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L'exemplaire film* fut reproduit grdce d la g6n6rosit6 de I'^tablissement prSteur suivant : Bibliothdque nationale du Canada Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour Stre reproduites en un seul olich6 sont film6es d partir de I'angia supdrieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 WALDO. WALDO. BY N. D. BAGWELL, Atithor of "Breakers Broken." TORONTO: VV^ILLIAM BRIOQs, WESLEY BUILDINGS. C. W. COATES, Montreal, Que. S. F. HUESTIS. Halifax, N.S. hta ceu according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in th<. year one thou.anci eisht hundred and „i..et>. by William Br.ggs, Book Steward of the Methodist Book and Publishing House, Toronto, at the Department of Ajjnculturo. TO REV. J. WESLEY JOHNSTON, IN REMEMBRANCE OF HIS PASTORAL KINDNESS THESE PAGES ARE GRATEFULLY DEDICATED. I ; WALDO. H CHAPTER I. E has never even seen a Bible ! " said Mr. York, raising himself up in his bed and pointing triumphaTitly toward a little boy in a corner of the room, engrossed in a fairy tale. " If you should speak to him of one, he would not know what you were talking about." The minister addressed remained silent. The boy read on. " I have tw^o brothers," continued the sick man, " one an infidel, and one a preacher ; I am dying — dying ! I am going to send Waldo to my infidel brother to show that I think he is right, however others may differ with him and his doctrines. I can show my approbation of him in no other way. I have very little money, and no friends, but I have a son ! " 10 WAI.DO. 1 'I'he l)oy tunuMl u leaf, unheo(Iin<;- wliat passed. " My hoy," continued Mr. York, "is named after his uncle, to whom I shall send him. He will enlighten him — place him in the attnosphere of free thought. Waldo and little Fan shall go together ; old Maria, their nurse, is to carry them after I am gone. They don't know anything about it, except that they are going to an uncle whom they have not yet seen, while I go on a little trip. Ha ! No, sir ; if you please ; I don't want to hear any expostulations. As for me, let me go out quietly ; I'll have none of your noisy friends about me, no epitaphs written over me, no sermon, no foolish emblematic flowers placed over a heart that has already beat too long in its misery. Let no or ^ mourn for me ; let the children be told I have been called away by a friend — ha ! a friend ! " The good minister looked over at the boy, absorbed in his book of fairy tales. What manliness there was already in the young, compactly built frame ! What hope there was in the flashing smile ! What eagerness and brightness in the attractive boyish face ! How like a pall would the teaching of the infidel uncle fall over that young spirit, and hide all the bright and beautiful, all the real, for as a dream when one awaketh shall the present and mutable appear in the light of the future. The minister, Mr. Cooke, had WAi.no. 11 lont^ known the sick man, and, like a Faitlit'ul watch- man, had warned him ot* the terrible gulf into which his error would plunge him at last. He had portrayed the glory of heaven, but he was only laughed at. Of course it was all a delusion ! What simpleton would not shun perdition, and go to heaven if the Bible were true ? It was the old story. To Mr. York no facts were sacred He rejected the scheme of salvation principally because he did not understand how God had conducted the plan of ci'eation. While they were talking. Fan, Waldo's sister, sat at the boy's feet deeply interested in her doll. But it was upon the boy that the minister's gaze dwelt. He watched him as he read on. " His is not a nature that can be content without love," he said to the father, " don't send him where he can't get it." Then he added under his breath, "Poor litMo fellow ! " He was startled by a voice rising with passion. " Maria ! did you hurt Fan ? " cried the boy, turning a frowning face on the woman. " No !" said Maria, "I jest sorter walked over her a little — her so small and still, and r\e a studyin'." Well, you've hurt her ! " said Waldo, as his sister held up one little finger, with tears in her eyes. " What makes you study so much ? " 12 WALDO. "Fan air wonderful small a-settin' down," remarked the wily Maria, pleasantly, for in truth she had been list- ening to the gentlemen. " Yet she's as peart as a robin redbreast when you notice her, an' pritty as a picture!" Waldo softened at this, and returned to his reading. " I should think," said Maria, " she'd bother you a foUerin' you about, an' a settin' in front of you so constant, an' a-twitterin' to herself so regular, an' a-cryin' the land over if you leave her ! It's always, 'Stan' back thar. Fan I' for fear she'll be killed, a patter- in' after you. Your father says she ain't to go scourin' the woods no more with you ; he looks to see her a-drownded or shot some day. You may go on a-read- in', but you hear, den! Thar ain't a boy in New Orleans ez rare an' proud o' his sister ez you!"* No one could see the two children together without noticing their marked affection for each other. Waldo would run at Fan's beck and call, for flowers, fruits, grasses or stray kittens. He would drag her across brambly fields, over shallow brooks, sometimes very hurriedly, but with the greatest tenderness, and with the sole desire that she might share his boyish joys. And Fan understood him very well. She knew, though so young, what it was that beamed in his eyes for her ! And if he happened to hurt her, his atoning kiss was a sufficient panacea. : I •I 1 M WALDO. 13 " He ain't pritty like Fan," soliloquized Maria, " but he is powerful smart. A reg'lar little man. His forrid is as smooth as a marble slab, an' his lips has a way o' settin' 'emselves together like a growed up person's." " My brother Waldo," said Mr. York, to the minister, " is a stimulating and successful writer. His arguments are convincing. He will teach my children no cant. He may be an infidel, but he is an honest one." The minister looked down at the speaker, and pitied, the joyless, cynical nature which gave an almost forbidding look to the regular features. " Well, you've done your best for me," said the sick man, " I exonerate you from all blame ; my blood be upon my own skirts. . . . And I am already too deep in the tide to discuss any more. I feel the touch of the phantom breakers. Strange, that soon I shall see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing ! I am like my brother Waldo, who says his soul is not worth saving anyhow — if he has got one — about which fact he admits that other people are much better informed than himself." The speaker's voice was stopped by a hemorrhage brought on by intense excitement, as he thought of his approaching dissolution, though he attempted to be cool, ahd even sneering. 14 WALDO, "Sir," he began again, presently, "justice is not postponed. A perfect equity adjusts its balance in all parts of life. You believe I have an immortal soul, and fear that I am going to hell ? It is a part of your creed; 1 know you do ! " The strong hand was laid upon the weak one. " I tell you it is all a monstrous fable — a dream ! and I will not be humbugged." The preacher tried to speak further, but was not heard ; and, burdened with grief, he left, determined to call the next day, when he should find Mr. York calmer. Old Maria, bustling about from room to room, over- heard the conversation. She was a privileged character in the household. Since the death of the children's mother, she had taken the poor lady's place as far as possible. She had lived many years with the three brothers, and one sister, who had died. Mr. David York, Waldo's father, was the youngest. They had all settled in New Orleans. Then there had been changes and separations, but the old nurse had remained with these children. Mr. York knew that she loved them, and he trusted her entirely. "Dell lor ! " exclaimed Maria, " s'posen thar is a hell after all, and Waldo happened to go to it, reliable an' steady just like a man though he is I An' Mr. York WALDO. 15 hisself don't seem none too shore, only he won't own it. He's mis'rable enough, if that's what he gets* by bein' a infidel." An unhappy, misanthropic man, Mr. David York had lived apart from his relatives and as exclusively as possible in every way ; but he felt confident that either of his brothers w^ould be willing to take care of his orphans. He wished to die as he had lived, and be did not write to them to come and take a final leave of him. He shrank from such an interview. It would harrow up his feelings and shake his stubborn calm. The physician had told him that his days were numbered, and stolidly he had determined to face the fact — the inevitable which had been boldly faced before by weaker minds than his, he thought. He could die without having any of the delights of heaven pictured to him. " Leave that," he said, " to women and preachers. It is a part of their existence. They smile and brighten at the thought of heaven without a reason." His smiles, when he could raise any, were reserved for those who claimed to ar^jue such thinnfs out of existence. The good minister called again next day, and he saw that Mr. York's hours were numbered. Acjain the sick man's good angel pleade(J with him, but in vain, and be was left I li , 1 t > h> 16 WALDO. " Lord of himself, that heritage of woe — That fearful empire which the human breast But holds to rob the heart within of rest. " " Is 00 naughty, papa ? " asked little Fan, stealing up to the bedside, and gazing at the angry tears the sick man thought were unobserved. " Naughty ? " He set his teeth hard. He looked at the innocent face ; and, perhaps, in that moment he thought that a pure heart was worth all the wisdom in the world. " Naughty ? Sinful ? Ay. Oh, my wrecked life ! Pshaw ! I am weak. This puerile mood will pass — " " Maria won't shut oo up in a dark place ! " cried Fan, jubilantly, '-ying her staring, fine doll on the pillow." not if 00 w naughty ! " ' Shut me up in a dark place ! " He shuddered, then gently brushed the scattered ringlets of the child back from her face, and kissed her. The children did not know that their father was critically ill. He was often sick, and in the habit of lying down. He had spoken of travelling for his health. Clinging now to that slight spar, little Fan's fairy form, he fell asleep. CHAPTER II. WALDO," said Maria, cnterincj the room in which the children were sitting, some hours later, " you stay in here and take care of Fan. I mus' leave you fur a while, so, to keep you safe from harm, I'll jcs' lock the door—" " Don't lock the door !— " Waldo called after Maria with the keen despair of childhood, but she quickly locked him and his sister in, and disappeared. Fortunately their dog and cat and some books were locked in with them, and there was some cake upon the table. The cat jumped up on the window-sill with her usual agile self-possession, and regarded the pleasant landscape with a lenient eye. The dog, \7atch, went and looked up into Waldo's face, one yellow ear lapping gracefully near a watch- ful eye, the other raised alertly. 2 18 WALDO. ! I Waldo's " Hello, there !" at the keyhole, brought no response. " Oh, Fan ! " cried the boy, " Maria soys papa has a friend who has called him away on important business, and we are to stay at our uncle's for awhile. Oh, if my uncle will only let me have a gun, and let me be free to go where I please ! I'll be so gay you won't know me ! You shall have a handsome collar for the first bird you stand, Watch ! Come, let's dance ! No, we'll form a regiment. Bring up the rear, Fan ! " Fan and Watch brought up the rear with so much gusto that there was remonstrance without. A knock was heard at the door. " Waldo! — keep quiet !" said Maria, in a husky voice. " Why ? " demanded Waldo. " Is father with his friend ? " There was a long pause, then a faint " Yes ! " " Then why can't we see his friend, too ? " " He — said you were not to." " Oh, well ! We will keep quiet if he wants us to." But Waldo was a wild little fellow, a fiery little bolt of life, and he could not help being restless. " What if Maria should forget that she had locked them up ? What if he and Fan should get no supper ? " Such were the questions which tormented him, as he kicked forgetfully against the sides of the house, ( I WALDO. 10 unconscious that the sound of thoso vigorous little feet sent a stab to his fntlier's failing heart. Onlinarily, Maria's words would liave made no dif- ference with Waldo, for he had a way of doing as he pleased, but a sense of mystery possessed him now. He sat thinking about his father's friend. The word, the mystery held some spell that touched his imacfination. It suf^^e^ested to his mind kindness and protection, another home somewhere, perhaps with children, and with deep, enchanted waters, where his father would get well, and about which he would have much to tell when he came back. He crossed the roon), and placed himself companionably beside Fan and kitty. Keeping still meant physical effort to him. All was still without. Presently he grew so uneasy at the silence that he Cvmld not bear it. " Whoop, there ! " he called. " Ma-r-i-a-a ! " " Thought you was goin' to keep quiet ! " remon- strated Maria, at the key-hole. " Only let us bid papa good-bye ! " said Waldo. " He — he can't stop — now ! " " Is his friend in a hurry ? " There was no answer. " When will he be back ? — Opeh he door ! I will bid him good-bye ! — Well ! I say, when will he be back ? " 20 WALDO. I I. ■III i I i > 1 " I don't know — exac'ly — " " rTOO I I I' I I' I I t li''! I i! ;,:!i' , 1 I 48 WALDO. How he longed to tell her about the Resurrection ! He wrote several letters, telling her she need not be afraid to die, for she would rise again, just as the beautiful flowers returned in spring. But she never read the letters. No word nor line passed between them. So the old nurse had said, " Waldo was with the good man, but Fan must make out with the bad one." A change had come over the boy so great as to escape no observant eye. His uncle marked it, and thanked God. There was more consideration for others, and the crossness and disagreement of his fellow-pupils at school was met by an indifference, which, however difficult to maintain, was imposing,' even in a boy. Sometimes the terrific rudeness of some rough fellow roused his late spirit of pugnacity, but his fierceness usually resulted now in a flash of the strong young eyes, and a curl of the quiet lip. He was not naturally a good child, in the usual acceptation of the term, but was fast becoming so. One could see that he was the stuff of which gentle- men are made. Months rolled by, and peace, like a river, flowed in the hearts of the minister's family. Waldo felt the sweet infiuences around him. His WALDO. 49 uncle Iwid proM.'iit('rii;lit wiiitor's eve. The l)uy was alone in liis room. His school l)Ooks had been laid aside, and lie was reading his lUhle aloud ; uttering words which, from his heart, he believed. Assurances of love unutterable rang in his ears. In even his ignorant young eyes the page blaze to rise, and sparkle, and thrill, and caress, whisper and chant, and weep and pray and call ! It towers like a rock in a weary land. It clasps like a shield It thrills like a hymn. It springs like a fountain. It beckons like a star. It sings like an angel. No other name would answer ! .11 WAM)0. 51 So Waldo tlioui'lit. All the consolation of religion depends on how we can utter that name — " Father ! " He stood still, and felt his heart heat to the sense of ])recious possession in those bright skies. Would lie ever see that tree of life, and could he bathe his tearful eyes in that river clear as crystal ? " "Oh, yes! there I shall be I " he uttered. "Wouldn't Fan be pleased to have no nights to be frightened in ^ In his case the name Waldo was another word for constancy and fearlessness. He had put his hand to the plough ; a small but faithful hand, and would never turn back. Oh, to tell Fan all about it ! His heart ran out more than ever to his precious little sister; but there twas never a hint, never an allusion, never a syllable, [that gave him a clue to her history. The months th...t followed were such as only come I once in a lifetime. A true, pure faith was growing up in his heart, fostered by the happy faces around him, and the daily evidences of a protecting Pro- jvidence. It seemed as if some mighty magician had stepped |from his boyish dreams and transformed life and him. |Everything was changed. No wonderland was ever fi I If', St: 52 WALDO. , t II fuller of interest tluiii tliat wliicli tlie i;reat Cuv\ had opened before liim. Kveiy day abounded in bo|)c and bappy sui^'j^estions. lie compared tbis dear bonie afterwards to tbe Ha^jpy Valley wlncb is b\uite'l I \l \ i! 'Ill I CHAPTER VIII. AN had never known what it was to want for ^ anything that money could buy ; but as she sat on her uncle's lawn one evening, the leaves falling from the trees around her, a storm brewing in the west, there was something settling upon her heart more oppressive than the heaviness in the atmosphere. Something]: somewhere must be worth livinof for. Oh, to find it ! There must be somethinoj somewhere to claim the interest for more than a miserable half- hour ! Sometimes she looked with yearning at the little, distant, dark cottages, at the smoke and dim lights of the wayside home, wondering if there there miofht be found contentment. " If I could only be in earnest about something ! " she murmured. " Why does the whole of life — all the exhilaration of learning, all tho advantages of society, the charm of beautiful surroundings, music, WALDO. 6.1 ciitcrtaiinnents — seem but like things seen in a dream? Of no real value." Everything about her was elegant and costly — her ('nil)roi(lere(l draper}', the jewels at her throat, the book in lier hand, her own person and bearing. Happy ! — if the world can make us so — she ought to have been. Yes, the marks of training, thought, and experience on her fair countenance spoke of anything liut neglect. Her belongings spoke of att'ection. She arose, and walked through the beautiful grounds. The cloud had passed while she sat there, and the sloping sun tipped with golden fire the western windows of the house, while a yeHow atmosphere lay, rich and dusky in the shady lawn. Before others Fan bore up, haughtily patient under her inward pangs. Now no one could see her ; no one. For she did beliove that there were beings who looked down on this rockinof, reelincj world. "Oh, heart of hearts ! *' she said, twisting: her solitaire ring till it hurt her fingers, " I thought you could be suffi- cient unto yourself, but time and experience have taught me that you are not." Suddenly a bush was pressed aside, and her uncle stood before her. He had the sarcastic, indulgent eyes of one trying to subdue a provoking child ; the smil- ii t: II (I Mill. J G6 WAIJ)0. in[^, linlf contoinptuous, severity of one who knows he can break the will opposinij him. " What a faculty for worsliip you women always have," he said, impationtly. "You make too much of feeling in a life whose chief object should be edu- cation and utility. Only the heathen and the super- stitious wish to worship." " It must be a happy feeling," said Fan, " even to conceive of any being worthy to be w^orshipped. I have been educated," she said, " but what then ? Give me something to keep back the terror of life, some- thincj to defend me from the dread of death. I feel sick of all that I have ever known." " Wise men tell us that employment is the remedy. Now, why will j'ou not be satisfied with learning more and more ? " " The more I read the more miserable I am ; for I learn that no man has ever yet found life worth living. This that I speak of is more than mere girl- ish sentimentality ! It sometimes besets me so that I seem to hear an inw^ard voice calling me, urging me to be something. I look around and ask myself, ' What ? ' " He looked at her with his cold, quiet, reasonable eye. She knew there was something hopeless and oppressive in arguing with her uncle. He was so WAF.DO. ()7 calm. She, coo, must ])e calm. But her very effort to quell her " foolish " unhappiness made her tremble. She was ashamed of her idle, purposeless life, yet she (lid not say so. Her eyes had a look in them that he knew too well — somethinof of blind, dumb yearn- ing ; somethini^ that wanted words to tell how the yoimg imprisoned spirit, ignorant of its i^lorious heri- taoro, was awaitinfj — it knew not what. " Oh, Uncle, if you knew how I feel, you would be lenient ; you would not judge me harshly," she whispered. "I think T know how you feel. There is nothing to be done that I have left undone," he answered. Ke breathed a little quickly, but stood as erect and still as she had seen him in the grandest company, " It is life ! " he exclaimed. " As Napoleon once said, ' To live is to suffer.' " '' The task of tasks had been to fill her mind wnth the new doctrines, broad views, liberal opinions, culti- vated ideals, so that when in her meandering she came across the word of Revelation it w^ould be incapable of Hading a foothold. She was like the blind lolanthe, kept ignorant of her own blindness, striv- to grasp the idea of color. She was as one wrestling unconsciously with the powers of darkness. She held out her hands. 1 ( 1 ■jl ;: ^ ; |i 1 ; 1 ■ i ■' ' i;l i "' : ; ;■■ 1 ' ;,i ■ H ! 1 1 1 '' :|:'-' ■ ] f j . t ■' i. ' '}\ :i 1 ,. ii Ji 1 1 1 t 68 WALDO. " Give me something to live for ! " she whispered " Give me somethins: to break this horrible ennui." "He that Cometh to Me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst," a Voice had once said ; but she had never heard that Voice. Her uncle looked at her curiously ; siie had a worn, exhausted look. But he had determined that she should not be burdened with those old doctrines about hell and lost spirits, and he could not cheer her with dreams of heaven. " Here is another life of Hume," he said, holding out to her a nicely bound volume. " T can't read any more of them ! " she cried. " Those awful lives ! those melancholy deaths ! " " Well, I have here what you crave." He held up a complete Bible, Old and New Ttista- ment. It was not very well bound. The sinking sun darted rays of splendor down upon its pages as he flippantly turned them. " Suppose I should put it up at auction," he said ; " how much do you think it would bring ? " " I have read so much against it," she said, " it would at least be entertain infj to me to read it." " It can no longer be suicidal to you. You are capable of reasoning. You are forestalled with argu- ments. You have obeyed me by not reading this book, waiting until I should give it to you." WALDO. 69 He bent and looked at her. " I have always thought that I saw something of myself in you," he murmured, affectionately. " How many times have I said, ' she is all truth, all candor. Your mother was all fire, warmth, intensity. She was soft, lustrous nijjht. But you are daylight. I always knew you would give me trouble, as you have done, but you are not silly. Perhaps it will give you pleasure to know that we leave for home next week." "Home ! " "Ah, you have lived abroad so long, and have trav- elled so much, you scarcely feel as if you have a home ! I shall go to my old home in New Orleans." He turned, and left her standing in the twilight, with a face suddenly flushed. " Home ! " she said softly, " my brother is there somewhere ! " She had often asked her uncle about him, but he had seemed to wish to tell her as little as possible, or he really knew nothing about him. Some mystery seemed to be connected with him. But she had a brother ! Perhaps he might help to make life happier, if she could meet him. She wondered if he felt lonely as she did, in the midst of company and plenty. "Waldo! y^a are the only brighr side I have to look to ! " she murmured. " Sometimes I think we shall never meet." hi ill 'i If '1' I It IN ; I CHAPTER IX. IT was a beautiful Sabbath morning in the city of New Orleans. The Methodist church was crowded, for many people had come, even from a distance, to witness the imposing ceremony of the ordination of preachers, and to hear the bishop's sermon, which was full of thought and fervor, preached from the text : " For me to live is Christ, to die is gain. » As the hour approached, and Waldo, the son of an inlidel, arose, and, with others, stood before the altar for ordination as a minister of Jesus Christ, there was a stir of curiosity in the crowd. When the bishop stood up, and the organ music rolled through the aisles, making the floor seem to tremble under his feet, Waldo bowed his head in prayer, asking God's blessing. As he thought of the coming years, consecrated to I 'iiii \A aldo. 71 the Saviour of the world, and passed peacefully in endeavoring to do good, he thanked God, and felt that he would rather be a door-keeper in the house of the Lord, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness. His heart echoed the words : "All is calm — all is bright — Glories stream from heaven afar!" But one face should have been there to complete his joy ; one dear face far away, not permitted to see this holy act of consecration, looking, perhaps, on scenes of worldly amusement and unsatisfying splendor. When the sermon was ended, and Waldo presented himself as a candidate, he felt his loneliness. He had not a relative there ; his uncle was dead, and his family was broken up and scattered. The young candidate's heart ached for one look of love. He was doing the right. He was joining, under the inspira- tion of a call from heaven, the grandest army this world ever saw, only there was no one to care, only there was no one to be proud of him. Only ! But his youth, and the light in his face, his deep, energetic responses, won the hearts of those assembled about him. Before the dark, shining pulpit, with its open Book, 72 WALDO. ill !ii . I :■!! .1 t if; J, he stood realizing the solemnity of the occasion ; and the people looked with pride at the erect, powerful form, the brave, earnest face, and noble head. Never did Crusader look more determined and devout. He knew that if he had never found Christ, his little heart, once so wild and wicked, would have remained as empty of happiness as the winter tree of leaves, and as full of bitter disappointment as the church was of people. There was no mother to sob in prayerful thanks- giving over him, no father waiting to grasp his hand, as only a father can, but surely his beloved sister might have been there rejoicing in his act ! " Take thou authority to preach the Word of God ! " The Bible — the great old Bible, searched by eyes now dust, was placed in his strong young hands. After the benediction was pronounced, the church was filled with triumphant music. Save for the color on his lips, Waldo's face was as pale as a marble image, but standing there as if loath to leave, consecrated to preach, he looked so good, so happy, so inspired, that many who had known him as a boy pressed forward to grasp his hand and bid him God-speed. They saw promise in his already sharply outlined character. The mass of reddi.sh hair rising up all over ■ WAI.DO. 73 liis s(|uare-built head, his high-featured face, lighted by steady blue eyes, presented such a contrast to the silver-haired bishop who was nearing the goal ! Hill had come in at the last in a handsome suit, but he did not treat the matter very seriously. He told Waldo he would rather hear him sing than ])reach. Waldo's first regular appointment was to a small church in the suburbs of the city. He had been poor all his life. He had grown poorer instead of richer, and this was not a very bright prospect ; but he felt it an honor to be sent even to that small charge. "Send me," he prayed, "far out of sight of all the rich, and great, and high. Only give me souls for my hire." That night the spiritual world seemed to him not only real, but almost visible. As he went home to his lodgings, he fancied himself not alone ; and, instead of going to his room, he lay down on the grass and gazed. " How glorious is our God ! " the stars seemed to cry out. " Oh, I know it ! I feel it ! " he said, aloud. "Henceforth there is for me a life in which angels may sympathize. It is only the film of earthliness and sin that prevents my seeing them. blessed ones, ' encamp ' about me ! " m 74 WALDO. !l^ 'in ;ii The air was haliiiy, and Waldo was tired. He tVL asleep and dreamed. He thoui^lit that he saw, through the white moonlit clouds, a pillar descend slowly and rest upon lib breast, and on it was written in large letters, " Preacli the Word ! " He awoke strengthened in spirit, and felt that power had been given him to stand firm by (loiL Word ; and he went on his way rejoicing. CHAPTER X. /^"~\UT in the suburbs of New Orleans there was a ^-^ stately house, into which misery had lately entered in the shape of three people. They were just from Germany. The heavy, beating, dreary rain seemed to add to their sadness. The liorhtnin^^ flashed down from the great, crawling black clouds. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. At this the host stared in amazement. Then an old waiting- woman ushered in a tine looking, half-drowned yoking man, who presented himself with a smile on his lips, but a grave inclination of the head before the host, Mr. Waldo York. " The storm has driven me in, sir," said the new- comer, hesitatingly. " Say no more. Be seated, sir. The night is beastly. It is well you stopped. You are drenched. Fan ! " he called, and seating himself by a little table, he poured 7G WALDO. I .i lii ■ : I 'k ■ '^1 i i I - 5 ' 1 i t k . 1 ' ! 1 out 8onie wine, and handed it to the stranger. It was declined with thanks. Mr. York turned suddenly. Something in the voice in the height, in the turn of the head, reminded him of some one. " Allow me to introduce iiiyself," said the youni; man. " My name is Waldo York, I am a ministei-. I was just on my way — " The look in the face before him stopped him. " My name is York also," said the host, with colil self-possession, as tlie door opened. " I have the honor, sir, to introduce you to your sister, I think." Then, with a sudden, secret prayer darted up to heaven, Waldo turned, looked an instant, and sprang: forward, holding out his arms, with a joyful cry. " Fan ! At last ! Oh, thank God ! Come at last ! " His face was radiant, his eyes burned. There was a sob, a long embrace. Brother and sister had met. What a contrast to his mental pictures ! Gone forever was his loving, blue- eyed little sister. This tall, well-dressed lady, standing beside his scholarly uncle, this was the being of whom he had dreamed, for whom he had vowed to labor lovingly- while life should last. This was the little, fairy sister ^p WALDO. 77 I for wliosc return lie had prayed — never iniaf^ining that sh(^ could change toward him. Ho luid often imagined how he wouhl meet her, ]i()\v tlie rod of faith slioukl smite, like the prophet's uf old, upon their uncle's rocky heart, and they would be divided no more. But no matter ! It was Fan. That was enoujifh. " 1 knew I should find you again ! '* he said. •' How did you know it ? " asked his uncle. "Because for long years I have prayed for it." Mr. York smiled, and the smile jarred upon Waldo's sensitive heart, especially as there was a faint reflec- tion of it in Fan's face. "She's all I've got !" he said, almost appealingly, to his uncle. " If you only knew how I have looked forward to this meeting." "Well," said his uncle, with a singular smile, " your prayers are answered." How well Waldo recalled that picture afterwards. Fan, standing there, tall and stately and elegant, a very (jueen in beauty and grace of mien. He remem- bered the costly, purple cloth suit, so becoming to her style. He could see afterwards, as he saw then, the proud smile of her guardian* uncle as he presented her. The storm soon died away. The parlors were like fairy-land that night. From the windows could be 7s WALDO. seen the fitful moonliglit on the water, and the motionless trees. Within, the book-cases represented a silent, ghostly, scholarly crowd of witnesses to what might take place there. There on the wall, in irre- proachable binding, was Buckle, just waiting to let you become acquainted with him. Solemn, pencilled heads looked out from the shadows — Kant, Strauss, Renan. Voltaire, Paine, smiled out of gilded frames upon humanity which they claimed to have set right. Here was art, culture, quiet, beauty, luxury. Even the clock in the bac^ parlor ticked in a musical, reasonable manner. Here was a clock representing a little ship moving back and forth, with the minutes for waves. The very fire-place was a work of art in brass. Into all this splendor had burst Waldo, plain in dress, jaded from hard study and overwork and exposure, but gloriously youthful with it all, and the happiest looking man Fan thought she had ever seen. " You can't be Fan ! " he said, catching her up enthusiastically in one encircling arm. "Darling sister ! should you know me ? " " Let her look first ! " said his uncle, moving toward them with his arms outstretched. " Stand still." " Fan is living," Waldo had often said, " and prays, perhaps, for my safety ! " He now stood looking at the fair, frail girl, almost l!',l WALDO. 70 terpentine in her slenderness — almost glmstl^ in her pallor — his beautiful sister, and letting her look at \\n\. Fan's voice seemed lost, and he, watehinij her, jonld not tell whether she was disappointed in him )r not. He felt a little confused, and wished he could ;ee her alone. Mr. York said something intended to jc funny, and Waldo laughed musically, seated him- self in a chair and stared up at Mr. Darwin, whose pictured eyes looked down into the young minister's rt'ith a gaze of warning. Something in the face of his sister stimulated WaMo to reveal himself more fully. Had she under- stood that he was a minister of the Gospel ? " How unlike my room ! " he said, glancing around. 'I am accustomed to having my Bible open before ine, Wesley on my right, Milton on my left. I warn von that John Stuart Mill's attenuated face over there will give you the blues." Fan was a little puzzled to reply. "You do not look like a reverend, sir," said his uncle, encircling his wine-glass with his hand and gazing deliberately at him. " My outward man may not show it, but my thoughts and ideas are of the oldest possible cut," said Waldo, glancing at the girl. Fan ! Fan I he I'eally saw nothing else. She must know how he stood, 80 WALDO. 4 !i •i , 1 i I t 1 '■i\' 'I' But she Wi.s bewildered. Her heart was throbbin*; so because he liad called her " darlirif^ sister," and yet he really believed in the Bible and Christ, and was old fogyish ! "Waldo," said his uncle, "you know my views! Fan thinks with me, and we must agree to differ. Every man has a right to his own opinion. It was my purpose to prevent this meeting until Fan's views were entirely established, and I have done so. My brother, who raised you, was doubtless a good man ; but, of course, he could not rear you with liberal views and be consistent to his Church, and now you think as he did. I am an Agnostic, and Fan thinks as I do. There let it rest. Now that you have found each other, I can see no reason why you should not simply accept the situation, and enjoy each other's society. As your work is near, come and get ac- quainted — only don't expect to find us all singing psalms every time you come." Waldo thanked his uncle, and consented, at his invitation, to remain till Saturday evening with them. An overwhelming pain had come upon him during his uncle's little speech — a pain more searching, more terrible, than any he had ever known. But he told hir^.oclf he would save his sister through her love for him. WALDO. 81 And Fan was sayinijf to horscU', " He is here ! he is here ! " For so many years she had lioped for his cominor. She had never seen a stranpje young man with her uncle, without thinkinfj it miMit be Waldo. She had never seen a letter with an unusual postmark but she dreamed it might say that they were to meet soon. She never travelled without wondering if she mif^ht not meet him in some unexpected way. If she had prayed at all when she was a little girl, she would have prayed that every little boyish figure she met might be his. " You have, after all, missed your calling, Waldo," said his uncle. What do you want with the muscles of a gladiator in the pulpit ? " "They are especially needed by ministers," said Waldo. "A preacher's work is not all done behind a desk ; he must go into highways, and hedges, and garrets." Mr. York made a orrimace. It grew more and more galling to Waldo to have to see his uncle in possession of — and with so tight a hold upon what he had always regarded as his own. He rebelled against the thought, and once more, as in younger days, but stronger than ever before, the desire rushed over him to win h\» sister from thif» 6 irt i; ,1 ,+ ; ,i I I ; 1 I I :'9 I' ■' ! I t! 'I! '■ij{ [(I y I'll ii^'''!li 82 WAI.DO. usurper. And once more came the recoil — the wretched sense of youth and impotence. " Strange," said hi« uncle, " that your father should have sent you to be brought up by a preacher. I doubt if he kept his mind ! And, Waldo, I don't want to hear any of St. John's and St. Paul's views. Attend, if you will, to your own 'salvation.' Don't interest yourself about mine." His nephew's appearance had caused him quite a shock. Waldo was so different from what he had thought him to be. This young man was sharp- witted ! What a solicitor he would have made I What a statesman ! actor ! Now he was thrown awa^' upon the Christian Church ! Waldo might have been artistic, literary, musical — unlike himself, who was nothing in particular. He was perplexed, and not overpleased, for he hated excitement, tragedy, and he had been living on the verge of tragedy for two months past with Fan, she had become so dissatisfied with everything ; and now he told himself that its culmination in human form stood before him in the presence of his nephew, who would prc\,abiy drive Fan to suicide, with his doctrines. t CHAPTER XI. ( .,^^] 4i "IT TALDO would have been blind, indeed, not to ^ ' have recognized the lact that his uncle liked him little. Not a word ot* welcome, not a question as to how he had fared — nothing but a confused silence> broken by attempts at hospitality. Waldo was bewildered at tirst, but gradually the meaning of it all grew plain to him. Fan had been weaned from him, the canting Christian, by their uncle, whose hard, common-sense governed her. His longing to be confronted with Mr. York was .satisfied at last! H^s dread had been only of Fans unhap- pine^s. No shadow of a doubt of her lo'/e had ever crossed his mind. And to find her an intide) ! He felt a keen pF'\g when he addressed the beau- tiful, reserved creature, who he kept trying to con- vince himsr'f was really his sister Fan. Hav^'ng Uiade his speech, Mr. York was standing before the 84 WALDO. I 'i!- V1 ■ ! 1 < !■ ■.■-\ .1: ii 111. ■■ i-.i'ii, . i;i.! 1 , ; 'ill 1 .'1 '! ''ill i l< t :t;i: '■!l ' "'I' fire-place, silently regardinf^ the two. There was power, a terriliie sort of power in that tall attenuated frame of his. A erushinf^ sense of his ability to rasp, w^ound and censure was conveyed to Waldo in the smooth voice, in the keen eyes which seemed to say : " Behold your sister ! she is all that art, science aiid fashion can make her 1 Regard her acfain, you who have spent the years in praying to ' Our Father !' " Waldo almost held his breath, and looked. There was the being who had been his little idol, w^rapped in the icy desolation of scepticism. The bright w^avy hair still crowned the snov/y forehead, the delicately chiselled lips wore the same fulness and flexibility. But if he had seen her in the marble arms of death he would not have suffered more than he did. He had imagined her dead, long ago ; the tiny waxen fingers clasped together, and the long hair playing like sunlight over the lily neck and shoulders, but not like this — cold, proud, unapproachable — look- ing w^ith a certain condescension upon a preacher of the Gospel. The fair casing — the beautiful form was charming, and he, intensely fond of the beautiful, delighted in her loveliness, in her graceful manner, in the smooth hifrh-bred calm of her voice. He delighted in listening to her talk, hearing her play on the harp, and sing (which she did at her uncle's request), in I WALDO. 85 sittinu' near her; but the diamond was j^one, the treasure was stolen away, her heart was no lonojer his. ^. ^r.' [n all the i^reat cold world there was not one livin<^ rj soul to whom he could turn, outside of his uncle David's family, and they had broken up and moved away. Could there never be any more sunshine, any more cheery, loving words for him from his oiuti.^ I After supper Waldo and his uncle were alone in the parlor for a short while. I " The only thing I have neglected in Fan's education I is drawing," said Mr. York, showing Waldo some sketches. Waldo seized his uncle's arm. A ravini^ anijuish was in his heart. He exclaimed : " You have neglected something of infinitely more importance than that, uncle ! You have starved her soul. You have separated us indeed. You refused my prayer — a little boy's heart-broken prayer — that I might write to my sister. You thought best not to allow it. She was carried abroad to live, while my heart broke over my little Fan — my all !" He spoke rapidly, thickly. " God have mercy upon me ! Is it a crime to kill the body, and a lawful thing to ruin the soul ? Oh, may you not live to have your heart trampled, crushed, and tinally raised to be crushed again, as mine is." 86 WALDO. 'III I i i 1 M I I!-, I .■I il His arm, whicli he liatl raised,. sank to his side. Mr. York kept his seat quietly. WaMo put his arms upon the table in front of him, howed his head upon them, and mourned as for the dead. His uncle, with tiojhtly compressed lips, watched him. " I knew how it would be," he muttered to himself. " You live in darkness. The spiritual atmosphere is higher, healthier here, where we feel the liberalizinjT influences of the age ; but you will not admit it; oh, no." "It is a sad, unnatural life for a youni^ s'^^h" said Waldo, trying to be gentle. " Sad ! Unnatural ! To learn wisdom, to associate with the learned." Waldo's deep eyes burned upon his uncle from un- der his heavy brows. " And this is your wisdom ! " said Waldo. "' To be as the corpse whose ears are closed to the call of God, whose eyes are sealed ; who sees no glory in anything. What has your dead wisdom done for my sister ? How has Darwin helped her ? By-and-by, when life is hard, she will cry out, ' I cannot bear my sorrow ! ' The 'new' school of morality, materialism, and no- Christ will extract no thorn from her path." He glanced up at the authors. "Which one has made the idea of death endurable for her ? None of 1 I WALDO. 87 tliem have approaclied the grave to lift the pall. They dare not '.' : i, ..I I,;' ! ■'■\ :rrn ' j I i 11 I : i ' 'T • ! 'I i'l ; I 1 1 I, , I ■ his childhood. He was a homely, but interesting, lad. He tyrannized over Fan, w^ho was accustomed to yield to him to preserve a show of peace in the family. Tutors he abjured at twelve. From eight o'clock in the morning till ten at night he did what he pleased. " You were using violent and improper language," said his father to him. " If I do it, it is because I've heard you do it. I have better manners than to do it in company." " Hush ! This is your cousin Waldo, Fan's brother. My son, Waldo." " That ? " queried Foxy, with undisguised disappro- bation. Then he offered his hand. But Foxy felt his superiority to a parson, and showed it. '* I wash I could hear Edwin Booth to-night in Hamlet ! " he said. " You have, instead, your reverend cousin," said his father. " He will soften you down and keep you in order." " I don't want to be softened down and kept in order I " said Foxy, leaving the room. " I see you are sympathizing with Foxy," said Mr. York. " Yes, my son is lame ; I had so many delights in life," he added, with a bitter smile, " the Good Being you speak of, I suppose, decided to soften me by means of a little cross. I was to content WALDO. 89 myself with storing his mind with lovely New Testa- ment riddles, while he limped about and snarled. Noble idea ! This is what you preachers call a dis- pensation of Providence, a blessing in disguise, I am not orthodox, and I call it the destruction of the last small hope I had, for Foxy is violently unhappy. In fact, he is not what is technically known as a good boy. He and Fan will brook little, Waldo ; they will not bear reproof." " Uncle," said Waldo, in a firm but respectful tone, " I should be unworthy of my calling if I remained dumb or intimidated before them." " Something tells me in awful tones that the time is coming when I shall be judged," continued WaJdo, "judged as Christ said, according to the deeds done in the body. O sir ! the pitying Christ is still a Saviour. Turn to Him and live ! He will be a Judge. When a man dies, it is not true that he may have no hope of resurrection. \/e shall rise. The good Christian shall join his loved ones, and spend eternity in pleasure at the right hand of God. What do you live for if you do not believe in a future existence ? What is your aim in life ? " " To get all I can out of it," said Mr. York. " Judging from your looks, I should imagine that is not much," said Waldo. no WALDO. Ill ■^i ill V m \i\ w This palo, sinewy youth was terribly in earnest. He kept walking- up and dowMi, occasionally addressing,' his uncle directly, at other times glancing out at the dark river and the city liijhts. He bec^ofed his uncle to throw aside his pride of learning, and judge for himself. There was nothinjx in human form that Waldo could not face, so he did not tremble when he stood face to face with his sneering kinsman. He had taken that slight, nervous hand, in a grip close and powerful, as he made his appeal to him, when the door was opened by the pugnacious looking old butler, Joins, and visitors were announced. Waldo excused himself, and went to his room, piloted by Joins. There he seemed unable to sit still, and he paced the floor. Finally, his one refuge, prayer, somewhat relieved him. He repeated a favorite verse : " In darkest shades, if Thou appear. My dawning is begun I " And again : " When Thou comest to make up Thy jewels." Joins, listening without, was frightened, and went down stairs; and, before he retired, hid the silver plate first under a corner of the carpet, then over his bed canopy, and at last sewed it up for the night at the foot of the mattress. WALDO. 91 " He's too darned Derlite fcer be honest ! " said Joins. Foi' the faithful preacher had not failed to speak a word for the Master, even to that lost sheep. Joins talked the matter over with the cook, and they came to the conclusion that Mr. York was not entertaining an angel unawares. " Preachers ! " said Joins, suspiciously, " I've seen preachers before, an' they ain't what they orter be ! Joy go wid 'em an' their sp'eres ! They jest go along on sniilin' and talkin' about this waste howlin' wilder- ness an' the bounds of iniquity. Now, some folks is folks' nefies, an' some ain't ; an' this man don't look like nobody's nefy. He jest looks like he's all by hisself. But he looks bright an' rajiant all the same. Now I take it a reg'lar parson don't never look like that. Some things is fac's, and some ain't. A parson ! Miss Fan's brother is somethin' higher than that ! " *^ :^^. >:.*:«',.,- *<-'^ \'.^ "i^ CHAPTER XII. lit ir ; I'; t 'I 1 I' 'i' i!^ , Mil i4:.i^f iiiiijik T T r ALDO walked out the next day. On the street ^ ^ he saw husbands and fathers hastening to wives and children ; mothers returnino- from shopping tours, whose chief burdens were presents for dear ones at home; brothers and sisters playing in the sunshine. " I only seem left out alone 1 " he thought. But when he returned to his uncle's, he found Foxy await- ing him, to ask more questions, which Waldo answered to the boy's satisfaction, and Fan thawed a little. Evening drew on. '* Waldo," said his uncle, " I've got a challenge for you. Are you fond of duels ? " Who could want to fight him ? Whom had he offended ? Who was his enemy ? Waldo wondered. " No, I am not," he said. " My cause inspires cour- age, and promises glory without fighting or plunder ! " His uncle laughed. WALDO. 0.*^ "A man desires to take your life, or — it amounts to the same to you — your faith. He is a young neigh- i bor of mine, a Mr. Edmondstone. I invited him and a .ji Miss Roland to come over. They will V)e here to tea. :i I said it would be tine fun to see you two college boys j sparring at each other with mental hoxing-gloves." He treated it all as a joke. "You will just talk a little, you know," said Mr. York ; " but from entirely different standpoints. Fred Edmondstone is as gentlemardy as possible." " I have no objection to talking with any one on the subject of religion," said Waldo. " It is to me an all- absorbing topic." " Have you ever met an infidel in controversy ? " "I met at college a third cousin on my mother's side, who believed he was an infidel," said Waldo. His uncle looked at him quickly, keenly. "Ah, I must lend you some books, Waldo, that will convince vou " — " Miss Roland and Mr. Edmondstone ! " announced Joins. The new-comers were introduced, and suppe;' was announced soon after. Mr. Edmondstone was a lawyer, some years older than Waldo. When they returned to the parlors, he made a remark about " Robert Elsmere," and asked Waldo if he had read its argu- ments. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) i //A Y A / o 4f f *' M.") ///// h7 (/. ^ 1.0 !lf I.I 1.25 *^ |40 ~ ■■■■ 1.4 M II 2.2 1 2.0 1.8 1.6 V] <^ /i 7. >^ 7 #» ^.^i> ^> te #k 1 94 WALDO. Waldo said he had not. " Not read ' Robert Elsmere ! ' " "Yes; but I did not find any arguments," said Waldo. "I found some statenients." " The book can't be refuted ! " "There is no need to try. it refutes itself," said Waldo. Edmondstone flushed. His lips grew unsteady. "It seals its own doom," said Waldo, cojUy. "It covers its own characters with confusion. It ridicules its own sophistry unwittingly." " How, pray ? " " The writer first wrecks her ships, t];en, after try- ing in vain to set them sailing again, closes the book with the assumption that the reader is satisfied with the happy thought, that those sinking men who oould not save themselves, have discovered a new plan for saving others, and guiding ships aright, for all time. The writer is a woman whose notion of a hero is that he should be like a weathercock." " What do you think of Goethe ? " asked his uncle, in a teasing tone. " What do you think of him, sir ? Would it be well to imitate his life ? " " But his writings ? " " I cannot separate the two*'^ m WAT. DO. 95 " He was a grand, fearless, capable being ! " " Fearless ? He would not allow the suVject of death to be mentioned in Ids presence. When his dearest friend, Charlotte Von Stein, died, he ordered that the funeral procession should not pass his door. When his son died, he spoke of it as the 'going away' of liis son. Grand ? He wounded, by unreasonable coldness, loving Schiller. Voltaire was his ideal char- acter. Capable ? Of what ? Poetry ? ' Faust ' is founded on the book of Job. Besides, poetry will not be a sufficient thing to hand up, bound, at the last day. I usually read a man's life first. If, afterwards, I desire to read his writings, I hold his own lamp in my hand to read them by, and am influenced accord- ing as the light falls en the page." "And a man whom you considered not 'good,' could not influence you ? " "Not at all," said Waldo. " You are foolish," said his uncle. " Then the best thing I can do is to associate with the wise," said Waldo, bowing to both men. "It doesn't matter to me with what pretty words the Christless men write. I would rather have the food of the gods served to me in plain and homely dishes, than indiges- tible viands in silver." "Was Voltaire a fool, sir?" asked his uncle, with mock meekness: 96 WALDO. " I think so. God called a better man one once. The great French sceptic lived a wicked life and died a dreary death ; therefore, his opinions could in no possible way affect me. ' Prove all things ; hold fast that which is good,' is my motto." " But you read ' Robert Elsmere.' What particular fault do you find with it? " said his young antagonist. " I find mistakes, aside from its faults." " Kindly corref»t them." " It gives one to understand that the Gospels are a kind of mythology." " Yes." " Mythology," said Waldo, " was written by culti- vated Greeks. They were men capable of personifying experiences. But it is said that the plain fishermen of Galilee were unlettered men. Then how could they have produced anything so magnificent as the history of Christ ? So wonderful, that a Dant^ draws from them, a Raphael paints according to them ; Churches, powerful and eternal, lift themselves up on the shoulders of the four Gospels, and you yourselves to-night, owe the peace surrounding you to that un- acknowledged source. Why has nobody * imagined,' or ' concocted,' such a story Vjefore or since ? Why has no other good man claimed to be the Christ, that he might be the shining human example the book WALDO. 97 ' Robert Elsmere ' declares He was. If the book tells us Ho was human altogether, let it substantiate that sayinof by finding a fault in Christ's character. I think it was to Talleyrand a man went and said he wanted to set himself up as Christ. ' All you have to do is to be crucified :tnd lise from the dead ! ' said the ^reat man. Why has no one come ? It seems, according to that book, ' Robert Elsmere,' a very simple way of doing good. It seems strange that all the laws in the civilized world should hang upon such things as this — ' mistakes of Moses,' and the ' fancies ' of four poor ignorant fishermen. This story, ' badly told,' we are informed, and its great central forms, are to dwindle before some ' Robert Elsmere.' " " Now, sir, convinced of your ability," said Edmond- stone, with veiled sarcasm, " I should like, some future day, to introduce you to a few of my infidel friends. I know one Buddhist, two Pantheists, one Agnostic and several Universalists. Learn from the mistakes of ' Robert Elsmere.' Convert instead of being con- verted. It is a little more difficult, it is true. I tell you, you will not find it a May game, this standing teeth to teeth with the enemy. Wait till you meet our grand old Pagan, Dr. Roland ! " Waldo went on earnestly. " The book, ' Robert Elsmere,' asks, * How do we 7 m V 98 WALDO. ^Ii! ;Ji 'f i H I ■! !i know the things told in the New Testament to be facts?' I answer, that the mind of man is not original. It cannot create. It imitates — draws from — builds upon facts someivhere. The writers of the New Testament had them. Where are the infidels' facts ? They have none. A denial is nothing. They form no isolated history. They give us a bundle of negatives. They are not consistent. They contradict to-day what they asserted yesterday. They take away the Messiah, and give us — a 'Robert Elsmere!' All they attempt is a demand for facts. The}^ want us to prove a certain thing — the Incarnation — has happened. We say it has. Let them, then, prove that it has not." mm^ CHAPTER XIII. " ^W'OU need not rise, young men ! " said Mr. York, ^ somewhat sharply, as they both rose instan- taneously to their feet; "you can sit down and glare at each other just as well." Miss Roland was leaning back in her chair, laughing softly. Fan's face was blanched. She tor- mented herself for one m nent with the possibility that her brother was right, and the next with the probability that he v^ras wrong. " The author," said Waldo, " of the book, ' Robert Elsniere,' wants a God we can understand intel- lectually, when, if one was furnished her to-night, she would be the first to reject such a monstrosity. They cry for evidence ! Why, who but a Christian ever shouted, smiled, and sang at the stake ? Who but a Christian ever bore poverty cheerfully ? Who but a Christian can tell of marvellous answers to i' ' !(•■ 100 WALDO. prayer ? Very substantial answers, too ! Who but a Chi'istian keeps a peaceful heart and face with the (Irai^on care at his heels, the young lion of temptation buffeting him. and the adder of illness coiling at his heart ? Who but a Christian can walk the world and feel no fear, sleep like an infant, die as a child puts its arms around its mother's neck ? Whom do you trust like a Christian ? I have yet to see the first happy man out of Christ." " Waldo ! don't preach ! " said his uncle. " Let him go on," said Emondstone, with lenient scoi n. "You have nev^er been conscious, while vou were denying the Saviour," said Waldo, drawing nearer to Edmondstone — never of something speaking to you ? Did you listen ? Did you hear no voice ? Be honest ! No inner voice ?" Edmondstone laughed, but grew paler. " I didn't — I can't, of course, analyze every feeling 1 ever had ! " he said, " I listen only to my reason. Don't deal in subleties." " But you have been out some night, alone ! An impulse grew upon you to climb higher — do some noble deed. Your soul mounted to God ! You won- dered how it got there — fairly into Heaven ! You find no way in philosophy. Follow faith, and lift 'J-. WALDO. 101 i your reason up to it ! Do we not love above the mental grasp ? The idea of looking upon Christ as a merely good man, whose example we may safely follow, will never receive a substantial foothold. ' 'Tis an empty sea-shell, one Out of which the pearl is gone.' " Waldo had not had the opportunity to take any particular notice of his uncle during this conversation ; but Mr. York had scanned his nephew, and had thought him a little giant, fighting on the wrong side, and he made up his mind not to buffet him, but to set him right. The noble frame, and nobler intellect, attracted him oddly, and along with the most brilliant powers, the young fellow had muscle and nerve con- cealed under his slimness and clerical robes. He had still that grand-seigneur air of one born to position. Mr. York had been blessed with two wives, and was now a second time a widov/er, with one child. He had become dissatisfied with the state of society, and thought marriage a failure, as well as the Gospels a jest. " Waldo," he said, " I wouldn't believe that a man like you would let a set of whining preachers and shouting old women get the upper hand of you, so that you throw away all your chances in life ! Don't stand in the old ruts croaking your ' Never more ! ' 102 WALDO. V I !i i •: 13 1 /I III li» .1! Come with the enlightened ones. l>on't be so ready to believe all those stories about Jesus Christ." "May I ask," said Waldo, "how it will benefit nie or the human race to bereave us of a Saviour ? Will we be more c^entle, more lovinj^, more hopeful and helpful wit/tout Him .? Will a man's life be better because the Lord's Prayer is stricken out of its daily routine. Chisel the promises off of the tombstones, and take from a dying beggar the story of Lazarus, who is benefited ? And if a man dies believing Christ has saved him, whom does it harm ? You ? Most of us are not so fortunate as Goethe. He said, * When I need a God, I can find Him.' We need Him always, and Kiust get to Him, as best we can, at all hours. It is certainly a blessing to no one that the laborious infidels have come to their wise decisions." There was something alert and impressive in Waldo's mode of speaking. He found no difficulty in looking any one straight in the eye. " Proof ? " he whispered with intensity, his eye flashing with immortal fires. " Don't ask man for it. Ask God — to-night ! Give Him your heart, and see what He will do with it ! " This made lawyer Edmondstone angry. Was he commanded to " get religion," and by this stripling ? He who knew Spinoza, Shelley and Heine almost by WALDO. 103 heart? Tears of rage rushed to his eyes, and presently the conversation, led by the host, slipped into other channels. Anecdotes were told, and it came out by de<^rees, that for years Mr. Edinondstone had drunk rather immoderately, gambled, dragged younger men down ; but was no worse than the ordinary society man. It also drifted out, that the same period had been an heroic one with Waldo — when he had wrestled with poverty, giving out of his small purse to those in need. " He is poorer than I ! " was the sentence that well-nigh impoverished him during the ten years' struggle of a poor preacher's nephew. Ten years of suffering and self-sacrifice, and love to God and man. Fan noted it. Her brother was purer and grander than tha,t Edmondstone. Whatever made the differ- ence, it was there. And yet, she felt ashamed of his zeal. It was foolish excitement. " You must meet Dr. Roland," said his uncle, looking curiously at him. " The Doctor is exclusive, and vastly learned, but he may talk with you, though, as a rule, he scorns lesser lights, and don't want to waste his time with boys. But when he finds you narrow, look out. He likes broad, liberal views. As for me, I am not concerned with views; but I object to narrowness, as I object to a cramped apartment. Dr. Roland is a lion —who sometimes roars." 104 WALDO. I. '1 i ''''y 1 ill '.■ ■' ■■; ) 1 'iit ' > iiL .'■'' ^' " You would not like for the laws of your land to be too lenient ? We insist on the enforcement of our own laws. * Strai<>fht is the gate, and narrow is the way — " The world is getting wiser, every day, sir ! " said his uncle. " Do you think we have a man to-day of Shake- speare's calibre ? " asked Waldo. "Well, n— no; but"— " He l)elieved in hell. He saw God, heaven, salva- tion, redemption and the Cross, on one side ; and hell, Satan and remorse, evils we know not of, on the other. He makes a narrow path between — as narrow as St. Matthew does ! He did not consider the soul a mere bagatelle, and the right a mere alternative, nor death oblivion — ** * To die, to sleep — to sleep ! perchance to dream ; ay, there's the 1 ub ; For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause ! ' " " The Doctor is an author, sir," said his uncle. "He will put you in a book. I confess I wouldn't take the trouble to do it. You will hate him in one hour after you know him." " I think not." WALDO. 105 " He will tell you you have no reason for saying that Christ rose from the dead." " As much reason as he has for saying that Augustus Csesar ever reigned, or that Homer was blind, or that Socrates took poison — even from his standpoint ! " ' -- r- r— i , 1 1 i ' 1 1 1 t : ■ CHAPTER XIV. DOCTOR ROLAND I " said the butler, opening the door and letting in a dark Hercules, with grept, far-seeing eyes, and an intolerant air. " Well ! we were just speaking of you," said Mr. York, presenting him ; " sit down." " Can't stop." said the good-looking widower and sceptic, taking no particular notice of any one, after a careless ''Happy to meet you," to Waldo, and frown- ing on the young lady beside Fan. " Clarie," he said to Miss Roland, who was his younger sister, and lived with him, " why will you take away every key in the land, just as the servants are oft' on a tremendous jollification ? You are a monomaniac on the subject of keys. You'll lock me up one of these days, and take the keys with you visiting ! " Laughing, she gave him a bunch of keys. He then ■•I* WALDO. 107 crlanced up hungrily at Mr. York's host of authors. He took a new book down from the shelves, and Waldo saw that his hand shook as with the palsy. He saw the blue veins stand out on his forehead. What terrible black eyes he had, and what masses of black hair ; how eagerly his glance scanned the worth- less page ! "Another," said Waldo to himself, "whose prized anti-Christ authors are eating the very heart out of hiin. Another being prepared for a dreary death. Another triumphantly wrong. " " In regard to women," said the Doctor, turning the leaves of the book with the most remarkable agility, as an adept handles cards, " I have remained in a sLate of absolute idiocy. Nature, man, revelation, have all been satisfactorily explained ; but woman " — They all laughed. " Eve — conundrum of the universe — I bow my knees in the dust before you ! " He bent gracefully toward Fan and his sister. " We are poor." He looked at Waldo. " In vain I ask myself, what there is to steal, who there is to steal, and how anything is to be stolen? Clarie is in this like she is about the man under the bed. You know, she insists there is a man secreted under the bed every aight, only waiting till the lights are out to play the 108 WALDO. burt^lar, and have our blood. One night your boy, Foxy, was over at our house, and I persuaded him to f'et under the bed. When she found his feet protrud- ing, I thought Clarie would faint ; but the ' man ' hasn't been mentioned since. Fearless Fan, now, is a heroine. Do you know, sir, that your sister is hunting after truth ? " he asked Waldo ; " dares to follow the boldest thinkers — has for some years done so ? But what truth is, fearless Fan at eighteen, when pushed to the wall, cannot say ! " They little dreamed that even then Waldo's suffer- ing heart was uplifted to the throne of grace, praying that Fan, amid so many temptations, might come to love and trust the Word of God, which his clear insight told him she now despised. " She is hard-headed ! " said Dr. Roland. " 1 hope, sir, you are not like her, though her brother ! " This with much despair. "If she is afraid of error, I am like her," said Waldo. " Afraid ? " What a sneer on the handsome lips ! " Yes, I think I am — terribly afraid of sin." ''You are in the chain-gangs of Christianity. These knees of mine, sir, once bowed at your Cross. I passed days without sitting down ; many nights with eyes wide open. I received the Saviour with cries of passion- ii^ WALDO. 109 ate joy at twenty-four, and at forty- four found that no such Beir»g had ever existed." " How ? " " By the use of common sense." And your common sense has prepared you to die and meet this Saviour — in case there should be one ? " " Certainly." "Have you ever known a Christian on his death- bed to declare that he had been mistaken ? " " That doesn't prove anything ! " •' Have you ever known of infidels asserting on their death-beds that they were mistaken and lost ? " " Old, sir ! old as the hills, all that twaddle ! " " An-^wer." " My answer is that Christianity is failing. Men are becoming wiser," said the Doctor. " I deny positively the correctness of that state- ment," said Waldo. " It is a mistake." " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " "The Church is growing every year," said Waldo. " Its growth from the first has been marvellous. It started, as you say, with four ignorant men. Look at its members now. You have had, according to all appearances, men wiser and better qualified. Where are your numbers ? What have you accomplished ? " " I have no patience with youth ; hot-headed, • I f; no WALDO. M III sanguine, ridiculous youth ! " broke out the phj'sician, with half-suppressed vehemence. " Study. Read Goethe." "And die, like he did, crying, * More light! ' I would rather be like that Christian painter who, when dying, asked, * Where does all this light come from ? ' or like one of my own people, who said, 'Open the doors and windows ! Let heaven and glory in ! ' The sceptic boasts great liberality. He will bear all ; Spinoza and St. John, Voltaire and Moses, prophets, atheists, pagans, Confucius and Christ. This is his peculiar glory. But he does not care to hear of the Christian's triumph over death. He is so liberal, he informs the world, that he changes his God now and then. With a hundred keys he opens a hundred boxes, each enclos- ing a box; the last enclosing a box which, without revealing its secret, shuts him in, and all is dark. The man whose religion is beauty, whose worship is of nature, and whose aim is culture, is not the highest type of man." " You are going to teach men how to reach the highest form ? " " God helping me ! " " Hadn't you better not attempt too much at once ? It is not customary to teach men to walk before they can crawl. Fool's errand. Waste of time ! " muttered WALDO. Ill the Doctor. " You are still in the nursery yourself — an ' Illuminatus Minor!'" He turned aoain to the book-case. Then he looked furtively at Waldo, and was surprised, disappointed, to find in his face no sif^n of anger or perturbation. " You are in the nursery of learning yet, I say!" even sharper than before. Waldo inclined his head forward, with a twinkle in his eye. "Then let me remain there." " Remain ! " here the Doctor choked for utterance. " If you were my nephew — I — I must be going ! " The Doctor took oat his great watch and made a face at the lateness of the hour, but did not go. " You haven't even ojone far enouofh to doubt the miracles ? " he asked, turning again to Waldo. " Not even far enough for that, inasmuch as I acknowledge my own existence to be one worked to- day, before my eyes, in my very being. I have a test for what I believe — a standard." " What is it ? " "I simply take the New Testament to the Old. They agree in spirit. They agree in characterization. They utter the same truths." " Waldo," said his uncle, " You believe that little anecdote about Jonah — believe that it all happened " i\ i 111 m ^ 1 2 WALDO. in that absurd way ? And you think God has a hell sOxT\ewhere ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! " Then Mr. York repeated some ot Heine's sayinc^s, and laughed lightly. Waldo rose from his chair and exclaimed, in a voice hoarse with feeling, " O awful, awful name of God ! Light unbearable ! mystery unfathomable ! vastness immeasurable ! V/'ho are these who come forward to explain the mystery, and gaze unblinkingly into the depths of the light, and measure the immeasurable vastness to a hair's breadth ? Name, that God's people of old did fear to utter ! O light, that God's prophet would have perished had he seen ! Who are these now so familiar with it ? " The men were silent. Fan felt a thrill of pleasure that was half pain. Waldo looked so noble. What a pity it was that he was all wrong ! * ^ « ^ ^ * " Well, Waldo," said Mr. York, when the visitors were gone, "you were going to prove a great deal ; but you didn't, you know. Come, tell me why the four Gospels do not agree ? " " They do agree perfectly." " Ah ! one tells more than another, and differently." " One night," said Waldo, " I was sick. A large fire broke out very near us ; but I saw nothing of it. WALDO. 113 After it was over, several people told us about it Each one gave a difPirent version, in minor details, of the fire, thouj^h all were there together." Mr. York made no repl^^ "One said the fire was caused by one thing, another by another," continued Waldo. "One said it broke out in one place, one said at another. They did not at all agree in their version ; but it did not occur to me to doubt that the tire had taken place, on that account. The amazing thing is that the Gospels abso- lutely agree in the main parts, though written by four different men." "Goon." Mr. York had glanced furtively at Fan. He was not uneasy. "Another proof of the divine inspiration of the New Testament is that the Apostles easily convinced many. But my main argument is that too much is not claimed. Everybody who saw miracles was not con- vinced. And at the Cross — supreme moment — only two are said to have been converted, the thief and the centurion ; the first in heart, the last in reason. ' Lord, remember me!' was a prayer. * Surely this was the Son of God ! ' was merely the mind's con- sent to a fact." "Ah! I've seen the great pictures, 'Christ befox'O 8 114 WALDO. ■ I 11 Pilate,' and the ' Crucilixion,' that so many thousands have looked upon. Well ? " " Shouldn't you have thouj^jl.t they would have run to Him — those people who saw His miracles? Shouldn't you have thought they would all have believed and loved Him ? They did not. The sceptics think they are getting up something new ; but they are not. What other book ever told man tuhat his own heart tells him, that he is guilty, and that he is immortal, that he must be delivered from guilt, or his immortality will be insupportable ? " " What need of a Christ at all ? " Waldo took his uncle's questions and let God answer them by His own great acts. " God waited four thousand years, as if to give man the opportunity to climb heavenward without a Christ. God Himself has proved what the sceptics ask. He proved that man, in the midst of the highest culture (remember the Greeks, and the broken rrarbles dug out of the earth for modern palaces), in the midst of growing cities, great armies, the law, the prophets; with it all, man went backward, not forward ! So that when Christ came the world could go on no longer in its spiritual ruin and darkness. The world had its Jewish Church, its established rulers, its moral men, and yet had reached iniquity's exquisite ex- WALDO. 115 tremity. A Herod wore the purple. The Jews had killed their prophets. Socrates had been poisoned for wishing to teach the youth of Athens. Above the expiring light a star arose, and, moved by the finger of God, pointed a Helper for the world. The star is so small as to be almost sinister to the UnitariariS. They laugh at this small signal — a March star. Some poor ignoramus made up, dreamed the whole august vision, they tell us, kindly. Why, sir, Christ gave us one commandment which has lifted man more than all the common laws combined with all the philosophy of the sages : ' A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another.' " His voice sank to tenderness. His uncle, though armed with defiant scepticism, was conscious of an unusual interest and expectation ; but there was Fan ! A sneer curved his lips. " Go, Fan! " said he, "go child ; you are tired. You are listening; but it is possible that your thoughts are elsewhere — with the Doctor, for instance." " No, uncle.' When Waldo got in earnest, he was very much in earnest indeed, excited, in fact. "The New Testament," said he, "stands out in authenticity better than the classical writings of antiquity. Why don't the infidels question the li 116 WALDO. orations of Cicero, and the histories of Polybius and Livy ? How do we know that we have the veritable 'Iliad' and 'Odyssey'? Bentley says, in speaking of the Gospels, ' Even put them into the hands of a knave or fool, and yet, with the most sinistrous and absurd choice, he shall not extinguish the light of one chapter, nor so disguise Christianity, but that every feature of it will be the same.' " "Even the devil," said Mr. York, "and his character- tics have always interested me. Milton drew a rather magnificent Satan, to tell the truth. I should really like to meet him in some of my travels ; but he is about as real as your other phenomena. Come, it is too late for further discussion. Let's go to bed." Fan was eitner tired, or indifferent, or sleepy. Waldo could not tell which. 1 ; fiY ■ i ■ 1! ■ » I CHAPTER XV. "T)ERHAPS if I too could pray, it would ease my ^ burdened heart ! " These words fell from the lips of Fan, stealing through the twilight, as day came to its close. She sat by the window wrapped in a shawl, looking at the stars coming out by the million. " But there is no God," she murmured ; " at least, none such as Waldo preaches and prays to certainly. There can't be. such a Christ as the Bible pretends to reveal. How often has my intellect declared this to me! And yet I can't get rid of questionings and wonderings. It was settled long ago that the Chris- tians were mistaken. Why do Waldo's words haunt me ? Oh, can the dead feel ? Dawns any sunbeam on the night of dissolution ? Waldo believes it all, and lives up to what he believes. And it is such a joy to him. If he thinks of death, it 11 with peace, t l\S WALDO. yes, happiness ; while I am so afrai'l and wretched. I find that in tlie midst of plenty I have n()thinl,^ And uncle — has he not always pleased himself ? Yet what a life ! He hides his keen disappointments, but they rankle. He used to seem greater to me than he does now." She bowed her head and wept, with her clasped hands pressed over her heart. Her uncle must be right. He always knew so well what he was about. The sarcastic, bitter, intellectual face had become as an oracle to her. Her uncle had been exceedingly generous toward her, and she knew he was ver}' fond of her, though he had never men- tioned it. She had seen him growing year by year stiller, graver, colder, sadder. " I am a sev^ere, sarcastic, disagreeable creature," he had once said to her, "but so is truth. Truth is seldom young, beautiful and joyous. It is just the reverse. And all that about 'Infinite Time,' and ' infinite space,' fundamental conceptions." She had asked, when she was younger, about these phrases, and he had said, " I don't quite understand, child. There is much we cannot understand. But I am sure it must be as we think. Darwin and Hegel have looked into it" WALDO. 119 And Heijjel trusted that somehodv else had looked into it, no doubt. Thus tossed on the dead sea of unbelief, Fan, in darkness and despair handled those questions which Waldo !iad settled at ten years of age, and settled finally, for hj 'lad j^one to Him who alone has said : "If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God." " Lor'/' said black Regina, who nightly combed out Fan's rich, wavy hair, "you an' yo' brother don't favor none. Seems like you air kinder disapDointed in each other — both on you." Alah' ■ the most ignorant, humble hand can inflict a sting. While Fan slept that night, dreaming not of heaven, hut of the things of time, in another part of the house by a high window, a tall, motionless figure stood, dimly outlined, and through the silence Waldo's pray- ers went forth into the night, up to the throne. Tenderly he drew from his pocket an old locket, and Fan's dimpled face smiled back. Oh, to see it shine on him like that again. " I'se dot Waldo's hand," she used to say proudly. Now— - A tear fell on the cold, englassed fac3. Now she only saw him as a ranting talke.**, as safe '-./i 120 WALDO. ni A im 1 to trust for guidance as a will-o'-the-wisp. Lost were the loving eyes, loving lips, loving heart of beautiful little Fan. "V»'s can endure death. It is noc the saddest parting. Quit of this weary world — sheltered in heaven — oh, Fan, I can but wish we were all there." He had thought she would be glad to rest her tired soul in his arms and hear all he had to say. Oh, if she might be saved at last. Never mind the slights. Never mind the pangs. Only to have her with him when the fitful fever of life was over. She was more beautiful than the picture now ; but love is so much dearer than beauty. To his warm, loyal heart he pressed the cold and senseless thing, then, holding it up, he whispered in a deep voice : " ' My Jesus — as Thou wilt, Oh, let my will be Thine.' " Lord, I am not lowly — only heavy-laden. I am not Christ-like, only struggling up. Make me as one of Thine hired servants. Only use me, oh, use me for Thy glory." A voice from within seemed to sing sweetly to him as he sank to rest. •' At the river's crystal brink, Some sweet day, by-and-by, We shall find each broken link, Some sweet day, by-and-by." WALDO. 121 The early breakfast was over, and brother and sister walked out to enjoy the pleasant air. Fan knew that she was fair ; it could not be other- wise; but she cared little now for the marvellous love- liness of that sad face of hers. " You have been to Germany, Fan ? " said Waldo. " Yes, several times. I think we've been nearly everywhere." " A beautiful spot this." " Everybody says so." She slightly turned her graceful head. " You play, sing, and have many resources against ennui." " My uncle has arranged for many, whatever their efficacy may be." He drew from his pocket a picture. " Do you know this ? " She laughed musically, heartily. " Oh, dear ! what an odd little girl I was. But then I am odd now. Am I like you expected me to be ? " " No, Fan." There was a slight trembling of his lip. " You are far more beautiful. Do you know, Fan, the Bible says of man, * He cometh up as a flower and is cut down ? ' Your beauty will fade ; what then ? " U\ I m !i rlli 122 WALDO. "There's the mind, Waldo; that should grow brighter. Uncle is very intelligent. You ought to appreci .te that" " I do. Real ignorance I almost fear. But there is somethinor worse. Even ijjnorance is not so dense a thing as impudence ! The impudence of intellect is about to do more harm than all the ignorance the earth ever saw. I know that the new religion is a farrago of a hundred incompatible ideas, about as applicable to God's ordinances, as buckets to the emptiness of an ocean. I confess I am not deep enough to know what they mean. Their speech is a fine sounding polj'glot of uncertain interpretation. They are anxious to ^jive us a new religion. That soothinnj occupation of taking immense trouble to produce what neither they nor any one else wants, is the final resource of manv a subtle, humane scholar ! Thev fill up their books with a kind of twaddle that is neither here nor there, all to prove that a man may be inconceivably wretched and irremediably helpless — if he wants to be. I'll keep a little happiness, if you please." Fan smiled. "To be sure," said Waldo, sarcastically, "what would the world be without its infidelity? How many humane institutions, homes for the poor, hospitals, ^ WALDO. 123 orphan asylums there used to be before this objection- able, unneeded Christianity and these cruel doctrines of ours appeared ? Why, you know, Fan, there never was one of these heard of before the Christian religion came. " Search history for it. I almost laughed myself to scorn at first, to think of turning preacher, but I have made up my mind not to be half preacher and half doubter, part sanctified and part traitor. They tell me I can't revolutionize the world. Well, the world sha lot revolutionize me. With the heart man belie veth unto righteousness. Reasoning follows love, Fan. It does not precede it. Those men who love knowledge more than holiness will never find both." There was a long and dreadful silence. Waldo was beseeching God not to let them drift apart. He looked at her, jhe was dull, sad. And she miofht be a happy pilgrim to the beti>er land for the simple asking I He took her hand tenderly. Ah, how ofentle and forbearinof we are when we have been with Jesus. "Do I offend, or may I go on?" his eyes seemed to ask. Fan found this talk tedious, and listened with flag- ging attention. They walked together through the old churchyard, he reading aloud the promises of resurrec- tion on the tombstones. 124 WALDO. ml 1 ''j 1 n ■i r: m' 111 " And my uncle would erase all these ! and write here simply, ' The end ! ' Those two words seemed written upon his heart. Oh, sister ! " Waldo's voice trembled as if the word brought with it the conviction that he was not welcome to her with his ' news.' He spoke the word with an effort like one he was unaccus- tomed to. " Sister, can you contentedly face the future even in this life ? And how can you contemplate the life after death ? " " Contentment is a rare thing, Waldo , but, at least, I shall try not to complain," she said. " Fan ! Let me know your heart, and whether you think it possible to be happy or not. I think I can promise that you shall be. This is the key to the kingdom of heaven ! " he said, drawing from his pocket a small Testament. Fan walked beside him slowly, her eyes fixed on the path. " I do wish," she said, but in a hopeless tone, " to lead a different life ; not to waste my best years in rounds of frivolity. I have had what is called a good educa- tion, and I do not wish to be good for nothing but to laugh in a chorus. Oh, the ambition to do some heroic thing has always burned in my heart ! But I don't—" She paused, and raised her eyes to her brother's face. WALDO. 125 And this was Waldo, wicked, cursing little Waldo ! She could remember his youthful oaths loud and bold. This soldier of duty, this grand young theologian, placed in his childhood at the very centre oi a ration- alistic struggle, yet never swept from his anchorage of faith, was the same — only, Christ had entered his life! Who could have imagined it would make such a differ- ence ? But it was all excitement, and would die out, as her uncle said ! And it was a blessing. Under all her sadness, a sort of satisfaction in being like the wise infidels had flooded her young heart like a touch of madness. " We shall never think alike, Waldo," she said decidedly. Her eyelids trembled an instant, but there was no concession in the blue depths of her eyes, as she said, " I appreciate, Waldo, your interest in me ; I am glad you have this happiness you wish me to seek. Believe me, I would not take it from you, and I know I could not. But I am sincere in my doubt. Let us return now." When she entered the house she began a brilliant overture on the piano, and soon after Dr. Roland was announced. Ah, she had lovers, she did not need him — her brother ! 126 WALDO. '1: 11 The Doctor evidently admired Fan. Waldo looked at hiin and turned sick, sick at heart, sick with de- spair. Yes, the Doctor was handsome — terribly, bril- liantly, though ruggedly, handsome. His voice was deep and musical, his eyes were like stars of light. Fan worshipped the beautiful, the majestic in all things — and he must leave his sister with this man 1 What power had Waldo against so powerful a cham- pion? " Let not your heart be troubled." With these words, that distilled like dew on the grass by night, did he comfort himself. m t |!1 1^ ill! wu ' I! CHAPTER XVI. DR. ROLAND'S grand, rugged, grim face and hand- some artist-eyes were clouded. He ar se from his chair by the piano as Waldo left the room. " You are losing interest in music ! " he remarked. " I am afraid so," replied Fan, standing near him after rising from the piano. " Fan, you know that I think you gifted. From the moment I first heard you play — you were then fourteen — you have been as my own child to me — my heart's child. I am annoyed by the change in you ! " " Can it be some silly love affair ? " he muttered to himself. " Who would have thought it, such a girl as she is ? " He began to tease her with his grim satire. "You have lost your heart. You don't sleep at night," he said. " Do you ? " she asked. 128 WALDO. .,T rap " With me it is different ! " he answered. " For me long winter nighJ:s have a peculiar fascination. Summer evenings are nothing to them. Do you know there is nothing I like better than to put on my hat on a sharp, frosty December night and walk ? " " You are like Dickens. I hope you don't walk thirty miles a night ? " " No ; I have my favorite haunts. I like to be alone when I am sentimental." Fan laughed. " Once more ! " he said. " I thought you had for- gotten how to smile. Your nature is pitched in a minor key. We have to fight pretty hard for mirth, so don't give up to the blues, or I don't know what would happen. Speaking of night, I imagine that Milton wrote his great poem at night, and even your brother probably writes his sermons after daylight has gone." " Even ! " " Now, Fan, listen to me. You will be dead in a year if you go on at this rate. Fever, sleeplessness, no appetite, no exercise ! Stupid, brooding, madden- ing thoughts ! " " If I only could do something. I do nothing, but am always tired," she exclaimed. " Oh, when can I turn ? " WALDO. 129 He raised his hand to his heart, ^i^azini^ at her wist- fully, but she was not lookinof ; and in an instant he was as unsentimental as ever. She had cast herself on a chair, and was trying not to sob. " When ? " he said. " Not to this young brother of yours. He has nothing but a dreaui to offer you — a delusion ! " " She bent toward him. " You have tried it all ! " j:he whispered. " What is there in the world to make life worth livingr ? " " I have not found it," said the Doctor. " I am a physician for the physical life ; but you women want a physician for your souls. There is none." He arose to his feet. " Fan ! " The Doctor's voice sank. "I am what they call eccentric. They'll tell you I believe nothing, love nothing ; and am, of course, no suitable husband for a beautiful, romantic young girl. I've never seen a woman who could hold me bound like Sampson till now. Singularly enough, your bitter sadness endears you more to me than ever. Fan — Fan! I don't promise anything; but old and hard as I seem, I'd love you till death stopped my breath, if vou would come to me ! Dare vou do it ? " 9 ir 130 WALDO. At this moment Waldo entered to bid his sister good-bye. "Ah, Mr. Waldo," said Dr. Roland, with his usual lethargy and his sarcastic glance, " I have rescued your sister from an acute attack of philosophical despair. Yes. The immediate cause of her indigestion was her inability to understand evolution, pure and simple." Dr. Roland tossed back his long, black hair. His father \vas a Russian, but he was English-bred. " Your sister was pining to do something for some- one ! Thought that was, after all, the secret of happi- ness. She will find peace, she thinks. Peace ? There is no such thing. You will find its symbol in the ships at sunset, in the beams of an early morn ; but it remains a delusion." Waldo's strong, well-shaped lips set themselves. They curved like a bow bent for shooting. His eye? flashed into the Doctor's. " Did you ever go to a patient who had an acute pain and tell him, to his face, that it was a delusion ? that his consciousness of pain did not give you suf- ficient evidence ? This peace exists ! " said Waldo. " I feel it in my heart." " I can remember the time," said the Doctor, " when I used to go to church and Sunday-school, and the sunshine fell warmly on the name of ' Jesus,' made in Ife WALDO. 131 evergreens upon the wall at Christmas time. I used to sing — can you believe it, Fan ? — with great gusto : ' Oh, come, angel band I ' I neglected arithmetic and geography seriously for a long' time, to go and sing those tunes. They could not stand the acid of criticism. Mystery ? " " Nature is a mystery ! " said Waldo. " We know no more of the essentials of light and electricity than was known at first, when light broke over Eden from a newly created sun. But no man has ever declared that, because we cannot understand these things, we had better not use them ! In Munich there is, over a grave, a monument. It represents a mother taking leave of her son, who would fain retain her. But she points to a little babe at her feet. That woman is the Past, to my mind. The mother is leaving ; but she leaves the babe, the King. The Mosaic law fleeing before the Christian dispensation ! Mighty ethics put to flight by the hand of a Babe ! Why, the greatest universities are Christianized. How many men, intel- ligent, mature men, rest now in the belief that God is with them ? This is their hope, but it is a hope that has kept their hearts afire and glad on many a lonely midnight. It has saved some from madness, hundreds from despair. It pacifies the conscience, shoots beams wm l.?2 WALDO. '^'!r 1 ■ 1 1 KHI|| :! , of hope into the most desolate lives, makes existence bearable to countless numbers to-day." " Moonshine ! nothiner but moonshine ! " And this was his sister's lover ! One associates sighs, dreaminess, stolen looks, hollow cheeks, with a lover. Was this almost middle-aujed sceptic really his sister's lover? Dr. Roland had a look of great honesty and sense as he leaned back, and looked at the two smilingly. But did she care for him ? Did she love him ? " You see, Waldo, she found the world to be hollow and barren," said the Doctor, looking banteringly at Fan, " life so very void — " Fan blushed. " So I have decided what was the orreatest ffood to the smallest number. Now, sir, I hope you are not going to come upsetting everything in your course, trampling rough-shod over our little romance ! " Dr. Koland had a very kind and loving heart hidden away in his big, proud bosom. Waldo knew this, and he determined to be just and honest first of all. He saw that nothing escaped the lover's eyes ; that he saw his (Waldo's) pain, and the smile that kept wavering about Fan's lips, the heave of her white neck when she looked at her brother, the throb in his throat as he looked back at her. WALDO. 183 Waldo arose and went to the Doctor. " Sir, I wish you happiness," he said. Then he turned to his sister. " And you ; may the blessing of God — " He could get no further. He bade her a hurried good-bye, and was gone. Waldo's spiritual separation from his sister was the greatest grief he had ever known. Around him, as he walked away, alone, the great trees moaned in the wind. He had never dreamed that he would find it impossible to reach her heart and influence it — to awaken the old, sweet love. " God ! " he exclaimed, in anguish, " must this be, indeed, the end of years of prayer and hope ? My longing to lead her to the truth must be right. Thou would'st have her walk in the heavenly paths of faith« Oh, take her from those broad, inviting ways that lead to gloom and unrest, and the second death ! Put her on a narrow, thorny path, if it will lead her to peace. I have found her, but she is no longer mine. She abhors me as a bigot." He leaned his head against a tree near, and looked toward the house. " But, Lord God ! I will believe Thy promises. 'Thou wilt guide me by Thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory.' > » 134 WALDO. li »l|l H His faith was strong in God as he recalled a favorite passage, " Delight thyself in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart." Perhaps God had a great blessing in store for him, in the conveidion of them all ! For what God has promised He is able also to perform. Fan, with her infidel nncle and her infidel husband, might yet soften and melt under the warm rays of the Sun of Ki^-hteousness. It is written, "They shall praise Thee that seek Thee." Foxy had a great deal to think about after Waldo was gone. He had to think of Waldo. He could not help it. If he told a story — it was no harm to tell old Joins a story — Waldo instantly popped into his head. If he cursed, he seemed to see Waldo's eyes looking earnestly at him. He began to know there was some- thing about his cousin to be honored and trusted in. He had a great deal to think about in association with seeing the brother and sister together once ; Waldo with a face so gracious and merciful, that it seemed as if a light ought to be above it, like a picture he had seen of One standing on a hill and pointing upward. He had to think of all Waldo had told him, and wonder, and wonder if it was true. CHAPTER XVII. IN her brilliantly-lic^hted room Fan sat alone. She -*■ had locked herself in ; but she had not been say- ing her prayers. Never had a prayer passed her lips. Open before her was a substantially-bound volume by Strauss. From this precious volume she v^as not to-night, however, extracting sceptical sayings. She was simply writing in her diary upon it. " Evening, nine o'clock. — Well, he has come and gone, my brother Waldo. The first moment I saw him I felt a curir as thrill shootinor throuffh me. I confronted a young man in the dress of an ecclesiastic. His smile — a singularly fascinating one — giving an expression of exceeding youth and graciousness to his face, told me it was Waldo. This polished, high-bred priest kissed me and called me * Darling sister ! ' but I wondered how I should ever talk and laugh with him as a brother. For 1 marked well the stern power of his face. Somehow I felt stunned — reserved. This seemed to greatly atlect him. The lines on his manly 136 WALDO. face deepened, and a slight, ashy pallor flickered over his brow and eyelids. But I saw in him only tlte preacher, and was dumb. We do not think alike. Oh, which is right ? Uncle took my education into his own hands. He intends me to inheiit his money with Foxy, like brother and sister. He considers that he has given me the education of a scholar. ' She knows,' he says of me, ' \v4iat to do, and if she steps into any pitfalls, it w'll be with her eyes open.' . . . I am engaged to be married. The Doctor says I am his heaven and earth, and he asks no more of either. What a speech for my proud old darling to make ! " So far this fine girl had made a failure of life, and she knew it, though she had just formed a noble marriafje eno^afjement. The ijolden bowl of bliss, love given and returned, was at her lips. Her uncle's Agnosticism, with which she had wrestled, had got the better of her. As she sat there she was thinking of her costly education, of her uncle's promise that quiet would come to her heart in time, that there were only reason and waiting needed. But her unrest hung on with the grip of the immortals ; and she found it difficult to sustain life, while she waited and waited for a quiet heart. She was at bay. At first, with Waldo, she had felt a strange, sweet hope. Peace had seeme<] so near, that it was like the WALDO. 137 pain of death to give up the glimmer of its promise. But her mind receded from the Unseen, and again settled itself 'ipon the nettles of facts ; though she found again that the pleasures of the world do not avail. Her iincle had reared the great scaffolding of an elaborate materialism that he mijjht erect the colossal edifice of two or three facts. There was the structure, fine, no doubt, but wasted on Fan ! There was a loud knock at the door. Mr. York entered. " A letter from Waldo ! " he said. " But, Fan, make up your mind that you won't go down with him. Stand on the lofty planes of reason ! I know what you are undergoing. Give over these alternatives of hope and despair." She opened Waldo's letter ; and he, glancing over her shoulder, said: "Permit me." Then they read on tofjether. "Ardent!" said Mr. York, "very ardent. How unlike you are. Fan ! You fair and cynical ; he a sun- burnt Saxon, with all an Italian's fire. He don't notice what I said. He preaches and preaches." She felt like saying, " My brother is the most sincere man I ever saw," but she forbore. " He is a handsome youth," said her uncle, slight- ingly ; " and, no doubt, a good youth." 1S8 WALDO. 'iff' rilii; t' ''■ I " Good ? There is not a trace of guilt or fear on his face." " While I have both, you think ? I knew you would be so ; but you won't, surely — " " No. I shall never go over to him ; but it will break his heart. I know what I am saying. And though I can never think as he does, I know it will break his heart. ' Fan's all the sister I've got,' he used to say. Oh, common, sense is too inexorable. * Under- stand ? ' Why, sir, you do not understand this world — the cjround beneath our feet. You cannot under- stand that magnificent waste of stars above ; for this world does not need them, and they are wasted ! " He smiled. " From pebble to planet, from stone to star, from mind to mind, one chain of evolution runs, and the last link in that chain is always the offspring of the former." She roused now. " Man, who talk of liberty ? Darwin is your master. You are vowed to him as a monk to his pope. I tell you if there is such a thing as grand sacrificial faith, we are too self-centred, gross, obtuse and worldly-minded to hear the rustle of its wmgs. Yes. The young, love-thirsty heart was turning from his cold and dreary one. " Fan ! " WALDO. 139 " Let me tell you ; I have lived with you, studied you. I have believed in you ; but, oh, now I must have something more. Waldo seems to have found something more than a continual round of eating and drinking. Only think, he quotes the Bible, as if he gloried in the very sound of the words and likes to dwell on them ! " Oh, if she could feel her fears and disgusts flying up into the sky and away from her on the wings of prayer as Waldo's seemed to do ! " He says he has help ; that it does not originate with himself ; it cannot come from beneath ; it descends from above." " See here. Fan ! " said her uncle, turning a shade paler, " I don't want Waldo to air his sanctified notions where I am, or among those with me. You are blest with a ' pious ' brother, and he's got a mission, and all that sort of thing." "Everything wounds and distresses me. Every- thing ! " she said, clasping her hands as her uncle left her. " I am young and absolutely miserable. Youth, that has no to-morrow nor yesterday — that youth will never be mine." Something in her brother's look at their parting had affected her deeply, and that night when she retired, she tossed upon her bed. ii\ ■4 I ■s* ^ ! 140 WALDO. •' But I have done nothing wrong ! " she kept saying. " I try to do my duty. No ; I have done no wrong." It had dawned upon her that she had wounded Waldo, and she undertook the task of pardoning her- self, and could not do it. This self-pardon is the hardest thing in life to get. God's pardon, a friend's pardon, are possible, but one's own pardon ! Was it ever obtained ? Within the stable the next morning, a pair of beautiful horses submitted themselves to the currying of Joins. On a stump just outside the door, the overseer of it all, the heir of the fair inheritance, Foxy, sat and talked. Joins' ha^rsrard but erect form moved slowly. No hat adorned his tangled locks of iron-gray, and his surly words were for the most part addressed to the horses. " This cousin Waldo of mine," Foxy was saying, " has been called to preach by that great Being who created and keeps the whole world." Joins stared. " This great God, Joins, comes to him in some way or other, invisibly, and fills his mind with sweet delight — " " Bah ! " " And my cousin hardly cares for anything except to please Him. My cousin expects after awhile to be WALDO. 141 received up where He is ; to be taken up out of the world, you understand, Joins, and carried into heaven. Then, my cousin is to dwell with Him, and be happy with Him forever. Therefore, Joins, if you would present all the world before him, with the greatest of its riches, he would disregard it, and care nothingr for it; and he is willing to bear any pain and affliction. He has a strange sweetness in his mind, is just, con- siderate, and conscientious to a hair's breadth ; and you could not persuade him to do anything wicked if you would give him all the world, for fear, yes, for fear of offending God ! " " I ain't agoin' to persuade the young man into no wickedness, Foxy ! " said Joins, " I ben't — " " I know. You don't understand me." "An' so the Great Bein', He mus' just take me as He finds me ! Thouofh I don't believe in them things. I wants fac's." " But you know you'll be dead some day, Joins ! " " Yes, sir. As dead as that mole." He pointed to a defunct object, a mole, over which his dog. Redd, was rejoicing triumphantly. "An' I'll lay just as he does — a little bit o* dust." Mr. York, passing, smiled. He was beginning to feel out of sorts a little. Nobody suited him. Waldo was a fanatic, and Foxy admired him. Fan was dis- 142 WALDO. ■L I !*!i contented and aggravating. He realized what a grievous thing it was that he should have to be any- body's uncle. " I am mistaken if I am to turn things topsy-turvy for a slip of a lad like Waldo ! " he said. Then he launched. " Fan don't know anv more than I do what to do when there are preachers on the premises. I never realized you had a brother," he said to her as she entered the front-room just as he did. " He is very real, though," said Fan. "But he came too late !" said Mr. York in a trium- phant tone. And Fan began to think of him as " Poor Waldo." Their uncle could see a vague family likeness be- tween brother and sister. But they were stranirers to each other. Separation in fact, in thought, in manner of life could divide almost like death. Waldo's air seemed to say he would defy the world to keep them apart, but apart they were. " I must know her better," Waldo would say ; " I must get acquainted with my sister." Mr. York, looking at his niece, thought, " No won- der you are cold and sad and reserved. All these years you have been waiting for what ? To be found fault with ? " He was glad to see the coldness in her eyes. His own eyes, which for brilliance and cold- WALDO. 143 ness, could not well be surpassed, intensiiied in ex- pression as they beheld a hardness growing over the velvet depths of Fan's when she looked at her preacher brother. They had met — for what ? To discover family points of likeness between them and rejoice, or to fight their differences of opinion. Waldo only saw Fan occasionally. His uncle was not unkind, though he opposed his views. He always left Fan with a feeling of uncer- tainty as to whether she cared for him or not. For sometimes it seemed that she did, on the few occasions when she kissed him and called him " brother." Then again he told himself that she did not love him, that she wished her brother to be a brilliant society man, not an humble preacher. The world did not make her happy, but she still clung to it madly ; and when Waldo saw her bedecked in the diamonds her uncle had given her, he almost wished that she was poor, even homely. He imagined her coming to him and saying: "Waldo, I am destitute. All is lost. We have nothinor to turn ij but each other and heaven." " Oh, how^ happy I should be," he said. She had no wish to see him a good map in a religi- ous sense. She had been taught to honor the free, unlimited liberty of thought, scepticism, and to de- spise "credulity," and lest any one should imagine her 144 WALDO. weak enouf^h to be impressed by Waldo's views, she tried to be (;ay. No one expected Mr, York to go to church, even to hear his nephew preach. He might have been seen on Sunday with polished books, resting under a tree, with a cynical gaze at things in general, but especially at the distant church. Foxy's old nurse would not let him rest in the house, she sighed so constantly. " What, in the name of reason, is all this sighing about ? " he asked at last. "Ah, sah, it's Foxy. Foxy," she said. "He's lost his pleasures. He has lost as many as five hundred hopes, I suppose, judgin' by the hopes his own cousin's got. He's lost bein' a tine, manly preacher. He's lost — ' " Heavens, you'll drive me mad, woman," said Mr. York. '* Can't you learn any sense ? " " Death is a solium sound," said Foxy's nurse. " An' so I wants to go to church to turn — sinner turn !" And she went, and heard Waldo preach. Yes, and she faintly understood — poor old black Regina, that the clouds and waves were saying something, like Waldo said of a time when she would be better off > no longer dull, stupid, and good for nothing but to be laughed at. To Fan, the day of wrath, of which Waldo had been WALDO. 1 4.5 speak in j^", louined so bi^ and near that her now pro- ])hetic vye could catch in fancy the vivid h'ght of it; lier ear could hear the sound of the clods as the i^raves should open, her imagination even pictured the size of the niiojhty Ga})riel. Mr. York was sittin^^ under a tree smoking when Wahh) returned from church. As he looked upon his nephew's grave and honorable face, a pang smote his heart. Why was he so sad ? The same day was bright to one, dull to the other. " Oh, it is because everything is so stale," he said. " The world is so (1 ary. Pain and bitterness in the autumn wind, and floods of piteous tears dropping everywhere. My heart was so desolate last night that I could have wept iny life away. And then the terrible insistance of thought and memory till one could wish he was made of stone. Ah, Waldo need not smile. The arrows are beginning to fly at his hopeful heart. He has begun to drink life's bitter draught. Ah, he will be like me; and yet, one cannot possibb think of him as giving up. Some secret, powerful force seems to impel him forward. His hopes are like strong hands to lift him up. Will doubt snap the mystic thread, and leave him to falter through manhood's decline? He has a very positive mind. It would be easy for him to im- pose his will upon others." 10 If 146 WALDO. il' :| 'ii I Then he felt a desire to kill the rosy, passionate light of what he called fanaticism in his nephew's face, and place him, tearless but wretched, in the hard day- light of so-callod reason. As Waldo approached, he said, " I am more than ever convinced that your system is a failure. Do you suppose that by such m«^etings as you have had to-day the world will be saved :* " " Yes, uncle. * The foolishness of preachinn^,' under God's blessinj^, will do it. Wait, my dear sir, till you have seen some of its fruits — watched a good man die, as I have. Wait till you have seen a soul sf*,ved fr^^m death." Waldo, in a kind of trance which seemed to lift him above the earth, stood still, his strange face solemn and wrapt. Presently he caught his uncle by the arm. " My dear sir, let me — listen to me, though I am so much the younr ' my heart aches for you." The ster^ of Mr. York did not sol'ten. He prepared 1 . nat was coming, as one prepares for a storm against which he has set his face. B'lt it was the younger man that became commanding and mag- netic. The younger spirit seemed to sweep down upon the older in a torrent of tenderness. Words warm from Waldo's heaven-touched heart seemed to dash themselves in pieces against this rock-like man. WALDO. 147 '* It seems so strange to me, so pathetic," said Waldo, "that any one should care so much to destroy the faith of otliers." " We don't like to see them so deluded," said Mr. York. " Well, has the truth that you profess to have found made you better — happier ? " " Of course, or else I should acknowledge. ' 'Tis folly to be wise.'" And yet there were the restless dark eyes that cried, "dissatisfaction!" There were the small, wrinkled, unwork-worn hands that said the same. There was the slow, languid gait that announced the same. It angered Mr. York to see that Waldo knew this, and he said : " You have only been rehearsing old sayings in an impetuous manner. Youths are always hot and unreasoning: in their ideas." " I would give a great deal," said Waldo, if you could have seen Uncle John die. It was well with him ; he was an honest man." "To what, sir, do you attribute the fact that he was happy in the swellings of the dark river ; that he heard tones of surpassing sweetness ? " '"Waldo, am I dying?' he asked. I said I feared so, ' I am so glad,' he said, gently." 148 WALDO. i'l !ii' '' Rant ! the outpourings of mere delirium ; enthu- siasm ; delusion ! A fit of mental aberration I " " Redeemer of the world ! " said Waldo softly, look- in<^ up, "vouchsafe to me when I die — when this mortal soul parts from this body to meet its God — oh, vouch- safe to me such a delusion ! " Mr. York smiled, shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. Jaily Fan expected to see the " down look " upon ^Valdo's face, but it never came. Strength on strength seemed poured into his heart from some hidden source. CHAPTER XVITL ATT" HAT a night it was ! Nothinor but stars over- ' ^ head — below mirth, music and laughter. Mr. York was giving his niece a party. The parlors were now tilling rapidly. Fan was with her friend, Elsie Carmen, selecting some music, when Waldo entered. Elsie saw a orentle- man who approached Fan and took her hand, with a tender glance and a tone of inquiry. He was tall, easy, unconscious of himself. His grave eyes expressed calm and keen observation. She felt that his mental atmosphere must be clear and bracing. " Let me intro- duce you to my brother, the Rev. Mr. York," said Fan, turning mischievously toward Elsie. " This is Miss Carmen, Waldo." For an instant Elsie could not conceal her astonish- ment, the sight of that tall, keen-eyed man, with short, red, independent looking hsi,ir, and a most remarkable s- f! i' I I!*' I I' M ;« !iii ! 150 WALDO. ' cduntenance. Slie t'ult herself blush with vexation tli(; : ■ next moment. For the first time in her life she felt awkward. '} " That uncle of yours has, somehow, managed to give me a wrong impression of you, Mr. York," said she, arranging her beautiful skirts as she sat down, her bright eyes raised and beaming. Waldo was about to reply, but was called away by his uncle to be intro- duced to a stranger gentleman, and Elsie hurried to Fan and her companion, Dr. Roland, who made a play- l ful remark about Waldo. t ' '■ Were you not speaking of Fan's brother ?" asked Elsie of the ])octor. " I suppose he belongs to a sect of which you do not approve — though he certainly seems free from fogs of sentiment." " I ? No. I am not bound to entertain all of Waldo's views. I think him one of the finest fellows in the world ; but I shouldn't like to ruin the natural sweet- ness of my disposition by getting up to six o'clock family prayers! Waldo is the only man I know who is a real believer. He gets five hundred a year, and is content with poor clothes and food that he may give to the poor. He has one room somewhere, I believe, and can scarcely afibrd himself a new book, yet he'll tell you, with a light in his face, that he has always had plenty. Never lacked. Been taken care of. i;i. WALDO. 151 Then that is very tine of him, takiii*^- care of poor Hill, a cousin, who shot a friend by accident, and nearly went mad. He pays his board regularly. What Waldo ever saw in Hilary that he should do so much for him, I can't see ; for he has not reclaimed him." " How noble ! " said Elsie, who listened with keen interest. " I never knew any one so unselhsh. I sup- pose it is a part of his creed." " One appreciates that sort of thing all. the more in Waldo, because he is not an old man, but young, and thrilling with dreams and ambitions." But Waldo's ambition was to do good. He heeded the admonition, " Cast thy bread upon the waters ; thou shalt find it after many days." That very day he had received a letter fropi Hilary which greatly astonished him. It ran : " Dear Waldo, — I went to the town of B — — with some wild companions a week ago, some friends, who played the joke of putting me up to preach. I played the Rev. Mr. York — yourself, as we are both of the same name, Waldo ! — I got up in the pulpit to preach, for a joke. I had a sermon written out — something of yours, I believe — and my friends, secretly convulsed with laughter, listened. While carrying out this ter- rible joke, I was convicted of sin, and have since been converted. 1 could almost see your guileless face as I saw it one morning years ago — as it has haunted me ifl si?' in. 152 WALDO. ^ ; ) It 1 n m since — when A'onr relii/ion became vonr life, and v li I' I'^i 154 WALDO. If :•. » 1 work, and could not say that it was <,'ood. Tlie tiny French clock within ticked away the hours. A young lady sat at the piano i)laying some brilliant music. " I suppose that piece is very difficult," said the Doctor to Elsie. " I am like Dr. Johnson ; I only wish it had been impossible !" Fan never in her life looked more dazzling. She left her uncle and sought her brother. She found him on the balcony, lookini;^ out at the star-lit night. He had not known of the entertainment be- fore his arrival, but they would not let him leave. Yes, he was thinking of that better world above. Ah, the thought of it, as the pleasure-seekers whirled past him that quiet night ! After the darkness, the light; after fighting, peace; after faithful work, a crown ; after the heart-break, the welcome home. He was a discord here ; he was like nobody around him. He had nothing in harmony with his uncle or Fan. "Now, Waldo ! " said his graceful sister, laying a fair hand on his arui, " is this being sociable ? I hunt for you, and find you out here star-gazing." Waldo turned and faced her, and his eyes bright- ened. Her sheeny robes and lovely face made such a picture. Was it that she was conscious of the cold- m WALDO. 155 ncss oF her t^reeting, and was anxious t<^ atoiie for tliat^ "1 be<^ your pardon, Fan. 1 am in no mood for gaiety to-nig-lit; but to look at you, one would suppose there was no need of my aid to eidiven the entertain- ment." " My uncle thinks me very gloomy," said Fan. " Come, talk. You can say what you please, only help me to entertain the company." They souglit the lighted parlors together. " What can I do for you, sir ? " the gay voice of Elsie Carmen demanded of Mr. York, as he sat alone. " 1 am past being comforted, Elsie. Just look at Foxy, will you — taking every step Waldo takes V He arose and they entered the greenhouse, and si e turned and broke from a bush a bunch of pink moss roses. Though dressed in silk velvet, her person was jewel- less and tloweriess. " Mr. York," she said, turning to him with the bunch of pink roses in her hand, " you used to let me comfort you." Her fine face, her charming voice, the odor of the sweet buds, brought sad memories to the poor, remorse- stricken, world-wearied gentleman. "Ah, me!" he said, mournfully, with a sigh. " I am t^rowinof old. There is little in life for an old man." It' It. i (i! ! 15() WAl.DO. If j!' ■m " You shall nut say so, dear frioid. Ther(3 are pleasures yet t'oi- you. But, yonn^' as I am, I know all about this lon<^ly, dreary desolation" — her eyes filled with tears, that made them all the deeper — " yot I won't <^ive up to despair. You must not ! " He shook his head. Throuirh the wilderness of bloomini'' flowers, with the musical plash of fountains, her sparkling face near his, half -for ore ttinij his sorrow, half-forofettincf his years, he strolled with her. Waldo wished to please Fan ; but to do so he more and more felt that he must disown his best nature, stifle half his aspirations, and wrest his tastes from their present bent. As he stood alone, turning a fascinated eye upon the dazzling creature on his uncle's arm, he saw upon his sister's finger a ring that he had never seen there before. Then, glancing up, he met the Doctor's eye. " Sampson's locks are shorn ! " those black, sparklincf orbs seemed to say. n i! ' CHAPTER XIX, '"T^HE well-known and somewhat severe aristocrat, ^ Mrs. LeGrand, having; gazed for a moment or so at Fan and Waldo, uttered an exclamation. "What!" she said, "a minister, with Mr. York's niece ? Yes, a minister, clearly ; and I don't know him at all ; though, it is true, I have been abroad so long, I wouldn't know my own family. What is his name ? The young man by her side began, with a smile : " It is Miss York's brother," he said. " They call him the Boy Preacher, at least, his uncle does, I know. Why, he has been preaching for years. He preached to the servants at twelve years of age, on ' What shall ib profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul ? ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! " " Pshaw ! " said the old gentlewoman testily, " it is absurd." it loS WALDO. " What ? Gainini,' tlie world and losinof the soul ? Ah, pardon ! His fair sister, on the other hand, has been taken nearly around the world on several occa- sions, and does not seem any the better for it. Me has, at least, been as well employed in the Church, as she has with Paris and Berlin infidels." "What did he come here to-night for, Mr. Gordon?" " Heaven only knows." For some reason, best known to herself, Mrs. LeGrand was angry. She was a worldly old lady with strong ideas, even at sixty. She quite glared at the young minister from under her bushy eyebrows. She amused Mr. Gordon l)y the unmitigated steadi- ness of her observation of the couple. She talked about them, too, and not in whispers, criticising the plainly dressed young man. Later she said to Mr. York, "Bring the young divine to me. I want to talk to him." It was wonderful how interesting she made herself. " I have been to the Holy Land," she said to Waldo, trying to look scientific, " where you believe some one arose from the dead. I have a friend buried out there, I believe he will never rise. The friend was Elsie Carmen's brother. She was there, too, and cried so bitterly. She cannot believe in the Resurrection. She is not easily imposed on. Mr. York, she is a It in I.,'!'' ; i^^ WALDO. 159 wicked, cynical yourif^j creature, who laughs at her sins and never repents." She turned and tapped Elsie, who was now standing near, with the sparkling fan. " Ah, but I do repent, often ! " "What!" cried Mr. York, sauntering up. "Have you begun to say such things, Elsie ? Thou, too. Brutus ? " The laugh with which Elsie stopped him was both lio'ht and hard. " Not in the way you mean," she said. " I wish I could never do wrong as I wish that flowers could never die.' She moved away with Mr. York. " Your sister is going to marry the greatest infidel in the place, I believe — Dr. Roland?" continued Mrs. Le Grand to Waldo. She struck herself upon the breast. " Look at me ! I married an infidel, at sixteen ! I married a man whose intellect I worshipped. It does not matter that I was wrong. One learns that late. He took mj^ faith from me." " And Waldo," said a voice, " is going to take our rationalism from us, going to utterly demolish the whole thing in a few Sunday lectures." Waldo turned, and saw the Doctor laughing heartily. I()() WALDO. " 1 do not flatter myself so t'nr," said Waldo. " But you will not deny tlie decline of rationalisia in (Jeriiiany ? It is a fact that it is dwindling. Straui^s and Baur are in their graves." Waldo soon found himself alone with liis thoughts again. Foxy, lingering near, sometimes heard him mutter to himself, " He doeth all things well," and wondered what it meant. "Where is Waldo?" asked Fan of Mrs. LeGrand, after the elegant supper had been served ; rich wines, tinted creams and ices, fruits, having challenged the most fastidious taste. " Oh, he is marchinix out there in the moonlight, studying about his sister, I suppose. I heard Foxy pelting him with rjuestions about the devil just now. I am going home. I am tired. I did not sleep last night, after that bad singing at the concert." Fan pointed to a wide lounge in the back parlor. "Just loll there a few minutes," she said. "My brother will sing for us, and you will find your eyes closing softly, involuntarily. You needn't mind the words, you know ; only hear the voice." Mr. York had been compelled to acknowledge to himself that his nephew had a tine voice and sang wondrously well, really with hints of delicate percep- tion. PI' WALDO. IGl Mrs. LeGrand protested afifainst ti.j ariangement, l)ut seeinpr Fan approach with Waldo, she yielded. Mr. York retired to the porch with Elsie. " We are gone, hut you will fill the gap with melody," he said to Waldo. Pale, heavy-eyed, the old aristocrat reclined on the plush sofa. Dr. Roland was Ituried in a book. Foxy sat directly in front of Waldo, gazing up into his face. Fan .sat alone. " I will sing you a song of a beautiful laiul. The far-away homo of tlie soul, Where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand, And the years of eternity roll." The modern instrumentation, the intricate scenery, the massed effects, the scholarship of .he opera, were swept aside from the old lady's mind by a single voice. Those deep, sweet strains stole mrUifluously, as out of the past. Let us sit dumb a moment in the corner there and listen, as our eyes grow wet to the old hymn. It is rich in association, though barren in science. Its arias are wound round the names of saints, like " those trutnpet-fiowers around the plane-trees in the Italian mountains!" Old, and worn, and strained, and worked over, there remains enough of the pure gold of h5^mn- ology to strike the old lady, and keep her dumb and still as an Egyptian mummy. Thin as its harmonies 11 f I 1: II 162 WALDO. may be in that cathedral of vastness that men have erected to the unknown God of music, they remain in our recollection like immortelles. A certain joyous- ness of vital strength poured from the voice of Waldo, defying the pathos of " Marguerite " and the melan- choly of Verdi. When did a hymn roll through that house before Waldo came ? The Doctor had shaded his eyes with one hand, as he sat alone in the library. Then he picked up books, photographs, pictures, and put them down without noticing what he did. " Waldo was only a boy," he kept repeating to him- self ; " only a boy, who wanted a guardian, instruction, development." It was not his fancies, however beautiful, generous and noble, that could shape the destiny of men. A beautiful, noble boy ; ignorant of the world and its evils, full of dreams of impossible glories, and unneces- sary sacrifices ; he was not one to order and rule. " Oh ! how grand and beautiful that is ! Whenever I hear you sing I feel exactly as I did last 3/ ear when we went to the Alps. It is a solemn feeling, as if I were somehow afraid of something, and was of no importance. W^aldo, what makes me feel so?" Foxy stood with his hand on the back of Waldo's chair, and looked up into his cousin's face. 'Mill WALDO. 168 " You are impressed by the solemnity and holy repose of the poet's feeling, Foxy. The writer may be dead ; his influence liv^es on." Mrs. LeGrand's eves had not closed. She found herself very wide awake — indeed, roused. Memories of the past came trooping before her mind. " They have played a joke on me," she said, afraid some one would see the tears in her eyes. The voice had ceased, and silence reigned. She heard Waldo go out, a vehement limp following his step, and shortly afterwards a strange startling sound — a gasping sob. " Fan ! Fan ! Fan ! " she whispered, hoarsely. "I thought you were asleep," answered Fan. " I am awake, Fan," she groaned. " I am awake, at last, to what I have lost." Mr. York and Elsie entered. " That happy man," he said, " the Reverend Waldo York, is a good soul. He has no small doubts." And her smile was scarcely a pleasant thing to see. " It will be a pity when some fair creature fills that parti- cular niche in his mind, and spoils all that fine enthu- siasm ! " Waldo had been full of a feverish longing to hear and learn more of Fan. if only to hear her name spoken, her outgoings and incomings discussed, her girlish habits and tastes, her engagement mentioned. 164 WALDO. As he went out and Mr. York and Elsie went into the room, he heard his uncle say : " The fact is, I am anxious about Fan. She is not strong. All at once she seems very thin. She was always delicate and slight, but now she is shadowy. Her rings are getting loose upon her fingers." " Talking about falling off, papa," said Foxy, who seemed ubic^uitous, " look at cousin Waldo, himself. He IS thinner than he was when he was here last, and his eyes are as much too big as Fan's now." " Oh, perhaps he is fasting ! I know he don't eat." "I like him better than any one I know," said Foxy, stoutly. " Fan," said Mrs. LeGrand, '• is absolutely spirit- uelle! Take her to the country, Mr. York — to the mountains — somewhere. At twenty one should be as gay as a bird. Perhaps her brother's views make her unhappy." " Oh, no, they don't ; he can't make anybody un- happy." " I never thought I could like a preacher as much as I like Waldo," said Foxy, chiming in. " At tirst, you know, 1 wondered how 1 could bear him ; but now I love him. What hard things he can say, and yet not seem in the least hard. Every thing he says comes so straight, right from the bottom of his heart. I II WALDO. 165 He says it is such a pity papa is only kind, only in- tellectual, only a gentleman, and not a Christian." As he received no reply, he turned bo look for Waldo. Foxy had been wont to observe with a contemptuous pity and haughty mien those few Christians who passed his father's house to worship at the church near by. " Deed, not creed," had been Master Foxy's motto ; for he had become infected with modern ideas, and v/as one of those hopefuls who threaten every year to overthrow the Christian religion. He had considered prayer an innocent amusement, and thought that it was rather weak in one to be good. Foxy had been longing to fall in love, but had never done so. The storm of rapture, the blessedness of con- templating ideal perfection, would it ever come ? Was he not fifteen on his last birthday ? Yes. At last this had happened. He loved some one. He felt the enviable thrill, the wild enthusiasm — only he loved a man, his cousin Waldo. But love was there. There could be no doubt about that. It is true that he in- tended to throw the Christian religion prostrate at one fell blow and organize a " new brotherhood," when he grew older. But that dream had given place to an- other. 166 WALDO. Grand young kinsman ! thought Foxy, paying the exaggerated tribute of youthful admiration to Wahio ; where was he to be matched for good stateliness and natural grandeur? How beautiful upon the moun- tains are the feet of them that bring good tidin^^s ! Religion ! No lono^ing could be too high for that ; no hopes too tremendous and unreal for it to encourage. Yes, those promises were so brave and high that wise men mistrusted them — that was all ! so concluded Foxy. Yet something told him " oft in the stilly night " that he might believe those promises. Waldo was a boy when he had chosen to suffer with the children of God, rather than enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season. Foxy felt like running up to his father, throwing his arms around his neck, and crying : " Oh, papa, I am happy at last ! " But he was afraid that Mr. York would turn his dark disillusioned eyes upon him and say, coldly : " Don't be foolish, Foxy ! [' It was late when the party broke up. Mr York had dozed in a chair, and woke up to bid the girls good night. " It is a pity to wake you up," said Elsie, " but we wanted to thank you for to-night. Good night 1 " '* Good night, my dear," Mr. York responded, mak- li WALDO. 167 ing no etibrt to stir. " Remember me in your prayers. I am like old Magnus in regard to the Almighty ; * I will never trouble Him af^ain.' " Fan linked her arm in that of the lau^jhing.. radiant Elsie, and they went upstairs together for Elsie's wraps. " Oh, do look out, Fan ! " cried Elsie, at the window ; " what a night I I atn like Harriet Martineau — I don't like to take my eyes oti'for fear it will all melt away. Tiiink of it. Fan ! I asked that unworldly brother of yours if there was any harm in dancing. He replied that it was ' hard to say what there was no harm in.' " Elsie's grand, dark face, still bravely calm, had be- come quite sad. " He is a man of hard doctrines," she said ; " but, after all, he may be right." ' ' For life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom : And heated hot with burning fears, And dipped in baths of hissing tears, And battered with the strokes of doom To shape and use I " ill 5':' 1 5n ! ^ ^^H^^i ii III ill 1^^ , mj CHAPTER XX. "\T TALDO," said Mr. York, the next morning', ' ^ leaning back in his easy chair and care- lessly lighting a cigar, " I congratulate yon. You have made an impression upon the most unimpressionable young lady I know, Elsie Carmen. That is a chrysalis with wings folded within, but whether a great moth of night or a butterHy, you must discover." " I am sorry if what you say is true. You must surely know that I would not desire a marriage with a ladv who does not believe in God," said Waldo. " Marry her to save her, then. Convert her, as you call it. I love the child ; I want to see her happy." " I would not marry an unbeliever if she were as dear to me as my own soul." " Bravely said ! " replied his uncle, grinding his teeth secretly. " Wait until she gets you in her meshes." WALDO. 1G9 " ' Be not evenly yoked with unbelievers,' my Guide says." " I heard some one say of you and Elsie last iiii^ht, 'He's found some one oood enoujjh for him at last — that scornful lookini^ Elsie Carmen.' You don't know what you mi<:rht make of her." " You over-estimate my influence and her interest. She is a woman who lives in a world of her own, of vague philanthropy, flowers, music, paintings, dissipation. I can be just as happy, perhaps happier, unmarried, at my work." " I doubt it ! " said his uncle, pertinaciously. He looked keenly at Waldo, as a voice rang through the house sud<^enly — Elsie's voice. " What does my bird do here to-day ? " he cried, opening the door ; '' my bird of Paradise ! " She was a brilliant creature, this graceful, gray- eyed nymph, with her coronet of raven hair. She was followed by her little sister, Janey, who was laboriously bringing in a kitten she had found. " Waldo was just thinking of going for you to take you out boating ! " said Mr. York, deliberately. To this bold falsehood Mr. York's nephew made no reply. " Don't compress your lips and look so stern, Waldo," said his uncle. " Should you not enjoy being told the way to ' salvation ' as you sail amid the golden 170 WALDO. ■11 and green glories of the morning tide, Miss Elsie ? " he continued. An arch smile passed over Elsie's face. " Would it be polite to say ' No?'" she asked. " Elsie, let's go ! " cried Janey. " Yes," said Waldo, " we will go." "There it is! " mused his uncle as they left, "the quick, haughty York pride. 1 like him the better that he dare defy her charms. Were he spiritless, slavish, afraid to express his thoughts lest some one should be angered, I should disown him. I like his happy independence and bold strength of heart. But, Miss Elsie, look out for a homiletical discourse ! In the meantime has Waldo fallen in love with her or not ? " Janey thought her sister's eyes look larger and deeper, and burned more brilliantly than ever be- fore. Waldo was angry with himself for feeling happy. He knew that a grove of nightingales would not be so musical to him as Elsie's voice. He thought of the old heathen Chinese philosopher, who said, that when he was undecided which was the best between two courses, he generally found it safest to take the most untempting. " We will return soon — and I will say something to her. Whatever begins in duty must end in joy." WALDO. 171 " Elsie says nuthinnj is as good as it seems bet'ore- luind," shouted Janey, "but this is." A boat with a white sail passed, and Janey cried that it made a picture of itself in her sister's eye. " Beauty born of murmuring^ sound," seemed to pass into the face of Elsie. " Let's stay all day ! " cried Janey. " I have not vet lifted my heaviest cross," thoujxht Waldo. Janey, as soon as they got settled in the beat, sidled up to Waldo. All children loved him. Waldo was not loath to go out in the cool morning under the blue skies in his uncle's boat. Birds were singing every- where it seemed. The boat was soon under full sail, seeming merely to touch the clear little white crests beneath it. Janey felt a sweet sense of safety and protection with Waldo. Elsie was silent, making no effort to be gay. Together they watched the sun mount higher and higher Waldo, erect and silent, set his thin lips firmly and kept his eyes looking straight before him for the most part. If he turned to gaze long at either, it was at the child, who loved him with all her little heart already. Was it not enough to touch the heart to see the tender innocence of that fair face as she turned it up in appealing wistfulness ? 172 WALDO. % k 1 ■ " \ "Mr. Waldu ! " slie said, ' Foxy told me all about heaven. An' I like it, an' I'm Ljoin' there, only I can't pray. God don't come into our room, Elsie says ! " Waldo would not look beyond the child's innocent eyes, into those deep orbs that he knew were growin<^' dark with shadows. "Teach me to pray, please ' " said Janey. " I told Elsie to, but she won't ! " He took the little hands in his. " Look up, Janey." " Our Father, who art in Heaven," he said softly, " bless this child." But Janey s 'offed at this idea. " We haven't got any father — Elsie an' I ! " she announced. " He was killed by a railroad! Didn't you know ?" " 'Our Father' means God, Janey." "Oh!" "Ask Him to make you a good girl for Christ's sat^e. "Whoisi^e?" A smile crossed Elsie's tense, sweet lips. " The Son of God." " I can't pray to two at once." " No one does. God gave His Son to die for the world. One Christmas night He was born, a babe in a manger. He will come again from heaven to judge the quick and the dead. Then the good up there for- ever." iil;: WALDO. 173 " Where's the steps ? " " Janey, come to our Christmas-tree. I shall have one for the children. There you will understand ; for the Babe grew up and died for the world, and if we love Him for that, He will provide a way for us." "May I, Elsie?" asked Janey. "Yes." " Will you?" Waldo bejran; his voice fell and broke, " Will vou come with her ? " he asked Elsie. He .saw that she was troubled. "I?" she faltered. " Yes, you too." There was a peculiar pause, a moment, as it seemed to him, of breathless silence. " Yes," she said at length, " I will go too. Why should I not ? " Christmas-day came, and was sunny and beautiful. The bells were ringing, and Janey listened to them with a swelling heart. She wanted to go to the Christmas-tree, and hailed with delight the rosy glow in the west which preceded the setting of the sun. It was early when she and Elsie entered the little church, but they found many children and a number of grown people there. But Janey saw little save the great frosted tree in the chancel, glittering with a hundred gifts. Everybody looked so happy there i '}' IC 1:1; h 174 WALDO. i arnonff the lights. She had never seen anything like it before, and her belief in Waldo's words grew stronger as she looked. Janey was born in Germany. Her father had bot^n sceptical professor in a college, and had been especially opposed to Christinas festivi- ties. She had mixed little in scenes like this, but the tree and its association appealed to her childish heart and tastes, and she thought she had never felt so happy in her life as when they took their seats in that humble plac^. How solemn it all was, and how splendid Mr. Waldo looked, and how like a jubilee sounded the music of the organ as it sprang into the warm and frao'rant air. The floor was tremblinc: with the cjush of melody, and Janey was almost afraid. But then she heard the children sing, " With angels in glory We herald the story." She felt a strange thrill creep over her, and took Elsie's hand. " Are you cold, Elsie ? " she whispered. " Your hand is like ice." '' No, dear," w^as the answer. " Isn't it splendid ? " " Don't talk." " Is heaven any better than this ? Are the children WALDO. 175 any happier, Elsie ? Oh, o// / they are j^^oin^^ to <;ivo the children those things on the tree. Look, Klsie !" " Janey, be still." But Janey had risen. " They've called Foxy," she announced. " Mr. Waldo called Foxy, to give him a red hook." The brifjhtness of Waldo s face was so e^reat that it caused a pang of something like envy to pass tlirough Elsie's heart. She wished she had not come. The joyous stars, the glory of the frost, yes, the very night itself, in its beauty and peace, had set her heart aching; but not like that beaininrr face ; not like that ojlad voice ; not like the shimmering tree that spoke of childhood. " If they'd only call me," Janey had said to her sister. " Miss Janey Carmen," said Waldo. Janey rose, pale with joy. Chri.^t's own tree had a Sfift for her. She foroot the dazzlinix necklace her sister had given her. A Bible so splendid was handed to her that everybody stared. " Will you read it ? " asked the young minister. " I'll read it all," shouted Janev. Suddenly Waldo felt her pluck at his sleeve. " Is He behind the tree ? " queried Janey, in a whi.« per. 176 WALDO. 'U " Who ? Santa Glaus ? " " No!" said Janoy, indignantly; " Christ!" " He is surely here," said Waldo, gravely. "Elsie," said Janey, returning to her seat, " Christ is surely here, in this very room, without doubt." Waldo was meditating. He was in the past again. He heard the tread of tiny footfalls and the sound of a prattling voice. Fan, comically studious with her book upside down, or dressing her doll in unheard of finery, provided by Maria, or looking at stars and river«, and saying, " Waldo's stars, Waldo's rivers." Fan's farewell sobs knocking against his heart. Fan, tired at last of the husks of philosophy, coming home to God, converted, become as one of these little ones. "' Yes, God will raise up help for her, as He did for- me," he thouixht. Thus did the r\istlinL»- of angjels' win^fs ofet blended indeed with those merry sounds around him on that Christmas niorht. " Fan," said Elsie, an hour later, as they entered Mr York's prrlor. " Why is it that your brother dislikes me so f •' Does he ? " " Acting is not your forte, Fan. I know that he does not like me. His eyes told me before I uttered WALDO. 177 one word, or gave him cause, that he did not fancy me. I wish he would be a real friend to me." " He will. And he is the sort of man to i{0 through tire and water for a friend." " I believe it. Stranjje that he seems to be struof- gling with an antipathy to me." He approached as she spoke, and she looked straight at him with her deep and lovely eyes. He received the glance coldly, she thought. Under his kindly yet distant gaze, she felt what an actress she was. " Oh, Mr. York, what lovely flowers," she exclaimed, looking at a tremendous bouquet which he carried in his hand. " Yes, Miss Lucretia (his uncle's housekeeper) pre- sented them to me, as if she did not really wish me any harm." Miss Lucretia had been very sharp and distant to- ward him at first. " They suit you and Fan better than me," he con- tinued. He divided the bunch and sjave half to Elsie. " Oh, thank you. How lovely." Elsie deliberately stood defore the nnrror and decked herself in the pale, pretty blossoms. Sh • chose white; arranging them in her hair, fastening a cluster in front of her dress on 12 ,:l |||li 178 WALDO. I'' her breast, and setting a little trailing bunch against her shoulder. Waldo never forgot the picture which she revealed to him as the moonlij^ht streamed throus^h the v^^indow upon her, for they were near the window, and she seemed frosted o'er like the December nio^ht. She was dressed in black, heavy, stately black ; and the white against the dark background gave her a St. Cecilia or Lady Jane Grey look. " Are these offerings (possibly of repentance) well disposed, Mr. York ? " she asked. Involuntarily he caught his breath. He felt that she was more than a merely beautiful woman. She was powerful in her way. But he was far from being impressed, conquered, as she intended that he should be, and merely bowed. " I shall go hunt up Foxy ! " said Miss Carmen, with lofty indifference ; but she did not go immediately. She found that her grand airs were of no avail against this bold young preacher, who conversed with her when he liked, and paid no attention to her scep- tical speeches. Her hours with the great thinkers of the age went for nothing then ? As for the vague something — was it a warning, was it a prophecy? — that opened upon her now and then in his eye, that some- thing which made her tremble and grow pale, as if she WALDO. 179 had been wandering on the edge of a chasm. She longed to dare, divine, and question it. And she thought) Fan happy that she might look into his nature, explore its secrets at pleasure. The restt'ulness of youth and health and all-com- manding faith was not to be removed from Waldo's heart. Jt filled his life with immortal beauty, so that the wise gray-beards envied him ; and the youthful, feeling that he was of their kind, loved him. But, oh, it is hard to learn the lesson of faith ; to pray and hear no answer ; to " toil all night and win nothing ! " So it seemed to Waldo, when Sunday after Sunday passed, and none of his uncle's family, except Foxy and some of the servants, had ever been to hear him preach. At last thev all decided to go. " He is going to be a very successful fellow," said Mr. York, with something like a sigh. " People may ignore him if they choose. That is nothing to him. And there is no reason why it should be anything. He is a rising man." iji.'i J ^•i M CHAPTER XXI. T T was a calm Sabbath morning, and Waldo had ^ risen to preach. " The Lord is in His holy temple : let all the earth keep silent before Him/' he said. For the first reading he selected the forty-third chapter of Isaiah, in which occurs that lament of Jehovah, " But thou hast not called upon me, O Jacob; but thou hast been weary of me, O Israel. Thou hast not brought me the small cattle of thy burnt offering. Thou hast bought me no sweet cane with money." It was singularly pleasant to listen while from his lips fell the words of the Bible — that Bible that had be- come dear to him when a boy. Never did his deep voice sound at once so deep and tender ; never was his manner so impressive and con- vincing as when he stood behind those awful pages, and to-day that voice took its most solemn accent, in WALDO. 181 that manner its most intense meaning, as he preached, not only to strani^ers, but, as it were, in a liousehold circle for the first time, the sun shining through the windows and lighting- up his mobile features. As he stood there bendinix over the o't'^^at old Bible, and read the second lesson in Revelations, describing the New Jerusalem, telling how Christ, through the very heavens through which they gazed by day and night, spoke, promising that there should be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying — promising the crown of life, his triumphant voice sounded like a trumpet. He then prayed, wrestling with God, like Jucob in the night. " I will not let Thee go except Thou bless Die ! " thrilled strangely through the people. He felt the solemnity of his call to preach, the purity and meaning of his purpose so sincerely, that others could but feel it too. Ah, there is beauty indescribable in the radiant out- look of a face with the (jlorv of the throne shinin^^ upon it 1 Elsie looked at him in amazement. The sun rose higher in the heavens. Waldo p^'eached on. Promises, a soft relief of hope and comfort in a sad world, fell in a perfect shower from his young and happy lips. His face was like a sunbean* i*^. the place. Faith called, angels beckoned, God thundered. The 182 WALDO. present rolled together like a scroll. The little church was full of visions. He had takon for his text, " And I see a great white throne." When he ceased, a magnificent voice rolled through the church, singing, " I know that my Redeemer liveth." Some one had requested Elsie Carmen, who had great musical ability, to give the congregation a treat and surprise by singing a solo, and she had con- sented. People turned to look at her. Waldo did not turn his head. He knew that tri- umphant composition was being sung with an inward sob ; that the quiver in the voice was not artistic, but despairing ; and, as he rested his temple on his hand, he v^ished it would cease — that glorious, thrilling music that seemed to him like mockery. He could not help sketching a vision of enchant- ment - of what might have been, had that voice en- listed angels in its behalf, and sung to dying souls with a meaning and a hope. If that charming woman above there, in her cushioned pew, had only kept her soul from the love of the world, the pride of life, the doubts of the age ! A vision of a happy man — priest and husband — joined to a real helpmate, serving God, stepping heavenward, filled him for the moment. At last with a faint sigh, which reached no ear but WALDO. 183 that of the Lord whom he served, he arose to pronounce the benediction. With one hand pressed to her heart, Fan leaned heavily against the back of the pew in front of her. Her brother stepped into the aisle, and, as he did so, his ej^es met her's. His was a deep, yearninf^, heart- searching gaze. His calm, holy eyes seemed to pierce her's like an angel's. It was her face that wore a stern mournfulness, an alienated coldness. While a prayer burned in his lifted eyes, her's smiled a melancholy farewell to his doctrines, his hopes, his work, his interests. The crowd swept the tall form forward beyond her gaze. " What a man," thought Elsie. " That unfashionable idea of God — fear of the Eternal One, awe of the judgment, belief in ' special providence,' yearning to save souls — absorbs him, exalts him." " It's a wonder," said Miss Lucretia, " he didn't read them all a chapter from Ecclesiasticks." '* Father,' said Foxy, " I am going to be a preacher. I say, father, I am going to be a picacher ! " Mr. York stood still, amazed. " I am going to study for it, that is," said Foxy, " I may die before becoming one." " Die ! " Foxy turned his sturdy body about. ;l f J 84 WALDO. i Ml'' i 11 >. |i| 111 Wm 1 WMl Jm - "I may die at any time ; but if I live, I shall be a preacher. I thought there was nothing for me, and there is that." His father laughed faintly. " Father," said Foxy, " you always look at the sky and woods as if something was lost from them. You have lost your God ; I have found Him." " Waldo's twaddle ! if I had sent you to R , as I intended, you would have escaped all this." ** But I don't want to escape it." " Well, if you will have it, I'll give you the truth. You shall know what all that humbug is — " " Waldo says it is not right to walk flauntingly where angels fear to tread. That Christ existed is a historical fact. That He was good is another. That He could not have been good if He had been a liar and a fraud (saying He was God when He was not) even I can understand." The boy faced his father. He had caught Waldo's spirit. As the soft May air buoys up the wings of a young bird, Waldo's faith had crept under the budding soul wings of the boy and had lifted him. So even Foxy was to drop out of his curiously lonely life. Mr. York looked at the boy intently. " It will pass," he said. He had watched Foxy with VYaldo with some rather WAL1)(>. I.Sn sharp pancTs of jealousy. It was, perhaps, natural that Fan should love her brother, but Foxy — As Foxy's lonf^-forfijotten laugh rang out on the breeze, and the thin wiry f.rms of the boy twined into those of his tall cousin, his father stood niotiordess, and a large bright drop of moisture appeared on his dark kid glove. "As for nie," muttered Regina, the next week, "I was adrowned in wonder a-Sunday ; but more so a-Monday. He seeked me out an' talked to me about my soul. For him to seek out a poor nurse for no other reason than to say such things to me. Which," continued Foxy's old nurse, " 'tis wonderous bow a quiet man like that will bring home a body's thoujxhts at such times. An' what's more wonderful than keepin' Peter Toles from fallin' into a deep ■snorin' slumberin' sleep at meetin' ? I've knowed men drouse off in that church near as soon as they got to it. Well 'n, I don't keer who the man is, I said it was a mercv I hadn't been abutchered, or aburned like some, or astoned or ahanged to a tree, so I couldn't go an' hear so handsome a young gentleman — like the prophets — tell me how I was to repent. Then I w^as permitted to go, and I felt thankful. A preacher 1 You'd think he was a professor of the stars one minute, an' a professor of the earth another, an' a 186 WALDO. m M k professor of books another ; but this he is — a professor of the Bible. He talked about stars till I was afraid to walk under 'em. Den I commenced to thinkin'." Fan, to whom she was talking, closed her eyes. " You know," said the old nurse, " anybody kin be a infidel as wants to. Thar ain't no law aj^ainst it, Mr. York says, if anybody desires of it; thi*' I don't see what good he's got, neither ! Tho' he acts as if to say nobody shan't cheat him out of it, nor nary part o' that there belief o' his. An' Mr. Waldo, de Lord bless him ! I'm as sure to cry as he begins about God ! He may say the cheerf ullest things, but I'm sure to cry ! * Folks hasn't got any right to do it,' Joins says to him. * Somebody has given me the right. Joins,' says he. Well, I declare ! " Fan now became inexpressibly dear to the deserted sceptic — the sceptic who thought himself deserted. " Uncle takes no interest in anything. If you could help him it would indeed be like breathing life into a corpse," Fan had said to Waldo. Uncle was sad. He never saw Waldo imt there swelled within him an intinite regret, in spite of his Darwin and Huxley. Whatever paths might be open to him, the soothing shades of faith were forbidden him forever, and his spirit seemed to shut him out from the spirits of the young, the innocent and the good. But he was more WALDO. 187 angry than sad. Foxy, seated on the front bench at church, gazinrr up with reverence, and kneeling with devotion had amazed and enraged him. " It's too late, father," he had cried. " Waldo has convinced me. There is a Christ-a real Christ. Whenever I lie down, I think of Him. Whenever I rise up I think of Him. You can have every book in the world, I'll stick to Our Father ! " ,'iiiiiii , IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 Ifii^ IIIIIM ■^ 1^ III 2.2 S 1^ 12.0 1.8 1-4 IIIIII.6 V] 1 1 i Never more, Mi\ Voik, will it he your privile^^re to turn yourchiM's tliouj^hts t«j a better world, or warn liiin of a sadder one. Never more will )ie appeal to you to know it' Revelation is true, flinging his arms around your ni;ck and crying to be comforted, while you turn aw y with a laugh. No more jeers and ridicule for Inm. No more limping through the lonely, magnificent home. There was a moan, and then the words, " My God ! " uttered in a voice it chilled the doctor to hear. " You will see him again," said the preacher. " Oh, never, never ! " Waldo was praying now. He did nothing but pray as thai feeble little heart ceased to beat. He did nothing but implore the Good Shepherd to take that young spirit in His kindly arms and bear it to the heaven He had tried to people with friendly faces. " He is no longer here," said Waldo, " but "In that far-off happy country Which no human eye hath seen, Where the flowers are always blooming, And the grass is ever green. " Mr. York sliivered, and wrapped around hi« shoulders a heavy shawl that Foxy had been accustomed to use. " * I will be me merciful to thy unrighteousness and WALDO. 200 tViy sins, and tliinc iniijuities v^•ill I remember no more,' " repeated Waldo. " Is that in the Bible ? " asked his uncle. '' Yes, sir." Waldo knelt. " Holy Lord ! Father * Maker of all men ! " he prayed aloud, as the sallow face ijrew into clay before his eyes, "now look upon the father of this child ! Help him to say : '' ' Thy ransomed servr.nt, I Restore to Thee thine own, And, from this moment, live or die To serve my (iod alone.' " A great peace seemed to settle on Foxy's face. Mr. York h)oked upon that countenance whence the shadows of bitterness and woe had passed. Was Foxy listening to angels in the new Jerusalem ? "Upon my soul," said Mr. York, "I believe there's something in it. I will keep my word to Foxy. I'll try." Waldo turned to speak to the doctor. He w^avS gone. The next eveninir, as the stars were coming out, the two men, uncle and nephew, were alone together in the room with their precious dead. " Uncle ! " sai^^^J,S^.. CHAPTER XXVI. T T was midsummer. New Orleans lay in the i^rasp -*- of a terrible epidemic. It sent out sicrnals of distress like a ship disabled in mid-ocean. Yellow fever in its most malignant form had made its appear- ance '.n the city. It wreaked its fury on the people with all the venom of the transatlantic plague. The arrow flew by day, the pestilence walked in darkness, and destruction wasted at noon-day. The summer held its sceptre until the leaves curled inward, as if from sheer fright, and the blue air held its breath. The dust was not subdued by the rush of rain, and the clear morning never dawned without new horrors. Flowers died upon the dying grass. Mag- nolias and cedars crowded in close proximity to roses and carnation pinks, in a wilderness of beauty, yet there seemed to be neither shade nor sweetness any- where. Without dew or shadow, summer is as heart- less as a woman without tears or thought, caring only 214 WALDO. II for her insignia of V)eauty, her colors tlanating' the day. So had siininier come to New Orh.*ans, with the epidemic in its track. In vain the Board of Health fought Uie evil. It eluded their grasp like an essence. It had come so suddenly, that even all the wealthy could not escape by the usual exodus ; and, indeed, so terrible was the scourore that boats were at length for- bidden to land their terror-stricken passengers. Crape floated at the doors of wealthy homes, and wails made dismal the air around the hovels of the poor. In one day, from one house, five coffins filled with beloved forms had been borne. The tierce blazingr sun hung like brass above the doomed city. It heated the pavements antil they ap- peared to quiver, and to be too hot to touch even where the awnings sheltered them. The trees were scorched and r^tood motionless, as if they were the production of art instead of nature. The waters, so uniformly caressed by breezes that curled and crested and coquetted with the'.n, and sent the boats dancing to the shore like home-coming chil- dren, were like glass. Those breezes that had sung to the city all spring and summer of lily-whitened marshes and rock-hooded springs, forsook the scourged vicinity, and left the boats to blister and the sails to gleam, ghost-like, in the stillness. hi'' WALDO. 215 The sun rose so early and set so late. By tive o'clock in the morning it sliot through curtained crevices its smoking arrows, and coursed all day tbrougli an un- clouded sky. At seven o'clock, compelled to sink, it shivered into infinite atoms of splendor its shining beams. A death-like stillness re'gned over the old French quarter, but among the tombstones of the white- walled cemetery there was motion — there was sound that made the outer silence the more impressive. Death came stalking up to the people, swiftly, mercilessly, silently. They had time to comprehend him fully now, those unbelievers who dealt only in facts, if such a thing be possible. What is death ? Who can answer the awful question, or realize the final catastrophe ? De Quincey has tried to picture it in his vision of sudden death. But no pen has ever described this enemy. No artist has ever sketched him. Sceptics have felt able to ■'neak gaily of the in- visible hand, and the step in the dark ; but when the human mind catches a mere twinkle of the •' vast flame of death " it faints, unless God sustains it. Dr. Roland strode through the streets with a mas- sive kind of gait, but a <;rave enough face. " Weil," said Regina, " sich is life. And sich is the ill i :«,' 21G WALDO. JiMpWyillMIIH I I, * f '' ■' i I good man's luiiul it will almost Jilvvays stick to its own sister, no matter how^ onnatural and ewn against liini. He says she's got ter leave these part"-' " Elsie's housekeeper, old Aunt Phcebe, always a conundrum to Janey, was more so than ever now, that they told her she was dead. Janey determined to go and peep at her just once before they took her away. Nobody noticed the child as she went ; but when she was found vibrating with emotion, and frowning at the corpse, the evil was done. She caught the disease, and hiy long in its grasp. Elsie remained with her. No hand dared separate them. It was touching to hear Janey, in her delirium, try to pray. The dry little lips would mumble something a long while, then end in a devout " Amen." Elsie felt that she would rather hear anything than that dull mur- mur and that ignorant, explosive, piteous " Amen." But when it ceased, Elsie raising Janey in her anus, listened intently for a moment to the little heart. " Janey ! Janey ! My baby sister ! My precious dar- ling!" she murmured, passionately, pressing the pallid face to her warm bosom. " Oh, pray again, anything to hear your voice." A faint sigh parted Janey 's lips ; and when she recovered, Elsie determined to remain in the city and nurse the sick. Was not Waldo in the city, and exposed at all times? WAr.no. 217 He had even hoardfMl a vessel wliich no one else would approacli, and ministered to the wretched ones there. She wms not afraid of the disease. Many noble women came from abroad, and risked their lives amono; stranjjfors. Should not she risk hers to be with him whom she cared for more than for her own life ? Wherever she went, her eyes had a searching, ob- servant look, as if she wis seekin^r some one. But Fan, luihappy Fan, suffered from a ner- vou: r ar of the disease. Her husband and brother must stay ; their avocations demanded that they should not desert their post, but the Doctor had decided that she should go away immediately. She and her uncle were to leave together. She had ar- ranged for her departure, and at noon one day she stood at her open door. The air was blistering. Not a cloud in sio-ht. Hearses were drawn alonof the burn- ing streets. Death was all around. Stores were closed. Pleasure haunts were silent and dreary. No music was showered upon the air at the opera house. The burning pitch now took the place of revelry and song. All niijht the Doctor had watched beside stiffening limbs, listening to the cries of widows and orphans. He could not say '' I believe Thee, God, when Thou M''^ 218 WALDO. i i 1 H speakest," as WaMu did, "and I'hou wilt be a t'atliei- to tlie t'atlK'rless." "No. It' \\v conld not stop the fever he could do notliinuj, alas. When her husband arrived to take her to the train, Fan's teeth chattered, and her young frame trembled. " Doctor," slie cried, " I am ill. Oh, can it be the fever ? What shall I do if it is ^ Perhaps by to- morrow I shall be dead. Nothing ! Oh, Doctor, are vou sure Waldo is wronof ? He ijives so much comfort to the sick, they say. If I could only believe in such a life hereafter, as he preaches." " There is no use in our deceiving ourselves, my love," said the Doctor. " Doubtless his superstition arose in the same way as the belief in former days in a newt's eye, or any object remote and difficult of access." "The place looks deathly," said Fan. "Even the sunshine is mournful. Oh awful, awful!" she cried, in a low, shuddering tone, as a hearse passed. " But I can't go away. Oh, save me ! I feel the chill creep- ing on me now." She reached her trembling arms toward her husband. It was true. Fan was smitten. She was carried to her bed, the tears rolling down her cheeks. " Never fear, vou will recover. It is seldom one dies in this part of the city," said her husband, pre- WALDO. 219 parinc: a ^>ath for her. " I will work as T never did before." The strong man, though almost fainting from fati^^ue nursed and tended her tenderly. But Fan's thoughts were with Waldo. She wished he would drop in as he sometimes did. She thought of the picture he had kept of her, and the little birth- day gifts. She felt the touch of his hand, the tear that fell upon it at her cold rejection of his religious interest. She missed him now. She missed his sweet, holy singing, his bright face. She liad no idea how she had been leaning on him, for in some way, whenever she had talked anything over with him, it always seemed to lift the burden. But he was out among the sick and dying now, and did not know that she was ill. Ah, let him comfort others. She had refused his help. She would not call him from those terrible death-beds, where she felt that he carried the licrht of hope. Others, strangers, would not reject it, as she, his sister, had done. She would not let her husband nor old Remna know what she felt, though it had been a woeful day when she had turned her back on a faithful brother's loving counsel, and nothing had seemed right since. 220 WALDO. : I t, • i' Niil um " What have i clcjiie in sentling him out from me with anc^uish in his lieartr' she asked herself. "I can no longer atiect superiority to such a man. I shall go to my grave with the thought that I have wounded the noblest heart that ever beat." But now she was too sick to think any more. Her husband bent over her, and heard her murmur wildly, " Waldo, Waldo ! " And then her mind wandered. Suddenly he rushed out of the room. " Great heavens ! " he cried, " I have it myself. I, too, have taken the fever." He crept back, and Hung himself beside his wife, without a word. The place was almost deserted. A nurse v^as not to be obtained immediately. It was late when Waldo called in at his brother-in- law's, exhausted, haggard from unremitting toil and vigils among the poor and sick. He took his place beside the sufferers. He knelt down and kissed the poor, tossing face of his sister. Fan did not know him, and the Doctor was wildly delirious. He turned his crimson face toward the young minister, and sai(i, " You know how I love Fan, but you don't know how I hate her brother. He has made her life miser- able. She is afraid of her shadow." WAI.DO. 221 VValdcj .smoothed the heated biow. "He makes himselt* ridiculous," confided tlie Doctor. '• He entered our midst witli sii^ns of friendsliip, but treacherously poisoned my wife's mind and turned her ai^ainst me. J will not believe in the life divine, he will not believe in death. Then the Doctor demanded a spade, that he might go out and dig liis own grave. Waldo gently held him back. " I was trying to be a good, honest man, but that was not enough for the pious soul," said the Doctor. " If you had done a great wrong, if you had allowed a soul to faint for help before your very eyes, if you were conscious of remorse until you feared the in- sanity of melancholia, what would you do ? " Fan's eyes followed Waldo, then they turned toward the door, as if looking for some one. Waldo walked softly across the room and leaned out of the window. It was only by the exertion of a powerful will that he forced himself to keep up at all. He could eat little, and sleep had fled. He had heard that Elsie had remained in the city as a nurse. His uncle, too, had stayed. An awful stillness brooded around him. How he yearned for the first sprinkling of rain-drops on the roof; as he looked back at the Doctor and thought wm 222 WALDO. [A ^ m II how the shadow of vanishing days had lain, gathering on him ever since their first meeting. " Bring out the dead!" sounded below, and made Waldo's heart beat quickly. Clasping hi.*, hands, he repeated earnestly : '"What is your life ? A dream in the night. ... A tale that is told. ... A breath ! A span ! A vapor ! As grass which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven.' NVhy, then, so anxious, so full of per- turbation ? " A light touch caused him to look around, and his eyes rested on Elsie. " How worn you look, Mr. York," she exclaimed. " The place is desolate, is it not ? A few ministers, a few hundred dying people, and some negroes. I am glad you are here. I have just heard about these two noble ones. You will not let Fan die ? They say you have become a good physician for the body as well as for the soul." " Sit down, Miss Elsie ; you are quivering with exhaustion." '^ How is Fan ? " " Very ill. So is the Doctor." " Let me stay and help ? " Waldo's brow dropped rather sternly. " You run a terrible risk," he said ; " one which I do not wish yoiu to run in your present belief." K' I WALDO. 223 " Have you been ill, sir ? " " No." "How strong in faith he seems," thourrht Elsie. " He instantly and quiescently accepts ' God's will' Heavenly delusion ? And there is Janey, who never tried to deceive any one, says she loves God and feels so happy, and is not afraid to die." Elsie had never looked .so beautiful in his eyes as she did at that moment. " You may come back to-morrow, if you will go out of the city and rest now. And, oh, Mi.ss Elsie, try to believe in God ; make your peace with Him without delay. Isn't this the very time to look to Him for aid?" " Y — e— s ; I will try. Oh, take this money for the poor. You will know how to use it. If you knew how I feel, you wouldn't hinder me. Religion must be very sweet. It makes me think so of the old times. It reminds me of twilight, around the iire, and voices. There ! " — .stopping suddenly, and clearing her throat with a cough — "Good nigh;,!" Waldo had scarcely known what a strain he was undergoing until to-night— until he had felt the clasp of that soft, even-pulsed hand, and looked into those deep gray eyes, perhaps, for the last time. i ,ij If.' ■!•■ ill If 1 i. 'H! .1 ■ " i" f ^ Si i 1 H:; II: :■ CHAPTER XXVII. T^J* AN was better, and knelt beside the bed, with her ^ eyes fixed on her husband's face. " He cannot last another day," she said to herself. Hours passed. It w^as almost day when he opened his eyes ; his lips moved. She put her ear down to catch the words. Could she be deceived ? The only word she could distiriijuish was, " Waldo." Again she looked into his open eyes; they were full of anguish. He put his arms about her neck, pressed her lips to his, drew her head to his breast, and moaned. " Fan," he asked, " is Waldo here ? " " No ; but I expect him. You are better now ?" " No ; but I am so glad you are better, Fan. I think I am going to die. Wait ! Stop ! Nothing can be done. I understand my case. But Waldo thinks prayer is so mighty. Would you — try to — pray for me, Fan ? " he asked. WALDO. 225 She was amazed. She hesitated. How could she pmy ? And yet, he mirrht be about to die. "Try!" he cried. " Why not ? " she said, and knelt down. She raised her eyes. Providence— Oiimiscience— Eternal L«iw. Some words she had once seen rushed on her memory : " If there is such a thinnr, it lau^dis at us, as its great forces crash on and crack our bones to dust." " O God," she cried, '' if there be a God— help my husband ! " A sense of awe was upon her, so that she almost feared to turn, lest after all, what she partly disbelieved in, yet wholly longed for, were at her side. Waldo, softly turning the knob, saw her kneeling there, and lifting up her tear-stained face. Fan's at- titude was that of humble prayer. He stood stunned with amazement, especially when the Doctor raised his hand, and added, " For her sake— I dare not ask for my own— for- give." Then Waldo saw Fan rise in a strange, moved man- ner. Suddenly she clasped the Doctor's hand with a thrilling, ecstatic cry. "' He heard. God heard me. I f.^el, I know that He exists. He loves us. There is hope for us. Oh 15 r^ i -^8 ■ 1'2G • WALDO. death! I do not fear you now. L feel so safe. Oh, why did I ever doubt ? " The next nionieni Fan was in her brotlier's arms. His lips found only one word they could utter, " Fan."' He could clasp his lon«^^-lost darling, heart to heart at last. The could make no answer; but a deep, lon<^ sob of that mysterious, w^ondrous happiness they now shared toc^ether. They stord mutely i^azinjif at each other. Waldo, with eyes of intense fire looking out from a pale and shaken face. Fan, with awe and humiliation mingling with her joy. Oh, that face of Fan's. Reminder of his purest affection and greatest trial, of his happiest days and lonelie.st years. How fair it was now with the ex- pression God intended it to wear. " Go to him/' Waldo cried, suddenly pointing to the bed. Waldo thought the Doctor might be dying, his face showed such agony of mind. "Oh, science! ignis fatuus!'' the sick physician mut- tered to himself, " you have mocked me long enough. In place of my mother's Gcd. Oh, grand philosophy, you have given me only conjecture and abstractions. Oh, can the shades of death be darker than the star- WALDO. 227 less nicrht through which I have rrroped for forty years? Metaphysics! Science! Grand words! A little genuine peace would be more to the purpose." "It would be (loli.i,ditful," thought Waldo, no see the peace of God shining on that pale, stern,