
matters to discuss, there was no discussion," said Graeme, by
no means unwilling tliat her brother should see that she was
not pleasod by his manner and tone to Rose.

"Oh! never mind, Graeme," said Rose, laughing, "wo
shall have another chance of being congratulated, and I only
hope Arthiu' may be hero himself. INIrs. Gridley was passing
when the Grove cariiago stood at oiu* door this morning. I
saw her while I was coming up the street. She will be hero
in a day or two to ofier again her congi'atulations or her
sj^mpathy."

"Was IMi'S. Grove here this morning? " enquired Arthur.
*'Slie must have given you her own message then, I sup-
pose."

" She was at the door, but she did not get in. I was out,
and Graeme was busy, and sent her ^^ord that she was
engaged."

" Yes," said Graeme, " I was helping Nelly, and I was in
my old blue wrapper."

"Now, Graeme," said Will., "that is not tlio least like you.
What about a wrapper ? "

" Nothing, of course. But a call at that hour is not at all

•IANCT's I.OVE and SKRVICi:.

305

times convenient, unless from one's intimate friends, and wo
are not intimate."

" But perhaps she designs to honor you with lier intimate
friendship," said CliarHe.

(Jraeme lau^died.

"I am very nuich obhgod to her. But I think wc could
each make a happier elicjicc of friends."

" She is a very cle .er woman, though, let mo tell you," said
Arthur ; " and she can make herself very agreeable, too, when
she chooses."

"Well, I cannot imagine over being charmed by her," said
Graeme, hastily. " There is something — a feeling that she
is not sincere — that would spoil all her attempts at being
agi'ccablo, as far as I am concerned."

" Smooth and fidse," said Charlie.

"No, Clia?lie. You arc nnieh too severe," said Arthur.
"Graemi": idea of insincerity is better, though very severe
for her. And, after all, I don't think that she is onsciously
insincere. I can scarcely tell v.liat it is that makes the dear
lady other than admira])le. I think it must be her tasle for
management, as Miss Fanny calls it. She does not seem to
be able to go straight to any point, but plans and arranges,
and thinks herself very clever when she succeeds in making
people do as she wishes, when in nine cases out of ten, she
would li;ive succeeded quite as well by simply expressing her
desires. After all, her manccuvering is very transparent,
and therefore very harmless."

" Transparent ! Harmless ! " repeated Charlie. " You
must excuse me if I say I think you do the lady's talents
great injustice. Not that I have any personal knowledge of
the matter, however : and if I were to repeat the current re-
ports. Miss Elliott would call them gossip and repudiate
them, and nic too, perhaps. She has the reputation of having
the ' wisdom of the scri)Gnt,' the slyness of the cat, I think."

They all laughed, for Ciiarlie had warmed as he went on.

" I am sm'e it must be very luicomfortable to have any-
thing to do with such a person," said Hose. " I should feel

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JANET S I.OVK AND SERVICE.

ffefc

as though I must be always on the watch for something un-
expected. "

" To bo always on the -watch for somethmg unexpected,
would be ratlicr uncomfortable — ' for a continuance,' as
Janet Vvould say. Bat I don't see the necessity of that with
Mrs. Grove. I think it must bo rather agreeable to have
everything arranged for one, with no tronblc. You should
hear Miss Fanny when in some difficult conjunction of cu'-
cumstances — she resigns herself to supeiior guidance.
• Mamma will manage it.' Certainly she does manage some
difficult matters."

There Nvas the fauitest echo of mimiciT m iVrthiu-'s tone,
as he repeated jMiss Fainiy's words, which Graeme was quite
ashamed of being glad to hear.

"It was very stupid of me, to be sure ! Such folly to snj>
pose that Arthur would fall into that shallow woman's snares.
No ; Aiihur's wife must be a very different woman from
pretty little Fanny Grove. I wish I knew anyone good
enough and lovely enough for him. But there is no haste
about it. Ah, me ! Changes will come soon enough, we
need not seek to hasten them. And yet, we need not fear
them whatever they may bo. I am very sm'e of that. But I
am very glad that there is no harm done.''

And yet, the harm that Graeme so much th'oaded, was
done before thi-oe months were over. Before that time she
had it from Ai'thur's own lips, that he had engaged himself
to Fanny Grove, one who, to his sisters, seemed altogether
unworthy of liim. Slio never quite knew how to receive liis
announcement, but she was conscious at the time of feeling
thankful ; and she was ever afterwards thanlcful, that she had
not heard it a day sooner, to mar the plcasui'c of the last few
hovu's of Norman's stay.

For Norman came with his bride even sooner than they had
expected. Graeme was not disapi)omted in her now sister,
and that is saying nmch, for her expectations had been
highly raised. 8ho had expected to find her an intellectual
and self-reliant woman, but she had not expected to see bo

JANET S LOYE AND SERVICE.

charming and lovable a little lady. They all loved her
dearly from the very first ; and Graeme satisfied Noniian by
her unfei^ied dchght in her new sister, who was frank, and
natural and childlike, and yet so amiable and wise as
well.

And Graeme rejoiced over Noi*man even more than over
Hilda. Ho was just what she had always hoped ho mi^ht
become. Contact ^uth the world had not spoiled him. Ho
was the same Norman ; perhaps a little graver than he used
to be in the old times, but in all things true, and fi-ank, and
earnest, as the Merle\'ille school-boy had been.

How they lived over those old times ! There was sadness
in the pleasure, for Nonnan had never seen the two graves in
that quiet churchyard ; and the names of the dead wore
spoken softly. But the bitterness of their grief had long been
past, and they could speak cheerfiill}' and ho2oefiilly now.

There w\as a gi'cat deal of enjoyment crowded into the few
weeks of tlicii* stay. *' If HaiTy were only liero ! " was said
many times. But Harry was well, and well content to bo
^ where he was, and his coming home was a pleasure which
lay not verj' far before them. Their \'isit came to an end too
Boon for them all ; but Norman was a busy man, and they
were to go home by Merloville, for Norman declared ho
should not feel quite assured of the excellence of his wife till
Janet had pronounced a})on her. Graeme v,as strongly
tempted to yield to their persuasions, and go to MerleviUo
with them ; but her long absence diu'ing the summer, and
tlie hope that they might go to Emily's wedding soon, de-
cided her to remain at honie.

Yer ; they had enjoyed a few •s\oeks of great hapjiincss ;
and tho very day of their departure brought upon Graeme
the pain which she had aim ;st ceased to fear. Arthur told
her of liis engagement to Miss (irove. Ilis story was very
short, an<l it was told with more sliamefafedness than was at
all natural for a triumphant lover. It did not matter much,
however, as tliero was no one to take note of the circum-
etances. From the first shock of astonishment and pain

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JANET S Lt)VE AM) SKKVICi:.

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which his announcement gave her, Graeme roused herself to
hear her brother say eagerly, even a little impatiently —

" Of course, tliis will iiuike no cliii'erence with us at homo ?
You will never think of going away because of this, lloso and
vou?"

By a great effort Graeme forced licrsolf to speak —

"Of course not, Ai'thur. What diilerenco could it make?
Where could we go '?"

When Arthur spoke again, which he did not do for a mo-
ment, his tone showed how much ho was reheved by his
sister's words. It was very gentle and tender too, Graeme
noticed.

" Of com'so not. I was quite sm'6 this would make no
change, father tlian my sisters should be made unhappy
by my — by this affair — I would go no further in it. My en-
gagement should be at an end."

" Hush, Arthur! It is too late to say that now."

" But I was quite siu'e you would see it in the right way.
You always do, (ilraeme. It was not my thouglit that you
would do otherwise. And it will only be a new sister, an-
other Ilosie to care for, and to love, Graeme. I know you
will be such a sister to my ^vife, as you have ever been to
Rose and to us all."

Graeme pressed the hand that Arthm* laid on hers, but
she could not speak. " If it had been any one else but that
pretty, vain cliild," thought she. She almost fancied she had
spoken her thoughi aloud, when Ai'tluu* said,

"You must not be hard on her, Graeme. You do not
kno^y her yet. She is not so wise as you are, perhaps, but
sue is a gentle, yielding little thing ; and removed from her
stepmother's inlluence and placed luider your's, she will be-
come in time all that you could desire."

She Wi)uld have given luuch to be able to respond heartily
and cheerfully to his appeal, biit she could not. Her heart
refused to dictate hopeful words, and her tongue could not
ha\e uttered them. She sat silent and grave while her brother
wds speaking, and when he ceased she hardly knew whether

JANETS LOVK AND SERVICE.

309

she wcro glad, or not to perceive tliat, absorbed in bin own
tliougbts, bo did not seem to notice ber silence or miss ber
sympatby,

Tbat nigbt Graeme's bead pressed a sleepless pillow, and
among ber many, many tbcMigbt" tbcre were few tbat were
not sad. Her brotber was ber ideal of manly ('xc(;llen(;o and
wisdom, and no cxercdse of cbarity on ber part could make
tbo bride tbat be bad cbosen seem otbcr tban weak, frivolous,
vain. Sbo sbrank bearisick from tbe contemplation of tbo
future, repeating ratber in sorrow and wonder, tban in anger,
" How could be be so blind, so mad ?" To ber it was incom-
prebensible, tbat witb bis eyes ojjcn bo could bavo placed bis
bappiness in tbo keoiung of cmo wlio bad been brougbt up
witb no fear of God before ber eyes — one wbosc bigbest
wisdom (bd not go b(>yond a knowledge of tlie paltry fasb-
ions and fancies of tbe world. He niigbt di-eam of bappiness
DOW, but bow sad Avould be tbo wakening.

It tbero rose in ber beart a feebng of anger or jealousy
against ber brotber's cboice, if ever tbere came a fear tbat tbo
love of years migbt come to seem of little wortb beside tbo
love of a day, it was not till afterwards. None of tbese min-
gled witli tbo bitter sadness and compassion of tbiit nigbt.
Her l)rotlier's doubtful future, tbo mistake be ba(.l made, and
tbe cbsappointment tbat must follow, tbe cliango tbat migbt
be wrougbt in bis cbaractcr as tbey went on ; all tbese carao
and went, cbasing eacli otber tbrougb ber mind, till tbe power
of tbougbt was well nigb lost. It was a miserable nigbt to
her, but out of tbo cbaos of doubts and fears and anxieties,
sbo brougbt one clear intent, one firm determination. 8be
repeated it to berself as sbo rose from ber sister's side in tbo
dawn of tbo dreary autumn morning, sbo repeated it as part
of ber tearful prayer, entreating for wisdom and strengtb to
keep tbe vow sbo vowed, tbat wbatever cbanges or disap-
pointments or sorrows migbt darken ber brotber's future, bo
sboukl find ber love and trust uiicbangod for ever.

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.Jilar!-.^

CHAPTER XXVI 1 1.

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ARTHUR ELLIOTT was a young man of good intellect
and superior acquirements, and he had ever been
supposed to possess an average amount of penetration, and
of that invaluable quality not. always foimd in connection
with superior intolloct — connnon sense. He remembered his
mother, and worshii^ped her memory. She had been a wiso
and earncst-niindcd woman, and one of God's saints besides.
Living for years in daily intercourse with his sister Graeme,
he had learned to admire in her the qualities that made her
a daughter worthy of sucli a mother. Yet in the choice of
one who was to be " till death did them part" more than sis-
ter and mother in one, the qualities which in them were his
pride and delight, were made of no account. Flesh of his
flesh, the lve(>pcr of his honor and his peace henceforth, the
maker or marrcr of his life's happiness, be it long or short,
was this pretty, unformed, wayward child.

One who has made good use of long opportunity for ob-
servation, tells me that Arthur Elhott's is by no means a
singular case. Quite as often as otherwise, men of high intel-
lectual and moral (qualities hnk their lot with women who
are far inferior to them in these respects ; and not always un-
happily. If, as sometimes happens, a woman lets her heart
slip from her into the keeping of a man who is mtclloctually
or morallj^ her inferior, happiness is far more rarely the re-
sult. A woman may, with such help as comes to her by
chance, keep her snlitarj/ way through life content. But if
love and marriagr>, or the ties of blood, have given her an
arm on which she has a right to lean, a soul on whose gnid-
auce she has a right to trust, it is sad indeed if these fail hei\
(310)

.TAXET ri I.OVJ: AND hLliVIClv

311

Lit if
V un
;-ukl-
hor.

For then slio lias no ri;^ht to walk !il')no, no iwwor to do so
happily. Hor intollo'jtnal auJ social life niu^t p;row togothor,
or one ranst gvow awry. AVliat God lias joined cannot bo
put asunder without Haltering or loss.

But it is possible for a man to separate his intellc(;tual life
from tliG quiet routine of social duties and pleasures. It is
not always ne(;essarv that ho should have tlie svnipatliv of
his housekeei:)cr, or even oi the mother of his diildren, in tin )S0
higher pursiiits and enjoyments, which is the tnie life. Tlio
rising doubt, whether the beloved one have eyes to see wliat
is beautiful to him in nature and art, may come with a chill
and a pang ; the certain knowledge of her ]:)lindncss must
come with a shock of pain. But when the shudder of tho
chill and the shock of the pain are over, he linds himself in
the place he used to occupy before a fair face spiiled dtnvn
on him from all high places, or a soft voice mingled v/ith all
harmonies to his entranced ear. He gi-ows content in time
with his old solitary place in the study, or v»itli striving np-
ward amid manly minds. When he returns to the quiet and
comfort of his well-arranged homo, the face that smiles oppo-
site to him is none the less beautiful because it beams only
for home pleasures and humble housoliold successes. Tho
voice that coos and murnnu's to his bal)y in the cradle, tliat
recounts as gi'cat events the little varieties of kitchen and
parlor life that tells of visits made and received, with items
of harmless gossip gathered up and kept for his hearing, is
none the less dear to him now that it can discourse of noth-
ing beyond. The tender care that surrounds him with quiet
and comfort in his houi's of leisure, in a little while contcnits
him quite, and he ceases to remember that ho has cares and
pains, aspirations and enjoyments, into which she can havo
no part.

But this is a digression, and I daresay there are many who
wUl not agree with all this. Indeed, I am not siu'o that I
quite agree with all my friend sjiid on this subjcvt, myself.
There are many ways of looking at the same thing, and if
all woro said that might be said about it. it ■would appear that

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312

JANET S LOVE AND SEIiTICE.

an incapacity on the part of the wife to share, or at least to
sjTiipatliizo with all the hopes, pursuits, and pleasures of her
husband, causes bitter pain to both ; certainly, he who cannot
assure himself of the sympathy of the woman he loves, when
he would pass beyond the daily routine of domestic duties
and pleasures, fails of obtaining the liighest kind of domestic
happiness,

Charlie Millar's private announcement to his friend HaiTy
of his brother Ai'thur's engagement, was in these words :

" The cfif(jrts of the maternal Grove have been crowned
with success. Your brother is a cajjtive soon to be chained — "

Cliarhe was right. His clear eye saw, that of which Ar-
thur himself remained in happy unconsciousness. And what
Charlie saw other i:)eople saw also, though why the wise lady
should Jet slip through her expert fingers the wealthy Mr.
Green, the great "Western merchant, and close them so firm-
ly on the comparatively poor and obscure young lawyer, was
a circumstance that could not so easily be understood. Had
the interesting fact transpu'ed, that the great Elias had not
so much slipped thi'ough her fuigers, as, to use his own forci-
ble and elegant language, " wriggled himself clear," it might
have been satisfactory to the world in general. But IMr.
Green was far away intent on more important matters, on
the valuation and disposal of fabulous quantities of pork and
wheat, and it is not to be supposed that so prudent a general
as Mrs. Grove would be in haste to proclaim her own defeat.
She acted a wiser part ; she took the best measures for cov-
ering it.

AVlien the j)retty Fanny showed an inclination to console
herself for the defection of her wealthy admirer by making
the most of the small attentions of the handsome young
lawyer, her mamma graciously smiled api^roval. Fanny might
do better she thought, but then she might do worse. Mr.
Elliott was by no means Mr. Green's equal in the great essen-
tials of wealth won, and wealth in prospect, still he was a
rising man as all might see ; quite presentable, with no
considerably, connections, — axcept perhaps his sisters, who

Janet's love and servick.

313

ight

could easily be disposed of. And then Fanny, thongli very
pretty, was "a silly little thing," she suid to herself with
great candor. Her beauty was not of a kind to increase
with years, or even to continue long. The chances were, if
she did not go oft' at once, she would stay too long. Then
there were her sisters gi'owing up so fast, mamma's own
darlings ; Charlotte twelve and Victoria seven, were really
quite tall and mature for their years, and at anyrato, it would
be a reUef to have Fanny well away.

Ajid so the unsuspecting youth enjoyed many a drive iu
the Grove carriage, and ate many a dinner m the Grove
mansion, and roamed with the fair Faimy by daylight and by
moonhght among the flowers and fi'uits of the Grove gardens,
during the three months that his brother and sisters passed
at the seaside. He made one of many a pleasant di'iving or
riding party. There were picnics at which his presence was
claimed m various places. Not the cumbrous affaii's which
called mto requisition all the baskets, and boxes, and available
conveyances of the invited guests — parties of which the aim
seems to be, to collect in one favored spot in the country,
all the luxuries, and au's, and graces of the town — but little
impromptu efforts in the same direction in which IVIi's. Grove
had all the trouble, and her guests all the pleasure. Very
channing little fetes her guests generally pronounced them to
be. Ai'thur enioye^d them vastly, and all the more that it never
entered into liis head, that he was m a measiu'e the occasion
of them all. He enjoyed the companionship of pleasant
peoi)le, brought together in those pleasant cu'cumstances.
He enjoyed the sight of the green earth, and the blue water,
the sound of the summer winds among the hills, the songs
of birds amid rustling leaves and waving boughs, until ho
came to enjoy at last the guardianship of the fair Fanny,
generally his on those occasions ; and to associate her pretty
face and light laughter with his enjoyment of all those pleas-
ant things.

Everything w^ent on naturally and quietly. There was no
open throwing them together to excite speculation in the

14:

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.TANKTti I.OVr. AM) MI'UVICi:.

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niiiuls of l)(>]ii)l(lors, or uncomf()i'l.!il)](^ itiiM.'^ivin{jf« in tlio
iniiids of those chiclly coiu'criicd. (^)uil(; ilio ('(^iilrary- If
unv wiitcliful faivv liad sii'j^jji'cHtcd to Arthur tho poHsibihtv of
Huch u wcl), !is tho skini'ul miiniiuji \\;\h w(>!iviii<;' urouiKl him,
ho would have lau;^h(Hl at the; idea aHtliOHnjjf^'cslion of a vory
illnaturod, cvihniudod sjiriio ind(!cd. Did not luaTuuia kc'cp
watchful eyes on Fanny ahvays ? liad nho not many and many
a time, intcrniptcd litllo {'onlid(>nc<'Hon Ihopart of the young
ladv, at tho rccolhu'tion of which lio wan Homotinicsinclin(>d to
sniilo? Had hIio not at all times, and in all places, acted tho
part of a prudent manuna to her pretty stepilau^ifl iter, and of
a considerate hostess to him, her unworthy jji'uest'?

And if the fairy, in Kolf-jiistidcation, had v(>ntnred further
to insinuate, that there is more than one kind of prudence,
and that tho prud(!nce of ]\rrs. drove was of anotluu* and
higher kind, than a sini])le youth could be suj>posed to eom-
ju'(>hend, his enlij^liteniuent miy^ht not yet have been accom-
plislunl. If it had been averrcnl that mamma's faith in her
dan[;-hter'a tact and conversational powei's was not sulTicient
to i)i^rniit her to alk)W tlu>ni to bo too sovcnily tried, ho
might have ])ausod to recall lu>r little airs and gestures, and
to weigh the airy nothings from those pretty lips, and he could
not but have acknowledged that mamma's faithlessness was
uot surprising. As to tho ultimate success of the sprite in
opening his eyes, or in breaking tho invisible meshes which
were meant to hold tho victim fast, that is quite another
matter. »•

But there was no fairy, good or bad, to mingle in their
nllairs, and thej^ llowcd smoothly on, to the content of all
concerned, till Graeme camo home from Cacouna, to play,
in Mrs. Grove's opinion, the part of a very bad fairy indeed.
She was mistaken, however. Graeme took no part in the
matter, either to niako or to r^ar. Even had she been made
aware of all the possibilities that might arise out of her
brother's short intimacy with the Groves, she never could
have regarded the matter as one in which she had a right to
interfere. So, if there came a pause in the lady's operations,

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JAM"!' ;i l,<»\i; AM) SKUVIC!'

315

play,

iced.

the

liado

her

Icuild

It to

Ions,

if Arlhur wan iwiu-o seldom ono of tlicir I'.irty, (!vcn wlion
Rppciiil piiiiiH liiul hccii iiiUvu to Hociii'o him, it avrh owing
to iio clloi'ls of (Jriicmc. If hv. hc^^iin to sciltlo down intotljo
old (ini<'t home life, it was Ixioiiuso th(* hfi; suited him ; and
(jraemc's inMiicnce was exerted and feh, only as it liad ever
be(;n in a silent, s\v(.'et, sisterly fashion, with no reference to
Mrs. (irove, or iu^r selicme.s.

J5ut tliat there came a pause in the efToclive operationH of
that clever lady, soon became (ivident to lu!rs(df. SI k; could
not conceal from herself or i\Iiss Fanny, that the beckoninj^H
from the carriajjfe window were iu)t ho <iuicldy mum, or ho
promptly respcMided to as of old. Not that this defection on
Arthur's part was ever discussed between them. Mrs. (Jrovo
liad not sutlicient confidence in hvv dauf^hter toaduiitof tliis.
Fanny was not reliable, mamma ft^lt. Indeed, she was very
soon talvinjjf consolation in the admiration excited b}' a pah'
of shiniiif^' epaid(!ls, which bcj^an about this time to glean^i
with considerable frciquency in theu* nei;j[hbfu-hood. But
mamma diil not b(.'li(!ve in oflio(;rs, at hsast matrimonially
8])ealdii^', and as to the; (ionsoLition to be derived from anew
flirtation, it was but doubtful and transitory at the best.
Besides she fancied tliat Mr. Fili(;Lt'H attentions had been
observed, and she was quite sure that his defection would be
so, too. Two failures succeeding' ea(;h other so rapidly, woiUd
lay her skill open to question, and " mar dear Fanny's pros-
pects."

And so Mrs. Grove coniccntratcd all her forces to meet the
emergency. Another invitation was given, and it was accept-
ed. In the single minute that preceded the cntrjinco into
the dining-roon, the iirst of a scries of decisive measures was
carried into crfect. With a voice that tremltled, and eyes that
glistened witli grateful tears, the lady thanked her "dear
friend" for the kind consideration, the manly delicacy that
had induced him to withdraw himself from their socicity, as
soon as he had become aware of the danger to her sweet,
but too susceptible Fanny.

" Fanny does not dream that her secret is suspected. But

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310

JANET S LOVn AND SERVICE.

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oil ! Mr. Elliott, when was a mother at fault when the happi-
ness of her too sensitive child was concernetl ? "

In vain Ai'thur looked the astonishment he felt. In vain ho
attempted to assure her in the strongest terms, that he had had
no intention of withdi*a\ving from their society — that he did
not understand — that she must he mistaken. The tender
mother's volubility was too much for him. He could only
listen in a very embarrassed silence as she wont on.

Mr. Elliott was not to suppose that she blamed him for the
unhapj)mess he had caused. She quite freed him from all in-
tention of wrong. And after all, it might not be so bad. A
mother's anxiety might exaggerate the danger ; she would
try and hope for the best. Change of scene must be tried ;
in the meantune her fear was, that pique, or woimded pride,
or disappointed affection might induce the imhappy child to

— in sliori INIr. Elliott must understand . And Mrs. Grovo

glanced expressively toward the wcai'er cf the sliining epau-
lets, with whom Ai-thur being unenlightened, might have
fancied that the mihappy child was canning on a jn'etty
energetic and prosperous llirtaiion.

But " pique and womided pride ! " He had never in all
his life experienced a moment of such intense uncomfortable-
ness as that in wliich he had the honor to liand the lady of the
house to her own well-appouited table. Indignation, vexa-
tion, disbelief of the whole matter spoiled his chnner effectu-
ally. ISIrs. Grove's exc[uisite soup might have been ditch-
water for all he knew to the contraiy. Tlie motherly concern
so freely expressed, looked to him dreadfully Hko sometliing
not so praiseworth3\ How she could look her dear Fanny in
the face, and talk so softly on indifferent subjects, after
having so — so umiccessarily, to say the least, betrayed her
secret, was more than he could understand. If, indeed, IMiss
Fanny had a secret. He wished very much not to beUeve it.
Secret or not, this was a very micomfortable ending to a
pleasant three months' acquaintance, and he felt very much
annoyed, indeed.

Not till course after course had been removed, and the des-

liing
my in

after
her

3kliss
eve it.

to a

macli

le des-

.lANKTS LOVK AND SKUVICK.

317

ficrt hail been placed on the tahle, did ho summon rcsohition
to with(h'a\v his attention from tlie not very intere.stin<^- con-
versation of his host, and turn his eyes to Miss Cirovo and
the (![)aul(;ts. 'i'iiu result of his nntnientary observation was
the (liscoveiy that the youn;,' lady was looking very lovely, and
not at all miserable. Greatly relieved, he ventui'ed an ap-
propritite remark or two, <jn the subject under discussion.
He was listened to with pcjliteness, but not with Misa Fanny's
usual amiability and interest, that was evident.

By and Ijy the f^entlemcn followed the ladies into tlio
drawing-room, and here Miss Fanny was distant and dignified
still. She gave brief answers to his remarks, and glanced
now and then toward the epaulets, of whom Mrs. Grove had
taken possession, and to whom she was holding forth with
great energy about something she had found in a book.
Ai'thur approached the centre taljle, Ijut Mrs. Grove was too
much occupied with Captain Starr to include him in the con-
versation. Mr. Grove was asleep in the dining-room still, Jiud
Arthur felt there was no help for him. Miss Fanny was left
on his hands ; and after another vain attempt at conversation,
he murnmred something about music, and begged to be p^er-
mitte'l to liand her to the piano. Miss Grove consented, still
with more than her usual digiiity and distance, andpropos id
to fiiug a new song that Caj^taiu Stan* had sent her. She «lld
sing it, very prettily, too. She had practised it a great du d
more than was necessary, her mamma thought, withi." the List
few days. Then she played a biilliant piece or two ; then I>Irs.
Grove, from the centre table, proposed a swecfc Scottish air, a
great favorita of hers, and, as it appeared, a great favorite of
]Mr. Elliott's, also. Then there were more Scottish airs, and
French aii's, and then there was a duet with Captain Starr,
and mamma withdiew Mr. Elliott to the centi-e table and the
book, and did not in the least resent the wandering of his
eyes and his attention to the piano, where the Captain's hand-
some head was at tunes in close proximity with that of the
fair nmsician. Then, when there had l;een enough of music.
Miss Grove returned to her embroidery, and Captain Starr

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318

JANKTS L«»Vi: AM) ••-KUVICI':.

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held lior cotton and Ikjv scissors, and talked such nonsonfio to
her, that Arthui" hcariui? him now and then in tlic pauses of
tho conversation, tliought him a jL^rcat simpleton ; and firmly
believed that Miss Fanny listened from "pique or wounded
pride," or somethinj^ else, not certainly because she liked it.
Not l)ut that she seemed to like it. She smOed and resjionded
ns if slie did, and was very land and p.'acious to the handsome
soldier, and scarcely vouchsafed ^to Mr. Elliott a single
glance.

By and by ]Mr. Grove came in and witlnh'cw IMr. Elliott to
the discussion of the harbor question, and as Arthur knew
cverythuig that could possibly be said on that subject, he had
abetter opportunity still of watclnng the pair on tho other side
of the table. It was very absurd of him, he said to himself,
and he reiieated it with emphasis, as the young lady suddenly
looking up, colored vividly as she met his eye. It was very
absurd, but, somehow, it was -scry interesting, too. Never,
during the whole course of their acquaintance^ had his mind
been so much occupVjd with the pretty, silly little creature.

It is very likely, the plan of piers and cnibanlmients, of
canals and bridges, which Miss Fanny's working implements
were made to represent, extending from an imaginary Point-
St.-Charles, -past an imaginary GrilHntown, might have been
worthy of being laid before tho town council, or tho com-
missioner for public works. It is quite possible that j\Ir.
Grove's explanations and illustrations of his idea of the new
harbor, by means of the same, might have set at rest the
doubts and fears of the over-cautious, and proved beyond all
controversy, that there was but one way of deciding the matter,
and of securing the prosperity of Mount Royal City, and of
Canada. And if Mr. Grove had that night settled the vexed
cpestion of the harbor to the saiisiaction of all concerned,
he would have deserved all the i-rrdit, at least his learned and
talented legal adviser would have deserved none of it.

It was very absurd of him, he said again, and yet the inter-
est gi'ew more absorbmg every moment, till at last he received
a soft relenting glance as he bowed over ]\:Iis8 Fanny's white

Ji;

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

319

hand when ho said <:foo!l-iii<jfht. Ho had one unoomfortablo
niomont. It was when ^Irs. Grovo hoped aloud that they
should SCO him often, and then added, for his hcaiinff alono,

"It would look so odd, you know, to forsake us quite."

He was uncomfortable and indijjfuant, too, when th(; cap-
tain, as they walked down tlie street topfether, commented in
a free and easy manner on jMiss drove's "good points," and
wondered " whether the old chap had tin enough to malco it
worth a fellow's pauis to follow up the impression he seemed
certain ho had made." lie Avas uncomfortable when ho
thong] it about it afterward. AVhat if *"pi(iue, or wounded
pride, or disappointed atl'cction " should tempt the poor ht-
tlc girl to throw herself avray on such an ass! It would bo
sad, indeed.

And then ho wondered if Miss Grovo reaUy cared for him
in that way. Surely her stepmother would not have spoken
as she liad done to him on a mere suspicion. As he kept on
thinking about it, it began to seem mf)re possible to him, and
then more pleasant, and what with one thing, and what with
another, Miss Fanny began to have a great many of his
thoughts indeed. Ho visited (irovo House a good many
times — not to seem odd — and saw a good deal of ]Miss Fanny.
Mamma was prudent still, and wise, and far-seeing, and how
it came about I Ginnot tell, but the result of liis visits, and
the young lady's smiles, and the old lady's management was
the engagement of these two ; and the first iniimation that
Graeme had of it was given by Ai-thur on the night that Nor-
man went away.

Tune passed on. Tlie wedding day was set, but there
were many tlimgs to be brought to pass before it should ar-
rive. Graeme had to finish the task she had set for herself
on the night when Arthur had bespoken, her love and care
for a new sister. She had to reconcile herself fully to the
thought of the man'iage, and truly the tasli did not seem
to her easier as time went on. There were moments when
she thought herself content with the state of affairs, when, at
least, the commg in among them of this stranger did not

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JANICT S LOVK AM) MIUVICK.

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seem altopfothcr like tlio cud of Mioir h!i|)|\v lifo, -when IMiss
(irovo scohuhI a swoet aiul lovablo litllo tliin-^f, and (Iraonio
took hdpo for Avtluiv. This was {i;onorally on l.lu)so occasions
wlicn ihcy wore pormittoel to liavc; I'aniiy all to themselves,
Avhcn she ^\■olll(l come in of lu>r own acconl, in the early part
of the clay, dressed hi her pretty mi>rnin<:f attire, ^vithont hov
company manners or linery. At such times she wuh really
very eharminji;', and llitted about their little parlor, or sat on
a footstool ehatterinf^ with Hose in a way that (luitc won her
heart, and almost reconciled the elder sister to her brother's
choice.

But there were a j^'eat many ehaneos ap^amst the pleasure
lastinpf beyond the visit, or even to the end of it. On more
than one occasion (iraeme had dispatched Nelly as a messen-
ger to Arthiu', to tell Inm that Fanny was to Innch with them,
thonj^li her magnanimity involved the necessity of her prepar-
hv^ the •^•catcr part of that pleasant meal with luu* own
hands ; but she was almost always sorry for it afterward.
For Fanny never apjiearcd a<^Teeabl(> to her in Arthur's pre-
sence ; and what Avas worse to bear still, Arthiu* never ap-
peared to advantage, m his sister's eyes, in the presence of
Miss Grove. The coquettish airs, and pretty tyrannical ways
assumed by the young lady toward her lover, might have ex-
cited only a little uncomfortable amusement in the minds of
the sisters, but to see Arthur yielding to all her whims and
capiices, not as onc^ yields in a})pearance, and for a time, to a
pretty spoiled chi^d, over whom one's authority is only dele-
gated and subject to appeal, but ivnlh/ as though her whims
were wisdom, and her caprices tlie result of mature delibera-
tion, was Miore than Graeme could patiently endur(\ It was
irritatini; to a deg/ee that si le could not alwa\s control or
conceal. The lovers were usually too nuich occupii'd with
each other to notice the discomfort of the sisters, but this in-
ilitl'erence did not make the folly of it all less distasteful to
them : and at such times Graeme used to fear that it was vain
to think of ever growing continit with tlie future before^ tlu>m.

And almost as disagreeable were the visits which Fanny

JANLT 8 LOVK AND 8KICVlC'i:.

321

ram

'in.

mado with lior stopmotlior. Those bccamo a prcat {l(>al morn
froqnout, diinn<^ tlie last few inonthK, than (Jraonie Uu)iif^ht
at all necessary. '1 lu\y used to call on their Wiiy to pay visits,
or on their return from shoppinji; exiK>ditioiis, and the very
si^ht of their carriage of state, and their tine array, made
Graenu; and Koso uneomfortable. The little airs of superi-
ority, with whieh Miss Fanny sometimes favored thom, wore
oidy assumed in the pn^seneo of mamma, and W(>re }i[enerally
called forth hy some allnsion inadc by her to the future, and
tliey were none the less disaj^reeable on that account. How
would it bo. when Fanny's marriage should ^ivo her stei>
inoth(;r a sort t»f ri^ht to advise and direct in their household?
At present, her delicate attemi)ts at jxiti'cmaf^e, her hints, BWg-
gestivc or coiTCctive, were received in silence, thou'^di resented
in private with sufficient encrnfy by Hose, and sometimes even
by (Iraeme. ]3nt it could not bo so ahvavs, and sho should
never be able to tolerate the interference of that vain, meddle-
some, snperlieial woman, she said to herself many a time.

It nmst bo confessed that (Jraeme was a little unreasonable
iu her dread and dislike of Fanny's clever st(!pmother. Some-
times she was oblijijed to confess as nmch to herself. More
than once, about ihis time, it was brou«^ht home to her con-
science that she was unjust in her judgment of her, and hor
motives, and she was st;irtled to discover the strength of hor
feelings of dislike. ]Many times she foimd herself on the
point of dissenting from opinions, or opposing plans projiosed
by IMrs. Grove, with whic;h she might have agreed bad they
come from any one els(\ It is true her ojiinions and plans
were not generally of a nature to commend themselves to
Graeme's judgment, and there was rather apt to bo more in-
tended bv tliem thtui at first laet the evo nd ear. As Miss
Fanny said on one occasion, " One cou- ' -ever tell what
inamma meant by what she said," and the consi'(]uen<fe often
was iin uncomfortable stat(> of expectation or dou'oton the part
of those who were included in any arrangement depenil(>nt on
inamma. Yet, her schemes were g(!nerally qnit(^ harmless.
They were not so deep as to bo dimgerous. The little insin-
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jamet's love and service.

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ccrities incident to their almost daily intercourse, the small
deceits made use of in shopping, marketing, making visits, or
sending in^^tations, were no such mighty matters as to jeop-
ardize the happiness, or even the comfort of any one with
eyes keen enough to detect, and with skill and will to circum-
vent them. So Graeme said to herself many a time, ? iid yet,
saying it she could not help suffering I "srseK to be made nn-
comfortable still.

The respect and admiration wliich IVIrs. G-rove professed
for Miss Elliott might have failed to propitiate her, even had
she given her credit for sincerity. They were too freely ex-
pressed to be agreeable under any circumstances. Her joy
that the Elliotts were still to form one household, that her
doar thoughtless Fanny was to have the benefit of the elder
sister's longer experience and sujierior wisdom was gi'eat, and
her surprise was gi'cat also, and so was her admhation. It
was so dear in Miss Elhott to consent to it. Another person
might have resented the necessit;y of having to take the second
place, where she had so long occupied the first in her brother's
house. And then to be superceded by one so much younger
than lierseK, one so much less wise, as all must acknowledge
her dear Fanny to be, was not, could not be pleasant. ]\Iiss
Elliott must be a person possessing extraordinary qualities,
indeed. How could she ever be grateful enough that her
wayward child was to have the advantage of a guardianship
so gentle and so judicious as her's was sui*e to be ! Sho
only hoped that Fanny might appreciate the privilege, and
manifest a proper and amiable submission m the new circum-
stances in which she was to be placed.

Graeme might well be imcomfortable under all this, know-
ing as sho did, that mamma's private admonitions to her
"wayward daughter" tended rather to the encouragement of
a " judicious resistanco " than of " a proper and amiable sub-
mission " to the anticipated rule. But as a necessary abdica-
tion of all hou^^.ehold power made no part of Graeme's
trouble, except as she might sometimes doubt the chances of
a prosperous administration for her successor, she was able

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323

to restrain all outward evidence of discomfort and indigna-
tion. She was the belter able to do this, as she saw that the
clever ladv'a declaration of her sentiments on this subiect,
made Ai-thiu* a little micomfortable too. He had a vague idea
that tlie plan as to their all continuing to Hve together, had
not at first been so delightful to IVIi's. (jlrove. He had a
remembrance that the doubts as to how his sisters might like
the idea of liis intcndod mamage, had been suggested by
her, and that these doubts had been coupled with hints as to
the proper means to l)e taken in cAlcr that the happiness of
her dear daughter might be secui*ed, ho remembered vei-y
well ; and that she had expected and desired no assistance
from his sisters to this end, he vras very well assured.

" However, it is aU right now," said Arthur, congratulating
himself. " Graeme has too much sense to be put about by
mamma's twaddle, and there is no fear as far as Famiy and
she arc concerned."

Tlie extent to which " mamma's twaddle " and other matters
"put (Jraeme about" at this time she concealed quite, as far
as Ai'thur was concerned. The best was to be made of things
now ; and though oho could not help wishing that his eyes
might be more useful to him on some occasions, she knew
that it would not have mended matters could he have been in-
duced to make use of her clearer vision, and so her doubts
and fears were kept to herself, and they did not gi'ow fewer
or less painful as time went on.

But her feelings changed somewhat. She did not cease to
gi'ieve in seciet over what she could not but call Arthiu''s
mistake in the choice he had made. But now, sometimes
nnger, and F.ometimes a little bitter amusement mingled with
bor sor^'ow. There seemed at times something ludicrous in be-
stowing her pity on one so content with the lot ho had chosen.
She was quite sure that Arthiu* would have smiled at the little
follies and inconsistencies of Miss Grove, had he seen thorn
in any one els*^' She remen«bored that at then* first acquaint-
ance he had smiled at them in her. Xwc how bhnd he was!
All her little defects of character, so painfully apparent to

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JANET S LOVi; AM) KEIiVICK.

his sisters were quite invisible to him. She was vciy amiable
and charming" in his eyes. There were times when one
might have supposed that he looked upon her as the wisest
f».nd most sensible of women ; and he began to listen to her
small views and assent to her small opinions, in a way, and
to an extent that would have been amusing if it had not been
painful and imtating t.) those lookmg on.

Graeme tried to iix'Iieve that she was glad of all this — that
it was better so. If it was so that these two were to pass
their lives togethei', it was well that they should be blind to
each other's faults. Somehow mariicd people seemed to get
on together, even when their tastes, and talents, and tempers
difTered. If they loved one another that was enough, she
supposed ; th« .-(^ must be something' about it that she did not
understand. . . ' rate, there was no use vexing herself
about Ai'thur .iO\, . '^^ he was content, why should net she
be so ? Her brother's happiness might be safer than she
feared, but whether or not, nothing could be changed now.

But as her fears for her brother were put fi'om her, the
thought of what the future might bring to Rose and her,
came oftener, and with a sadder doubt. She called herself
foolish and faithless — selfish even, and scolded herself \'igor-
ously many a time : but she could not drive away her fears,
or make herself cheerful or hopeful m looking forward.
\Vlien Ai'thiu' should come quite to see with Famiy's eyes, and
hear with her cars, and rel}-- upon her judgment, would they
all live as happily together as they had hitherto done ? Fann}',
kept to themselves, she thought she Mould not fear, but in-
fluenced by her stepmother, whoso principles and practice were
so difi'erent fi'om all they iiad been taught to consider right,
how might their lives be changed !

And so the weddhig-day was drawing nigh. As a part of
her marria_,e-portion, Mr. Grove was to present to his
daughter one of the handsome new houses in the neighbor-
hood of Ct)kunbus Square, and there the young lady's mar-
ried life was to commence. The house was quite a little for-
tune in itself, Mrs. Grove said, and she could neither under-

Janet's love and servick.

325

stand nor approve of the manner in which her triumphant an-
nouncement of its destination was received by the Elliotts. It
is just possible that Arthur's intimate knowledge of the state
of his future father-in-law's affairs, might have had something
to do with his gi*avity on the occasion. The troubles in the
mercantile world, that had not left untouched the long-
established house of Elpliinstone & Co., had been felt more
seriously still by ]Mr. (^Irove, and a doubt as to whether he
could, with justice to all concerned, withdraw so large an
amount from his business, m order to invest it for his
daughter's benefit, could not but suggest itself to Arthur. Ho
was not mercenary ; it would not be true to say he had not folt
a certain degree of satisfaction in knowing that his bride
would not be altogether undowered. But the state of j\Ii\
Grove's affairs, was, to say the least, not such as to warrant
a present withdrawal of cai)ital fi*om his business, and .(Vi'thm'
might well look grave.

Not that he troubled himself about it, however. Ho had
never felt so gi'catly elated at the prospect of mari-ying an
heiress, as to feel much disappointed when the prospect be-
came doubtful. Ho knew that Miss Grove had a light to
something which she had inherited from her mother, but he
said to himself that her right should be set aside, rather than
that there should be any defilement of hands in the transfer.
So, if io IMrs. Grove's surprise and disgust, ho remained silent
when she made known the mimificent intentions of Fannv's
father, it was not for a reason that he chose to discuss with
her. His remarks were reserved for IMr. Grove's private eai",
and to him they were made with sufficient plainness.

As for Graeme, she could not but see that their anticipated
change of residence might help to make certainties of all her
doubts and fears for then' future. If she had dreaded
changes in their manner of life l)eforo, how much more were
they to be dreaded no.v? They might have fallen back, after
a time, into tlieu* old, (piet routine, w4ien Fanny had (piite be-
come one of them, had they been to remain stUl in the homo
where they had all been so happy together. But there

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jankt's love and service.

seemed little hope of anything so pleasant as that now, for
Fanny's handsome house was in quite a fashionable neighbor-
hood, away from their old friends, and that would make a sad
difference in many ways, she thought ; and all this added
much to her misgivings for the futm*e.

" Fanny's house ! " could it ever seem hke home to them 1
Her thoughts flew back to Janet and MerleviUe, and for a
little, notwithstanding all the pain she knew the thought
would give her brother, it seemed possible — nay best and
wisest, for her and Rose to go away.

" However, we must wait awhile ; we must have patience.
Things may adjust themselves in a way that I cannot see just
now."

In the lesson, which with tears and prayers and a good-
will Graeme had set herself to leam, she had got no farther
than this, "We must wait — we must have patience." And
she had move cause to be content with the progress she
had made than she thought ; for, amid all the cures for the
ills of life, whif ^ wisdom remembers, and which folly forgets,
what better, what more effectual than " patient waiting ? "

CHAPTER XXIX.

A RE you quite sure that you are glad, Graeme."

" I am very glad, Will. Why should you doubt it ?
You know 1 have not so heartsome a way of showing my
delight as Eosie has."

" No. I don't know any such thing. I can't be quite glad
myself, till I am sure that you are glad, too."

"Well, you may be quite sure, Will. It is only my old
perverse way of looking first at the dark side of things, and
this matter has a dark side. It will seem less like home
than ever when you are gone, Will."

" Less like home than ever !" rejjeated Will. " Why,
Graeme, that sounds as if you were not quite contented with
the state of affairs."

"Does it?" said Graeme, laugliing, but not pleasantly.

" But, Graeme, everything has turned out better than we
expected. Fanny is very nice, and "

"Yes, indeed," said Graeme, heartily. "Everj'thing has
turned out .nuch better than we used to fear. I remember the
time when I was quite afi*aid of Fanny and her fine house —
my old perversity, you see."

"I remember," said Will., gravely.

" I was quite morbid on the subject, at one time. Mamma
Grove v;as a perfect night-mare to me. And really, she is —
well ! she is not a very formidable person, after all."

" Well, on the whole, I think we cor.ld disjjcuse with mamma
Grove," said Will, with a shrug.

" Oh ! that is because she is down upon you in the matter
of Master Tom. You will have to take him. Will."

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JANET S LOVE AND SKEVICK.

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" Of course. But then, I would do a great deal more than
that for Fanny's brother, without all this talk."

" But then, without ' all this talk,' as you call it, you might
not have discovered that the favor is done you, nor that the
letter to her English friend will more than compensate you,
for gomg fifty miles out of yom* way for the boy."

" Oh ! well, it is her way, and a very stupid way. Let
her rest."

'* Yes, let her rest. And, Will., you are not to think I am
not glad that you are going home. I would choose no other
lot for you, than the one that is before you, an opportunity
to prepare yourself for usefulness, and a wide field to labor
in. Only I am afraid I would stipulate that the field should
be a Canadian one."

" Of course. Canada is my home."

" Or Merle\'ille. Deacon Snow seems to think you are to
be called to that field, when you are ready to be called."

•' But that is a long day hence. Perhaps, the deacon may
cliange his mind, when he hears that I am going home to
learn from the ' British.' "

" There is no fear. Sandy has completed the work which
my father and Janet began. Mr. Snow is tolerant of the
North British, at any rate. What a pleasant life our Merle-
ville hfe was. It seems strange that none of us, but Norman,
has been back there. It won't be long now, however."

" I am afi'aid I cannot wait for Emily's wedding. But I
shall certainly go and see them all, before I go to Scotland."

" If you do, I shall go with you, and spend the summer
there."

" And leave Rose, here ?" said Will., in some surprise.

" No. I wish to go for Rose's sake, as much as for my
own. It seems as though going to Merle\'iUe and Janet,
would put us all right agam."

"I hope you may both be put right, without going so
far," said Wm.

" Do you know, Will., I sometimes wonder whether I can
be the same person who came here with Rose and you ? Cir-

JANKT 8 LOVE AND SIOEVICE.

329

cumstanccs do change people, Avhctlior tliey will or not. I
think I should conio back to my old self ap^ain, with Janet
to take me to task, in her old sharp, loving way."

" I don't think I understand you, Graeme."

" Don't you? AVell, tliat is evidence that I have changed;
and that I have not improved. But I am not sure that I un-
derstand myself."

""What is wrong with you, Graeme."

" I cannot tell you, Will. I don't know whether the A\Tong
is with mo, or with matters and things in general. But
there is no good in vexing you, unless you could tell me how
to help it."

"If I knew what is wrong I might try," said Will., gravely.

" Then, tell me, what possible good I shall be able to do in
the world, when I shall no longer have you to care for?"

" If you do no good, you will fall far short of your duty."

" I know it. Will. But useless as my way of life is, I can-
not change it. Next year must bo like this one, and except
nursing you in yoiu' illness, and Fanny in hers, I have done
nothing worth naming as work."

" That same nursing was not a little. And do vou call tho
housekeeping nothing? It is all verj- well, Fanny's jingling
her keys, and playing lady of the house, but we all know
who has the care and trouble. If last vear has nothing to
show for work, I think you may make the same complaint
of all the years that went before. It is not that you are
getting weary of the ' woman's work, that is never done,' is
it, dear ?"

" No, Will. I hope not. I think not. But this last year
has been very different from all former years. I used to
.have something definite to do, something that no one else
could do as well. I cannot explain it. You would laugh at
the trifles that make the difference."

**I see one difference," said Will. " You have the trouble,
and Fanny has the credit."

" No, Will. Don't say that. I don't think that troubles me.
It ought not ; but it is not good for Fanny, to allow her to sup-

330

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

pose she has the rcsponsibihty and caro, when she has not,
rcall}'. And it is not fair to her. "Wlicn the time coracs that
she must liave them, she will feci the trouble all the more for
her present d(;lusion. And she is learning nothing. She is
utterly careless about details,and complicates matters when she
thinks she is doing most, though I must say, Nelly is very toler-
ant of the ' whims' of hor young mistress, and makes the best
of everything. But Will., all tliis must sound to you like
finding fault with Fanny, and indeed, I don't wish to do any-
thing so disagi'eeable."

*' I am sure you do not, Graeme. I think I can under-
stand yom* troubles, but I am afraid I cannot tell you how
to help them."

" No, Will. The kind of life we are living is not good for
any of us. What I want for myself is some kind of real
work to do. And I want it for Rose."

" But, Graeme, you would never surely think of going away,
— I mean, to stay always ?"

"Why not? We are not needed here. Rose and I. No,
Will. I don't think it is that I am gi'owing tired of ' woman's
work.' It was very simple, humble work I used to do, trifles,
odds and ends of the work of life; stitching and mending,
sweeping and dusting, singing and playing, reading and talk-
ing, each a trifling matter, taken by itself. But of such
trifles is made up the hfe's work of thousands of women,
far wiser and better than I am; and I was content with it.
It helped to make a happy home, and that was much."

"You have forgotten something in your lish of trifles,
Graeme, — ^your love and care for us all. "

" No, Will. These are implied. It is the love and care
that made all these trifles really ' woman's work.' A poor
dreary work it would be without these."

'* And, Graeme, is there nothing still, to sanctify your daily
labor, and make it work indeed ?" said Will. »

There is, indeed. Will. If I were only siu'e that it is my
work. But, I am not sure. And it seems as though — some-
where in the world, there must be something better worth

JANKTS LOVK AND SEliVKi:.

asi

3n,

fly

Ith

the namo of work, for mo to do," And letting her hands
fall inlior lap, she looked a'.vay over Ihe numljerlcsa roofs tf
the city, to the {^roy Une of the river, beyoud.

" Oh ! Will.," she went on in a little, " you do not know.
You who have your life's work laid out Ijefore you, can never
understand how it is \\ith inc. Yoii know the work before
you is your work — givc-n you bj' (lod himself. You need
have no misf,'ivin;^'s, you can make no mistake. And look
at the diflerence. Think of all the years I may have to spend,
doing the forgotten ends of another's duty, filling up the
time with trifles, visits, frivolous talk, or fancy work, or other
thmgs which do good to no one. And all the tune not know-
ing whether I ought to stay in the old round, or break away
from it all — never siu'e but that elsewhere, I might find whole-
some work for God and man."

Very seldom did Graeme allow herself to put her troubled
thoughts into words, and she rose now and went al)out the
room, as if ,si.'3 wished to put an end to their talk. But
Will, said,

" Even if it were true and real, all you say, it may not be
for long. Some day, you don't know how soon, you may
have legitimate ' woman's work' t<3 do. — love, and sympathy,
and care, and all the rest, without encroaching on Fanny's
domain."

He began gravely, but blushed and stammered, and
glanced with laughing deprecation at liis sister, as he ended.
She did not laugh.

"I have thought of that, too. It seems so natui'al and
proper, and m the common com'se of things, that a woman
should marry. And there have been times, during this last
year, when, just to get away fi'om it all I have thought that
any change would be for the better. But it would not be

right, unless

she hesitated.

" No, unless it was the right person, and all that, but may
we not reasonably hope that the right person may come ?''

" We won't talk about it. Will. There must be some other
way than that Many women f.jd an appropriate work to

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JA^'ETB LOVi; AND SERVICE.

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do without iJQarryin;^. I wish I could do as the Mcrlcvillo
gii'ls used to do, spin and weave, or keep a school."

" But, they don't spin and weave now, since the factories
have been built. And as for school-keei)ing "

"It would bo work, good wholosouie work, in which,
with God's help, I might try to do as our father and mother
did, and leave the world better for my labor."

" But you could not jiai't fi'om Rose, and Ai'thur could
never be made to see it right that you should go away,"
said Will.

" Rose should go with mc. And Arthur would not like it
at first, nor Fanny, but thoy would reconcile themselves to it
in time. And as to the school, that is only one kind of work,
though there are few Idnds left for a woman to dp, the moro's
the pity."

'• There is work enough of the best khid. It is the re-
muneration ihat is scant. And the remuneration could not
be made a secondary consideration, if you left h(mie."

"In one sense, it ought to be secondary. But I tliink
it must be delightful to feel that one is 'making one's
hving,' as Mr. Snow would say. I shoukl like to know how
it feels to be quite independent Will., I must confess."

"But, Graeme, there is no need; and it would make Ar-
thur quite unhappy, if ho were to hear you speak m that
way. Even to mo, it sounds a little hke pride, or discontent."

"Does it, Will. That is dreadful. It is quite possible
that these evil elements enter into my vexed thoughts. We
won't speak any more about it. Will."

" But, why should we not speak about it ? You may be
quite right. At anyrate, you are not likely to set yourself
right, by keeping your vexed thoughts to yourself."

But, if Graeme had been ever so willing, there was no
more time just now. There was a knock' at the door, and
Sarah, the housemaid, presented herself.

" If you please. Miss Graeme, do you think I might go
out as usual. It is Wednesday, you know."

Weihiesday v\'as the night of Ihc weekly Icctm'c, in Sarah's

JANETS I-')Vi: AXn SKUVrCE.

333

3lf

go
's

Mrlc. She was a pood little givl, and a worshipper in a small
way of a popular younj^ pieaohcr of tho day.

"If Ndly thinks she can n)ana;,'o without you," said
Graeme.

" It was Nelly pi'oporsed it. She can do very well, imless
Mrs. Elliott brings homo sonio one with her, which is un-
likely so Lite."

" Well, go then, and don't b(3 late. And bo sure ycu conio
home with tho Shaws' Sarah," said Miss Elliott.

" They arc late," said "Will. " I am afraid I cannot wait
for chmier. I promised to bo with Dr. D. at seven."

They went down stahs together. Nelly remonstrated,
with great earnestness against Will.'s " putting himself off
with bread and cheese, instead of dinner."

" Though 3'ou need care the less abcmt it, that tho dinner 's
spoiled already. The fowls wercna much to begin with. It
needs sense and discretion to market, as well as to do most
things, and folk that A\inna come homo at tho right hour
must content themselves with things overdone, or else in the
dead thraw."

" I am very sorry Will, should lose his dinner," said
Graeme ; "but they cannot be long m coming now."

" There 's no sajing. They may meet in with folk that may
keep them to suit their am convenience. It has happened
before."

]\Iore than once, when Fanny had been out with her mother,
they had gone for Arthur and dined at Grove house, without
giving duo notice at homo, and the rest, after long waiting,
had eaten their dinner out of season. To have a success in
her depai"tment rendered vain by careless or culpable delay,
was a trial to Nelly at iiny time. Aiid if j\Irs. Grove had
anythuig to do with causmg it, the trial was all the greater.

For Nelly — to use her own words — had no patience with
that '• meddlesome person." Any mterferenco on liei' part in
household matters, was considered by her a reflection on the
housekeeping of her young ladies before Mrs. Arthur came
among them, and was resented accordingly. All hints, sug-

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334

JANl/r tj LOVE AND SERVICK.

gcstions, rcf'ipcs, or even direct instnictions from her, were
iiUeiiv ignored b;y Nell_y, when it could be done without posi-
tive disobedience to Miss Graeme or Mrs. Elliott. If direct
orders made it necessary for her to do violence to her feelings
to the extent of availuig herself of Mrs. Grove's experience, it
was done under protest, or with an open mcredulousness as
to results, at the same time initating and amusing.

She had no reason ro suppose that Mrs. Grove had any-
thing to do with her venation to-night, but she chose to as-
sume it to be so, and following Graeme into the dmuig room,
whore "Will, sat conter.tedly eating his bread and cheese, she
said,

" As there is no coimting on the time of their home coming,
with other folks' convenience to consult, vou had best let me
bring up the dinner. Miss Graeme."

" We wiU wait a few minutes longer. There is no haste,"
said Graeme, quietly.

Graeme sat a long time looldng out of the window before
they came — so long that Nelly came up stau's again intending
to expostulate still, but she did not ; she went down again,
quietly, muttering to herself as she went,

" I '11 no* vex her. She has her ain troubles, I daresay,
with her young brother going away, and many another thing
that I ken nothing about. It would ill set me to add to her
vexations. She is not at peace with herself, that 's easy to bo
seen."

CHAPTER XXX

/^ KAEME was not at peace with herself, and had not
\^^^ been so ior a long time, and to-night she was angry
with herself for having spoiled Will.'s pleasure, by letting him
see that she was ill at case.

" For there is no good vexing him. He cannot even ad-
vise me ; and, indeed, I am afraid I have not the coui'age
really to go away."

But she continued to vex herself more than was wise, as
she sat there waiting for the rest in the gathering darkness.

They came at last, but not at all as they ought to have
come, with the air of culprits, but chatting and laughing
aaenily, and quite at then* Icism-c, accompanied — to NeUy's
indignant satisfaction — by Mrs. Grove. Graeme could
hardly restrain an exclamation of amusemeut as she
hastened toward the door. Rose came fii-st, and her sister's
question as io then* delay was stopjied by a look at her
radiant face.

" Graeme, I have something to tell j'ou. What is the
most dehghtful, and almost the most unlikely tiling that
could happen to us ? "

Graeme shook her head.

"I should have to consider a while first — I am not good
at guessing. But won't it keep ? Nelly is out of all
patience."

But Rose was too excited to heed her.

"No ; it won't keep. (»ucss who is coming — Janet! "

Graeme uttered an exclamation of surprise.

•' Arthiu* got a letter from I\Ir. Sncjw to-day. Read it."

Gi'aeme re^d. Rose looking over her shoulder.

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"I am very glad. But, Eosie, you must make haste.
Fanny will be down in a minute, and Nelly is impatient."

" No wonder ! But I must tell her about Mrs. Snow."

And with her bonnet in her hand, she went dancing down
the kitchen stau's. Nelly would have been in an implacable
humour, indeed, if the sight of her bright face had not
softened her. Regardless of the risk to mushns and riljbons,
she sprang at once into the midst of the delayed prepara-
tions.

" Nelly ! ^Vlio do you think is coming ? You will never
guess. I may as well tell you. IMi's. Sn w ! "

" Eh, me ! That 's news, indeed. Take care of the gravy,
jMiss Rose, dear. And when is she coming ? "

There was not the fauitest echo of rebuke in Nelly's tone.
Tbcro was no possibility of refusing to be thus included in
the family joy, even in the presence of overdone fowls and
mined vegetables. Besides, she had the greatest respect for
the oldest fi'iond of the family, and a gi'eat desire to see her.
She looked upon her us a wonderful person, and aspired in a
humble way to imitate her virtues, so she set the gravy dish
on the table to hear more.

" And when will she be coming ? " she asked.

"Some time in June. And, Nelly, such preparations as
we shall have ! But it is a shame, we kept dinner waiting.
We could not help it, indeed."

"You dinna need to tell me that. I heard who came
with you. Carry you up the plates, and the dinner will bo
uj) directly."

" And so, your old nurse is coming ? " said Mi's. Grove,
after they had been some time at the table. " How dehght-
ful ! You look quite excited. Rose. She is a very nice per-
son, I believe, Miss Elliott."

Graeme smiled. Mrs. Grove's generally descrijjtivo term
hardly indicated the manifold vu'tues of their fiiend ; but,
before she could say so, IMrs. Grove continued.

" We must think of some way of doing her honor. We
must get up a little fete — a pic-nic or something. Will she

jaxet's love axd service.

337

stay here or at Mr. Birnic's. She is a fi'icncl of his, I suppose,
as Itoso stopped him in the street to tell him eho is coming.
It is rather awkward havmg such people staying in tho
house. They are apt to fancy, you know ; and reall^', one
cannot 'lovote all one's time — "

Rose sent her a glance of indignation ; Graeme only
smiled. Arthur had not heard her last remai'k, so he
answered the first.

*-I doubt such things would hardly be in Mrs. Snow's
way. jNIrs. Grove could hardly make a lion of our Janet, I
fancy, Graeme."

" I fancy not," said Graeme, quietly.

" Oh ! I assui'e you, I shall be willing to take any trouble.
I truly appreciate humble worth. We so seldom find among
the lower classes ami;liing like the faithfulness, and tho
gi-atitud J manifested by this person to yoiu* family. You
must tell me all about her some day. Rose."

Rose was regarding her with eyes out of which all indigntt-
tion had passed, to make room for astonishment. Mrs.
Grove w^ent on.

" Did n't she leave her husband, or something, to come
with you ? Certainly a lifetime of such devotion should bo
rewarded — "

*' By a pic-nic," said Rose, as Mrs. Grove hesitated.

" Rose, don't be satirical," said Arthur, trying not to lau;^'i.

" I am siu*e you must be dehghted, Fanny — Arthur's (jld
nurse you know. It need not prevent you going to tho sea-
side, however. It is not you she comes to sec."

"I am not so sure of that," said Arthur, smiling across
tho table to his pretty wife. " I fancy Fanny has as much
to do with the visit as any of us. She will have to be on her
good behaviour, and to look her prettiest, I can assure her."

" And Janet was not Arthur's nurse," said Rose. " Graeme
was baby when she came first."

" And I fancy nursing was but a small part of Janet's
w^ork in those dnys," said Arthur. " She was nurse, and
cook, and housemaid, all in one. Eh, (Jraeii)e? "
. 15

l.l

338

JAXr.TS LUVE AM) SERVICE.

.■S!i

f I

■g'l

"Ay, antl more than that — rnoro than could bo told in
words," said Graeme, Avith glistcnin£^ eyes.

" And I am sure you will like her," said Rose, looldng
straight into ]\Irs. Grove's face. " Her lu;sband is very rich.
I think he must be almost the richest man in Merle ville."

Arthur did not rc^provo Rose tliis time, though she well de-
served it. 8I10 road her reproof m Graeme's look, and
blushed and hung her head. She did not look very much
abashed, however. She Imew Arthur was enjoying the home
thrust ; but the subject was pursued no farther.

"Do you know, Fanny," said Mrs. Grove, m a little, "I
saw Mrs. Tihuan tliis morning, and a very superior person
she turns out to be. She has seen better days. It is sad to
see a lady — for she seems to have been quite a lady — so re-
duced."

" And v»-lio is Mrs. Tihnan," asked Artluur.

Fami}' looked annoyed, but her mamma went on.

"She is a person jNIi's. Gridiey was speakmg to Famiy
about — a very worthy- person mdeed."

"She was speaking to you, you mean, mamma," said
Fanny.

" Was it to me ? Well, it is all the same. She is. a widow.

She lived in Q a while and then came here, and was a

housekeeper in Haughton Place. I don't know why she
left. Some one married, I think. Since then she has been
a sick nurse, but it did n't agi*ee with her, and lately she has
been a cook in a small hotel."

" She seems to have experienced vicissitudes," said Ai'thur,
for the sake of saying something.

" Has she not ? And a very worthy person she is, I under-
stand, and an admirable cook. She markets, too — or she
did at Haughton House — and that is such a relief. She
must be an invaluable servant."

"I should think so, indeed," said ^\i-thur, fiS nobody else
seemed inchned to say anything.

Graeme and Rose were speaking about Janet antl her ex-
pected visit, and Fanny sat silent and embarrassed. But

Jz\NET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

339

Nelly, uasy in talcing away the things, lost nothing of what
was said ; and Mi-s. Grove, strange to say, was not altogether
inattcutivc to the changing face of the energetic table maid.
An uncomplimentary remark had escaped the lady, as to the
state of the overdone fowls, and Nelly " could put this and
that together as ^^■cll as another." The operation of removing
the things could not be indefinitely prolonged, however, and
as Nelly shut the door Mrs. Grove said,

" She is out of place now, Fanny, and would just suit you.
But you must be prompt if you wish to engage her."

" Oh ! there is no hui'ry about it, I suppose," said Fanny,
glauchig uneasily at Graeme. But Graeme took no notice.
Mrs. (irove was rather in the habit of discussing domestic
affau's at the table, and of Icaviiig Graeme .out of the conver-
sation. She was very willing to be left out. Besides, she
never thought of influencing Fanny in the presence of her
stepmother.

" Oh ! but I assiu'c vou there is," said ]\Ii's. Grove.
" There are several ladies wishing to have her. Mrs. Ruthven
among the rest."

" Oh ! it is such a trouble changing," said Fann}-, wearily,
as if she had had a trying experience and spoke advisedly.

" Not at all. It is only changing for the worse that is so
troublesome," said Mrs. Grove, and she had a right to know.
" I advise you not to let this opportunity pass."

" But, after all, Nelly does very well. She is stupid some-
times and cross, but they are all that, more or less, I fe-uj^)-
p{ise," said Fanny.

" You are quite right, Fanny," said Arthur, who saAv that
his wife was annoyed without very well lai owing why. "I
daresay Nelly is a better servant — notwithstanding the un-
fortunate chickens of to-day, which was om* own fault, you
know — than the decayed gentlewoman. She will ho a second
Janet, yet — an institution, an established fact in the history
of the family. AVo couldn't do wiihout Nolly. YAi,
Graeme ? "

(iraeme smiled, and said nothuig. Rose ans\V( rod for her.

3tO

•JANKTS LOVK AM) hKUVICK.

i:i;

fit

K ' ■

:''0i

"Ni>, iii(l(M'il. I (im K') ^liul Nelly will mci Mvh. Snow."

"Very well," H.'iid Mrs. (Jr>)V(\ "Siuco AEis.s I'jllioit Hooins
to bo HjitiMlu'd with Nelly, I snp]>()H(! slio must sttiy. It is i\
pity you hsitl not known Hoonor, Fanny, ho iis to savo mo tho
troublo of m.'ikinj^ an appointment for her. But she may as
W(>11 come, and you can soo her at any rate."

Her <'arria;;e boinj^ at tho door, she went away, and a
ratlu r awkward silence followed her departure.

"What is it all about! Who is Mrs. TilmanV" asked
Arthur.

"tSome one I^Irs, Grove has seen," said r«racme, evasively.

" But what about Nelly ? Surely you are not thinking' of
chau<j;infif servants, (Iraemo?''

*' Oh ! 1 hope not ; but Nolly has been out of sortfi lately —
gi'umbled a little — "

" Out of sorts, j;ruml)letl ! " exclaimed Fanny, vexed that
IVIrs. (irove had introduced the subject, and more vexed still
that Arthur should have addressed his question to Graeme.
" She has been very dis;igi'eeable, indeed, not to say imijoi-ti-
ncnt, and I shall not bear it any lon«;:fer."

Poor little Fanny could hardly keep back her tears.

"Impertinent to you, Fanny," cried Graeme and Arthiur iu
a breath.

" Well, to mannna — and she is not very respectful to mo,
sometimes, and manuna says N(^lly has been lon^ en(JUfi[h
here. Sc^rvants alwjiys take liberties after a time ; and, bo-
sides, she k)oks upon Crraemo as mistress rather than mo.
She (piite treats me like a child," conthmod Fanny, hov in-
di<T^nation increasin{:f as she proceeded.

•* And, besides," she added, after there had been a moment's
uncomfortable silence, " Nelly wishes to go."

"Is Barkis willinj^ at last?" said Arthiu*, tryinjj to laugh
off the (hscomfort of the moment.

Bose laughed too. It had aiVorded them all much amuse-
nient to watch the slow courtship of the (lignifi(>d jVfr.
Stirling. Nellj' always denied that there was anything more
in the gai'dcucr's attentions, than just the good-will and friend-

JANF.TM liOVR AND HmiVICK.

341

lincRS of a coiuitryiiuui, mid ho (icrtjiiiily wiis a lonfj tiiuo in
coming to tlus i)oiiit tliey all aclciiowltMl^cd.

"NoiiHoiiHc, Artljur! That lias notliing to <lo with it,"
Haid Fanny.

" Thoii, slio nniHt bo j^'oin^' to her Ki,st(;r — tho lady with a
fabulouH nuiuhcr of (!ow.s and chiJdron. Slio has Hpokcn
abcnit that cvory Huninuir, more or Icsh. Her oonsoionco
pricks her, every new baby she heara of. But she will jjet
over it. It is all nonsense about her leavinj^."

" But it is not nonsense," said Fanny, shaiply. " Of course
Graeme will not like her to f^o, but Nelly is very obslinato
and disafj^'oeablt;, and niannna says I sliall never be mistress
in my own house while she stays. And I think we ouj^dit
to take a good servant when we have tho cliance.'*

"But how good a servant is slieV" asked Arthur.

" Ditln't you hear what niarnma said about her? And, of
course, she has references and written characters, and all
that sort of tlnng."

" Well, I think we may as well ' sleep upon it,' as Janet
used to say. There will be time enough to decide after to-
night," said Arthur, taking up his newspaper, more annoyed
than ho was willing to confess.

Tho rest sat silent, lloso was indignant, and it needed a
warning glanco from (Iraeme to keep her indignation from
overflowing. Oraemci was indignant, but not sur^jrised.
Indeed, Nelly had given warning that she was to leave ; but
she hoped and behoved that she would think better of it,
and said nothing.

She was not indignant with Fanny, but with her mother.
She felt that there was some truth ui Fanny's declaration,
that Nelly looked upon luu* as a child. She had Nelly's own
word for that. She c(Misidored her young mistress a child to
be hiunored and " no' heeded " when any serious business
was going on. But Fanny would not have found this out
if loft to herself, at least she would not have resented it.

Tho easiest and most natural thing fi^r Graeme, in tho
turn affairs had taken, would be to withdi'aw from all inter-

342

.TANF/rS LOVE AND SF^RVICK.

■V'5

ferciico, ami let thinji^s take their course ; but just because
this woulil be easiest and most aj^rceable, she hesitated. Slio
felt that it would not be right to stand aside and let Fanny
punish herself and all the rest because of the meddlesonio
folly of IVIrs. Grove. Besides, it would be so ungratefid to
Nelly, who had served them so faithfully all those years.
And yet, as she looked at Fanny's poutinj^ lips and fi'owniiig
br(jw, her doubts as to the propriety of interference grew
stronger, and she could only say to herself, with a sigh,

" We must have patience and wait."

And the matter was settled without her interference,
though not to her satisfaction. Before a week, Nelly was on
her way to the country to lyiake acquaintance of her sister's
cows and children, and the estimable Mrs. Tilnum was in-
stalled in her place. It was an uncomfortable time for all.
Hose was indignant, and took no pains to hide it. Graeme
was annoyed and sorry, and, all the more, as Nelly did not
see fit to confine the stilliiess and coldness of her leave-tak-
ings to Mrs. Elliott as she ought to have done. If half as
earnestly and fi'ankly as she expressed her sorrow for her de-
parture, Graeme had exprcsscid her vexation at its cause,
Nelly would have been content. But Graeme would not
compromise Fanny, and she would not condescend to recog-
nize the meddlesomeness of ]\Irs. Grove m their aflairs. And
yet she could not bca::.* that Nelly should go away, after five
years of loving service, with such angiy gloom in her kind
eyes.

" Will you stay with your sister, Nelly, do you tliink ?
or will you come back to town and take another place?
There are many of our friends who would be very glad to
get you."

" I 'm no' sure, Miss Elhott. I have grown so fi'actious
and contrary lately that maybe my sister winua care to have
me. And as to another place "

Nelly stopped suddenly. If she had said her say, it woidd
have been that she could bear the thought of no other place.
But she said nothing, and went away — ^ran away, indeed.

.JANKT S JA)Vi: AM) SKKVICK

343

For when she saw the soiTowfiil tears in Graeme's eyes, and
folt tlio warm pr(\ssiiro of her hand, she felt she must run or
Ijreak out into tears ; and so she ran, never stt^^piny to answer
when Graeme said :

" You T let us hear from you, Nelly. You '11 surely let us
hear from you soon V"

Tiiere was very little said ahout the now order of affairs.
The remonstrance which Fanny expected from Graeme never
came. Mrs. Grove continued to discuss domestic affaii's,
and to leave Graeme out, and she was quite willing to be
left out, and, after a little, things moved on smoothly. Mrs.
Till 11 an was a verj' rospei 'table-looking person. A httle stout,
a little red in the fat , perhaps. Indeed, very stout and veiy
red in the face ; so stout that Arthur suggested the propriety
of having the kitchen stahcase widened for her benefit ; and
so red in the face as to induce Graeme to keep her eyes on
the kcvs of tlie sidelxxard when Fannv, as she was rather
apt to do, left them lying about. She was a very good ser-
vant, if one might judge after a week's tiial ; and Fanny
might have triumphed openly if it had not been that sho
felt a little uncomfortable in finding herself, witiiout a strug-
gle, sole ruler in their domestic world. IMrs. Tilman mark-
eted, and purchased the groceries, and that in so dignified a
manner that Fanny ahnost wondered whether the looking
over the grocer's book and the butcher's book might not bo
considered an impertinent interference on her part. Her
remarks and allusions were of so dignified a character tis to
impress her young mistress ^Yonderfully. She Avas almost
ashamed of their limited estabhshment, in view of Mrs Til-
man's magnificent experiences. But the dignitied cook, or
housekeeper, as she preferred being c died, h[id profitted by
the afflictive dispensations that seemed to have fallen upon
her, and resigned herself to the occupancy of her pref^ent
humble sphere in a most exemi)lary manner.

To be sure, her marketing and her shopping, interfered a
little with her less conspicuous duties, and a good deal more
than her legitimate share of work was left to Sarah. Bnt

• /

'■A

!■

844

JANKTS LOVE AND SERVICK.

fortunately for lior and the houscliokl generally, Graeme was
as ready as ever to do the odds-and-euds of other people's
duties, and to remember things forgotten, so that the do-
mestic machinery moved on with wonderful smoothness.
Not that Nelly's departure was no longer regretted ; but in
her heart Graeme believed that they Avould soon have her
in her place again, and she was determined that, in the mean-
time, all should bo pleasant and peaceful in their family life.

For Graeme had set her heart on t^^'o things. Fu*st, ^hat
there should be no drawback to the i^leasure of IVIi's. Snow's
visit ; and second, that IMi's. Snow should admire and love
Arthur's wife. She had had serious doubts enough herself as
to the wisdom of her brother's choice, but she tried to tliink
herself quite contented with it now. At any rate, she could
not bear to tliink that Janet should not be quite content.
Not that she was very much afraid. For Graeme's feelings
toward Fanny had changed very much smce she had been
one of them. She was not very wise or sensible, but she
was very sweet-tempered and affectionate, and Graeme had
come to love her dearly, especially since the very severe ill-
ness from which Fanny was not long recovered. Her faulty
at least many of them, were those of education, which she
would outUve, Graeme hoped, and any little disagreeable dis-
play which it had been their misfortune to witness dming
the year could, directly or indirectly, be traced to the influence
or meddlesomeness of her ' ?pmother, and so it could easily
be overlooked. This influence would grow weaker in time,
and Fanny would improve in consequence. The vanity and
the carelessness of the feelings of others, which were, to
Graeme, her worst faults, were faults that would pass away
with time and experience, she hoped. Indeed, they were not
half so apparent as they used to be, and whether the change
was in Faimy or herself she did not stop to inquire.

But she was determined that her new sister should appear
to the best advantage in the eyes of their dear old friend, and
to this end the domestic sky must be kept clear of clouds.
So Mrs. Tilman's administration commenced under the most

JANETS LOVK AND SKIJVICE.

I]45

favorablo oii'fcninstanc'os, and tlio sui-prisc which all felt at tho
quietness with which this f^'cat doinostic revolutitni had been
brought about was beginning to give place, on Fanny's pai-t,
to a little tiiumi^hant self-congratulation which Rose was
mclincd to resent. Graeme did not resent it, and Rose was
ready to for{.nvo Fanny's triumph, since Fanny was so ready
to share her d'^light at the thought of Mrs. Snow's A-isit. As
for "Will., he saw nothing in the whole cuvle of events to dis-
turb anybody's equanimity or to regret, except, perhaps, that
tho attraction of the Mclntj-re children and cows had proved
irresistible to Nelly at last. And Ai'thur congratulated him-
self on the good sense and good management of his little
wife, firmly believing in the wisdom of the deluded httlo
creature, never doubting that her skill and will were equal to
the triumphant encounter with any possible domestic emerg-
ency.

15*

CHAPTER XXXI.

! I

THEY ciinio at last. Arthur and Will, mot tlicm on tho
other Hiilo of the rivt^r, and Gracnio and Rose wonld
fain have done tho sanio, but because of falling rain, and be-
cause of other reasons, it was thought not best for them
to go.

It was a veiy quiet meeting — a little restrained and tearful
just at first ; but that wore away, and Janet's eyes rested on
tho bairns fi'om whom she had been so long separated with
love and wonder and earnest scrutiny. The}' had all changed,
she said. Arthur was like his father ; "Will, was like both
father and mother. As for Rosio

' ' Miss Graeme, my dear," said Mrs. Snow, *' I tliuik Rosio
is nearly as bonny as her sister Marian," and her eye rested
on the girl's blushing face with a tender admiration that was
quite as much for the dead as for the li\ing. Graeme had
changed least of all, she said ; and yet in a little she found
herself wondering whether, after all, Graeme had not changed
more than any of them.

As for Fannv she foiuid herself in danger of being ovei'-
looked in tho general joy and excitement, and went about
jinghng her keys, and rather ostentatiously hastening tho
preparations for the refi'eshmcnt of the travellers. She need
not have been afi-aid. Her time was commg. Even now
she encountered an odd glance or two fi'om Mr. Si -w.
who was walking off his excitement in the hall. Th lO

was admiration mingled with the cui'iosity they ex]^. ssed
was evident, and Fanny relented. What might soon hnvo
become a pout on her pretty lip changed to a smile. They
(84G)

.lANKTS r/)Vi: AND SERVICE.

wcro soon OH very fricmlly terms witli ciicli other, and ho,-
foro JiiiK i liiul j;(»(, llir()ii;^li with lier fii'Mt tremiih)UH rorofjf-
iiitinii of her ])iiii'iiH, 'S\v. Snow fmicied ho h:i(l iiiado a just
chUiikiIi! (4* the (|U;dities — <^'oo(l — :iiid not so };c)()d — of ilie
l)rett_y lilth; hoilsckecixT.

Al'ter (hniier nil were num; id their cas(!. IMr. Snow WiJked
up !ind down tlie {^uHeiy, past th(> open window, and Arthur sat
there heside him. "J'hey wen; not so far witluh'awn fi-om tho
rest hut tliat they (;ould join in tho conversation tliat went on
within. Fanny, tired of tlio di^niity of housekeci)inj,', broii^^dit
u footstool and cat down beside (Jraemo, and Janet, scein^j
how naturally and loviii,<.^ly the liand of the elder sister rested
on the pretty bowed h.ad, {^'ave the little lady more of her at-
tention than slie had hitherto done, and ^row rather silent in
the serntiny. (Iraeme j^rew silent too. Indeed she had been
rather silent all the afternoon ; partly bectuisc it pleased her
best to listen, and j^artly because she was not always sure of
her voiee when she tried to speak.

She was not allowed t<j be silent lonff, however, or to fall
into recollections too tender to be shared by them all. Hose's
extraordinary restlessness prevented that. She seemed to
have lost the power of sittin^^ still, and flitted about from one
to another, now cxehani^inj,' a word with Fanny or AVilh, now
joinin;^ in the conversation that was goinfj on between Mr.
Snow and ^Vithur outside. At one moincnt she was hanging
over (Jraeme's chair, at the next, kneeling at Mrs. Snow's
side ; and all the time with a face so radiant tliat even AVill.
notii'cd it, and bogged to bo told the secret of her d( light.

The truth w^s, lioso was having a little private jubilation
of her own. She would not have confessed it to Graeme, she
was shy of confessing it to herself, Imt as tho time of jVIrs.
Snowy's visit a]iproached, she had not been quite free fi'om
misgivhigs. She had a very distinct recollection of theu'
frierid, and loved her dearly. But she found it quite impossi-
ble to recall the short active figui'e, the rath(;r scant dress,
the never-tiling hands, without a fear that the visit might b(5
a little disappointing — not to themselves. Janet would al-

' *l

348

JAJ^ETS LOVE AND BEIi\ ICE.

V f' -J

wajH 1)0 Janot to thorn — tlic dear fi-iond of their childhood,
with ni'jro real worth in horlittlo ini<j^or than there was in ion
such fine ladies as Mrs. (novo. But ]loso f^iew in(h<^iant
beforehand,, as sho iinagin>'!d the snpercilions smiles and
forced politeness of that lady, and pca-haps of Fanny too,
when all this worth should appear in the form of a little, plain
old woman, Avith no claim to consideration on account of
extcniak.

But that was all jiast now. And seeing her sitting there iu
her full brown travelling dress, her snowy neckerchief and
pretty quaint cap, looking as if her life might have been
passed with folded hands ir a velvet arm-chair, Rose 's mis-
givings gave place to triumphant self-congratnlrtion, which
was rather uucomfoi-table, because it could not well be shai'od.
She had assisted at the arrangement of the consents of the
travelling trunk in ^vardvobe and bm'oau, and this might <;tve
helped her a little.

" A soft black silk, and a grey poplin, and such lovely neck-
erchiefs and handkerchiefs of lawn — is not little Emily a dar-
ling to make her motiier look so nice '? And such a beauty
of a shawl ! — that 's the one Sandy brought."

And so Rose came down-stairs triumphant, Anthout a single
di'awbaok to mar the pleasiu'e with which she regarded Janet
as she sat in the arm-chair, letting her gi*avc admiring glances
fall alternately on Griicme and the pretty creature at her feet.
All Rosie's admii'ation was for Mrs. Snow.

" Is she not just like a picture sitting there ?" sho whis-
pered to Will, as sho passed him.

And indeed Rcsie's admiration was not smpiising ; sho
was the very Janet of old times ; but she sat there in Fanny's
handsome drawing-room, Mith as much appropriate ness as
she had ever sat in the manse kitchen long ago, and looked
over the vases and elegant trifles on the contrc-table to
Graeme with as much ease and self-possession as if sho had
been " used with" fine things all her life, and had never held
anxious counsels with her over jackets and trowsers, and Uttle
half-worn stockings and shoes.

. \\l

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

340

And 3'ot thern was no real cause for suii^i'iso. For Janet
was ono of tlioso whose modest, yet firm self-respect, join(;d
with a just appreciation of Jill worhlly thin^^s, loaves to
dian<>ing cintmnstanees no power over their unchanf^ing
worth.

That ]M'r. Siiow should spontl tho tinii) devoted to their
visit within four walls, was not to bo thou^;ht of. The deacon,
who, in the opinion of those who knew him best, " had the
faculty of doing 'most an-^-thing," had certainly not the faculty
of sittnig still in a ohaii' hke other people. The hall or the
gallery was his usual place of promenade, but when the in-
terest of the conversation kept him with the rest, Fanny suf-
fered constant anxiety as to the fate of ottomans, vases and
little tables. A judicious re-arrangement of these soon gave
him a clearer space for iiis perambulations ; but a man a t-
custoined to walk miles daily on his own land, could not be
expected to content himself long within such narrow limits.
So one Ijrii^ht morning he renewed the proposal, made long
before, that Will, should show him Canada.

Up to a comparatively recent period, all ^Ir. Snow's iih^as
of tho coiuitiy had been got from the careful reading of an
old " History of the French and Indian War." Of cou\"so, by
this time he had got a little beyond the behef that the <i;ov-
ernment was a military despotism, that the city of Montreal
was a cluster of wigwams, huddled together within a circular
enclosure of palisades, or that tho commerce of the couniry
consisted in an exchange of beads, muskets, and bad whisk(;y
for the furs of the Aborigines. Still his ideas were \aguo
and indistuict, not to say disjiaraging, and he had already
quite u! icons 'iously excited the amusement of Will, and the
indignation of Kosc, by indulging in remarks indicative of a
low opinion of things in g(Micral in the (Queen's dominions.
So when he proi)()sed that Will, should show him Canaila,
Kose l(3okt;d gravely up and asked,

" Where will you go first, M'ill. V — to the Red river or Hud-
son's Bay or to Nova Scotia ? You must be l)ack to lunch."

They all laughed, and Arthur said,

350

JANET S LOVE AM) HERVICE.

" Oh, fio, Rosii; ! not to know these pLiccs arc nil beyond
the lunits of Canada! — such ij^orr.nee !"

" They arc m the (Queen's dominions, though, and jMi\ Snow
■wants to see all that is W(n'th seeing on British soil."

" Well, I giicss ^^■c can make out a full day's work in Can-
ada, can't wc ? It 's best to take it moderate," said Mr. Snow,
smiling benignly on Rose. He was tolerant of the young
lady's petulance, and not so ready to excite it as he used to
be in the old times, and generally listened to her little sallies
with a deprecating smile, amu.sing to sec.

Ho was changed hi other rcsiiccts as well. Indeed, it must
be confessed tliat just at (irst Arthm* was a little disappo'iited
in him. He had only a slight personal acq" lintancc with
bun, but he had heard so nuich of him from the others that
he had looked forward with interest to making the accpiaint-
ancG of the "shaip Yankee deacon." For Harry had a good
story about " Uncle Sarnpsou" ready for all occasions, and
there ^^■as no end to the shi'cwd remarks and scraps of worldly
■wisdom that ho used to quote from his lips. But Hany's
acquaintance had been confined to the first years of their
Merlcviilo life, and Mr, Snow L'ad changcsd much since then.
He saw all things in a lu^w light. AVisdom and folly had
changed their aspect to him. The charity which " bclieveth
and hopcth all things," and which " tliiiiketh no evil," lived
within him now, and made him slow to sec, and slower still
to comment upon the faults and foibles of others with the
sharpness that ustnl to excite the nihth of the lads long ago.
Not that lie had forgotten how to criticise, and that soveri-ly
too, whatever ho thought deserscd it, or would be Ihe better
for it, as WiU. had good reason to know before lie had done
much in the way of "showing him Canada," but .' e far nioro
fre(]uently sur[)rised them all by his gentle tolcranci; towards
what might bi", displcashig to him, and by his (iuick appreci-
ation of vvhatever was admirable in all lie f^aw.

The lirst few days of siglitw'ein;( wwc passisl in th(^ cily
and its environs. With th<j towu itself he was greatly plwisod.
The great grey stone structures suited him well, suggesting,

JANKT S LOVE AND SERVICE.

351

as they often do to the people {icciistomccl to bouses of brick
or wood, ideas of strcnf^th and permanence. But as he was
usually content with an outside view of the buildhiss, with
such a view as could be obtained by a slow drive throu<:^h the
streets, the town itself did not occupy him long. Then came
the wharves and sliipg ; then tliey visited the manufactories
and workshops, lately become so munerous in the neighbor-
hood of the canal. All these pleased and interested him
gi'eatly, but he never failed, when oppoi-tmiity offered, to point
out various particulars, in wliicih he considered the Montreal-
ers "a Jedlc behind the times." On the whole, however, his
aj'prcciation of British energy and onteiin-ise was admiring
and sinco-c, and as warmly expressed as could be expected
under the circumstances.

"You've got a river, at any rate, that al)out comes \\\) to
one's ideas of what a river ought to be — broad and deep and
full," he said to Arthur one dav. " It Icind of satislies one
to stand and look at it, so gi'and and powerful, and still al-
ways rolling on to the sea."

" Yes, it is like your 7-'"'ather of Waters," said ^\i'thur, a little
surprised at his tone and manner.

"One wouldn't be apt to thuik of mills and engines and
such things at the first glimpse of that. I didn't see it the
day when I crossed it, for the mist and rain. To-day, as wo
stood looking down upon it, I C()ul(hi't but think how it had
been rolhng on and on there, ever since creation, I suppose,
or ever since the time of Adam and Eve — if the date ain't the
same as some folks seem to think."

" I always think how wonderful it nmst have scorned to
JaccpK^s C'artier and his men, as tliey sailed on and on, with
the never ending ft)re.st on either shore," said Koso. "No
wonder tluy thought it would never end, till it bore them to
the China seas."

"A wonderful highwMy of nations' it i.s, thou;:^1i it disap-
pointed them in that," said Arthur. "The sa<l jiity is, that
it is n(it available for commerce fo/ more than two-tliinls of
the year."

r.l

WW Wi ll I

352

.lANJOTH LOVr: AN» SKIJVICE.

" If cwv iho l)ii(l;j^(^ tliry tiilk about should bo built, it will
ilo soiiit'diini;" iowMnlw miikiiiji^ this a pliicc of iiiiporhuico
iu this pjirt of iho worhl, ihouf^h the long winter is ajj^aiiist,
too."

"Oh! the bridjjfo will bo built, I suppose, and the bcnciit
will not bo eonlined to us. The Western trade will bebene-
lited as well. AVliat do you ihiuk of your IMassachusetts
inc^u, <^('tii)i;j; their eotton round this way? This eonununi-
caliou with tlu^ more northern eotton gi'o\vin<jf States is moro
direct by this than any other way."

*' Well, I ain't prepared to say nuieli about it. Sonio folks
wouldn't think nnidi of that. But I suppose you are bound
to go ahead, anyhow."

But to the experi(>nced eye of the fanner, nothing gave so
much pleasure as the cultivated country lying around the
city, and beyond the mountain, as far as the cyo could
reach. Of the mountain itself, ho was a httlo contemptuous
iu its character of mountain.

"A numntain with smooth tields, and even orchards, reach-
ed iilmost to tho top of it! AVhy, om* sheep pasture at
I\l(^rleville, is a deal iuore lilce a momitain than that. It is
only a hill, and moderate at that. You nuist liiivo boon
dreadful hard up for mountains, to call that one. You 'vo
forgotten all about IMerloville, Ilosie, to bo content with that
for a mountain."

"NMiilcx ho admu'ed tho farms, ho did not hesitate to com-
ment severely on the want of enterprise shown by tho farmers,
who seemed to bo content " to putter along" as their fathers
liad done, with little desire to avail themselves of tho many
inventions and discoveries which modern science and art had
placed at the disposal of the farmer. In Morleville, cvoiy
man wlio owned ten, or even tivo acres of level land, iiad
an interest in sowing and mowing machmos, to say nothing
of other improvements, that could bo made available on hill
or meadow. If tho strength and patience so fi'ecly expended
among the stony New England liills, could but bo aiiplied to
the fertile valley of tlio St. Lawrence, what a garden it might

JANETS LOVE AND HEmiCE.

.1 - .>

bccoiiu) ! And tlu! Yfiiilcco firmer f,Tow a little coiitcnipl ii. .uh
of \hv. (•<)ii(ciit"(l iicijuitscciico of Ciliiii(liiiiis to tlic order uf
uffiirs e.stiil)lis]i(!(l by their fitliors.

One id'unioou hv, uiul Will, went t.)^r(.t,li( r to tlu; to[) of
the liiountaiii towurd the W(!stern eiu'. 'J'hey hud a fair day
for a fair f-i^ht, and when Mv. Snow looked down on the
scene, bounded by tlie blue hills bc^yond both rivers, all other
thoughts f^ave ])la(;o to foelinf]fs of wondeiin^ admiration.
Above was a slc}', whose t(>nder b!tie was made nioro lovely
by the snowy el(juds that saile<l now nnd then Tnaje^!tically
across it, to break into tlakes of silver near tlu; far horizon.

Beneath lay the valley, clothed in the nmuberless shades of
venluro with which June loves to deck the earth in this
iiortho'ii climate. There were no waste plac^es, no wilder-
ness, no arid stretch(!S of sand or stone. Far as the eyo
could rciaeh, cxt(,'nd(!d llelds, and j^roves, and ^ard(!iis, scatter-
ed throH;';h with (tlnsters of cotta;^es, or solitai'y farm houses.

Up throuj^h the stilhujss of the sunnuer air, eanic steahn<^
the faint sound of a distant bell, seeming to de{;i)en the sih.nco
round them.

" I suppose, the land that Moses saw from l*is;^'ah, must
have been like this," said ^tr. Snow, as lie ff-.i./id.

"Yes, the Promised Land was a land of hills, and valleys,
and brooks of water," said Will., softly, never movinj,' his
eyes from the wonderful picture. Could they ever f^azo
cnou;^h ? Could they ever weary themselves of the si^dit i
The shadows grow long; tho cloudfi, that had made the
beauty of the sunnncr sky, followed each other toward tho
west, and rosj in pimiaeles of gold, and amber, and ame'thyst ;
and then they rose to go.

"I wouldn't have missed that now, for considerable," said
Mr. Snow, coming back witli an effort to tlu; n.-alization of
the fact that this was part of the sight-seeing that he had s(,t
himself. " No, I would n't have missed it f jr c )nsiderablo iiiore
th in that miserable team '11 cost,"a<ld(;dhe, as he canu; hi sight
of tho carriage, on whoso uncomfortable s(;at the drowsy
driver had boon slumljcriiig all the afternoon. Will, suiiled,

35J:

JANKt'.S LOVi: AND SEHVICK.

and lu.'ido no answer. Ho was not a vain lad, but it is just
possible that tli !rc passed tlin)n<f]i iiis uiiiid a doubt whether
the ( ujoyuieut of Jus IVieud had b<;eu as real, as hi<^h, or as
iuieuse, as Jiis had been all the afleriioon. To Will's imafj-
ination, the valley lay in the gloom of its primeval forests,
peopled by heroes of a race now passed away. He was one
of them. He foujj^ht in their battles, tiiiunphed in their
vietorics, jiantcd in the eagerness of (ho chase. In imagina-
tion, he saw the forest fall under the peaceful weapons of the
pale face ; then wandered westward to die the dreary death
of the last of a stricken race. Then his thoughts canio down
to the present, and on into the futiu'c, in a vagiie dream,
whi(4i was half a ju-aj-er, for the hastening of the time when
the lovely valley should smile in moral and spiritual Ijoauty
too. And coming back fo actual life with an (^llbrt — a sense
of pain, he said to himself, that the enjoyment of his friend
had hcc.n not so high and pure as his.

But "Will, was mistaken. In the thoughts of his friend,
that sununer afternoon, patent machines, remunerative labor,
plans of supply and demand, of lu'olit and loss, found no
place. He passed the pleasant hour on that green hill-side,
seeing in that iovely vallty, stretched out before* them, a very
Land of Ccuhdi. Looking over the blue line of the Ottawa,
as over the river of Death, into a huid visible and clear to
the eye of faith, ho saw sights, and heai'd sounds, and enjoy-
ed comnumion, which, as yet, lay far in the future, as to the
experience of the lad by his side ; and coming back to actual
life, gave no sign of the Divine Companionshij), save that which
afterward was to Ijc seen in a life growing liker every day to
tlic Divine Exemplar.

Will, thought, as they went homo together, that a now
light beamed, now and then, over the keen but kindly face,
mid that the grave eyes of his friend had the look of one
who saw something beyond the beauty of the pleasant fields,
growing dim now in the gathering darkness ; and the lad's
heart grew full and tender as it dawned upon him, how this
was a token of the sliining of God's face ui3on his servant,

.lANKTb r-OVK AND 8ERVICK.

355

and he longed for a f^limpso of that Avliich his fiiond's oycs
saw. A 'svord niiglif. iiavo won l'<»r liiiu u j^linip.s(! of the
happiness ; but AV'ill. was shy, and the word was not sj)okcii ;
and, all uncouscions of his lonj^an*.^, liis friend sat with the
smile on his lips, and the light in his eye, no tlionght fui-ther
from him than that any experience of his should l)e of value
to another. And so they fell quite into silence, till they
ncared the streets where the hghtcd lamps were burning dim
in the fadhig daylight.

That n'ght, in the course of his wanderings up and down,
Mr. Snow paused, as ho often did, before a portrait of the
minister. It was a portrait taken when the minister had
been a much younger man than INIr. Snow had ever known
him. It had belonged to a friend in Scotland, and had been
sent to Arthur, at his death, about a year ago. Thelikenc ss
had been strildng, and to Janet, the sight of it liad hcvn a
great pleasure and sur])rise. She was never weary of look-
ing at it, and even ]Mr. Snow, who had never known the
minister but as a grey-haired man, was strangely fas;-inated
by the beauty of the grave sinilo tliat ho remembered so
well on his face. Tliat night he stood leaning on the l)aek
of a chair, and gazing i>t it, wliile the conversation llowcdon
as usual around him. Li a iitih>, Hose came and stood
beside him.

" Do you think it is very like him ? " askcid she.

"Well," said i\Ir. Snow, meditatively, "it's like him and
it ain't like him. I lovo to look at it, anyhow."

" At first it puzzled me," said Kose. " It seemed like the
picture of some one I had scon in a di'eani ; and wlien I shut
my eyes, and tried to bring back my father's face as it used
to bo in Mcrleville, it would not come — the face of the dream
came Ijetweon."

"Well, there is something in that," said ^Ir. Snow, and ho
paused a moment, and shut his eyes, as if to call back tlio
fac{5 of his friend. " No, it won't do that for mo. It•^vould
take something I hain't thought of yet, to make me forget
his face."

• i

) I

356

JANET 8 LOVK AND BEHYICE.

" It does not trouble me now," said Rose. "I can shut
my eyes, and sec him, O ! so plainly, in the cbnrch, and at
home in the study, and out under the trees, and as he lay —
in his coffin — " She was smiling still, but the tears were
ready to gush over her eyes. Mr. Snow tm-nod, and laying
his hand on her bright head, said softly,

" Yes, dear, and so can I. If wo did n't know that it must
be right, we might wonder why he was taken from us. But
I shall never forget him — never. He did too much for me,
for that. He was the best fidend I ever had, by all odds — the
veiy best."

Rose smiled through her tears.

" He brought you IMi's. Snow," said she, softly.

" Yes, dear. That was much, but he did more than that.
It was thi'ough him tliat I made the acquaintance of a better
and dcai'cr friend than even s]ie is — and that is saving con-
siderable," added he, tm'ning liis eyes towai'd the tranquil
figiu'C knitting in the aim-chau'.

" Were you speaking ?" said Mrs. Snow, looking up at the
sound of his voice.

" Yes, I was speaking to Rosie, here. How do you sup-
pose we can ever persuade her to go back to Merleville with
us?"

" She is going with us, or she will soon follow us. "What
would Emily say, if she didna come ? "

" Yes, I know. But I meant, to stay for good and all.

Graeme, won't you give us this little gu'l ? "

Graeme smiled.

" Yes. On one condition — if you will take me too."

]\Ir. Snow shook his head.

" I am afraid that would biing us no nearer the end. We
should have other conditions to add to that one."

" Yes," said Arthur, laughing. " You would have to take
Fanny and me, as well, in that case. I don't object to your
havmg one of them at a time, now and then, but both of
them — that would never do."

" But it must be both or neither," said Graeme, eagerly,

JAN1:T 8 LOVK AND 6ERVICK.

357

" I couldna trust liosio away from inc. I liavcna these Kixteon
years — her whole hi'e, have I, Janet V If you want llusie, you
must have nie, too."

She spoke hyhtly, but eanicstly ; she meant what she said.
Indeed, so earnest was she, that she quite Hushed up, and tho
tears were not far away. The others saw it, and were silent,
but Fanny who Avas not quick at seeing things, said,

" But what could wo do without you both ? That would
not be fair — "

" Oh ! vou would have Arthur, and Arthur would have vou.
At any rate, llosic is mine, and I am not going to give her to
any one who won't have mo, too. 8ho is aU I shall have left
when Will, goes away."

" Graeme would not trust Rosio with Arthur and me," said
Fanny, a little pettishly. "There arc so many tilings that
Graeme don't approve of. She thinks we would spoil Rose."

Janet's hand touched hers, whetluu- by accident or design
Graeme did not know, but it had the effect of checking tho
response that rose to her lips, and she only said, laughingly,

" Mrs. Snow thinks that you and Ai'thui* are spoiling us
both, Fanny."

Janet smiled fondly and gravely at the sisters, as she said,
stroking Graeme's bowed head,

" I dare say you are no' past spoiling, either of you, but I
have seen worse baii*ns."

After this, ]Mr. Snow and Will, began the suiwey of Canada
in earnest. First they went to Quebec, where they lingered
several days. Then they went farther down the river, and up
the Sagiienay, into the very heart of the wilderness. This
part of the trip Will, enjoyed more than his fi-icnd, but ]Mr.
Snow showed no sign of impatience, and prolonged their stay
for his sake. Then they went up the country, visiting tho
chief towns and places of interest. They did not ctmfine
themselves, however, to the usual route of travtjlers, but
wont here and there iiiw:igi)iis and stiiges, through a faiiulng
country, in which, though ]Mr. Snow saw much to critici-;e, he
saw more to admire. Tliey shared the hospitality of many u

^*1

358

JANKT 8 I.OVE AND SERVICE.

Hit'?

quiet farniliousc, hh freely as it was oflercd, and enjoyed many
a pleasant conversation with the farmers and iheii' families,
seated on doors-steps, or l)y the kitchen tiro.

Tliough the hospitality of <ho country people was, as a
f^eneral thinjj, fully and fi'eely offered, it was sometinics, it
must be confessed, not without a certain reserve. That a
" live Yankee," cute, and able-bodied^ should be going about
in these out-of-the-way i")ai*ts, for the sole purpose of satisfying
himself as to the features, resources, and inhabitants of the
country, was a circumstance so rare, so unheard of, indeed,
in these parts, that the slirewd country people did not Uke
to commit themselves at the first glance. Will.'s frank, hand-
some face, and simple, kindly manners, won hun speedily
enough the confidcuco of all, and ]\Ii'. Snow's kintUy advances
were seldom long v,ithstood. But there sometimes lingered
an mieasy feeling, not to say suspicion, that when he had suc-
ceeded in winning their confidence, he would tuni round and
make some startling demand on their faith or theu* purses m
i)chalf of some patent medicine or new invention — pcrluips
one of those wonderful labor-saving machines, of v.'hich ho
had so much to say. As for himself, if he ever observed their
rcsen'e or its cause, he never rescnited it, or commented upon
it, but entered at oneo into tlie discussion of all possible sub-
jects with the zest of a man determined to make the most of
the pleasant cu'cumstances in which he found himself. If ho
did not always agi'ce with the opinions expressed, or approve
of the modes of faninng pui'sued, he at least found that the
sturdy farmers of Glengany and the country beyond had
Viiore to say for their opinions and practice than " so had
their fathers said and done before them," and their discus-
sions ended, quite as frequently as otherwise, in the American
frankly coirfessing himself convinced that aU the agricultm*al
wisdom on the continent did not lie on the south side of the
Mne forty-live.

^yill. Avas greatly anuisod and interested by all this. He
was, to a certain extent, able to look at the ideas, opinions,
and prejudices of each fi*om the other's point of view, and so

ja\i:t .s Lovi; and skuvick.

350

to enjoy with double zest the cliHcussion of f^ulijocts ^vliich
could not fail to present Huch tlissimilar aspects to minds no
dilTerently cunstitutod, and developed uikKu* circuinstaucos
and induencos so diHrrcnt. This power helped him to uiuko
the opinions of (.'aeh more cleai" to the other, presentin,^' to
both juster notions of each (other's theory and practice thuu
their own explanations could have done. By this means, tot),
he won for himself a reputation for wisdom, about matti rs
and things in general, whieh suqaisodno one sonmch as him-
self. They would have'hkedto linger far longer, over this
part of their trip, than they had time to do, for the days were
hastening.

Before retuvning homo, they visited Niagara, that wondeiiul
work of God, too great and grand, as Mr. Snow^ told Rosie,
to be the pride of one nation exclusively, and so it had been
placed on the borders of the two greatest nations in the
world. This part of the trio was f(jr A\ill.'s sake. ]\lr. Snt)W
had visited them on his way West many years ago. Indeed,
there were other parts of the trip made for AVill.'s benefit,
but those were not the parts which Mr. Snow enjoyed least,
as ho said to his wife afterwards.

" It paid well. I had my o\\ii share of the pleasiu'c, and
Will.'s, too. If ever a lad enjoyed a hoHday ho enjoyed his.
It was worth going, just to see his pleasure."

When the time alk^ttcd to theu* visit was di'awing to a dose,
it was proposed that a ftnv days should be passed in that most
beautiful part of Canada, known as the Eastern Townships.
Arthur went with them there. It was but a glimpse they
could give it. Passing in through Missisquoi County to the
head of the lovely lake Mempliremagog, they spent a few days
on it, and along its shores. Their retmri was by a circuitous
course across the country tlii'<nigh the Comity of Stanst'-ad, in
the midst of beautiful scenen', and what Mr. Snow de.'lared to
be " as tine a farming countrvas anvbodv need wisli to see."

This "scehig Canada" v/as a more s('rlous mati;'r than lie
hadatlirst suppos:Hl, Mv. Snow acknov.lc Iged to the delighted
Rose. It could not be done juotico to in a low days, ho uaid;

30.0

JANKT's I-OVi: AND SERVICE.

HI'

but lie Nvould try and reconcile lii'insolf to tlio linstincss of his
trip, by tukiii;f it for granted that the parts ho had not scon
^vere pretty nnicli like those ho had gone through, and a very
line country it was.

" Canada will bo heard from yet, I expect," said he, one
night when they liad returned home. "By the time that you
get sonic things done that you moan to now, you '11 bo ready
to go ahead. I don't soo but you have as good a chance as
ever we had — better, even. You have got the same elements
of prosperity and success. You hav(f got the Bible and a frco
press, and a fair proportion of good soil, and any amount of
water-power. Then for inhal )itants, you've got the Scotchman,
cautious and far-seeing ; the Irishman, a little hot and heady,
perhaps, but earnest ; you've got the Englishman, who '11
never fail of liis aim for want of self-confidence, anyhow;
you've got Frenchmen, Germans, and a sprinkling of the
dark element out west ; and you've got what wo didn't have
to begin with, you've got the Yankee clement, and that is
considerable more than you seem to think it is, Rosie."

Rose laughed and shook her head. She was aot going to
allow herself to bo di*awn into a discussion of nationalities
that night.

" Yes," contumed he, " the real live Yankee is about as
complete a man as j'ou '11 generally meet anywhere. He has
the caution of Hhc Scot, to temper the fire of the Iiishmau,
and he has about as good an opinion of himself as the Enghsh-
man has. He '11 keep things going among you. He '11 biing
you up to the times, and then ho won't be likely to let you
fall back again. Yes; if ever Canada is heai'd fi'om, the
Yankee will have something to do with it, and no mistake."

CHAPTER XXXII.

IN the moan time very quiet and pleasant clays were i)iis9-
infj over those who were at home. Fanny jingled her
ki'ys, and triumphed a little at the continued success of affairs
in Mrs. Tilman's department. Graeme took no notice o^her
ti'iumph, but worked away at odds and ends, remcmbenug
things forgotten, smoothing difficulties, remonng obstacles,
and maldng, more than she or any one knew, the happiness
of them all. JXosq sung and danced about the house as iLsu;d,
and devoted some of her superfluous energy to the embellish-
ment of a cobweb fabiic, which was, under her skillful fingers,
destined to assume, by and l)y, the form of a wedding pockefc-
handkerchief for Emily. And through all, Mrs. Snow was
calmly and silently pursuing the object of her visit to Canad.r.
Tlu'ough the pleasant hoiu's of work and leisure, in all their
talk of old times, and of the present time, in all moods, giMvo
and gay, she had but one thought, one desire, to assure h r-
self by some unfailing token that her bairns were as good
and hai)py as they ought to be.

The years that had passed since the bairns had been pai Led
fi'om her had made Janet older than they ought to have
done, Graeme thought. It was because she was not so strong
as she used to be, slie said herself ; but it was more than
sickness, and more than the passing years that had changed
her. The ch'oadful sliock and disappointment of her mother's
deati), followed so soon by the loss of Marian and the minis-
ter, had been too much for Janet. It might not have been,
her strong patient nature miglit have withstood it, if the
breaking up of the l)eloved famil}' circle, the utter vanishing
of her baiiiis fi'oui her sight, had not loUowed so close upon
16 ' (361)

•]

302

JA^fl:T^; l«>vk avd siiuvici:.

• 'i|

it. For wcokH hIic luul been iillcilv iirosti.itc. Flio IcIUts,
which told the hairiis, in their CMiiiuhiUi h<)in(>, lli:it their dear
friend was ill, and "weiirvinj,' " for Iheni, t;)ld iliem little of
the tcn-iblo sulVerinj* of that time. The niiseiy ihat had
darkened her tirHt winier in jMerleville eanio u[)(»n her a^'ain
with two-fold pow( r. AVorse than the honic-siekness of that
sad time, v.aa the never ceaHin*^' pain, inad(! U}> of .sorrow for
the dead, and inappeaHal)l(> lonfj^iiifjf for the presence of the
livin«if. That she shonld have forKaken her darlini,% to cast
in her lot with others — that lictween hor and them should lie
miles and miles of mountain and forest, and barriers, hardcT
to Ik' passed than these, it sickened her heart to know. Sho
knew it n(>vcr could be olherwisonow ; from th(> sentence she
had passed upon herself she knew there could b(» no app(>id.
She knew that tudess some f^reat soitow should fall upon
thoni, they could n(»ver have one home a.^ain ; and iliat peace
and hai>pincs.s could ever come to her, beini:;' sc^pai'ated from
Ihem, she neilher believed nor desired. (Jh! the misery of
that time ! The fields and hill-;, and pleasant places slio had
learned to kne, nhroudcd themselvi's in f^loom. The very
light f^'ew hateful to her. Her prayer, as she lay still, while
the bitter waters rolled over licr, was l(>ss the prayer of faith,
than of despair.

And, tlu-()U'.>h all the misery of that time, her husband
waited and watched her wnth a tender patience, bcautifid to
see ; never by woixl or deed, ^ivin^ token of aui^ht but
sympathy and lovinp^ pity for the poor, sick, struf^'ij^linijf heart.
Often and often, diu'inj]^ thai dreary time, did sho wake to
hear, in the stillness of the ni^ht, or of the early morninp", his
whispered ju'ayer of stron;:>' entr(vity risin^x to Heaven, that
the void niijj^ht bo fille;l, that in (lod's .q-ood time and way,
peace, and iK^aling, and content, niif2;ht come l)ack to the sick
and son'owfe.l heart.

And tliis canie after lon.q- waitin;:^". Slowly the bitter waters
rolled away, never to ntnrii. Faith, lliat had set^nied dead,
looked up once mor<\ Tlie sick heart thrilled beneath the
touch C'f the Ilciilor. Aqain the lij;] it i.'rev.' ]>leu[iant to her eyi;::;.

JANKT S LOVE AND SIRVICE.

363

and Janet camo buck toiler old household ways, seeing in tho
life before herCiod-^nveu work, tlmt might not be left undone.
But she was never (juite tii(; siuiie. There was never quite
the old sharp ring in her kindly voice. She was not less
eheerfiil, perhaps, in time, Init her cheerfulness was of a far
((uleter kind, and her chidings were rare, and of the mildest,
now. Indeed, she had non(! to (tliide but tho motherless
Emily, who mx'ded little chiding, and much love. And much
love did Janet give iier, vho had been dear to all the bairns,
and the especial friend of ^Marian, now in Heaven. And so
God's peace f(>ll on the icj'.con'H quiet liousehold, and tho
gloom passed away from Uh! lields and hills of INIcrlevillo,
and its i)leasant nooks and coriK^rs smiled once nion; with a
look of home to Janet, as she grew content in the knowledge
that her durhngs were well and hap})}', though she might
never niidce them her daily nivc again. ]3ut she never forgot
them, ller renien»branceof thom never grew less losing, and
tender, ind true. And so, as tho years passed, the old long-
ing came back, and, day by day, grow stronger in h(;r heart
tho wish to know assuredly that the children of her love wero
as good and hajjpy as they ought to ' c.

Had her love been less deep and ycwrning she might have
been more easily content with the tolcens of an innocent and
happy life visible in their home. If happiness had been,
in her estimation, but the enjoyment of genial days and
restfu^ rights, with no cares to hurrass, and onl} pleasant
duticM to perform ; if the iiiterchango of kindly oflices, the
Viitie r.cts of self-denial, the giving up of trilles, the taking
clieerfiiUy of tho little disappointments, which ev(>n tlieir
pleasant life w:is subject to — if thesohad l)een toh<'i- snllicient
tests of goodness, she might have been satisfied with all she saw.

But she was not satislieil, for slu; knew that there are few
h(>arts so sliallow as to !"• tilled full \vith W that hiieh a life
of case could giv(\ ;>li.! knew that the; gixidness, that might
seem to suirice thr )ugh these tramiuil and pleasant days,
could be no detV'iice against the strong temptationsllmt might
beset them uniid the cares of life. ''lor," said she to her-

304

JANKT 8 LoVK AM) SKUVICE.

I' i

[; 1 1 ,

'I;

I' .'I

Kolf, " tlin burn runs smoothly o'l ovor the pcblilois in its bed
Avitljont 11 bi*(!:ik (H* (mI'.Iv, fill tlio pcbblc^s <'1).in;i;(> to i-ocksand
stones, Mil' I tlioii it briuvls, and iiin-nnirs, and djislu's itself
to foam jimon;^ Ihcjn — and to lidp." Slu; was content with
no Nuch evidence of ha])i>iu"ss or j^oodness as lay on the sur-
face of their pleasant life, so she waited and watched, sceinj?
without seeininfjf to see, many thinfj^s that less lovin*^ <\veH
niij^ht have overlcok(>d. Sh<' saw 1h(> un<iuiet lij^ht that
j^leamed at thnos in (IracMne's eyes, and tlu^ shiidow of the
cloud that now and then rested on her brow, even in their
most mirthf'il moments. Sh(> smiled, as they all did, at tho
lively s;d!ies, and i>retty willl'iilncss of Hose, but she knew
fnll well, that that wliich mad(! mirtli in the lovinj,' home-
circle, iiri;^ht mak(* sorrow foi* th(» household darlinj:*-, when
tlu! charm of lovo was no hmu^'T round her. And so she
watched them all, se?in,i;in tritlos, in chance words and uncon-
scious d(>(nlH, BiL^nisand tokcMisfo:- f^ood or for evil, that would
never have revealed thenis(>lvcs to one who loved them less.

For Will, she had no fear. He >vas his father's own son,
with his father's work awaitinijf him. All would be well with
Will. And for Arthur, too, the kind and thou^^btl'ul eld«'r
brotlu>r — the father avid brother of tlu> littk^ houseliold, both
in one, her hopes were stronj.:cer than her doubts or Tears. It
would have ^iven her a sore heart, indeed, to believe him far
from tho way in which his father walked.

"Ho has a leavc^u of W(M'!dliness in him, I'll no' deny,"
said she to lier husband one ni;dd, when they were alone in
the privacy of their own apartment. " And the > is more d(!-
sin> for wealth in his hear!, end for the honor duit comes
from man, than h(> himself kens. He Ml maybe {.(et tlieni, and
maybe no'. Jint if he <»'i'ts them, tliey '11 no' s itisty him, and
if h(^ g.'ts them ni)t, \\o '11 <^'et somethin;^ b(>tter. I have small
fear for the la<l. lie minds his fallier's ways and wailc too
Av ell to be lon^r (-onlcnt with his own halliii'ij^ }iaee. It's a
fine life just now, with folk lookuipf up to him, andputtin,i»
tiiist in him, but he'll weary of il. There is nothing in it to
fill, for long, the heart of his father's s.)n."

11*3

•TAN'KT S LOVK AND 8KUVICE.

305

And in hor (jiiict, wjiitiiiff and watcliin;^, Jjinct t,TC\v assured
for tlicni all at last. Not that th«_v wvn: very wise or j^'ood,
but her faith tliat they woro lvO]>t of (»od <^Yii\\ stron^N-r ovcuy
day ; and to Im; ever in (Jod's k<'('|)iii^, meant to this hunil)l(%
truKifiil, Chi'istian wojiiaii, to have all that cvf ii her y(virnin^'
lovo could ci'ave for hiT du'liii'^'s. It left h(!r nothing' to fear
for I hem, nothing to wisli in their behalf ; so slu; came to be
at p(!a(.'eal)out them all ; and ^'ently checked the willful words
and ways of llosc and waited patiently till (Jraeme, of her
own accord, sliould show her the cloud in the shadow of
which she sometimes sat.

As to Fanny, the n<'w claimant for luu* love and inter-
est, sh(! was far from IxMUjjf overlooked all this time, and tho
pretty litth; cr(>ature ju-ovcd a far ^n-eater mystery to tho
.shrewd, riuht-jiKlj^'in^ fri<Mid of the family than seemed at all
reasonable. There wen; times when, had she seen herel.se-
wlu're, slu! would not have hesitated to proiiomici! her fiivo-
lous, vain, overbeariuLT. I'A'cn n)w, seeiu'if her loved and
eared for, in the midst of the bainis, there were moments
when she found herself sayiuj^' it in her heart. A duller
sense, and weak(M" penetration could not have failed to say
tho sam(\ But I'^annv was Arthur's wife, and Artlau* was
neither frivolous, nor vain, n<»r < »verbearnij»', but on tho con-
traiy, wise, and stron<»', and ^'entli', ))osse.ssin;^ all tlu; virtues
that ever had made his fatlun" a mod(?l in Janet's ai juirin^''
eyes, and it si'ciued a bold thin^', nideed, to tliink lij^fhtly of
his wife. So she mused, and por.d(n'ed, and watched, and
put Famiy's beautiful face and winning' mamier-i, and ])retty,
allectionate ways, a;:[ainst her very ( vident defects, and said
to herself, thouj^'h Art!un''s wife was not like ,\rthur's m-ithei-,
nor even like his sisters, yet there were varieties of excel-
lence", and surely tlu' vdun;/ .'nan \\;is belter able to be trusted
in tlie choice of a lire-!on,%' IVii iid than :in old woman like jur
could !)(> ; an<l still she waite«l and i)ondered, and, as usual,
the results of her mu^^in.^s wi'e ^aven to her attentive hus-
band, and this time with a litth; impatient si;^!!.

" I ncodna wonder at it. Lovo is bliiid, they say, and

■■*mmrrmwi''

36G

.TANKI 8 L')VE AND KEUVICE.

If!

goes where it is sent, fiiu'l it is sent far more rarely to ^v isdom
and worth, and hniul)l(j gooilncss, ihau to qiiaUtics that arc
far less (Icserviiif^ of the happiness it l)rinj>s ; and Mr, Ar-
thur is no' above niakinjjf a mistake. Thouf^h how he shonld
— mindinj,' liis mother as he does — amazes me. But he 's
well pl(.'as(^(l, tliere can be i.o doubt of that, as yet, and Jliss
Clraenu; is no' ill-pl<Mis<;d, and love wouhbia blind her. Still
I canna but wonder aftev all is said."

And she still wondered. Th(>re were in her vocabulary no
gentler names f(jr .he pretty Fanny's defects, than just
frivolity and vanity, iiid even after a glimpse or two of her
stepmother, Janet's candid straightforward nature could
hardly make for tho.w defects all iho allowance that was to
be n Hide. She conld not realize how impossible it was, that
a fashionable education, under such a teacher as ^Irs. (Jrove,
should have made her daughter otlier than she was, and so,
not realizuig that her worst faults were those of education,
which time, and experience, and the circumstances of her
life nuist correct, she had, at times, little hope of Fanny's fu-
ture worth or wisdom.

That is, she would have had little hope but for one thing —
Graeme had faith in Fanny, that was clear. Love might
blind ^Vi'thur's eyes to her faults, or enlighten them to see
vii'tues invisible to other eyes, but it would not do that for
Graeme ; and (Jraeme was tolci'ant of Fanny, even at times
when her httle airs and exactions made her not quite agree-
able to her husband. She was patient and forbearing to-
wards her faults, and smiled at the little housekeeping au*s
and assumptions, which Hose openly, and even in Arthiu"'s
presence, never failed to resent. Indeed, Graeme refused to
see Fanny's faults, or she rc'fused to acknowledge that she
saw them, and treated her always witli the res})ect due to her
brother's wife, and the mistress of the house, as well as with
the love and forl)earance due to a younger sister.

And that Fanny, with all her faults and follies, k)ved and
trusted Ciraeme was verv evident. Tliere was contidence be-
twcen them, to a cei'taiii extent at any rate, and seeing theso

.lAXKl S L()\ K ANU SKUVICE.

3G7

tliinjTs, Jiinct tt)ok courage to hope Ihat there was mt)ro in
the " bonny vain creature " than it Avas given her to see, and
to hope alsi) that Arthur might not one day laid hinisielf dis-
appointed in liis wife. Hir donhts and ho2)es on the matter
were all silent, or shared (Uily with the worthy deacon, in the
solitude of tlu'ir chanibcir. She was slow to connnit herself
to (jraeme, and (Jraeme was in no haste to ask her friend's
opinioix of her brother's wife.

They had plenty of other subjects to discuss. All their
jNIerleville hfe was gone over and over during these quiet sum-
mer da vs.

The talk was not always ga}' ; sometimes it was gi'avo
cuou{(h, even sad, but it was hapi)y, too, in a way ; at any
rate <hev never gi'ew wearv of it. And ^Nlrs. Snow had
much t(j tell them about the ju'esent state of their old home ;
how the old people wei'e ])assing away, and the young peojjle
were growing up ; how well the minister was remembered
there still, and how glad all would be to see the minister's
bairns among them again ; and then Sandy and Emily, and
the ap}>roacliing wedding made an endless subject of talk.
Rose and Fanny never wearied of that, and Mrs. Snow was as
pleased to tell, as they were to hear.

And when Ivosenind Fanny were away, as they often were,
and (Jraeme was left alone with her friend, there were
graver things discussed between them. Graeme told her
more of then- family life, and of their th'st expeiiences than
she had ever heard before. She t(»ld her of her illness, and
homesickness, and of the many misgivings she had had as
to whether it had been wise for (hem all to come to bur-
den Art^nu". She told her of Harry, and licr old terrors on
his account, and how all these hud given place to hope, that
was aim -st certainty now, t^hat she need never ff;ir for liim
for thes;imo cause more. They rejoiced together over liilila
antl Xornian, and recalled to one another their old ]iride in
tlu' lad uhiui h(! had suved the little (nriaan girl from the
terrible fate that ha 1 overtaken her family, an<l sniiloil at ttte
misgivings they had had when he refused to let her go with

308

JANETS LOVK AND SERVICK.

if'

m4.

tho friends who would have taken her. This was all to bo re-
joiced over now. No doubt tho care and pains wliich Norinan
had needed to bestow on his little ad.)j)tevl sis for, had done
nnich to con-ect the nativo thoughtlessness of his character,
and no doubt her love and care would henceforth make the
liappiness of his life. 80 they said to one another with
smiles, and not without givitefiil tears, in view of the over-
ruling love and earo visible in all they had to renieujber of
one and all.

And Will., who seemed to be Graeme's own more than
either of the other brothers, because she had cared for him,
and taught him, and watched over him, from the very first,
Bhe permitted herself to triumph a little over him, in private
with her friend, and Janet was r othing loth to hear and
triumph too, for in tho lad his father lived iv^ain to her, and
she was not slow to believe in his sister's loving pn)phecy as
to his future. Graeme could not ocmceul, indeed she did not
ti-y to conceal from her fiicnd, ht)w nnich she feared the part-
ing from him, and though Janet chid her for the teai"s that
fell so fast, it was with a gentle tenderness that only quicken-
ed their flow.

And now and then, in these long talks and frequent silence,
Janet fancied th;it she caught a glimpse of tlie cloud that had
cast a shadow over Graeme's Hfo, but she was never sure.
It was not to be spoken about, however, nothing could be
clearer than that.

" For a cloud that can be blown away by a friend's word,
will lift of itself without help in a while. And if it is no' a
cloud of that kind, the fewer words the better. And timcj
heals many a wound that the touch of tho kindest hand
would hurt sin'ely. And God is good." But all this was
said in Janet's socrtit prayer. Not even her husband shaved
her thoughts about (iraeme.

" AVliat a dismal day it is ! " said Fanny, as she stooi'i at
the window, hstening to tlu; wind and watching the fall of
the never-ceasing rain.

It was dismal. It nnist have been a dismal day evou in

janet'b love and skkvice.

3G9

the country, where the rain was fullin<^ on beautiful preen
tliinpf.s to their refreshment ; and in tlie city street, out upon
which Fanny looked, it was worse. Now and then a milk
earf, or a eairiaj^e with the curtains closely drawn, went past;
and now and then n foot passen^j^er, doiuf^' battle mth th(5
wind for the possession of his umbrella ; but these did not
bn^'hten tlu; scene any.

It was dismal within doors, too, Fanny thou<jht. It was
during the time of Mr. Snow and Will's first trip, and Ar-
thur had gone away on business, and was not expected homo
for a day or two, at least. A household of women is not
neccessarily a dismal affair, even on a rainy day, but a house-
hold suddenly deprived of the male element, is apt to bt^como
so in those circumstances, unless some domestic business
supposed to be most successfully accomplished at such a
time is being carried on ; and no wonder that Fanny wan-
dered fi'om room to roon), in an uncomfortable state of
mind.

Graeme and Rose were not uncomfortable. Rose had a
way of })utting aside difficult music to be practised on rainy
days, and she was ajit to become soengi'ossed in her pleasant
occupation, as to take little heed of what was going on about
her, and all Fanny's exclamations of discontent were lost on
her. Graeme was writing letters in the back parlor, and
Mrs. Snow wan supposed to bo taking her after-dinner's rest,
up stairs, but she came into the room in time to hear Fanny
exclaim petulantly,

" And we were very foolish to have an early dinner. That
would have been somethhig to look forward to. And no one
can possibly call. Even INIr. (Jreen would be better thdn
nobody — or even Charlie Millar.'

" These gentlemen would bo highly llattered if they heard
you," said Rose, laughiiig, as she rose to ili'aw forward tho
arm-chair to ]\rrs. Snow.

" Arc you not tired playing, Rose," said Fanny, fretfully.

"By no moans. I hope my playing does not disturb you.

I think this march is charming.
10*

Come and try it. "

370

JANET a LOVK AND SERVICE.

iin

"No, I thank you. If the music docs not disturb IMrs.
Snow, T don't mind it."

" I Ukc it," said Mrs. Snow. " The music is cheerful this
dull day. Though I would like a song better."

•' By and l)y you shall have a song. I would just lilie to
go over this two or throe times more."

" Two or three times ! Two or three hundi'cd times, you
moan," said Fanny. " There 's no end to Rose's inlaying when
she begins."

Then she wandered into the back parlor again.

"Are you going to ^^Titc all day, (Jraeme?"

" Not all day. Has INIrs. Snow come do^vn ? " asked she,
coming fonvard. *' I have been neglecting Harr}' lately, and
I have so much to tell him, but 111 soon be done now."

" My dear,' ' said Mrs. Snow, " dinna heed mo ; I have my
knitting, and I enjoy the music."

" Oh ! dear ! I wish it did 'nt rain," said Fanny.

" My dear, the earth was needing it," said IMrs. Snow, by
•way of saying sometliing, " and it will be beautiful when the
rain is over."

" I behove Graeme likes a rainy day," said Fanny. *' It is
very stupid, I think."

"Yes, I sometimes like a rainy day. It brings a little
leisure, which is agreeable."

Fanny slu*nggcd her shouldoi's.

" It u rather dismal to-day, however," said Graeme. " You
look cold with that light dress on, Fanny, why don't you go
and change it ? "

" "What is the use ? I wish Arthur were coming home.
He might have come, I 'm siu-e."

" You may be sure he will not stay longer than he can
help," said Graeme, tm-ning to her letter again.

" And my dear, might you no' take a seam ? It would pass
the time, if it did nothing else," said jMrs. Snow.

But the suggestion was not noticed, and partly because she
did not wish to interfere, and partly because she had some

JANKT S LOVi: AND SKUVICK.

371

curiosity to sco liow tho littlo lady would get out of her
dipjomfort, Mrs. Hnow knitted on in Hilenco.

*' Make sonicthin;^' nice; for tou," suggested Rose, glanc'ng
over her .shoiildiu".

" Tiiat is not necessary »o?r," said Fanny, shortly.

"Oh! I only suggested it for your sake — toimss tho time,"
said Rose.

It lasted a good while longer. It lasted till Graeme,
catchuig j\L\s. Snow's look, became suddenly aware, that their
old friend was thinking her own thoughts about " Airs.
Arthiu*." She rose at once, and shutting her desk, and
going to the winilow .whovc Fanny was standing, said with a
shiver :

" It /s dismal, indeed. Fanny, look at that melancholy
cat. She wants to come in, but she is afraid to leave her jircs-
ent shelter. Poor wee pussy."

" Graeme, don't you wish Arthur wore coming home," said
Fanny, hanging about her as she had a fashion of doing now
and then.

" Yes, indeed. But wo must not tell liim so. It would
make him vain if he laiew how much wo missed him. Go
and change your th'ess, dear, and we '11 have a fire, and an
early tea, and a nice little gossip in tho firelight, and then
we won't miss him so much."

"Fire !" repeated Rose, looking disconsolately at the pret-
ty ornaments of the gi'ate with which she had taken so much
pains. "Who ever heard of a fire in a grate at this time of
the year ? "

But Rose was overruled. They had a firo and an early
tea, and then, sitting in the fii'elight, they had a gossip, too,
about many different things. Janet told them moro than
she had ever told them before, of how she had "wearied
for them" when they first left INIcrleville, and by and by Rose
said,

" But that was all over when Sandy came."

"It was over before that, for his coming was long delayed,

372

jankt's lovk and skrvick.

jis you '11 mind yoursolvcs. I was quite content before ilmt
time, but of course it was a great thiufj^ to me, the cominpf of
n\v Sandy."

" Oh ! how f(lad you must liavc been ! " said Rose. " I
wish I had been there to see. Tell us what you said to him,
and what ho said to you."

*' I dinna mind what I said to him, or if I said anything
at idl. And he just said, ' Wcel mother ! ' with his heartsomo
smile, and the shine of tears in his bonny blue e'en," said
Janet, with a laugh that might vciy easily have changed to
a sob ; " and oh ! bairns, if ever I carried a thankful heart to
a throne of grace, I did that night."

" And would you have, known hun ? " asked Rose, gently.

" Oh ! ay, would I. No' but what ho was much changed. I
wouldna have minded him, but I would have kenned him
anywhere."

Janet sat silent with a moved face for a little, and then sho
went on.

" I had had many a thought about his coming, and I grew
afraid as the time di'ew near. Either, I thought, he winna
like my husband, or they winna agree, or ho will have forgot-
ten mo altogether, and winna find it easy to call me his
mother, or he *11 disappoint me in some way, I thought. You
sec I had so set my heart on seeing him, that I was afraid of
myself, and it seemed to be more than I could hope that ho
should be to me all that I desired. But when he came, my
fears were set at rest, lie is an honest, (Jod fearing lad, my
Sandy, and I need say nae mair about hiui."

" And so clever, and handsome ! And what did Mr. Snow
say?" _

'* Oh ! his heart was cariied captive, from the very lli'st,
Avith Sandy's heavtsome, kindly ways. It made mo laugh to
myself, many a time, to see them together, and it made mo
gi'cct whiles, as well. All my fears were rebulccd, and it is
th(^ burden of my prayers from day to day, that I may havo
a thankful h(\art."

" And how did Sandy hke Merleville, and all the people ? "

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

?>73

*' O, lie liked them well, you may bo sure. It would hivo
been very nnj^'nitcful if he had not, they made ;«) much of
him — !>rr. and 'Mvh. (Jreeiileaf, ospeeially, and the Merles, and
plenty be.>ides. lie made himself very useful to Mr. (ireen-
leaf, in many ways, for ho is a elover lad, m}' Sandy. It's on
his business that ha 's West now. But ho '11 soon be homo

agani.

"And Emily! Tell us just what they said to each other
at first, and what they th(ju^ht of oaeh other."

" I canna do that, for I was na there to hear. Emily saw
my Sandy before I saw him myself, as you '11 mind I told
you before."

" And was it lovo at fu-st sight ? " asked Fanny.

" And did tho course of tiiio lovo for oneo nm smooth,"
said Rose. ]\[rs. Snow smiled at their eagerness.

*' As for tho lovo at first sight — it came very soon to my
Sandy. I am no' sm*c about Emily. As for its runiimg
smooth, thero was a woo while it was hindered. They had
theii* doubts and fears, as was natural, and their misimdor-
standings. But, Oh ! bairns, it was just wonderful to sit by
and look at them. I saw their happy troubles coming on
before they saw it themselves, I think. It was like a story
out of a book, to watch them ; or like one of the songs folk
used to sing when I Wiis young —the sweet old Scottish songs,
that are passing out of mind now, I fear. I never saw tho
two together in our garden, but I thought of tho song that
begins,

" Af; simnicr niclit when blobs o' dew,
(Jarred ilka tiling look bonu^- — "

Ah ! AVell. Ciod has been good to them, and to us all."
"And Mr. Su )\v v.-a-i w.^ll ploa-c 1, of course," said Faimy.
" Pleased is hardly tho v^orvl for it. He had just S(;t his
heart on it from the very lirsf, and I had, whiles, much ado
to keep hhn from seeming to sec things, and to keep him
from putting his hand to help them a wee, which never docs,
you ken. Folk must find out such things for themselves, and

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Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

374

JANET S LOVi: AND SEIiVICE.

vix

'■■1

the cannioist hand may hinder, rather than help, with the
very best will. O ay, he was well pleased."

" And it is so nice that they are to be so close beside yoa
I daresay we shall hardly know our old home, it will be so
much imj)rovetl."

" It is impioved, but no' beyond your knowledge of it. It
was aye a bonny place, you '11 mind. And it ?'.s improved,
doubtless, for her father thmks there is nothing too good for
Emily."

" And O bamis, we have a' reason to bo thankfuL If wo
tnist our affairs in God's hand, He '11 ' bring it to pass,' as he
has said. And if we are his, there is no fear but the very
best thing for us will happen in the end."

the

ou.
so

ed,
for

wo
lie

217

,11

CHAPTER XXXIII.

' ' ^XTHO is Mr. Grocn, anyhow ? "

y Y The question was addi-esscd by Mr. Snovr to the
company generally, is ho paused in liis leism-ely walk up and
down the gallerj', and stood leaning his elbow on the window,
looking in upon them. His manner might have suggested the
idea of some mystery in comiection with the name he had
mentioned, so slowly and gravely did his eyes travel from one
face to another turned toward him. As his qucs-tion had
been addressed to no one in particular, no one answered for a
minute.

*' Wlio is ]VIr. Green, that I hear tell so much about ? " he
repeated impressively, fixing AVill. with his eye.

" Mr. Green ? Oh ! he is an American merchant from the
West," said the hteral Will., not without a vague idea that
the answer, though tnie and comprehensive, would fail to con-
vey to the inquiiing mind of the deacon all the information
desired.

" He is a Green Mountain boy. He is the most pei-fect spec-
imen of a real live Yankee ever encountered in these parts,
— cool, sharp, far-seemg, "

Charlie Millar was the speaker, and he was brought up
rather suddenly in the midst of his descriptive eloquence by
a sudden merry twinkle in the eye of his principal listener;
and his confusion was increased by a touch from Kose's
little hand, intended to remind liim that real hve Yankees
were not to be indiscreetly meddled with in the present
company.

" Is that all you can say for your real live Y'ankeo, Charlie,
man ? " said Arthur, whose seat on the gallerv permitted

(375)

■'itfiTMTMaaggaaai

376

janict's love and sehvice.

& IHj

■ff

him to hear, but not to seo, all that was goiii;^ on in the
room. " Why tlou't you add, ho speculates, ho whittles, ho
ch(!ws tobacco, ho is six feet two iii his stockuijj^s, he knows the
market value of every article and object, animate and inani-
mate, on the face of the earth, and is a livhig illustration of
the truth of the provcrl), that the cents lacing cared for, no
apprehension need be entertained as to the safety of tho
dollars."

" And a hving contradiction of all the stale old sayings
about the vanity of ric-hes, and their inaljility to give even a
transitory content," said Charlie, with laughing defiance at
Rose.

" Quite true, CharHe," said Arthui- ; " if Mr. Green has ever
had any doubts about the almighty dollar being the 'ulti-
mate end,' he has nursed or combated his doubts in se-
cret. Nothing has transpired to indicate any such wavering
of faith."

" Yes, it is his only standard of worth in all things material
and moral," said Charlie. "When he enters a room, you can
see by his look that he is putting a price on all things in it
— the car^^et and cm'tains — the books and pretty things — even
the ladies — "

"Yes,"' continued Arthur ; "if he were to come in here just
now, it would be — Mrs. Snow worth so much — naming the
sum ; Miss Elhott so much more, because she has on a silk
gown ; Mrs. Elliott more still, because she is somehow or other
very spicy, mdeed, to-night ; he would appreciate details that
go beyond me. As for llosic, she would be the most valuable
of all, accordmg to his estimate, because of the exti'aordinaiy
shining thmgs on her head."

" The possibility of their being only imitations, might sug-
gest itself," interposed Charlie.

" Yes, to be sure. And imitation or not, they would indi-
cate all the same the yomig lady's love of finery, and suggest
to his acute mind the idea of danger to the purse of her fu-
ture possessor. No, Rosie would n't have a chance with him.

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

377

You needn't fro-um, Rosio, you haven't, Wliother it is the
shining things on your heutl, or the new utitt-h ami chain, or
the general weakness in the matter of bonnets that has been
developing in your character lately, I can't say, but nothi' g
can Ijc plainer, than the fact, that hitherto you have failed to
make the sniallost imi'ressionon him."

" A circumstance which cannot fail to give str(}ngth to tlio
general impression that he is made of cast iron," said Charlie.

" Arthur, I am shocked and astonished at you," said Rose,
as soon as she was permitted to speak. '• You have forgotten,
Charlie, how kindlv he cared for your brother when he was
sick, long ago. And Harry says that his harchiess and selfish-
ness is more in appearance, than real. He has a vei-y kind
heart."

"Oh ! if you come to his heart, ^Nliss Rose, I can't speak
for that. 1 have never had an opportunity of satisfying my-
self as to that particular. I didn't know ho had one, indeed,
and should dvnibt it no\N', if we had not Harry's authority
and yours."

" You see, Rosie, when it comes to the discussion of hearts,
Charlie gets beyond his depth. Ho has nothing to say."

" Especially tender hearts, " said Cliarhe ; " I have had a
little experience of a flinty article or two of that sort."

" Charhe, I won't have you two quarreling," said_ Graeme,
laughing. "Rose is right. There is just a grain or two of
trath in what they have been saying," she added, turning to
Mr. Snow. j\Ir. Green is a real live Yankee, with many valiia-
ble and excellent qualities. A little hard — perhai:)S, a little
worldly. But you should hoar him speak of his mother. You
would sympatliize with him then, Charlie. Ho told mo all
about his mother, one evening tluit I met him at Grove House,
I think. Ho told mo about the old homestead, and his
father's saw-mill, and the log scliool-housc ; and his manner of
speaking quite raisLcl him hi my opinion. ^\j'thur is wrong hi
sa>'Uig he cares for nothing but money."

" But, who is he ? " asked Mr. Snow, with the air of one much

. 4|

378

jaxet's love and service.

interested. His question wiis this time addi'cssetl to Fanny,
avIk) had seated herself on tlio window seat chjse hy her hus-
band, and she replied eaj^erly,

" Oh ! he is a rich merchant — ever so lieh. He is going to
give up business, and travel in Europe."

"For the improvement of his mind," said Arthur.

" I don't know what he goes f(jr, but he is very rich, and
mav do what he likes. Ho has built the handsomest house in
the State, Miss Smith tells me. Oh ! he is ever so rich, and
he is a bachelor."

" I want to know ? " said Mr. Snow, accepting Fanny's tri-
umphant climax, as she gave it, with great gravity.

" He is a great fiionc, of mine, and a great admirer of Miss
Elliott," said Mrs. Grove, with her lips intending that her face
should say nnicli more.

"Do teU?" said Mr. Snow.

" A singular and eccentric person you see he must be," said
Will.

" A paradoxical specimen of a live Yankee. Do n't fi'own,
Miss Rose. Mrs. Grove's statement proves my assertion," said
Charlie.

" If you would like to meet him, Mr. Snow, dine with us
on Friday " said Mrs. Grove. " I am quite sui'e you will like
and admii'e each other. I see many points of resemblance
between you. Well, then, I shall expect you all. Miss Elliott
you will not disappomt me, I lioi^e."

" But so large a paiiy ! IMi's. Grove, consider how many
there are of us," said Graeme, who knew as well as though
she were speaking aloud, that the lady was sajing that same
thing to herself, and that she was speculating as to the ne-
cessity of enlarging the table.

" Pray, don't mention it. We are to have no one else.
Quite a family party. I shall be quite disappointed if I don't
see you all. The garden is looking beautifully now."

" And one more would n't make a bit of difference. Miss
Rose, can't you speak a good word for me," whispered
Charlie.

JANETS LOVE AND SEKVICE.

870

" Thank yon," said Graeme, in answer to ]Mrs. Grove. " I
have been lonj^inj^ to show IMrs. Snow your garden I hope
the roses are not quite over."

"Oh, no!" said Arthur. "There are any num1)er left;
and Charhe, man, he snre and brin<^ your Ihite to waktMi the
cehoes of the yrovo. It will bo delightful by nioonliyht, won't
it, HosieV"

Mrs. Grove gave a httle start of surprise at the liberty
taken by Arthur. "So unHke him," she thought. Mr.
Millar's coming would make the enlargement of the table
absolutely necessary. Howevei-, she might ask one or two
other peoi)lc whom she ought to have asked before, " and
have it over," as she said. So she smiled sweetly, and said,

"Pray do, IMr. IMillar. Wo shall expect you with the
rest."

Charlie vould be delighted, and said so.

"But the flute," added he to Rose. "Well, for that agree-
able fiction youi* brother is responsible. And a family party
will be indeed charming."

Dining at Grove House was not to any of them the
pleasantest of afi'airs, on those occasions when it was Mrs.
Grove's intention to distinguish herself, and astonish other
people, by what she called a slate dinner. Graeme, who was
not apt to shu'k unpleasant duties, made no secret of her dis-
like to them, and cauglit at any excuse to absent herself with
an eagerness which Fanny declared to be anything but
polite. But, sitting at table in full dress, among duU people,
for an mdefinito length of time, for no good purj^ose that she
had been able to discover, was a sacrifice ■which neither
Graeme nor any of the others felt inclined to make often.

A dmner en famillc, however, with the dining room win-
dows open, and the prospect of a pleasant evenmg ui the
garden, was a very different matter. It was not merely en-
dui'ablo, it was dehghtful. So Rose arravcd herself in her
pretty pink muslin, and then went to superintend the toilette
of Mrs. Snow — that is, slio went to an-ango the folds of her
best black silk, and to insist on her wearing her j^rettiest

¥^'

i:i

380

JANET S LOVE AND SEKVICE.

cap — in a stiito of plcasurablo oxcitoment tliat was infoctioua,
and the wLolo party »ct off in line spirits. Graeme and
Il(.»sc cxcliaiig(,'d d(;n1)tl'id «^lan(;es as they passed the diuinj^-
room Avindows. There was an ominous disphiy of silver on
the sidelioard, and the cidargment of the table hod been on
an extensive scale.

" If she has spoiled Janet's evening in the garden, by in-
vituig a lot of stupids, it will bo too bad," whispered Eose.

It was not so bad as that, however. Of the guests whoso
visits were tt) be " put over," on this occasion, only Mr.
Proudfiite, a very })lctisanl:, harmless gentleman, and Fanny's
old admu-er, Captain Starr, came. As to making it a state
affau*, and sitting two or tlu'ce hours at table, such a thing
was not to bo thought of. Mr. Snow could cat his dinner
even in the most unfavorable circumstances, in a tenth part
of that time, and so couhl Mr. Green, for that matter ; so
within a reasonable period, the ladies found themselves, not
in the ch.'awing-room, but on the lawn, and the gentlemen
soon followed.

It was the perfection of a summer evening, with neither
dust nor insects to bo a drawback, with just wind enough to
make tremulous the shadows on the lawn, and to waft, from
the garden above the house, the odors of a thousand flowers.
The garden itself did not sui*pass, or even equal, in beauty
of arrangement, many of the gardens of the neighborhood ;
but it was very beautiful in the unaccustomed eyes of IVIr.
and Mrs. Snow, and it was with theii* eves that Graeme looked
at it to-night. They left the others on the lawn, the gentle-
men — some of them at least — smoking in the shade of the
great cedar, and Eose and Fanny making wreaths of the
roses the children wxn'e gathering for them. The garden
proper w as behind the house, and thither they bent their
st(?ps, Graeme inwardly congi*atulating herself that she and
Will, were to have the pomtiug out of its beauties to their
fiiends all to themselves. They did not need to be pointed
out to the keen, admiring eyes of Mr. Snow. Nothing
escaped him, as he walked slowly before them, looking over

jankt's love and skkvice.

381

his shoulder now and then to rcinark on sonicthinj^^ that par-
ticuhi^.'ly inlciTstcd hhn. ^frs. Snow's f^outlo exclamations
alone broke the silence for .sonio time. She hngered with an
interest, which to (Jraenie was quite pathetic, over flowers
faniihar iu her childliood, but strangers to her for many a
year.

"It minds mo of the Eljija Gardens," said she, after a
little. " Not that it is like thcjn, except for the fl(jw(>rs. Tho
Ebba Gardens were on a level, not in terraces like this. You
winna mind the Ebba Gardens, ]Miss (Jraeme."

They had reached by this time a smnmer house, which
commanded a view of the whole garden, and of a beaut ifid
stretch of country beyond, and here they sat down to wait
the coming of tho others, Avhoso voices they heard below.

" No," said Graeme, " I \\hh not at the EJjlxa often. But
I remember tho avenue, and the ghmpse of the lake that
comes so unexpectedly after the first turning from the gate.
I am not sure wheth'er I remember it, or whether it is only
fancy ; but it must have been very beautiful."

" It is only fancy to you, I doubt, for we turned many a
time after going in at the gate, before the lake came in
sight."

"Perhaps so. But I don't think it can all be fanc}-. I
am sure I mind the lake, with the swans sailing on it, and
the -wee green islets, and tho branches of the birch trees
drooping down into the water. Don't you mind V "

" Yes, I mind well. It was a bonny place," said Janet,
■with a sigh.

" But, what a tiny lake it must have been ! I remember
we could quite well see the flowers on the other side. It
could not have been half so large as Merle ville Pond."

" It was n't hardly worth while calling it a lake, was it ? "
said Mr. Snow.

"It did for want of a bigger, you know," said Graeme,
laughing. " It made up in beauty what it wanted in size."

" It was a bonny spot," said Mrs. Snow.

"And tho birds! VVhcnovcr I want to imagine bird music

■HHB

382

JANKT.S LOVK AND SKPtVICK.

in i)f'rf( (.'lion, I shut niv ryes, and tliink of tlio l)irchcs
dr()()[)iii^' over tljo watrr. I v/ondcr what bmls thcj* wcro
tliat sang tliorc i I have never heard such singing of birds
sinco then."

"No, thf'i'e are no such singing birds here," said !Mrg.
Snow. " I u-(- 1 to nu.ss tho lark's song in the morning, and
the evening voices of ilic cnshat and the blackbird. There
are no birds like them here."

" Ain't it ju-t jK>s.siblo that the music may 1)C fancy, too,
MLss CJraeiije," siiid Mi*. Snow, who did not like to hear the
regretful echo in his wife's voice when she spoke of " home."
Graeme langljod, and Mrs. Snow smiled, for they both under-
stof)d his f-eling veiT well, and ^Irs. Snow said,

"No, the music of the birds is no fancy, as you might
Imow from Sandy, Tlifre are no birds Hkc them here ; but
I have learned to distinguish many a pleasant note among
the American birds — not like our own lintie? at home, but
very sweet and cheei-ful notwithstanding."

"Tlie birds v.ero real birds, and the music was real music.
Oh ! I wonder if I ever shall hear it again ! " said Graeme,
with a sigh. " You will hear it AVill , and see the dear old
place. Oh I how I wish you coald take mo too." Will, smiled.

" I shall be glad to hear the birds and see the places again.
But I don't remember the Ebba, or, indeed, any of the old
places, except our own house and garden, and yoiu' mother's
cottage^ ZVIrs. Snov.-. I mind the last time we were there Avell."

" I mind it, too," said Mrs. Snow, gravel3\

" ^Vnd yet, I should be almost sorry to go back ngain, lesfc
I should have my ideas disturbed l;)y finding places and
people different fi'om what I have been fancying them all this
time. All those old scenes are so many lovely pictures to
me, and it W(juld be sad to go and find them less lovely than
tliey seem io me now. I have read of such things," said
Graeme.

" I would na fear anything of that kind," said Mrs. Snow ;
" I mind them all w> well."

" Do yoih ever think you would Hkc to go back again ? "

JANKT S LOVE AM) si;i:vi(i:.

383

lest

and

this

Is to

than

I said

|ow ;
9"

said "Will. " Would not jou liko to sec the old faces and tlio
old ]")lacos once more ? "

"No, lad," said ^Ivh. Snow, emphatically. ''I have no
wish (>vor to <^o back."

"You are afraid of the sea? But the steamers are very
different from the old ' Ste;idfast.' "

''I was not thinkiuQfof the sea, tlion;»h I would dread that
too. But why should I wish to '^o back? Tli(>re are two or
three places I would like to sec — the ^'Icn where my moth-
er's cotta.Lj'C stood, and two or three jj^raves. And when I
shut mv eves I can sec them here. No, I have no wish to
go back."

There was a moment's silence, and then ^Ers. Snow, turn-
ing her clear, kind eyes on her husband, over whose face a
wistful, expostulating look was stealing, said,

" I like to think about the dear faces, and the ojd places,
sometimes, and to speak about them with the bairns ; it is
both sad and pleasant now and then. But I am quite con-
tent with all tilings as they are. I wouldna go back, and I
wouldna change my lot if I might. I am (juite content."

Mr. Snow smiled and nodded in his own peculiar fashion
for reply. Tlierc could be no douV>t of A's content, or Mrs.
Snow's either, Graeme acknowlcdgeil, and then her thoughts
went back to the time when Janet's lot had been so different.
She thought of the husband of her youth, and how long the
gi-ave had closed over him ; she remembered her long }ears of
patient labor in the manse; the bitter home-sickness of the
first months in Mcrleville, and all the changes that had come
since then. And yet, Janet was not changed. She was the
very same. The qualities that had made her invaluable to
them all those years, made the happiness of her husljand and
her home still, aind after all the clianges that hfe had brought
she was content. No one could doubt that. An<l Gi-acnie
asked herself, Avould it ever be so with her? "Would slie ever
cease to vegi'ct the irrevocaldo past, and learn to grow hapjiy
in a new way ? She ]n'ayed that it might be so. Slu^ longed
for the tranquil content of those old days bufort; licr heart

' i

3S1

JANKT S LON'E AXD 6EUVICE.

wttH startled fiDin its pirlliood's f[uif't. How lon^ it sccmod
Kinco slio hiul 1)0(11 quite at peace with herself! Would she
ever be so aj^'ain ? It did not seciu possible. She tried in
vain to fancy herself ainon;^ other scenes, Avith olher liopes,
and friends, and interests. And yet, here wa?^ T.aiet, not of
ali^'ht oi* chaiif^'efnl nature ; how she had loved, and lost, and
Hutl'ered ! And yet she had f^rown content ?

" W'liiit are you thiiikiii;^' about, Gi'aemo ?" said Will., who,
as well as ^Iv. Snow, had 1)een watching her troubled face.
(Iraenie started.

"Oh! of a ^'reafc many things. I don't know why it
should have come to my mind just now, but I was thinking
of a day in ]\[erleville, lonj^ a,<^o — an Indian-summer day. I
remember walking about among the fallen leaves, and look-
ing over the pond to the hills beyond, wcnidering foolishly, I
suppose, al)out what the futm'o might bring to us all. How
lovolv it was that dav I"

" And then you came and stood within the gate, and hard-
ly gave mo a look as I passed out. I mind it, very well,"
said !Mr. Snow.

" I was not friends with you that daj-. But how should
you remember it ? How should you know it was that day,
of which I was thinking V"

'• I saw, by j'our face, you were thinking of old times, and
of all the changes that had come to you and yours ; and it
was on tliat day you first heard of one of them. That is
how I came to think of it."

" And then you came into the house, and called me from
the foot of the stairs. You we^.a well pleased with me,
either, that day," said IVIi-s. Snow.

" Oh ! I was afraiil ; and yon sjDoke to me of aunt Marian,
and of our own jMenie, and how there wight be sadder
elianges tlian even your going away. All, me! I don't think
I have been quite at peace with myself since that night."

" jNIiss Graeme 1 my dear," expostulated IVIrs. Snow.

" No, I have aye been afi'aid to find myself at peace. But
I am glad of one thing, though I did not "think that day it

JAM;1 ,S U)VK AM) hKKVICi;.

asrj

Inau,
Iclder

But

ly it

would ever iiuikc me {^fliul. Uncle Sampson, did I ever tell
yon — I Hill iifijiid I ni'vi-r did — liow <^hu\ 1 am now, that yoii
woi'o Htron^tT than I was, and priivaik'd — in taking' Janet
fi'om us, I mean?"

Sho was standing- hchind him, hO that ho did not hoc her
face, lie did not turn round, or tiy to sec it. lie hooked
towards his wife, with a j^n-avc smile.

"I don't think you ever told mo in words."

"No, because it is only a little while that I have been really
gl;id ; it is only shice your coming' has made; mo sure sho is
h;ippi(>r — far ha^jpier with you, and Emily and Sandy, than
ever wo could make her now; almost as happy as .she deserves
to be."

" I reckon, the hap[)iness ain't all o: < no side of the house,
by a great deal," said Mr. Snow, gravely.

" No, I know that — I am sure » f that. And I am glad —
so glad, that it rccouLilcs mo to liic ki'owjcdgc that wo can
never be quite the same to her as wc uiii'd to be, and that is
saying luuch."

'SVin't you most afraid that it might hart her to hear yo;i
say so ?" said Mr, Snow, his eyes never leaving his w ife's face.
They were quite alone by this time. "Will, had obeyed tlio
call of the childi'cn, and was gone away.

"No, I am not afraid. She knows 1 would not hurt Icr
willingly, by word or deed, so you must lot me say how v.-ry
glad I am we lost her, for her sake. And when 1 remem' r
all that she has lived through — all tho sorrow she has sc u ;
knowing her steadfast, loving heart, and how little she is
given to change, yet seemg hor happy, and with jjowcr to
make others happy, it gives me courage to look into tho
futui'o ; it makes me l(>ss afraid."

His eyes left his wife's face now, andiunicd, with a look of
wonder, to Graeme.

" AVhat is it, dear?" he asktd. " Is there anythhig I may
not know ?"

"No. Only I am glad for Janet's sake, and for yours,

and for mine, too, becauisn "

386

JANKTH LOVK AND SERVICK.

' mS^ ' '

I^Hjf :

Wm ^^

wmm '■

It woiild not have boon easy to say more, and, l)C'sitlos, the
others were coming up tlio wallc, and, partly bocauso tlioro
were teara in lior oycs, and partly bocauso slio'slirunk ner-
vously fi'oni the excessive friendliness ■with which it seemed
to be Mrs. Grove's intentit)U on tho occasion to distinf^uish
licr, she turned, hopin^if to escape. She did not succeed, how-
ever, and stood still at the door, knowinjjf very well what
would bo Mrs. (trove's first remark.

" Ah ! I see you havo an eve for the beautiful."

She had heard her say it just as many times as she had
stood with her on that very beautiful spot ; and she never
expected to stand there without hearin«j^ it, certahily not if,
as on tho present occasion, there were strangers there too.
It was varied a little, this time.

" You see, Mr. Green, Miss Elliott has an eye for the lioau-
tiful. I knew wo sliould find her here, with her friends."

The rest was as usual.

"Observe how entirely different this is, from all the other
views about the place. There is not a glimpse of the river,
or of the mountains, except tliat IjIuc line of hills, very dis-
tant indeed. The scene is ({uito a pastoral one, you see. Can
you imagine anything more tran(iuil ? It seems the very do-
main of silence and repose."

The last remark was not so efiectivo as usual, because of
the noise made by Charlie IMiUar and Will., and the young
Groves, as they ran along the broad walk full in sight.

" It is a bonny, quiet place," said Mrs. Snow.

" The garden is not soon at its best now," continued IMrs.
Grove. " The beauty of the spring flowers is over, and except
the roses, wo have not mar^y simimcr flowers ; wc make a bet-
ter show later in the season."

"It looks lu'st-rate," said Mr. Snow.

'• It costa a great deal of trouble and expense to keep it
lip as it ought to bo kej^t," continued ]Mrs. Grove. " I some-
times think it is not right to spend so nnich time and money
for what is a mere gratification to the eye."

Mrs. Grove was bent on being agreeable to all present, and

JANETS LOVK AND 8?:iiVICE.

387

,bct.

p it

)me-

hnoy

she tliouf^lit " the economical doilgc " was as good as any, con-
sidoring her audience.

"There is something in that," said Mr. Snow, meditative-
ly ; " bnt a place hke this ought to bo a great deal nion; than
that, I think."

" Oh ! I exi)ect it pays," said Mr. Green. " To people who
arc fond of such things, I expect there is more pleasure to
be got for the same money from a garden than from 'most
any other thing."

" To say nothing of the pleasure given to other folk — to
one's friends," suggested Mrs. Snow.

" I was caknilating that, too," said ^Ir. Green. " Tlie pleas-
ure one's friends get tells on one's own comfort ; you feel
better yom'self, if the folks about you feel well, especially if
you have the doing of it. That pays.'*

"If we are trav^iUng in the right road, the more we see
of the beautiful things God has made, the ])etter and the
happier we will be," said Mr. Snow. " It will pay in that way,
I guess."

He turnetl an inquiiing look on ]Mr. Green, as he spoke,
but that gentleman, probably not being prepared to speak
advisedly on the subject, neither agreed nor dissented, and
his eyes travelled on till they rested on the face of his wife.

"Yes," said she, softly, "the more we see of God's love
and wisdom in the beautiful things He has made, the more
we shall love Him, and in loving Him wo shall gi'ow like Him."

IMr. Snow nodded. Mr. Green looked curiously fi-om one
to the other as they spoke.

" I suppose we may expect something wonderful in the way
of gardens and pleasm-e-gixuinds, when you ha^■o completed
your place, 3Ir. Green," said Mrs. Grove, Mho did not care
that the conversation should take a serious turn on this oc-
casion. She tlatterod herself that slie had ah'eady won the
coniidence and admiration of Mr. and Mrs. Snow, In* her
wannly-expressed sympathy with their "rather ])ei'uliar"
views and opinions. Whether 3Ir. Green would be su fortu-
nate was questionable, so she went on quickly.

388

JANET'S LOVE AND SKRVICE.

" Miss Elliott, Mr. Green has bcoii tcllinj^- me about his
place as avo came up the garden. It must be very lovely,
standing, as it does, on the borders of one of those vast
prames that we all admire."

Tlius appealed to, it was unpardonable in Graeme that she
should rcsj)ond to the lady's admiidng enthusiasm with only
the doubtful assent implied in a hesitating " Indeed ;" but
her enthusiasm was not to be damped.

" There must bo something grand and elevating in the con-
stant view of a j)rau'ie. It must tend to enlarge one's ideas,
and satisfy one ; don't you think so, 3Iiss Elliott ? "

"I don't know," said Graeme, hesitatingly. "For a place
of residence, I should suppose it might be a little dull and
unvaried."

" Of coui'se, if there Avas nothing besides the prairie ; but
with such a residence as Mr. Green's — I forget what style of
architecture it is."

But Mr. Green was not learned on the subject of architec-
ture, and said nothing about it. He only knew that people
called his house a very handsome one, and that it had cost
him a deal of money, and he said so, emphatically, adding
his serious doubts whether the investment would "pay."

" Oh ! you cannot tell yet," said IMrs. Grove. "That will
depend altogether on circumstances. It is quite time that
you were settling down into a quiet family man. You have
been roaming about the world quite long enough. I don't
at al approve of the European trip, unless, indeed — "

She paused, and looked so exceedingly arch and wise, that
Mr. Green looked a Httle puzzled and fooUsh by contrast, per-
haps.

" Miss EUiott," continued Mrs. Grove, bent on carrying out
her laudable intention of drawing Graeme into the conversa-
ti<m, "have you quite decided on not accompanying your
brother?"

" Accompanying Will. ? Oh ! I have never for a moment
thought of such a thing. Tlie expense v>'ould put it quite out

JANKT S LOVE AND SEUVICf.

389

at will
that
liavG
don't

that
per-

1 <^ out

of tlie question, even if there were no other reasons against
it."

" Indeed, then I must have inisunderstootl you when I fan-
cied I hoard you say how much you W(juld like to go. I
thought vou longed for a chance to see Scotland again."

" I daresay you heard me say something of the kind. I
should like to visit Scotland very much, and other countries,
too. And I mtend to do so when I have made my fortune,"
added she, laughing.

" Or, when some one has made it for you ; that would do
as well, would it not ?" asked ]Mrs. Grove.

" Oh, yes ! a great deal better. AVhen some one makes
my fortune for uic, I shall visit Europe. I think I may prom-
ise that."

"Have you ever been \Vest, yet. Miss Elliott ? You si)oko
of going at one time, I remember," said Mr. Green.

" Never yet. All my travcUing has been done at the fire-
side. I have very nmch wisheil to visit my brother Nonuan.
I daresay Rose and I will find oiu'sclves there some day,"
added she, turning to ]Mr. Snow.

" Unless we keep you in Merlcville," said he, smihng.

" Oh ! well, I am very willing to bo kept there on certain
conihtions you know."

" How do you suppose Fanny could ever do without you ?"
asked INIrs. Grove, reproachfully.

" Oh ! she would miss us, I dare.sav. But I don't think we
are absolutely necessary to her happiness."

'' Of coiu'se, she will have to lose you one of these days.
"NVe cannot expect that you will devote yourself to youi* bro-
thers always, I know."

" Especially as they don't stand in particular need of my
devotion," said Graeme, stiiHy, as slie ollered her arm to
Mrs. Snow. " Let us walk agaui. ^Vh!lt can ^Vill. and the
childi'cn be doing? Something extraordinary, if one may
judge by the noifse."

]Mi*s. Grove rose to go with them, but lingered a moment

300

J AN I. T a I/)VK AND SKKVICK

bcliind to romavk to Mr. Snow on <ho (>xcro(liiif,' lovolinpss of
iNIiss I'jllioU's disposition jiiul dianictcr, lici* f^Tcut suprricnity
to yonn«^lii(lii's in {j^oneiiil, and cspocially on tlio <lovotioii so
apparent in all hor iiitorcourso with liorold friend.

" And with you, too," slic added ; " I Rcarccly can say
which she honors most, or on which she most rcHes for coun-
sel."

"T]uTo,"said she to herself, as she followed the otliers
down the walk, "I havcfj^iven him an oivniin**-, if ho only has
the sense to use it. One can see what he wonts easil}'^
euoufjfh, and if he Iniows what is forhisadvantaj^o howillj^et
the good word of his countryman, and he ought to thank me
for the chance."

CHAPTER XXXIV

WHY iMrs. (irovc tlionj^rlit Mr. Green might need an
openiiifT f„r unytliing ho had to say to Mr. Snow did
not i4)i)(!ar, hh ho did not avail himself of it. It was Mr.
Snow who spoke first, after a sliort silence.

" ( Joing to ^,nve up Imsiness and settle down. Eh ?"

" I have tlioiight of it. I d(^n't l)encve I should enjoy life
half as well if I (hd, however."

"How niueh do you enjoy it now ?" inquired Mr. Snow.

"Well, not a great deal, that is a fact ; but as well as folks
generiUly do, I reclcoii. But, after all, I do believe to keep
hard to work is about as good a way as any to take comfort
in the world."

Mr. Green took a manj-bladed knife fi-oni his pocket, and
plucking a twig from the root of a yoiuig cedar, began
fashioning it uito an instrument slender and smooth.

" That is about the conclusion I have come to," repeated
he ; " and I ex^x-ct I will have to keep to work if I mean to
get the good of life."

" There are a good many kinds of work to bo done in the
world," suggested Mr. Snow.

Mr. Green gave him a glance cui'ious and inquiring.

" ^Vd\, I suppose there ai'c a good many ways of workijig
in the world, but it all comes to t no same tlnng pretty nuich,
I guess. Folks work to get a living, and then +o accuiiiulate
property. Some do it in a large way, and some in a small
way, but the end is the same."

" Suppose you should go to work to spend your money
now ?" suggested :\Iv. Snow, again.

" Well, I 've dono a httlo in that way, too, and I have
(391)

JANKT H LoVF, AM) HKUVIOF.

■I

nboul, <'(>in(> (() llio ('oiu'lnsion iliut lliat don't, \y,i\ Jis well us
llic iiiiilviii;;- of il, us I'.ir us the coiiifori it {'ivos. 1 iilii'l. U
\vy\ licli niiiii. no{ near so rich ms folks lliiiik ; Imi 1 Ii;ul ;;'ot
il kind of side of doiii;^" Ihc s.imc lliiii;;' all the lime, .'Uitl so
1 lliou^lii I would liy Koiiu!(liiii<.j clsi' u spell. So 1 vatlicr
drew uj), ihoiii;h I ain't out of Ixisincss vot, hy a {^niat (I(>id.
1 (lioimhi 1 would Irv and sro il' I fould niak(! a lionu', so I
built. J>ut a house ain't a home; — not l>y a ;^^reat si;^ht. I
have >^oi as hand.sonio a. place as anybody uccmI wish to have,
but I w<.)uld ratlu r Uvt; in a hotel any day than have tho
bother of it. I don't move than half l)ehevo I hIuiU ever livo
there lou^ at a time."

He paused, and whittled with <}jreat earnestnesH.

"It seems a kind of aiij^ravatin<jf, now, don't it, when a
man has worked hard half his life and more to make i;rop-
crty, that he should n't Ix^ able to enjoy it wh(>n he haa
got it."

" What do you su[)pos(! is tlie reason V" asked INIi'. Smnv,
pfravely, but with r;iih(>r a preo(H'upied air. He Avaa wonder-
ing ho ^Y it was that jMr. (Ireen should have been betrayed
into giving his tli'cary conlidenees to a comparative stranger.

"AVell, I don't know," replied j\lr. (Ireen, nreditatively.
" I suppose, for one thing, I have been so long in the mill
that I o:in't get out of tlu^ old jog easily, I should have
b<\gun st)oner, or have taken work and pleasure by turns as I
went ah>ng. I don't take much comfort ui what seems to
please most folks."

There Avas a pause ; IMr. Sik)w had nothing to say in reply,
however, and in a little ]\lr. Green went on :

" I have n't any very near relations ; cousins and cousin's
children are the neare-^. I have helped them some, and
would rather do it than iu)t, and tliey arc willing enough to
be helped, but they don't seem very near to me. I enjoy
well enough gomg ti) sec them once in a while, but it don't
amoimt to much all they care abi)ut me ; and, to tell the
truth, it ain't much I care about them. If I had a family
of my own, it would be diirereut. Women folks and young

Iisin s
jiiul
:^h to
|itjoy
llou't
tho
liiiily
Vuig

JANirrs i.ovi; and HKitvici-:

39a

follvH enjoy spcjidiii;^' iiioiicy, jukI I siipposf^ T woiiM liiivo
enjoyed Hceiiif^' IIk-mi do it. lint 1 Ii;iv<! ulxuil coiik! io llie.
conclusion ili.'it I Hliould luivo hccu to tluit lon;^' 'W-'

WilliiMit moving' or tiiniin;.,' IiIh lie.'id, Ik; ^'iiv(! IiIh new
fricnid !i look out of the corner (jf his (yes that it nii^^'ht luivo
Kurpriscd liiiu 11 little to sec ; but Mr. Snow saw nothinj^ at
the nionK-nt. To wonder as to why thi.s lUiW uc(|uaintance
hIiouM hestow his con(id(!n<!o on him, was KUC(teedinf^ a f<'el-
in<^' of pity for him — a d(!sire to help him — and he was con-
Hideiin^ the propriety of iniprovin*^ the oi)portuni<y given to
"dro]) a Avord in neasfju " for his Ixsnelit. Not that he had
much confideiuH! in hin own slcill at this H<n't of tliinf^. It i.s
to be fear(!d the deacon looked on this way of witncHKin*^ for
tlio truth as a cross to bo bonu! rather than as a i)rivile<,'c to
bo enjoyed. Ifo was readier with good de(;ds than with good
words, and v/hile Ik; liesitated, Mr. (Jreen went on :

" How f</lks can hang round with notiiing particular to do
is what I can't understand. I never sluMild get used to it, I
know. I Vo made considerable property, and J expect I have
enjoyed the maldng more than I ever shall (;njoy the spend-
ing of it."

" I should n't wonder if you had," said Mr. Snow, gravely.

" I havAi thought of going right slaj) into political life. I
might have got into tho Legislature, time and again ; and I
don't doubt but I might find my way to Congress by spend-
ing something handsome. That might be as good a way to
let off the steam as any. AVhen a man g<;ts into i)olitics, he
don't seem to mind nuich else. Ho has got to drive right
through. I don't know how well it pays."'

'* In tho way of comfort, I 'm afraid it don '/ pay," said 2ilr.
Snow.

" I expect not. I don't more than half think it would pay
mc. Politics have got to bo consideral)ly mixed up in oui"
country. I don't believe I should over get to sec my way
clciu' to go all '.^ngths ; and I don't believe it would amount
to anything if I could. Besides, if a maii expects to got very
far along in tJiat road, In; has got to take a fail' start in good
17*

394

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

II I

I*.' ■ ;

t-\

season. I learned to read and cypher in the old log school-
house at home, and my mother taught me the catechism on
Sunday afternoons, and that is about all the book-learning I
ever got I should n't hardly have an even chance with some
of those college-bred chaps, though there are some things I
know as well as the best of them, I reckon. Have you ever
been out AVest?"

" I was there once a good many years ago. I had a gi*eat
notion of going to settle there when I was a young man. I
am glad I did n't, though."

" Money ain't to be made there anything h'ke as fast as it
used to be," said Mr. Green. " But there is chance enough,
if a man has a head for it. I have seen some cool business
done there at one time and another."

The chances in favor of INIr. Snow's " word in season "
were becoming fewer, he saw plainly, as IVIr. Green wai^jlered
off from his dissatisfaction to the varied remembrances of his
busmess-life ; so, with a great effort, he said :

"Ain't it just possible that your property and the spending
of it don't satisfy you because it is not in the nature of such
things to give satisfaction ? "

Mr. Green turned and looked earnestly at him.

" Well, I have heard so, but I never beheved it any moro
for hearing it said. The folks that say it oftenest don't act as
if they belioved it themselves. They try as hard for it as
any one else, if they are to be judged by their actions. It is
all right to say they believe it, I suppose, because it is in the
Bible, or something like it is."

" And you beheve it, not because it is in the Bible, but be-
cause you are learning, by your own experience, every day
you Uve."

Mr. Green whistled.

"Come, now; ain't that going it a little too strong? I
never said I didn't expect to enjoy my property. I en-
joy it now, after a fashion. If a man ain't going to enjoy
his property, what is he to enjoy ? "

"All that some people enjoy is the making of it. You

JANETS LOVi: AND SERVICK.

395

have clone that, you say. There is less pleasure to bo got
from wctilth, vxen in the most favorable circumstances, than
those who have n't got it believe. They who have it tincl that
out, as you are doing.

" But I can fancy myself getting aU the i)leasm*e 1 want out
of my property, if only some tilings were ditrerent — if I had
something else to go with it. Other folks seem to take the
comfort out of theirs as they go along,"

" They seem to ; but how can you be sure as to the enjoy-
ment they really have ? How many of your fiiends, do you
suppose, suspect that you don't get all the satisfaction out
of yoiu's that you seem to ? Do you suppose the lady who
was saying so much in praise of your fine place just now, has
any idea that it is only a weariness to you ?"

" I was telUng her so as we came along. She says the rea-
son I don't enjoy it is because there is something else that I
haven't got, that ought to go along with it ; and I agreed
with her there,"

Again a furtive glance was sent towards iSIr. Snow's
thoughtful face. He smiled and shook his head,

" Yes, it is something else you want. It is always somo-
thhig else, and ever wiU be till the end comes. That somc-
thuig else, if it is ever yours, \\ill bring disappointment with
it. It will come as you don't expect it or want it, or it will
come too late. There is no good talking. There is notliing
in the world that it will do to make a portion of."

Mr. Green looked up at liim with some curiosity and sur-
prise. This souiided very much hke what ho used to hear in
conference niceting long ago, but he had an idea that such
remarks were inappro]jriate out of meeting, and ho wondered
a little what could be Mr. Snow'^! motive for speaking in that
way just then.

"As to making a portion of it, I don't know about that ;
but I do kncjw that there is considerable to be got out of
money. What can't it get? Or rather, I should say, what
can bo got ^\ithout it ? I don't say that they who have the
most of it are always best off, because oth(>r things como in

300

.TANirr S LOVE AND SEIiVICE.

to woiTv tli^rn, mfiybo ; Init tlio clianccs are in fiiv^r of tlio
man thut lias all Ik; wants to spoiul. You'll novcr dony that."

"That ain't jnst tlio way I would put it," said ^Ir. Snow,
"I woul<l Kay tliat tlio man who expects his property to niako
him lia])py, will Ikj disappointed. The amount ho has got
don't matter. It ain't in it to give happiness. I know, partly
beeauso I have tried, and it has failed me, and partly beoauso
I am told that " a man's life consistcth not in the abundance
of the thing;-; that he posscsseth."

" AVell, now, if that is so, will you tell mo why there ain't
one man in ten thousand who believes it, or at least who acts
as if he believed it ? "Wliy is all the world chasing after wealth,
as if it were the one thing for body and soul ? If money ain't
worth having, why hasn't somebody found it out, and set the
world right about it l^efore now ?"

"As to money not being worth the having, I never said,
that, "\Miat I sav is, that God never meant that mere wealth
should make a man happy. Tliat has been found out times
without numV>er ; but as to setting the world right about it,
I expect that is one of the things that each man must loam
by experience. Most folks do leani it after awhile, in ouo
way or other,"

" Well," said ^Ir, Green, gravely, " you look as if you be-
lieved what you say, and you look as if 3'ou enjoyed life pretty
well, too. If it ain't your property that makes you happy,
what is it V"'

" It ain't my iiropciiy, mrtain," said ]\Ir. Snow, with em-
phasis. " I know I should n't bo any happier if I had twice as
much. And I am sure I shouldn't be less happy if I hadn't
half as much ; my happiness rests on a surer foundation than
anything I have got"

He paused, casting about in his thoughts for just tlio right
word to say — something that might be as " a fire and a ham-
mer" to the softening and breaking of that world-hardened
heai-t.

" He doe.'i look as if he believed what he was sajdng," Mr.
Greeji was thinking to himself, " It is just possible he might

JANET S LOVK ANO SERVfCE.

307

givo mo a liint. Ho don't look like a man who ilon't priictiso
as lu) in-eaclics." Aloiul, li(3 said,

"Conic, now, '^•o ahead. AVhat has cured oiu^, ni:iy help
anotlior, you know, (live ns j-onr idea as to what is a suro
foundation for a man's lia2)piness."

Mr. Snow looked ffravely into his face and said,
"Blessed is the man who feareth the Lord."
"Blessed is the man whose trust the Lord is."
" Blessed is the man whoso transgi'ossion is forf^dvcn, whoso
Bin is covered."

" Blessed is the man to whom the Lord imputcth not in-
icpiity, in whose sjiirit there is no giiilo."

]Mr. Green's eye fell before his earnest g'aze. It camo into
his mind that if there was happiness to bo found in the world,
this man had fomid it. But it seemed a hai)piness very far
awaj' from him — quite beyond his reach — Homethinjf that it
Would 1)0 impossible for him ever to find now. The sound
of his mother's voiie, softly breaking the stillness of n Sab-
bath afternoon, with some such words as tliese, camo back to
him, and just for a moment he realized their unchangeable
tnith, and for that moment ho know that his life had been a
failure. A pang of regiet, a longing for an(ither chance, and
a sense of the vanity of such a wish, smote on his heart for
an instant and then passed away. Ho rose from his seat,
and moved a few paces down the walk, and when ho camo
back ho did not sit down again. His cedar twig was smoothed
down at both ends to the finest possible jooint, and after l^al-
ancing it for a minute on his foretingers, he tossed it over his
shoulder, and shutting his knife -with a click, put it in nis
pocket before ho spoke.

" "Well, I don't know as I am much better off for that,"
said he, discontentedly. " I suppose you mean that I ought
to gi^t religion. That is no new idea. I have heard Uial eveiy
time I have gone to meeting for the last thirty years, which
hasn't been as often as it might have been, but it has been
often enough for all the good it has done me."

Ho looked at Mr. Snow as if ho expected him to make some

•Ji r

! ( -.^

398

JANKT S I.OVK A>:i) SKRVICE.

Rort of a voply, l)ut ho was silont. ]Io w.-is thiiiUinff how
vain iiiiv words ol" his wouhl bo to coiiviiicc liiiii, or io show
liiiii 11 moro (!X('(H(Mit wny. JI(! was thuikiii;,' of tho old tiinc^,
and of (lio talk wasted on him by th(! {^'•ood pcoplo who would
fain have hcl[)cd huii. At last ho said, j;;rav('ly :

"It wouhl n't amount to much, all I could say lo yon, ovoii
if I was <^M)od !it talkin;j;, wliich I aui't. I can only tell you
that I novel- know what it was to \w satisliod till I j^'ot roli^'-
ion, and I havo never been discontented since, and I don't
boli(>vo I (!ver shall a;,'aiu, let what will happen to mo."

H(! i)aused a moment, and added,

" I don't supp(JHo anythinj^ I could say would help you to
sec things as I wish you did, if I were to talk all nij^ht. Talk
always falls short of Iho mark, unless tho heart is prepared
for it, and then tho sinjiilest word is enough. Thoro aro
none bettor than the words I gave you a uiinulo ago ; and
when everything in tho Avorld seems to bo faiUng you, just
you try what trust in tho Lord will do."

Nothing more was said. 'J'ho sound of approaching foot-
steps warn(Hl thom that they \\crc no longer alone, and in a
little jVIrs. Elliott and lloso wore scon coming up the walk, fol-
lowed by Arthur and Caittain Starr. They were discussuig
something that interested thciu greatly, and their merry
voi('os fell pleasantly on the ear. Very i)rotty both young
ladies looked, crowned with tho roses they had been weaving
into wr(\aths. Tho gi'ave look which had settled on Mv.
Green's face, passed away as ho watched their approach.

"Pretty creatures, both of them," remarked ho. " Mrs. El-
liott appcai-s well, dont she ? I never saw any one improve
so much as she has done in the last two years. I used to
think her — well not voiy superior."

" She is a pretty httle thing, and '^-ood tempered, I think,"
said Mr. Snow, smihng. "I shouldn't wonder if our folks
made something of lior, after all. She is in belter keeping
than she used to be, I guess."

" She used to be — well, a little of a Hirt, and I don't be-
lieve she has forgot all about it yat," said Mr. Green, nod-

.lANirr a i-ovi: and sicuvice.

399

aviiig
]Mr.

i. El-

irovo

icd to

I't bc-
nod-

ding ill (ho direction of Cjiptain Starr, with a knowiiij^ look.
Tho possil)ility of a luarricM] woman's anuiHin<^ hcr.sclf in tliat
•way was not anion;^ tho nnhjccts to which ^[r. Snow had
^^iv(!n his attention, so ho had nothinij to say in reply.

"And tho other one — she nndtrstands a little of it, too, I

fpU'SM."

"AMiat, Kosie? She is a child. (JraeiiK? will teach her
bettor than that. She despises sneh thinj^'s," said Mv. Snow,
warmly .

" She don't flirt any herself, does she ? " asked Mr. Green,
coolly. " ^liss Ellic^tt, I moan."

Mr. Snow turned on him astonished eyes.

"I don't know as I understand what you mean by flirting.
I always supposed it was si^mcthing wrong, or, at least, some-
thb'g unbecoming ui any A\oman, married or single, (jracnio
aiii't one of that sort."

IVIr. Green shniggod his shoulders incnidulously.

"Oh! as to its beuig' wrong, and so forth, I don't know.
They all do it, I guoss, in one way or other. I don't suppose
Miss Graeme would go it so strong as that little woman, but
I guess she knows how."

The voice of Rose prevented Mr. Snow's indignant reply.

" But, iVrthur, you are not a disinterested judge. Of course
you woiild admire Fanny's most, and as for Captain Starr, he
is "

" He is like the ass between two bundles of hay."

"Nonsense, Arthur. Fanny, let ns ask Mr. Snow," said
Rose, sprmging forward, and slightly bending her head.
" Now, Uncle Sampson, which is prettiest ? I '11 leave the de-
cision to you."

" Uncle Sampson " was a' very pleasant sound in ]Mr.
Snow's ears, and never more so, than when it came from tho
lips of Rose, and it was v.'itli a loving as well as an adraij'ing
look that he answered —

" Well, I can't say which is the prettiest. You are both as
pretty as you need to be. If you were as good as you aro
pretty ! "

400

JANKT 8 LOVE AND SKRVICf:.

Lli

Rose pouted, impatient of the lauglitor A\liicli tnis speech
excited.

" I mean our wreaths. Look, mine is made of these dear
httlo Scotch roses, with hero and there a moss-rose bud.
Faniiy's, you see, are all ojien roses, white and d:unask. Now,
which is the prettiest ? "

She took her wreath from her head in her eagerness, and
held it up, admiringl}'.

"Yours ain't half so pretty as it was a minute ago. I
think, now, I should admire IMrs. EUiott's most," said Mr.
Green, gi-avely.

They both curtesycd to Imn.

" You see, llosie, Mr. Green has decided in my favor,"
said Faimy, triumphantly.

" Y''es, but not in favor of your wreath. The others thought
the same, but I don't mind about that. It is om* ^vl•eaths I
want to know about. Let us ask Graeme."

But Graeme did not come alone.* The little Groves came
with her, and "Will, and Charlie followed, a rather noisy
party. The little girls were delighted, and danced about,
exclaiming at the beauty of the flowery crowns ; and in a lit-
tle, j\Iiss Victoria was weai'uig that of Rose, and imitating
the au's and graces of her elder sister in a way that must
have encoiu'aged her mother's hopes as to her ultimate suo
cess in life. The other begged piteously for Fanny's, but she
was too well aware of its charmmg effect on her own head to
yield at once to her entreaties, and in the midst of the laugh-
ing confusion, that accompanied the carrying of the child's
point, Graeme and ]\Irs. Snow, who confessed herself a little
tired after her walk, entered the sununer-house again. Mrs.
Grove and Mr. Prouilfute entered with them, and the others
disposcid themselves in groups about the door. Mr. Green
stood leaning on the door-jiost looking in upon them.

" ]\Iiss Elliott," said Mr. Proudfute, presently, " what has
become of you for a long time ? I have hardly seen j'ou for
years— for a year at least — and we used to meet so often."
Graeme laughed.

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

401

liilcVs

littlo

Mrs.

thcrs

ircen

lias
>ii for
ten."

" I have seen you a gi'cat inaiiv times Avitbiu a year. I am
afraid my society doesn't make the im})ressi()ii on yon it
ought. Have you for<^otteu yom* New Year's visit, and a visit
or two besides, to say nothing of duuice meetings in the
street and in th(.! market ? "

" Oh, but excuse me. I mean we have not met in society.
You have been making a hermit of yourself, which is not very
kind or very comiilinientary to youi' friends, I assiu'e you."

"I am veiy glad to hear you say so," exclaimed INIrs.
Grove. " That is a subject on which Sliss Elliott and I never
agree — I mean the claims society has ui>on her. If she
makes a hermit of herself, I assure you she is not pennitted
to do so without remonstrance."

" Your ideas of a hermit's life (hffer from those generally
hekl," said Oracmc, vexed at the personal turn of the conver-
sation, and more vexed still v, ith !Mi-s. Grove's interference.
" "What does the ballad say ?

' A scrip with fruits and horbs well stored,
And wat(>r from the spring.'

"I am afraid a hciinit's life would not suit me."

" Oh ! of course, we are speaking of comparative seclusion,"
said jMi's. Grove. " Still, as ladies are supposed to have a
fancy for going to extremes, ]\Iiss EUiott's taste for quietness
is the most desirable extreme of the two."

The remark was addressed to 'Mr. Green, who was an inter-
ested listener, but Mr. Proudfute answered it.

"I am by no means sure of that, my dear madam. I can
understand how those who have an opportunity of dail}' or
froqu(>nt intercourse with IMiss Elliott should be content to
think so ; but that she slioidd withdraw herseh altogether
from society, should not be permitted. "What charming par-
ties, I remember, we used to enjoy."

"]\[r. Proudfute,"' said Graeme, gravely, "look at ]Mrs.
Snow's face. You are conveying to liev the idea that, at one
time, I was quite giv(ni up to the pursuit of pleasure, and sho
is sliocked, and no wonder. Now, my own impression is,
that I was never ve:T fond of gohig into society, as you call

402

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

ffljli "I

iKi:

it. I certainly nc\'er mot you more than two or tlu'ee times
— at large parties, I mean."

]Mr. ProiKlfute bowed low.

" Well, that shows how profound was the impression wliich
youi' society made on me, for on looking back I uniformly
associate you with all the pleasant assembhes of the season.
You Avent with us to Beloeil, did you not ? "

Graeme shook her head.

'* ^V'ell, no wonder I forget, it is so long ago, now.
You were at ]\Irs. Roxliuiy's gi*eat affair, were you not? It
happened not long before IMi*. Elphinstone's death. Yes, I
remember you were there."

" Yes, I remember you were kind enough to point out to
nie the beauties of that wonderful picture, in the little room
up stairs," said Graeme, smiling.

" Yea, you were ill, or slightly unwell, I should say, for you
recovered immediately. You were there, ]Vfr. Green, I remem-
ber. It was a gi'eat affair, given in honor of INIiss Elphin-
stonc and yom* friend lluthven. By-the-by, Misr Elhott,
they lay themselves open to censure, as well as you. They
rarely go out now, I hear."

" I am to be censui'ed in good company, it seems," said
Graeme, laughing.

" I suppose you see them often," continued no. " You
used to be quite intimate with my pretty cousin — I call her
consul, though wo are only distantly connected. She is a
very nice little w^oman."

" Yes, I believe you used to bo very intimate with them
both," said Mrs. Grove, " and there has hardly been any
intercourse since Fanny's marriage. I have often wondered
at and regretted it."

"Have you?" said Cracmo, coldly. "We have had little
intercourse with many old fi-iends since then."

" Oh ! yes, I daresay, but the lluthvcns are very different
from most of your old friends, and worth the keeping. I
must speak to Fanny about it."

" Wo saw ]Miss Elpliinstone often during the fii'st winter

.TAXET S LOVE AND SER^^CP.

403

tlioin

little

after her return. That was the %\-int'^r that !Mr. Proudfutc re-
members as so gay," said Graeme. "Did I ever tell you
about the beginning of liosic's acquaintance with her, long
before that, when she wandered into the garden and saw tho
gowans ? "

*' Yes, dear, you told mo al)0ut it in a letter," said Mrs. Snow.

" I never shall forget the first ghmpse I got of that bunch
of flowers," said Graeme, rather huiTiedl}-. " Rose has it yet
among her treasures. She must show it vou."

But Mrs. Cirove did not care to hear about Rosie's flowers
just then, and rather perversely, as Graeme thought, n^verted
to the falling away of their old intuaacy with the Ruthvens,
and to wonder at its cause ; and there was something in her
tone that made !Mrs. Snow tm*n gi'avc, astonished eyes ujion
her, and hclj)ed Graeme to answer very ({uietly and coldly to
her remark : (^^-^

" I can easily see how marriage would do something towards
estranging such warm friends, when only one of tho parties
are interested ; but you were very ultimate with ilr. Riithven,
as well, were you not ? "

" Oh ! yes ; more so than with Miss Elphmstone. ^Ir.
Ruthven is a very old friend of OcU's. We came over in tho
same ship together."

" I mind liim well," interposed ]Mrs. Snow; " a kindly, well-
intentioned lad he seemed to be. Miss Rose, my dear, I
doubt you shouldna be sitting there on the grass, witli the dew
falling, nor IMrs. Arthm*, either."

A movement was made to return to the house.

"Oh! Janet," whispered Graeme, "I am afrai«l jou are
tired, mmd as well as body, after all this foolish talk."

" By no means, my deai\ It wouldna be very edifj-ing for
a continuance, but once in a way it is enjoyable enough. Ho
seems a decent, hannless body, that Mr. Proudfutf*. I wonder
if ho is any friend of Dr. Proudfutc, (jf Knockie ? "

" I don't know, indeed," said Graeme, laughing ; " but if ho
is a gi*eat man, or connected with great folk, I will ask him.
It will be an easy way of giving him pleasure."

404

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

Tliey did not mate a long evening of it. jMr. Green was
presented lljy Mrs. Grove with a book of plates, and Graeme
was beguiled to a side-table to admire tliem with iiim. I\Ir.
Proudf uto divided his attention between them and the piano, to
which Hose and Fanny had betaken themscive.-;, till at the
snggestiim of Mrs. Grove, Ai'thur challenged hhn to a game
of chess, which lasted all the evening. Mrs. Grove devoted
herself "to INIi's. Snow, and surprised her by the significant
glances she sent now and then in tlie dii'ection of Graeme
and jVIr. Green ; while Mr. Grove got IVIr. Snow into a comer,
and enjoyed the satisfaction of pouring out his heart on the
harbor question to a new and interested auditor.

" Rose," said Farniy, as th.cy sat together the next day after
dinner, " what do you think mamma said to me this morning?
Shall I tell you ? ""

" K it is anything particularly interesting you may," said
Rose, in a tone that imphcd a doubt.

" It was about you," said Fanny, nodding significantly.

" Well, the subject is interesting," said Rose, " whatever the
remark might be."

" What is it, Fanny ? " said Arthur. " Rosie is really very
anxious to know, though she pretends to be so indifTerent. I
daresay it was some appropriate remarks on her flii'tation
with the gallant captain, last night."

" ]\Iamma did n't mention Captain Starr, but she said she
had never noticed before that Rose was so fond of admiration,
and a little inclined to flii't."

Rose reddened and bit her lips,

" I am much obliged to Mrs. Grove for her good opmion.
Were there any other appropriate renrarks ? "

" Oh ! yes ; plent}" more," said I'aimy, laughmg. " I told
mamma it was all nonsense. She used to say the same of
me, and I reminded her of it. I told her we all looked upon
Rose as a child, and that she had no idea of flirting — and such
thuigs."

" I hope you did not do violence to your conscience when
you said it," said Ai'thur, gravely.

n ^

JANETS LOVE AND SICEVICE.

405

" Of course not. But still when I bc^nin to think about it,
I could not bo qiiitc sure."

" Set a thief to catch a thief," said her husband.
Fanny shook her fin;^^cr at him.

" But it was n't Captain Starr nor Charlie Millar mamma
meant. It was Iili\ Green."

The cloud vanished fi'om Eosie's face. She laughed and
clapped her hands. Her brothers laughed, too.

"Well done, Rosie," said Ai-thur. "But from some
manoiuvQring I observed last-night, I was led to believe that
]\Irs. Grove had other views for the gentleman."

" So she had," said I\anny, eagerly. " And she says Boso
may spoil all if she divides his attention. It is just what
a man of his years is hkely to do, mamma says, to fall in love
with a young girl hko Bosie, and (iracme is so much more
suitable. But I told mamma ( Jracane would never have him."
"Allow me to say, Fanny, that I think yoii might luid some
more suitable subject for discussion v/ith JMi-s. Gro\'e," said
Rose, mchgnantly. Aiihur laughed.

" You ought to be veiy thankful for the kind interest taken
in yoiu- welfare, and in Graeme's, too. I am sm-c Mr. Green
would be highly flattered if he could be aware of the sensation
he is creating among us."

" Mr. Green admires Graeme very much, he told mamma ;
and mamma says he would have proposed to her, when ho
was hero before, if it had not been for ]Mi', Ruthv(}n. You
know he ^vas very intimate here then, and every body said ho
and Graeme were engaged. Mamma says it was a gi-eat pity
he did not. It would have prevented the remarks of ill-
natured people when Mr. Buthven was married— about
Graeme, I mean."

"It is be hoped no one v.ill be ill-natured enougli to repeat
anything of that sort in Graeme's hearing," said Arthur, very
much aimoved.

"Oh! don't bo alarmed. Graeme is too well accustomed
by this time, to Mis. Grove's impertinences, to allow anything
she says to trouble her," said IIohq, with Hashing eyes.

400

JANKT ti LUVK AM) SERVICK.

Mrs. Show's liand wuh laid softly on that of tlio yonn^ jrirl,
wlio liail risen in licr iiidi^'iiaiion.

" Sit down, my dear," she wliisju^'od.

" Nonsi'uso, llosi(<," said li';r brotlujr ; "there is nothing' to
l)e vexed about. How can you bo so foolish? "

"Indeed," said Fanny, a litttlo frij^htcncd at Iho excito-
nu>nt she had raised, " niainiua didn't mean anythinjj that
yon would n't like. She only thought "

" We had bolter say nothing more about it," said Arthur,
interrn})iin<jf her. "I daro say Gi'aemo can nianapfo her own
alTairs without help from other people. But there is nothiufj
to be vexed about, Llosie. Don't jnit on a face like that about
it, you foolish lassi(\"

"What is the matter her(>, pjood people?" said Graenio,
onterini;^ at the momout. "AVhat arc you quarrelhuj^ about?
"What ails Kosie? "

"Oh! Mrs. (i rove has been givinj^f hor somo p^ood advieo,
•which she don't receive so meekly as sho might," said Arthur.

" That is very uni^rateful of you, Easie," said her sister.
Mrs. Grove's int(>rfercnco did n't seom a sufficient matter to
frown iibout.

" How is she now, my dear? " inquired Mrs. Snow, by way
of chans^'inpf the subject.

She was INIrs. Tilmnn, who had of late become subject to
sudden attacks of illness, " not danp^erous, but severe," as sho
herself declared. They had become rather frequent, but as
they <^euer:illy came on at night, and were over before morning-,
so that they tlid not specially interfere with her work, they
were not alarming to the rest of the household. Indeed, they
seldom heard of them till they were over ; for the considorato
Mrs. Tilman was wont to insist to Sarah, that the ladien sliould
not be disturbed on her account. But Sarah had become a
little uncomfi)rtable, and had confessed as much to Graeme,
and (Traemo desired to be told the next time she was ill, and
so it happened that she was not present when a subject so in-
teresting to herself was discussed.

^w.^

[

Janet's lovh ani> si;i:vi(;i;.

10 7

]n-

" Ih Mrs. Tiliiiau ill jv^'iiin? " a^^k(;(l Fanny. " lEow annoy-
in<^! Slio is not vory ill, I Iiopo."

" No,"' .said ( Jnu'iuc, qiiiiMly; "she will bo better to-niorio\v."

That nif^'iit, in tlio retirement of their d)anil)er, Mr. a.nl
I^[j-H. Snow w((ro in no liasto to begin, as was their custom, the
(ioniparing of notes over the events of tlie day. This was
usually the way when anytliiii^ Dot very pheasant had occiu*
red, or when anytl\ing luid been said that it was not a;^n-(!eablo
to recall. It was ]\Ir. Snow who bCf,'an the c()nv(;rsation.

" Well, what do you tliink of all that talk ?" asked lie, when
his wife sat down, after a rather protractcid putting,' away of
various articles in l)oxes and drawers.

"Oh! I think little of it — just what I have a3c thouf,dit —
that yon is a inoddUssome, short-sighted v/oinau. It is a pity
her daurfhtcr hasna the sense to see il."

"Oh ! I don't think the little thin^- meant any harm But
Rosie llared rij^dit Up, didn't she V "

"I shouldna wonder ])ut lu^r (fonscience told her there
was some tiiith in the accusation — a])out her love of admiriv
tion, I mean. But Mrs. Arthur is n(;t the one that should
throw stones at her for that, I'm thiukiuf^."

" But about Oreame 1 She Avill never many that man,
will she V"

"He'll never ask her," said]\Ii\s. Snow, shortly. "At least
I think he never will."

" Well, I don't know. It looked a little like it, last nij,'ht ;
and come to think of it, he talked a little like it, too."

" He is no' the man to ask any woman, till he is sm'e he
will not ask in vain. He may, but I dinna think it."

" Wt;ll, perhajis not. Of course, I ccnild see last ni^dit,
that it was all fixed, their beinj,' together. But I thouffht
she stood it pretty well, better than she would if she hatln't
liked it."

" Hoot, man ! She thouf^lit nothing about it. I ler thoughts
were far enough from him, and his likes, and dislikes," said
Mrs. Snow, with a sigh.

iH:

111 i*

tii §

408

Janet's love and service.

'• As a gcucral tbinj:^, gills are quick enough to find oufc
when a man cares for them, aud he showed it plainly to me.
I guess she mistrusts."

" No, a woman kens when a man has lost his heart to her.
He lets her see it in many ways, when he has no thought of
doing so. But a woman is not likely to know it, when a
man without love wishes to marry her, till he tells her in
words. And what heart has twenty years cheat'ry of his
fcillowmcn left to yon man, that my bauTi should waste a
thought on a worldhng like him ? "

i\Ir. Snow was silent. His wife's tone betrayed to him that
something was troubling her, or ho would have ventured a
wt)rd in his new friend's defence. Not that he was inclined
to plead ]Mr. Green's cause with Graeme, but he could not
help feeluig a little com2:)assion for him, and he said :

" Well, I suppose I feel inclined to take his part, because
he makes me think of what I was myself once, and that not
so long ago."

The look that j\Irs. Snow tmiied upon her husband was
one of indignant astonishment.

*' Like you ! You diy stick ! "

" Well, ain't he ? " You used to think me a pretty hard
case. Now, did n't you ? "

" I 'm no' going to tell you to-niglit what I used to think
of you," said liis wife, more mildl}-. I never saw you on the
day when you didna think more of other folks' comfort than
you thought of your own, and that couldna be said of him, this
many a year and day. He is not a fit mate for my baini."

" A^'ell — no, he ain't. He ain't a Christian, and that is the
fii'st thing she would consider. But he ain't satisfied with
himself, and if anybody in the world could bring him to
be what he ought to bo, ohe is the one." And he repeated
the couYcri-iation that had taken place when they were left
alone in the summer-house.

"•But being dissatisfied with himself, is very far from behig
a chang-ed man, and that work must be done? by a greater
than Graeme. And besides, if he were a changed man

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

) find out
i]y to me.

irt to her.
liouglit of
it, when a
Us her in
-'ry of his
I waste a

him that
'uturcd a

inclined
could not

because
that not

and was

ity hard

to think
Li on the
'ort than
bim, this
•airn."
at is the
Led with
him to
t'epeatcd
i'ere left

409

to-night, he is no' the man to win Miss Graeme's heart, and
he '11 no ask her. He is far more like to ask Rosic ; for I
doubt she is not l^ejond leachng him on for her own amuse-
ment."

"Oh ! Come now, ain't you a little too hard on Rosio," said
Mr. Snow, oxpostulatingly. He could not bear that his pet
should be found fault with. " I call that as cruel a thing as
a woman can do, and Rosie would never do it, I hope."

" Not with a conscious desire to give pain. But she is a
bonny creature, and she is leammg her own power, as they
all do sooner or later ; and few make so good a use of such
power as they might do ;" and :Mi-s. Snow sighed.

" You don't thmk there is anythmg in what Mrs. Grove
said about Graeme and her fiiend I have heard so much
about ? " asked Mr. Snow, after a pause.

" I duma ken. I would believe it none the readier that
yon foolish woman said it."

"She seems kmd of down, though, these days, don't she?
She's graver and quieter than she used to be," said m-. Snow,
with some hesitation. He was not sure how his remark
would be taken.

"Oh! well, maybe. She's older for one thmg," said his
wife, gravely. " And she has her cares ; some of them I see
plamly enough, and some of them, I daresav, she keeps out
of sight. But as for Allan Ruthven, it's not for one waman
to say of another, that she has given her heart imsoun-ht.
And I am sure of her, that whatever befalls her, she is one
of those that need fear no evil."

m beuig

greater

ed man

CHAPTER XXXV.

,4.: V ii

• • "l^T is a wonder to me, Miss Graeme," said IVIrs. Snow,
i after one of their long talks about old times — *' it is a
wonder U) me, that minding ISIerleville and all your friends
there as well as you do, you should never have thought it
worth your while to come bagk and see us."

" Worth our while ! " repeated Graeme. " It was not
indifference that hindered us, you may be sure of that. I
wonder, myself, how it is we have never gone back again.
When we first came here, how Will., and Bosie, and I, used
to plan and dream about it ! I may confess, now, how very
homesick we all were — how we longed for you. But, at first,
the expense would have been something to consider, you
know ; and afterwards, other things happened to prevent us.
Wo were very near going once or twice."

" jiVnd when was that ? " asked Mrs. Snow, seemingly intent
on her knitting, but all the time aware that the old shadow
was Hovering over Graeme. She did not answer immedi-
ately.

*'Once was with Norman and Hilda. Oh! I did so
long to go with them ! I had almost made up my mind to
go, and leave Rosie at home. I was glad I did n't, afterward."

" And why did you not ?" demanded her friend.

" For one thing, we . had been away a long time in the
summer, and I did not like to leave home again. Arthur did
not encourage me to go. It was on the very night that
Norman Mcnt away that Arthur told me of his engagement."

" I daresay you did right to bide at home, then."

"Yes, I knew it was best, but that did not prevent me
wishing very much to go. I had the greatest desire to go to
(410)

JANKT S LOVE AND PEIiVICK.

411

, Snow,
" it is a
Mends
light it

iiTas not
that. I
: again.

I, used
ow very

at first,
!er, you
eent us.

intent
shadow
immedi-

did so
oind to
rward."

in the
liur did
ht that
omcnt."

eat me
o go to

you. I had no one to speak to. I daresay it would not havo
scorned half so bad, if I could havo told you all about it."

"My dear, you had yom* sister."

" Yes, but Kosie was as bad as I was. It seemed like the
breaking up of all tliiii<jfs. I know now, how AVTong and
foolish I was, but I could not help being wretched then."

'• It was a gi'cat change, certainly, and I dinna wonder
that the prospect startled you."

Mrs. Snow spc^lce very quietly ; she was anxious to hear
more ; and forgetting her prudence in the pleasure it gave
her to unbui'dcn her heart to her friend, Graeme went on
rapidly,

" If it only had been any one else, I thought We didn't
know Fanny very well, then — hai'dly at all, indeed, and she
seemed such a vain, fiivolous httle thing, .so different fi'om
what I thought iViihur's wife should bo ; and I disliked her
stei)mother so much — more than I over disliked any one, I
think, except perhaps Mrs. Pago, when we first came to
Merleville. Do you mind her fust visit with Mi's. Merle,
Janet ?"

"I mind it well," said IMi'S. Snow, smihng. '*Sho was
no favorite of mine. I dai'csay I was too hard on her some-
times."

Graeme laughed at the remembrance of the " downset-
tings " which " the smith's wife " had experienced at Janet's
hands in those early days. The pause gave her time to think,
and she hastened to tuni the conversation from Arthur and
his mariiago to Merlo\ille and the old times. Janet did not
try to hinder it, and answered her questions, and volunteered
some new items on the theme, but when there came a pause,
she asked quietly,

" And when was the other time you thought of coming to
see us all ?"

" Oh ! that was before, in the spring. Arthur proposed
that we should go to Merleville, but we went to the seaside,
you know. It was on my account ; I was ill, and the doctor
said the sea-breeze was what I needed."

I i II

412

Janet's lovk and skrvice.

l^ft. i

" The breezes ainon;:^ our hills would liavo been as good for
you, I daresay. I wonder you (hdu't come tli(M)."

" Oh ! I could not bear the thoii;j[ht of goin^^ then. I was
ill, and — good for nothing. It would have l)een no pleasure
for any one to see me then. I think I should hardly have cared
to go away anywhere, if Ai'thui' had not insisted, and tho
doctor too."

Unconsciously (iraenie yielded to tho impulse to say to her
friend just what was in her heart.

" But what ailed you ?" asked Mrs. Snow, looking up with
astonished eyes, that reminded Graeme there were some
thmgs that could not be told even to her friend.

"What ailed you?" r^^peated jMi's. Snow.

" I c m't tell you. An attack of the nerves, Nelly caUod it,
and she was partly right. I was tilled. It was just after
Will.'s long illness, and Harry's going away, and other
thmgs."

"I daresay you were weary and sorrowful, too, and no
wonder," said Mrs. Snow, tenderly.

"Yes, about Hany. I was very anxious. There were
some doubts about his going, for a while. 'Mr. Euthven
hesitated, and Harry chafed and vexed himself and me, too,
poor laddie ; but we got through that time at last," added
Graeme, with a gi'cat sigh.

" Did IVIi*. Ruthven ken of HaiTy's temptation ? Was it for
that he hesitated ?" asked IVIi's. Snow.

" I cannot say. Oh ! yes, he knew, or he suspected. But
I don't think he hesitated altogether because of that. As soon
as he knew that we were quite wilUng — Aiihur and I — he de-
cided at once. Mr. Ruthven was very kind and considerate
tlu'ough it all."

" Miss Graeme, my dear," said Mrs. Snow, v.ith some hesita-
tion, " did you ever tliink there was anything between your
brother Harry and his master's daughter — the young lady
that Allan Ruthven married — or was it only Sandy's fancy ?"

Graeme's face grew whitQ as she turned her startled eyes
on her friend.

JANI-.T S LOVr. AND PERVICK.

413

"Sandy! Did lie sec it? I did not think about it :it tho
timo ; but al'tcrward I knew it, and, oh ! Janet, you ciinnot
think lio\A' it added to my ^Yret( hedness about Harry."

" Mv bairn! Thoro have boon some rou''h bits on then;ad
you have l)cen travellinj^. No wonder your feet got weary,
whik's."

(Jracnie rose, and, witliout spoakinri;, came and laid her head
ujion her friend's lap. In a little she said,

"How I lon^^'ed for this place ! I had no one to spiak
to. I used to think you might have helped and comforted
mo a little."

She did not try to hide her tears ; but they did not ll(jw
long. Janet's kind hand had not lost its old soothing powei',
and by and by Graeme raised herself up, and, wiping away
her tears, said, with a faint smile,

" And so Sandy saw poor Harry's secret ? I did not, at
first. I suppose httlo Emilj had sharpened his ejes to sec
such things, even then."

" Yes, Sandy saw it, and it was a gi'cat surprise to us all
when there came word of her maniage. Sandy nev* r
thought of Allan Euthven and his cousin coming Uy-
gether."

Graeme rose and took her work again. It was gi'owiiig
dark, and she carried it to the window and bent over it.

" Was it for her money — or v/hy was it ?"

" Oh ! no. I never could think so. She was a very sw i.'t
and lovely creature ; wo loved her dearly, Rose and I. They
had been engaged a long tune, I bcUeve, though the marriage
was sudden at last. That was because of her father's ilhiess.
He died soon after, you remember."

" Yes, I remember. Well, I didna thmk that iVllan Rnth-
ven was one to let tho world get a firm giip of him. But
folk change. I didna ken."

" Oh ! no, it was not that," said Grocmo, eagerly. Indeed,
at that time, Mr. Eljjhmstone's atfau's were ratlicr uivolvel
Ho had met with great Losses, Harry says, and Arthur
thought that nothing but ]\Ir. Rutliven'u high character and

/it'

m ^
'*'fi

;

414

jaxkt's lovk and skkvice.

f^reat business talents could have saved the firm from ruin.
Oh ! no ; it was not for money."

" Well, my dear, I am glad to hear you say it. I am glad
that Allan lluthven hasna changed. I thiiik you said he
hasna changed ?"

" At first I thought him changed, but afterwards I thought
him just the same."

" Maybe it was her that wanted the money ? If her father
was in trouble—"

" No, oh ! no ! You could never have such a thought if
you had ever seen her face. I don't know how it happened.
As all marriages happen, I suppose. It was vciy natural ; but
we won't speak about it."

" They seem to have forgotten their fi'iends. I think you
said you seldom see them now."

" We don't see them often. They have been out of town a
good deal, and we have fallen a little out of acquamtance.
But we have done that with many others ; we have made so
many new acquaintances since Arthm-'s marriage — friends of
Fanny's, you know ; and, somehow, nothing seems quite tho
same as it used to do. If Mr. Ruthven knew you were in
town, I am sui'C he v/ould have been to see you before
now."

" I am no' weaiyuig to see him," said IMrs. Snow, coldly.
" But, my dear, is your work of more value than your eyes, that
you are keeping at it in the dark ?"

Graeme laughed and laid it down, but did not leave the
window, and soon it grew so dark that she had no excuse for
lookinj^ out. So she began to move about the room, bus}-iug
herself with putting away her work, and the books and
papers that were scattered about. Janet watched her silently.
The shadow was dark on her face, and her movements, as
she displaced and arranged and rc-arrrauged the trifles on the
table were quick and restless. When there seemed nothing
more for hor to do, she stood still with nn inieasy look onln r
face, as though she thought her friend were watching her,
and then moved to the other end of the room.

ora ruin.

am glad
said ho

' thought

er father

3nght if
fij^pened.
iral ; but

link you

f to\Mi a
liiitance.
tiiado so
iciids of
uitc the
were in
before

cohlly.
OS, that

ive the
luso for
usying
|vs and
ilontly.
hits, as
Ion tho
ptliiiig
:)Illit r
her,

JANKT 8 LOVE AND BERVICK.

415

"My dear," said IVIrs. Suow, in a little, "how old are you
now ?"

Graeme laughed, and came and took her old scat

" 01) ! Janet, you must not ask. I have come to the point
when ladies don't hke to answer that question, as } ou might
very well know, if you would stop to consider a mmute."

" And what point may that be, if I may ask ?"

" Oh ! it is not to be told. Do you know Fanny begins to
shake her head over me, and to call me an old maid."

"Ay! that is aye the way with these young wives," said
Janet, scornfully. " There must be near ten yeai's between
you and Rose."

"Yes, quite ten yeai's, and she is almost a woman — past
sixteen. I am gi'owing old."

" What a wee white Rose she was, when she fii-st fell to voiur
care, dear. AMio would have thought then that she would
ever have gi'own to be the bonny creatui'e she is today ?"

"Is she not lovely? And not vain or spoiled, though it
would be no wonder if f-he were, she is so much admncd.
Do you mind what a cankered wee fauy she used to
be?"

" I mind well the patience that never w(?aried of her, even
at the worst of times," said ^Mrs. Suow, laj-ing her hand
tenderly on Graeme's bowed head.

" I was weary and impatient often. Wliat a long time it is
since those days, and }et it seems like yesterday." And
Graeme sighed.

" Were you sighing because so many of your years ho bc-
lund you, my bairn ?" said Mrs. Snow, softly.

"No, rather because so many of th ..' lie before me," said
Graeme, slowly. "Unless, indeed, tlicy may have more to
show than the j'cars that are past."

" W^e may all sry that, dear," said INIra. Snow, gravely.
"None of us have done all that we might have done. But,
my bairn, such (hT'tiiy words are not natural from young
lips, and the years before yon may be few. You may not
have time to grow wcai'y of them."

I I

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inffi'^'i

MnF''^''1

"■

i^9K''''i^fl

,1^

W W .Ifl

,»

irlniiiiy

.!■

;'i'

1 : Iv

416

JANET S LOVE AND SEri\ICE.

" That is true," said Graeme. " And I ought not to gi'ow
^veary, be they many or few."

There was a long pause, broken at last by (iraciuc.

"Janet," said she, "do you think I could keep a school? "

" A school," repeated Mrs. Snow. " Oh, aye I daresay j-ou
could, if you put your mind to '^. What would Ijirxder you ?
It would depend some on what kind of u school it was, too,
I daresay."

" You know, teaching is almost the only tlimg a woman
can do to eani a livehhood. It is the only thing I could do.
I don't mean that I could take charge of a school ; I am afi'aid
I am hardly fit for that. But I could teach classes. I know
French well, and music, and Gorman a httle."

" My dear," said Mrs. Snow, gravely, " Avliat has put such
a thought in your head ? Have you spoken to yoiu' brothci'
about it ? What does he say ? "

" To Arthur ? No, I have n't spoken to him. He would n *o
like the idea at first, I suppose ; but if it were best, he would
reconcile liimseK to it in tune."

•' You speak about getting yoiu' Hvelihood. Is there any
need for it? I mean, is there more need than there has
been ? Is not your brother able, and willing "

" Oh ! yes, it is not that. I don't know. Our expenses
are greater than they used to be — double, indeed. But there
is enough, I suppose. It is not that — at least it is nut that
only, or chiefly."

" What is it then, dear child ? " asked her friend.

But Graeme could not answer at the moment. There
were many reasons why she should not continue to live her
present unsatisfjing life, and yet she did not know how to
tell her friend. They were all plain enough to her, but some
of thorn she could not put in words for tho hearing of Janet,
even. She had been saying to herself, all along, that it was
natural, and not wrong for hor to grow tired of hor useless,
aimless life, and to long for earnest, brachig work ; such as
many a woman she could name was toiling bravely at. But
v/ith Janet's kind hand on her heafl, and her calm, clear eyes

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

417

t to gi-ow

school?"
rosay you
Aov you ?
; was, too,

a woman

could do.

am afraid

. I know

put such
lu* brother

) wouldn't
;, he would

there any
there has

expciiscs

3ut there

not that

There
to live her
3W how to

but some

of Janet,
that it was
>v uselt'S?},

; such as
y at. But

dear eves

looking down upon her face, she was constrained to aclcnow-
ledge that, but for one thiuj^, this restless discontent mifrht
never have found her. To herself she was williiif( to confess
it. Lonj^ ago she had looked her sonvnv in the face, and
said, "With God's help I can bear it." She declared to her-
self that it was well to be roused from sloth, even by a great
son'ow, so that she could find work to do. But, that Janet
should look upon her with pitying or reproving eyus, she
could not bear to think ; '-"o she sat at her feet, having no
power to open her lips, never thinking that by her silence,
and by the unquiet hght in her downcast eyes, more was
revealed to her faithful old friend than spoken words could
have tcld.

" "VNTiat is it my dear ? " said Mrs. Snow. " Is it pride or
discontent, or is it somethuig worse ? "

Graeme laughed a little bitterly.

*' Can anything be worse than these ? "

" Is it that vour brother is wearying of vou ? "

"No, no! I could not do him the wrong to think that.
It would grieve him to lose us, I know. Even when he
thought it was for my happiness to go away, the thought of
partmg gave him pain."

" And you have more sense than to let the airs and non-
sense of his baiiTi-wife vex you ? "

Graeme was silent a moment. She did not care to enter
upon the subject of Arthm-'s wife just at this time.

" I don't think you quite understand Fanny, Janet," said
she, hesitating.

""SVeel, dear, maybe no. The banns that I have had to
deal with have not been of her kind. I have had no ex-
perieDoe of the like of her."

" But what I mean is that her faults are such as every one
can see at a glance, and she has many sweet and lovable
qualities. I love her dearly. iVnd, Janet, I don't tliink it is
quite kind in you to think that I giiidgo Fanny her proper
place in her own house. I only wish that "

** You only wish that she were at" able to fill it with credit,
18*

L> i

418

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

,'■'11; i

V i

as you are willing to let her. I wish that, too. And I am
very far from thinkmg that you grudge her anything that
she ought to have."

" Oh ! Janet," said Graeme, with a sigh, " I shall never be
able to mate you understand."

" You might try, however. You havona tried yet," said
Janet, gently. " It is not that you are growing too proud to
eat bread oi your brother's winning, is it ? "

"I don'i; think it is pride. I know that Arthur considers
that what belongs to him belongs to us all. But, even when
that is true, it may be better, for many reasons, that I should
eat bread of my own winning than of his. Everybody has
Bometl ivg to do in the wox'ld. Even rich ladies have their
houses L 1, and their famiUes to care for, and the claims
of sociiitj b ^tisfy, and all that. An ilUe life like mine is
not natural nor right. No wonder that I weary of it I
ought not to be idle."

*' Idle ! I should lay that imputation at the door of any-
body in the house rather than at yoiu'S. You used to be
over fond of idle di'eaming, but I see none of it now. You
are aye busy at something."

"YeS; busy about something," repeated Graeme, a httle
scornfully. "But about things that might as well be
left undone, or that another might do as well."

" And I daresay some one could be foimd to do the work
of the best and the busiest of us, if we werena able to do it.
But that is no' to say but we may be working to some pur-
pose in the world for all that. But it is no' agreeable to do
other folks' work, aud let them get the wages, I '11 allow."

"WiU. said somethuig like that to me once, and it is
possible that I may have some despicable feeling of that soii;,
since you and ho seem to think it," said Graeme, and her
voice took a grieved and desponding tone.

" My dear, I am bringing no such accusation against you.
I am only sajdng that the hke of that is not agreeable, and
it is not profitable to anybody concerned. I daresay ]VIrs.
Arthur fancies that it is her, and no' you that keeps the

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

419

house ill a state of perfection that it is a pleasure to see.
She p(>rsna(les her husband of it, at any rate,"

" Fanny Joes not mean — she does not know much about
it. But that is one more reason why I ought to go. She
ought to have the responsiljihty, as well as to fancy that she
has it ; and they would got used to being without us in time."'

" Miss Graeme, my dear, I think I must have told you
/ "what your father said to me after his first attack of illness,

when ho thought, ma^ be, the end wasna far awav."

" About our all staging together while we could. Yes, you
told me."

"Yes, love, and how he trvsted in you, that you would
/ always be, to yom* brothers and Rose, all that your mother

would have been if she had been spared ; and how siu-o he
was that you would ever think less of yourself than of them.
My dear, it should not be a hght thing that would make you
give \\\) the tmst your father left to you."

" But, Janet, it is so chfferent now. "Wlicn we first came
here, the thought that my father wished ils to keep together
made me ^villiug and glad to stay even when Arthur had to
stnigglc hard to make the ends meet. I knew it was better
for him and for Harry, as well as for us. But it is different
now. Artlnu' has no need of us, and would soon content
himself without u,s, though he may tjiink he would not ; and
it may be years before tliis can Ije Will.'s home again. It
may never be his home, nor HaiTy's either."

" My dear, it will be Hariy's home, and Will.'s, too, while
it is yours. Then- hearts will aye turn to it as homo, and
they woiddna do so if you were only coming and going.
And as for Mr. Arthur, Miss CJraemc, I put it to yourself,
if he were loft alone with that bonny wee wife of his, would
his home be to him \\\v\i it is now ? AVould the companion-
ship of yon baim sutlice for his hapi)iness':'"

"It ought to do so. A man's wife ought to bo to luiu
more than all the rest of the world, when it is written, ' A
man shall lea^e all, and cleave to his wife.' Married people
ought to sufiico for one another."

k I

420

JANKT S I.OVK AND BERVICE.

;>! ;•!

It \

ifll

" Well, it may bo. And if you were leaving;- your brother's
house for a bouse of your own, or if you were cominf^ with
us, as iny husband S(.'ems to have set his heart on, I would
think it different. Not that I am sure of it myself, much as
it would delight me to have you. For your brother iiceds
you, and your bonny new sister needs you. Have patience
with her, and with yourself, and you will make something of
her in time. She loves you deai*ly, though she is not at all
times very considerate of you."

Graeme was silent. AVhat could she say after this, to prove
that she could not stay, that she must go away. WTiere
could she turn now ? She rose with a sigh.

" It is growing dark. I will get a light. But, Janet, you
must let me say one tliuig. You are not to think it is be-
cause of Fanny that I want to go away. At first, I was un-
happy — I may say so, now that it is all over. It was less for
m}se]i and Eose than for Arthur. I didn't think Fanny
good enough for him. And then, everything was so differ-
ent, ii ' &- vhilo it seemed impossible for me to stay. Fanny
was not so considerate as she might have been, about our old
friends, and about household affairs, and about Nelly, and
all that. Arthur saw^ nothing, and Rosie got vexed some-
times. Will, preached patience to us both; you know, gen-
tlemen camiot understand many tilings that may be vexa-
tious to us ; and we were very uncomfortable for a while. I
don't think Fanny was so much to blame; but her mother
seemed to fancy that the new mistress of the house was not
to be allowed to have hor place' without a struggle. ^\j-thur
saw nothing wrong. It was laughable, and u-ritating, too,
sometimes, to see how blind he was. But it was far better
he tlid not. I can see that now."

" W^ell, we went on iv this way a while. I daresay a good
deal of it was my faidt. I think I was patient and forbear-
ing, and I am quite sure I gave Faiuiy her own place from
the very first. But I was not cheerful, partly because of the
changes, and all those httlo things, and piu-tly for other rea-
sons. And I am not demonstrative in my friendliness, like

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

421

ar brother's
■orniDf,' Avitli
on, I would
'If, much as
>thcr ticeds
vc patience
mething of
is uot at all

lis, to prove
ly. WTiere

Janet, you
ink it is be-
;, I was un-
was less for
ink Fanny
3 so diifer-
y. Fanny
)ut our old
Nelly, and
)xed some-
cnow, gen-
be vexa-
whtle. I
er mother
was not
Ai-thur
iting, too,
far better

ly a good
I forbcar-
aco from
se of the
;her rca-
tiess, like

Rosie, you know. Fanny soon came to be quite frank and
nice with llosie, and, by and by, with me too. And now,
everything grjcs on just as it ought with us. Tluro is no
coldness between us, and you raust not think there is, or that
it is because of Fanny I raust go away."

She paused, and began to aiTang i the lamp.

"Never mind the hght, dear, imless yoiu" work canna be
left," said ]\Ii*s. Snow ; and in a little Graeme came and sat
dovni again.

" And about Fanny's not being good enough for Arthur,"
she went on. "If people really love one another, other
tilings don't seem to make so much diirercnce. Arthur is con-
tented. And Janet, I don't think I am altogether selfish in
my wish to go away. It is not entii-ely for my own sake, I
think it would bo better for them both to be left to each
other for a httlo while. If Fanny has faults, it is better
that Arthur should know them for the sake of both — that ho
may learn to have patience with them, and that she may
learn to correct them. It is _ (artly for them, as well as for
Hose and me. For myself, I must have a change."

" You didna use to wearv for changes. What is the rea-
son now ? You may tell me, dear, sm'ely. There can be no
reason that I may not know V"

Janet spoke softly, and laid her hand lovingly on that of
Graeme.

" Oh ! I don't laiow. I cannot tell you," she ciied, with a
sudden movement away from her friend. " The very spirit
of um'ost seems to have gotten possession of mo. I am tired
doing nothing, I suppose. I want real earnest work to do,
and have it I will."' She rose hastily, but sat down again.

" xVnd so you thmk you would like to keep a school V" said
Mrs. Snow, quietly.

" Oh ! I don't know. I only said that, becaiisc I did not
know what else I could do. It would bo work."

"Ay. School-keeping is said to be hard work, and thank-
less, often. And I daresay it is no Ijetter than it is called.
But, my dear, if it is the work you want, and not the wages,

r I

422

Janet's love and sEimcE.

if'l

1.H

pfi.

1.^^

;'y

Huroly amonf^ tlio, tliousiiiulH of this p^roat town, you nii^ht
lind aomi'thinj^ to do, sonui work for the Lord, and for his
people. Have you never thouglit about working in that way
dear V"

(Iraeme had thought of it many a time. Of ten had she
giicvedovor tlic neglected little ones, looking out upon her
from narrow lan(>s and alleys, with pale faces, and great
liungry eyes. Often had the fainting hearts of toilers in tlie
WTetched placcK of the city been sustained and comforted by •
her kind words and her alms-deeds. There were many hum-
ble dwellings within sight of her home, where her face came
like sunlight, and her voice like music. But these were
the pleasures of her life, enjoyed in secret. This was not the
work that was to make her life worthy, the work for God
and man that was to fill the void in her life, and still the
pain in her heart. So she only said, quietly,

" It is not nmch that one can do. And, indeed, I have lit-
tle time that is not occupied with sometliing that cannot be
neglected, though it can hardly be called work. I cannot tell
you, but what with the littlt; things to be cared for at home,
the visits to be made, and engagements of one kind or other,
httlo time is left. I don't know how I could make it other-
wise. My time is not at my own disjiosal."

Mrs. Snow assented, and Graeme went on.

" I suppose I might do more of that sort of work — carizig
for poor people, I mean, by joining societies, and getting my-
self put on committees, and all that sort of thing, but I don't
tliink I am suited for it, and there are plenty who lilce it.
However, 1 daresay, that is a mere excuse. Don't you mind,
Janet, how IMi's. Page used to labor with me about the sewing
meetings."

" Yes, I mind," said Mrs. Snow, with the air of one who
was tlunkhig of something else. In a little she said, hesita-
tingly :

" Miss Graeme, my dear, you speak as though there were
nothing between living in your brother's house, and keeping

Janet's lovi: and bervice.

423

a school. Have you never gliuiccMl at the possihility that
sc^metiinc you may have a house of your (^wn to ko(»p."

(Iraenio laujjfhetl.

" Will, said that to mo once. Yea, I have thought about it.
But the possihility is such a Rli<ifht one, that it is hardly ^vorth
while to take it into account in makhiff plans for the futiu'o."

"And wherefore not ?" demanded jNIrs. Snow.

" Wherefore not ?" echoed Graeme. " I can only say, that
hero lam at six and twenty; and the proloabilities as to mar-
riage don't usually increase with the years, after that. Fan-
ny's fears on my account luive some foundation. Janet, do
you mind the song foolish Jeaii used to sing ?

* The lads that cast a gUinco at mo

I dinna care to bgo,
And tho hids that I would look at

Winini look at mo.'

" W'ell, dear, you mustna bo angiy though I say it, but
you may bo ower ill to please. I told you that before, you '11
mind."

" Oh ! yes, I mind. But I convinced you of your error.
Indeed, I look upon myself as an object for commiseration
rather than blame ; so you mustna look cross, and you
mustna look too pitiful either, for I am going to prove to
you and Fanny and all the rest that an old maid is, by no
means, an object of pity. Quito the contraiy."

" But, my dear, it seems strange-like, and not quite right
for you to be setting your face against what is plainly or-
dained as woman's lot. It is no' aye an easy or a pleasant
one, as many a poor woman kens to her sorrow ; but "

" But, Janet, you are mistaken. I am not setting my face
against anything ; but why should you blame me for what I
canna help ? And, besides, it is not ordained that every
woman should marry. They say mamed life is hai^pior, and
all that ; but a woman may be happy and useful, too, in a
single life, even if the liigher happiness be denied her."

i t

424

JAXKTS LOVE AXD SEItVICK.

■!i

• »

" But, my dear, what ailotl yon at him you sent away tho
othor woc'k — him that I^)sio was tcUin;^ mo ofV "

" U'>sio had httlo to do tclliii},'' you aiiythin-,' of the kind.
Nothing' particular ailed luc at him. I liked him very I'dl
till . But we won't speak of it."

" Was he not {,food enough ? He was a Cliristian man,
and well off, and well-looking. What said yoiu' brother to
your refusal ? " persisted Janet.

" Oh ! he said notliing. "What could he say ? He would
liave known nothing about it if I had had my will. A woman
must decide these things for herself. I did what I thought
right. I coidd not have done otherwise."

" But, mv love, vou should consider "

" Janet, I did consider. I considered so long that I came
very near doing a wrong thuig. Because he was Arthur's
fi-iend, and because it seems to bo woman's lot, and in the
common course of things, and because I was restless and
discontented, and not at peace with myself, and nothing
seemed to matter to me, I was very near saying * Yes,' and
going with him, though I cared no more for him than for
half a dozen others whom you have seen here. AVhat do you
think of that for consideration ? "

" That would have been a great wrong both to him and
to yourself. I canna think you would ever be so sinful as
to give the hand where the heart is withheld. But, my dear,
you might mistate. ITiere are more kinds of love than
one ; at least there are many manifestations of true love ;
and, at yom* age, you are no' to expect to have your heart
and fancy taken utterly captive by any man. You have too
nnich sen.se for the hke of that."

" Have I ? " said Graeme. " I ought to have at my age."

It was gi'o\ving quite dark — too dark for Mrs. Snow to see
Graeme's troubled face ; but she knew that it was troubled
by the sound of her voice, by the weary postui'e into which
she di'Otjped, and by mary another token.

" My dear," said her friend, earnestly, " the wild carrying
away of the fancy, that it is growing the fashion to call love,

JANKT S LOVE AM) SKKVICK.

425

is not to be clcsircd at any afrc. I am not (l('nviii2: that it
comes in youth uith ^rciit power aiul swcetncsH, as it oaine
to vour father and mother, as I miml well, and as vou liiive
heard yourself. Bat it docsna always brin^ happiness. The
Lord is kind, and cares for those who rush blindly to tlicir
fate ; but to many a one such wild captivity of heart is but
the forerunner of Ijitter pain, for which there is no help but
just to * thole it,' as they say."

Sho paused a moment, but Graeme chd not, by the move-
ment of a linger, indicate that she had anything to say in
reply.

" ]\Iutual respect, and the quiet esteem that one friend
gives to another who is worthy, is a far surer foundation for
a hfotime of happiness to those who have the fear of God
before their eyes, and it is just possible, my dear, that you
may lin^'o been mistaken."

" It is just possible, and it is too late now, you see, Janet.
But I '11 keep all you have been saying hi mind, and it may
stand me in stead for another time, you ken."

She spoke lightly, but there was ui her voice an echo of
bitterness and pain that her friend could ncjt bear to hear ;
and when she raised herself uj) to go away, as though there
were nothing more to bo said, Janet laid her hand lightly
but firmly on her shoulder, and said,

'• My dear, you are not to be vexed with what I have said.
Do you think I can have any wish but to see }-ou useful and
happy ? You surely dinna doubt me, dear ? "

" I am not vexed, Janet," said she. " And who could I
tnist if I doubted you ? "

" And you are not to tliink that I am meaning any disre-
spect to youi' new sister, if I say it is no wonder tlisit I dinna
find you quite content here. And when I tliir. !. >•' the home
that your mother made so happy, I eanna but wish to see
you in a home of your own."

" But happiness is not ^ ae only thing to be desired in this
world," (iraeme forced herself to say.

" No, love, nor the chief thing — that is true," said I^fi s. Snow.

42<]

JANKTS LOVi: AND SIIRVICK.

1.1,

" And even if it were," continued Graeme, " there is more
tliiin one way to look for hiipj^ine.ss. It Kerins to mo tho
duuu'es of hapi>ine.ss are not ho unequal in single and mar-
ried life as is generally supposed."

" You niayna bo tho best judge of that," said Mrs. Snow,
gi'avely.

*' No, I suiipose not," said Graeme, with a laugh. " But I
have no patienec with the nonsenso that is talked a) * old
maids. AVhy ! it seems to bo thought if a woman .Aica
thirty, still single, she has failed in hfe, she has missed tho
end of her creation, as it were ; and by and by people begin
to look upon her as an objeet of pity, not to say of contempt.
In this very room I have heard shallow men and women
speak in that way of some who are doing a worthy work for
God and man in the world."

" My dear, it is the way with shallow men and women to
put things in the wrong places. Why should you be sur-
prised at that ? "

" But, Janet, more do it than these people. Don't you
mmd, the other day, when Mrs. Grove was repeating ^hat
absurd story about Miss Lester, and I said to her tlia id
not believe IMLss Lester would marry the best man vi± urn
face of the earth, yon said in a wa}' that turned the laugh
against me, that you doubted the best man on the face of
the earth wasna in her offer."

" But, Miss Graeme, I meant no reflection on your friend,
though I said that. I saw by the shining of your eyes, and
the color on your cheek, that you were in earnest, and I
thought it a pity to waste good earnest words on yon shallow
woman."

"Well," said Graeme, with a long breath, "you left the
impression op her mind that you thought her right and mo

wr(jng.

" That is but a small matter. And, my dear, I am no'
sure, and you canna be sure either, that Mrs. (irovo was
altogether wrong. If, iu her }Outh, some good man — not to

.isatii

tlicro is more
ns to mo tho
<j;lo and mar-

tl Mrs. Snow,

igh. " But I
;ed a) ■•*■ okl
»nian .i;lics
,s missed tlio
people bcfjin
of contcmi>t.
and women
thy work for

id women to
you be sur-

Don't you '
)eatinnr *^hat
r tha id
nan vi± me
II the laugh
the face of

-our friend,
eyes, and
lest, and I
[on shallow

)u loft the
fit and mo

1 1 am no'
irove was
In — not to

JANKTS LOVE AND SKKVrci:.

4i>7

Fay the l)cst man on tho face of tho earth — had oft' red love
to your friend, are voti sure she would have refused him ?"

"Tliero I — that is just what I dislike so nuic-li. 'I'hat is just
"wliat ^Irs. Orovc was hintinj,' with roj^'ard to ^liss Lesti r.
If a woman lives sinj^lo, it is from necessity — iiccordiii^ to
the jud^^'mcnt of a discriminating and charitaMn world. T '
knmr that is not the case with regard to Miss Lester. ]5ut
even if it ^\ere, if no man had ever gi'aciou. ly signilic.'d his
approbation of her — if she were an old maid from dire neces-
sity — docs it follow that slie has lost her chance in life? — that
life has been to her a failure ?

"If she has failed in life ; so do God's angels, Janet, if I
could only tell you half that she has done ! I am not ii)timate
with her, but I have many ways of knowing about her. If
you could know all that she has done for her family ! She
was the eldest daughter, and her mother was a very delicate,
nervous woman, and tho charge of tlie yomiger children fell
to her when she was rpiite a girl. Then when her fatlier
failed, she opened a school, and the whole family depended
on her. She helped her sisters till they mameil, and liber-
ally educated her younger brothers, and now she is bringing
up the four childi'on of one of them who died young. Her
father was bedridden for several \-ears 1 )efore he died, and ho
lived in her home, and she watched over him, and cared for
him, though she had her school. And she has prepared
many a young girl for a life of usefuhiess, who but for her
might have been neglccitod or lost. Half of the good she has
done iri this way will never be known on earth. And to hear
women who are not worthy to tie her shoe, passing their pa-
tronizing or theii* disparaging remarks upon her ! It in-
censes me !"

*' My dear, I thought you were past being incensed at any-
thing yon shallow woman can say."

" But she is not the onl}' one. Even Arthur .soinctiiues
provokes me. Because she has by her laborious profession
made herself independent, he jestingly talks about her bank

'•

III

428

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

Hiodk, and about licr being a good spGciilation for .some needy
old goatlcnian. And because that beautiful, soft gi'cy haii*
of lu i\s will ciu'l about her pale face, it is hinted that sho
niakos the most of her remaining attractions, and -would be
nothing loth. It is de.spicable."

" Bui, my dear, it would be no discredit to her if it were
proved that slie would many. She has a young face yet,
thongli her hair is gi*ey, and she may have many years before
her. Why should she not marry ?"

" Don't speak of it," said Graeme, with gi-eat impatience ;
" and yet, as you say, why should sho not ? But that is not
the question. "What I declare is, tljat her single life has been
an honoi'able and an honored one — and a happy one too.
Who can doubt it ? There is no nianicd woman of my ac-
quaintance whose life will compare with hers. And the higli
place she will get in heaven, will bo for no work she will do
as 'Sim. Dale, though she were to marrv the Reverend Doctor
to-m'ght, but for the blessed success that God has given her
in her \Aork as a single woman."

" I believe you, dear," said ^L*s. Snow, wannly.

" And she is not the only one I could name," C(mtinued
Graeme. " She is my favorite example, because her position
and talents, her earnest nature and her piety, make her work
a wonderful one. But I know many, and have heard of
more, who in a quiet, unobtrusive way are doing a work, not
so great as to results, but as true and holy. Soine of them
are douig it as aunts or maiden sisters ; some as teachers ;
some are only humble needlewomen ; some are servants in
other people's kitchens or nurseries — women who would be
spoken of l)y the pitying or slighting name of ' old maid,' wlio
are yet more worthy of respect for the work they are doi.ag,
and for the inlluence they arc exerting, than many a mar-
rii'd woman in hor sph.cre. ^^^ly should such a woman ))o
piiied or despised, I wonder ?"

"Miss tiiraeme, you look as though you thought I was
among ihti pitiers and despisers of such women, and you arc
Avrong. Every word you say in their praise and honor is

11 1'i

31' some needy
soft gi'cy hail'
iiitccl that she
and -would bo

her if it were
Diiiig face yet,
y years before

t impatience ;
[\t that is not
! life has been
ippy one too.
lan of my ac-
And the high
fk she will do
ereud Doctor
has given her

," continued

her position

ike her work

re heard of

a work, not

)me of them

as teachers ;

servants in

lo would be

maid,' wJio

' are d(ji;ig,

umy a mar-

WOlUa!! 1)0

ight I was
bid you are
lid honor is

Janet's love

AND SERVICE.

42t)

truth, and

caniia be gainsaid.

But that doesna

prove what

you began

wit

h, that the chances of happiness

in married

and single life

are equal."

" It goes

far

to prove it — the chances of usefulness,

at any

rate."

" No, my dear, because I dai'o say, on the other hand,
many could be told of who fail to do their work in single life,
and who fail to get happiness in it as well. Put the one class
over against the other, and then consider the many, many
women who mari-y for no other reason than fi'om the fear of
li^ing single, it will go far to account for the many unhappy
marriages that wo see, and far to prove that marriage is the
natiu'al and proper expctation of woman, and that in a sense
she ihf'H fail in life, who falls shoi*t of that. In a certain
sense, I say."

" But it docs not follow from that that she is thenc(^forth
to be an object of pity or derision, a spectacle to men and
angels !"

" "SMiist, my dear ; no, that doesna follow of necessity.
That depends on herself somewhat, though not altogothev,
and there; are too many single women who makt> spectacles
of themselves in one way or other. But, my dear, what I say
is this : As the world is, it is no easy thing for a woman to
warstle through it alone, and tlie help she needs she can get
better from her husband than from any other friend. And
though it is a single woman's duty to take her lot and make
the best of it, with God's help, it is no' to I5e denied, that it is
not the lot a woman would c.ioose. IMy saving it doesna
make it true, but ask you the women to whom you justly
give so high a place, hoAv it was with them. "Was it their
own fi'ee choice that put them where they are 'i If tluy spetik
the tnith, they will say 'No.' Either no man asked them —
though that is rare — or else in youth they hav(; had their
work laid ready to th('ir hands. Tliev had a fatlier and
mother, or brothers and sisters, that tluy could not forstike
for a stranger. Or they gave their love unsought, and had
none to give when it was asked. Or they fell out with their

liMi f

430

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

'i I

til .(■

lovers, or another wiled them away, or death divided them.
Sometimes a woman'H life passes quietly and busily away,
with no thoughts of the future, till one day she wakes up with
a great start of surprise and pain, to the knowledge that her
youth is past — that she is an ' old maid.' And if a chance
oflfer comes then, ten to one but she shuts her eyes, and lays
hold on the hand that is held out to her — so feared is she of
the solitary life before her."

" And," said Graeme, in a low voice, " God is good to her
if she has not a sadder wakening soon."

" It is possible, my dear, but ^i proves the truth of what I
was saying, all the same ; that it is sekh jy a woman's free
choice that she finds herself alone in life. Sometimes, but not
often, a woman sits down and counts the cost, and chooses
a solitary path. It is not every wise man that can discern a
strong and beautiful spirit, if it has its home in an unlovely
form, and many such are passed by with a slighting look, or
are never seen at all. It is possible that such a woman may
have the sense to see, that a sohtary life is happmess com-
pared with the pam and shame a true woman must feel in
ha\ang to look down upon her husband ; and so when the
wise and the wortlij' pass by, she turns her eyes from all
others, and says to herself and to the world, with wliat heart
she may, that she has no need of help. But does that end
the pain ? Does it make her strong to say it ? May not the
sh'ght implied in being overlooked rankle in her heart till it
is changed an<.l liardened? I am afraid the many single
women we see and hear of, who hve to themselves, giving no
sympath}' and seeking none, proves it past all denying. 'My
dear, folk may say what they like about w jman's sphere and
woman's mission — and great nonsense they have spoken of
late — but every true woman kens well that her liglit sphere
is a homo of her own, and that her mission is to find her
happiness in the happiness of her husband and chilch'en.
There are exceptional cascn, do doubt, but that is the law of
nature. Though why I should be saying all this to you, IMiss
Graeme, my dear, is mair than I ken.''

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

431

divided them.
I busily away,
wakes up with
ilf ug-e that her
hI if a chance
ojes, and Lavs
iared is she of

is good to lier

ith of what I
woman's fi-ee
times, but not
, and chooses
can discern a
I an unlovely
tting look, or

wonjan may
^ipmcss corn-
must feel in
so when the

es from all

what heart
)es that end

!\v not the

leart till it

!iny single

giving no

Lving. My

pherc and

spoken of

lit sphere

o find her

chilth'en.

ho law of

you, Bliss

There was a long silence after this. Mrs. Snow knew well
that Graeme sat without reply because she would not have
the conversation come back to her, or to home affairs, again.
Bu b.er friend had somctliingniore to say, and though hor heart
ached for the paui she might give, she could not leave it unsaid,

" We were speakmg about your friend and tlie work she
has been honored to do. It is a great work, and she is a
noble woman. God bless her ! And, dear, though I dinna
like the thought of your leaving your brother's house, it is not
because I dinna think that you might put your hand to the
same work with the same success. I am sure vou could do,
in that way, a good work fer God and man. It is partly that
I am shy of new schemes, and partly because I am sure the
restlessness that is urging you to it will pass away ; but it is
chieflv because I think you have good and holv work laid to
your hand already. Whatever you moy think now, dear,
they are far better and happier here at home, and will be all
their lives, because of j'ou.

"I'm no' sajnng but you might go away for a wee while.
The change would do you good. You will come with us, or
you will follow after, if you like it bottci ; and then you
might take your sister, and go and sec your brother Nonnan,
and your wee nephew, as we spoke of the other day. But
this is your home, love, and here lies jom* work, believe me.
And, my bairn, the restless fever of your heart will pass
away ; not so soon, maybe, as if it had come upon you
earlier in life, or as if you were of a lighter nature. But it
will pass. Whist! my darling," for Graeme had risen with
a ge^iture of entreaty or denial. " "Wliist, love. I am not
askmg about its coming or its causes. I am only bidding
you have patience till it pass away."

Graeme sat down again without a word. They sat a long
time quite silent, and when Graeme spoke, it was to wonder
that Arthur and the others were not come home.

"They must have gone to the lecture, after all, but that
must be over by this time. They will be as liuugiy as liawks.
I must go and speak to Sarah."

432

JANET a LOVE AND SERVICE.

i •:.

And she went away, s.ayin;:^ sadly and a little bitterly to
herself, tliat the I'rioiid on whose kinduesH and counsel she
had relied, had failed her in her time of need. *

" lint I niiLst go all the same. I cannot stay to die by slow
degi'ccs, of sloth, or weariness, or tliscontent, whichever it may
be. Oh me ! And I thought the Avorst was past, and Janet
says it will never be quite past, till I am gi'own old."

And Janet sat with reverent, half-averted eyes, seeing the
son'ow, that in trying to hide, the child of lier love had so
plainly revealed. She knew tliat words arc j)owerless to help
the soreness of such wounds, and yet she chid herself that
she had so failed to comfort heii She knew that Graeme
had come to her in the vague hope for help and counsel, and
that she w as saving now to herself that her friend had failed
her.

" For, what could I say ? I couldna bid her go. ■\Vhat
good would that do, when she carries her care ^^'ith her?
iVnd it is not for the like of her to vex her heart out with
bau'ns, keeping at a school. I ken her better than she kens
herself. Oh ! but it is sad to think that the best comfort I can
give her, is to look the other way, and not seem to see.
"Well, there is One she winna seek to hide her trouble from,
and He can comfort her."

^(^SWWT^Wl

e bitterly to
I counsel she

(lie by slow
[•hover it may
st, and Janet
old."

}s, seeing the

love bad so

Li'lcss to heli3

1 herself that
that Graeme

counsel, and
!nd had failed

Dr go. What
re with her?
icart out with
ban she kens
comfort I can
seem to see.
I'ouble from,

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE only event of unportance that occurred before IHi's.
Snow went av.ay, was the return of Nelly. She camo
in ui^on them one morning, as they sat together in the break-
fast room, with more shamefacedness than could be easily ac-
counted for at the fii'st moment. And then she told them
she was mairied. Her sudden departure had been the means
of bringing Mr. Stirling to a knowledge of his own mind on
the matter of wedlock, and he had followed her to her Mister's,
and " married her out of hand." Of com'so, she was projDcrly
congi'atulated by them all, but Eosc was inclined to be indig-
nant. '

" You promised that I was to be bridesmaid, and I think
it is quite too bad that you should disappoint me," said shef

" Yes, I know I promised, but it was with a long prosjiect
of waiting. I thought your own turn might come first, ISIiss
Rose. He didna seem in a huriy about it. But his leisure
was over when I v,as faii'ly away out of reach. So he camo
after me to my sister's, and nothing would do, but back I
must go with him. He couldna see what difference a month
or two could make in a thing that was to be for a lifetime ;
and my sister and the rest up there — they sided with him.
And there was reason in it I couldna deny ; so we just went
down to the manse one morning, and had it over, and mo
with this very gown on, not my best by two or three. He
made small count of any preparations ; so you Hve, !Miss
Eose, I couldna well help myself ; and I hope it will all be
for the best."

They all hoped that, and, indeed, it was not to l)e douljted.
But, though congi-atulating Mrs. Stii-liiig heartily, Graemo
19 (433)

r I.

h > ,1,

434

JANET S LOVE AND SEIIVICE.

was gi-eatly disappointed for tlicmselves. She had been look-
ing forward to the time when, Mrs. 'J'ihnan's temporary ser-
vice over, they should have Xellyback m her old place again;
but the best must bo made of it now, and Nelly's pleasure
must not be maiTed by a suspicion of her discontent. So
she entered, with almost as much eagerness as Rose, into a
discussion of the plans of the newly mamed pair.

" And is the market garden secured ? " asked she. " Or
is that to come later? "

"It will not be for a -while yet. He is to stay where he is
for the jiresent. You will have heard that IVIr. Ruthven and
his family are going homo for a while, and we arc to stay in
the house. I am to have the charge. It will be something
coming in through my own hands, which will be agreeable to
me," added the prudent and independent Nelly.

The meetuig of Mrs. Snow and Mrs. Stirling was a great
pleasure to them both. They had much to say to one an-
other before the time of INIi-s. Snow's departure came, and she
heard many things about the yoimg people, their way of life,
theu' love to each other, and then* forbearance with Fanny
and her friends, which she would never have heard fi'om
them. She came to have a great resjiect for Mrs. Stirhng's
sense and judgment, as well as for her devotion to the inter-
ests of the young people. One of the few expeditions under-
taken by her was to choose a wedding present for the bride,
and Rose had the satisfaction of helping her to decide upon
a set of spoons, useful and beautiful at the same time ; and
" good propei*ty to have," as Mr. Snow justly remarked,
whether they used them or not.

The day of departure came at last. "Will., Graeme, and
Rose went with them over the river, and Fanny would have
liked to go, too, but she had an engagement with Mrs. Grove,
and was obliged to stay at home. Arthur was to be at the
boat to see them off, if it could be managed, but that was
doubtfid, so he bade them good-bye in the morning before
he went away. There was a crowd, as usual, on the boat,

id been look-
mporary scr-

place again;
lly's pleasnro
iconteiit. So

Eose, into a
r.
d she. "Or

f where he is
Ruthven and
ire to stay in
)e something
agi'eeable to

v.as a great

v to one an-

lame, and she

r way of life,

with Fanny

heard from

.rs. Stirhng's

to the inter-

ttions under-

•r the bride,

decide upon

time ; and

remarked,

rraeme, and
Iwould have
|Mrs. Grove,

to be at the
lut that w^as

img before
the boat,

JANET 8 LOVE AND 8EUVICE.

435

and Graeme made haste to get a seat with ^Mrs. Snow, m a
quiet corner out of the way.

"Look, Graeme," said Rose. "There is Mr. Proutlfiite,
and there ai'c the Roxljurys, and ever so many more people.
And tlicre is 'Mv. Ruthven. I wonder if they are gouig away
toHlay."

" I don't know. Don't let us get into the crowd," said
Graeme, rather hiu'riedly. " "VVe shall lose the good of the
last minutes. Stay hero a moment, Will., and see wheth-
er Arthur comes. I wUl find a seat for IVIrs. Snow. Let us
get out of tlic crowd."

It was not easy to do, however, and they were obHged to
pass quite close by the party towards which Rose had been
looking, and which Graeme had intended to avoid.

'• "Who is that pretty creature with the child on her lap ? "
asked jMj's. Snow, with much interest. " You bowed to her,
I think."

" Yes. That is ]MJ.*s. Ruthven. I suppose they are going
away to-day. I should like to say good-bye to her, but there
are so many people with her, and I am not siu'e that she
knew me, though she bowed. Ah ! she has seen Rosie. They
are coming over hero."

She rose and went to meet them as they came near.

'' You have never seen my baby," said INL'S. Ruthven,
eagerly. " And I want to see 'Mrs. Snow."

Graeme took the little creature in her anus.

"No, we were unfortunate in finding you out when wo
caUed, more than once — and now you are going away."

" Yes, we are going away for a httle while. I am so glad wo
have met to-day. I only heard the other day that JIi's. Snovv'
had come, and I have not been quite strong, and they would
not let me move about. I am so very glad to sec you," added
she, as she took Janet's hand. " I have heard your name so
often, that I seem to laiow you well."

]Mrs. Snow looked with great interest on the lovely, deUcato
face, that smiled so sweetly up into hers.

430

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

" I have heard about you, too," said she, gravely. " And
I am very glad that we chanced to meet to-day. And you
ai'e going home to Scotland ?"

" Yes, for a little while. I have not been quite well, and
the doctor advises the voyage, but we shall be home again
before whiter, I hope, or at the latest, in the spring."

There was not time for many words. Arthui* came at the
last minute, and with hun Charlie Millar. Ho held out his
arms for the boby, but she would not look at him, and clung
to Greame, who clasped her softly.

" She has discrimination, you see," said Charlie. " She
knows who is best and wisest."

" She is very hke what Rosie was at her age," said INIrs.
Snow. " Don't you mind, JVIiss Graeme ?'*

" Do you hear that, baby ! " said Chaiiie. " Take heart.
The wee white Lily may be a blooming rose, j^et — who
knows?"

" You have changed," said IMrs. Snow, as Mr. Euthven
came up to her with AVill.

" Yes, I have changed ; and not for the better, I fear," said
he, gravely.

" I do not say that — though the world and it's ways do
not often change a man for the better. Keep it out of yoiu'
heart."

There was only time for a word or two, and Graeme would
not lose the last minutes with their fi'iend. So she diew her
away, and turned her face fi'om them all.

"Oh, Janet! Must you go? Oh! if we only could go
wiiih you ! But that is not what I meant to say. I am so
glad you have been here. If you only knew how much good
you have done me I "

" Have I ? "Well, I am glad if I have. And my dear, j^ou
are soon to follow us, you ken ; and .it wdll do you good to
get back for a little while to the old place, and the old ways.
God has been very good to you all."

" Yes, and Janet, you are not to think me altogether un-

■ " * UlJWjJ i

A-.. £^-. MMM-^MSnW

ve\y. " And

7. And you

ite well, and
homo again
ing."

came at the
I held out his
Q, and clung

arlio. " She

," said IMrs.

'Take heart,
le, yet — who

»Ii'. Ruthven

I fear," said

't's ways do
out of yoiu'

laome would
iG di'ew her

could go
1. I am so

I much good

dear, you

)u good to

old wavs.

'ether un-

JANET 8 LOVE AND REIiVICK.

437

thankful. Forget all the discontented fooUsli things I have
said. God /w.s' been very good to lis aU."

" Yea, love, and you must take heart, and tnist Him. And
you must watch over your sister, j'oiu* sisters, I should sav.
And Rose, xloar, you are never to go against your sister's
judgment in anything. And my bairns, dinna let the pleas-
ant life you are living make you forget another life. (Jod
be with you."

jMr. Snow and Will, made a screen between them and the
crowd, and Janet kissed and blessed them with a full heart.
There were only a few confused moments after that, and
then the girls stoc on the platform, smiling and waving their
hands to their fiiends, as the train moved oflf. And then
Graeme caught a glimi)se of the lovely pale face of Lilias
Ruthven, as she smiletl, and bowed, and helJ up her baby in
her arms ; and she felt as if that farewell was more for her,
than any of the many fi-iends who were watcliing them as
they went away.

And then they turned to go home. There was a crowd in
the boat still, in the midst of which the rest sat and amused
themselves, during the few minutes sail to the other siilo.
But Graeme stood lookmg away from them all, and from i'le
city and crowded wharf to which they were drawing ne u*.
Her eyes were turned to the far horizon toward which the
great river flowed, and she was saying to herself,

" I uv7Z take heart and trust Him, as Janet said. He ■; ;,s'
been good to lis aU. I will not be afraid even of the days
that look so dull and profitless to me. God will accept
the httle I can do, and I will be content."

Will, and Charlie Millar left them, after they had passed
thi'ough a street or two.

" We might just as well have gone to Merlcvalle with them,
for all the difference in the time," said Rose.

" But then our preparations would have interfered with
our enjoyment of Janet's visit, and with her (mjoyment, too.
It was a much better way fur us to wait."

1 1

438

JANETS LOVE AND SKUVICE.

" Yes. AikI for some thiiiju^.s it -will bo })t>ttor to bo there
after tho wodtling, ratlior than before. But I don't at all
like i^o'in^ back to an empty house. I don't lilic people
goin«< away."

"But [K-'ople must go away, dear, if tlu;y come ; and a
quiet time will Ixj good for us both, before we go away," baid
Griiewie.

But the (^uiet was not for that day. On that ^ay, two un-
expected events occiUTod. That is, one of them was unex-
pected to Graeme, and tho other was unexpected to all the
rest. 3Ir. Green proposed that Miss Elliott should accom-
pany him on his contemplated European tour ; and IMi'S.
Tilman's time of ser-^nce came to a sudden end.

As Graeme and Rose turned tho corner of the street on
their way home, they saw the Grove caniage standing at
their door.

" y'haf does not look much like quiet," said Rose. '• How-
ever, it is not quite such a bugbear as it used to bo ; don't you
remember, Graeme ? "

Rose's fears were justified. They found Fanny in a state
of utter consternation, and even Mrs. Grove not quite able
to conceal how much she was put about. INIrs. Tilman had
been taken suddenly ill, again, and even the midisccrning
Fanny could not fail to understand the nature of her illness,
when she ffjund h ' unable to speak, w ith a black bottle lying
on the bed beside her. Mrs. Grove was inchncd to make
light of the matter, saying that the best of people might be
overtaken in a fault, on occasion ; but Graeme put her very
charitable suggestions to silence, by telling the secret of the
housekeeper's former illnesses. Vhis was not the first fault
of the kind, by many.

There were a good many words spoken on this occasion,
more than it would be wise to record. INIrs. Grove professed
indignation that the *' mistress of the house" should have been
kept in ignorance of tho state of affairs, and resented the idea
of Fanny's being treated as a child. But Fanny said nothing ;
and then her mother assured her, that in future she would

JANKT S LOVE AND SKRVICE.

439

le street on

IS occasion.

leave her to the mana^oment of her own liousx'liold afTairK ;
and Gracnio surpiiscd tli(Ma all, by saj-inj:^, very dcciilidly,
that in doing this, she would be quite pnfc and right.

Of course, after all this, Fanny could not tliink of going
out to pass the afternoon, and Graeme had hltlo quiet that
day. There were strangers at dinner, and Arthur was busy
with them for some time after ; and when, being at liberty at
last, ho call(Hl to Graeme that ho wanted to sec her for a
minute, it must be confessed that she answered with impa-
tience.

"Oh! Arthur, I am very tired. Won't it keep till morn-
ing? Do let Mrs. Tilman and domestic affairs wait.'

" Mrs, Tilman ! What can you mean, Graeme ? I sui)pOKe
]\Ii's. (irove has been favoring the household with some advice,
has she ?

" Has not Fanny told you about it ?" asked Graeme.

"No. I saw Fanny was in tribulation of some kind. I
shall hear it all in go(xl time. It is something that concerns
only you that I Avish to speak about. How would you Uko
to visit .Europe, Graeme ? "

"In certain circumstances I might hke it."

"Mr. Green wished me to ask the question — or another

" Arthui', don't say it," said Ciraeme, sitting down and
turnmg pale. " Tell me that you did not cxjiect this,"

"I cannot say that I was altogether taken by surprise.
He meant to speak to you himself, but his com*agc failed
him. He is very luuch in earnest, Graeme, and very much
afraid.'

"Ai-thur," said his sister, earnestly, "you do not tliink
this is my fault? If I had known, it should never havo
come to this."

"He must have an answer now."

"Yes, you will know what to say to him. I am sorry."

"But, Graeme, you should take tune to think. In tho
eyes of the world this would be a good match for you."

Graeme rose impatiently.

440

JANKTS LOVK AND HKItVICK.

)M ■'

;•;:

1 ,

Tj..
> ■

" A^liat 1ms tho world to do with it V Tell mo, Ai-tluir,
tlmt you do not think nio to l)l!uno for this."

*' I do not think you intended to ^ivc Mr. ( Jrecn encouraj^e-
mcnt. But I cannot understand why you whould be so 8iu'-
priscd. I am not."

"You have not been seeing with your own eyes, and tho
cncouraj^cment has not been from m\ It cannot be helped
now. You will know what to say. And, Arthur, pray let
lliis be quite between you and me."

" Then, there is nothing more to be said ? "

" Nothmg. Good night."

Arthiu' was not surprised. Ho knew quite well that Mr.
Green was not good enough for Graeme. But, then, who
was ? Mr. Green was very rich, and it would have been a
cplendid settlement for Lor, and she was not very young
now. If she \yas ever to many, it was surely time. And
whv should she not ?

Ho had intended to say something hko this to her, but
somehow ho had not found it easy to do. Well, she was old
enough and wise enough to know her own mind, and to de-
cide for herself ; and, taken without tho help of his position
and his gi'cat wealth, Mr. Green was certainly not a very in-
tercstuig person ; and probably Graeme had done well to
refuse him. Ho pondered a long time on this question, and
on others ; but when ho went up stall's, Fanny was waiting
for him, wide awake and eager.

" Well, what did Graeme say ? Has she gone to bed ? "

Ai'thur was rather taken aback. He was by no means
sure that it would be a wise thing to discuss his sister's
affau*s with his wife. Fanny would never be able to keep his
news to herself.

" Y^iu ought to be hi bed," said he.

" Yes, I loiow I ought. But is she not a ^^^^^'^f*

" Graeme, a wretch ! "

"Nonsense, Arthur! I mean Mrs. Tilmuii. Yo' know
very wcU."

" Mrs. Tilman ! What has she to do with it 1 "

-.-4'LJk,'

ino, Ai-tliur,

}n oncourago-
ild bo so HUi*-

>yca, ami tho
lot be liolpcd
Imr, pray let

I'cll that Mr.
it, then, who
have been a
very young
T time. And

3 to her, but
she was old
d, and to do-
his position
ot a very in-
tone well to
[ucstiou, and
Avas waiting

to bed?"
y no means
his sister's
to keep his

1. -'»

Yo know

Janet's love and 8ei:vice.

441

""Wliat! did not aracme tell you ? "

And then tho whole story burst f n-th — all, and a ^'ood doul
more than lias been told, for Fanny and Rose had bLcii dis-
(•ussnij? tho niattor in private with Sarah, and sho had re-
hevod her mind of all that had been kept (piiet so long.

" Tho \nvt('h ! " said Arthur. " Slio might have bunicd
us m our bods."

"Just what I said," exclaimed Fanny, triumphantly.
"But then, Sarah was there to watch her, and Gra(niio knew
about it and watched too. It was very good of her, I think."

"But why, in tho name of common senses did they think
it necessary to wai^ and watch, as you call it ? Why was she
not scut about her business ? AVliy was not I told ? "

" Sarah told us, it was because Miss Elliott would not
have iVIrs. Snow's visit spoiled ; and Rose says she wanted
everything to go smootlily, so that sho should thuik I was
wise and discreet, and a good housekeeper. I am very much
ofiaid I am not."

Ai'thur laughed, and kissed her.

" Live and leani," said he.

" Yes, and I shall too, I am determined. But, Arthur,
was it not very nice of Graeme to say nothing, but make the
best of it ? Especially when mamma had got Nelly away
and all."

" It was very nice of her," said Ai'thiu*.

" And mamma was very angi'y to-day, and Graeme said

no, it was mamma who said she would let mo manage my
owTi alfaiis after this, and Graeme said that would be much
the best way."

"I quite agree," said her husband, laughing.

" But, Ai-thur, I am afi-aid if it had not been for Graeme,
things would have gone terribly wi'ong all this time. I am
afraid, dear, I am rather fooUsh."

" I am sui'o Graeme does not say so," said Arthur.

" No. Sho does not sav so. But I am afi-aid it is true all
tho some. But, iVrthui-, I do mciin to try and leani. I think
Rose is ricfht when sho savs there is no one hke Graeme."

442

JANET 8 LOVE AND SEUVICE.

^fv .m

'■■k:

Her husband tijiifi-cocl with her hero, too, and ho thought
about these thinj^s much more than ho said to his wife. It
■would ho a chflerent home to them all without his sister, ho
acknowledji^od, and he said to lumsclf, that ho oujjfht to bo
the last to rep'et Graeme's decision with re«,'ard to Mr.
Green and his European toiu'.

In the meantime, Graeme, not caririj^ to share her thoughts
with her sister just then, had stolen down stairs aiuain, and
sat looking, Avith troubled eyes, out into the night. That
was at lirst, while her conversation with her brother re man led
in h(>r mind. She was annoyed that Mr. Green had been
ponnilted to speal', but she could not blame herself for it.
Now, as slio was looking back, she said sl..j might have seen it
coming ; and so she mi-jht, if she had been thinking at all
of Mr. Green and his hojjos. She saw now, that from various
causes, witli which she had had nothing at all to do, they
had met more frequently, and fallen into more familiar
aequiiintaneeshi]! than she had been aware of while tho time
was passing, and she could see ^vhcrc he might have taken
encouragement where none was meant, and she was grieved
that it had been so. ]hit she could not blame herself, and
she could not brmg herself to pity him very nuielj.

" Ho will not break his heart, if he has one ; jind there are
others far better fitted to please him, and to enjoy what ho
has to bestow, than I could over have done ; and, so that
i\j'thur says nothing about it, there is no harm done."

So she put tho subject from her as something quite past
and done with. And there was something else quite past
and done with.

"I am afraid I have been \ery foolish and wrong," she
said, lettmg her thoughts go 'arther buck iutc^ the day. She
said it over and over again, and it was true. She had been
foolish, and perhaps a little wi'ong. Never once, since that
miserable night, now more than two years ago, when he had
brought Harry home, had Graeme touched tho hand or met
the eye of Allan Ruthven. She had frequently seen Lilias,
and she had not consciously avoided him, but it had so hap-

JANET S LOVE AND BEItVICE.

443

lio thought
bis wife. It
lis sis tor, ho
)ii^^ht to bo
lid to Mr.

icr thfiUghts
} a«,iiin, and
ight. That
or rcinahicd
1 had 1)0011
irsclf for it.
Iiavo seen it
king at all
•oni various
to do, they
re familiar
ile the tinio
have taken
as grieved
icrself, and

there are
what ho
(1, so that

10."

luitc past
liiito past

pcncd that thoy had never met. In those old times she had
come to the knowledge tliat, unasked, she had given him
more than fri(mdshi|). iind she had slinink, with such pain and
shame, from the tliought that she might still do so, that slu;
had grown morbid over tlie fear. To-dav she had seen him.
She had elas2)ed his hand, and mot his look, and listened to
his friendly words, and she knew it was well with her. They
were friends whom time, an'.l absence, and perhr^.ps suilering,
had fried, and they would be fi'iends always.

She did not ackiiov/ledge, in wonls, either her fear or her
relief ; but slie was glad wit)- a sense of the old pleasure in
the friendshij) of Allan and Lihas ; and she was saying to
herself that slie had been foolish and wrong to let it slip out
of her hfe so utterly as she had done. ^She told herself that
tiiie friendsliip, like theh's, was too sv»eet and rare a blessing
to bo sufllrod to die out, and that when they came homo
again tiie old glad time would coido back.

*' I am ^^lad that I have seen them again, very glad. And
I am glad in their happiness. I know that I am glad now."

It was very Lite, and she wa?-- tired after the long day, but
she lingered still, thinking of many things, and of all that tho
])ast had brought, of all that tho future might biiiig. Her
thoughts were ho})eful ones, and as sho went slowly up tho
stau's to her room, sho was repeating Janet's worda, and
making th(;m her own.

" I will take heart and tnist. If the work I have hero is
God-given, He will accept it, and make mo content in it, bo
it great or little, and I will take heart and trust.

oug," sho
lay. Sho
had been
linco that
n ho had
d or met
n Lilias,
so hap-

CHAPTER XXXVII.

H m

IF, on the night of the day when Janet went away, Graomo
could have had a glimpse of her outward life for the next
two years, she might have shrunk, dismayed, fi'om the way that
lay before her. And yet when two yeiu's and more had passed,
over the cares, and fears, and disap;- jmtments, over the change
and separation which the time had brought, she could look
with calm content, naj', whith grateful gladness. They had
not been eventful years — that is, they had been immarked by
any of the especial tokens of change, of which the eye of the
world is wont to take note, the sudden and evident coming into
their lives of good or evil fortune. But Cxracmc had only to
recall the troubled days that had been before the time when
she had sought help and comfort fi'om her old friend, to
realize that these years hud brought to her, and to some of
those she loved, a change real, deep, and blessed, and she
daily thanked God, for content and a quiet heart.

That which outwardly characterized the time to Graeme,
that to which she could not have looked forward hopefully or
patiently, but upon which she could look back without regi'et,
was her separation from her sislor. At first all things had
happened as had been planned. They made their preparations
for then* lorig talked of visit to ^Merlovillo ; they enjoyed tho
journey, the welcome, the wedthng. Will, went away, and
then they had a fewqu'et, restful days with Janet ; and then
there came from home sad tidings of Faun^'^s illness — an ill-
ness that brought her in a singk? night very near to tho
gates of death ; and (irucme did not need lier brother's
agonized entreaties to make her hasten to her side. Tho sum-
mons came duiing a brief ubsoucc of Iloso from Merleville, and
(444)

■*nWTIf' .

JANET S LOVE AND SKKVICE.

415

was too irni>(rativo to admit of (Iracmo's waitin.^ for her re-
turn, so she was left behind. Afterwards, when Fanny's
danger was over, she was permitted to remain longer, and
when sudden business In'ought theii* brother Norman east, liis
determination to take her home with him, and her incUnation
to go, prevailed over Graeme's unwilUngness t<j cr)nscnt, and
the sisters, for the first tune in their Lves, had separate
homes. Tlic hope of beuig able to follow her in the spiing,
had at fii*st reconciled Graeme to the thought, but when
spring came, Fimny was not well enough to be left, nor would
Norman consent to the retui'n of ll<jsu ; and so for one reason
or other, more than two years passed before the sistera met
again. They were not unhappy yeai-s to Graeme. Many
anxious hours came in the coui*so of them, to lier and to
ihem all ; but out of the cares and troubles of the time came
pe ice, and more than peace at last.

The winter that followed her retmni from ^lerluvillc, was
ra.hcr a dreary one. The restraints ami self-duniuls, which
the delicate state of her health necessarily impo.i(;d upon her,
were very irksome to Fanny; and Graeme's c^na'age and dieer-
fulness, sometimes during these first months, were hardly
sufilcient to answer tlic demands made uptju her. But all this
changed as the hoiu'of Fanny's trial approuched — the hoar that
was to make her a proud and happy mother ; or to quench her
hope, pcrhap.-!, her life, in darkness. ^Vll this was chaiig(,'d. Out
of the entire trust which Fanny had come to [jlace in her sister
Graeme, gi'ew the knowledge of a higher and bettej* trust.
The love and care which, duiing those davs of sickness and
sufiering, and before th<jse days, A\ere made precious and
asnu'ed, were made tiie means of revealing to her a lovo
wliich can never fail to do otlievwise than tlie very Ije.st for
i's object — a care moro than sufficient for all the emergencies
of life, and beyond Ut'c. And so as the days v.xnt on, the
possibilities of the future ct'as.'d to terrify her. Lniug life,
and boimd to it by tics that grew siroiiger and closer every
day, she was yet not afraid to know, that <k'ath might be be-
fore her ; and she grew gentle and quiet with u peace so

446

Janet's love and service.

sweet and deep, that it sometimes startled Graeme with a
sudden dread, that the end mij,'ht, indeed, be di'awing near.

Graemci was set at rest about one thing. If there had
lingered in her heart any fear lest her brother's happiness was
not secure in Fanny's keepmg, or that his love for her would
not stand the wear and tear of common life, when the ♦ first
charms of her youth and beauty, and her graceful, winning
ways were gone, that fear did not outlast this time. Through
the wearmens and frctfuhiess of the first months of her Ulncss,
he tended her, and hung about her, and listened to her com-
plaints with a patience that never tu'ed ; and when }ier fret-
ful time was over, and the days came when she lay hushed
and peaceful, yd a little awed and anxious, looking forward
to she knew not what, he soothed and encoiu'aged her with a
gentle cheerfulness, which was to Graeme, jiathetic, in contrast
with the restless misery that seemed to take possession of him
when he was not by her side. One does not need to be very
good, or very wise, or even beautiful to w in true love ; and
Fanny was safe in the love of her husband, and to her sister's
mind, growing worthier of it eveiy day.

Graeme would have hardly acknowledged, even to herself,
how much ibrthur needed the discipline of this time, but
afterwards she saw it plainly. Life had been going very
smoothly with him, and he had been becoming content with
its routine of business and pleasure. The small successes of
his profession, and the consideration they won for him, were
in danger of being prized at more than their value, and oi
maldng him forget things better worth remembering, and this
pause in his life was needed. These hoiu's in his wife's sick
room, apparently so full of rest and peace, but really so
an:dous and troubled, helped him to a truer estimate of the
value of that wbicli the world can bestow, and forced him to
compare them with those things over v.-hich the world liaM no
power. Fanny's eager, sometimes anxious questionings,
helloed to the same end. The confidence with wliich she
brought her doubts and difficulties to liim for solution, her
evident belief m his supeiior wisdom and goodness, her per-

.^: i>.-..ii..T*..

Janet's love and seevioe..

447

feet trust in his power and skill to put her right ahout
matters of which until now she hod never thought, were a re-
proach to liini often. Listening to hor, and pondering on the
questions which her words stiggostod, he saw how far he had
wandered from the paths whifh his father had trod, how far
ho had fallen short of the standard at which he had aimed,
and the tnie object of life grew clearer to him during those days.

They helped each other to the finchng of the Ijettcr way ;
she helped Mm most, and ( Jraemc hcl[)cd thom both. These
"were anxious days to her, but happy days, as well. In caring
for these two, so dear to her, in seeking for them the highest
happiness, in striving, earnestly, that this time might not be
suffered to pass, without leaving a blessing behind, she for-
got herself and her own fears and cares, and in seeking their
happiness found her own.

This quiet time came to an end. The little life so longed
for, so precious, hngered with them l)ut a day, and passed
away. Fanny hovered for a time on the brink of the gi'avc,
but was restored again, to a new life, Ijctter loved and more
"worthy of love than ever she had been before.

That summer they wont south, to the sea-side, and after-
wards before tluw rotm-ned home, to ^Merleville, where Arthur
joined them. It was a time of much pleasiu'c and pi'ofit to
them all. It did Arthur good to stand with his sister beside
the two gi-avcs. They spoke there more fully and fi'eely than
they had c\er spoken to each other before, of the old times,
of their father and mother, and of the work they had been
honored to do in the world ; and out of the memories thus
awakened, came earnest thoughts and high resolves to both.
Viewed in the light which shone from his father's life ancl
work, his own could not but seem to Arthur mean and worth-
less. Truths seen dimly, and accepted with reserve, amid
the bustle of business, and the influence of the world, pre-
sented themselves clearly and fully here, and bowed both his
heart and his reason, and though he said little to his sister,
she knew that life, with its responsibilitie-^ and duties, would
henpeforth have a deeper and hoher meaning to him.

448

JANET 3 LOVE AND SERVICE.

Mil

\i m

H .;!

lis

Jane!: never spoke to Griienic of hcrolcTlrouMcLl thmiglits.
" It is all coming rij^lit NvitU my bairn," she said, softly, to
herself, the "ery Ih'st glimpse she ]L,'ot of her face, and seeing
her and watching her during these few hajjin' days, she knew
that she had grown content with her life, and its work, and
that the fever of her heart was healed. And as the da^'S
went on, and she saw Ai'thur more and more like his father,
in the now earnestness of his thoughts and hopes, and watch-
ed Fanny gentle, and loving, mindful of others, clinging to
Graeme, and trusting and honoring her entirely, — a Fanny as
diU'erent as could v/eU be imagined from the vain, exacting
little house-keeper, who had so often excited her inchgnation,
a year ago, she repeated again and again. '' It is coming
right with them all."

Another year passed, bringing new cares, and new plea-
sures, and, to Arthur and Fanny, the fulfillment of new hopes
in the birth of a son. To (iraeme, it brought many longings
for the sight of her sister's face, many half formed plans for
going to her, or for bringing her homo, but Arthur's boy was
three months old before sL^ saw her sister. Will, was still
in Scotland, to stay for another year, at least. Harry had
been at home several times smce his ili'st soitow ful depiu'turo,
and now there was a prospect that he would be at home always.
A great change had taken j^lace in his uffaii's. The firm of
Elphinstone and Company no longer existed. It was suc-
ceeded by one, which bade fau' to bo as prosperous, and in
time, as highly honored as it had been, the linn of Elliott,
Millar and Company. Mr. Ruthven was still in the busi-
ness, that is, he had left in it the capital necessary to its es-
tablishment on a firm l)asis, l)ut ho took no jiart in the man-
agement of its affairs. He lived in Scotland now, and had
done so ever since the death of his wife, which had taken
place, soon after they hatl reached that country. Ho had
shice succeeded, on the death of his unci >, his father's brother,
to the mheritauce of a small c-stato near his native place, and
there, with his mother and his little daughter, ho resided.
Either, it was said, his uncle had mado his residence on the

JANET S LOVE AN[) 8ERVICE.

449

place a contlition of possession, or ho luid sro\\ni tired of a
life of bii>iiicss, but ho eviilcutly, did not intend to return to
Canada at present ; even his half brother, v.'ho deeply re-
gretted his early withdrawal from active life, and earnestly
remonstrated with him coneernint^ it, knew little al)out his
motives, (!xcqit that his health was not so Hi-ni as it used to
be, and that he had determined not to engage in busines.-j

again.

H^rrv had changed much, duruig the vcars of his absence.
Up to Mie time of his leiiving home, lie had retained his boyish
frankness and lovo of fun, more than is usual in one really
devoted t(j busmess, and successful in it. AVheii he camo
back, he seemed older than those years ought to have made
hhn. lie was no longer the meny, imjiul-'jive lad, ready on
the shortest notice, to take part in anything that ju-omised
amusement for the moment, whatever the next might bring.
He was (piiet and observant now; hardly doing his part in
gfcneral conversation, holding his own views and opuiious
with sufficient tenacity when they were assailed, but rather
indifferent as to what might be the views and opinions of
others ; as unHkc as possible to the HaiTV who had been so
ready on all occasions, either in earnest or in sport, to throw
himself into the discussion of i^.'l manner of questions, with
all kind of people. Even in their own cnclo, he Ukod betr
ter to listen than to speak, but he fell (juite naturally and
happily into his place at home, though it was not just the
old place.

Graeme thought him wonderfully improved, and made no
secret of her pride and delight in him. Ai'thur thought him
improved too, but he shocked his sister divadfully, by profes-
sing to see m him indications of character, that suggested a
future resemblance to their respected friend, ^Ir. Eiias (Ireen,
in more than in success.

" He is rather too devoted to business, too indiilerent to the
claims of society, and to the pursuits of the young swells of
the day, to be natural, I am afraid. But it will pay. In the
coui'so of iifteeu or twenty yoai's, we shall have him building

I I

450

JANET 8 LOVK AND SERVICE.

a'pjilatial residence,' and bcrinf^ himself and other people,
hko our respected friend. You seem to bo a little discontent-
ed with the prospect. (Iniemc."

" Discontented!" echoed Graeme. "It is with you, that I
am (hscontented. How can you speak of anything so horri-
ble ? You don't know Harry."

" I know what the result of such entire devotion to busi-
ness must bo, joined to such talents as Harry's. Success, of
course, and a measure of satisfaction with it, more or less, as
the case may be. No, you need not look at Han'y's fiiend
and partner. He is ' tarred with the same stick,' as Mrs.
Snow would say."

Hairy 's friend and partner, lau|:^hcd.

" Mrs. Snow would never sav that about IVIr. Millar," said
Graeme, indignantly, "nor about Harry either ; and nei-
tlicr of them will come to a fate like that."

" They may fail, or they may many. I was only speaking
of the natm'al consequences of the present state of affairs,
should nothing intervene to prevent such a conclusion."

"Harry will never grow to be hke Mr. Green," said Fanny,
gravely. " Graeme will not let him."

" There is something in that," said Arthur.

" There is a groat deal in that," said Mr. Millar.

" There are a great many to keep Harry from a fate hke
that, besides me," said Graeme, " even if there was any
danger, to one of his loving and generous natui'o."

She was more in earnest than the occasion seemed to call
for.

" Graeme," said Fanny, eagerly, " you don't suppose
Arthur is in earnest. He thinks there is no one Hko HaiTy."

Arthur laughed.

" I don't think there are many like him, certainly, but ho
is not beyond spoiling, and Graeme, and you, too, make a
great deal too much of him, I am afi-aid."

" If that would spoil one, you would have been sj)oiled
long ago," said Graeme, laughing.

" Oh I that is quite another matter ; but as to Hai*ry, it is

JANKT S LOVE AND SEFiVICE.

451

a good thing that Rofiic is coming home, to tlivort the attention
of vou two from him a wliilo," added he, as his brother ciiiuo
into the room. " And you will do your best to spoil her, too,
if some of the rest of us don't counteract your inHuence."

" "What is it all about?" said Harry. "Are you sjwiling
your son, Fanny ? Is that the matter under discussion ?"

'* No. It is you that we ai'O spoiling, (Traemc aiul I. AVo
admire you quite too much, Ai'thur says, and ho is afraid wo
shall do the same for Rose."

" Aa for Rose, I am afraid the spoihng process must have
commenced already, if admu'ation will do it," said HaiTy.
" If one is to beheve what Norman says, she has been turn-
ing a good many heads out there."

" So that her own head is safe, the rest cannot be helped,"
said Graeme, with a little vexation. It was not Hany's
words, so much as his tone, that she disliked. Ho shrugged
his shoulders.

" Oh ! as to that, I am not sure. I don't thmk she tried
to helj) it. ^\liy should she ? It is her natural and proper
sphere of labor — her vocation. I think she enjoyed it,
rather."

" Hari'y, don't ! I can't bear to hear you speak of Rose
in that way."

" Oh ! my speaking of it can't make any difference, you
know ; and if you don't believe me, you can ask Charhe.
He is nn- auth(jrity for the last bit of news of Rosio."

Charlie looked up astonished and indignant, and reddened
as he met Graeme's eve.

" 1 don't understand you, Hany — the least in the world,"
said he.

" Do you mean to say you have forgotten the postscript I
saw in Rowland's letter about Mr. Green and his hopes and
intentions? (^'onic, now, Charlie, that is a little too much."

" y\r. Green ! " repeated Arthur and Fanny, in a breath.

" iire wo never to have done with that unhappy man ? "
said Graeme, indignantly.

" The idea of Rose ever looking at him ! " said Fanny.

452

JANKT rt LOVE AXI) SKKVICE.

M»

"Oil! kIk! ini^'lit look .at him without (loiiipf hci*self any
harm," said HaiTV. " She might even huhilgo m a little in-
nocent llirtation "

" Ilarrv," Kaid Fanny, Bolcmnly, " if there is a worJ in the
Kii;^li.sh laii^iiagc that Graeme hates it ia that. Don't say it
again, I Ix-g."

Harry nhniggcd his shoulders. Graeme looked vexed
nn«l anxious.

•' MisH Klliott," said Charho, rising, hi some cmbaiTass-
nieut, " I hojK) you don't think me capable of discussing — or

])crmittiiig . I mean, in the letter to which Hari'y refers,

your sistrr's name was not mentioned. You have received a
wrong im))rossion. I am the last person in the world that
would Ix; likely to offend in that way."

" Charlie, man ! you arc makhig nnich ado about nothing;
and, Ciraeme, you are as bad. Of course, Rosie's name was
not nienlioned ; but I know quite well, and so do yon, who
' ]^a lulln Canadieime ' was. But no harm was meant, and
none was done."

" It ^^•ould be rather a good joke if llosio were to rule in
the ' Palatial Residence ' after all, would n't it ? " said Ai'thur,
laughing.

"Arthur, don't ! It is not nice to have the child's name
cou])l<!<l with — with any one," said Graeme.

" It may not be nice, but it cannot be helped," said Hany.
" It is the pi-nalty that very pretty girls, like Rose, have to
pay for their lieauty — especially when they are aware of it —
as Rose has good right to be by this time. Small blame to
her."

" And I don't see that there is really anything to be an-
noyed about, Graeme," said Arthur. "AgTcat deal more
than the coupling of names might happen without Rosio
being to bljinio, as no one should know better than you."

" Of course. "NVc arc not speaking of blame, and we will
say no mon? about it," said Graeme, rising ; and nothing
more w as said By and by Harry and his friend and partner
rose to go. They lived together, now, in the house bohiud

JANKT'ri LOVK AND BERVICi:.

453

tho willow trees, wlilcli Hose had taken such ])l(asiirp in
watchinr^'. It was a very a;.;Tceal)lo jtlacc! of rcsiilincc! siill,
thou^'h a loss fashionahlo locality than it usrd to he ; and
thov wei'o fortunati! euon^'li to luivo the etlicicnt and kindly
Nelly as housekeeper and ^'eneral caretaker still, and she
maf,niilied her otlicc.'.

Han-y had some last words to exeliaii/^'e with Arlhur, nnd
then IVIi*. i\rillar ai)proaehed (Jraenie and said, with a smile
that was rather forced and unc'ertain,

"I onj,dit to a])olo^izo for coming' back to the subject
again. I dou't think you believe me likely to s[)eak of your
sister in a way that would displease you. ^Von't you just
say so to me V "

"Charlie! I kuow vou could not. You are on(! of our-
selves."

Charlie's face Ini^htened. Of late it had Ix-en " Mr.
Millar," mostly — not that (Iraeme liked him k ss tlian she
used to do ; but she saw him less fre(|uently, and he was no
longer a boy, even to her. But this time it was, •'Charlie,"
and ho was very nuic.h pleased.

"You have been quite a stranger, lately," slie went on;
"but now that ^L's. Elliott is better and Hose coming honjo,
we shall l)e livelier and bc;tt.er worth visiting. AVe cannot
bring the old times ([uite back, even with Hanw and Rose,
but we shall always be glad to see you."

She spoke cordially, as she ft.'lt, and ho tried to answer in
the same v/ay ; but ho was grave, and (hd not us(3 many
words.

" I hope there is nothing wrong," said Graeme, obscrvuig
his changing lot)k.

" Nothuig for which there is any help," said he. " No, there
is nothing wrong."

" I am ready, Charlie," said Harry, coming forward, "And
Graeme, vou arc not to trouble vourself about llosie's con-
quests. When she goes to her own house — ' iialatial ' or
otherwise — and the sooner the better for all concerned — you
are coming to take care of Charhe and me."

454

.TANKTB LOVK AND SKHVICE.

" Thoro miiy 1)0 two or tyreo words to bo said on that
Kul)jt>('t," Hiiid Ardiiir, liiuj^liiii;^'.

"I jun sure neither you nor Funny will venture to object ;
you have h:ul (Inu'iue all your life — at hvist for the l.-ist seven
y(!ai'H. I should like to hear you, just. I am not joking,
(iraeine."

Oraenu! laughed.

" There is no hurrv about it, is tliero t I have heard of
people; changing tlieir nunds ; and I wcm't set my lieart on
it, in case I shoidd be disai)pointcd."

CHAPTER XXXVITl.

SO Rose came Ijonio at lust. Not just tlu; Rose \vho had
loft them, now moi'o than two years ago, even iu the
eyes of her sister. Her brothers thouj^'ht her j^'rcatly ehangeil
and imju'oved. She was more womanly, and dipiitiod, and
self-reliant, they said, and Graeme assented, wondering and
pleased, thongli it had been the desire of her hc^art that Inr
sister should come back to her just what she was when sho
went away.

She would probably have changed quite as much during
those two years, had they Ijeen i)assed at home, though they
might not have seen it so plainly. But iVi'thur dcjclared that
she had become Americanized to an astonishing degree, not
making it quite clear whether ho thought that an improve-
ment, indeed not being very clear about it himself. IlaiTy
agreed with him, without the reservation ; for Harry admu'cd
the American ladies, and took in good part Rose's hints and
congratulations v/ith regard to a ccrtaui Miss Cora Snider,

an heiress and a beauty of C . "A trifle older than

Harry," explained she, laughing, aside to Graeme ; " but
that, of course, is a small matter, comparatively, other things
being agi'eeablc."

"Of coui'se," said Harr}*, with a shrug that set Graeme's
fancy at rest about ]Miss Cora Snider.

In less time than Graeme at first supposed po.ssiijle, they
fell back into their old wavs again. Rose's dignitv and self-
rehanco were for her brothers and her friends generally.
With Graeme sho was, in a day or two, just what sho had
been before she went away — a dear cliild and sister, to bo

(455)

^nm

456

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

chcclcGtl and clii Jod, now and then ; to bo caressed and cared
for always ; growin^,', day by day, dcurcr and fairer to her
sister's loving- eyes. She was <^\iu\ to be at home aj^^ain. Sho
was very fond oi Norman and Hilda and their boys, and sho
had been very happy with tliem ; l)nt there was no one like
Clrat'iiic, and tlunx! was no place like home. So slie fell into
her old place and ways, and was so exactly the Kosie of old
times, that (jraenic smiled in secret over the idea of her
child ha^in;» been in dan,ij;cr of bein;^ spoiled by admii'ation
or by a love of it. It was quite impossible to beheve that
a lovG of pleasure would lot her be so content with their
quiet life, their household <jccupati<3ns, their unvaried round
of social duties and pleasures. Admired she might iiavo
been, but it had not harmed her ; sho had come back to
tliem quite unsi)oiled, heart free and fancy free, Graeme said
to herself, with a sense of relief and thankfulness that grow
more assured as the tinie went on.

**It amuses mo very much to hear Arthur say I am
changed," said liose, one day, when the sisters were sitting to-
gether. " AVhy, if I had come homo a strong-minded woman
aiul the president of a convention, it would htivc been nothing
to the change that h.as taken place in Fanny, which I dare-
say he does not see at all, as a (,*hango ; ho always was rather
blind whci'o she was concerned. But what have you being
doing to Fanny, (Iraenxe?"

" Kose, my dear," said (Jraeme, gravely, "Fann^'has had
a gi'eat deal of sickness and suli'Ting, and her change is for the
better, I am sure ; and, besides, are you not spoakuig a little
foolishly ?"

" Well, perhai)^ so, but not unkindly, as far as Fanny is
concerned. For the better! I should thbik so. But then I
fancied that Fanny was just the one to grow peevish in sick-
ness, and ill io do with, as Janet would say ; and I confess,
when I heard of the arrival of young iii'thur, I was afraid,
remembering old times, and her httlc aii's, that sho might not
be easier to hve with."

*' Now, Ilosio, that is not quite kind."'

JA^IETS LOVE AND PERVICK.

457

" But it is quit(; true. That is just what I thou<;ht iirst, and
what I said to Xoruian. I laiow you said how nice sho was,
and how sweet, and jdl that, but I thouj^ht that was just j-our
way of seeing thm<i;s ; 30U ne\er would sec Fanny's faults,
you know, even at the very fii'st."

Graeme shook her head.

" I think you must have forfifotten ri])out the very tii*st.
Wo were both foolish and faitliless, then. It has all como
right ; Arthur is very liappy in his wife, tliough I never
thought it could be in those days."

There was a long pause afl •:;• that, and then II jso said,

"You must have had a -.ery anxious time, and a great
deal to do, when she was so long ill that Iir.st winter. I ought
to ha\o been hero to help you, and I should have been, if I
had known."

" I wished for you often, but I did not have too mueh to do,
or to endure. I am none tho W(jrse for it all."

" No, " said Rose, and she came over and kissed her sister,
and then sat down again. Grjiemo looked very much pleased,
and a little surprised. Rose took up her work, and said,
with a laugh that veiled some feeling,

" I think you have changed — improved — alnu>st as much us
Fanny, though there was not so nmch need."

Graeme laughed, too.

" There was more need for unprovement than you know or
can imagine. I am glad you see any."

" 1 oiii an -.lous about one tiling, however, and so is Fanny,
I am f ure,"' said Rose, as Fanny came mto the room, with her
bab\ i> her arms. " I think I see an intention on vour i>:irt

k/ t. J.

to becoiue stout. I don't obj(3(;t to a certain roundness, but
it may be too decided."

" Graeme too stout! How can you say such things, Rosie?"
said Fanny, indignantly.

" She is not so slendor os when I went away."

" No, but she was too slender then. iVrthur thinks she is
growing liandsomer, and so do I."

"Well, perhaps," said Rose, making bclii've to examuio
20

-I- !■

•■ v:

45S

.TAM:T S Lt>VK AND SKKVirE

Graonic criticiiUy ; "slill I must wiirii li3i- !i;4-;iiiist fiitarc pos-
sibilities as to HtoutnoHS — Jiiul otliur tlu;i^>fs."'

"It is not the stoutnoss tiiiit tlisphjasos her, IVniiy," said
Graonic, lauj^'hin.^- ; "it is tin; niiil<ll<;-!i^i;(l look that is set-
tliufj^ down u])on mo, that sht; isdiscout'-ntcd with."

" I'aniiy," said Rose, "don't contradict licr. "She says
that on pnrposo to bo contradict»Ml. A middlc-afj^cd look, is
it? I diiro say it is!"

"A k)ok of conientmont with tliin<;'s as tin !V arc," said
(h'aciiic. '■ There is a look of expectation on most i/num/ Lmcs,
you know, a hopeful look, wl'ich too often chan<jfes to an
aiixiods look, or look of disap])ointinent, as youth ])iisscs
away. I iuc:in, of coiu'se, with Hin;.;h> woiueii. 1 sujipose it
is that witli mc ; oi-, do I look as if I were setthu}^ down con-
ter.t with thiM<j;s as th(>y are ':"

" (irjUMMG,''' said her sister, " if s )me pot)j)h^ wer(; to sj)eak
like that in my hearin^j:, I should say it sounded ji little like
atVectatJoii.-'

" I hope it is not politeness, alone, which previints you from
savin<i[ it to mo .'"

'■ lUit it is idl uonsi'ns(>, ('Iraeme (h'ar," said Fanny.

" How old arc you, (iraiMue?"' said li )se. " Middle-a^;-ed,
indeed !"

" Kosio, does not ten years seem a loii^ time to look for-
ward to ? Shall you not be-^in to think yourself middle-a;,'(!d
ton vi'a.rs hence ?"

" Certjiinly not ; by no means ; I have no such intention,
imless, imieed — . IJut we won't speak about such unpleasant

I'c vou do

that?"'

thuifjfs. Fanny shan't 1 take the baby wii

" If ;on would like to take him," siiid Fauny, with somo
hesitation.

Baby was a subject on which Rose and Faimy had not
(piitccome to a nmtual understanding. Rose was not so im-
pressed with the wondcu'ful attractions of her son as Fanny
thought 8lu> oujL^ht to be. Fven(ri-aeme had been snr[)riseil
at her inditreroni-i> to the charms of hi-r nephew, ami expostu-
lati'd with iier on the aubject. liut llo.se had had a surfeit of

JAXKTS I.oVi: AM) SKUVICK.

451)

k von from

baby swootncss, and, after Hilda's strong', beautiful boya,
Fanny's littlo, dclicato thrco nioiiths' baby was a disa^)-
poiiitniont to her, an<l she iiiad(! no sccrot of hor anniscnicnt
at the d(.'Votion of (Iraciuc, and tbo rai)ttiics of liis mother

over liini. ])nt now, as she took him in her arms, she aston-
isiied them with such ehxienee of l)aby-talk as baby had never
heard before. Fainiy was delixlited. Happily (Iraeme pre-
vented Iho {juestion that trembled on her lips as to the eom-
parative nusrits of her nejOiews, by saying',

"Well <lone, Eositi! If only Harry could hear you I"

" I have of! en wished that Hilda could see and Ilea: you
both over iliis litth; mortal. Yon slmuM sec; Hilda, Does
not sh<; i)rt>serve her ei|nanimity ? I'ancy her waikin<.,' the
room for hours with any of her boys, as you did Ihe other
ni<jht witli this one. Not siii>, indeed, iioi- any ont- else, with
her ])ermission."

" I thought — [am sure vou have always spok<.'n about Hilda
as a model mother," said Fanny, doubtfully.

" And a foutl mother," said (Iraeme.

" Sli(! /•>■ a model mother ; she is fond, but she is wise," said
Hose, noddin;^ her liead. " I say no morcf."

" i'\inny dear, we shall have to learn of Hose. Wc aro
very in(>x]HM*ienced ])eoplo, I fear," said (ira'Miie, smilin;^'.

"Well, I daresny even I mi^'ht t('aeh yuu something.,' But
you should see Hilda ami her babies. Her eld(;st sor is
three years oM, and her seeond will soon be two, and her
dau,L,diter is four months. Siipj)ose she had be^nm by walk-
ing' all nij^ht with each of them, and by lunuorinj^ (:very
whim V"

And then Rose be;,;an her talk with the baby n'^'ain, sayinpf
all sorts of thin<,'s about the fond f(»olishness of his littl>>
mamma and his Aunt (Iraeme, tiiat it would not have Imcu
at all pretty, sluvirKnowled'^'ed, to say to thi'mselves. (li'aeme
listened, smilin;^', but Fanny looked anxious.

" Rose," said she, tell me about Hilda's way. I want to
have the very best way witli baby. T know I am iiot very wise,
but I do wish to learn and to <lo rij^^htl"

4f)0

JANKt's LOVK and SKliVICE.

Her words and her miinncr rcMiiiadcMl Rose so forcihly, by
contract, of the J'^iuiiy whoso vanity and self-asserliun had
been such a voxatit)U so ofcen, that, in thinkinj^ of thoHO old
times, she forgot to answer her, and sat phiyhig with tho
chihVs chisping fihi^ers.

"Slio thinks I will never be like Hilda," said Fanny, dole-
fully, to (iraemc.

liose shook her head.

" Tliere are not many Uko Hilda ; but I don't see any
reason why you should not be as f?ood a mother as she is, and
have as obedient children. You have as good a teacher. No,
don't look at (iraeme. I know what you mean. She has
taui^ht you ail the ^oiA thnf ia in y.>u. There are more of us
who could say the same — cxi'opt for makin,ijf her vain. It is
this young gentleman, I mean, who is to teach you."

And she began her extraordinary conlidences to the child,
till (iracme and T'anny were both laughing lieai*tily at her
nonsense.

'• I'll tell you what, Fanny," said she, lookhig up in a
little. " It is the mother-love that makes one wise, and
Solomon has scmiething to do with it. You must take him
into your confidence. But, dear me ! Think of my ventiu*-
ing to give you good advice. I might be Janet herself."

" But, Ilosie, dear," said Graenu', still laughing, '' Solomon
has nothing to say about such infants as this one."

"Has he not J "Well, that is Hilda's mistake, then. She
is responsible for my opinions. I know nothuig. The wis-
dom I am dispensing so freely is entirely hers. You must go
and see Hilda and her babies, and you will understand all
about it."

" I mean to go and see her, not entirely for the sake of her
wisdom, however, thou->h it must be wonderful to have un-
pi'essed you so deeply."

"Yes, it /x wt)ndcrful. But you will be in no huny about
going, will you'? Two or three years hence will be time
(>n()ugh, I should thiidc. I mean to content myself Iutc for
that time, and you are not going tliere, or anywhere, willnait

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

4G1

i-i])ly, by
Lion liiul

svith ilio

uy, tli)lc-

, SCO any
10 is, and
^licr. No,
She has
loro t)f us
in. It is

the child,
ly at her

up in a

*viso, and

iko him

w'utur-

klf."
Solomon

Ml. She

The wis-

nmst go

'stand all

ikc of her
have im-

iTv about
be time
luTi' i'<»r

, uilhout

mc. That is quite decided, Nvhatever aiTangcments Nomian
may have made.'

'*I don't think he will ol)jeet to yom* gomg with mc, if
Arthur dots n't, and Fanny," said Grac^nie, smiling.

" Possibly not. But I am not j,'oing yet. And no plan
that is meant to separate you and me shall prosper," said
Rose, with more heat than the oecasitm seemed to call for, as
though the subject had been previously discussed in a manner
not to her liking. Crraemo looked grave and was silent a
moment, then she said,

" I remember saying almost these very w(n*ds before wo
went to Merlevilh.', to I'-mily's wedding. But you know how
difl'erently it turned cmt for you and me. We will keep to-
gether while we can, dear, but we must not set t)ur hearts
U[)on it, or uptm any other earthly good, as though we know
best what is for our own hiippiness."

" AVell, I suppose that is the right way to look at it. But
I '.nil to be vour tirst C(jnsi deration this winter, vou must
reniemljer, and you are to bo mine."

"(Jraeme," said Fanny, eai'nestly, "I dim't think Hose is
spoiled in the least."

Fanny made malapropos speeches sometimes still, but they
were never unkindly meant now, and she looked with veiy
loving eyes from one sister to the other.

"I hope you did not think Hilda was going to spoil mo.
Did you'?" suid Iios(>, laughing.

" No; not Hilda; and it was not I who thought so, nor
(iraeme. But Hurry said you were admired more than was
good for you, perhaps, and "

Hose shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh! Harry is too wise for anything. I had a woi'd or
two with him on that subject myself, the lust time he was ont
at Norman's. You must not mintl what Harry says about
me, Fanny, dear."

" ]3ut, Hose, you are not to thhik that Harr\ said anything
that was not niee. It wan one night when Mr. JJillar wsi«
Lero, and there was something tsiid aljout ^Lr. (Jieen. Ab4

I !

... (

4r,2

JAM/rs I.OVK ANI> SKRVICi;.

'ivU

he thoiiQ^lit — ono of them th(ii:;.':ht that 3'oii — that he 1

have iV)ri(()ttou what wuh Haul. \Vhai was it, (Jracrne? You
Avcrc hero as v»'ell as I."

" I am very sure there was nothing' said that was not nice,"
said Clraeme. " I don't quite remember a-hout it. There was
nothiiij* worth rememl)erin^' or repeating."

"I daresay Hairy told you I was a llirt. He told mo so,
myself, once," said Hose, tossing her head in a way (jJraemo
did not like to see.

*' Hush, dear. Ho said nothinj^ unlcind, you may he sure."

"And, now I remember, it was r.ot Harry but ^Nlr. ^Millar
who spoke about ^Nlr. (ireen," said FiUiuy, ''and alnjut tho
' l)alatial residence,' and how Kose, if she liked, miglit "

Koso moved about impatiently.

" I mast say I cannot admire; the taste that would permit
th(! discussion of any thiny of that sort with a stran^^fcr,'' said
she, angrily.

" ^ly dear, you arc speakin;^ foolishly. There was no such
discussion. And if you say anythinj^' more on the subject, I
shall think that Harry was ri^'ht when he said you were Ixjnd
of admiration, and that your conscience is tronblinjj;' you
about sonu'thing. Here comes nur.se for baby. I Hup[)oso it
is time for his bath, is it manmia? "

I'anny left tho room with tlie cliild, and, after a few min-
utes' silence. Hose said, with an eftort,

"Now, (Iraemo, please tell mo what all this is about."

" Dear, there is nothinj]f to tell. I fancy Harrv used to
think that I was too anxious and caj:;er about your comin;jf
home, and wanted to remind me that vou were no lon^-cr a
child, but a woman, who was aihnired, and v.ho nn'yht, Ijy and
bv, learn to can* for some one else, more than for vour sistir
and In-others. liut he did nt)t serionslv say anvtliinj^ that
you need care about. It would have been as well, jierhaps,
not to hav(! said anythinjjf in 'Slv. ^Millar's presence, since wo
seem io ]v.i\o fallen a li!t!e out of acciuainlanee with him late-
ly. But Harr\ has not, and he did not consider, and, indeed,
there was nothing said that he might not very weil hear."

JANET M T.dVK AM) RKKVU'i:.

4r,;}

Iff
'•I

"It RCcniH it w!is lio wlio l)ft(l most to Hay."

"No. You ra-o iiiishikcn. Fiiniiy did not roinciul)(>r cor-
roctlv. It was cither Arthur or Ilarrv who had souiethintif to
Hay about 'Mv. (Irecsn. I don't tliink Charlio had anytliin^' to
Ray about it. I am sure ho would be the last one willin<,'ly to
disi)l(asu nic or von. And, really, I don't see why you should
be aiij^ry aboul; it, d(!ar Ilosie."

"I am Jiot ani'ry. "Why sliould I be anjn'y?" But she
reddened as she nu;t (Iraeme's eye. (Jraenie looked at her in
some suq>ris('.

" Harry is — is unbearable sometimes," said Kose. " Faney

his takiuf^ nu; to task about — about his friend Oh ! there

is no use talkin*,' about it. Graeme, are you pfoin^i' out?"

''Yes, if you like. ]3ut, Rose, I think you are hard upon
Ilarrv. Thei-e must bo some misunderstandiii''. A\'hv! ho
is as fond ar.d as proud of you as possible. Y'ou must not bo
yain when I say so."

"Tliat does lu.t prevent his bein<^ very unreasonable, all
the same. H(>\vever, he seems to have got over it, or forgot-
ten it. Don't let us speak any more about it, (iraeme, or
think al)out it eith(>r.'

But ( Jraeme did think about it, and at Ihst had thoughts
of ([U(>stioning Hurry with regard to Rose's cause of <iuaiT(>l
with him, l)ut she tlumght ])etter of it and did not. Nor did
she ever speak aljout it again to Rose ; but it came into her
mind often when she? saw the two together, and once, when
slu! heard Harry say S(;mething to Rose al)out her distance
and (li'jfnity, and how uncalled for all that sort of thing was,
she would hiiv! liked to know to what he was referring
to, but she did not ask, for, notvvitlistandiiig little disagree-
ments of this kind, tliev went evideiitlv excellent friends.

How exactly Wkv, the old time Vjcforc^ Ai'thur".- marriage,
and l)efore AVill. or Hurry went away, some ot' the d.iys were,
that followed the coming home of Rose. They seemed Uko
the days even longer ago, (iraeme felt, with a sense of rest
and peace at her heart un^;[)eakal)le. I'or tla; old co7itent,
nay, something better and more abiding had come back to

■h

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< *

4G4

Janet's love and service.

It:

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ri,

her. The peace that comes after a time of trouble, the con-
tent that gi'ows out of soiTow sanctified, are best. Remem-
bering what has fjono before, we know how to estimate the
depth, and strength, and sweetness — the shaipness of past
pain bcmg a nieasme for the present jo}-. And, besides, the
content that comes to us from God, out of disappointment
and sorrow, is ours bej'ond loss, because it is God-givcii, and
we need fear no evil.

So these were tmly peaceful days to Graeme, imtroubled
by regrets for the past, or by anxious fears for the future.
They were busy days, too, filled with the occupations that
natui'ally spinmg out of happy home life, and agreeable social
relations. Rose had been lionored, beyond her deserts, she
said, by visits since she came home. These had to be re-
turned, and Graeme, who had fallen oft* from the performance
of such duties, dm'ing Rose's absence, and Fanny's illness,
took pleasure in going with her. She took real plca&iire in
many of these visits, sometimes because of the renewal of
friendly mterest, sometimes for other reasons. The new way
in which the character and manner of Rose came out never
failed to amuse her. At home, and especially in her inter-
coui'se with her, Rose was just what she had been as a child,
except the difference that a few added yeare must make.
But it was by no means so in her mtercoiu'se with the re^t
of the world. She had ideas and opinions of her own, and
she had her own way of making them kno\\'n, or of defending
them when attacked. There was not much opportunity for
seeing this dvunng brief formal visits, but now and then
Graeme got a ghmpse that gTeatly amused her. The quiet
self-possession with wliich she met condescending advances,
and accepted or declined comphments, the serene air with
wliich she ignored or rebuked the little pohte impertinences,
not yet out of fashion in fine drawing-rooms, it was some-
thing to see. And her perfect unconsciousness of her sister's
amusement or its cause was best of all to Graeme. Artliiu*
amused himself with this change in her, also, and had a bet-
ter opi)ortunity to do so. For Graeme seldom went to large

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

4r,r

paiiics, and it was under the clmpcronago of ^Irs. Ai*tlmr
that Rose, as a general thing, made her appearance in their
largo and agreeable cu'cle, on occasions of more than usual
cercmcjnv. Not that there Mere very many of these. Fanny
was perfectly well now, and enjoyed these gay gatherings in
moderation, but they were not so necessary to her hai^piness
as they used to be, and Rose, though she made no secret of
the pleasure she took m them, was not unreasonable in her
devotion to society. So the wintd* was rather ([uit.'t than
othei-wise, and Graeme and Rose found themselves with a
good deal of leisure time at theu* disposal.

For ti*ue to her first idea of what was for the happiness of
her brother's household, Graeme, as Fanny gi'ew stronger,
gradually withdrew from the bearing of resjionsibility where
household matters were concerned, and suil'ered it to fall, as
she felt it to be right, on Arthur's wife. Not that she refused
to be helpful, either in word or in deed, but it was as much
as possible at the bidding of the mistress of the house. It
was not always veiy easy to do, often not by any means so
easy as it would have been to go on in the old way, but she
was very much in earaest about this thing. It was right that
it should be so, for many reasons. The responsibihties, as
well as the honor, due to the mistress of the house, were
Fanny's. These could not, she being in health and able to
bear them, be assumed by her sister without mutual injury.
The honor and responsibility could not bo separated without
danger and loss. All this Graeme tried to make Fanny see
without using many words, and she had a more docile pui)il
than she would have had duiing the first jear of her married
life. For Fanny had now entu*e confidence in the wisdom
and love of her sister, and did her best to profit by lier
teaching.

It was the same where the child was concerned, ^\llilo
she watched over both with loving care, she liesitatcd to in-
terfere or to give advice, even in small matters, lest she should
lessen in the least degree the young mother's sense of respon-
sibility, knowing this to be the best and surest guide to the

r-.

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JANCT 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

Ill

uiso ninl ftiitlifiil pfrfornianco of a mother's duties. And
overv day hIio wjis {,Towinjjf happier in the assurimce that all
waH coniiii*^ ri^^'ht with her sister, that she was learning' the
best of all wisiloni, the wisdom of gentleness and self-l'« )i<(et-
fulness, and of devotion to the welfare of others, and that all
this was heaniifj fniit in the ^'eatcr happiness of tlie h()ns(!-
hold. And iH-sides this, or rather as a result of this, slic
bade fair to be a notable little housemother also ; a httlo
over-anxious, i^jrhaps, and not very patient with her own fail-
nres, or with the failures of others, but still in earnest to
attain success, and to bo in all things what in the old times
she had onl}' cared to seeni.

Though Harrv did not now form one of the household, ho
was with them veiy often. Mr. Millar did not quite full into
the pla«?e which HaiTy's friend Charlie had occupied, but
though he said less about his enjojnnent of the friendshij) of
their circle, it was evident that it was not because he enjoyed
it less than in th(! old times. He had only changed since
then by growing quieter and graver, as they all had done.
His brother's determination not to return to Canada had been
a gi'cat (hsappointmcnt to him at the time, and he still re-
gretted it very much, but ho said httlo about it, less than was
quite natural, ])erhaps, considei'ing that the}' had once been
such fi'iends. Cmnimstances had made the brothers strangers
dui-ijig the l>oyhood of the younger, and it was hard that cir-
cumstances should separate them again, just as they had been
beginnhig to know and to value each other. Charlie liad
hoped for a l(jng time that Allan might come back after a
j'car or two ; for his estate was by no means a large one, and
ho believed that he would soon weary of a hfe of inactivity,
and return trj business again. Ho was still j'oung, and might,
with his knowledge and experience, do anything he liked in
the way of making money, Charlie thought, and he could not
be satisliinl with his decision. But Will., who had visited Al-
lan lately, assured Charlie that his brother was setthng down
to the enjoyment of a quiet coiuitry life, and that though he

JANKTr^ LOVK AND bEUVICE.

407

mif^lit visit Cftiiiida, there was little chance of liis ever making
that country his home afTj-iiui.

"I should think not, indeed," said iVrthur, one nif^dit, uh
thoy were discusshi^' the matter in connection witli AV'ill 's
last letter. " You ilon't display your usual f^ood jud<.,ancnt,
Charlie, mail, \vher(> vour brother is con(!ernod. \S'h\ sliould
ho return V He is enjoyui'^ now, ti comparatively youn^' man,
all that you and Harry expect to enjoy after some twenty or
thirty years of hai'd labor — a competency in society con<?enial
to him. AVhy should Ik; wait for this longer than he need?"

" Twontv or thirtv years !" said 1 larry. " Not if I know it.
You are tliinkinj,' of old times. Biit I nmst say I agree with
Charlie. It is strange that Mr. lluthven should be content
to sit down in comparative idleness, for, of course, the idea of
farming his own land is a])surd. And to tell you the ti-uth, I
never tliought him one to be satisfied witli a mere compe-
tencv. I thoufj^ht him at one time ambitious to become a rich

man — a gi'eat merchant."

" It would not bo safe or wise to disparage the life and aims
of a gi'eat merchant ui your presence, HaiTv," said Rose, " but
one would think the life of a country gentleman preferable in
some respects."

" I don't think Allan aspires to the position of a countiy
gentleman — in the thgnitied sense in which the tenn is used,
where he is. His place is veiy beautiful, but it is not largo
enough to entitle him to the position of one of the great
landed proprietors."

" Oh ! as to that, the extent makes httle diflerence. It is
the land that his fathers have held for generations, and that
is a tlnng to be proud of, and to give position, R(jse thinks,"
said Artluu*. '

"His father never owned it, and his grandfather did not
hold it long. It was lost to the name many years ago, and
bought back again by Allan's uncle within ten years."

'• Yes, with the good money of a good merchant," said
Harry.

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468

JANET 8 LOVE AND SI'RVICE.

"And (lid he make it a condition tliit lio sliould live on it?"
said Arthur.

" No, I think not. Allan never has said any such thin^' a.s
that to ine, or to my mother."

"Still he may think it his duty to hve there.*'

" I don't know. It is not as though it were a large es-tate,
with many tenants, to whom he owed duty and care and all
that. I think the life suits him. My mother always thought
it was a great disappointment to him to be obhged t^j leave
home when he did to enter upon a life of business. He did
not object decidedly. There seemed at the tijiie nothing else
for him to do. So he came to Canada."

" I daresay his present life is just the ver}- Hfe he could
enjoy most. I wonder that you are so vexed about his stay-
ing at home, Charlie."

" I daresay it is selfishness in me. And yet I don't tliink
it is so altogether. I know, at least I am almost sure, that it
would be better for him to come here, at least for a time. He
might alwaj's have the gouig home to look fonvard to."

" I cannot imagine how he can content himself there, after
the active hfe he hved on this side of the water ; he will de-
generate into an old fogie, vegetating there," said Harry.

" Bist I think you are hard on yourself, Mr. ^Millar, c:Jhng
it selfishness in you to wish your brother to be near you,"
said Graeme, smiling. " I could find a much nicer name for
it than that."

" I would like him to come for his own sake," said Charhc.
" As for me, I was just beginning to know him — to know how
superior he is to most men, and then I lost him." He paused
a moment —

•' I mean, of course, wo can see little of each other now, and
we shall find it much easier to forget one another i\nm if wc
had lived together and loved and quarreUcnl with ea<-h other
as boys. I shall see him if I go home next summer, and I
don't despair of seeing him here for a visit, at least,"

'•'Will, says he means to come some time. Perhaps he will

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

469

come back with you, or with Will, himself, when he comes,"
said Jlose.

" Oh ! the voyage is nothing ; a matter of ten days or less,"
said ^irthur. "It is like livhig next door neighbors, in com-
parison to what it was when we came over. Of course ho
may come any month. I don't understand yoiu' desolation,
Charlie."

Charlie laughed, " "Wlien is Will, coming ?"

"It does not seem to be decided yet," said Graeme. lie
may come in the spring, but if he decides to travel first, as
he seems to have an oppoi*tuuity to do, he will not be here till
next autiunn, at the soonest. It seems a long time to i)ut it
off, but we ought not to gnidge the delay, especially as ho
may never get another chance to go so easily and pleas-
antly."

" Wliat if Will, should think, like Mr. rtuthven, that a life
at home is to be desu'cd ? How would you like that, girls ?"
said HaiTv.

*' Oh ! but he never could have the same reason for think-
ing so. There is no family estate ui his case," said Hose,
laughuig.

" Who knows ? " said Ai'thm*. " There may be a little dim
kirk and a low-roofed manse waiting him somewhere. Tluit
would seem to be the most appropiiate inheritance for his
father's youngest son. AVhat would you say to that
Graeme?"

" I would rather say nothing — think nothing about it," said
Graeme, hastily. "It is not likely that could ever happen.
It will all be aiTangcd for us, doubtless."

" It was very stupid of you, Harry, to say anything of that
sort to Graeme," said Host;. "Now, she will vex herself
about her boy, as though it were possible that he could stay
there. He never will, I know."

" I shall not vex myself, indeed, Rosie — at least I shall not
until I have some better reason for doing so, than Hany'a
foolish speeches. 'Mx. Miliar, you said you might go homo

nil'

•- <■:■

!■;■». V

*^ '**■,; "

470

JANET B LOVE AND SERVICE.

ii.

'!}

It I

I " 1

iillilJ!

next summer. Is that sometliing new ? Or is it only new to
us?"

" It is possible that I may go. Indeed, it is very likely. I
shall know soon."

" It depends on circumstances over M'hich he has no con-
trol," said Harry, impressively. "He has my best wishes,
and ho would have yours, Graeme, I think, if you know about
it."

"He has them, though I don't know about it," said
Graeme. " I have confidence in him that he deserves success."

" Yes, it is safe to vrish hun success — if not in one thing,
in another. I am not sure that he quite knows what he
wants yet, but I think I Iniow what is good for him."

"Rosie," said Fanny, suddenly, " Mr. Millar can set us right
now. I am glad I thought of it. Mr. IMillar, is Mrs. Rox-
bury your aunt, or only your brother's ? "

" I am afraid it is only Allan who can claim so close a re-
lationship as that. I do n't think I can claim any relation-
ship at all. I should have to consider, before I could make it
clear even to myself , how we are connected."

" It is much better not to consider the subject, then," said
Arthur, " as they are rather desirable people to have for rela-
tions ; call them cousins, and let it go."

" But at any rate she is not your amit, and Amy Roxbury
is not your cousin, as some one was insisting over Rose and
me the other dav. I told vou so, Rosie."

" Did you ?" said Rose, languidly. " I do n't remember."

"It Avas Mrs. Gridlcy, I thmk, and she said — no, it must
have been some one else — slie said vou were not cousins, but
that it was a very couveiucut relationship, and very pleasant in
certain circmnstanccs."

" Very true, too, eh, Charlie," said Arthur, laughing.

" I should S'jarcoly venture to call Miss Roxbui'y cousin,"
said Charhc.

" Slic is very nice, indeed," pursued Fanny. " Rose fell in
love with hor at first sight, and the admiration was mutual,
I think."

JANET 3 LOVE AND SERVICE.

471

ly new to

likelv. I

5 no con-
st wishes,
icw about

it," saitl
1 success."
me thing,
5 what he
I."

3t US right
Mrs. Eos-
close a re-
y relation-
klcl make it

len," said
'c for rcla-

Hoxbury
Rose and

lomber."
.0, it must
msins, but
pleasant iu

ling.

y cousin,"

lose fell in
■is mutual,

Rose shi"Uggcd her shoulders.

" That is, perhaiw, a little strong, Fanny, dear. She is veiy
charming, I have no doubt, but I am not so apt to fall into
sudden admirations as I used to be."

"But you admired her very much. And you said she was
very like Lily Elphinstonc, when you first saw her. I am
siu-e you thought her very lovely, and so did Graeme."

" Did I ?•' said Rose.

" She is very like her," said Mr. Millar. " I did not notice
it till her mother mentioned it. She is like her in other res-
pects, too ; but livelier and more energetic. She is stronger
than Lily used to be, and perhaps a Mttle more like the modem
young lady."

" Fast, a little, perhaps," said Arthur.

" Oh ! no ; not like one in the unpleasant sense that the
word has. She is self reliant. She has her own ideas of men
and things, and they are not always the same as her mamma's.
But she is a dutiful daughter, and she is c1 arming with her
little brothers and sisters. Such a number there are of them,
too."

Charlie spoke eagerly, looking at Graeme.

" You seem deeply interested in her," said Arthui', laughing."

Harry rose impatiently.

"We should have Mrs. Gridley here. I i ever think a free
discussion of our neighbors and their affairs can be conducted
on proper principles without her valuable assistance. Your
covsiii would be charmed to know that you made her the
subject of conversation among yoiu' acquaintance, I have no
doubt, Charlie."

" But she is not his coushi," said Fanny.

*•' And Harry, dear, you are unlcind to speak of us as mere
acquaintancL'S of Mr. I\Iillar. Of course, he would not speak
of her everywhere ; and you must permit me to say you are
a little unreasonable, not to say cross." And Rose smiled ver}'
sweetly on him as she spoke.

Harry did look cross, and Charlie looked astonished.
Graeme did not understand it.

•a^

if'

' •*„

«»

472

JANET 8 LOVE AifD SERVICE.

m ■

'::i:

till

"Was that young Roxbuiy I saw you driving with the
other day ? " asked Arthur. " lie is going into business, I
hear."

" It was he," said Cliarhe. "As to liis going into business,
I cannot say. Ho is quite young yet. He is not of age.
Are you going, HaiTy ? It is not very late yet."

They did not go immediately, but they did not have much
pleasure after that. Rose was very hvely and amusing, and
tried to propitiate Harry, Graeme thought, but she was not
quite sui"e ; there were a good many allusions to events and
places and persons that she did not miderstand, and nothing
could be plainer than that she did not succeed. Then they
had some music. Rose sat at the piano till they went away,
placing pieces long, loud, and intricate ; and, after they went
away, she sat down again, and played on still.

" WTiat put Harry out of sorts to-night ? " asked Arthur.

" Was he out of sorts ? " asked Graeme, a little anxiously.

Rose laughed.

" I shall have to give Harry some good advice," said she ;
and that was the last word she said, till she said "good
night."

"There is something wrong," said Graeme to herself,
"though I am sure I cannot tell what it is. In old times,
Rosie would have burst forth with it all, as soon as we came
up stairs. But it is nothing that can trouble her, I am sure.
I hope it is nothing that will trouble her. I will not fret
about it before hand. We do not know our troubles from
our blessings at first sight. It ought not to be less easy to
trust for my darling than for myself. But, oh ! Rosie, I am
afiaid I have been at my old folly, dreaming idle dreans

again.

iijiPi'

:li

91 I

III I

CHAPTER XXXIX

/^ TIAEIVIE had rejoiced over her sister's return, " hoaii-
\J{~ tree and fancy-free," rather more than was reasonable,
seeing that the danger to her freedom of heaii and fancy was
as great at home as elsewhere, and, indeed, inevitable any-
where, and, under certain circumstances, desfruble, as well.
A very little thmg had disturbed her sense of security bef(3re
many weelts were over, and then, amid the mingling of anxiety
and hope which followed, she could not but fool how vain and
foolish her fooling of security hiid been. It was the look that
had come into Charlie Millar's face one day, as his eye fell sud-
denly on the face of "Rose, (iraeme's heart gave a sudden throb
of pam and doubt, as she saw it, for it told her that a change
was coming over their quiet hfe, and her own experience made
it seem to her a change to be cfreaded.

There had been a gi'eat snow-shoe race going on that day,
inwliich they were all supposed to be much interested, because
Master Albert Grove was one of the ruimers, and had good
hope of winning a silver medal which was to be the prize of
the foremost in the race. Graeme and Rose had come with his
little sisters to look on, and Rose had gi'own as eager and
dolightod as the children, and stood there quite luiconscious
of the admiration in Charlie's eyes, and of the shock of })ain
that thrilled at her sister's heart. It was more than admira-
tion that Graeme saw in his eyes, but the look passed, and he
made no movement t'irough the crowd toward tlieni, and
everything was just as it had been befcn-e, excei)t that the
thought had come into Graeme's mind, and could not quite
be forgotten again.

After that the time still went quietly on, and Charlie came
(473)

i-l

■!:^^r

«» '' i;;

474

JANET H LOM: and SERVICE.

and went, and was wclconieil as before ; but Graeme lookin'^'
on liim now with onlinliteiif'(l eyes, saw, or thought she saw,
more and more dearly every day, the secret that ho did not
seem in haste to utter. And cveiy day she saw it with less
pain, and waited, at last, glad and woudeiing, for the time
when the lover's word sliould change her sister's shy and
Homewhat stately courtesy into a fi'ank accei^tancc of what
could not but be precious, Graeme thought, though still un-
known or miacknowlcdged. And then the mention of ^\jny
Itoxbuiy's name, and the talk that followed, startled her into
the knowledge that she had been dreaming.

" Rose," said she, after they had been up stairs for some
time, and were about to separate for the night, " what was
the matter with Harry this evening ? "

" What, indeed ? " said Eoso, laughuig. " He was quite
out of sorts about sometliing."

" I did not think he knew the Eoxbiuys. He certainly
has not known them long," said Graeme.

" No, not very long — at least, not jMiss Amy, who has only
just retmiied home, you know. But I think she was not at
the root of his trouble; at least, not directly. I thmk he has
found out a slight mistake of his, with regard to ' liis friend
and partner.' That is what vexed him," said Rose.

" I don't know what you mean '? " said Graeme, gravely.
" I sliould think Harry could hardly be seriously mistaken in
his friend by this tune, and certainly I should not feel inclined
to laugh at him."

" Oh ! no. Not eerioushj mistaken ; and I don't think he
was so much vexed at the mistake, as tliat I should know it,"

" I don't understand yon," said Graeme.

" It does not matter, Graeme. It will all come out right, I
daresay. Harry was vexed because he saw that I was
laughing at him, and it is just as well that he should be
teased a little."

" Rose, don't go yet. What is there between you and
Harry that I don't know about ? You would not willingly
make me unhappy, Rose, I am sui'e. Tell me bow you have

JANET S I.OVE AND SERVICE.

175

vexed each other, dear. I noticed it to-night, and I have
several times noticed it before. Tell me all about it, Rose."

"There is nothing to tell, Graeme, indeed. I was very
much vexed with Hariy once, but I daresay there was no
need for it. Graeme, it is silly to rejDeat it," added Rose,
reddening.

"There is no one to hear but me, dear."

" It was all nonsense. Harry took it hito his head that I
had not treated his fiiend well, when he was out West, at
Norman's, I mean. Of course, we could not fall into home
ways during his short visit there ; everj-thing was so differ-
ent. But I was not ' high and mighty' w ith him, as HaiTy
declared afterwards. He took ine to task, sharply, and ac-
cused me of flirting, and I don't know what all, as though
that would help his fiiend's cause, even if his friend had
cared about it, which he did not. It a\ as very absurd. I
cannot talk about it, Graeme. It was all Hariy's fancy.
And to-night, when Mr. Millar spoke so admiringly of Amy
Roxbui'y, Harry was n't pleased, because ho knew I remeni-
bered what he had said, and he knew I was laughing at him.
And I fancy he admires the pretty httle thing, himself. It
would be gi'eat fun to see the dear fi lends turn out rivals,
would it not ? " said Rose, laughing.

" But that is all nonsense, Rose."

" Of course, it is all nonsense, from begining to end.
That is just what I think, and what I have been saying to
you. So don't let us say or think anything more about it.
Good-night."

" Good-night. It will all come right, I daresay ;" and
Graeme put it out of her thoughts, as Rose had bidden her
do.

After this, Harry was away for a while, and they saw less
of Mr. INIillar, because of his absence, Graeme thought. He
must have more to do, as the busy time of the coming and
gomg of the ships was at hand. So their days passed very
quietly, with only common pleasures to mark tliciu, but they
were haj^py days for all that; and Graeme, seeing her sister's

lit

>-' • ■ ■ ; If

Hf*

X' :•■

iti

476

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

half-veiled pleasure wlicn Churlie came, and only half con-
Kcious iiiipationce \vlien ho stayed away, smiled to herself
as she repeated, "It will all come right."

It was a fair April day ; a little colder than April days are
generally supposed to be, but bright and still — just the day
for a long walk, all agreed ; and Rose went up-stairs to pre-
pare to go out. singing out of a light heart as she went.
Graeme hastened to finish something that she had in her
hand, that she might follow, and then a visitor came, and before
Rose came down with her hat on, another came ; and the
one that came last, and stayed longest, was their old friend,
and Ham's aversion, Mrs. Gridley. Rose had reconciled
herself to the loss of her walk, by this time, and hstened
amused to the various subjects discussed, laying up an item
now and then, for Hand's special benefit. There was variety,
for this was her first visit for a long time.

After a good many interesting excursions among the
affairs of their friends and neighbors, she brought them back
in her pleasant way to their own.

" By the by, is it true that young Roxbmy is gomg into
business with Mr. Millar and your brother ? "

** We have not been infoimed of any such design," said
Rose.

" Your brother is away just now, is he not ? ^Vill he re-
turn ? Young men who have done business elsewhere, are
rather in the habit of calling our city slow. I hope your
brother Harry does not. Is yoimg Roxbury to take his place
in the fii*m, or are all three to be together ? *'

" Hany does not make his busmess arrangements the sub-
ject of conversation very often," said Graeme, gravely.

"He is quite right," said IVIrs. Gridley. " And I daresay,
young Roxbury would not be a great acquisition to the firm,
though his father's money might. However, some of that
may be got in a more agreeable way. Mr. Millar is doing
his best, they say. But, Amy Roxbury is little more than a
diild. Still some very foohsh marriages seem to turn out

JANET 8 LOVE AND SICRVICE.

477

^ half con-
to herself

il days are
ist the dtiy
rs to pre-
she went,
lad in her
and before
; and the
old friend,
reconciled
d hstened
Lip an item
as variety,

,niong the
them back

jomg into

sign," said

Till he re-
where, are
lope your
e his place

is the sub-
tly.
I daresay,

the firm,
ne of that
' is doing
)re than a

turn out

very well. Am I not to scq INIrs. Elliott, to-day ? She is a
veiy devoted mother, it seems."

" She would have been happy to see you, if she had been
at home."

" And she is quite well again ? What a relief it must bo
to you," said Mrs. Gridley, amiably. "And you are all
quite happy together ! I thought you were going to stay at
the West, Eose?"

"I could not bo spared any longer; they could not do with-
out me."

" And are you going to keep house for Harry, at Elphin-
stone house, or is Mr. Millar to have that '? "

And so on, till she was tu'ed, at last, and went away.

" What nonsense that woman talks, to be sure ! " said Rose.

'Worse than nonsense, I am afraid, sometimes," said
Graeme. " Really, Han-y's ten'or of her is not sm'prising.
Nobody seems safe from her tongue."

"But don't let us lose our walk, altogether. We have
time to go round the square, at any rate. It is not late,"
said Rose.

They went out, leaving, or seeming to leave, all thought of
Mrs. Gridley and her news behind them. They met Fann}'
returning home, before they had gone far down the street.

"Come with us, Famiy. Baby is all right. Are you
tired ? " said Rose.

" No, I am not tired. But is it not ahnost dinner time ?
Suppose we go and meet Arthur."

'* Well — only there is a chance of missing him ; and it is
much nicer up toward S. street. However, we can go home
that way. There will be time enough. How delightful the
fresh air is, after a whole day in the house ! "

" And after Mrs. Gridley," said Graeme, laughing.

"Have 3'ouliad Mrs. Gridley?" said Fanny.

" Yes, and columns of news, but it will keep. Is it net nice
to be out 1 I would like to borrow that child's skipping rope,
and go up the street as she does."

I if

478

JANET ti LOVE AND SKRVICE.

ll'

Fanny laughed. " Would n't all the people be amazed ?
Tell mo what news ^Ir.s. Giidley gave you."

Hose went over a great many items, very fast, and very
merrily.

" iVll that, and more besides, which Graeme will give you,
if you are not satisfied. There is your husband, i nope he
may be glad to see us all."

" If he is not, he can go home by himself."

Arthur professed himself dolightcd, but suggested the pro-
priety of their coming one at a time, after that, so that the
pleasure might last hmgor.

"Very Avell, one at a time be it," said Rose. "Come,
Fanny, he thinks it possible to have too much of a good
thing. Let him have Graeme, to-night, and we will take caro
of ourselves."

They went away together, and Arthur and Graeme follow-
ed, and so it happonel tint Graeme had lost sight of her sister,
when she saw something that brought some of Mrs. Grid-
ley's words unpleasantly to her mind. They had turnctl into
S. street, which was giy with c.ii*riagos, and with people rid-
ing and walking, and the others were at a dist.'uice before
them under the trees, when Arthur spoke to some one, and
looking up, she saw ^liss Roxbui-y, on horseback, and at her
side rode IMi*. Millar. She was startled, so startled that she
quite forgot to return ]\Iiss Roxbury's bow and smile, and had
gone a good way down the street before she noticed that her
brother was speaking to her. He was saying something
ftbout the possible admission of young Rc^xbmy into the new
firm, apropos of the encounter of Mr. ^Millar and Amy.

" HaiTy is very close about his afiau's, said Graeme, \\ith
a little vexation. " ISIi's. Gridley gave us that among other
pieces of news, to-day. I am not sure that I did not deny it,
decidedly. It: is rather a\\kward when all the town knows
of our affairs, before we know them ourselves."

"Awkward, indeed!" said Arthur, laughing. "But then
this partnership is hardly our affair, and Mrs. Gridley is not

JANKT t^ Lovi; AM) >r.uvici:.

471)

.! i ■•

all the towT., tliouf:,'h sho is not to be lii^litlil'uMl, v/licn' ihc
spreailinf,' of ncNVH i.s concoi'iicd ; and slio tells thiii;^s hi-foro
thoy happen, it sooms, for this is not scttk'il, yet, and may
never bo. It would do well for some thin;;^s."

But Gruenio could not listen to this, ortv> anything' else, just
then. She was wondering whether lloso had seen ('haries
Millar and Miss Roxbury, and hopinfj sho had not. And
then she considered a moment whether she mij^dit not ask
Artlnu' to say nothiiif,'' al)out meeting them ; but she could
not do it without making it seem to herself that she was be-
traying her sister. And yet, how foolish such a thought was;
for Rose had nothing to betray, sho said, a little anxiously,
to herself. Sho repeated it more lirmly, however, when tlu^y
came to the corner of the street where Fanny ai.;i Rose wta'o
waiting for them, and laughing an.d talking merrily together.
If Roso felt any vexation, sho hid it well. .

"I will ask Fanny whom they met. No, I will not." ; aid
Graeme, to herself, again. " A\'hy should Rose cmvc It is
only I who nave been foolish. They have kno\.n each other
so !-^ng, it would have happened long ago, if it had been to
happen. It would have been, verj' nice for some things.
And it might have been, if Rose had cared for him. Ho
cared for her, I am quite sure. Who Avould not ? But sho
does not care for him. I hope she docs not care for him.
Oh ! I could not go through all that again ! Oh, my dai-hng,
my darhng ! "

It was growing dark, happily, or her face might have be-
trayed what Graeme was thmking. She started a little when
her sister said,

" Graeme, do j'ou flunk it would be extravagant in me to
wish for a new velvet jacket ? "

" Not vciy extravagant just to wish for one," said Graeme,
dubiously. Rose laughed.

"I might as well wish for a gown, too, while I am wishing,
I suppose, you think. No, but I do admire those httle
jackets so much. I might cut over my winter one, but it

'[ ii

480

Janet's lovp: and service.

mi.

ffilfll'

I^M:

B'^'''ffl

■ "i4,^9

Pff

' * fw

•

ii ^

1 '' '

ii'

IIE

iij'

if If 1

li'

K 1

would be a waste of material, and something lighter and less
expensive would do. It would n't take mueli, they are worn
so small. "\Vh;^t do you think about it, Graeme?"

"If you can afford it. They are very pretty, certainly."
" Yes, are they not ? But, after all, I daresay I am foolish
to wish for one."

" Why, as to that, if you have set your heart on one, I
daresay we can manage it between us."

" Oh ! as to setting my heart on it, I can't quite say that.
It is not wise to set one's heart on what one is not sure of
getting — or on things that perish with the using — which is
emphatically tme of jackets. This one has faded a great
deal more than it ought to have done, considermg the cost,"
added she, looking gi'avely down at her sleeve.
There was no time for more.

" Here we are," said Famiy, as the}^ all came up to tho
door. "How pleasant it has been, and how much longer
the days are getting. We will all come to meet you again,
dear. I only hope baby has been good."

" She did not see them," said Graeme, to herself, " or she
does not care. If she had seen them she woiild have said
so, of course, unless — . I will watch her. I shall see if there
is any difference. But she cannot hide it fi'om me, if she is
vexed or troubled. I am quite sure of that."

If there was one among them that night more silent than
usual, or less cheerful, it certainlj'^ was not Rose. She was
just what she alwaj's was. She was not hvely and talkative,
as though she had anj'thing to hide ; nor did she go to the
jiiano, and play on constantly and noisily, as she sometimes
did when she was vexed or impatient. She was ju.st as usual.
She came into Graeme's room and sat down for a few
minutes of quiet, just as she usually did. She did not stay
very long, but she did not hurry away as though she wished
to be alone, and her mind was full of the velvet jacket still,
it seemed, though she did not speak quite so eagerly about it
as she had done at first. Still it was an important matter,
beyond all other matters for the time, and when she went

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE,

481

and less
arc worn

ainly."
,in foolisli

on one, I

s say that.
)t sure of
-wliicli is
d a great
the cost,"

up to tho
ich longer
you agam,

If,

or she

have said

see if there

e, if she is

silent than
She was

d talkative,

o-o to the

sometimes

st as usual.

for a few

lid not stay
she wished
jacket still,

)rly aboiit it

|ant matter,
m she went

away she laughingly confessed that she ought to be ashamed
to care so much about so small a matter, and Ijeggcd her
sister not to think her altogether vain and foolish. And then
Graeme said to herself, again, tb*it Rose did not care, she was
quite sure, and very glad and thankful.

Glad and thankful ! Yet, Graeme watched her sister next
day, and for many days, with eyes which even Fanny could
see were wistful aiid anxious. Hose did not see it, or she
did not say so. She was not sad in the least degree, j-ct not
too cheerful. She was just as usual, Graeme assm'od herself
many times, when anxious thoughts would come ; and so she
was, as far as any one could see.

"When Mr. Millar called the first time after the night when
Graeme had met him with Miss Rosburv, Rose was not at
home. He had seen her going into the house next door, as
he was coming up the street, he told Mrs. EDiott, when she
wondered what had become of her. She did not come in till
late. She had been beguiled into playing and singing any
number of duets and trios with the young Gilberts, she sai( I,
and she had got a new song that would just suit Famiy's
voice, and Fanny must come and try it. And then she
apj)caled to Ai'thur, whether it was a proper thing for his
wife to give up all her music except nursery rhymes, and
carried her in triumph to the piano, where thej' amu' ('d
themselves till baby wanted mamma. She was just r.s
friendly as usual with ]Mi\ Millar during the short time lie
staid after that — rather more so, perhaps, for she reminded
him of a book which he had promised to brmg and had for-
gotten. He brought it the very next night, but Ros(\ un-
happily, had toothache, and could not come <lown. She was
not "making believe," Graeme assured herself, when she
went up stairs, for her face was flushed, and her hands were
hot, and she paid a visit to the dentist next morning. In a
day or two Harry came home, and IMr. Millar came and went
with him as usual, and was very quiet and grave, as had come
to be liis way of late, and to all appearance everything went
on as beftu'c.

m i

fwr'

^li

482

JANKT S LOVI-: AND SKKVICE.

!>■, i

"Graeme," said I'aniiy, confidentially, one niglit when all but
Rose were sitting together, "I sa^\■ the jirrflir-f velvet jacket
to<lay ! . It was trimmed in (juite a new style, quite simjJy,
too. I asked the priee."

" And were astonished at its cheapness," said Ham*.

" For baby, I suppose ? " said Arthur.

*' For baby ! A velvet jacket ! "NVhat are you thinking of,
Ai'tlnu' V " said Fanny, answering her husband first. "No,
Harry, I was not astonished at the cheapness. But it was a
beauty, and not veiy dear, considering."

" And it is for baby's mamma, then," said Arthur, making
beheve to take out his pocket book. Fanny shook her head.

"I have any immber of jackets," said she.

" But, then, j'ou have worn them any numljer of times,"
said Hany.

"They arc as good aFJ nc^vv, but eld fasiiioned? Eh,
Fanny ? " said her husband.

" Three weeks behind the latest style," said HaiTv.

*• Nonsense, Arthur! What do you know about jackets,
Harry ? But, Graeme, Rosie ought to have it. You know
she wants one so much."

"She spoke about it, I know ; but I don't think she
really cares for one. At any rate, she has made up her
mmd to do without one."

" Of com'se, it would be foolish to care about what she
could not got," said Fanny, wisely. " But she would like it,
all the same, I am siu'e."

The velvet jacket had been discussed between these two
with much interest ; but Rose had given up all thought of
it with great apparent reluctance, and nothing had Ixicn
said about it for some days. Judging from what her o\vn
feelings would have been in similar circumstances, Fanny
doubted the sincerity of Rose's resignation.

"I beUeve it is that which has been vexing her lately,
though she says nothing," contiiiued she.

" Vexing her," repeated Graeme. " What do you mean,
Fanny ? What have you seen ? "

JANET S LOVE AXD SEUVICE.

483

a all but
;t jacket
; simi)ly,

ry-

liking of,

t. '^ No,

it was a

■, making
bcr head.

j{ times,"

2(1? Eh,

•y.

lit jackets,

ion know

Lhiiik she
Ic up her

what she
lid like it,

thersc two
lought of
had l>ecn
t her own
c«, Fanny

ber hitcly,

voii mean,

**0h! I ha\G seen nothing that you have not seen as well.
But I know 1 should bo vexed if I wanted a velvet jacket,
and could noL get it ; at least. I should Lave been when I
was a young gui hkc Rose," added Fanny, with the gentle
tolerance of a young matron, who has seen the folly of girlish
wishes, but docs not care to bo hard on them. The others
laughed.

" And even later than that — till baby came to bring you
wisdom," said her husband.

" And it would be nice if Rosic could have it before the
Convocation," continued Fanny, not heeding him. "It
would just bo the thing with her new hat and gray poplin."

"Yes," said (traeme, *"but I don't think Rosic would enjoy
it unless she felt that she could quite well aflbrd it. I don't
really think she cares about it much."

" I know what you iiieau, Graeme. She would not hkc me
to interfere about it, you think. But if Arlhur or Harry
would have the sense to make her a present of it, just be-
cause it is prett}' and fashionable, and not because she is sui>
posed to war.t it, and without any hint from you or me, that
would be nice."

" Upon my word, Fanny, you are growing as wise as your
mamma," said Harry. "A regular manager."

Fanny pouted a little, for she knew that her mamma's
wisdom and management were not admired. Graeme hast-
ened to interfere.

" It is ver}^ nice of you to care so nmch about it, Fanny.
You know Rose is very determined to make her means cover
her expenses ; but still if, as you say, Harry should suddenly
be smitten with admiration for the jacket, and present it to
her, perhaps it might do. I am not sure, however. I have
my misgivings."

And not without reason. Rose had an allowance, liberal
enough, but not too hl)oral ; not so liberal but tliat taste,
and skill, and care were needed, to enable her to look as
nice as she liked to look. But more tlian once she had
failed to express, or to feel gratitude to Fanny, in her attemijts

l< '■

4R4

JAXET fi I.OVK AM) SKKVICE.

'!! f

to Tiiako it Oiisicr for her, either bv an appeal to her brothers,
or by drawing on licr own moans. Even from Graeme, she
would only acce[)t temporary assistance, and» rather prided
herself on the little shifts and contrivances by which she
made her own means g;o to the utmost hmit.

But there was no difTiculty this time. It all happened
naturally enough, and Rose thanked Harry with more
warmth than was nec^csssary, in his opinion, or, indeed, in the
opinion of Graeme.

"I saw one on IMiss Roxbury," said Harry, "or, I ought to
say, I saw Miss Roxbuiy wearing one ; and I thought it look-
ed very well, and so did Charlie."

" Oh !" Kaid Rose, with a long breath. " But then you
know Harry, dear, that I cannot pretend to such stylo as
]\Iiss Roxburj . I am afraid you will be disappointed in my
jacket,"

" You want me to compliment you, Rosie. You know you
are a great deal prettier than little Amy Roxbury. Bnt she
is very sweet and good, if you would only take pams to know
her. You would win her heart directly, if you were to try."

" But then I should not know what to do with it, if I were
to win it, unless I were to give it away. And heai*ts are of
no value when given by a third person, as nobody should
know better than yon, Hany, dear. But I shall do honor to
your taste all the same ; and twenty more good brothers
shall present jackets to grateful sisters, seeing how well I look
in mine. It is very nice, and I thank you, very much."

But she did not look as though she enjoyed it very much,
Graeme could not help thinking.

" Of course, she did not really care much to have it. She
does not need to make herself fine. I daresay she will en-
joy wearing it, however. It is well she can enjoy something
else besides finery."

They all went to the Convocation, and Rose wore her new

jacket, and her gi-ey jwplin, and looked beautiful, the rest

thought. The ladies went early with Arthur, but he was

called away, and it was a little tedious wailiii^'-, or it would

JANKT 8 LOVK AND SERVICE.

4sn

L-othcra,

mc, slie

prided

ich slio

appcned
\i more
id, intlio

ought to
it it look-

;licn you

stylo as

ted in my

know you
Bnt she
IS to know
I'o to try."
if I were
rts are of
»dy should
y honor to
brothers
well I look
ich."
cry much,

ro it. She
}he wiU en-
something

L-e her new
ul, the rest
)ut he waa
or it would

have been, only it was very amusing to see ho many peoi:)lo
coming in, all dressed in tlieii* new spring jittm\ Faiiny en-
joyed this part of the affair, Vv^ry much, and Hose said she
enjoyed it, too, quite as much as any part of the affair ; and,
by and by, Fuimy whispered that there was Harry, with Miss
Roxbury.

" I thought Harry was not coming," said she.

" I suppose, ho was able to get away after all," said Graeme,
and she looked round for Mr. IMillar. Ho was not to be
seen, but by and by Harry came round to them, to say that
there were several seats much bettor than theirs, that had
been reserved for the Roxbury party, because Mr. Roxbury
had something to do with the College, and ]Mrs. Roxliury
wanted them to come round and take them, before they were
filled.

"Oh! how charming!" said Rose. "If we only could.
We should be quite among the great people, then, which is
what I delight in."

" I thought you were not coming, Harry," said Graeme.

" I was afraid I could not get away, but I made out to do
so. — No, not at Charlie's expense. There he is now, speak-
ing to IMrs. Roxbuiy, and looking about for us, I daresay."

"Well, Fanny, you go on with Harry, and Graeme and I
will follow," said Rose. "It would not do to separate, I sup-
pose? Are you sure there is room for all, Harry?"

" Quito sure. No fear ; wo will make room."

So HaiTy gave his arm to Fanny, and Graeme rose to fol-
low them, though she would much rather have staid where
she wafj. When she reached the other end of the long hall,
she turned to look for her sister, but Rose had not moved.
She could not catch her eye, for her attention was occupied
by some one who had t^ken the seat beside her. and Graeme
could not linger without losing sight of Harry and Fanny.
for the people were crowding up, now, and only the seats set
apart for the students were left vacant. So she was obliged
to hasten on.

I will send Harry back for her," said Graeme, to herself.

((

486

.TAXr.Tfl LOVE AND SERVICE.

" Or, perhaps, when Arthur returns, she will cross the htiU
witli Lim. AVo have made a very foolish move for all con-
coruod, I think. But Rosie secmecl to like the idea, and I
did not care. I only hope we arc not separated for the whole
allair."

But separated for the whole affair they Avere. Arthur re-
turned, but it was not easy for him to get through the crowd
to the place where he had left his wife and sisters, and when
he reached it, he saw that it would not be easy to get away
again. So as he could see and hear very well where he was,
and as Rose seemed quite satisfied with her place, and with
the companionship of her little friend, Miss Etta Goldsmith,
he contented himseK where he was.

Miss Goldsmith had come to town to see her brother take
his diploma as doctor of medicine, and she was in a fever
of anxiety till " dear Dick," had got his precious bit of parch-
ment in his hands. And after that, till he had performed his
duty as orator of his class, and had bidden farewell to each and
all, in English so flowing and flowery, that she was amazed, as
well as delighted, and very gi'atcf iil to his classmates for the ap-
plause, which they did not spare. Rose sat beside the eager
little girl, so grave and pale, by contrast, perhaps, that Arthur
leaned over, and asked her if she were ill, or only very tired
of it all. Then she brightened.

" There is a great deal more of it, is there not ? I must
not be tired yet. Why don't you find your way over to Fanny
and Graeme ? "

" Where are they ? Ah ! yes, I see them over there among
the great folks — and Harry, too, no less, and his fi-iend and
partner. And that bonny httlo Amy is not far away, I '11
ventui'e to say. No. I shall stay where I am for the
present." *

Miss Goldsmith did not feel bound to be specially inter-
ested in anybody or anything, except her big brother and his
bit of parchment. And so, when he had given her a nod and
a smile, as he came do\Mi fi'om the dais, crumpling his papers
in his big hands, she was ready to look about and enjoy her-

JANETS I.ovi: AND SERVICE.

48^

tho htiU
all con-
!a, and I

lie whole

rthur rc-
le crowd
Qd when
jet away
! he was,
md with
•Idsmith,

her take
I a fever
of parch-
rmed his
each and
lazed, as
)r the a]>
he eager
t Arthur
ry tJred

I must
|o Fanny

among
lend and
lav, I'll

I for the

ly inter-
land his
lod and
papers
Ijoy her-

self. And to the unaccustomed eyes of the country girl,
there -waH a great deal worth seeing.

" How beautifully the ladies are dressed ! How pretty tho
spring fashions are ! I feel like an old dowdy ! "Who is that
lady in blue ? AMiat a love of a hat ! And youi* jacket ! It
is a beauty ! "

It was through such a running fire of questions and excla-
mations that Rose listened to all that was going on. There wa.'L-
a good deal more to be said, for the law students were ad-
di'cssed by a gentleman, whose boast it seemed to be, that he
had once been a law student himself. Then they had some
Latm muttered over them, and their heads tapped by the
Principal, and some one else gave them then* bits of parch-
ment, and then thck orator spoke their farewell m flowing
and flowery EngUsh. And " will it eyer be done ? " thought
Rose, with a sigh.

It was not "just the thing," all this discMssion of hats and
fashions ; but little Miss Goldsmith spoke very softly, and dis-
tm'bed no one, breathed her questions almost, and Rose
answered as silently, with a nod, or a smile, or a tm'n of the
eye ; and, at any rate, they ^-scre not the only people who
were thus taldng refuge from the dullness of the Dean, and
the prosing of the Chancellor, Rose thought to hers.elf, as she
glance<l about. iVrthur whispered that the Chancellor sur-
passed himself on the occasion, and that even the Dean was
not very j^rosy, and Rose did not dissent, but she looked as
if it was all a wcarmess to her. She brightened a httle when
it wcts all over, and they rose to go.

"Go and find Fami}' and Graeme,'' said she to her brother.
" Dr. Goldsmith will take care of his sister and me."

Dr. Goldsmith was nothing loth, and Rose was so engaged
in offering her congi'atulations, and in listening to his repHes,
and in responding to tho greetings of her many friends as she
came down mto the hall, that she did not notice that Graeme
and Mr. IMillar Avero waiting for her at the head of the stairs.
There was a little delay at the uter door, where tliere were
many can'iages waiting. The Roxbury caniage was among

:^i

' ■ I

! : '

;

'1 '^

1 ^

II l>

488

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

the rest, and Miss Eoxbui*y was eittinj,' in it, though Eoso
coiUtl not help thinking she looked as though she Avoiild nnich
rather have walked on with the rest, as Harry was so bold
as to propose. They were waiting for ]Mr. Roxbiuy, it
seemed, and our party lingered over thcii* last words.

" I will walk on with the Goldsmiths. I have sometliing
to say to Etta," said Eose, and before Graeme could expostu-
late, or, indeed, answer at all, she was gone. The can-iage
passed them, and Miss Koxbury leaned forward and bowed
and smiled, and charmed Miss Goldsmith with her pretty
manner and perfect hat. In a httlc, Harry overtook them.
Eoso presented him to IMiss Goldsmith, and walked on with
the Doctor. At the gate of the college grounds, their ways
separated.

"Mr. ElMott," said IVIiss Goldsmith, "yoiu' sister has al-
most promised to come and visit us when I go home. I do
so want papa and mamma to see her. Brother Dick goes
home to-morrow, but I am going to stay a day or two, and
then I want Eose to go with me. Do try and persuade ]Miss
EUiott to let her go."

Harry promised, with more politeness than sincerity, say-
ing he had no doubt Graeme would be happy to give Eose
the pleasm'e, and then they got away.

" Papa, and mamma, and brother Dick. I declare it looks
serious. Wliat are you meditating, now, Eosie, if I may
ask ? ■•'

" My dear Harry, if you think by chaff to escape the scold-
ing you know you deserve, you will find yourself mistaken.
The idea of your taking Graeme and Fanny away, and leaving
iiic there by myself ! I don't know what I should have done
if Arthur had not come back. To be sure I had Etta Gold-
smith, who is a dear little thing. I don't thinlc her big bro-
ther is so very ugly if he had n't red hau\ And he must be
clever, or he would not have been permitted to make that
speech. His papa and mamma must be dehghted. But it
was

shabby of you, Harry, to go and leave me alone
■was it not, Arthur ? "

very

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

489

igli Roso
iild much
3 so bold
xbm-y, it
s.

iometliing
1 expostu-
) carriage
nd bowed
ler pretty
3ok them,
d on with
their ways

:cr has al-
me. I do
Dick goes
•r two, and
suade IVIiss

ierity, say-
ffive Rose

ire it looks
if I may

the scold-
mistaken.
Lnd leaving
I have done
Etta Gold-
br big bro-
le must be
Imake that
But it
le alone ;

" But, you might have come, too," said Fanny. " I thought
you were following us."

" And so did I," said Graeme.

" Well, dear little Etta Goldsmith pounced upon mo the
moment you left, and then it was too late. I did not feel
sufficiently strong-minded to elbow my way through the crowd
alone, or I might have followed you."

"I did not miss you at first," said Harry, "and then I
wanted Charlie to go for you, but "'

" He very properly refused. Don't excuse yourself, Harry.
And I had set my heart on comparing jackets with Miss
Roxbury, too."

" Why did you not stay and speak to her at the doer,
then ? " said Harry, who had rather lost his presence of mind
under liis sister's reproaches. He had hurried after her, fully
intending to take her to task for being so stiff and distant,
and he was not prepared to defend himself.

" Wliy did n't you wait and speak to her at the door ? "

" Oh ! you know, I could not have seen it well then, as she
was in the carriage. It is very awkward looking up to car-
riage people, don't you think ? And, besides, it would not
have been quite polite to the Goldsmiths," added she, severe-
ly. "You know they befiiended mo when I was left alone."

" Befriended you, indeed. I expected every minute to seo
your feather take fii*e as he bent his red head do^^^l over it.
I felt like giving him a beating," said Harry, savagely. Rose
lauglied merrily.

"My dear Harry! You couldn't do it. Ho is so much
bigger than you. At least, he has greater weight, as the
fighting people say."

" But it is all nonsense. Rose. I don't like it. It looked
to me, and to otlier people, too, very much like a flirtation on
your part, to leave the rest, and go away with that big —

big "

" Doctor," suggested Rose.

"And we shall have all the town, and INIrs. Gridley, telling

us next, that you "

'21*

'.t

111!:

nil

i M

'; iM^

N-

490

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

*' HiUTv, dear, I always know when I hear you mention
]Mi's. (lri(ll(>v's name, that y(ju are bct'ouiui':' incoherent. /
leave i/nu ! (^uite the contrary. And please don't use that
nau^'hty word in connection with my name again, or I may
be (kiven to defend myself in a way that mi<,'ht not be agree-
able to }o\\. Dear me, I thought you were gi-owing to be
reasonable by this time. Don't let Graeme sec us ijuari'd-
ling."

" You look tii-ed, clear," said Graeme, as they went up stairs
together.

" Well, it was a little tedious, was it not ? Of course, it
would n't do to say so, you Imow. However, I got through
it pretty well, with little Etta's help. Did you enjoy the
Roxbiu'y party much ? "

"I kept wishing we had not separated," said Graeme.
" Oh ! yes, I enjoyed it. They asked us there to-night to
meet some nice people, they said. It is not to bo a jiarty.
HaiTy is to dine here, and go with us, and so is Mr. INIillar."

" It will be very nice, I daresay, only I am so very tired.
However, we need not decide till after diimer," said Rose.

After duiner she declared herself too sleepy for anything
but bed, and she had a headache, besides.*

" I noticed you looked quite pale this afternoon," said Ar-
thur. " Don't go if 5'ou are tired. Graeme, what is the use
of her going if she does not want to ?"

*' Certamly, she ought not to go if she is not well. But I
tliink you would enjoy this much better than a regular party ;
and we might come home early."

" Oh ! I enjoy regular parties only too well. I will go if
you wish it, Graeme, only I an afi'aid I shall not shine with
my usual brilliancy — that is all !"

"I hope you are really ill," sail Harry. "I mean, I hope
you are not just making believe to get rid of it."

" My dear Harry ! Why, in all the world, should I make be-
lieve, not well * to get rid of it,' as you so elegantly express it ?
Such gi'eat folks, too !"

" Harry, don't be cross," said Fanny. " I am sure I heard

jani:ts i.ovk and keuvick.

491

mention
crent. /

use Unit
or I may

bo agree-
ing to bo
s tiuim'cl-

t up stairs

course, it
t through
enjoy tho

Graemo.
:o-night to
lO a party,
r. [Miliar."
very tired.
1 Rose.

anything

said Ar-
is the use

But I

ar party ;

will go if
shine with

m, I hope

'. mate be-
ixpress it ?

re I heard

you say, a day or two Kinco, tlmt Rose was looking thin."

"Jliiny, dear!'' siiid Koso, \\ ith cft'usion, " giv(! me yom*
hand. I I'or;^^'^' .^"'"i 'dl the rest, for that special complhuont.
I have had liorrihlo fears lately that I was getting stout — niid-

dlo-aj'Cil loi^k

Ar<

(piito

suicore
sayng tliat, or :iro yon only making behove V"

" I did n't intend it as a compliment, I assure yon. I did n't
thhik you were looking very well."

"Did you not? Yv'luit wmdd you advise? Should I go
to the country ; or sliould I put myself imd<!r the doctors
care? Not our ]>ig fiieud, whom yon were going to beat,"
said Rose, laughing.

"I think you are a very silly girl," said Hairy, with
dignity.

'• You told mo that once before, do n't 3'ou remember ? And
I do n't think you arc at all polite, do you, Faimy ? Come
up stairs, (ira(nue, and I will dt) your haii*. It would not be
proper to let Harry go alone. Hois in a dreadful temper, is
ho not ?" And lloso made a pretence of being afraid to go
past him. " Mr. Millar, cannot you do or say something to
soothe y(mr friend and partner ?"

Harry might imderstand all this, but Graeme could not,
and she did not like this mood of Rose at all. However, she
was very quiet, as she dressed her sister's hair, and spoke of
the peoi)le they had seen in the afternoon, and of the ex-
ercises at the college, in her usual merry way. But she did
not wish to go out ; she was tired, and had a headache, listen-
ing to two or throe things at one tune, she said, and if Graeme
could only go this once without hoi-, she would be so glad.
Graemo did not try to persuade her, but said she must go to
bed, and to sleep at once, if she Avere left at home, and then
she went away.

She did not go very clicorfuUy. Slie had had two or three
glimpses of her sister's face, after she had gone to the other
side of the hall with Harry, before Miss Ci oldsmith had com-
menced her whispered confidences to Rose, and she had aeon
there a look which brought back her old misgivings that there

'!l|

492

JANKTri LOVi: AND SKUVIOF.

\:m

■J I

^vaH HomcthinfT troubliiif^f hor darliiipf. Sho was ncjt able to
put it away u^^ain. The foolLsli, ]i.>lit talk l)C't\\ eon lloso and
HaiTy did not tend to rc-assuro her, aiidwlK;;^ sho bade hor
sister f>'ood-niyht, it was all thsit hIio oould do )iot to show her
anxiety by her Avords. But she only said, " {jood-nif^'ht, and
j^o to 8loc[)," and tlien went down stairs with a heavy heart.
Sho wanted to speak with HaiTy about the sharp words that
had more than onec passed between him and lloso of late ;
but Mr. ]\Iillar walked with thcin, and hIio could not do so,
and it was with an anxious and preoct;upieLl mind that sho
entered IVIr. Roxbui^'s house.

Tho di'awing-room was very handsome, of ccjurso, Avith veiy
littlo to distinguish it from the many line rooms of her
friends. Yet when Graeme stood for a moment near tho
folding-doors, exchanging gi'cetinga with tho lady of tho
house, the remembrance of one time, when she had stood
there before, came sharply back to her, and, for a moment,
her heart grew hot with the angry pain and shame that had
throbbed in it then. It was only for a moment, and it was
not for herself. The pain was crossed by a tlu-ill of gladness,
for the more certain knowledge that came to her that for her-
self she was content, that she wished nothing changed in
her own life, that sho had outlived all that Avas to bo regret-
ted of that troubled time. She had known this before, and
the knowledge camo homo to her joyfully as sho stood there,
b;it it did not lighten her bui'den of dread of what might Ho
in the future for her sister.

It did not leave her all the evening. Sho watched tho
pretty, gentle Amy, flitting about among her father's guests,
AAitli a feeling Avliich, but for the guileless sweetness of the
girl's face, the innocent miconsciousnoss of every look and
movement, might have grown to bitterness at last. Sho
A\'atched her waj's and words with ]\Ir. ^Millar, Avishing, in her
look or manner, to sgo some demand for his admiratioi and
attention, that might excuse the Avaadering of his fanc}' from
Eoso. But sho Avatehed in vain. Amy Avas sweet and modest
v.'ith him as with others, more friendly and unreserved thaji

w I

t able to
Hose and
bade her
show her
lil^'lit, uiul
:ivy heart,
ords that
10 of liitc ;
lot do BO,
[ that she

, Avith veiy
us of her
■j near the
dy of tho
had stood
I moment,
5 that had
find it was
' gladness,
lat for hcr-
■hangcd in

be regret-
)efore, and
ood there,

might he

itched tho
's guests,
less of tho
look and
ast. She
hip-, in her
ratioi and
ancy from
lid modest
wed thau

JANET 3 LOVi: AND SERVK'K.

403

with most, perhaps, but sweet and modest, and unconscious,
still.

'•Slio is very hko Lily Elphhistono, is she not?" said her
brother Ilarrv in her car.

She started at his voice ; Ijut she did nr)t luni toward him,
or remove her eyes from tlu; young girl's face.

"She is ver}^ like Lily — in all things," said (rracme ; and
to hersilf slio added, " and she will steal the treasure from
my darling's life, as Lily stole it from mine — innocently and
unconsciously, butmevitably still — and fi'om HaiTy's, too, it
may be."

And, with a new pang, she turned to look at her brother's
face ; but HaiTV was no longer at her side. ]?.Ir. Millar was
there, and his eyes had been following hers, as Harry's had
been.

"She is very '/ect and lovely — veiy lilce Lily, is she not?"
ho whispercLl.

" Very like her," repeated Graeme, her eyes closing with a
momentary feeling of sickness.

" You are very thed of all this, I am afraid," said he.

" Very tired ! If Hany only would take me home !"

'• Shall I take you home '? At least, let me take you out of
the crowd. Have you suen Ibe new pictiu'e they are all talk-
ing about '? SLall I take you ujs stairs for a little while."

(iraemo rose and laid her hand on his arm, and went up
stairs in a dream. It was all ho like what had Ijcen before —
the lights, and the music, and the hum of voices, and the sick
pain at her heart ; only the pain was now for Eos(^, and so
much worse to bear. Still in a dream, she went fi'om pictm-o
to picture, listening and replyuig to she knew not what ; and
she sat down, with her eyes iixed on one beautiful, sad face,
and prayed vrith all her heart, for it A^-as Hosie's face that
looked down at her from the c.uivas ; it was liosie's sorrow
that she saw in those sweet, appealing eyes.

"Anything but this great sorrvjw,'' she was saying in her
heart, f jrgetting all else in tlie agony of her entreaty ; and her
companion, seeing her so moved, went softly away. Not

494

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

very fur, however. At the first sound of aiDproaching foot-
steps ho was at her side again.

"That is a very sad picture, I think,"' she said, coming
back with an effort to the present. " I have seen it once be-
fore."

CharHe did not look at the picture, but at her changing
face. An impulse of sj'mpathy, of admiration, of respect
moved him. Scarce knowing Avhat he did, he took her hand,
and, before he placed it within his arm, he raised it to his
lips.

"Miss Elliott," murmured he, " >/ou will never take j'our
fi'iendship fi'om me, whatever may happen V"

She was too startled to answer for a moment, and then
they were in the crowd again. "What was he thinking of !
Of Allan and the past, or of Rose and Amy and the futiu'e ?
A momentary indignation moved her, but she did not si:)eak,
and then httle Amy was looking up in her face, rather anx-
iously and wistfully, Graeme thought.

" You are not gouig away, Miss Elhott, are you ?" said she.

" I am very tired," said Graeme. " Oh ! here is my brother.
I am very sorry to take you away, Harry, but if you don't
mind much, I shoidd like to go home. Will you make my
adicux to your mother, IVIiss Roxbiuy? — No, please do not
come up stau's. I would much rather you thd not. Good
night."

" You might at least have been civil to the little thing,"
growled Hany, as she took his arm when they reached the
street. Graeme laughed.

"Civil !" she repeated and laughed again, a little bitterly.
"Oh! Ilarrv, dear! there are so many things that vou can-
not be supposed to know. But, nideed, I did not mean to bo
uncivil to the child."

" Then you were micivil without meaning it," said Han'v,
shaqily.

Graeme was silent a moment.

*' I do not choose to answer a charge like that," said she.

"I beg your pardon, Graeme, but — "

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

495

iching foot-

laicl, coming
it once be-
er changing
1, of respect
3k lior hand,
iecl it to his

31' take your

3nt, and then
thinking of.
clthefutm-e?
lid not speak,
e, rather anx-

u ?" said she.
s my brother.
|t if you don't
ou make my
liloase do not
\ not. Good

littk> thing,"
ly reached the

httle bitt(^rly.

Ithat you can-

)t mean to be

I" said Han-y,

It," said she.

Then

" HaiTy, hush ! I will not listen to you."

They did not speak again till they reached home,
Graeme said,

" I must say something to you, Hariy. Let us walk on a
little. It is not late. Hai'iy, what is the trouble between
you and Rose ?"

"Trouble!" repeated HaiT}', in amazement. "Do you
mean because she fancied herself left alone this afternoon ?"

"Of course I do not mean that. But more than once
lately you have spoken to each other as though you were
alluding to something of which I am ignorant — something
that must have happened when you were away fi'om home —
at the West, I mean — something which I have not been told."

" Graeme, I don't imderstand what j'ou mean. "What could
possibly have happened which has been concealed fi'om you ?
AMiy don't you ask Rose ?"

" Because I have not hitherto thought it necessary to ask
any one, and now I prefer to ask you. Harry, dear, I don't
think it is anything very seiious. Don't be impatient with
me."

" Has Rose been saying anything to you ?"

" Nothing that I have not heard you say youi'self. You
accused her once in my hearing of being too fond of admira-
tion, of — of flii-ting, in short — "

" My dear Graeme ! I don't think I ever made any such
assertion — at least in a way that you or Rose need to resent —
or complain of."

" Rose does not complain of it, she laughs at it. Hany,
dear, what is it? Don't you remember one night when some-
thing was said about ]\Irs. Gridlcy — no, don't be imj)aticiit.
Yqja were annoyed ■vvith Rose, then, and it was not about
anything that was said at the time, at least I thought not.
I don't wish to seem prying or inquisitive, but what concerns
Rose is a great matter to mo. She is more to mo than any
one."

"Graeme," said Harry, gravely, "you don't suppose that I
love Rose loss than you do. I think I Iniow what you mean,

^^.

■mui

yff'f

. f;

496

JANKTS LOVE AND SERVICE.

liowover. I annoyed her once by something I said a1x>ut
Charhe, but it was only for the moment. I am siu'c she does
not care about that now."

((

About Charlie !" repeated Graeme.

" Yes ; you did not know it, I suppose, but it was a serious
matter to Charhe when you and Rose went away that time.
He was hko a man lost. And I do believe she cared for him,
too — and I told him so — only she was such a cliilcL"

" You told him so !" rej)eated Graeme, in astonislmient.

"I could not help it, Graeme. The poor fellow wa.s in
such a Avay, so — so miserable ; and when he went West last
winter, it was more to see Rose than for anything else. But
ho came back quite downhearted. She was so much run after,
he said, and she was very distant with hun. Not^tliat he said
very much about it. But when I went out there afterwards,
I took her to task shai^ply about it."

" Hariy ! How could you ?"

" Very easily. It is a serious thing when a gu*l plays fast
and loose with a man's heart, and such a man as Charhe.
And I told her so roundly."

" And how did she take it ?" asked Graeme, in a maze Ijo
tween astonishment and vexation.

" Oh ! she was as high and mighty as possible, called my
interference rudeness and unpertinence, and walked out of
the room like an oflcnded princess — and I rather think I had
the worst of it," added Harry, laughing at the remembrance.
" But I don't bear malice, and I don't thmk Rose dues.",

" Of course, she does not. But Harry, dear, though I should
not call yoiu' interference impertinent in any bad sense, I
must say is was not a very wise thing to take her to task, as
you call it. I don't believe ]Mr. IMillar ever said a word to
her about — abont his fcehngs, and you don't suppose she was
going to confess, or allow you to scold her about — any one."
" Now, Graeme, don't bo missish ! * Never said a word I' —
"Why, a blind man might have seen it all along. I know we
all looked upon her as a child, but a woman soon knows
when a man cares for her."

JANI'.T S LOVF. AND SERVICE.

497

said aliout
e she docs

IS a serious
,' tliat time,
•cd for liiin,

isluaent.
How was in
it West last
T else. But
ch run after,
tliat he said
! afterwards,

ill plays fast
n as Charlie.

n a maze be-

lo, called my
liked out of
think I had
iiieinbrauec.
does.",
|ugh I should
|bad sense, I
r to task, as
,id a word to
(osc she was
t — any one."
a word '.' —
I know we
Koon knows

"No wise woman will aclai(nvlc(lr,'c it to anotlicr till .slio
has been told so in words ; at least she ou^lit 'lut," said
Gracino, gravely.

" Oh, well ! — th(^rc is no use talking". Perhaps I was fool-
ish ; but I love Charhe, dearly. I daresay Rose thinks her-
self too good for him, because ho docs not pretend to be so
wonderfully intellectual as some of her admii-ers do, and you
may agree with her. But I tell you, Graeme, Charlie is pm-e
gold. I don't know another that wih compare with him, for
everything pure and good and high-minded — unless it is our
own Will. ; and it is ^o long since wc have seen him, we don't
know how he may be changed by this time. Uut I c;ui swear
for Charlie. "

"You don't need to swear to me, HiU'iy. You know well
I have alwavs liked Charlie."

" V'eW, it can't bo helped now. Charlie has got over it.
Men do get over these tilings, tin )Ugh it doesn't seem possible
to them at tlio time," added Harry, meditaiively. "I was
rather afraid of Eosie's coming home, and I wanted Charlie
to go to St;otland, then, but he is all right now. Of course
you are not to suppose that I blame liose. Such things will
happen, and it is well it is no worse. It is the way with those
girls not to know or value true worth because they see it
every day."

" Poor Cliaiiie !" said Graeme, softly.

" Oh ! don't fret about Charlie. lie is all right noAv. Ho
is not the man to lose the good of his lifo because a silly girl
doesn't know her own mind. 'There's as good fish in the
sea,' you know. If you are going to be sorry for any one, let
it Ije for Rosic. She has lost a rare chance for happiness in
the love of a good niiin."

"But it may not he lost," murmured Graeme.

" I am afraid it is," said Harry, gravely. " It is not in
Rose to do justice to Charlie. ICven you don't do it, Graeme.
Because he lives just a common-place life, and buys and sells,
and comes and goes, like other men, you women have not the
discrimination to see that he is one of a thousand. As for

if I;"

} f-

'It.

hi '

fcl

IJH '

•*

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

Rose, with lior romance, and lier nonsense, she is looking for
a hero and a pahidin, and does not know a true heart when
it is laid at her fi3ct. I only hope she wont ' wait for the hats
till the bhie-bonnets go by,' as Janet used to say."

" As I have done, yon v*-ould like to add," said GracTne,
laughing, for her heart was gi'owing hght. "Antl liarrj^,
dear, Rosie never had anybody's heart laid at her feet. It is
you who are growing foolish and romantic, m your love for
youi' friend."

" Oh ! well. It does n't matter. She will never have it
now. Charlie is all right by this time. Her high and mighty
airs have cured him, and her flippancy and her love of admi-
ration. Fancy her walking off to-day with that red-headed
fool, and quite ignoring IMrs. lloxburj' and her daughter,
when they — Miss Roxbiu-y, at least — wanted to see her to
engage her for this evening."

" He is not a fool, and he cannot helj^ his red hair," said
Graeme, laughing, though there was both sadness and vexa-
tion in her heart. " The Goldsmiths might have called her
' high and mighty ' if she had left them and gone quite out
of her v.'ay, as she must have done, to speak to those ' fine
carriage people.' She could only choose between the two
jDarties, and I tliink poHtcuess and kindness suggested the
propriety of gomg on with her fi-iends, not a love of admu'a-
tion, as you seem determined to suppose."

" She need not have been rude to the Roxburys, however.
Charlie noticed it as weU as I."

" I think you arc speaking very foolishly, Harry," said
Graeme. " What do the Roxburys care for any of us ? Do
you suppose Mrs. Roxbury would notice a slight from a young
gu-1 like Rose. And she was not rude."

" No, perhaps not ; but she was jiolite in a way so distant
and diguiticd, so condescending, even, that I was amazed, and
so was Charlie, I know, though ho did not say so."

" Nonsense, Harry ! Rose knows them but veiy slightly.
And what has Mr. Millar to do with it ?"

*' Mr. IMillar !" exclaimed llany. " Do bo reasonable,

JANET S I.OVE AND SERVICE.

499

looking for
heart wlieu
for tlic hats

ill OracTue,
cSjitl Harry,
; feet. It ia
our love for

ever have it
and miglity
ove of adnii-
b red-lieaded
cr dangliter,
sec lier to

idliair," said
eas and vexa-
ve called her
mc quite out
those 'fine
cen the two
uggested the
jve of admira-

rya, however.

Harry," said
[r of us ? Ho
|from a young

ray so distant
amazed, and

liO."

iveiy slightly.
|e reasonable,

Graeme. Is it not of IMr. Millar that we have been speaking
all this time ? He has everything to do with it. And as for

not knowinjif thci

at fii'st ddiubted

i am sure nose was
with Miss Roxbnry. And Amy was as delighted with her,
and wanted to be intimate, I know. But Hose is such a
flighty, flippant litilo thing, that "

" That will do, Harry. Such remarks may be reserved for
Mr. Millar's hearing. I do not choose to listen to them.
You are veiy unjust to Rose."

" It is you who are unjust, Graeme, and unreasonable, and
a little out of temper, which docs not often happen with you.
I am suTe I don't understand it."

Graeme laughed.

" Well, perhaps I am a little out of temper, HaiTv. I
know I am th-cadfiiUy lu*od. "We won't say anythmg more
about it to-night, except that I don't like to have Rose mis-
understood."

" I was, perhaps, a httlo hard on Rosio, once, but I don't
think I misunderstand her," said Harry, wisely. " She is
just like other girls, I supjioso ; only, (iracme, you have got
me into the way of tliinking that my sisters should not be
just like other giiis, but a great deal better in every way.
And I shan't be hai'd on her any more, now that it is all
right with Charlie."

But was it all light with Charlie ? Graeme's talk with
Harry had not enlightened her much. Had pretty, gentle
Amy Roxbuiy helped Charlie " to get over it," as Harry's
manner of speaking seemed to imply ? Or did Charlie still
care for Rose ? And had Rose ever cared for him " in that
•vm,y ?" Was Rose foolish, and flippant, and fond of admira-
tion, as Harry declared ; and was she growing dissatistied
with thou* quiet, uneventfid life? Was it this tliat had
brought over her the change which could not be talked
ab 5ut or noticed, which, at most times, could not be believed
irr, but which, now and then, made itself evident as very real
Q/id very sad ? Or was it something else that was bringing a
clo)ud and a shadow over the Hfe of her young sister ? Even

■*■";

? b

■>

;l-(«^^Pi

noo

JANl-TS LOVE ANT) 8KUVICK.

in licr tlumtiilit'^, (iraoino shrunk from ;ulrniiiin<:^ tliaf Iloso
nn"^lit. 1)0 coniinpc *^^<> ^^o laiowlcdgo of lior own heart too hito
for licr hapj)in('.s.s.

" I will not beliovo tliat she has all that to pass throu;ifh.
It (vmnot bo so bad as that. I will havo pationoo and trust.
I cannot speak to her. It would do no good. I will wait
and inisf."

(}ra(Mno sat lonj; that night listening to tho quiet breath-
ing of her sleeping sister ; but all tho anxious thoughts that
passed llu'ough her mind could only end in this : " I will
wait and trust/'

CHAPTER XL.

C"^ RAEIME awolio in tlio nioniiiifjf to wonder at all tlio
^ (loul)tH and anxieties that had filled her mind in the
darkne.sa ; for Hhe was aroused by baby kissen on her lips,
and opened her eyes to see her sister Hose, wilh her nephew
in her arms, and her face as brif^ht as the INIay moniin^',
fimilin;^ down upon her. llose disappointed and sad ! IJoso
hidinjjf in her heart hopes that were never to b(! realized !
She list(Mied to her voice, ringing through tlio house, like tho
voice of the morning lark, and wondered at her own folly.
She laughed, as Itosc babbled to the child in the wonderful
baby language in which she so excelled ; but tears of tliank-
fnlness rose to her eyes as she remembered the fears f)f tho
night, and sot them face to face with the joy of the morning.

" I could not have borne it," she said to herself. '• I am
afraid I never could have borne to see my darling drooping,
as she nnist have done. I am content with my own lot. I
think I wou'd not care to change anything tho years have

brought to me. But Rosie . Ah ! well, I might have

known ! I know I ought to tnist for Rosie, too, even if
troul)le were to come. But oh ! I am very gLid and thanlcful
for her sake."

She was late in the brealdast-room, and she found HaiTy
there.

'• ' The early bird,' you know, Graeme," said he. " I have
been telling llosio what a scolding you were giving mo last
night on oiu* way homo."

" But ho won't tell me what it v/as all about," said Rose.

"I cannot. I don't know myself. I have an idea that
you had something to do with it, Itosic. But I can give no

(501)

Ill

502

jankt's love and service.

l-i'^H

detailed account of the circumstances, as the newspapers
say."

" It is not absolutely necessaiy that you should," said
Graeme, smiling.

" I hope you arc in a much better humor this morning,
Graeme."

" I think I am in a prett}' good humor. Not that I confess
to iK'iiig very cross last night, however."

" It was ho who was cross, I daresay," said Hose. " You
l)rought him away before supper ! No wonder he was cross.
Ai'e you going to stay very long, Harry ?"

" AVhy ? Have you any commands for me to execute ?"

" No ; but I am goiug to introduce a suljject that will try
your temper, judging from your conduct yesterday. I am
afraid you will be threatenhig to beat some one."

Hari'y shrugged his shoulders.

" Now, Graeme, don't you call that flippant ? Is it any-
thing about the big doctor, Eosie ?"

*' You won't boat him, will you Harry ? No. It is only
about his sister. Graeme, Fanny has given me leave to in-
vite her here for a few days, if you have no objection. She
cannot bo enjoy mg herself very much where she is staying,
and it will bo a real liohday to the little thing to come hero
for a while. She is very easily amused. She makes pleasure
out of everything. May n't she come ?"

" Ceiiainly, if you would like her to come ; I should like
to know her very much."

" And is the big brother to come, too ?" asked Arthui*.

" No. He leaves town to-day. Will you go with me,
Harry, to fetch her here ?"

" But what about ' papa and mamma,' to whom you were
to bo shown ? The cunning, little thing has some design
upon you, Rosic, or. perhaps, on Some of the rest of us."

Rose laughed.

" Don't bo frightened, Harry. Y'ou are safe, as jon are not
domesticated with us. And 1 intend to show myself to
' papa and mamma ' later, if you don't object."

JANET S LOVi: AM) 8EUV1CE.

503

lewspapers

3uld," said

H morning,

it I confess

)aG. " You
I ^Yas cross.

SGCUtc ?"

iiat will tiy
day. I am

Is it any-

It is only
leave to in-
ction. She
is staying,
come licro
£cs pleasure

should like

Arthur,
with me,

11 you were
3me design
of us."

yon are not
myself to

" There ! look at Graomc. She thinlcs vou and I arc
qnaiTclling, Rosio. She is as p;va\G as a juilj:jo."

" Tell us about the party, Harry," said Fanny.

" It was very pleasant. I don't think Graeme enjoyed it
much, liowever. I wonder, too, that she thd not, for there
were more nice people there than we usually sec at parties.
It was more than usually agreeable, I thought.'*

" You are degonerathig, Harry," said his brother. " I
thought you were beyond all tluit sort of thing. I should
have thought you would have found it slow, to say the least."

" And then to make him lose the suj^per ! It was too bad
of you, Graeme," said Rose.

"Oh ! she did n't. I went back again."

They all exclaimed. Harry, only, laughed.

" Can I do anything for you and yoiu* fi'iend, Rosie ? "
asked he.

" Yes, indeed you can. I mtcnd to make a real holiday for
the Httle thing. AYo are open to any proj^osal in the way of
pleasiu'e, riding, driving, boating, picnicing, one and all."

" It is very Idnd of you, Harry, to olibr," said Graeme.

*' Hem ! not at all. I shall be most happy," said Harry.

" Oh ! we shall not be exactuig. We arc easily amused,
httle Etta and I."

Miss Goldsmith's visit was a success. She was a very nice
little girl, whose life had been passed in the country — not in
a village *even, but quite away from neighbors, on a farm, in
which her father had rather unfortunately invested the greater
part of his means. It might not prove to be unfortunate in
the end, Etta explained to them, because the land was valuable,
only in the meantime it seemed to take all the income just to
keep thmgs going. But by and by she hoped farming would
pay, and the place was beautiful, and they lived very happily
there, if they only had a Httle more money, Etta added
gravely.

Dick was the hero who was to retrieve the fallen fortunes
of the family, Etta thought. He was her only o\ni brother.
All the rest of the children were only her half-brothers and

I Iff

\ !

i'?i

-H '

501

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

sisters. But notwithstanding tlio hard times to which Etta
confessed, they were a very happy family, it seemed,

Everything was made pleasure by this little girl. It was
pleasure just to diive through the streets, to see the well-
dressed people, to look in at the shop windows. Shopping was
pleasure though she had little to spend. An hour in a book-
seller's, or in^a fancy shop, was pleasure. The churches, old
and new, were wonderful to her, some for one reason, some
for another. Rose and she became independent and strong-
minded, and went everywhere without an escort. They spent
a day in wandering about the shady walks of the new csmetery,
and an afternoon gazing down on the city from the cathedi'al
towers. They paid visits and received them ; and, on rainy
days, worked and read together wdth great dehght, if not
with much profit. Rose, with both heart and hands, helped
her friend to make the most of her small allowance for dress;
and contrived, out of odds and ends, to make pretty, inexpen-
sive ornaments for her, and presents for her little brothers
and sisters at home. She taught her new patterns in crochet,
and new stitches in Berlin wool. She even gave her a music
lesson, now and then, and insisted on her practising, dailj',
that she might get back what she had lost since she left
school, and so be able the better to teach her little sisters
when she went home. In short, she contrived to fill up the
time with amusement, or with work of some sort. Not a
moment but was occupied in some way.

Of course, Graeme was sometimes included in their plans
for the day, and so were Fanny and baby, but for the most part
the young girls were occupied with each other ; and the visit,
which was to have been for a few days, lengthened out beyond
the month, and might have been longer than that, even, only
Rose had a slight, feverish attack which confined her to her
room for a day or two, and then Etta could no longer hide
from herself that she ought to go home.

" I hope I shall not find that this pleasant time has spoiled
me. I think papa and mamma arc somewhat afraid. I mean to
bo good, and contented, and helpful ; but I know I am only a

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICK.

505

•liich Etta .

I. It was

! tlie well-

ipping was

in a book-

iirclies, old

ison, some

md Etrong-

riicy Biicnt

V cametery,

e oatliedi-al

d, on rainy

iglit, if not

nds, helped

e for dress;

ty, inexpen-

le brothers

} in crochet,

her a music

ising, daily,

,ce she left

ittle sisters

mi np the

irt. Not a

their plans
le most part
lid the visit,

out beyond
I, even, only
her to her
llongcr hide

I has spoiled
I mean to

II am only a

siUy little thing. Oh ! Rosic ! if you were only going homo
with mo for a little wliilc ! "

*' I should like it very much, indeed," s:iid Rose.

"Of course, everything is very diirorcnt at oui* house, but
you would n't mind that. j\Iiss Elliott, do n't you think you
could spare Rose to me for a few days? "

Graeme shook her head.

" I think I have sj^arcd her to you a good many day.s. I
have seen very little of her for a long time, I think."

Miss Goldsmith looked grieved and penitent.

" Nonsense, Etta," said Rose ; " she is only laughing at you.
She has had you and me, too. And I should like very much
to go with you. This is the nicest time of the year to be in
the countiy, I think. What do you say Graeme ? "

Little Etta clasped her hands, and looked at Graeme so in-
treatingly, that Rose laughed heartUy. But Graeme said
nothing encouraging. However, the very hottest days of the
summer came that season among the first June days, and, be-
cause of the heat, Graeme thought Rose did not recover from
her illness so quickly as she ought to have done. She w:is
languid and pale, though pretty busy still, and cheerful, and
Graeme proposed that she should go with her friend for a
few days, at least. Etta was enchanted.

" I am afraid my resolutions about being good, and help:: ig
mamma, and teaching the little ones, would have falx ii
through, for I know I am a foolish gnl. But with Rost^ to
help me, just at first, I shall succeed I know."

" Do n't be silly, Etta," said Rose. " You are a great deal
wiser and better, and of a gi'cat deal more use m the worM,
than ever'I was, or am like to be. All my wisioin is lip-wis-
dom, and my goodness lip-goodness. If they will help you,
you shall have the benefit of them ; but pray do n't m iko mo
blush before Graeme and Fanny, who know me so well."

No time had to be lost in preparations. The decision was
made one da}-, and they were to leave the next. Harry, with
his friend and partner, caine up one night to bid IMiss Gold-
smith good-bye, and heard for tiie first time of Rose's inten-
22

»«,!:■ 1

506

JAXKT8 LoVK AND Si;KVICK.

■. ■ i!

I i

tion to f?o with h(-r. Htiri-v did not ho:iv it v. itli pleasure,
indeed ; ho mfido no secret of liis voMatiou. There was a little
bantering talk betv.'cen them, in the style tiiat (iraenie dis-
liked so much, and then Rose went away for a few minutes.

"Graeme," said Harry, "what is all this about? It seems to
me Hose ought to have had enough of her little friend l)v this
time. AVhat freak is this she has taken al)out the countiy,
and a change of air, and nonsense ? "

"If it is a freak, it is mine." said (iraonio, quietly. " Roso
needs a change. She is not ill, Imt still she is not quite well,
and I am very glad she is to go with Miss (ioldsmith."

*• A change," repeated Harry. " Why could she not go
with Fanny to the seaside, if she needs a change ? "

" But Fanny is not going for several weeks yet. Rose will
be home before tuat time. She will not be away more than a
fortnight, I hope."

" A fortnight, indeed! What has the time to do with it ? It
is the going at all that is so foolish. Tou astonishrae, Graeme."

" You astonish me, HaiTj' I R' ally I cannot understand
why you should care so much about it."

" Well, well ! If you are pleased, and she is pleased, I need
not trouble myself about it," said Harry, sulkily.

" What has happened to you, Harry ? " said Fauny. " You
are not like yourself, to-night."

" He is a great deal more hke the Hariy of old times," said
Graeme. " Like the Harry you used to know long ago, IMr,
Millar, than Uke the reasonable, dignified person we have had
among us lately."

" I was just thinking so," said Mr. IMillar.

" Why should not Rosie go ? " pers'tsi od Fanny. " I think it
must be a very stupid place, from all tb;'.t Etta says ; still, if
Rose wishes it, why should she not yp ? "

" I believe it is the big brother Harry is afraid of," said
Arthur, laughing. Graeme and Fanny laughed, too.

" I don't think it is a laughing matter," growled Hany.
" How would you hke it if she were to throw herself away on
that red-headed giant ? "

JANET 6 LOVE AND SERVICE.

507

pleasure,
as a littlo
acnio (lls-
ininiitcs.
, secma to
atl In- this
3 conntiy,

f. *' Rose

quite well,

th."

lie not go

Rose will
aore than a

with it? It
D, Graeme."
imcTcrstancl

ased, I need

hniy.

"You

Itimes," said
i\g ago, Mr.
^e have had

"I think it
|ys ; still, if

Id of," said

too.

rled Harry.

|clf away on

Arthur and Faniiy langheil, still, but Crraemo looked grave.

*' It would be just like a silly girl Ukc Rose," continued
HaiTv, gloomily.

" Hiu-ry," said Graeme, " I think you are forgetting what is
due to your sister. You should be the last person to couple
Rose's name with that of any gentleman."

" Of course, it is only n i iiong ourselves ; and, I tell you,
Graeme, you are spoihng Rosie— "

" Harry ! bo quiet. I dont choose toJisten to you on that
suliject."

" I declare, Hariy, you are getting morbid on the subject
of Rosie's conquests. It is the greatest folly imaginable,"
said Arthur.

" Well, it may be so. At anjTate, I shall say no more.
Are you coming, Charhe? I must go."

He w'ent to tlie foot of the stau's, and called:

" Rose, are you coming down again ? I nnist go."

Rose came flying down.

" 3Iust you go, HaiTy 1 I am just done with what I need-
ed to do. Don't be cross with mo, Harrv\" And greatly to
his surprise, as she put lier arms around liis neck, ho felt her
tears upon his check.

"Why, Rosie, what ails you? I didn't mean to bo cross,
Rosie, my darling."

But, in a minute. Rose was smiling through her tears.

"Rosie, dear," whispered her brother, " you are a very silly
littlo girl. I thmk you are the very silliest giii I know. I
wish—"

Rose wiped her eyes.

" Don't go yet, Hany. I will come in immediately ; and
please don't tell Graeme that I am so silly. She wound n't
like it at all."

*' Graeme is as silly as you are," growled Harry.

Rose laughed, and ran up stairs, but came down in a min-
ute with Miss Goldsmith. Hai'ry had brought a great paper
of sweets for the little sisters at home, for which Etta thauk-
od liim very prettily, and then she said :

l::.i

hi ' :

III

508

Janet's lovI': and service.

"I hope you arc not afi'.aid to trust Eoso with us? We will
take great care of her, I assure you. "

" Since I am too sillv to take care of mvsclf," said Rose.

They had a pleasant evening enough, all things consider-
ed, and it was some time before Hany and his friend went
awav.

" 1 must say good-bye for a long time, Miss Rose," said Mr.
Millar. " I shall have sailed before you are homo again, I
suppose."

" You go in the first steamer, then ? "

" I don't know, I am not quite sure yet. I have not quite
decided. "

" Of course, he goes by the first steamer," said Hariy.
" He should have gone long ago. There is no use dwelling
longer over so simple a matter."

Rose opened her eyes very wide.

" Is that the way you speak to your fiiend and partner ? "
said Fanny.

" Really, Harry, I am afraid yoiu* fine temper is being
spoiled," said Rose. "I tliink IMr. Millar is very good not
to mind you."

" I understand Harry," said his friend.

"You don't understand yourself, nor what is good for
you. Good-bye, dear, silly, httle Rose."

" Good-bye, Hany. Don't be cross."

" Rose," said Graeme, when they were up stairs alone for
the night, " I think it is the big brother that put Harry out
of temper to-night." Rose laughed.

" He seems quite afraid of him," continued Graeme.

" And you ai'e a little bit afraid of him, too, Graeme, or
you never would have told me about Harry."

" No. But I am just a httle afraid for him."

" You need not be. Harry thinks my desire for admira-
tion insatiable, I know, but it is too bad of you, Graeme, to
hitimate as much. I have a groat mind to tell you a secret,
Graame. But you must promise not to tell it again ; at lo.ist,
not yet."

JANETS LOVE AND SKIiVICH.

509

? WewiU

(1 Rose.
1 consider-
ricnd went

/'said Mr.
ic again, I

e not quite

aid Hariy.
se dwelling

I partner ? "

or is being
y good not

is good for

irs alone for
Harry out

lemc.

I Graeme, or

I for adniira-
iGraonie, to
lou a secret,
Lin ; at lo ist,

" Well," said Graeme.

" If I should stay away longer than I mean to do at present,
and Harry should get very unhappy about me, perhaps you
might tell him. Harry thinks I cannot manage my oNvn
affau's," added Kose, a vivid color rishig on her cheeks. " And
he has a mind to help me. He has not heljied me much,
yet. Ah ! well, there is no use going over aU that."

" What is the secret you are going to tell me ? '" asked
Graeme.

" I don't Imow^ whether I ought to tell. But it will be safe
with 5'ou. Graeme, the big doctor is engaged."

" Well," said Gi-acme.

" It is not all smooth saihng, yet. I am afraid it may inter-
fere somewhat with his success in retrieving the fortunes of
the family, as Etta has alwaj^s been hoping he might do. But
she is quite pleased for all that, poor, dear, httle thing. See
that you don't tell Harry."

*' Well, is that all you have to say on the subject ? " asked
her sister.

" Graeme ! I do believe you are as bad as Harrj'. Do you
fancy that it is I to whom Dr. Goldsmith is engaged? By
no means. I am afraid it is a foolish affair ; but it may fall
through yet. She is a young widow, and has two children,
and a httle money. No. It is very foolish of Hairy to fancy
things. He is very stupid, I think. But you are not to tell
him, because, reaUy, the secret is not mine, and besides, I
h.ive another reason. Good-night, dear."
' And so they went away in t}ic moniing. Rose's visit to
the country was quite as agi'ccal)le as had been ]\Iiss Gold-
smith's to the tovvn, judging from the time she stayed there,
and from the letters she sent home. The countiy wt lovely^
and she wondered any one would live in tli-j city w i • «uld
leave it. She kept a journal for Graeme, and it was filled
with accounts of rides, and drives, and sails ; with, now and
then, hints of work done, books read, of children's h.'ssons, and
torn frocks, of hay-making, and butter-making ; and if
Graeme had any misgiving as to tiic perfect enjoyment of

610

Janet's lovk and service.

lior sister, it could not have been her letters that had any-
thing to do with it.

At last there came word of an expedition to be nndci-talceu
to a lake far-away in the woods, where there \\ere pond-lilio.s
and lake trout in abundance. They were to can-y a tent,
and be out one night, perhaps two, and Mr. and ^Ii'.s. G Id-
smith were going with them, and all the -hildren as v.cll.
This was tlie last letter. Rose herself came soon after, to
find a very quiet house, indeed. Fanny and her son had
gone to the seaside, whither Graeme and Rose, perhaps, rai;jht
go, later. Mr. IVIillar had gone, too, not by tlie first steamer,
nor by the second, however. If Rose had been home two
days sooner, she might have seen him before he went, Hany
told her ; and Rose said, " AVhat a pity ! If I luid only known.
I could so casilj' have come ! " That was all.

How quiet the house was durin;*- those long summer days !
It was like the coming again of the old time, when they and
Nellv used to have the house ui the warden to thi^-mwlvos,
with only AVill. coiviing and going, till night brought the
brothers home.

" What happy, happy days they were ! '' said Rose, with a
sigh.

"They were happy days," said Graeme. "Vcrv- happy
days."

She did not seem to hear the rcgi'etfid echo in her sister's
voice, nor did she take her to task for tlie itUe hands that lav
folded on her lap, nor disturb by word or look the times of
silent niiising, that grew longer and more frequent as those
uneventful days passed on. What was to be said ? The
doubts and fears that had made her unhappy in the spring,
and even before the spring, were coming back again. Rose
was not at peace with herself, nothing was easier io lie seen
than that ; but whether the struggle was with pride, or anger,
or disappouitment, or whether all these and something more
had to do with it, she could only wait till time, or chance, or
Rose of her own free will, should tell.

For Graeme could not bring herself to speak of the trouble

had any-

ndci'talveu
pond-lilios
•y a tent,
iirs. G kl-
1 as v.dl.
I after, to
r son had
aps, rai;^ht
it steamer,
home two
?nt, Hany
aly known. ,

imcr days !
n they and
;h'^'rawlves,
roJight the

i«c, with a

crj- h.appy

i( r sister's
Is that lav
'i times of
t as those
laid? The
|hc spring,
un. Rose
to he seen
1'. or anger,
hing wore
?hanco, or

Lhe trouble

JAN'KT S I.OVi; AND 8ERVICT:.

511

W'hich her sister, sad and preoccupied, in so many nameless
wavs bctrav(Hl. 8ho would not even seem to see it, and so
strove to midvc it appear that it was her own industry, her
oocupatiou with hook, or pen, or nce.lle, that made the si-
lence Ijotweon them, on tliose days when Rose sat listless or
brooding, heedless of buoks, or work, or of whatever the
day might bring. And wheL the lit of gloom wore over, or
when, startled by some sudden fear of being obseiTed, she
roused herscdf, and came back with an effort to the things
about her, GrdoniG was always ready, yet not too eager, to
make the most of excuses. Either the heat made her lan-
guid, or the rain made her duU, or the yesterday's walk had
been oJiausting ; and Graeme would assent, and warn or
reprove, as tlio caso sbouied to require, never intimating, by
word or look, how clc arly she saw through it all, and how
she grieved and suffered v\ith her.

And, when seized upon by restlessness or impatience, she
gi'ew imt:ibl'j and exticting, and '' HI to do with," as Janet
would have said, Graeme stood between her and the wonder
and indignation of her brothers, and, whicli was harder to
do, shielded her from licr own anger and self-contempt, when
she came to lierse)^ again. She went out with her for long
walks, and did what was lander still, she let her go by her-
self, to rest hor mind by tiring out her body, at times when
the fever lit was on her, making her fi'et and chafe at trifles
that would have made her laugh if all had been well ^vith
hev

It was an anxious time to Graeme. When their brothers
were vitli them, Rose was litlle different fi'om the R()^;e of
old, .ih r.-r PS they could see ; and, at such timo-^, (nen Graeme
"woulu '.': begiiiled into a momentary belief that she had
been letting her f(> :'^ speak, when there was little Ciiuse.
But another day would come, bringing the old listlessness tn*
restlessness, and Graeme could only watch and wait for the
moment when a cheerfLd word, or a chiding one, might be
spoken for her si-.ter's good, or a movement of some kind
oiade to beguile her into occupation or pleasure for a littlo

X"^

^612

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

i ,i

while. But, through all her watching, aucl waitiiig, and
anxiety, Graeme spoke no word that might betray to her
sister her knowledge that sometliing was amiss with her.

For, indeed, Avhat could she say? Even in her secret
thoughts she had shrunk from looking too closely on the
cloud of trouble that had fallen on the hfe of hor young
sister. Was it nnsundersta,nding, or wounded pride, or dis-
appointment ? Or was it something which time and change
might not so easily or so soirely dispel ? There were no
words to be spoken, however it might be. That was plain
enough, Graeme said to herself, remembering some years of
her own experience, and the silent Hfe she had lived unsus-
pected among them all.

Not that any sii h trouble as had bo fallen her, had come
upon Rose. That i " over for a moment to be beheved.
Nothing that had 1 J-l w d to Ease, or was like to happen,
ct^ild so change life to hej; as hers had been changctL liose
was wiser and stronger than she had been, and she was
younger, too, and, perhaps, as Janet had said, " of a hghter
nature." Gmeme comforted herself thus, saying to herself
that the cloud would pass away ; and she waited and watch-
ed, and cared for her, and soothed or eluded, or sliielded her
still. She did all this sorrowfully enough at thuos, yet hope-
fully, too, for she kiiew that w^hatevcr the troubl:" might be
that, for the present, made the summer days a weariness to
the desponding girl, it would pass away ; and so she waited,
and had patience, and prayed that, out of it all, she might
come wiser and stronger, and more fitted for the work that
was awaiting her somewhere in the world.

" Graeme," said her sister, one day when they had been
sitting for a long time silent togetlier, " suppose we were to
go and see Norman and Hilda this fall, instead of in the
spring, as they propose."

" Would you like it ? " asked Graeme, a little surprised.

" Yes. For some things I would like it ;" and Graeme fancied
there was suppressed eagerness in her manner. "It is a
better season to go, for one thing — a better season for health,

f I

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

613

I mean. One bears the change of chmate better, they say."

" But you have been here so short a time. What would
Arthur say, and Fanny? It would look as if you only
thought yourself a visitor here — as if your home was with
Norman."

Rose shrugged her shoulders.

"Well! neither Ai-thur nor Fanny would be inconsolable.
The chances are it may be my home. It is worth taking into
consideration. Indeed, I have been considering the matter
for some time past."

"Nonsense! Don't talk foolishly. Rose. It is not long
since j'ou wished me to promise that we should always re-
main together, and I have no thought of goin'^ W^est to stay
very long."

"And why not? I am sure Norman has a right to
grumble at our being here so long."

"Not at you, Rosio."

" No. Not at me. And, besides, I was not thinking of
Norman, altogether. I was thinking of making a home for
myself out there. Why not ? "

Graeme looked up, a little startled.

"I don't understand you, Rose."

Rose laughed.

" No, you don't. But you think you do. Of course, there
is only one way in which a woman can have a home according
to the generally received opinion. It must be made for her.
But one might fancy you should be beyond that by this
time, Graeme," added Rose, a little scornfully.

Graeme said nothing, and Rose went on.

" It would not be easy here, I know ; but out thero you
and I could make a home to ourselves, and be independent,
and have a life of oiu" own. It is so diflferent there. You
ought to go there just to understand how very different it
is."

" If we needed a home," said Graeme. " But, Rose, I am
content with the home we have."

" Content ! " repeated Rose, impatiently. " Thero is surely
22*

614

JANET S LOVE AXD SERVICE.

«<

something better than content to be looked for in the world;"
and she rose and Wiilked about the room.

"Content is a very good thing to have," said Graeme,
quietly.

" Yes, if one could have it. But now, Graeme, do tell mo
what is the good of such a hfc as we are living now ? — as I
am living, I ought to say. Your hfc and work are worth a
great deal to the rest of us ; though you must lot me say I
often wonder it contents you. Think of it, Graeme ! What
does it all amount to, as far as I am concerned, I mean ? A
little working, and reading, and music ; a httlc visiting and
housekeeping, if Fanny bo propitious — coming, and

going.

and smiling, and making believe enjoy it, when one feels
ready to fly. I am sick of the thought of it all."

Graeme did not answer her. She was thmking of the time
when she had been as impatient of her daily life as this, and
of how powerless words, belter than she could hope to sj)eak,
had been to help her ; and though she smiled and shook her
head at the youac, giii's impetuous protest agamst the use-
lessness of her life, her eyes, quite unconsciously, met her
sister's with a look of wistful pity, that Rose, in her youthful
impatience and jealousy, was quick to resent.

"Of course, the rest would make an outcry and raise
obstacles — that is, if they were to bo consulted at all," she
went on. But you ought to know liettor, Graeme," added
she, in a v(5ice that she made sharp, so that her sister need
not know that it was very near being tearful.

" But, Rose, you have not told me yet what it is you would
do, if you could have your own way. And what do you
mean by having a life of your own, and being independent ?
Have you any plan ?"

Rose sat down, with a little sigh of impatience.

" There is surely something that we could do, you and I
together. I can have no plan, you kn :)W quite well ; but you

might ' „ip me, instead of " Listead of laughing at me,

she was going to say, but she stopped, for though Graeme's
lips were smiling, her eyes had a shadow in them that looked

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

515

lie world;"
1 Graeme,

do tell mo
ow? — as I
re worth a
't me say I
lie ! What
mean ? A
isiting and
and going,
I one feels

of the time
as this, and
oe to speak,
1 shook her
ist the use-
ly, met her
.er youthful

and raise
[it all," she
me," added
sister need

you would
lat do you
[ependent ?

you and I
[1 ; but you

ling at me,

Graeme's

Ihat looked

like coming tears ; and the gazo, that seemed resting on the
pi(!tarc on the wall, went farther, lioseknew ; bul whether into
the past or the futm'c, or whether it was searclmig hito the rea-
son of this new eagerness of hers to be awav and at \\ork, she
could not tell. However it might be, it vexed and fretted
her, and she showed it by sudden impatient n-ovements,
which recalled her sister's thoughts.

" What is it, Hose ? I am afraid I was thinkmg about
something else. I don't think I quite mider stand what you
were saying last," said Graeme, taking up her work as a safe
thing on which to fix licr eyes.

" For I must not let her see that I know there must be a
cause for this sudden wish for a new life," said she to her-
self. If she had done what she longed to do, she would
have taken the impatient, troubled child in her arms, and
whispered, as Janet had whispered to her thiit night, so long
agt^ that the restless fever of her heart would pass away; she
would have soothed and comforted her, with tender words,
as Janet had not dared to do. She would 1 ave bidden her
wait, and have patience with herself and her life, till this
cloud passed by — this light cloud of her summer morn-
ing, that was only mist to make the rising day more beauti-
ful, and not the sign of storm and loss, as it looked to her
young, afli'ighted eyes.

But this she could not do. Even with certain knowledge
of the troubles which she only guessed, she knew it would be
vain to come to her with tender, pitying words, and worse
than vain to try to prove that nothing had happened to her,
or was lili;e to happen, that could make the brealdng up of her
old hfe, and the beginning of a new one, a thing to be thought
of by herself or those who loved her. So, after a few stitches
carefully taken, for all her sister could see, she said,

" And, then, there are so few things that a woman can do,"

The words brought back so vividly that night in the dark,
when she had said them out of a sore heart to her friend,
that her work fell on her lap again, and she mot her sister's
eye with a look that Rose could not understand.

I-

510

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

IW':

" You arc not thinking of ^vlult I have been saving. "Why
do you look at nie in tliat strange v\ay'?" said she, pittislily.

" I am tliinkijig of it, indued. And I did not Icnow that I
was looking any other than my usual way. I was saying to
myself, * lias the poor child got to go through all that for
herself, as I have done ?' Oh ! Eosie, dear ! if I could only
give you the benefit of all my vexed thoughts on that very
subject !"

" Well, why not ? That is just w hat I want. Only, don't
begin in that discom-aging way, about there being so few
things a woman can do. I know all that, already."

" We might go to Normin for a while together, at an}' rate,"
said Graeme, feeling how impossible it would be to satisfy one
another by what might be said, since all could not be spoken
between them.

" Yes. That is just what I said, at first. And we coald
see about it there. We could much more easily make oiu*
plans, and carry them out there, than here. And, in the
meantime, we could find plenty to do in Hilda's house with
the children and all the rest. I wish we could go soon."

And then she went over what she had often gone over be-
fore, the way of hfe in thoii' brother Norman's house — Hilda's
housekeeping, and her way with her children, and in society,
and so on, Graeme askmg questions, and making remarks,
in the hope that the conversation might not, for this time,
come back to the vexed question, of what women may do in
the world. It grew dark in the meantime, but they were
waiting for Hairy and lettei*s, and made no movement ; and,
by and by, Rose said, suddenly:

" I am sui'e you used to think about all tliis, Graeme —
about woman's work, and how stupid it is to hve on in this
way, 'waiting at the pool,' as Hannah Lovejoy used to say.
I declare, it is undignified, and puts thoughts into people's

heads, as though . It would bo different, if we were living

in our father's house, or, even, if we had money of our own.
You used to think so, yourself, Graeme. Wliy should Arthur
and Harry do everytliing for us ?"

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

ring. AVhy
, pt ttislily.
iniow that I
LS saying to
all that for
[ could only
n that very

Only, don't
cing so few

y-"

at any rate,"
;o satisfy one
Dt be spoken

lid we could
ly make our
And, in the

,s house with

I >>

"> soon.

;one over be-

Lise — Hilda's

d in society,

g remarks,

or this time,

n may do in

it they were

ment ; and,

I, Graeme —

e on in this

iscd to say.

to people's

were li\ing

if our own.

lould Arthur

" Yes, I remember. AVhcn Fanny first oiimo, I think I had
as many thouglits about all this as you have now. I was
very restless, and discontented, and determined to go away.
I talked to Janet about it one night."

" And she convinced you that you were all wrong, I sup
pose," said Rose. " And you were content ever after."

"No. I don't tliink she helped me mucli, at the time.
But her gi'eat doctrine of patience and quiet waiting, and cir-
cumstances together, convinced me, afterward, that I did not
need to go in search of my work, as seemed to me then the
tiling to do. I found it r(>ady at my hand, though I coidd
not see it then. Her wisdom was higher than mine. Sho
said that out of it all would come content, and so it has, "

" That was not saying much !" said Rose.

" No. It did not seem to me much, when she said it. Bufc
she was right, all the same, and I was wrong. And it has
all happened much better than if I had got my own way."

" But, Graeme, all that would not apply in the case of
women, generally. That is begging the question, as Harry
would say."

" But I am not speaking of women in general ; I am speak-
ing about myself, and my o-wn work ; and I say Janet was ^^•ise,
though I was far from thinking it that night, as I mind well."

There was a pause, and then Rose said, m a low voice.

" It may have been right for you to stay at home then, and
care for the rest of us, but it would be quite difterent now, with
me, and I tliink with you, too. And how many women have
to go and make a way of life for themselves. And it is right
that it should be so ; and (iraeme, we might try."

Instead of answering her directly, Graeme said, after a lit-
tle while,

" Did I ever tell you Rose, dear, about that night, and all
that Janet said to me '? I told her how I wished to get out of
my useless, unsatisfactory life, just as you have been telling
me. Did I ever tell you all she said to me ? I don't think I
ever did. I felt then, just as you do now. I think I can un-
derstand your feeHng, better than you suppose ; and I open-

if '^

1..;

if
m I

518

jaxet's love and service.

«<

0(1 my heart to Junot — I iiiofin, I told licv how sick I wnn of
it all, find how f^ood-for-nothinj:? I felt iiij'sclf to ])C, and how
it all lui^fJit bo changed, if only I could lind real work to
do "

And Graeme wont on to tell much that had l)con said be-
tween them that night, about woman's Avork, and about old
maids, and a little al>out the jiropriety of not setting one's
face agauist the manifest lot of woman ; and when she came
to this part of it, she s]:)oko with an attempt at playfulness,
meant to covei', a little, the earnestness of all that went be-
fore. But neitlier in this nor in the rest, did she speak as
though she meant Rose to take the lesson to herself, or as
though it meant veiy much to either of them now ; but
rather implied by her words and manner, and by many a
pathetic touch here and there, that she was dwelling on it
as a pleasant reminiscence of the dear old friend, whoso
quaiiit sayings were household words among them, because
of their wisdom, and because of the honor and the love they
gave hor. Her earnestness increased, as, by and by, she sav/
the impatience pass out of her sister's face and manner ;
and it never came into her mind that she was turning back
a page in her own experience, over v.'hich Rose had long ago
pondered with wonder and sadness,

"I could not make Janet see the necessity that seemed so
clear to me," she went on. " I could not make her under-
stand, or, at least, I thought she could not nnderstand, for
she spoke as though she thought that Fanny's coming, and
those old vexations, made me v/ish to get away, and it was
not easy to answer her when she said that mj' impatience and
restlessness would all pass away, and that I nuistfallill papa's
last wish, and stay with the rest. I thought the time had como
when the necessity for that was over, and that another way
would be bettor for m", certainly ; and I thought for Arthur
and Fanny, too, and for you, Rosie. But, Oh ! how much wiser
Janet was than I, that night. But I did not think so at the
time. I was wild to be sot free from the present, and to have
my own will and go away. It was v/ell that circumstances

JANET ti LOVI:: AND Sl.RVICr!.

518

3 4

Vf\3 of

d how
)rk to

iiiil bc-
)ut old
<jf one's
e cnnic
fnlnoBH,
-cut bc-
poali as
If, or as
w ; but
many a
ig on it
, whose
because
Dvo they
she sav/
iifinrier ;
innr back
Long ago

nncd so
|r under-
hand, for
[ing, and
d it Avas
[cncc and
A\ papa's
liad como
thcr Avay
Arthur
lic-h wiser
50 at the
to have
Instances

wore too strong for mo It has come true, rs Janet said. I
tlihik it is better for us ail tliat I have Idoom at homo all these
years. Fanny and I have done each other good. It has
been better for us jdl."

She paused a moment, and then added,

" Of course, if it had been necessary that I should go out
into the world, and make my own way, I might have done as
others have done, and won, at least, a measure of success.
And so we might still, you and I together. Rose, if it were
necessarj', but that makes all the difference. There is no ques-
tion of necessity for us, dear, at present, and as for God's
work, and work for our fellow creatures, we can find that at
home. AVithout separating from the others, I mean."

Bat Rose's face clouded agahi.

" There need bo no question of separating fi*om the others,
Graeme. Norman is out there, and there are hundreds of
women who have Ax ir own place and work in the world, who
have not been driven by necessity to look for them — the
necessity of making a living, I moan. There arc other neces-
sities that a woman must feel — somo more than others, I
suppose. It is an idle, foolish, vaui life that I am hving. I
know that I have not enough to fill my life, Graeme. I know
it, though I don't suppose I can make you understand it. I
am past the age now to care for bemg petted, and amused,
and made much of by the rest of you. I mean, I am too old
now to feel that enough for my satisfaction. It is different
with you, who really arc good for something, and who have
done so much for Arthm* and Fanny, and us all. And, be-
sides, as you say, you are content ; but as for me — oh ! I
know there is no use talking. I could never make you under-
stand. There, I don't want to be naughty, and vex you —

and we will say no more to-night. Shall I get a light ? "

She stooped over her sister, and kissjd her, and Graeme,
putting her arms round her, said softly,

" Onlv one word more, Rosic. I tin" ak I can understand
you better than you believe, as Jar.t understood me that
night, though I did not see it then, and you must just let mo

«20

JANET rt LOVE AND SEIiVICE.

'J :1

say one tliin,":. ]My durliii,!:^, I liclicvo all that is trouliling
you, now, will puHS away ; but, if I am wroiinf, and if it bo
best that ycju liavo your cnvii wav about this work of vours —
I mean, if it is rij^ht — circumstances will arrange themselves
to that end, and it will all come eas}- for you, and me, too.
Wo shall keep to;,'etlier, at any rate, and I am not afraid.
And, love, a year or two does make a dillerencc in people's
feelings aljout tilings, though there is no good in my saying it
to you, now, I know. But we will wait tiU "Will, conies home.
We must be here to welcome him, even if his coming should
bo delayed longer than we hope now. I don't like to think
of any plan for you and me, out of which Will, must bo left.
And so many things may happen before a year is over. I
remember how restless and troubled I was at that time. I
don't like to think of it even now — and it is all past — quite
past. And we will stay together, whatever hajipcns, if we
can, and, darling, you must have patience."

All this was said with many a caressing pause between,
and then Rose said,

"Well — yes — I suppose wo must wait for Will."

But she did not say it clieei-fully, and Graeme went on,
after a Httle :

" And, dear, I have noticed more than onco in my life that
when a qiiiet tune like this has come, it has come as a time
of preparation for work of some sort ; for the doing, or the
bearing of God's will in some peculiar way ; and we must not
lose the good of these quiet days by being anxious about the
future, or regretful over the past. It will all come right, love,
you may be sure of that."

The last words were spoken hastily, for Han-y's voice was
heard, and Rose went softly out at one door, as he came in at
the other ; and when, in a little, he called from the foot of
the stairs, as he always did, when he did not find her in the
parlor, she came down, affecting sminise.

" So you are here at last, Harry ? Are there any letters
to-night?"

Yes, there were letters. Hariy had read his, and gave

JANET'S LOVK AND .SEUVICK.

r.2i

uVtling
£ it bo
ours —
nsolvcs
lie, too.
afraitl.
people's

aying it
9 home.
f slioiiltl
to think
t be left,
over. I
time. I
it — quite
as, if vre

between,

went on,

life tliat
las a time
IfT, or the
1 must not

ibout the
|ght, love,

Ivoice was
ime in at
le foot of
|er in the

ly letters

md gave

them the iiows witli a little •^n-uinblin,';-, Avliilo the gas was Ixv
iu>^ li;;htc'il. Ifis fiicnil and piirtncf sccniod intent on mak-
ing the most of Lis long dilayeil holiday, and was going to
lengthen it a little, ))y taking ;>, niu to Paris, perlia|)S even to
II

omo.

"With whom do you think, (Iracme?" added he, his face
clearing up suddenly. "With his brother Allan, and our
Will. Won't they helji one another to have a good time ?
Charlie takes it quite coolly, however, I must say. It was an
even chance, at one tim(}, whether ho would go at all, and
now, there is no telling when he will be back again. That is
always the way. I wonder when I shall have my lioHday ?
'The wiUing liorsc,' you know, Ilosie."

"It is very hard on you, HaiiT, dear. But I fancied you
had a little trip yourself, lately, and enjoyed it, too. Was
that in the interest of your friend ? "

" Honi I Yes — indirectly. I did enjoy it. Fanny says
she has had n, very pleasant sunnuer ; and, if y lu arc going
down at all, Ilosie, it is time you were going. They seem to
have a very nice set of people there. I think if you were to
go at once, I would take a riui down Avith you — next week,
perhaps. I think you would enjoy it."

" I thank you, Harry, dear. But, you know, Fanny's taste
and mme arc difllu'ent. I don't always fancy Jirr pleasant
people. And I should not think of taking you away on my
account."

" Not at all. I shall go, at any rate. But I want you to
go, Bosio, for a reason I have. ^Vnd I promise you won't
regret it. I wish Graeme would go, too."

" It v.'ould be charming if v-e could aU go togotiier," said
Rose. " But it would bo hardly v>orth while, we could make
so short a stay, now."

" I enjoyed it very much," said Harry. "' One gets to laiow
people so much better hi such a place, and I am sure j'ou
would like the Koxburys, Eosic, if you would only take pains
to know them."

" My dear Hairy ! think what you are saying ! Would

\-y

522

JANETS LOVK AND SKIIVKK.

m We

they take pains to k'now mo ? Tlicy avo Fanny's nieo people,
arc t]]03'? Yes, I su])posc so. However, I don't believo
Graeme ■will care to j:^o."

(h'iicme uttered an exclamation over her letter.

"It is from IMr. Snow," said she, 'vvith a pale face.

" Bad news ? " asked Hiirry.

It was bad news, indeed. It told, in Mr. Snow's brief way,
tliat, within a few days, the illness, from which his v>ifo had
been snfferuig for some time, had taken a dangerous turn,
rendeiing an operation necessary ; and the letter was sent to
prepare them for a possible fdtal rcsidt.

"It givc.^ her a cbance, and that is all the doctors will say.
She says it v.ill be all right whichever way it turns. God
bless you alL Euiilv will tell you more."

" Plarry," said (Graeme, as ho laid down llio letter. "I
must go to Janet."

"It would be a comfort to her if you coulil,"' said Harry,
gravely.

"And to mo," said Graeme. "I shall go early to-morrow."

Tliero was not much more said about it. Tiicre was a little
discussion about tho trains, and tlic best way to take, and
then Harry went away, Kose had ]iot spoken a word while
ho was there, but the moment the door closed afier him, she
said, softly,

'•' Hany does not think that I am going ; but, dear, j-ou
promised that, whatever happened, we should keep togotber.
And, Graeme, tho quiet time has been to prepare you for
this ; and wo are siu'cit will all be right, as JiU\et says. You
will let mo go with you, Graeme?' she pleaded; "you will
never go and leave mo here V"

So whatever Harrv thought, Graeme could do nolhing but
jield. and tho next morning tho sisters v.'ore speeding south-
Avard, with fear in th<>ir hearts, but with peace and hope in
them, also ; for tlu\v knew, and. they said to one iuiother
many tinics that day, that tho words of tlnir dear old friend
would come true, and that in wluitever way tho trouble that
had fallen on her might end, it would bo fur her all well.

CO people,
I't bclicvo

' if '

i:j

1 brief way,
s v.ifo had
•rous turn,
va« sent to

.•;i -will say.
ims. God

Letter. " I

aid Harry,

p-ni(UTow."
was a little
talce, and
ord wliile
liiiii, she

dear, you
) to' '•other,
'e you for
!iys. You
" vou will

).liin'Ji' but
linq- soutli-
d hope in
10 another
old friend
oublo that
well.

CHAPTER XLI.

SEPTEMBER was nearly over ; there were tokens of the
coming Autunni on the hills and valleys of ^Merlevillt*,
but th^ day was like a day in the prime of smnmer, and the
air f hao came in tlu'ough the open windows of the soutli room
fell on IVIrs Snow's pale cheeks as mild and balmy as a breeze
of June. The wood-covered hills wore uiifaded still, and
beautiful, thoug'h here and there a crimson b;miier waved, or
a pillar of gold rose up amid the gTccmicss. Over among
the valleys, were sudden, shifting sparkles from half-hidden
brooks, and the pond gleamed in the suns! line without a cloud
to dim its brightness. In the broken Holds tlia,t sloped to-
wards it, and in the narrow meadows tliai slcirtcd that part of
the Merle river which could be seen, there were tokens of Hfo
and busv labor — dark stretches of no^^lv-turnod mould alter-
nating with the green of the pastures, or the bleached stubble
of the recent harvest. There were glimjis'^s of the white
houses of the village through the trees, anil, now and then, a
ti'aveller passed slowly along the winding road, but there was
nothing far or near to distiu'b the sweet quiet of the scone
now so familiar a)id so dear, and Mrs. Snow gazed out upon it
with a Fjefiso of peace and rest at her heart which showed in
her quiet face and m her folded hands.

It showed in ]Mr. Snow's face, too, as he gliuiccd now and
then ovt^r the edge of the newspaper he was holding in his
hand. Ho was reailiiif!", and she was sniiposcdto bdist :>iiing,
to one of the excellont articles which weekly enriched tho
columns of Tlii' Pt(n'((in,].mt ihc look that w;;s coming and
going on his wife's face was not just tho look A\ith which she
waa wont to listen to tho doings of the County Association of

It:

ff'

i ^

624

,TANKT S LOVi: AND SKRYICK.

I ft.

ministers, Mr. Snow thought, and, in a little, he let the paper
di'op from his liaiid.

•'Well, and how (hd tliov come on with thoir dis'-assions ?"
said Mrs. Snow, her attention recalled by the silence.

Mr. Snow smiled.

'• Oh ! pretty much so. Their discussions will Icee;) a spell,
I guess," said he, taking olf his spectacles, and changing his
seat so as to look out of the window.

"It is a bonny day," said Mrs. Snow, softl\'.

" Yes, it is kind of pleasant."

There was nothing more said for a long Ime. Many
■words were not needed between these t^vo by this time. They
had been passing through weeks of sore trial ; the i dow
of deatli liad seemed to lie darkening over them, and, woi*se
to bear even than the prospect of death, had been the suffer-
ing which had brought it near. Worse for her, for she had
drawn very near to the unseen world — so near that the glory
had been visible, and it had cost her a struggle to be willing
to come back again ; and worse for liun, too, whose heart
had grown sick at the sight of the slow, wearing pain, grow-
ing sharper cveiy day.

But that was past now. Veiy slowly, but still surely,
health was coming back to the invalid, and the rest from
long pain, and the consciousness of returning strength, were
making the bright day and the fair scene more beautiful
to her. As for him, he could only look at her with thankful

joy-

" I never saw this bonny place bonnier than it is to<lay,
and so sweet, and quiet, and homelike. We live in a fair
world, and, on a day like this, one is ready to forget that there
is sin or trouble in it. "

" It is good to see you sittmg there," said Mr. Snow, for
answer.

" Well, I am content to be sitting here. I doubt I shall do
little else for the rest of my life. I must be a useless body,
I'm afraid," added she, with a sigh.

Mr. Snow smiled.

JAXKT S LOVE AND SEIiVirK.

525

the paper

•assions :
e.

e;) a spell,
luging his

le. Many
time. They
be 1 dow
and, woi*se
the suffer-
Dr she had
it the glory
) be willing
rhose heart
pain, grow-

itUl surely,
rest from
jngth, were
re beautifpl
tththanliful

is to<lay,
le in a fair
it that there

l. Snow, for

It I shall do
Icless body,

"You know bettor than that," said ho. "I don't suppose
it sooms muf'h to you to <;ot l)aclv aj.^ain ; but it is a gi'oat
deal for the rest of us to liavc you^ if it is only to look
at."

"I am contf.nt to bide my time, useless or useful, as (lod
wills," said hi ^ wife, gravely.

"I was willing you should go — yes, I do tliink I was will-
ing you should go. It was the seeing you suffer that seemed
to take the strength out of mo," said he, with a shudder. " It
makes mo kind of sick to think about it," added he, rising
and moving about. "I believe I was willing, but I am
dreadful glad to see you sitting there."

" I am glad to be here, since it is God's will. It is a won-
dci*ful thing to stand on the very brink of the river of death,
and then to turn back again. I tliink the Avorld can never
look quite the s ime to eyes that have looked beyond it to the
other side. But I am content to be here, and to serve Him,
whether it bo by working ov by waiting."

" On the very brink," repeated jMr. Snow, musingly.
" Well, it ilid look like that, one while. I wonder if I was
really willing to have you go. It don't seem now as if I
could have been — being so glad as I am that you did not go,
and so thankfiU."

" I don't think the gladness coritradicts the willingness ;
and knowing you as I do, and myself as well, I wonder less
at the williuf^iiess than at the gladness."

This needed further considcn'ation, it seemed, for Mr.
Snow did not answer, but sat musmg, with his eyes fixed on
the distant hills, till INL's. Snow spoke agam.

" I thou'jfht at first, when the worst was over, it was onlv a
respite from pain before the end ; but, to-day, I feel as if
my life was roally coming back to me, and I am more glad to
hve than I have been any day yet."

Mr. Snow cleared his throat and nodded his head a
great many times. It was not easy for him to speak at the
moment.

" If it were only May, now, instead of September ! You

•i

■ti

52(3

J.mKT A LOVE AND SERVICE.

always did lind our winters hard ; and it is pretty tough
being hived up so many months of the year. I do dread
the winter for you."

" Maybe it winna ho so hard on me. We must make the
best of it anyway. I am thankful for ease fi*om pain. That
is much."

" Yes," said Mr. Snow, with the shudder that always carao
with the remembrance of his wife's sufferings, " thank God
for that. I am't a going to fret nor wony about the Avinter,
if I can help it. I am going to live, if I can, from horn* to
hour, and from day to day, by the grace that is given mo ;
but if I could fix it so that Graeme would see it best to stop
here a spell longer, I should find it considerable easier, I
expect."

" But she has said nothing about going away j'ct," said
Mrs. Snow, smiling at his way of putting it. " You must
take the grace of her presence, day by day, as you do the
rest, at least till she shows signs of departiu*e."

" Wc never can toll how things are going to turn," said
Mr. Snow, musingly. " There is that good come out of your
sickness. They arc both here, and, as far as I see, they are
content to be here. If we could prevail on AVill. to see it his
duty to Ipok toward this field of labor, now, I don't doubt
but we could fix it so that they should make theh home hero
always — right here in this house, I mean — only it w^ould bo
'most too good a tiling to have hi this world, I 'm ah'aid."

" "We must wait for the leadings of Providence," said his
wife. " This field, as you call it, is no' at Will.'s taking j^et.
"What would your friend, jNIr. Perry, thmk if he heard you ?
And as for the others, wo must not be over anxious to keep
them beyond what tluur brothers woukl like. But, as you
say, they seem content ; and it is a pleasiu'e to have them
here, greater than I can put in W'orda ; and I know yju are
as pleased as I am, and that doubles the pleasm'o to me,"
added Mrs. Snow, looking gratc>fully toward her husband.
" It might have been so diirerent."

" Oh ! come, now. It ain't worth while to put it in that

JANKT S LOVE A2,'D .SEUVICE.

)27

r tough

) dread

ake the
. That

ys came
nk God
I wmtcr,
hoiu' to
,'en mo ;
t to stop
easier, I

et," said
ou must
1 do the

irn," said
^ of your
they are
see it his
t doubt
nne here
ould bo
aid."
said his
ig yet.
I'd you?
to keep
as you
,ve thcui
yju are
to mo,"
lUHbaud.

that

way at tliis timu of day. I don't know as you \\ allow it
exactly ; but I do think they are about asmgh U) nic as they
are to you. I really do."

" That 's saying much, but I '11 no' gainsay it," said ]Mrs.
Snow, smiling. " They arc good bahns, and a blessing
wherever they may go. But I doubt we canna hope to keep
them very long with us."

" It is amazing to me. I can't seem to understand it, or
reconcile it to ."

IMr. Snow paused and looked at his M'ife in the deprecating
manner he was wont to assume when he was not quite kiu'O
whether or not she would hke what he was going to say, and
then added :

"• Hovrever, she don't woitv about it. She is just as con-
tented as can be, and no mistake ; and I rather seem to
remember that you used to worry a little about her when
they were here last."

"About Miss Graeme, was it?" said Mrs. Snow, witli a smile;
" maybe I did. I was as good at that as at most tilings.
Yes, she is content with life, now. Gca's peace is m her
heart, and in her life, too. I need not have been afraid."

" llosie 's sobered down some, don't you think ?" said Mr.
Snow, with some hesitation. " She used to be as hvely as a
cricket. ]Maybe it is only my notion, but she seems chirercnt."

" She 's older and wiser, and she '11 be none the worse to
take a soberer view of life than she used to do," said
i\Irs. Snow. " I have seen nothinj? be vend wliat was to be
looked for m the circmnstanccs. But I have been so full of
myself, and my own troubles of late, I may not have takeu
notice. Her sister is not anxious about her ; I would have
seen that. The bami is gathering sense — that is all, I
think."

•' Well ! yes. It will be all right. I don't suppose it will
be more than a passing cloud, and I might have known bet-
ter than to vox vou with it."

" Indeed, you have not vexed me, and I am not going to
vox myself with any such thought. It will all coniC right, aa

'If'

i.,i

528

jani:ts love and servick.

you say. I Lavo seen her sister in deeper water than any
that can be about her, and she is on dry land now. * And
hath set my feet upon a roclc, and estabhshed my goings,' "
added Mrs. Snow, softly. '' That is the way with my bah-n, I
beHeve. Thank God. And they '11 both be the better for
this quiet time, and we '11 take the good of it without wish-
ing for more than is wise, or setting our hearts on what may
fail. See, they are coming down the brae together. It is
good to see them."

The first weeks of thcu' stay in Merlevillo had been weeks
of gi'oat anxiet3% Long after a very difficult and painful
opcTation had been successfully performed, Mrs. Snow re-
mained in great danger, and the two girls gave themselves
up to the duty of nursing and caring for her, to the exclu-
sion of all other thoughts and interests. To Mr. Snow it
seemed that his wife had been won back to life by their de-
votion, and Janet herself, when her long swoon of exhaus-
tion and weakness was over, remembered that, even at the
worst time of all, a dim consciousness of the presence of her
darhugs had been with her, and a wish to stay, for then*
sakes, had held her here, when her soul seemed floating away
to unseen worlds.

By a change, so gradual as scarcely to be pcrcej^tible, from
day to day, she came back to a knowledge of their loving
caro, and took up the burden of her life again. Not joyfully,
perhaps, having been so near to the attaming of heavenly
joy, but still with patience and content, wiUuig to abide
God's time.

After tliat the days followed one another quietly and
happily, with little to break the pleasant monotony beyond
the occasional visits of the neighbors from the village, or the
coming of letters from home. To Graeme it was a very
peaceful time. AVatching her from daj^ to day, her old friend
could not but see that she was content with her life and its
work, now ; that whatever the sliadov.' had been which had
fallen on her earlier days, it had passed away, leaving around
her, not the brightness of her youth, but a milder and more

Janet's love and service.

529

lan any
'And
oings,' "
baivn, I
3ttcr for
)ut wish-
hat may
i\ It is

en "weeks
1 painful
Snow re-
lemselves
the cxclu-
. Snow it
r their de-
)f exhaus-
en at the
|ice of her
'or their
ing away

ble, from
cir loving
joyfully,
heavenly
to abide

ietly and
ly Ijeyond
oG, or the
as a very
old friend
fe and its
liich had
ig around
id more

enduring radiance. Graeme was, in Janet's eyes, just what
the daughter of her father and mother ought to be. If she
could have wished anything changed, it would have been in
her circumstances, not in herself. She was not satisfied that
to her should be denied the higher happiness of being in a
home of her own — the first and dearest to some one worthy
of her love.

" And yet who knows ? " said she to herself. " One can
never tell in which road true happiness lies ; and it is not for
me, who can see only a httle way, to wish for anything that
God has not given her. ' A contented mind is a continual
feast,' says the Bock. She has that. And ' Blessed are the
meek, and the merciful, and the pure in heart.' "What would
I have ? 1 11 make no plans, and I'll make no wishes. It is
all in good hands, and there is nothing to fear for her, I am

sure of that. As for her sister . Well, I suppose there

will aye be something in the lot of those we love to make us
mindful that they need better help than ours. And it is too
far on in the day for me to doubt that good guidance will
come to her as to the rest."

Still, after her husband's words, Mrs. Snow regarded
Hose's movements with an earnestness that she was not quite
willing to acknowledge even to herself. It was rather unrea-
sonable of him, she thought at fii'st, to be otherwise than
content with the young girl in her new sedateness. She was
not quite so merry and idle as during her last visit ; but that
was not surprising, seeing she was older and wiser, and more
sensible of the responsibiUties that life brings to all. It was
natural that it should be so, and well that it should be so.
It was matter for thankfulness that the years were bringing
her wisdom, and that, looking on hfe with serious eyes, she
would not exjDect too much fi'om it, nor be so bitterly disap-
pointed at its inevitable failures. She was quieter and
graver, but surely no fault was to be found with that, seeing
there had been sickness and anxiety in the house.

She was cheerful and busy too, TMra. Snow saw, aficoniplish-
ing wonderful things in the way of learning to do housework,
23

I ?

530

JANKT 8 LOVE AND S1':RV1CE.

' !■ i

,.*,,

lit'. ' "!■

and dairy work, under the direction of Hannah, and comport-
ing herself generally in a way that was winning the good
opinion of that experienced and rather exacting housekeeper.
She took great interest in out-of-door affairs, going daily with
the deacon to the high sheep pastui'e, or to the clearing be-
yond the swamp, or wherever else his oversight of farming
matters led him, which ought to have contented Mr. Snow,
his wife thought, and which might have done so if he had
been quite sure that her heart was in it all.

By and by Mrs. Snow wearied a little for the mirthfulness
and laughter that had sometimes needed to be gently checked
duriig her former visit. More than once, too, she fancied
she saw a wistful look in Graeme's eyes as they followed her
sister's movements, and she had much ado to keep from troub-
ling herself about thcra both.

They were sitting one day together in the south room
which looked out over the garden and the orchard and the
pond beyond. Kose was in the garden, walking hstlessly up
and down the long paths between the flower-beds, and Mrs.
Snow, as she watched her, wondered within herself whether
this would be a good time to speak to Graeme about her
sister. Before she had time to decide, however, they were
startled by Hannah's voice coming round the comer —

" Rose," it said, " hadn'b you just as leives do your walking
right straight ahead ? 'Ciause, if you had, you might take a
pitcher and go over to Emily's and borrow some yeast. I
don't calculate, as a general thing, to get out of yeast, or any
thing else, but the cat 's been and keeled the jug right down,
and spilled the last drop, and I want a little to set some more
to rising."

*' Hannah," said Rose, with a penitent face, " I am afraid
it was my fault. I left the jug on the corner of the shelf, in-
stead of putting it away as I ought. I am very soiTy."

" Well, I thought pretty likely it might be you, seeing it
wasn't me," said Hannah, grimly. " That jug has held the
yeast in this house since Grandma Snow's time, and now it 's
broke to forty pieces."

Janet's love and seuvice.

531

omporfc-
be good
3kceper.
lily with
iriiig be-
farming
r. Snow,
he had

thfulness
' checked
lc fancied
owed her
am tronb-

ath room
d and the
jtlessly up
and Mrs.
whether
about her
they were
r —

ir walking
;ht take a
yeast. I
,st, or any
rht down,
lome more

jam afraid
shelf, m-

I, seeing it
held the
now it 's

"Oh, I am so sorry !" said Rose.

" Well, I guess it don't matter a great sight. Nobody will
worry about it, if / don't, and it 's no use crying over spilt
milk. But I guess you'd better toll Emily how it happened.
I'd a little rather what borrowing there is between the two
houses should be on t'other side. I wouldn't have asked you,
only I thought you'd rather go than not. That walking up
and down is about as shiftless a business as ever you under-
took. But don't you go if you don't want to."

Rose shrugged her shoulders.

" Oh ! I'll go, and I'll teU IVIrs. Nasmyth how it happened,
and that it was my fault and e cat's. Mrs. Snow," said she,
presenting herself at the window, " did you hear what Han-
nah has been saying? I have broken Grandma Snow's yeast
jug into forty pieces, and I am to go and confess to Emily,
and get some yeast."

" I thought it wag the cat that did it ; though, doubtless, it
was your fault not putting it in its place. However, there is
no great harm done, so that you get more yeast to Hannah.'*

" And let Emily know that it is my fault and not Hannah's
that more yeast is needed. Graeme, will you come and have
a walk this bonny day ?"

"You can go and do Hannah's errand, now, and I will
stay with Mrs. Snow, and we will walk together later," said
Graeme.

" And you might bring wee Rosie home with you, if Iier
mother will spare her, and if she wants to come. But there
is no doubt of her wishing to come with you."

"Is anything the matter with your sister, that you follow
her with such troubled e'en?" asked Mrs. Snow, after a mo-
ment's silence.

"Troubled e'en!" repeated Graeme. "No, I don't think
there is anything the matter with her. Do you ? Why should
you think there is anything the matter with her, Janet ?"

" My dear, I was only asking you ; and it was because of
the look that you sent after her — a look that contradicts your
words — a thing that doesna often happen with you, be it said."

532

JAXET's love and 8ERVICK.

P 1

n r

" Did I look troubled ? I don't think thcro is any reason
for it on Hosio's account — any that can be told. I mean I
can only guoss at any cause of trouble she may have. Just
for a mmute, now and then, I have felt a little anxious, per-
haps ; but it is not at all because I think there is anything
seriously wrong with Rosie, or indeed anjihing that Avill not
do her good rather than harm. But oh, Janet ! it is sad that
we camiot keep all trouble away from those we love."

" I canna agree with you, my dear. It would bo ill dono
to keep anything from her that wiU do her good and not evil,
as you say yourself. But well or ill, you canna do it, and it
is foolish and wrong of you to vex yom'self more than is
needful."

*' But I do not, indeed. Just now it was her restless, aim-
less walking up and down that vexed me. I am fooHsh, I
suppose, but it always does."

" I daresay it may tell of an uneasy mind, whiles," said
Mrs. Snow, gravely. "I mind you used to be given to it your-
self in the old times, when you werena at ease with yourself.
But if you don't like it in your sister, you should encourage
her to employ herself in a piu'pose-like manner."

*' Hannah has done it for me this time — I am not sure,
however." For Rosie was standing still at the gate looking
away down the hill towai'ds the village, " thinking her own
thoughts, doubtless," Graeme saic* ' o herself.

" She 's waiting for some one, maybe. I daresay Sandy
has sent some one down to the village for the papers, as this
is the day they mostly come."

" Miss Graeme, my dear," continued IVIrs. Snow, in a little,
" it is time you were thinking of overtaking all the visiting
you'll be expected to do, now that I am better. It will be a
while before you'll get over all the places where they will
expect to see you, for nobody will like to be overlooked."

"Oh, I don't know!" said Graeme. "It is not just Uke
last time, when we were strangers and new to the people.
And we have seen almost everybody already. And I like this
quiet time much best."

JANETS LOVK AND SERVICE,

>33

reason
mean I
Just
an, per-
lything
will not
atl that

ill done

lot evil,

:, and it

than is

5SS, aini-
oolish, I

cs," said

• it your-

ourself.

Lcourage

lot sure,
looldng
ler own

Sandy
I, as this

a httle,
I visiting

vill be a
hicy will
U."

ist Uke

I people,
like this

" But, my dear, it is too late to begin to think fii-st of your
own likes and dislikes now. And it will be good for Rosie,
and you mustna tell uie that you are losing interest in your
Merleville friends, dear ! That would be ungrateful, when
they all have so warm an interest in you."

"No, indeed! I ha^c not lost interest in my Merleville
friends. There ^^•ill never be any place just like Merleville to
me. Our old life here always comes back to mo like a happy,
happy dream. I can hardly remember any troubles that
came to us all those seven y^ars, Janet — till the very end."

" My dear, you had your troubles, plenty of tbem, or you
thought you had ; but the golden gleam of youth hes on your
thoughts of that time, now. TTiere was the going away of the
lads, for one tlung. I mind well you thought those partings
hard to bear."

*' Yes, I remember," said Graeme, gravely, " but even then
we hoped to meet again, and life lay before us all ; and noth-
ing had happened to make us afraid."

" My dear, nothing has happened yet that need make you
afraid. If you mean for Rosie, she must have her share of
the small tribulations that fall to the Ljt of most women, at
one time or other of their hves ; but she is of a cheerful
nature, and not easily daunted ; and dear, yon. have come
safely over rougher bits of road than any that are like to he
before her, and she aye will have you to guide her. And
looking at you, love, and knowing that the ' great peace,' the
Book speaks about, is in your heart and in your life, I have
no fear for your sister, after all that has come and gone to
you."

Graeme leaned back in her chair, silent for a moment, then
she said, gently,

" I am not afi*aid. I cannot think what J have said, Janet,
to make you think I am afraid for Rosie."

*' My dear, you have said notliing. It was the wistful look
in your e'en that made me speak to you about her. And be-
sides, I have noticed Rosie myself. She is not so hght of
heart as she used to be. It may be the anxious time you

. ',' 1

I 1^

634

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

:; ^t'

have had with mo, or it may be tho acldcd years, or it may bo
something that it may bo wiser for you and me not to seem
to SCO. But whatever it is, I am not afraid for Rose. I am
only afraid that you may vex youi'self about her, when there
is no need. There can be no good in that, you know well."

"But I am not vexing myself, Janet, indeed. I will tell
you what I know about it. Do you mind that restless fit
that was on me long ago, when you came to see us, and how
it seemed to me that I must go away ? Well, Rose has come
to the same place in her life, and she would hke to have work,
real work.to do in the world, and she has got impatient of
her useless life, as she calls it. It has come on her sooner
than it came on mo, but that is because the circumstances are
different, I suppose, and I hope it may pass away. For, oh I
Janet, I shrink from the struggle, and the going away from
them all ; and I have got to that tune when one grows con-
tent with just tho little things that come to one's hand to do,
seeing thej' are sent by God, as well as nobler work. But it
is not so with Rose, and even if this wears over, as it did with
me, there ai'e weary days before her ; and no wonder, Janet,
that I follow her with anxious eves."

There was no more said for a moment. They were both
watching Rose, who still stood at the gate, shading her eyes,
and looking down the hill.

" She doesna look like one that has much the matter with
her," said Mrs. Snow. "Miss Graeme, my dear, do you
ken what ails your sister ? "Why has this feverish wish to
be away and at work come upon her so suddenly, if it is a
question that I ought to ask ? "

"Janet, I cannot tell you. I do not know. I can but
guess at it myself, and I may be all wrong. And I think,
perhaps, the best help we can give her, is not to seem to
see, as you said a httle ago. Sometimes I have thought
it might all be set right, if Rose would only speak ; but ov"
can never be sure, and I think, Janet, wo can only v
and see. I do n't believe there is much cause for fear, x
only Rose will have patience."

it may bo
t to seem
JO. I am
lion there
w well."
: wiU tell
cstlcss fit

aiid liDW
has come
ave work,
oatient of
ler sooner
tances are

For, oh I
iway from
frows con-
and to do,
k. But it
it did with
or, Janet,

were both
; her eyes,

atter with
do you
1 wish to
if it is a

can but
I think,
seem to
thought
but ovo
only •v\
fear, i

JANETS LOVE AND SKRVICE.

535

"Then, wherefore should you look so troubled ? Nothing
but wrong-domg on yoiu* sister's part should make you look
like that." For there were tears in Graeme's eyes as slio
watched her sister, and she looked both anxious and afi'aid.

" Wrong-doing," repeated she, with a start. Then she rose
impatiently, but sat down again in a moment. Was it " wrong-
doing" in a woman to let her heart slip unawares and unasked
from her own keeping ? If this was indeed the thing that had
happened to Rose? Or was it "wrong-doing" to come to the
knowledge of one's heart too late, as HaiTy had once hinted
might be the end of Eosie's foolish love of admiration ?

" Wrong-doing," she repeated again, with a sudden stir of
indignation at her heart. " No, that must never be said of Boso.
It must be one of the small tribulations that sooner or later
fall to the lot of most women, as you said yourself, Janet, a
little ago. And it won't do to discuss it, anyway. See, Koso
has opened the gate for some one. Who is coming in ? "

•' My dear," said INIis. Snow, gi'avely, " it was far from my
thought to wish to know about anything that I should not.
It is Sandy she is opening the gate for, and wee Rosie. Ho
has been down for the papers, it seems, and he may have
gotten letters as welL"

" But, Janet," said Graeme, eagerly, " you know I could
not mean that. I could not toU 'you if I were ever so will-
ing. I do not know. I can only guess ; but as for " wrong-
doing — "

" My dear, you needna tell me that. Sandy, man, it must
seem a strange hke thing to the folk in the village to see you
carrying the child that way on your horse before you — you
that have wagons of one kind or another, and plenty of them,
at your disposal. Is it safe for the bairn, think you ? Do
you hke that way of riding, my wee Rosie ? "

"Yes, gamma, I 'ike it," lisped the two years old Rosie,
smiUng brightly.

" It is safe enough, mother, you may be sure of that.' And
as for what the village folk may think, that 's a new thing for
you to ask. It is the best and pleasantest way in the world

i i

530

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

•i J'!

for both Rosie and mc." And looking at the proud, young
father and the liappy child sitting before hun, it was not to
be for a nioment doubted.

" It must be dehghtful," said R030, laughing. " I should
like a ride myself, wee Rosie."

" And wiiy not ? " said ]Mi*s. Snow. " Sandy, man, it is a
M'ondcr to mo that you havena thought about it before.
Have you your habit here, my dear ? Why should you no'
bring young Major or Dandy over, saddled for Miss Rose ? It
would do her all the good in the world to get a gallop in a
day lilie this."

" There u no reason in the world why I should not, if Miss
Rose would like it."

"I would like it very much, ^ot that I need the good of
it especially, but I shall enjoy the pleasure of it. And win you
Iv-^t wee Rosie come with me."

*' If grandma has no objections," said Sandy, laughing.
" But it must be old Major, if you take her."

"Did over any body hear such nonsense? " said Mrs. Snow,
impatiently. " But you '11 need to haste, Sandy, man, or we
shall be having visitors, and then she winna get away."

" Yes, I should not w onder. I saw Mr. Perry coming up
the way ^vith a book in his hand. But I could bring young
Major and Dandy too, and Miss Rose needn 't be kept at homo
then."

Rose laughed merrilj'.

•* SMio ? The minister ? Oh ! fie, Sandy man, you shouldna
speak such nonsense. Wee Rosie, are you no' going to stay
the day with IMiss Graeme and me ? " said M^-s. Snow.

Graeme held u}} her arms for the httle gii-l, but she did not
oflfer to move.

" Will you bide with grannie, wee Rosie ? " asked her father,
pulling back her suu-bonnet, and letting a mass of tangled,
yellow ciu'ls fall over her rosy face.

" Tuni adain Grannie," said the Uttlo gii'l, gravely. She
was too veil pleased with her place to wish to leave it. Her
father laughed.

ti::i:

I, young
s not to

'. should

, it is a
before,
you no'
ose? It
op in a

:, if Miss

good of
will you

aughing.

s. Snow,
n, or we

aing up
g young
at homo

louldna
to stay

I did not

father,
[angled,

She
b. Her

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

537

" She shall come when I bring over Dandy for Miss Bose.
In the meantime, I have soinething for some one here."

" Letters," s;iid Graeme and Rose, in a breath.

" One a piece. Gootl news, I hope. I shall soon be back
again, Miss Rose, with Dandy."

Graeme's letter was fi-om A\'ill., written after having heard
of his sisters' beira- in jMorleville, before he had hea'*l of Mi's.
Snow's recovery. Ho had thought once of coming home with
Mr. Millar, he said, but had changed liis plans, partly because
he wished to accejit an invitation he had received from his
uncle in the norih, and partly for other reasons. He was
staging at present with IVIrs. Millar, who was " one of a
thousand," wrote AYill., with enthusiasm, "and, indeed, so is
her son, Mr. Ruthven, but you know Allan, of old. And then
he went on to other things.

Graeme read the letter fiist herself, and then to Mra. Snow
and Rose. In the midst of it ]\Ir. Snow came in. Rose had
read her's, but held it in her hand still, even after they had
ceased to discuss Will. 's.

" It is from Fanny" said she, at last. " You can read it to
Mrs. Snow, if you like, Graeme. It is all about baby and his
perfections, or nearl}- all. I will go and put on my habit for
my ride. Uncle Sampson come with me, won't you ? Have
you anything particular to do to-day ? "

" To ride ? " said Mr Snow. " I *d as Ueve go as not, and
a little rather — if you'll promise to take it moderate. I
should like the cliaise full better than the saddle, I guess,
though."

Rose laughed.

" I will promise to let ym lake it moderate. I am not
afraid to go alone, if you do n't want to ride. But I should n't
fancy tlio chaise to-day. A good gallop is just what I want,
I think."

She went to proi)are for hor ride, and Graeme read Fanny's

lettoi'. It was, as Rose had said, a record of her darhng's

pretty sayings and doings, and gentle regrets that his aunts

could not have the happiness of being at home to watch his

23*

538

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

k'^

^'0

. ' 1 \' J •

i ' '-■ i
■ f

1 , :.

,11 ii;
1 li

:1; ''i

iHli M

daily growth in wisdom and beauty. Thm there were a few
wordy at the end.

" Harry is properly indignant, as we all are, at }our hint
that you may see Norman and Hilda, before you see home
again. Harry says it is quite absurd to speak of such a thing,
but we have seen verj' little of him of late. I hojie we nmy
see more of him now that '• his friend and partner*' has re-
tmned. He has been quite too much taken up with his
httle Amy, to think of us. However, I promised 'Mi: ^lillar
I would say nothing of that, bit of news. He mast tell you
about it himself. He has a great deal of Scottish news, but I
should only spoil it by trying to tell it ; and I think it is quite
possible that Hany may fulfill his threat, and come for you
himself. But I suppose he wiD give you fair warning," and
so on.

Graeme closed the letter, sajdng nothing.

" It is not just very clear, I think," said lilrs. Snow.

" Is it not ? " said Graeme. " I did not notice. Of course,
it is all nonsense about Harry coming to take us home,"

" And who is httle Miss Amy, that she speaks of ? Is she a
Mend of your brother Harrj' ? Or is she Mr. Millar's friend ?
Mrs. Arthur docsna seem to make it clear ? "

"IMiss Amy Roxbrny," said Graeme, opening her letter
again. " Does she not make it plain ? Oh, well ! we shall
hoar more about it, she says. I sujipose Harry has got back
his old fancy, that we are to go and hve with him if 3Ir.
Millar goes elsewhere. Indeed, I don't understand it myself ;
but we shall hear more soon I daresay. Ah! here is
llosio."

"And hero is Dandy," said Rose, coming in with her
habit on. " And hero is wee llosio come to keep you com-
pany while I am away. And h'^re is Mi*. Snow, on old
]\I:ijor. Don't expect ua home till night. AVe shall have a
day of it, shall we not V "

They had a very quiet day at home. Wee Ilosie came and
went, and told her little tales to the content of her grand-
juother and Graeme, who made muf;h of the httle girl, as

Janet's love and service.

530

her
com-
old
lave a

may well be supposed. She was a bonny little creature ;
with her father's blue eyes and fair curls, and sho^^'ing already
some of the quaint, {2^'ave ways that Graeme remembered in
her mother as a child.

In the afternoon, Emily came with her baby, and they
were all happy and busy, and had no time for anxious or
troubled thoughts. At least, they never spoke a word that
had reference to anything sad. But, when Graema read the
letters again to Emily, Mrs. Snow noticed that she did not
read the part about their going West, or about little Amy,
or about Hany's coming to take them home. But her eye
lingered on the words, and her thoughts went back to some
old trouble, she saw by her grave look, and by the silence
that fell upon her, even in the midst of her pretty child's
play with the httle ones. But never a word was spoken
about anything sad. And, by and by, visitors came, and Mrs.
Snow, being tired, went to lie down to rest for a while. But
when Rose and IVIr. Snow came home, they found her stand-
ing at the gate, ready to receive them.

CHAPTER XLII.

' ' "T~ WANT to know ! Now do tell ; if there ain't mother
I standing at the gate, and opening it for us, too," ex-
claimed Mr. Snow, in astonishment and delight. That is
the farthest she 's been yet, and it begins to look a Httle like
getting well, now, don't it ? "

"I hope nothing has happened," said Rose, a little
anxiously.

" I guess not — ^nothing to fret over. Her face don't look'
like it Well, mother, you feel pretty smart to-night, don't
you ? You look first-rate."

" I am just as usual," said Mrs. Snow, quietly. " But what
has kept you so long ? We were beginning to wonder about
you."

*• Has anything happeiied ? " said Rose, looking over IMrs.
Snow's head, at a httle crowd of people coming out at the
door.

" We have visitors, that is all. The minister is here, and
a friend of your's — your brother Harry's partner. He has
brought news — not bad news, at least he doesna seem to
think so, nor Miss Graeme. I have hardly heard it myself,
yet, or seen the young man, for I was tired and had to lie
down. But you '11 hear it yourself in due time."

Rose reined her horse aside.

"Take care, dear," said Mrs. Snow, as she sprang to the
ground without assistance. "There is no need for such
haste. You might have waited for Sandy or some one to
help you, I think."

" What is it, Graeme ? " said Rose, for her sister looked
flushed and excited, and there were traces of tears on her
(540)

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

541

mother
»o," ex-
That is
ttle like

a little

)n't look
tit, don't

5ut what
ler about

er IMrs.
at the

ere, and
He has
seem to
myself,
d to lie

; to the
Dr such
one to

looked
Ion her

cheeks she was sure. But she did not look anxious — cer-
tainly not unhappy.

"Rosie, dear, Charhe has come."

" Oh ! Ch;u-Iio has come, has he ? That is it, is it ? " said
Rose, with a long breath.

Yes, tliero was 'Mr. Millar, offering his hand and smiling —
" exactly hkc himself," Rose thought, but she could not tell
very well, for her eyes were dazzled with the red light of the
setting sun. But she was very glad to see him, she told
him; and she told the minister she was very glad to see him, too,
in the very same tone, the next minute. There was not much
time to say anything, however, for Hannah — whose patience
had been tried by the delay — announced that tea was on the
table, in a tone quite too peremptory to be trifled with.

*' Rose, you are tired I am sure. Never mind taking off
your habit till after tea."

Rose confessed herself thed after her long and rapid ride.

" For I left Mr. Snow at Major Spring's, and went on a
long way by myself, and it is just possible, that, after all, you
are right, and I have gone too fiir for the first ride ; for see,
I am a httle shaky," added she, as the teacup she passed to
Mr. Snow trembled in her hand.

Then she asked Mr. Millar about the news he had brought
them, and whether all were well, and a question or two bo-
sides ; and then she gave herself up to the pleasure of listen-
ing to the conversation of the minister, and it came into
Graeme's mind that if Hariy had been there he would have
said she was amusing herself with a little serious flirtation.
Graeme did not think so, or, if she did, it did not make her
angry as it would have made llany ; for though she said
little, except to the grave wee Rosie Nasmjiih, whom she had
taken under her care, she looked very bright and glad. Rose
looked at her once or twice, a little startled, and after a
while, in watcliing her, evidently lost the thread of the
minister's entertainiog discourse, and answered him at
random.

"I have a note from Hany," said Graeme, as they left the

642

.i'Anet'8 love and service.

li«

WC: \

^irlH

Hri

It is.

Go and take off your habit. You

tea-table. " Hero
look hot and tired."

In a little while the vitiitors were g6ne, and IVIr. INIillar was
being put through a coui'se of questions by Mr. Snow.
Graeme sat and hstened to them, and thought of Rose, who,
all the time, was sitting up stairs with Harry's letter in her
hand.

It was not a long letter. Rose had time to read it a dozen
times over, Graeme knew, but still she lingered, for a reason
she could not have told to any one, which she did not even care
to make very plain to herself. ]Mr. Snow was asking, and IVIr.
IVIillar was answering questions about Scotland, and Will.,
and Mr. Ruthven, and every word that was said was intensely
interesting to her ; and yet, while she listened eagerly, and
put in a word now and then that showed how much she
cared, she was conscious all the time, that she was listening
for the sound of a movement overhead, or for her sister's
footstep on the stair. By and by, as Charlie went on, in
answer to Mr. Snow's questions, to tell about the state of
agriculture in his native shire, her attention wandered alto-
gether, and she listened only for the foots* ^ps.

" She may perhaps think it strange that I do not go up at
once. I daresay it is foolish in me. Very likely this news
will be no more to her than to me."

" Where is your sister ? " said Mrs. Snow, who, as well as
Graeme, had been attending to two things at once. " I doubt
the foolish lassie has tired herself with riding too far."

" I will go and see," said Graeme.

Before she entered her sister's room Rose called to her.

"Is it you, Graeme? What do you think of Harry's
news ? He has not lost much time, has he ? "

"I was siu-prised," said Graeme.

Rose was busy brushing her hair.

" Suri^risedl I should think so. Did you ever think such
a thing might happen, Graeme ? "

This was Harry's letter.

" My Deml Sisters, — I have won my Amy I You cannot

jankt's love and service.

543

[arry's

k such

janiiot

be more astonished than I am. I know I am not good
enough for her, but I love her dearly, and it will go hard
with me if I don't make her happy. I only want to be
assui'ed that you are both delighted, to make my happiness
complete."

Tlirowing her hair back a little, Rose read it again. Tliis
was not quite all. There was a postscript over the page,
which Rose had at first overlooked, and she was not sui-e
that Graeme had seen it. Besides, it had nothing to do
with the subJFict matter of the note.

" Did the thought of such a thing ever come into your
mind?" asked she again, as she laid the letter down.

"Yes," said Graeme, slowly. "It did come into my mind
more than once. And, on looking back, I rather wonder that
I did not see it all I can remember now a good many
things that looked hke it, but I never was good at seeing such
affairs approaching, you know."

" Ai'e you glad, Graeme ?"

" Yes, I am glad. I believe I shall be very glad when I
have had time to think about it."

" Because Harry's happiness won't be complete unless you
are, you know," said Rose, laughing.

" I am sure Harry is quite sincere in what he says about
it," said Graeme.

" It is not to be doubted. I daresay she ij a nice httle
thing ; and, after all, it won't make the same difference to us
that Fanny's coming did."

" No, if wc are to consider it with reference to oui*sclves.
But I think I am very glad for Harry's sake."

" And that is more than wo could have said for Arthur.
However, there is no good in going back to that now. It has
all turned out very <vell. "

" Things mostly do, if people will have patience," said
Graeme, " and I am sui'c this will, for Harry, I mean. I was
always inclined to like little Amy, only — only, we saw very
little of her you know — and — ^yes, I am sm*e I shall love her
dearly."

544

JANETS LOVK AND SERVICE.

, m

? I

fi!!H

; r

" Well, you must mako hasfco to tell Harry so, to complete
his happiness. And ho is very much astonished at his good
fortune,' said Rose, taking up the letter again. *' 'Not good
enough for her,' he says. Tliat is the humility of true love, I
sui)pose ; and, really, if ho is pleased, we may bo. I daresay
she is a nice little thing."

" She is more than just a nice httle thing. You should hear
what ]VIr. Millar says of her."

" He ought to know ! * Poor Charlie,' as Harry calls him in
the pride of his success. Go down stau's, Graeme, and I will
follow in a minute ; I am nearly ready."

The postscript which Rose was not sure whether Graeme
had seen, said, " poor Charlie," and intimated that Harry's
sisters owed him much kindness for the trouble he was taking
in going so far to carry them the news in person. Not Harry's
own particular news, Rose supposed, but tidings of Will., and
of all that was likely to interest them from both sides of the sea.

" I would like to know why he calls him * poor Charlie,' "
said Rose, with a shrug. " I suppose, however, we must all
seem like objects of compassion to Harrj', at the moment of
his triumph, as none of us have what has fallen to him."

Graeme went dovNH without a word, smiling to her-
self as she went. She had seen the postscript, and she
thought she knew why Harry had written " poor Charhe,"
but she said nothing to Rose. The subject of conversation
had changed dm'ing her absence, it seemed.

"I want to know ! Do tell !" Mr. Snow was saying. "I
call that first-rate news, if it is as you say, Mr. Millar. Do
the gu'ls know it ? Graeme, do you know that Harry is going
to be married?" ,

" Yes, so HaiTy tolls me."

" And who is the lady ? Is it any one we Imow about ?
Roxbury," repeated ^Ir. Snow, with a puzzled look. " But it
seems to me I thought I heard different. I don't seem to
imderstand."

He looked anxiously into the face of his Avife as though she
could help him.

)mplete
is good
ot good
love, I
daresay

lid hear

3 him in
id I will

Graeme
Harry's
IS taking
■j Harry's
Vill., and
f the sea.
Iharlie,' "
must all
l)ment of
m."

to her-
and she
Charho,"

crsation

ar. Do
IS going

about ?

" But it

Iscem to

)ugh sho

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

" That's not to be wondered at," said sho, smiling,
seems Miss Graeme herself has been taken by surprise.

545

"It
But

she is well pleased for all that. Harry has been in no great
hmTy, I think."

"But that ain't just as I understood it," persisted Mr.
Snow. " What does Rose say ? She told me this afternoon,
when we were riding, something or other, but it sartain wa'n't
that."

"It could hardly be that, since the letter came when you
were away, and even IMiss Graeme knew nothing of it till sho
got the letter,'" said Mrs. Snow, ^vith some impatience.

" Rosie told me," went on Mr. Snow. " Here she is. What
was it you were telling me this afternoon about — about oui'
friend here — ?"

" Oh ! I told you a great many things that it would not do
to repeat," and though Rose laughed, she reddened, too, and
looked appealingly at Graeme.

" Was n't Roxbury the name of the lady, that you told me
was—"

" Oh ! Uncle Sampson ! Never mind."

"Dear mo," said Mrs. Snow, "what need you make a
mj'stery out of such plain reading. Miss Graeme has gotten
a letter telling her that her brother Harry is going to be mar*
ried ; and what is there so wonderful about that ?"

" Just so," said Mr. Snow. He did not understand it the
least in the world, but he understood that, for some reason or
other, Mrs. Snow wanted nothing more said about it, so ho
meant to say no more ; and, after a minute, he made Rose
Btart and laugh nervously by the energj^ with which ho re-
peated, " Just so ;" and still he looked from Graeme to IMr.
Millar, as though he expected them to tell him something.

"Harry's letter gives the news, and that is all," said
Graeme.

" But I cannot understand yoiu" sm'prise," said IMr. Millar,
not to Mr. Snow, but to Graeme. " I thought you must have
seen it all along."

" Did you see it all along ?" asked IVL*. Snow, looking queer.

,M'

540

JANEl'S LOVE AND 8EUVICK.

|, ■(

■■ I

!'■

ifl]

" I was in Harry's confidence ; but oven if I had not been,
I am siu'o I must have seen it. I almost think I knew what
was coming before he knew it himself, at the very first."

" The very first ?" repeated Graeme. " When was that ?
In the spring? Before the time we went to JNlrs. Roxbiu-y's,
on the evenmg of the Convocation ?"

" Oh ! yes ! long before that — before Miss Rose came homo
fi'om the West. Indeed, I think it was love at first sight, as
far as IlaiTy was concerned," added ]Mr. Millar, with an em-
baiTassed laugh, coming suddenly to the knowledge of the
fact that Mr. Snow was regarding him with curious eyes. But
Mr. Snow turned his attention to Rose.

" W^hat do 1J0U say to that ?"' asked ho.
• I have notliing to say," said Rose, pettislily. ** I was not
in Harry's confidence."

" So it seems," said Mr. Snow, meditatively.

" I am sure you will like her when you know her better,"
said Ml-. IVIillar.

" Oh ! if Harry likes her that is the chief thing," said Rose,
with a shi-ug. " It won't matter much to the rest of us — I
mean to Graeme and me."

" It will matter very much to us," said Graeme, " and I
know I shall love her dearly, and so will you, Rosio, when she
is our sister, and I mean to write to Harry to-morrow — and
to her, too, perhaps."

" Sho wants very much to know you, and I am sure you
will like each other," said Mi*. Millar looking deprecatingly at
Rose, who was not easy or comfortable in her mind any one
could see.

"Just tell me one thing. Rose," said Mr. Snow. "How
came you to suppose that — "

But the question was not destined to be answered by Rose,
at least not then. A matter of greater importance was to be
laid before her, for the door opened suddenly, and Hannah
put in her head.

" Where on earth did you put the yeast-jug. Rose ? I have
taken as many steps as I want to after it ; if you had put it

i!.i\

»t been,

w what

b."

,s that?

!tbm*y's,

homo
ught, as

1 an em-
3 of the
res. But

was not

• better,"

aid Rose,
of us — ^I

" and I
vhen she
>w — and

luro you
mgly at
any one

"How

)y Rose,

[as to be

[annah

I have
put it

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

547

back in its pltice it would have jiaid, I g^icss. It would hiivo
suited nv, hotter, and I guess it would have suited better all
round."

Her voice betraved a stmpfglo between oftendeddi''iiitv and
decided crossness. Rose was a little hystericd, Graeme
thought, or she never would have laughed about such an
inil>ortant matter in Ilamiah's face. For Ilaimah knew her
OA\'n value, which was not small in the household, and she
was not easily propitiated when a slight was given or un-
agined, as no one know better than Rose. And before com-
pany, too ! — company with whom Hannah had not been
"made acquainted," as Hannah, and the sisterhood generally
in IMerleville, as a nile, claimed to be. It was dreadful te-
merity on Rose's part.

" Oh ! Hannah, I forgot all about it."

But the door was suddenly closed. Rose hastened after her
in haste and confusion.

Mr. Snow had been deeply meditating, and he was evidently
not aware that anything particular had been happening, for
he turned suddenly to IVIr. ]\Iillar, and said,

" I understood that it was you who was — eh — who
was — keeping company with IMiss Roxbury ?"

" Did 3*ou think so. Miss EUiott," said Charhe, in some as-
tonishment.

" Mr. Snow," said his wife, in a voice that brought him to
her side in an instant. " You may have read in the Book,
how there is a time to keep silence, as well as a time to speak,
and the bau'n had no thought of having her words rei^oatcd
again, though she might have said that to you."

She spoke very softly, so that the others did not hear, and
"Ml'. Snow would have looked penitent, if he had not looked
so bewildered. Raising her voice a little, she added,

" You might just go out, and tell Hannah to send Jabez
over to Emily's about the yeast, if she has taken too many
steps to go herself ; for Miss Rose is tired, and it is growing
dark; — and besides, there is no call for her to go Hannah's mes-
sages — though you may as well no' say that to her, either."

•».

' 1

m ■■M

54S

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

But the door opened, and Rose came in again.

" I can't cvi'n find the juy," she «aid, pretending' gi*eat con-
stcrnjition. " And this is the second one I have been tho
death of. Oh ! hero it is. I must have loft it here in tho
morning, and wee Rosie s flowers are in it ! Oh ! yes, dear, I
must go. Hannah is going, and I must go ^^•ith her. She is
just a httle bit cross, you know. And, besides, I want to toll
her the news," and she went away.

l\Ir. Snow, feeling that ho had, in some way, been compro-
mising himself, went and sat dovm. bosido his wife, to bo out
of the temi:)tation to do it again, and Mr. ]Millar said again,
to Graeme, voi-y softly this ijmo,

" Did you think so, Miss EUiott ?"

Graeme hesitated.

" Yes, Charlie. I must confess, there did, more than once,
come into my mind tho possibility that HaiTy and his fiiend
and jiai'tner might find themselves rivals for the favor of the
sweet little Amy. But you must remember, that "

But Charlie intciTuptcd her, eagerly.

"And did — did your sister think so, too ? No, dc't an-
swer mo " added he, suddenly rising, and going first to

the window to look out, and then, out at the door. Li a little
Graeme rose, and went out too, and followed him down the
path, to the gate, over which ho was loaning. There was no
time to speak, however, before they heai 1 tho voices of Rose
and Hannah, coming toward them. Hannah was propitiated,
Graeme knew by tho sound of her voice. IMr- Millar opened
the gate for them to pass, and Graeme said,

" You have not been long, Rosie."

" Are ^ou here, Graeme," said Rose, for it was quite dark,
by this time. " Hannah, this is TJr. Millar, my brother
Harry's fi'iend and partner." And then she added, with
gi'oat gravity, according to the most approved Merlevillo for-
mula of introduction, " Mr. Millar, I make you acquainted
with Miss Lovejoy."

" I am pleased to make your acquaintance, IVIr. IVIillar.
I hope I see you well," said Miss Lovejoy, with benignity. If

JANKT S LOVK AND SlJJVICi;.

549

?at con-

cen tho

in tho

dear, I

She is

it to toll

compro-
o bo out
(1 again,

lan once,
lis friend
or of tlie

dc't an-

Ig first to

11 a littlo

[lowii the

was no

of Rose

Lpitiated,

lr opened

lite dark,

brother

xl, with

alio for-

luainted

jVIillar.
lity. H

Mr. Millar was not qnit(> criual to the occasion, I\Iis,s Lovcjny
was, and she said exactly what was prDjier tf) bo said in tlio
circumstances, and neither Graeme nor lloso needed to say
anything till they got into tho house again.

" There ! that is over," said Hose, with a sigh of rchef.

" Tlio getting of tho yeast ?" said Graeme, laughing.

" Yes, and tho pacification of Miss Lovojoy."

It was not quite over, however, Graeme thought in tho
morning. For Rose seemed to think it necessary to give a
a good deal of her time to household matters, whether it
was still with a view to tho good humor of Hannah or not,
was not easy to say. But she could only give a divided at-
tention to theii' visitor, and to the account of all that ho
and \V^ill. had dono and enjoyed together. Graeme and
he walked up and down the garden for awhile, and when
IMi's. Snow had lisen, and was m tho sitting-roon), they came
and sat down beside her, and, after a time, Rose came too.
But it was Graeme who asked questions, and who drew jMi\
Millar out, to tell about their adventures, and misadventiu'os,
and how Will, had improved in all respects, and how like his
father all tho old people thought him. Even Mrs. Snow
had more to say than Rose, especially when ho went on to
tell about Clayton, and the changes that had taken place
there.

" Will, fancied, before ho went, that ho remembered all the
places distinctly, and was very loth to confess that ho had
been mistaken. I suppose, that his imagination had had as
much to do with his idea of his native jilace, as his memory,
and when, at last, we went down the glen where yom* mother
used to hve, and where he distinctly remembered going to
see her with you, not long before you all came away, ho ac-
knowledged as much. He stopped across tho bum at the
widest part, and then he told me, laughing, that he had al-
ways thought of the burn at that place, as being about as
wide as the Merle river, just below the mill briilge, however
wide that may be. It was quite a shock to him, I assm-e
you. And then tho kirk, and the manse, and all the village,

650

JAKKT 6 LOVE AND SEIIVK'E.

'f «.,

looked oUl, and small, and queer, when he eamc to compai'e
thoni V, ith the pictures of tlieni ho had kept in his mind, all
these years. The <,'arden he remembered, antl the lane be-
yond it, Imt I iliink the only things he found quite as ho ex-
pected i() find them, ^vero tho labunuim tre<!H, in tliat lane,"
and on Charlie went, from one thing to another, drawn on
by a (piestion, put now and then by Graeme, or Mrs. Snow,
whenever he made a pause.

But all that was said need not be told here. By and bj',
l)e rose and went out, and when ho came back, he held an
open book on his hand, and on one of its t)pen pages lay a
Bpray of withered ivy, gathered, ho said, ftoi\i the kirkyard
wall, from a great branch that hung down over tho spot
where theii* mother lay. And when lie had laid it down on
(Jraeme's lap, ho tnrned and went out again.

" "^ mind the spot well," said Mrs. Snow, softly.

"I mind it, too," said (Jraemo.

Ro.se did not " mind" it, nor any other spot of her native
land, ntu* the young mother who had lain so many yearn be-
neath tho drooping ivy. But sho stooped to touch with her
lips, t!io faded leaves that spoke of her, and then she laid her
cheek down on Graeme's knee, and did not speak a word,
except to say that slie had (piite forgotten alk

By and by, Mr. Snow came in, and sometliing was said
about showing IMerlevillo to their visitor, and so arranging
matters that time should be made to pass pleasantly to him.

" Oh ! as to that, he seems no' ill to please/' said Mrs. Snow.
" Miss Graeme might take him down to tho village to ]\Ir.
Grt'eueaf's and young Mr. Merle's, if sho likes ; but, as to
letting him see Merleville, I think the thing that is of most
nnportanco is, that all Merleville should see him."

" There is something in that. I don't suppose Merleville
is any more to him than any other place, except that Hairy
and the rest had then* homo here, for a spell. But all tho
]M(!rleville folks will want to boo Jn'in, I expect."

liOKO l.iiighiiigly suggested that a town meeting should bo
called for the })uvj)0se.

:Ci

;ompare
lind, all
hmo bc-
,s ho ex-
it lane,"
rawn on
I. Snow,

and by,
held an
[CH lay a
virkyard
lie spot
Town on

r native
,'oara be-
witli her
laid her
a word,

vviis said
[ranging

to him.

. Snow.

to Air.
It, as to
lot" most

n'loville
llan-y
all tho

iould bo

jani;t s lovk and sekvice.

551

" Well, I calculate that won't bo necessary. If he stays
over Sunday, it will do as well. The folks will have a chance
to see him at meeting, though, I Rup])os^> it wcmt bo boht to
toll him so, before he goes. Do yon suii[>oso he means to
stay ovoi:^ Sunday, Rosie V"

" I have n't asked him," said Rose.

" It will hkely depend on how he is entertained, how hmg
ho stavs," said Airs. Snow. " I daresav ho will be in no
huri'y to got home, for a day or two. And Kosie, my dear,
you must help your sister to make it pleasant for your broth-
er's friend."

" Oh ! ho 's no' ill to please, as you said yourself," answer-
ed Rose.

It was well that ho was not, or her failure to do her part
in the w*ay of amusing liim, might have sooner fall(>n under
general notice. They walked down to the village in tho after-
noon, first to Air. Alorlo's, and then to Air. ( Irccnleaf 's.
Here, Alaster Elliott at once took possession of Rose, and
they wont away together, and nothing more was seen of them,
till tea had been waiting for some time. Then they came in,
and Air. Perry came with them. Ho stayed to tea, of course,
and made himself agi'oeable, as ho always did, and when they
went home, he said he would walk with them part of the
way. He had most of the talk to himself, till they came to
tho foot of tho hill, when ho bade them, reluctantly, good-
night. They were very quiet tho rest of the way, and when
they reached homo, Hi sisters went up stairs at once to-
gether, and though it was quite dark, neither of them seem-
ed in a great h. vr to go down again.

" Rose," said Cir?'aemo, in a little, " where ever did you
moot Air. Perry this aficruoon ? And why did you bring liini
to Air. Grc(;nloaf's with you?"

"I did nt)t bring him to Air. (Jrooiik^if 's. Ilo came of his
own free will. And I did not mc 1 hiia iinywhcro. Ho tol-
lowcd us down past the mill. AVe v.erc going for oak leaves.
Elliott had seen some \ovy pretty ores th(;rc, and T sui)pose Air.
Perry had seen them, too. Are you coming down, (rraeiao ?"

652

JANKT ri L(JVi: AND ftKUVlCE.

" In a little. Don't wjiit for nie, if jou wish to go."

" Oh ! I am in no liasto," said lloso, milting' down by tho
window. "What arc you going to say to nic, <Jracmo?"

But if Gracne had anything to say, .she decided not U) say
it then.

"I suppo.so \\c ought to go down."

Rose foUowed her in silence. They found Mr. and 'Mrs.
Snow alone.

"Mr. ^lillar has just stepped out," said Mr. Snow. "So
you had ihc niinistiu' to-night, again, eh, Rosie ? It seems to
me, he is g(!tling pretty fond of visiting, ain't he V "

Rose laughed.

" I am siu'o tliat is a good thing. Tlic people will like
that, won't tlie}' ? "

"The i)eople Ito goes to see -.ull, I don't doubt."

" AVell, we have no reason to coini)lahi. He has given us
our share oi iiis visits, always," said Mrs. Sncjw, in a tone,
that her h!isl>and knew was meant to jiut an end to the «li.s-
cussion of the subject. Graemo was not so ob.sen'ant, how-
ever.

"It was hardly a visit he made at Mr. Gr(>( nlcaf 's to-night
He came in just before tea, and left when we left, iujuiedialcly
after. He walked with us to tlie foot of the hill."

"He was explaining to Elliott and uk^ the cliemical '-hange
that takes place in the leaves, that makes the Ix-autiful
autumn coUn's, wi wer(> admiring so nnicli," said Rose. " Ho
is great it) botany and chemistry, Elliott says."

And then it came out how lie had crossed the bndgo,
and found them under tho oak trees behind the mi-'. jinJ
what talk tluMe had bc(!n about the sunset and the le.iVCH,
and a goo<l d(>al nii,re. ^Ir. Snow turned an amu.sed v<'t
doubtful look from lier to bis wife ; but ]\Ii.s. Snow's clft.sely
shut lii»s said .so plainly, " lea.>>t said soonest mended," that
ho shut his lips, too.

It would have been as well if (Jraeme laul done so, also, hIjo
thought afterwards ; but sIk- had made up brr mind to say
bomething to her sister that night, whither wlu- hketl it in* not,

JANKT h LuVi; AM) KKKVICK.

553

•haiige
.'iintiful
"Ho

(SO, (sho

to Kjiy

loriiot,

and so stivncliufj lu'liind hor, ;is she was brushing out liorhair,
sho said,

"I think it was rather foolish in Mr. Perry to conic to Mr.
Greenh>af's to-ninht, and to come away with us afterwju'ds."

*'Do vou think si)V" said llose.

"YcH. And 1 fancied Mr. and Mrs. (Jreonleaf tliou^^ht so,
too. T saw them cxchan^'ing glances more than once."

"Did yonV It is to bo hoped the minister did not sec
them."

"Merlcvillo peoj)le are all on the watch — and they arc so
fond of talking. It is not at all nice, I think."

"Oil, well, I don't know. It dei)endH a little on wh;i.t they
say," said Kose, knotting up her hair. "And I don't suppose
Mr. Perrv will hoar it."

" I have commenced wrong," said ( Jraeme to herself. " IJiit
I must just say a word to her, now I have began. It was of
oureelves I was thinking, Host! — of yon, rather. .Viid it is
not nice to be talked about. Ivo.sic, tell me just how much
you civre about Mr. Perry."

"Tell me jnst how much ;/nu chyo al)out him, dear," said
Rose.

"I eare quite enough for him, to hope that he will not be
annoyed or made luihappy. Do you really earj for him,
llosie?"

"Do von, Graeme?"

" Ro.se, I am quite in earnest. I see — lam afraid the g »d
foolish man wants you to can- for him, lUid if you don't "

"WeU, dear— ifid.m't?"

"If you don't, ytm must not act so that ho njay fancy you
do, llose. I think there is some dan;\e»' in his curing fiu*
you."

"He cares <iuit(> as much for y(»u as he cares for me,
Graeme, and with better reason.'*

"Dear, I have not thought about hi.s earing for either of
us till lately. Indeed, I )iever let the thought tioiibh me till
last night, after Mr. Millai- came, and again, to-night, llosie,
you must not be angry with what I sav."

554

JANKT8 LOVE AND SEUVICli:.

,i1

" Of course not. But I tliink you must dispose of Mr.
Perry, before you bring another name into your accusation ;
Graeme, deai*, I don't ciu'o a [>in for Mr. Pcny, nor ho for
me, if that wiM please you. But you are not half so clever at
this sort of thing as Harry. You should have begun at once
by accusing me of claiming admiration, and flirting, and all
thai It is best to come to the point at once."

" You said you would not be ai^gi'y, Rosie."

" Did I ? Well, I am not so sure about it as I was a min-
ute ago. And what is the use of vexing one another. Don't
say any more to-night."

Indeed, what could be fcaid to Hose in that mood. So
Graeme shut her lips, too.

In the mean time Mr. Snc w had op"r>cd his, in the privacy
of their chamber.

" It begins to look a little hko it, don't it ? " said he.

He got no answer.

" I 'd a little rather it had been Graeme, but Rosie would
bo a sight better tlian neither of thcni."

"I 'm by no means sure of that," said INIrs. Snow, sharply.
" Rosie's no' a [^ood baii'n just now, and I 'm no' weel pleased
with hei*."

" Don't be hard on Rosie," said jMi*. Snow, gently.

"Hard on her! You ought to have more sense by this
time. Rosic^'s no' thinking about the minister, and he hasna
been thinking o' her till lately — only men ai'e such fools.
Forgive me for saying it about the minister."

" Well, I thought, myself, it was Graeme for a spell, and
I 'd a little rather it would be. She's older, and she's just
right m every way. It would be a blessing to more than the
minister. It seems as though it was just the right thing.
Now, don't it?"

"I caima say. It is none the more likely to come to pass
becAUSC of that, as you might ken yourself by this time," said
his wife, gravely.

"Oh, well, I don't know about that. There 'b iUeck and
Emily."

JANET 8 LOVE AND SERVICE.

655

pass
said

aud

" Hoot, tie, man ! They cared for one another, and neither
Miss Graeme, nor her sister, care a penny piece for yon man
— for the minister, I mean."

" You don't think him good enough," said ]VIr. Snow, dis-
contentedly.

"Nonsense! I' think him good enough for anybody that
will take him. He is a very good man — what there is o' liim,"
added she, under her breath. "But it will be time enough
to speak about it, when there is a chance of its hai)poning.
I 'm no weol pleased with Rosio. If it werena that, as a rule,
I dinna like to meddle with such matters, I would have a
word with her myself. Thu Ijairn doesna ken her ain mind,
I'm thinkuig."

The next day was rainy, but not so rainy as to prevent Mr.
Snow from fulfilling liis promise to take Mr. ]\Iillar to see
some wonderful (Uittle, which bade fail' to make ^Ir. Nasmyth's
a celebrated name in the coimty, and before they came homo
again, ]N^. Snow took the opportunity to say a w<»rd. not to
Hose, but to (Iraeme, with regard to her.

" \Vhat ails Kosic; at your brother's partner, young Mr.
Millar?" asked she. "1 thought tluiy would have been
fiiends, having known one another so long."

"Friends!" repeated (Jraeme. "Are they not friends?
Wliat makes you speak in tliat way, Janet? "

"Friends they are not," repeated Mrs. Snow, eniphatieally.
" But whether tliey are less than friends, or more, I canna
weel make out. Maybe you <'an help me, dear."

"I cannot, indeed," said (Iraeme, laughhig ahttlc uncaHJly.
"I am airaid Charlie's visit is not to give any of usunniingh'd
])leasure."

"It is easy seen what sh< is i«) him, poor lad, and J canna
but think — my dear, you should s])eak to your sist-r."

" But, Janet, llosic is not an easy perst)n to 8p(»ak to al oUi
some things. And, besides, it is not easy to know whether
one may not do harm, rather tl>an g<'K>d, l)y Hp( aking. I d'-d
HiKJak to \\vv last night ahout — about Mr. Perry."

"About the miui.st(r! And v hat <lid slie answer ? Si*«

650

JANETS LOVK AND SKUVICE.

I,|:

A '5

■I

cares little about him, I 'in thinking. It 's uo' pretty in her
to amuse herself so openly at liis expense, poor man, though
there 's some exeuse, too — when he sliows so little discretion."

" But, anmsuig herself, Janet ! That is rather hard on
Rosie. It is not that, I think."

" Is it not ? "What is it, then ? The bairn is not in ear-
nest I hope it may all come to a good ending."

" Oh ! Janet ! I hope it may. But I don't like to think of
endhigs. Rosie must belong to some one else some day, I
suppose. The best thing I can wish for her is that I may
\o9iQ her — for her sake, but it is not a happy thing to think
of for mme."

" Miss Graeme, my dear, that is not Uke you."

*' Lidccd, Janet, it is just like me. I can't bear to think

about it. As for the minister ." Graeme shrugged her

shouldei-s.

" You ncedna trouble yourself about the minister, my dear.
It will no' be him. If your friend yonder would "but take
heart of grace — I have my own thoughts."

" Oh ! I don't know. We need not be in a huiTy."

*' But, dear, think what you were tcUmg me the other day
about yom* sister going out by herself to seek her fortune.
Surelv, that would be far worse."

" But sh(» woulil not have to go by herself. I should go
wilh h(;r ; and Janet, I have sometimes the old dread of
change upon me, as I used to have long ago."

" But, my dear, why should you? All the changes in our
lot are in good hands. I dinna need to tell you that after
all these years. And as for the minister, you needna be afraid
for him."

(iraeme laughed ; and though the entrance of Rose pre-
^ent<;d any more being said, she laughed again to herself, in a
way ti) excite her sister's astonishment.

'I do beli(>ve Janet is pitying me a little, because of the
minister's inconstnncy," she said to herself. "Why am I
limghing at it, Rosie '? Yon nnist ask IVFrs. Snow."

"My dear, how can I t<;ll your sister's thoughts'? It is at

JANETS LOVE AND bEltVICE.

bin

go
of

them, hIio ib laugliinp^, and I think the nnnistcr has something
to do with it, though it is not hko her, either, to laugh at
folk in an unkindly way."

"It is more like me, you think," said Rose, pouting. " And
as for the minister, she is veiy welcome to him, I am sure."

" N(msenso, Rose ! Let him rest. I am sure Deacon
Snow would think us very irreverent to speak about the
minister in that way. Tell mo what you are g<3ing to do to-
day?"

llosie had i)lenty to do, and by and by she became absorb-
ed in the elaborate pattern which she was working on a fi'ock
for woe Rosie, and was rather more remiss than before, as to
doing her part for the entertainment of their guest. She had
not done that from the beginning, but her quietness and pre-
occupation were more apparent, because the rain kept them
within doors. Graeme saw it, and tried to break tlu-ough it
or cover it as best she might. Mrs. Snow saw it, and some-
times looked gi'ave, and sometimes amused, but she made
no remarks about it. As for Mr. i\Iillar, if ho noticed
her silence and proocsupation, ho certainly did not resent
them, but gave to the lew words she now and then put in,
an eager attention that went far beyond their worth ; and
had she been a princess, and he but a humble vassal, ho
could not have addressed her with more respectful deference.

And so the days passed on, till one morning sometljing
was said by Mr. Millar, aljout its being time to draw his visit
to a close. It was only a word, and might have fallen to the
ground without remark, as he very possibly intended it sliould
do ; but Mr. Snow set himself to combat the idea of his
going away so soon, with an energy and determination that
brought them all into the discussion hi a litth; while,

" Unless there is sometliing particular taking you homo,
you may as well stay for a whilr longer. At anyrate, it ain't
worth while to go before Sunday. You ought to stay and
hear oiu* minister preach, now you 'vo got ac<iuainted with
him. Ought n't he, Graeme '? "

Graeme smiled.

558

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

;.it. I

"Oh! yes, ho ouf^ht to stay for so gootl a reason as that is."

" There are worse preachers than ]Mi'. Perry," said INIrs.
Snow, j^ravel}-.

" Oh ! come now, mother. That ain't saying much. Tlicrc
aui't a great many better preachers in our part of the work!,
wliatcver they may bo where you hve. To be sure, if you
leave to-night after tea, you can catch tho night cars for Bos-
ton, and stay there over Simday, and have your pick of somo
pretty smart men. But you 'd better stay. - Not but what I
could have you over to Rixford in time, as well as not, if it
is an object to you. But you better stay, had n't he, girls ?
What do you say. Rose ? "

" And hear Mr. Periy preach ? Oh ! certainly," said Rose,
gravely.

" Oh ! he will stay," said Graeme, laughing, with a litUo
vexation. " It is my behef he never meant to go, only he
likes to bo entreated. Now corifoss, Charlie."

CHAPTER XLIII. '

yTjl H, bairns ! is it no' a bonny day !" said Mrs. Snow,
1"^ breaking into Scotch, as she was rather apt to do
when she was speaking to the sisters, or when a Uttle moved.
" I aye mind the first look I got o* the hills ower yonder, and
the kirlc, and the gleam of the grJivestones, through the trees.
We all came round the water on a Saturday afternoon like
this ; and Norman and IlaiTy took tui'ns in carrying wee
Rosie, and wo sat down here and rested ourselves, and looked
ower yon bonnv water. Eh, bairns ! if I could have but had
a glimpse of all the j'ears that have been since then, of all
the * goodness and mercy ' that has passed before us, how
my thankless murmurs, and my imbolieving fears would have
been rebuked ! "

They were on thou* way up the hill to spend the afternoon
at 'Mv. Nasmyth's, and Mr. Millar was with them. Nothing
more had been said about his going away, and if he was not
quite content. to stay, "his looks belied hhn," as Miss Love-
joy remarked to herself, as she watched them all going up
the hill together. They were going very slowly, because of
Mrs. Snow's lingering weakness. One of the few of the
*' Scotch prejudices" that romamed with her after all these
years, was the prejudice in favor of her own two feet, as a
means of locomotion, when the distance was not too great ;
and rather to the discontent of Mr. Snow, she had insisted
on walking up to the other house, this afternoon.

" It is but a step, and it will do me no harm, but good, to
go with the bairns," said she, and she got her own way.

It was a " bonny day ;" mild, bright, and still. The autura-
(559)

nno

jANi-rrs i.ovE AND sniivrcE.

■■'J

Hill beauty of the forests had passed, l)ut the trees wore not
bare, yet, thoujjh October was nearly over ; and, now and
then, a brown leaf fdl noisol(>Hsly thron<,di the air, and the faint
rustle it made as it touched the many wliich had pjont; l)ef(U*o
it, seemed to deepen the (piiet of the time. They had stopped
to rest a little at the turn of the road, and were gazing over
the pond to the hills beyond, as Mrs. Snow spoke.

" Yes, I mind," said Graeme.

*' And I mind, too," said Rose, softly.

"It's a bonny place," said Mi*s. Snow, in a little, "and it
has changed but httlo in all tho.se years. The woods ^ave
gone back a little on some of the hills ; and the trees about
the village and the kirkyard have gi'own larger and closer,
and that is mostly all the changes."

" The old meeting-house has a th-eaiy look, now that it is
never used," said Rose, regi*etfulh'.

" Ay, it has that. I mhid thinking it a grand and stately
object, when I first saw it fix>m this side of the water. Tliat
was before I had been hi it, or very near it. But I learned
to love it for better tilings than statoliness, before veiy long.
I was ill pleased when they first siioko of pulluig it down,
but, as you say, it is a di-eaiy object, now that it is no longer
used, and the sooner it g(jes the better."

" Yes, a ruin to be an object of interest, should bo of grey
stone, with waUflDwei-s and ivy gi*o\\iug over it," said Gnieme.

" Yes, but this is not a country for niins, and such like
sorrowful things. The old kirk was good enough to woi*ship
in, to my thinking, for many a year to come ; and the new
one will aye lack something that the old one had, to you and
me, and many a one besides ; but the sooner the fursakeuold
place is taken quite away, the bettor, now."

" Yes, there is nothing venerable in broken sashes, and
flutteiing sliingles. But I wish they had repaired it for a
while, or at any rate, built the new one on the same site. Wo
shall never have any pleasant associations with the new red
brick aflfair that the Merk^ville people are so proud of."

And so they lingered and talked about mimy a thing bo-

JANKT8 LOVK AND SKIITIOR.

5C1

•cd

sides the misightly old moctinf^-Louso — things that liad lia;,>
peued in the old time, when the bairns were young, and the
world was to them a world in which each had a kingdom to
conquer, a crown to win. Those happy, haj^py days !

"Oh ! well," said Mrs. Snow, as they ro.se to go up the hill
again, " it's a bonny place, and I have learned to love it well.
But if any one had told mo in those days, that the time
would come, when this and no other place in the world would
seem like home to me, it would have been a foohslmess in
my eai's."

" Ah ! what a sad dreary mntcr that first one was to you,
Janet, though it was so merry to the boys and me," said
Graeme. " It would have comfoi'ted j'ou then, if you could
have knovNTi how it would be with you now, and with Sandy."

" I am not so sure of that, my dear. "We are untoward
creatures, at the best, and the brightness of to-day, would
not have looked like brightness then. No love, the changes
that seem so good and right to look back upon, would have
dismayed me, could I have seen them before me. It is well
that we must just live on from one day to another, content
with miat each one brings."

" Ah ! if we could always do that ! " said Graeme, sighing.

" My bairn, we can. Though I mind, even in those old
happy days, you had a soiTowful fashion of adding the mor-
row's burden to the burden of to-day. But that is past with
you now, surely, after all that you have seen o^ the Lord's
goodness, to you and yours. "WTiat would you wish changed
of all that has come and gone, since that first time when we
looked on the bonny hills and valleys of MerleviUe ? "

"Janet," said Graeme, speaking low, " death has come to
us since that day."

" Ay, my bau-ns ! the death of the righteous, and, sui'ely,
that is to be gi'ievcd for least of all. Think of them all
these years, among the hills of Heaven, with j'our mother
and the baby she got home with her. And think of the won-
derful things your father has seen, and of his Jia\ing speech

with David, and Paul, and with oiu' Lord hmiself "

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562

JANETS LOVE AND SEEVICE.

Janet's voice faltered, and Graeme clasped softly tho
withered hand that lay upon her arm, and neither of them
spoke again, till they answered Sandy and Emily's joyful
greeting at the door.

Rose lingered beliind, and walked up and dovra over the
fallen leaves beneath the elms. Graeme came down again,
there, and jNIr. Nasmyth came to speak to them, and so did
Emily, but they did not stay long ; and by and by Rose was
left alone with Mr. MiEar, for the very first time during his
visit. Not that she was really alone with him, for all the
rest were still in the porch enjoying the mild au*, and the
bright October sunshine. She could join them in a moment,
she thought, not that there was the least reason in the world
for her wisliing to do so, however. All this passed through
her mind, as she came over the fallen leaves toward the gate
on which Mr. Millar was leaning ; and then she saw that she
could not so easily join the rest, at least, without asking him
to let her pass. But, of course, there could be no occasion
fur that.

" How clearly we can see the shadows in the wateiy said
she, for the sake of saying something. " Look over yonder,
at the point where the cedar trees grow low. Do you see ? "

" Yes, I see," said he, but he was not looking the way of
the cedars. " Rose, do you know why I came here ? "

Rose gave a startled glance toward the porch where they
were all sitting so quietly.

"It was to brmg us news of Will.,, was n't it ? And to see
Merlevillc ? " said she.

Did she say it ? Or had she only thought of it ? She was
not sure, a minute after, for Mr. Millar went on as if he had
heard nothing.

" I came to ask you to be my wife."

Did this take her by surprise ? or had she been expecting
it all the time ? She did not know. She was not sure ; but
she stood before him with downcast eyes, without a word.

" You know I have loved you always — since the night that
Harry took me home with him. My fancy has never wan-

JANETS LOVE AND SERVICE.

563

dered from yon, all these years. Rose, you must know I love
you, dciirly. I have only that to plead. I know I am not
worthy of you, except for the love I bear you."

He had begun quietly, as one begins a work which needs
preparation, and strength, and courage, but his last words
came between pauses, broken and hiu'riedly, and he repeated,

"I know I am not worthy."

" Oh ! Charlie, don't say such fooUsh words to me." And
Rose gave him a single glimpse of her face. It was only a
glimpse, but his heart gave a great leap in his breast, and
the hand that lay on the gate which separated them trembled,
though Rose did not look up to see it.

"Rosie," he whispered, "come down to the brook and
show me Harry's waterfall."

Rose laughed, a little, uncertam laugh, that had the sound
of tears in it ; and when Charlie took her hand and put it
within his arm, she did not withdraw it, and they went over
the field together.

Graeme had been watching them from the porch, and as
they passed out of sight, she turned her eyes toward Mrs.
Snow, with a long breath.

" It has come at last, Janet," said she.

" I shouldna wonder,«dear. But it is no' a thing to grieve
over, if it has come."

" No. And I am not going to grieve. I am glad, even
though I have to seek my fortune, all alone. But I have "Will.,
yet," added she, in a little. " There is no word of a sti'anger
guest in his heart as yet. I am sure of Will., at least."

Mrs. Snow smiled and shook her head.

""Will's time will come, doubtless. You are not to build
a castle for yourself and Will., unless you make room for more
than just you two in it, dear."

Emily hstened, smiling.

" It would be as well to leave the building of Will.'s castle
to himself, " said she.

" Ah ! yes, I suppose so," said Graeme, with a sigh. " One
must build for one's soJf. But, Emily, dear, I built Rosie'a

504

JANETS LOVK AND SKRVICE.

castie. I have wished for just what is happening over yonder
among the pine trees, for a long, long time. I have been
afraid, now and then, of late, that my castle was to tumble
down about my ears, but Charhe has put his hand to the work,
now, in light good earnest, and I think my castle will stand."

" See here, Emily," said Mr Snow, coming m an hour or
two later, " if Mr. Millar thinks of catching the cars for Bos-
ton, this evening, you'll have to hiuTy up your tea."

" But he has no thought of doing any such foolish tiling,"
said Mrs. Snow. " Dear me, a body would think you were
in haste to get quit of the young man, with your hmry for
the tea, and the cars for Boston."

" Why no, mother, I ain't. He spoke about it this morn-
ing, himself, or I'm pretty sui*e I should n't. I'll be glad to
have him stay, and mora than glad."

" He is going to stay and hear the minister preach," said
Graeme. " You know you asked him, and I'm sure he wiU
enjoy it."

" He is a good preacher," said Mr. Snow, gi-avely.

" And he's a good practiser, which is far better," said his
wife. " But I doubt, deacon, you'R need to put him out of
your head now. Look down yonder, and tell me if you think
Rosie is hkely to bide in MeiieAolle.".

And the deacon, looldng, saw Mr. Millar and Rose coming
slowly up the path together, and a duller man than Mr. Snow
could hardly have failed to see how matters stood between
them ; Mr. Millar was looking down on the blushing face of
his companion with an air ahke happy and triumphant, and,
as for Rose, Mr. Snow had never seen her look at all as she
was looking at that moment.

" Well,"' said his wife, softly.

" Well, it is as pretty a sight as one need wish to see," said
Mr. Snow. He nodded his head a great many times, and
then, without a word, tinned his eyes on Graeme.

His wife smUed.

" No, I am afraid not. Every one must build his own
gastle, as I heard her saying — or was it Emily ? this \ery

JAXEt's love and SEIiVICE. 565

afternoon. But we needna trouble ourselves about what may
hinds ' ^''''' ""' ''^°''* ""^''^ '"^'■''^- ^^ ^' ^^^ "^ ^«°^
"And, Rosio dear, aU this might have happened at Nor-
man s last year, if only Charlie had been bolder, and Harrv
not so wise." "^

The sisters were in their own room together. A good deal
had been said before this time that need not be repeated.
Graeme had made her sister understand how glad she was
for her sake, and had spoken kind, sisterly words about
cnarhe, and how she would have chosen him for a brother
out of all the world, and more of the same kind ; and of
course, Hose was as happy, as happy could be. But when
Graeme said this, she tui-ned round with a very gi-ave face

"I don't know, Graeme. Perhaps it might ; but I am not
sure. I did not know my own mind then, and, on the whole
it is better as it is." '

" Hairy will be glad," said Graeme. Lidced, she had said
that before.
Rose laughed.

"Dear, wise Harry! He always said Charlie was puro
gold."

"And so he is," said Graeme,

"I know it, Graeme ; and he says he is not good enough
for me. " And Rose laid down her cheek upon her sister's lap
with a little sob. " All ! if he only knew, I am afi-aid—"

"Dear, it is the humility of true love, as you said about
Harry. You love one another, and you need not bo afraid."

They were silent for a long time after that, and then lloso
said, flushing a httle,

" And, Graeme, dear, Charlie says— but I promised not to
tell—"

^ "AVell, you must not, then," said Graeme, smiHng, with
just a little throb of j^ain at her heart, as it came homo'^to her
that no^v, Rose, and her hopes aiul fears, and httle secrets be-
longed more to another than to her.

"Not that it is a secret, Graeme," said her sister, eagerly.

5GG

JANKTS LOVE AND SERVICE.

" It is something' that Charlie has very much at heart, but I
am not so sure myself. But it is notlimg that can be spoken
about yet. Graeme. Charlie thinks there is nobody in the
world quite so good as you."

Graeme laughed.

"Excont you, Rosio."

"lam not good, Graeme, buc very foohsli and naughty,
often, as you know. But I will t/y and be good, now, indeed
I will."

" ]\[y darling," murnuired Graeme, "I am so glad for you
— so glad and tliankfiil. We ought to be good. God has
been very good to us ail."

Of coiu'se all this was not permitted to shorten the visit of
the sisters to their old fi'iend. Mr. ^Millar went away rather
reluctantly, alone, but the muter had quite set in before they
went home. Mrs. Snow was well by that time, as well as she
ever expected to bo in this world, and she bade them farewell
Avith a good hope that she might see them again.

"But, whether or not," said she, cheerfnlly, "I shall aye be
glad and thankfrJ for the quiet time we have had together.
There are few who can say of those they love, that they wish
nothing changed in their life or their lot ; but I do say that of
all your father's bairns. No' but that there may be some
crook in the lot of one or other of you, that I canna see, and
maybe some that I can see ; but when the face is set in the
right airt (direction) all winds waft onward, and that, I trust,
is true of you all. And, Rosie, my dear, it takes a steady
hand to carry a full cup, as I have told you, many a time ;
and mind, my bairn, ' Except the Lord build tlu^ house, they
labor in vain that build it,' and, ' the foundation of God
standeth sure' Mis3 Graema, my dear, * Tliey that wait on
the Lord shall renew their strength,' as you have learned yom*-
self long svne. God bless vou both, and farewell."

They had a very quiet and happy winter. They had to
make the acquaintance of their new sister, and a very pleasant
dutj* it proved. Harry had at one time indulged some msano
hopes of ha^'ing his little Amy safe in his own keeping before

jankt's love and service.

5CT

the snow camo, but it was soon made plain to him by ^Irs.
Roxbnry, that tliis was not for a single moment to be thought
of. Her daughter was \eiy young, and she must be per-
mitted at least one season to see something of soeiety before
her marriage. She was satisfied with the prospeet of having
the young merchant for a son-in-law ; he had established a re-
putation of the most desirable kind among the reliable men
of the city, and he was, besides, a r/'^ntlrman, and she had
other daughters gi'owing np. Si ill it was right that Amy
should have time and opportunity to bo quite siu'e of herself,
before the ii-revoeable step was taken. If IVIi's. Roxbmy
could have had her way about it, she should have had this
opportunity before her engagement had been made, or, at least,
before it had been openly acknowledged, but, as that could
not be, there must be no haste about the wedding.

And so the pretty Amy was hurried from one gay scene to
another, and was an acknowledged beauty and belle in both
civic and military circles, and seemed to enjoy it all very
well. As for Harry, he sometimes went with her, and some-
times stayed at home, and fretted and chafed at the state of
affau's in a way that even his sisters considered unreasonable,
though they by no means ajoproved of the trial to which
Amy's constancy was exposed- Bat they were not afraid for
her. Every visit she made them — and many quiet mornings
she passed with them — they became more assured of her sweet-
ness and goodness, and of her affection for their brother,
and so they thought HaiTy unreasonable in his impatience,
and told him so, sometimes.

" A little vexation and suspense will do Harry no harm,"
said Arthur. " Events were following one another quite too
smoothly in his experience. In he walks among us one day,
and announces his engagement to Miss Roxbury, as trium-
phantly as you please, without a word of warning, and now
he frets and fumes because lie cannot have his own way in
every particular. A little suspouso will do him good."

Which was very hard-hearted on Aithur's part, as his wifo
told him.

508

JANETS LOVE AND SEUVICK

I-

" And, besides, it is not suspense iliiit is troubling Harry,"
said Hose. *' lie knows quite well how it is to end. It is only
a momentary vexation. And I don't say, myself, it will do
Harry any harm to have his masculine self-complacency dis-
turbed a little, by just the bare possibility of disajipointment.
One values what it costs one some trouble to have and to
hold."

" Rose, you arc as bad as Arthur," said Fanny.

" Am I ? Oh ! I do not mean that Harrv does n't value
httle iVmy enough ; but he is unreasonable and foohsh, and
it looks as if ho were afi-aid to trust her among all those fine
people who admire her so much."

"It is you who are foolish, now, Rose," said her sister.
" Harry may be unreasonable, but it is not on tliat account ;
and Amy is a jewel too precious not to be guarded. No
wonder that he grudges so much of her time, and so many of
her thoughts to indifferent people. But it will soon be over
now."

" Who knows ? ' There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and
the lip,' you know," said Arthur. " Who knows but Harry
may be the victim among us ? Our matrimonial adventures
have been monotonously prosperous, hitherto. Witness
Rosie's success. It would make a little variety to have an in-
terruption."

But Han-y was not destined to be a victim. As the winter
wore over, Mrs. Roxbui'y relented, and " hstened to reason
on the subject," Hany said ; and by and by there begun to be
signs of more than usual occupation in the Roxbury mansion,
and preparations that were likely to throw Rosie's modest ef-
forts in the direction of housekeeping altogether in the shade.
But Rosie was not of an envious disposition, and enjoyed her
pretty tilings none the less, because of the magnificence of
Harry's bride. As for little Amv, she took the matter of the
trousseau very coolly. Mamma was quite equal to all that,
and took trouble enough, and enjoyment enough out of it
all for both, and she was sure that ail would be done in a
right and proper manner, without anxiety or over-exeiiion

, I

JANET ri LOVE AND SERVICE.

509

on Vcv part, find there was never a happier or more light
henrted Uttlo bride tliau sh(\

At fu'st it was proposed that the two weddinj^s shoiihl take
place on the same day, but, afterwards, it was decided other-
wise. It wonld be uiconvenieut fur business reasons, should
both the paitners bo away at tlu; same time, and in those cu'cum-
stances the wedding tiip would l^e shortened. And besides, the
magnificence of the Roxbuiy plans, would involve more ti-oublo
as to prejoarations, than would be agi'ceable or convenient ;
and Rose proposed to go quietly from her ov.n home to the
home Charlie was maldng ready for her ; and it was decided
that Harry's maninge should take pLice in the latter part of
April, and the other early in the summer.

But before Apiil, bad news came from "Will. They heard
from himself first, that he had not been sometimes as well as
usual, an/I then a letter came fi-om Air. Ruthvcn to Ciraemo,
telUng her that her brother was ill with fever, quite unable
to write himself ; and though he did not say in so many
words, that there was danger for him, this was only too .
easily inferred from his maimer of writing.

The next letter, and the next, brought no better ne^vs. It
was a time of great anxiety. To Graeme it was worst of all.
As the days went on, and nothing more hoi^efiil came from
him, she blamed herself that she had not at once gone to liim
when the tidings of his iUuess fii'st reached them. It was
terrible to think of him, dyuig alone so fai* from them all ;
and she said to herself " she might, at least, have been with
Imn at the last."

He would have been at home by this time, if ho had been
well, and this made their grief and anxiety all the harder to
bear. If she could have done anything for him, or if she could
have known from day to day how it was with him, even
though she could not see him, or care for him, it would not
have been so di'cadful, (Iraeme thought. Her heart failed her,
and though she tried to interest herself still in the prepara-
tions and arrangements that had before given her so much
pleasure, it was all that she could do, to go (piietly ajid

570

JANKTS L(»Vi: AND SERVICi:.

calnily about her duties, Jiu'lng some of these very anxious
(lays.

She dill not Imow how utterly despondent she was becom-
ing, or how gi'eatly in danger she was of forgetting for the
time the lessons of hope and trust which her experience in
life had taught he?' till there came from Mrs. Snow one of her
rare, brief letters, wiitten by her own hand, Avhich only times
of gi'eat trial had ever called foiih from her.

" jNIy bairn," she said, " are you not among those whom
nothing can harm? Ahiiohitdy nolhimj ! WTiether it bo life
or death that is before your brother, you have sm'ely nothing
to fear for him, and nothing for yourself. I think he will bo
spared to do God's work for a while yet. But dear, after all
that has come and gone, neither you nor I would like to take
it upon ourselves to say what would be wise and kind on our
Fatlier's part ; and whtit is wise and kind will surely come to
pass."

Their suspense did not last very long after this. IMi*. Ruth-
ven's weekly letters became more hopeful after the third one,
and soon Will, wrote himself, a few feeble, irregular lines, tell-
ing how his fiiend had watched over him, and cared for him
like a brother, dming all those weeks in his dreary, city lodg-
ing ; and how, at the first possible moment, he had taken him
home to his own house, where Mrs. Millar, his mother, was
caring for him now ; and where he was slowly, but sm'ely,
coming back to life and health again. There was no hope
of his being able to be home to Harry's marriage, but unless
something should happen to pull him sadly back again, ho
hoped to see the last of Rosie Elliott, and the fii'st of his new
brother Charlie.

There were a few words meant for Graeme alone, over
which she shed happj', thankful tears, and wrote tlieiu down
for the reading of their old friend, " Brought face to face with
death, one learns the true meaning and value of hfe. I am
glad to come back agam, for yom- sake Graeme, and for the
bake of the work that I trust I may be permitted to do."

After this they looked forward to the wedding with lightened

.lANET S LOVE AND SEUVICK.

571

anxious

hearts. It way, a very {^'and anil successful affair, aUoj^'cther.
Amy and her bridcs-niakls were worthy of all the adinmition
which they excited, and that is sayin<^ a great deal. There
were many invited guests, and somehow, it had got about
that this was to be a more than usually pretty wedding, and
St. Andi'cw's was crowded with lookers-on, who had only the
right of kind and admiring sj'mpathy to plead for being there.
The brealcfast was all that it ought to be, of course, and the
bride's travelHng-drcss was pronounced by all to be as great
a marvel of taste and skill, as the bridal robe itself.

Harry behaved very well through it all, as Ai-thur amused
them not a httle by gi'avel}' asserting. But HaiTy was, as an
object of interest, a very secondary person on the occasion, as
it is the usual fate of bridegrooms to bo. As for the bride, she
was as sweet and gentle, and unaffected, amid the guests, and
grandeur, and glittering wedding gifts, as she had always
been in the eyes of her new sisters, and when Graeme kissed
her for good bye, she said to herself, that this dear httle sis-
ter had come to them without a single drawback, and she
thanked God in her heart, for the happiness of her brother
Harry. Yes, and for the happiness of her brother Arthur,
too, she added in her heart, and she greatly suqirised Famiy
by putting her arms round her and kissing her softly many
times. They were in one of the bay windows of the great
drawing-room, a little withdrawn from the company geaerally,
so that they were unobserved by all but Arthur.

" Graeme's heart is overflowuig with peace and good will
to all on this auspicious occasion," said he, laughing, but ho
•was greatly pleased.

After this they had a few happy weeks. Eosie's preparations
were by this time, too far advanced to give any cause for anxi-
ety or care, and they all enjoyed the quiet. Letters came weeldy
from "Will., or his friend, sometimes from both, which set them
quite at rest about the invalid. They were no longer mere
reports of his health, but long, merry, rambling letters, filled
with accounts of their daily life, bits of gossip, conversation,
even jokes at one another's expense, generally given by Will,

r.72

JANKTH T.OVK AM) SKUVIcn.

but sometimes, also, by tlic p^r.ivc and (li'jtiiitkul ^Ir. Riithvon,
Avhorii, till liiti'ly, (ill but Cluirlic had como to consiilii' iiluiost
a stran<^'or. Still the end of May was come, and nothing was
said aa to the day when they expected to «L't sail.

But before that time, ^reat news had coiae from another
quarter. Norman and his family were comin^i^ East. A
succession of childish illnesses had visited his little ones, and
had left both mother and children iu need of more bracing
air than their homo could boast of in the summer time, and
th("y were all coming to take uj) their abode for a month or
two, on the (iulf, up which hoalth-bearuig breezes from the
ocean uovor cease to blow. Graomo was to go with them.
As many more as could be persuaded were to go, too, but
Graeme certainly ; and then she was to go home with them,
to the West, when their sumnier hoUda}' should Ijg over.

This was Norman's view of the matter. Graeme's plans
were not sufficiently aiTanged as yet for her to say either yes
or no, with regard to 'it. Li the meantime, there were many
preparations to bo made for their coming, and Grucmo wrote
to hasten these oa'rangements, so that they might bo in time
for the wedduig.

" And if only Will, comes, we shall all be together again
once more," said she, with a long breath.

"To say nothing of Norman's boys, and his wonderful
daughter, and Fanny's young gentleman, who will compare
with any of them now, I think, " said Rose.

" We will have a house full and a merry wedding," said
Arthur. "Though it won't b> as grand as the other one,
Eosie, I'm afi'aid. If wo only could have Mrs. Snow here,
Graeme ?"

Graeme shook her head.

" I am afi^-aid that can hardly be in the present state of her
health. Not that she is ill, but ]Mr. Snow thinks the jour-
ney would be too much for her. I am afi'aid it is not to be
thought of?"

" Never mind — Charlie and Rosie can go round that way
and get her blessing. That will be the next best thing to

;iij '

JAXin S LOVK AND KKUVK K.

573

haniiff her hfi'o. And bv the time -von nro roiidv for the iiltar,
Graeme, Janet Avill coino, yon may bo sure of that."

Juno had como, Avarm and boantifiil. Harry and his In-ido
had returned, and the important Init exhaustin;:!; corenKmy of
receiving bridal vif^its was nearly over. Graeme, at Ic ast, had
found them rather exhausting, uhcn she had taken her tnni
of sitting 'with the bride ; and so, on one occasion, leaving
Rose and some other gay young people to pass the evening
at Harrv'a house, she set out on her way home, with the fe(>l-
ing of relief that all was over in which she was expected to
assist, uppermost in her mind. It would all have to be gono
over again in Kosie's case, she laiew, I'l^t she put that out of
her mind for the present, and turned It thoughts to tlio
pleasant things that were sure to happen before that time —
Norman's coming, and AVill.'s. '^I'l oy might ci/iac any day
now. She had indulgeil in a little impatiiiit miu'muring that
V> ill's last letter had not named the day a-nd the steamer by
which he was to sail, but it could nnt be long now at the
longest, and her heart gave a sudden tluob as she thought
that possibly ho might not write as to the day, but might
mean to take them by surprise. She quickened her footsteps
unconsciously as the thought came into her mind ; he uiight
have arrived already. But in a miimte she hiughed at her
foolishness and impatience, and then she sighed.

" There will be no more letters after "Will, fcomes homo, at
least there will be none for me," she said to herself, but added,
impatiently, "What would I have? Sui'ely that will l)o a
small matter when I have him safe and well at home again."

But she was a httle startled at the pain which the thought
had given iier ; and then she denied to herself that the j^ain
had b^en there. She laughed at the idea, and was a little
scornful over it, and then she took herself to task for the
scorn as she had done for the pain. And then, frightened at
herself and her discomfort, she turned her thoughts, with an
effort, to a pleasanter theme — the coming of Norman and
Hilda and their boys.

" I hope they will be in tune. It would be quite too bad

:.l(:' 1

■■■ s

;

HI^hIv' V

ii^^Brw'

lflHKf#B

■ t

mkm

ilH^t

674

JANET S LOVE AND 8EKVICE.

if they were to lose the wedding by only a day or two. And
yet we conld hardly blame Charlie were he to refuse to wait
after V. ill. comes. Oh, if he were only safe here ! I should
like a few quiet days with Will, before the house is full. My
boy ! — who is really more mine than any of the others — all
that I have for my very own, now that Rosie is going from
me. How happy we shall be when all the bustle and confu-
sion are over ! And as to my going home with Norman and
Hilda — that must be decided later, as Will, shall make his
plans. ]My boy ! — how can I ever wait for his coming ?"

It was growing dark as she di*ew near the house. Although
the lights were not yet in the di"awing-room, she knew by the
sound of voices coming through the open window that Arthur
and Fanny were not alone.

" I hope I am not cross to-night, but I really don't feel as
though I could make myself agreeable to visitors for another
hour or two. I wish Sarah may let me quietly in, and I will
go up-stau's at once. I wonder who they are !"

Sarah's face was illuminated.

"You have come at last, Miss Elliott," said she.

" Yes ; was I expected sooner ? Who is here ? Is it you,
Charlie '? You are expected elsewhere."

It was not Charlie, however. A voice not unlike his spoke
in answer, and said,

" Graeme, I have brought your brother home to you ;" and
her hand was clasped in that of Allan Ruthven.

>. And

to waii;
; should
U. My
crs — all
ug from
d conf 11-
aan and
lake his

Jlhough
,v by tho
t Arthur

't feel as

another

lid I will

'.B it you.

spoke

and

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE pleasant autumn days had come round again, and
IVIr. and jNIi-s. Snow were sitting, as tlio}' often sat, now,
alone in the south room together. INIr. Snow was hale and
strong still, but he was growing old, and needed to rest, and
partly because the affairs of the farm were safe in tho hands
of his " son," as he never failed to designate Sandy, and
partly because those afiah'S were less to him than they used
to be, he was able to enjoy the rest he took.

For that was happenuig to him which does not always
happen, even to good people, as they grow old, his liold was
loosening from the things which for more than half a, lifetime
he had sought so eagerly and held so firmly. With his cjos
fixed on " the things which are before," other things were
falling behind and out of sight, and fi'om the leisure thus fall-
ing to him in these days, came the quiet hours m the south
room so pleasant to them both.

But the deacon's face did not wear its usual placid look on
this particular moniing ; and the doubt and anxiety showed
0,11 tho more plainly, contrasting as they chd with the bright-
ness on the face of his wife. She was moved, too, but with
no painful feeling, her husband could see, as he watched her,
though there were tears in the eyes that rested on the scene
witliout. But she was seeing other things, ho knew, and not
son'owful things either, he said to himself, with a little sur-
prise, as he fingered uneasily an open letter that lay on the
table beside liim.

"It ain't hard to see how all that will end," said he, in a
little.

"But," said his wife, turning toward him with a smile, "you
Bay it as if it wore an ending not to be desired."

(575)

■■■liHil

h <.i

576

JANKT 8 LOVE AND SKRVICE.

" All, well I — in a frcncral way, I suppose it is, or most folks
would say so. "What do you think ?"

"If tJin/ are pleased, we nccdna be otherwise."

" Well ! — no — but ain't it a little sudden ? It don't seem
but tlic other day since Mr. Ruthven crossed the ocean!"

" But that wasna the first time ho crossed the ocean. The
first time, they crossed it together. AUan Ruthven is an old
friend, and Miss Graeme is no' the one to give her faith lightly
to any man."

" Well ! no, she ain't. But, somehow, I had come to think
that she never would change her state ; and — "

" It 's no' vciy long, then," said his wife, laughing. " You'll
mind that it 's no' long smce you thought the minister likely
to persuade her to it."

" And docs it please you that Mr. Ruthven has had better
hick?"

" The minister never could have persuaded her. He never
tiicd very much, I think. And if Allan Ruthven has per-
suaded her, it is because she cares for him as she never cared
for .any other man. And from all that ^^'^iU. says, we may
believe that he is a good man, and true, and I am glad for
her sake, glad and thankful. God bless her."

" Why, yes, if she must many," said Mr. Snow, discon-
tentedly ;" but somehow it don't seem as though she could
fit in anywhere better than just the spot she is in now. I
know it don't sound well to talk about old maids, because of
the foolish notions folks have got to have ; but Graeme did
seem one that would ' adorn the doctrine ' as an old maid,
and redeem the name."

" That has been done by many a one already, in your sight
and mine ; and Miss Graeme will ' adorn the doctrine ' any-
Avhcre. She has aye had a useful life, and this while she has
had a happy one. But oh, man !" added jMi's. Snow, growing
earnest and Scotch, as old memories came over her with a
sudden nrsh, " when I mind the life her father and her mother
lived tog(;tlu'r — a life of very nearly perfect blessedness — I
canna but be glad that Miss Graeme is to have a chance of

.•if

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

677

3st folks

ii't seem
an!"
m. The
is an old
;li liglitly

to think

" You'll
ter likely

ad better

He never
has i^er-

ver cared
we may
glad for

, discon-
3he could
now. I
icause of
iacme did
Wd maid,

lorn* sight
pic ' any-
she has
I growing
tir Vvith a
mother
tliiess — ^I
Lance of

the higher happiness that comes with a home of one's own,
where true love bides and rules. I aye mind her father and
her mother. They had their troubles. They were whiles
poor enough, and whiles had thraward folk to deal with ; but
trouble never seemed to trouble them when they bore it to-
gether. And God's blessing was upon them through all. But
I have told you all this many a time before, only it seems to
come fresh and new to me to-day, thinking, as I am, of Miss
Graeme."

Yes, Mr. Snow had heard it all many a time, and doubtless
would hear it many a time again, but he only smiled, and
said,

" And Graeme is like her mother ?"

" Yes, she 's like her, and she 's not like her. She is qui-
eter and no' so cheery, and she is no' near so bonny as her
mother was. Rose is more hke her mother in looks, but she
doesna 'mind me of her mother in her ways as her sister does,
because, I suppose, of the difference that the age and the
country make on all that are brought up in them. There is
something wanting in all the young people of the present day,
that well brought up baims used to have in mine. Miss
Graeme has it, and her sister hasna. You'll ken what I
mean by the diflference between them."

Mr. Snow could not. The difference that he saw between
the sisters was sufficiently accounted for to him by the ton
year's difference in their ages. He never coiild be persuaded,
that, in any undesirable sense, Rose was more URe the modem
young lady than her sister. Graeme was perfect, in his
wife's eyes, and Rose was not quite perfect. That was alL
However, he did not wish to discuss the question just now.

" Well I Graeme is about as good as we can hope to see
in this world, and if he 's good enough for her that is a great
deal to say, even if ho is not >vhat her father was."

" There are few like him. But Allan is a good man. Will.
Bays, and he is not one to be content with a false standard of
goodness, or a low one. Ho was a manly, pleasant lad, in
the days when I kenned him. I daresay his long warstle
25

578

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

m '

?i !

with the world didna leave him altogether scatheless ; but
he 's out of the world's grip now, I believe. God bless my
bairn, and the man of her choice."

There was a moment's silence. IVIrs. Snow tui'ued to the
window, and her husband sat watching her, his brow a little
clearer, but not quite clear yet.

" She is pleased. She ain't making believe a mite. She 's
Hke most women folks in that" said Mr. Snow, emphasizing
to himself the word, as though, in a good many things, she
c'iflfered from "women folk" in general. "They really do
think in their heai'ts, though they don'i always say so, that it
is the right thing for girls to get married, and she *s glad
Graeme's going to do so well. But, when she comes to
think of it, and how few chances there are of her ever seeing
much of her again, I am afraid she 'U worry about it — though
she sartain don't look hke it now."

Certainly she did not The grave face looked more than
peaceful, it looked bright. The news which both Rose and
Will, had intunated, rather than announced, had stirred only
pleasant thoughts as yet, that was. clear. Mr. Snow put on
his spectacles and looked at the letters again, then putting
them down, said, gravely,

" She 'U have her home a great way off from here. And
maybe it 's foolish, but it does seem to me as though it was
a kind of a come down to go back to the old country to hve
after all these years."

Mi-s. Snow laughed heai'tily.

" But then, it is no' to be supposed that she will think so,
or he either, you ken."

" No, it ain't. If they did, they 'd stay here, I suppose."

" Well, it 's no' beyond the bounds of possibiUty but they
may bide here or come back again. But, whether they bide
here or bide there, God bless them both," said Mrs. Snow,
with moistening eyes.

"God bless them both!" echoed hei* husband. "And,
which ever way it is, you ain 't going to worry the least mite
about it. Be you ? "

JANET'S LOVE AND SERVICE.

679

}8 ; but
ess my

to the
a little

She's
iiasizing
Qgs, she
eally do
), that it
j's glad
omes to
jr seeing
-though

ore than

lose and

pred only

put on

putting

e. And
h it was
y to Uve

liiuk so,

pose."
fat they
jrbide
L Snow,

"And,
ist mite

The question was asked after a pause of several seconds,
and Mr. Snow looked so wistfully and entreatingly into his
■wife's face, that she could not help laughing, though there
were tears in her eyes.

" No, I am no thinking of worrying, as you call it. It is
borne in upon me that this change is to be for the real happi-
ness of my bairn, and it would be pitiful in me to grudge
her a day of ii And, to teU you the truth, I have seen it
coming, and have been preparing myself for it this while
back, and so I have taken it more reasonably than you have
done yourself, which is a thing that wasna to be expected, I
must confess."

" Seen it coming ! Preparing for it ! " repeated Mr.
Snow ; but he inquired no farther, only looked meditatively
out of the window, and nodded his head a great many times.
By and by lie said, heartily,

" Well, if you are pleased, I am. God bless them."

" God bless all the bairns," said his wife, softly. " Oh, man !
when I think of all that has come and gone, I am ready to
say that ' the Lord has given me the desire of my heart.' I
sought His guidance about coming with them. I had
a sore swither ere I could think of leaving my mother
and Sandy for their sakes, but He guided me and strengthened
me, though wlules I used to doubt afterwards, with my sore
heart wearying for my own land, and my own kin."

Mr. Snow nodded gravely, but did not speak, and in a
little she went on again :

" I sought guidance, too, when I left them, and now, looking
back, I think I see that I got it ; but, for a while, when
death came, and they went from me, it seemed as though
the Lord had removed the desire of my eyes with a stroke,
because of my self-seeking and unfaithfulness. Oh, man !
j'on was a rough bit of road for my stumbling, weary feet.
But He didna let me fall altogether — praise be to His
name I "

Her voice shook, and there was a moment's silence, and
then she added.

I I

580

JANET S LOVE AND SERVICE.

"But, as for grieving, because Miss Graeme is going
farther away, than is perhaps pleasant to think about, when
she is going of her own fi'ee will, and with a good hope of a
measure of happiness, that would be unreasonable indeed."

" Now, if she were to hold up her hands, and say, ' Now,
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,' it would seem about
the right thing to do," said ]VIr. Snow, to himself, with a
sigh. " When it comes to giving the bairns up, willing never
to see them again, it looks a httle as if she was done with
most things, and ready to go — and I ain't no ways ready to
have her, I 'm afraid."

The next words gave him a little start of smprise and
reUef.

" And we Tl need to bethink om'selves, what bonny thing
we can give her, to keep her in mind of us when she wiU be
far away."

"Sartain ! " said Mr. Snow, eagerly.

"Not that I think she'll be Ukely to forget us," added
his wife, "snth a catch in her breath. " She 's no of that
nature. I shouldna wonder if she might have some home-
sick thoughts, then, even in the midst of her happiness, for
she has a tender heart. But, if they love one another,
there is little doubt but it will be well with them, seeing
they have the fear of God before their eyes. And, she
may come back and end her days on this side of the sea,
yet, who knows ? "

" I should n't wonder a mite," said Mr. Snow.

"But, whether or not, if she be well, and happy, and
good, that is the main thing. And whiles I think it suits
my weakness and my old age better to sit here and hear
about the baii'ns, and think about them, and speak to you
about them and all that concerns them, than it would to
be among them with their youth and strength, and their
new interests in life. And then, they dinna need me, and
you do," added Mrs. Snow, with a smile.

" That 's so," said he, with an emphasis that made her
laugh.

JAnet'8 love and service. 581

have traveUed, somotimes tosether ^mJZ^ .f °
al'fZl . "^ "°°'' *"•' '"»■ ''ood the Angel of

S Jr, T u ^°™^ "•"* ^-^ ^'^^ »« tnn>ed in the
ooubt but that He w gmdmg them stUl, and us as weU and

She paused a moment, because of a Kttle bmk and quiver
m her voico, and tien she added, '

for'theL™?' p"*^ '?"' ^'"° '"'' "-^ •J*™" of -"y heart '
lor the bauTOi. R-aise be to His name."