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ED IT 0 R'S N 0 TE.
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This little volume" contains a narrative
of deep and touching interest; illustrating
the insufficiency of wealth, beauty, pleas-
ure, and fashion, and the power and beau-
ty of the Christian life, even in children.
It also exhibits the influence of early
training on the formation of character.
And although intended for the young,
may be read with profit by parents and
teachers. .
- - D. W.

Juvenile
Collection
R Z.
7
C 0 NTE N T S.
CE LAPs YPAGº
I. — MARGARET AND AUNT ELLEN................... 9
II.-MARGARET LEAves AUNT ELLEN.............. 22
III, -MARGARET's SISTER ADA......................... 37
IV. — MARGARET's SABBATH TRIALs.................. 51
V. — THE NEW GovKRNESS............................ 60
VI. — THE PINK DRESS AND THE PARTY............ 71
VII. —visiT FROM AUNT ELLEN........................ 81
VIII. — MARGARET's CONFESSION........................ 93
IX. — MARGARET CONQUERS HERSELF................. 104
X. — ADA's SICKNESS..................................., 118
XI. — MARGARET IN THE SICK-CHAMBER............. 131
XII. — MARGARET LEADS ADA To JESUS.............. 188
XIII. - A GUILTY MOTHER................................ 151
xv.–Apa's death-ohanner........................... 161
&
* §llwātyātiſtſ;.
PAGIP
Tº gº NEW PONY. . . . . . . . . . . . tº G & ſº º tº º & G tº º tº g tº ºn tº gº e s tº
& ſº º is e º e º 'º e º ſº e º 'º e 2
AUNT ELLEN'S PARTING ADVICE. . . . tº e º e º ſº tº e º s º e º 'º e º ºs e º e º º º 29
DRESSING FOR THE PARTY................................., 73
ADA's ILL TEMPER DISPLAYED............................. 110
MABGARET READING TO ADA.............................. 135
(Y
t
t
MARGARET CRAVEN.
*-º-º-º-
CHAPTER I.
MARGARET AND ALJNT ELLEN.
NOT many years ago there stood, at a
little distance from the dusty high road
which passed through a quiet agricultural
village in one of the midland counties of
England, a pretty looking house, known,
from the circumstance of its having a
thatched rooſ, by the name of “The
Thatched Cottage.”
Over the front, as well as from the
rustic porch, hung clematis, roses, and
“other climbing plants. Against one end
was trained a large apricot-tree, which,
'every summer, might be seen thickly
studded with rich, golden fruit, while
/
10 MARGARET CRAVEN.
over the other ran a grape-vine, reaching
almost to the top of the tall kitchen
chimney, on the sides of which the
finest clusters of grapes were always to be
found. At the front of the house was the
lawn, laid out very prettily, with gravel
walks and beds of flowers; at the back
were the small kitchen garden and the
poultry yard. -
Such was the home of Mrs. Shirley and
her little niece, Margaret Craven. Here
it was that Margaret's life had been spent
ever since she could remember; for,
though not an orphan, she had never
known her parents. They had left En-
gland for India when she was very young,
leaving her under the care of Mrs. Shir-
ley, who was a widowed sister of Mr.
Craven's. They did not then expect that
their absence would exceed two or three
years; but, from one cause or other, it
had been so much extended, that Mar-
garet had, from being repeatedly told.
that they were coming, and being then
disappointed, at length almost ceased to
expect that she should ever have any
MARGARET AND AUNT ELLEN. 11
other home than the Thatched Cot-
tage.
Mrs. Shirley had no children of her
own, but faithfully did she fulfill a moth-
er's duties toward her brother's child, at
the same time lavishing upon her an
affection which a mother's love could
hardly have surpassed. In return, Mar-
garet loved her with all the warmth and
devotion of an affectionate and confiding
nature, hidden, though it was, from those
-who did not know her well, by manners
timid, reserved, and retiring. She loved
her parents, too, but it was in a different
way. It was as we love those whom we
feel we ought to love, but whom we have
never seen, and of whom we know but
little.
Mrs. Shirley conducted her education,
carefully instilling into her young heart
lessons of faith, truth, and holiness, and
early leading her to the feet of that Saviour
in whom she herself trusted, and whose
example it was her own dayly endeavor
humbly to follow. The more ornamental
parts of education were not neglected,
12 MARGARET CRAVEN.
but they were esteemed by Mrs. Shirley at
their proper value. While pursuing them,
Margaret was taught never to forget that
they would adorn her only for a time,
while the love and favor of God, which,
conscious of her own unworthiness, she
must seek, by a true faith in Christ, with
constant denial of self, and a dayly en-
deavor, by the aid of the Holy Spirit, to
walk in the way of his commandments,
would be her portion forever.
Thus instructed, it was no wonder that
Margaret's was a happy childhood, her
home a happy home. She had, it is true,
no companions of her own age, beyond
the few young people who were occa-
sional visitors at Mrs. Shirley's house;
but she needed them not, for in her aunt
she ever found a ready sharer in all her
little Sorrows, a glad companion in all
her joys, and she wished for no other.
Things had gone on in this way until the
time when our story commences, at
which period Margaret had just entered
her eleventh year.
It was one bright morning in early
MARGARET AND AUNT ELLEN. 13
spring, Mrs. Shirley was preparing break-
fast, and Margaret was standing at the
window, scattering crumbs for the robins,
and regretting that they were now grow-
ing too independent to care for them,
when the postman made his appearance,
walking quickly up the gravel walk which
led to the house.
“Aunt Ellen,” exclaimed Margaret,
“there's the postman! shall I go and get
the letter?” and, without waiting for a
reply, she ran to the door, and quickly
returned with a letter in her hand. “It’s
an Indian letter, Aunt Ellen,” said she;
“I wonder if there's a little one inside for
me.”
But Margaret soon saw that there was
not, and that she must, consequently, be
contented to take her news second hand.
She was well accustomed to read her
aunt's countenance, and soon saw, by the
change in it, ere she had read the first
page, that the letter contained some lif-
expected intelligence.
“Margaret, my love,” said she, “here
is good news for you in this letter; your
14 MARGARET CRAVEN.
papa and mamma are coming home at
last.”
“Coming home, Aunt Ellen?” exclaim-
ed Margaret, and for some reason, quite
unknown to herself, she burst into tears.
“Yes, dear, your papa says that they
will be here in a few months; but why
do you weep, Margaret? you are glad,
are you not?”
“Yes,” said Margaret, “I am glad, at
least I think I am; I ought to be glad,
ought I not, Aunt Ellen 7°
“Yes, dear, certainly you ought; you
ought to love your papa and mamma
better than any one else.”
“Not better than you, aunty dear,
ought I?” said Margaret, twining her
arms around her aunt's neck, and affec-
tionately kissing her; “at least not till I
have seen them. I don’t think I can,
Aunt Ellen, love them better than I do
you.”
*We shall see when they come,” said
Mrs. Shirley, smiling and kissing her
again; “at all events, I do not think
they will mind your loving me too,
MARGARET AND AUNT ELLEN. 15
though they mean to take you away
from me.”
“Take me away from you?” repeated
Margaret. “I never thought of that,
Could not they and Ada come and live
here too?”
“I do not think it is very likely that they
could, Margaret; but you are not going
yet, so we will not talk about it now; we
will have our breakfast.”
Margaret obeyed this restriction for a
little while, but her thoughts were still
busy on the same subject. She noticed,
too, that her aunt had not taken anything
for her breakfast but an occasional sip of
coffee. Presently she looked up in the
midst of eating her egg, and laying down
her spoon, said:
“Aunt Ellen, I am afraid I am not so
glad as I ought to be.”
“You will be glad by and by, dear
Margaret.”
“Well, perhaps I shall, but somehow it
seems as if I could not be glad to go away
from you, not even to papa and mamma,
and Ada. I do like this old house so too,
16 MARGARET CRAVEN.
and the garden, and the chickens, and
poor old Tiney, and everything else.”
Then, after a pause, she continued, “I
suppose, Aunt Ellen, that papa and mam-
ma will have a much finer house than this
to live in?”
“I should think it most likely, or they
will not have a very fine one,” replied
Mrs. Shirley, again smiling.
“But fine houses don’t make people
happy,” remarked Margaret, in a wise tone.
“Nor do they make them unhappy,”
replied Mrs. Shirley. “You remember
what your little hymn says, Margaret,
that
“‘Happiness dwells in the temper within,
And not in the outward estate.’”
“Is mamma like you, Aunt Ellen’
was Margaret's next question.
“No, she is much taller, and when I
knew your mamma, Margaret, she was
very beautiful.” A
“Then I suppose Ada is beautiful too,
as she has always lived with mamma.”
“I do not know that that would follow
MARGARET AND AUNT ELLEN. 17
as a matter of course,” said Mrs. Shirley,
smiling; “however, once when your papa
wrote, I remember that he said Ada was
very like your mamma.”
“I am not at all beautiful, am I, Aunt
Ellen?” said Margaret, glancing, as she
spoke, at the chimney glass opposite.
“God has not seen fit to give you any
large share of outward beauty, my child,”
replied Mrs. Shirley; “but if you strive for
it, you may gain a kind of beauty which
is of far greater value. Mere beauty of
face and form, unless there be love to
Christ, with goodness and virtue within,
is as worthless as it is short-lived and de-
ceptive ; but beauty of the heart and mind
can make even the plainest face attract-
ive, and will still retain its bloom when
outward beauty is faded and gone.”
“Do you think Ada is good, Aunt El-
len?” said Margaret.
“I hope, dear Margaret, she may have
learned to love and obey the Lord Jesus;
certainly I know of nothing in her to the
contrary. I hope that she and you will
be sisters in Christ, and in all that is
18 MARGARET CRAVEN.
good and excellent, as well as sisters in
name.”
“It will be very nice to have a sister
certainly, won’t it?” said Margaret. “We
can learn our lessons together, and play
together, and save up our money to make
clothes for the infant-school children. Yes,
all that will be very nice, only I wish Ada
could come and live here for you to teach
us, Aunt Ellen; don’t you think papa and
mamma would let her?”
Mrs. Shirley sighed deeply as she an-
swered that she thought such a thing was
not likely. Margaret heard the sigh, but
she little suspected its cause. She did not
know that at that moment her aunt was
taking a glance into the future, and that
she sighed as she thought of the many
temptations to err from the right path,
which she feared might be in store for the
child whom she had so long loved and
cherished as her own.
Mrs. Shirley was, as we have said, a
sincere Christian, and had endeavored to
bring Margaret up in accordance with the
principles by which her own actions were
.."
MARGARET AND AUNT ELLEN. 19°
guided. Her brother, though he both
loved and admired her for her goodness,
differed widely from her on the topics
which in her eyes were all-important.
While his wife, unless greatly changed
from what she once was, she knew to be
a thorough woman of the world, leading
a sort of butterfly existence which fash-
ionable life demands, and as unfitted for
the task as she was unlikely to make the
attempt to lead Margaret onward in the
path in which her footsteps had hitherto
been directed.
She sighed, too, as she thought of the
difficult position in which the poor child
would be placed. She knew that many
things which she had hitherto been
taught to look upon as wrong or even
sinful, because they were so in God’s
sight, would, in her father's house, not
only be lightly regarded, but even spoken
of with admiration. While the amiabili-
ties and excellences of her disposition,
which she had so carefully nourished and
fostered as lovely flowers, hereafter to
blossom in beauty and fragrance, would
2
20 MARGARET CRAVEN.
meet with no encouragement, but, on the
contrary, would, she feared, soon be suf-
fered either to run waste, or be left to be
overgrown with unlovely and hurtful
weeds, whose seeds, notwithstanding all
the pains she had hitherto taken to destroy
them, she well knew still remained within
her heart.
“But it is wrong of me, very wrong,”
thought she, as she sat thus meditating
within herself, “to be thus distrustful of
the love and care of my heavenly Father.
Cannot he who kept Noah in the midst
of an ungodly world, who watched over
Daniel, surrounded as he was by all the
pomp and splendor of a court, keep her,
too, safe from harm, and unspotted by
the world? Can he not, will he not,
grant her the aid of his Spirit, to keep
her back from sin, and to enable her to
withstand temptation, in one place as
well as in another? I have, it is true,
guided her hitherto, but I have been but
the instrument in his hand. Why should
I grieve that she is to be taken from me?
How can I tell but that it may be for
MARGARET AND AUNT ELLEN. 21
some wise and good end, which I am
not yet permitted to see? I will pray for
greater faith, and strive to leave her un-
murmuringly in his hands to do what
seemeth him good.”
22 MARGARET CRAVEN.
CEIAPTER II.
MARGARET LEAVES A UNT ELLEN.
SIx months had passed away, and now
Margaret had been folded in the arms of
her long-absent parents, had received the
first kiss of her beautiful sister Ada, and
had heard endless accounts of the new
home to which she was soon to go. Mrs.
Shirley was busy making preparations for
her departure; as for Margaret, she did
not know, as she herself said, whether she
felt happy or unhappy, glad or Sorry. In
the short interview she had had with them,
her papa and mamma seemed very kind
and good; and Ada—yes, she liked Ada
very much; and she should like to go and
live with them all, because it was right
that she should live with them. But
then she did not like leaving her Aunt
Ellen and the Thatched Cottage; she
could not like that, if she tried ever so
much.
MARGARET LEAVES AUNT ELLEN. 23
Bier papa had taken a beautiful house
near London, and Ada said they were to
have everything in the world that they
wanted; that would certainly be very nice,
but then Aunt Ellen: well, Aunt Ellen
would, of course, come very often to see
them, and they should, of course, go to see
her. This was a bright thought; and with
it Margaret at length tried to comfort her-
self as well as she could.
The last day on which she could call
the Thatched Cottage her home, came.
The next morning her papa would be
there to take her away. Margaret had
spent the aſternoon in going with her
aunt to say good-by to a few friends in
the neighborhood, as well as to the old
women in the almshouses, with whom she
was a great favorite, and in paying a last
visit to the infant school, to distribute
among the children a few little pinafores,
which she had saved up her money to buy,
and which she had been busily employed
in making for the last fortnight.
“After tea, Aunt Ellen,” said she, as
they walked home, “I shall have to pack
24. MLARGARET CRAVEN.
up my work-box, and then I shall have
done everything.”
“And Ishall finish knitting your muffa-
tees,” replied her aunt, “and then I shall
have done everything.” *
Tea had not been long over when Mar-
garet's work-box was brought out. She
arranged and re-arranged the contents
many times, before she could place them
entirely to her satisfaction; at length she
declared that she should not take them
out any more. “Look, Aunt Ellen,” she
said, turning round to her aunt, at whose
side she was sitting, “do you not think this
Will do?”
Mrs. Shirley had not spoken for some
time; and as Margaret uttered the words,
she saw three or four bright tears fall
down on the muffatee which she was just
completing. She jumped off her seat,
and, throwing her arms round her aunt's
neck, exclaimed:
“Aunt Ellen, dear aunty, don’t cry; I
wish I was not going away; I wish I might
stay with you! But I will ask papa to
bring me to see you very often, I will in-
~- MARGARET LEAVES AUNT ELLEN. 25
deed; and I shall never forget you. I
will think of you every day, and I will
love you too, O, so very much l’”
“You are a dear child,” said Mrs.
Shirley, fondly pressing her to her bosom;
“I know you will love me, Margaret, and
remember me; and will you try to remem-
ber all I have taught you as well ?”
“Yes, indeed I will, Aunt Ellen. I
will remember everything. I will never
do anything that I think you would not
like.”
“That is, if you can help it, my dear
child. But remember that you must not
trust to your own strength to do what is
right.” -
“No,” said Margaret, “I must ask
God to help me. I will remember that
too.” -
“And you will try to please God, Mar-
garet. It is right of you to try to please
me, and to please your papa and mamma;
but first of all you must try to please God.
Sometimes, you know, the things which
please him, do not please others who are
very dear to us.”
26 MARGARET CRAVEN.
Margaret looked up, as if she did not
at all understand what her aunt meant.
“Don’t they?” she said.
“No, my love. I mean that all do not
think alike. What some people think to
be very wrong, others consider there is no
harm in. So that, if we are guided only
by a desire to please our fellow-creatures,
we may sometimes go very wrong.
Whereas, if we strive to do only those
things which please God, and ask him
to help us, we shall be quite sure of
going right.”
“I think I understand what you mean,
Aunt Ellen. You mean that if anybody
I loved very much were to wish me to do
things which I knew displeased God, and
I did not do them, I should be quite
certain that I was right, and they were
wrong.” -
“Exactly; but I hope, dear Margaret,
that you will never be placed in such
a case.”
“O, no!” said Margaret, as if she
thought such a thing quite impossible.
“I was only supposing, you know. Do
MARGARET LEAVES AUNT ELLEN. 27
you think, Aunt Ellen,” she continued,
“that mamma will teach Ada and me
the same as you have done?”
“I think it most likely that you will
have a governess,” replied her aunt;
“but, of course, you will be as obedient
to her, Margaret, and attend to all
she says, as you would to me or your
mamma.”
“Yes,” said Margaret; “but I hope
she will be very kind, and teach me
as you have done, and Ada. I wonder
if Ada likes learning as much as I
do.”
“If she does not, you must try to like
it better,” said Mrs. Shirley. “She is
nearly two years younger than you are,
remember; and, therefore, you must set
her a good example, not only in learning,
but in other things.” "
“In other things, Aunt Ellen’” said
Margaret, inquiringly.
“Yes, you must be kind, and gentle, and
forgiving toward her, making allowances
for her faults, if you expect her to make
allowances for yours.”
28 - MARGARET CRAVEN,
*Do you think Ada has faults, then,
aunt?” said Margaret.
“She would be a very wonderful child
if she had not,” replied her aunt. “Do
you not recollect those verses in the Bible
which say, ‘There is none righteous, no,
not one.” “All have sinned, and come
short of the glory of God?”
“Yes, I recollect that,” said Margaret;
“but I hope Ada is not ill-natured.”
“I certainly should think that there is
little reason to fear that, at least, from her
appearance, Margaret. But, of course,
you must expect to have sometimes to give
way to her. You cannot expect to have
things run on so smoothly when there is
the will of another to consult, as when
you can follow your own inclination with-
out any one to contradict you.”
“I do not think I shall mind giving up
to Ada, if she will give up to me some-
times in return,” said Margaret.
“Then you must, as Isaid before, being
the elder, set her the example, striving
yourself to follow Him, who left ‘us an
example that we should follow his steps,”
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AUNT ELLEN'S PARTING. ADVICE.

MARGARET LEAVES AUNT ELLEN. 31
and remembering the words of the apostle,
when he says, “Be ye kind one to another,
tender-hearted, forgiving one another,
even as God, for Christ's sake, hath for-
given you.’”
Margaret sat for some little time in
silence on her aunt's knee; she seemed to
be thinking: at last she said, as if think.
ing aloud :
“I wonder what old Goody Mills will
do without me to go and tell her the texts
on Sundays.”
“I suppose I must go and take them to
her instead; do you think that will do?”
said her aunt, smiling.
“O, yes! that will do very nicely, if
you will, Aunt Ellen; but I shall miss poor
old Goody too. I wonder if there are any
almshouses, or any infant school, where
mamma lives. Ada said she had never
heard of one. Was not that funny ? Put
I suppose they don’t have infant schools in
India.”
“Very likely not,” said Mrs. Shirley;
“at least not in all parts; but you must not
expect to find everything in your new
32 MARGARET CRAVEN.
home that you have been accustomed to
here, Margaret. You will have so many
fresh pleasures, that you must make up
your mind to lose some of the old
ones.” -
“Yes,” said Margaret, thoughtfully ;
“only Ishould like an infant school. I was
thinking, Aunt Ellen, that if there should
not be one, I shall have too much pocket
money. I shall not know what to do with
what I used to save for our little children,
and for the old women’s tea and sugar at
Christmas.”
“Well, you had better wait and see;
there are always plenty of good uses to
which money can be applied.”
“Only I shall not have you to tell me,”
said Margaret. “Aunt Ellen,” she ex-
claimed suddenly, “would it not be a nice
plan if I might write to you sometimes,
and if you would write to me, and tell me
all about everything ?”
“A very nice plan indeed. I was going
to propose it if you had not thought of it,
Margaret. You can write to me as often
as your mamma will allow you, and tell
MARGARET LEAVES AUNT ELLEN. 33
me everything you do, and all about
yourself.”
“O ! how very pleasant that will be
and then I shall have a letter back from
you. But, Aunt Ellen,” she added, speak-
ing in a lower tone, and putting her face
closer to her aunt's, “suppose I should
be tempted to do what is wrong, as I am
now sometimes, may I tell you that too !”
“Yes; you may tell me that too, my
love; but remember to tell it to God also.
Remember that you must go to him and
confess to him all your faults, asking his
forgiveness for the sake of Jesus Christ
your Saviour. And you should ask those
also against whom you have offended to
forgive you.”
“Yes; I will indeed,” said Margaret,
“and I will ask the Holy Spirit to help
me to be good. Aunt Ellen, do you
know, 'I think if it were not for you I
should often be a great deal naughtier
than I am. I seem sometimes to feel as
if I liked to be naughty.”
“Do you know what it is that makes
you feel so, Margaret?” --
34 IMLARGARET CRAVEN. .
“No, aunt, not exactly ; I know it is
God's Holy Spirit that makes us wish to be
good, and puts good thoughts in our wick-
ed hearts; and I know we all have wicked
hearts.”
“And Satan, the wicked spirit, puts
wicked thoughts into our hearts. We
learn from the Bible that Satan seeks to
destroy souls by tempting them to sin
that they may be lost forever.”
“That is very dreadful,” said Margaret,
“I will try always to think of it when I
feel as if I should like to be wicked
again. But people cannot help doing
wrong things sometimes, can they, Aunt
Ellen 2’” *
“Not of themselves, as I told you before;
Margaret; but by God’s help they can. It
is only when we fieglect to ask for, and
trust to, this help, that he permits us to
fall into sin; for the Bible expressly tells
us that God “will, with the temptation,
make a way to escape, that we may be
able to bear it.’ You know what that
means, Margaret.”
“Yes, aunt, I think I do. It means,
MARGARET LEAVES AUNT ELLEN. 35
does it not, that if Satan tempts us to do a
wrong thing, and we feel as if we should
very much like to do it, yet if we ask
God he will help us not to do it, as he
helped me not to take that large peach off
the garden wall, though I had got my
hand on it, and was almost going to pick
it last summer ?”
“And when I was in the summer-
house watching you, though you did not
know it until afterward,” said her aunt,
smiling, “ and saw you run off in doors, as
if you were frightened.”
“Well, I was frightened,” said Marga-
ret, “so frightened lest I might go back
again; and O, I remember, I felt so
thankful when I went to bed at night, and
thought that I had not done it. I know it
was God who helped me not to take it. I
recollect so well just how I felt when my
fingers touched the peach. I seemed to
feel, all in a moment that he was look-
ing at me, and then I seemed in my heart
to ask him to help me, and then I ran
away.”
Mrs. Shirley folded her once more in
36 * MARGARET CRAVEN.
her arms, and Margaret felt the warm
soft tears fall upon her face as she said,
“God bless you, my darling child, and
ever grant you his mighty aid in every
temptation to which you may be ex-
posed.”
MARGARET’S SISTER ADA, 37
CHAPTER III.
MARGARET'S SISTER ADA.
WHEN Margaret awoke two mornings
after, she looked around in amazement,
and it was some moments before she
could recollect how it was that she found
herself in a place so different from her
own little room, papered with green, at
the Thatched Cottage. By degrees she
recalled the different circumstances of the
previous day, finally recollecting that she
had been too tired and weary to take
notice of anything when she came to
bed.
She now saw that the room was much
more elegantly furnished than any of her
aunt's rooms at the Thatched Cottage had
been, and that the two little beds which it
contained, as well as the windows, were
hung with sky-blue damask. She pushed
the curtain of her own bed aside, and saw
her sister Ada fast asleep in the other.
3
38 MARGARET CRAVEN.
Ada, at that moment, looked very beauti-
ful, and Margaret was so attracted by her
appearance, that she slid out of bed, and,
creeping silently toward her, imprinted
one gentle kiss upon her cheek. The
child awoke, and rubbed her face with a
gesture of impatience.
“It was only I, Ada dear,” said Mar-
garet; “won’t you give me another kiss?”
“I thought it was a musquito,” said
Ada; and, again closing her eyes, she
was soon fast asleep.
Margaret did not think this a very gra-
cious salutation; for, though she was not
quite Sowell acquainted with musquitoes as
Ada, she knew that they had stings, and
she did not at all like her first kiss being
taken for a sting of any sort. However,
she forgave Ada, supposing her to be, as
she really was, very sleepy, and amused
herself by making a quiet tour of the
room, and peeping out under the corners
of the blinds to see what the outside view
might be. Then she again crept into bed,
and employed herself, until the servant
came to call them, in counting the little
MARGARET'S SISTER ADA. 39
silken bobs which hung down from the
fringe around her bed.
Susan (for this Margaret discovered the
servant's name to be) had some difficulty
in arousing Ada, and still more in inducing
her to get up. Margaret, who had always
been accustomed to treat her aunt's serv-
ants with proper respect, could not help
feeling astonished at the manner in which
Ada, as soon as she began to dress, ordered
Susan about, never condescending to thank
her for any of the services she performed.
At length they were both dressed, Mar-
garet having had to wait some time before
her frock could be fastened, on account of
Ada's insisting upon wearing one which
she had torn, and which Susan was conse-
quently obliged to sit down and mend.
“Now,” said Ada, “let us go down, and
I will show you the new pony.”
“But we have not said our prayers
yet,” said Margaret.
“O, no more we have 1 but we can say
them afterward. Come along,” said Ada.
“I would rather say mine now,” said
Margaret, drawing back.
40 MARGARET CRAVEN.
“Very well,” said Ada; “it will soon
be over, to be sure,” and she knelt down
by the foot of her bed.
Margaret knelt down by the side of
hers, but did not rise for a long time after
her sister.
“What a time you are ſ” said Ada. “I
could have said my prayers twenty times
while you have been saying yours. I al-
ways make great haste with my prayers.”
“But that is not right,” replied Marga-
ret; “we ought not to be in a hurry when
we are speaking to God.”
Ada gave her an amazed look, and they
went down stairs together.
Mr. Craven was in the breakfast-room.
He kissed them both ; and, upon Ada in-
quiring about the new pony, he said he
would take them to see it himself, at the
same time forbidding them ever to go
into the stable alone. As they were going
along, he looked at Margaret, and said,
“Why, Margaret, you are not a bit like
Adal You are something like your aunt
Ellen; but I hope you’re not so good as
she is,” he added, in a half-joking way.
MARGARET'S SISTER ADA. 41
“No; I am not nearly so good as Aunt
Ellen,” said Margaret, very seriously.
“Well, I am very glad of it, my dear,
said her papa, apparently amused at her
answer; “you would be a great deal too
good for me if you were. I don’t think
your aunt Ellen was ever a naughty girl
once in her life.”
“But I have been naughty many
times,” said Margaret, in the same seri-
ous way.
“So much the better, my dear. I tell
you, you would be too good for me if you
had not.”
99
“But, papa,” said Margaret, looking up
in his face, “don’t you like good people %
I love Aunt Ellen dearly.”
“So do I, Margaret,” he replied, seeing
that he had gone a little too far; “and I
hope you will always love her, for I am
sure she deserves it.”
Margaret felt satisfied that her papa
had only been joking; and as they had
now arrived at the stable door, the pony,
a beautiful little cream-colored creature,
soon drew their attention from other sub-
42 MARGARET CRAVEN.
G
jects. Ada was impatient for a ride.
Margaret stood by and admired.
“Margaret must have the first ride, she
is the eldest,” said Mr. Craven, drawing
her forward as soon as the side saddle was
adjusted; but Ada endeavored to mount,
and said that she would have the first.
“I don’t mind, papa,” said Margaret, as
her father attempted to pull Ada down.
“I can have a ride afterward.”
“Aunt Ellen all over,” murmured Mr.
Craven to himself; but he allowed Ada
to have the first ride nevertheless.
When they returned to the house, Mrs.
Craven was down and waiting breakfast
for them. She kissed Margaret, and after
asking her how she liked the new pony,
bade her and Ada stand up together, that
she might see the difference in their
height.
“Ada is nearly as tall as you, Mar-
garet,” said she, “although she is more
Jhan a year and a half younger. I am
afraid you have a habit of stooping.
You must be taught to overcome it.
Your new governess will be here next
MARGARET’S SISTER ADA. 43
*
week. She is a very accomplished lady,
and I hope you will both of you be good
girls, and make the most of her instruc-
tions.”
After breakfast, Ada, who seemed to
delight in being of importance, took Mar-
garet all over the grounds, then into the
different parts of the house. “And now,”
said she, “we will go up stairs, and I will
show you all my frocks and pretty things,
and afterward, when Susan has unpacked
your boxes, I can see yours.”
The room was soon strewn with articles
of dress of every description. Ada evi-
dently took great pride in displaying
her finery; Margaret remarked that she
thought some of her frocks were very
pretty.
“Yes,” said Ada, “those are what I
wear when there is company, and I go in
to dessert after dinner. You will have to
go as well now; but I suppose you haven’t
any frocks so handsome as these ?”
“No,” replied Margaret; “Aunt Ellen
never wears such smart things herself, so
she did not buy them for me. I always
44 MARGARET CRAVEN.
used to wear white in the evening, if aunt
had any friends.”
“Ah! but you won’t now; mamma likes
to see people nicely dressed, and of course
you will have the same things that I do,”
said Ada, in a patronizing way.
“Shall we fold all these up now, and
put them away again?” said Margaret,
who really began to feel quite tired of
looking at so many dresses.
“O, no! Susan can do that,” said Ada;
“I never fold up my own things.”
“But she is unpacking my boxes,” re-
plied Margaret; “besides, Ada, we pulled
them all out to amuse ourselves, and it is
not fair that she should have to put them
away again.”
“Why not?” said Ada; “she's my
servant—our servant, at least,” she added,
correcting herself; “what's the use of her
if she is not to wait upon us?”
This was quite a new style of things to
Margaret, and Ada shortly after going
down stairs, she took the opportunity of
asking Susan if she could assist her in
taking the things out of her trunks.
MARGARET'S SISTER ADA. 45
“Thank you, miss,” replied Susan; “if
you would come to these drawers and
show me how you like your things put, it
would save me the trouble of altering
them afterward. Miss Ada is so very
particular about hers.”
“I am very sorry, Susan,” said Mar-
garet, as she helped to place some of her
things in the drawer, “that you will have
the trouble of putting away all Ada's
things, for she only got them out to show
me. I would fold them up myself, only
I do not exactly know how she would like
them done.” *
“I don’t think it will ever be a trouble
to me to do anything for you, Miss Mar-
garet,” said Susan. She would have
added, “I wish Miss Ada were like you;”
but thought she had better leave the
words unsaid. Margaret thanked her for
her kindness, and then said, “Shall you
want this little top drawer for anything,
Susan 3”
Susan thought not; upon which Mar-
garet added, “Then I think I should like
to keep my books in it. Ada says that
46 MARGARET CRAVEN.
there is a book-case in the school-room,
where I can put them, but I would rather
keep some of them here ; my Bible, and
Prayer Book, and Hymn Book, and a few
other little books. They will be easier for
me to get at. My Bible, you know, I
shall want every night.”
“Every night, miss?” said Susan, in a
tone of slight astonishment.
“Yes,” said Margaret. “I always read
a chapter, or part of One, to my aunt
Ellen every night before I went to bed,
and she used to explain it to me; but she,
said, that as she thought mamma might
very often be engaged, and not able to
hear me, I had better make it a rule
always to read to myself now, for fear of
missing sometimes.”
When Susan went down stairs she told
her fellow-servants that she thought Miss
Margaret much too good for that house,
and that it was a pity she had ever come
into it.
With Margaret the day passed quickly
away. There was so much to hear, and
so many things to see, that she thought
MARGARET’S SISTER, ADA. 47
she should never come to the end of them.
Yet, amid all, true to her promise of
never forgetting her Aunt Ellen, her
thoughts many times wandered back to
the Thatched Cottage, and in her heart
was a fond, half-regretful recollection of
the happiness she had left behind her
there.
When bed-time came, Ada was dread-
fully sleepy, she having, on the strength
of its being Margaret's first day at home,
petitioned to be allowed to sit up an hour
later than usual. Margaret was tired too,
but as soon as they were undressed, she
threw her dressing gown around her, and
taking out her Bible, sat down and began
to read.
“What are you about, Margaret?” said
Ada. “Why do you not get into bed ?
I want to go to sleep.”
“I am only reading a little, Ada dear,”
replied Margaret. “I shall not disturb you
if you go to sleep.”
“But I cannot go to sleep while the
ſight is burning,” said Ada, pettishly,
“and you surely cannot want to read to-
48 MARGARET CRAVEN.
night; there will be plenty of time to-
morrow.”
“There, Miss Ada, you cannot see
the light now, if I draw the curtain,”
said Susan; “So go to sleep like a good
girl.”
But Ada kept on talking and grumbling,
so that at last Margaret was obliged to
close her book and put it back in the
drawer. She then went up to Ada's bed
to wish her good night. “Susan can put
the light out now, Ada,” said she ; “but
please do not talk to me for a little while,
dear. I am going to say my prayers.”
Ada’s sleepiness alone prevented her
non-compliance with this request; and
Margaret, her thoughts in a complete
whirl, and her heart full of new and
strange feelings, knelt down to pray.
After a while her ideas became more col-
lected, and she prayed earnestly that God
would bless all who were dear to her, her
father and mother, her dear sister Ada,
and last, but not least, her beloved aunt
Ellen. She prayed for herself too, that
she might be enabled, by the Holy Spirit's
MARGARET’S SISTER ADA. 49
help, to put all her trust in the Lord Jesus
Christ, to love God, and to keep his com-
mandments, that she might be watered
with the dew of his grace while here on
earth, and finally received, through the
merits of her Saviour, into the everlasting
kingdom which he has prepared for those
who love him.
When she rose from her knees, Susan,
who was still in the room, whispered, “It
takes you longer than your sister to say
your prayers, Miss Margaret.”
“Yes,” said Margaret; “because you
Know, Susan, I have so many things to
ask for. But I don’t the least mind being
in the dark another night, if it keeps you
too long, Susan.”
“No, Miss Margaret, I would not mind
waiting twice as long for you,” she re-
plied, as she helped her into bed. “I
would not have put the candle out, only I
knew Miss Ada would go grumbling to
your mamma.”
“Thank you, Susan,” said Margaret, “I
am very much obliged to you for being so
kind to me. You have tucked me up just
50 MLARGARET CRAVEN.
as Aunt Ellen used. She always came to
kiss me every night after I was in bed.”
And two or three tears dropped on Mar-
garet's pillow, as she thought how long it
might be before she should see that dear
face bending over her again.
MARGARET's SABBATH TRIALS. 51
CELARTER IV.
MARGARET'S SABBATH TRIALS.
THE Sabbath had indeed ever been “the
Pearl of Days” in the Thatched Cottage.
Margaret had generally been accustomed
to accompany her aunt immediately after
their early breakfast to the Sunday school,
where she stood by her side as she taught
her class. They then went to church.
In the afternoon it was always Mrs.
Shirley's practice to assemble around her
as many as chose to come, and the num-
ber was frequently not small, of the chil-
dren of the little farmers, and others in the
village, who considered themselves just a
grade too high to attend the parish school.
With these she read the Bible, explaining
the more difficult parts, and encouraging
them to its study by many little plans of
her own.
Sometimes Margaret had joined this
class, but more frequently she went to the '
52 MARGARET CRAVEN.
almshouse close by, to read for an hour
or two to blind Goody Mills, the expected
loss of whose society we found her regret-
ting. In the evening they went to church
again, and the day was closed with pleas-
ant and useful conversation, or a little
reading, and, finally, evening worship. To
Margaret it was always a happy one ; but
she was now destined to spend her Sun-
days in a very different way.
In Mr. Craven’s house breakfast was
always late on Sunday morning; so late,
that Mrs. Craven was often late at church,
too, in consequence of it. Mr. Craven
accompanied her there sometimes, but
only sometimes. It was one of his opin-
ions, that as people who went to church
were often quite as wicked as those who
stayed at home, there was very little
use in attending church at all; and so, in-
stead of going in the hope of growing better,
he remained away, and grew if not worse,
at least more careless and indifferent.
On the first Sunday morning of her
residence at home, Margaret noticed that
new frocks and bonnets were laid out for her
MARGARET'S SABBATH TRIALS. 53
and Ada, much smarter than any she had
ever yet worn. Ada was delighted, and
spent much time in looking at herself in
the glass; but Margaret, to say the truth,
felt rather out of her element. When
they joined their mamma at the hall
door, where the carriage was waiting for
them, she looked at them both with evi-
dent satisfaction, and said, “You do look
a little fit to be seen now, Margaret; I
can’t think how your aunt could have
dressed you in such dingy things. But
make haste, and get into the carriage, or
we shall be too late.”
Margaret, however, did not like her
new dress any better for hearing her
aunt's taste so disparagingly spoken of.
When they came out of church, Ada
made remarks on the people whom she
had seen there.
“Did you see that lady that sat three
pews before us,” said she to Margaret,
“in a blue bonnet and feathers? that was
Lady F. Mamma knows her.”
“No,” replied Margaret, “I did not
notice her.”
4
54 MARG ARET CRAVEN.
“You saw those two young ladies in
white, then, just across the aisle; they are
the clergyman's daughters. Mamma says
they look regular frights in those great
bonnets.”
“No, I do not think I saw them,” said
Margaret; “I did not look across that
way.”
“What did you do with your eyes
then?” said Ada; “I do not think you
saw anybody.”
“Aunt Ellen always says it's not right
to look about in church,” replied Mar-
garet,
“Well, but you need not mind now
what she says,” said Ada.
Margaret was going to reply that
she liked minding what her aunt said,
when her mamma interrupted her by say.
ing, “Margaret is quite right, Ada. It is
extremely vulgar to stare about in church
in the way you do; you never see the
Misses F. do so, and I must beg that you
will correct this habit.”
Ada pouted, and Margaret could not
help thinking that the reason which her
MARGARET'S SABBATH TRIALS. 55
mamma had assigned for its not being right
to stare about in church was a very differ-
ent one to that which her Aunt Ellen
would have given.
“There is to be company to dinner to-
night,” said Ada, as she and Margaret
were taking off their things; “I heard
mamma giving orders about the dessert.
We shall have to go into the dining-room
after dinner.”
“Company to-night?” repeated Mar-
garet in a tone of astonishment; “why, it
is Sunday !”
“Well, what does that signify " said
Ada; “papa likes to have company on
Sundays; it is so dull without, he says.”
In the afternoon the two sisters were in
the drawing-room together. Mr. Craven
came in. “Come, Margaret,” said he, “I
have not heard you play yet, and Aunt
Ellen gave me a flourishing account of
your music. Sit down and play me a tune.”
Margaret immediately went to the piano,
and commenced a hymn tune. “That is
not a very pretty tune, I think,” said her
father, “although you played it very nice.
56 MARGARET CRAVEN.
ly; do you not know something rather
merrier, Margaret?”
“I do not think there are any merry
hymn tunes, papa,” said Margaret, look-
ing round.
“No, I don’t suppose there are,” said
her father; “but I do not want hymn
tunes; play me something else, something
lively.” º
“But it is Sunday, papa,” said Marga-
ret timidly. .
“Well, and may not people play lively
tunes on Sunday?” said he ; “come, sit
down. I am sure you know some.”
“I would rather not, papa, please,” said
Margaret, drawing back, as he attempted
to place her again on the music stool.
“Ah! I see how it is,” said her papa;
“your aunt has made a regular little
Methodist of you, in spite of all the direc-
tions I gave her to the contrary; has she
not, Margaret?” he continued more kind-
ly, and patting her shoulder as he spoke.
“I don’t know, papa,” she replied: “I
don’t know what a Methodist is.”
“Well, and I am sure I cannot tell
MARGARET'S SABBATH TRIALS. 57
you,” said her father; “only you need not
look so scared about it, for they are a very
good sort of people. At least, so your
Aunt Ellen would say.”
Soon after this Margaret went up stairs
to her own room, and taking out her Bible
and some of her little books, began to read,
feeling all the while very lonely and sad
at heart indeed. She thought of her
Aunt Ellen, of how she was spending the
day, and of all she had said to her about
trying to please God, and that he would
help her to keep in the right path if she
asked him; and then she lifted up her
heart to her Father in heaven and felt
comforted. In a little while her father’s
voice was heard calling to her to come
out in the garden. When she went down
she found him giving Ada rides round the
paddock on the new pony. -*.
“Come, Meggie,” he said, as soon as he
saw her, “put away that solemn face, and
haſe a ride. Ada is only going round
once more.” Margaret did not answer,
but as soon as she saw that his attention
* See Frontispiece.
58 MLARGARET CRAVEN.
was again taken up with Ada, she slipped
away and ran back to her own room.
In the evening she and Ada were both
dressed with every possible care to go in
to dessert. Ada was a child whom any
One could love and caress. Her beauty
was so striking, and her manners, when
she was in a good humor, so engaging,
that few could help being attracted by
her.
Margaret's manners, on the contrary,
were timid, reserved, and perhaps, from
her having been so unaccustomed to soci-
ety, a little awkward. She was not long
in feeling the difference in the notice
taken of her and of Ada by her father's
guests. Ada, who had seen them all be-
fore, was petted, flattered, and caressed
by every one, and laughed and talked
without the least sign of bashfulness, but
to Margaret they were strangers; few
spoke to her, and to those few she seemed
as if she could not find a single word to
say in return. Often in the course of the
evening she felt the tears almost ready to
rise into her eyes, and O ! how often did
MARGARET's SABBATH TRIALs. 59
she wish herself back again in the quiet
parlor of the Thatched Cottage, reading
her evening portion of Scripture to her
Aunt Ellen, or singing the evening hymn,
with which, and family prayer, their Sab-
bath duties always closed. -
At length, to her great relief, the time
came for them to say good-night, and
when Margaret laid her head upon her pil-
low, in the dark, gentle stillness of the
night, she, for the first time since she had
left her aunt, indulged in the luxury of a
good cry. After this, she again asked
God to bless her, and a secret feeling of
peace and happiness stole over her. The
everlasting arms were beneath her. She
slept sweetly under the shadow of his
wing, who has said, as of his vineyard, so
of each, even the weakest vine planted in
it, “I the Lord do keep it; I will water it
every moment: lest any hurt it, I will
keep it night and day.”
60 MLARGARET CRAVEN.
CELAPTER W.
THE NEW GOVERNESS.
THE next week Miss Gregory, the new
governess, came. Margaret had built
very much upon the thought of her com-
ing; for never having been taught by any
one but her Aunt Ellen, an idea had taken
possession of her mind that Miss Gregory
would be something like her and teach
like her. In this, however, she was
doomed to be greatly disappointed, for
Miss Gregory and Mrs. Shirley were in
nearly every respect as unlike as two per-
sons could well be. Miss Gregory was a
person of stiff and rather haughty man-
ners, and of a dashing, stylish appearance,
while Mrs. Shirley, as our young readers
will have concluded from what they al-
ready know of her, was exactly the oppo-
site in all these respects.
On the day of Miss Gregory’s arrival,
Margaret in the evening happened to be
*
THE NEW GOVERNESS. 61
in the drawing-room when the governess
and Mrs. Craven were talking together.
Margaret had no intention of listening,
but she could not avoid overhearing what
they said, although she was seated at some
distance from them.
“I have brought Ada up under my own
eye,” said Mrs. Craven, “but Margaret,
on account of her being then a delicate
child, was left, when we went abroad, un-
der the care of a sister of Mr. Craven’s,
who until this time has entirely conducted
her education.”
“Indeed!” said Miss Gregory; “she is
very different in appearance from her
sister.”
“O yes; they are different in every
respect,” replied Mrs. Craven, “and Ivery
much regret that we were compelled to
leave Margaret so long as we did with her
aunt, as, although I have no doubt that
she is a most excellent person, she has
given her such strange, Odd notions on
Some points, that I fear you will have a
little trouble in getting them out of her.
You may observe, too, that she is awkward
*
62 MARGARET CRAVEN.
in her manners, and not at all stylish in her
movements; but those things I hope you
will soon be able to correct.”
Miss Gregory replied that she had not
a doubt of it, as her last two pupils, the
daughters of Sir James H., were consider-
ed to be exceedingly awkward when she
first went to them, but now every one
noticed them as most graceful and elegant
girls. Margaret felt that she had no right
to hear any more, and with her heart all
in a flutter, moved off to the furthest end
of the room.
Mothing could be more contrary to the
system in which Margaret had hitherto
been educated than that adopted by Miss
Gregory. All her endeavors were direct-
ed toward making her pupils proficient in
showy and outside accomplishments, and
in imparting to them what she considered
fashionable and stylish manners and
movements. Margaret was at first in
frequent disgrace for not holding her head
that way, and her shoulders this, while
Ada was as constantly commended for her
superior grace and elegance.
#
TELE NEW GOVERNESS. 63
By this time Margaret had ceased to be
considered as a stranger in the house, and
Ada's character began to come out in its
true light. Susan said, that no one, to
see them together, would ever suppose
that Miss Margaret was the elder, for Ada
did nothing but domineer over her, and
order her about, always insisting upon
having her own way in everything.
At first Margaret had borne all this very
amiably, but when she found that Ada
considered it as a matter of course that she
should always give way to her, she grew
less patient, and often felt exceedingly
irritated against her sister. There were
other things, too, which made her at times
feel very unhappy. Her father, if he did
not exactly laugh at her Aunt Ellen for
being religious, would often throw outjests
about her, which Margaret could well un-
derstand, but did not at all like. She
saw, too, that Ada was much more thought
of and considered than herself; and
though, as far as outward circumstances
went, they were treated exactly alike, yet
that the place which she held in the
64 MLARGARET CRAVEN.
hearts of her parents, especially of her
mother, was much smaller than that as-
signed to Ada. Yet she loved Ada new-
ertheless, and tried hard not to feel envious
of the love which all seemed anxious to
shower down upon her.
Margaret tried hard, too, to banish other
sinful feelings and wrong thoughts, which
she became conscious were, by degrees,
endeavoring to obtain access to her heart,
and as long as she watched, and strove,
and prayed, she came off conqueror. But
many temptations were around her, and
more than once she felt herself on the
point of falling, more than once her foot
slipped, and she no longer stood upright
in the narrow way.
By slow degrees she grew less watchful
over herself, and her trust in the Saviour,
and the desire to please God within her
heart, seemed to be less earnest than they
had once been. Sinful thoughts and pas-
sions were allowed, after a time, to grow
up unsubdued within her; and though in
her better moments she sought God’s help,
yet the whisperings of the Spirit in her
THE NEW GOVERNESS. 65
conscience were often unheard; or, if
heard, were unheeded or forgotten.
At first she had written long letters to
her aunt, faithfully relating whatever hap-
pened to her, pouring, as she had been
ever wont to do, all her short-comings and
temptations into that faithful bosom, and
receiving in return words of warning, help,
or encouragement, as the case might be.
Her mother took no notice of this cor-
respondence. One day, however, she
took up one of Mrs. Shirley’s letters, but
Soon threw it down again, saying that she
could not think what in the world Marga-
ret could want to write such long letters
for, if she always had such dull ones in
refurn. But by and by Margaret's letters
to her aunt became shorter and less fre-
quent. She did not love her less, but she
seemed to have less to say to her, or per-
haps less that she liked to say.
Ada was, for her age, much more back-
ward in her education than Margaret, and
being, besides, both idle and inattentive,
was frequently in disgrace with Miss
Gregory about her studies. Margaret, on
66 MARGARET CRAVEN.
the contrary, who, as much from inclina-
tion as habit, always performed her tasks
well and punctually, was soon, on that ac-
count, notwithstanding her awkward man-
ners, (which Miss Gregory, however, de-
clared to be considerably improved,) in
high favor with that lady.
Margaret's heart, when she heard the
praises and commendations bestowed upon
her, began to be lifted up, and she would
feel pleased within herself, that in one
respect, at least, she was superior to Ada.
One wrong feeling seldom finds its way
into our hearts without making room for
more, and as this feeling of pride kept
growing within Margaret, others equally
hurtful and pernicious began to spring up
around it. She became less kind to Ada,
less gentle and obliging in her manners
toward others, less careful to obey her
parents, and render them due honor. That
Ada did the same was no excuse for her,
and yet she made it one. “Ada does
not do what mamma tells her directly,”
she would say to herself sometimes, when
chidden for acts of disobedience, “and
THE NEW GOVERNESS. 67
mamma is not angry with her; I do not
see why she should be with me.”
When Miss Gregory first came, Ada,
who was, as we have said, often in trouble
with the tasks which she had to perform
out of school hours, had always met with
a ready helper in Margaret. But when
Margaret found, after a time, that Ada had
no inclination to return this kindness, by
showing her kindness in other respects, she
made up her mind that she would not help
her any more, or, at least, not so often as
she had done. Miss Gregory always desir-
ed that their books and other things should
be arranged on the table before she came
into the school-room after breakfast. This
they took it in turn to do, week by week,
but Ada, unless reminded of it or assisted
by Margaret, as often forgot it as not.
Now, however, Margaret left off remind-
ing her of this also, and the consequence
was, that Ada often had a long lesson to
learn as a punishment for her negligence.
“There, Miss Ada,” said Miss Gregory,
as she one morning crossed Ada's French
exercise from top to bottom, “I desire
68 MARGARET CRAVEN.
that this exercise may be written over
again before you go to bed to-night. If I
do not find it properly written, and on the
table to-morrow morning, you will have
one double the length to write next time.
I shall not remind you of it, remember;
so you must recollect for yourself.”
When Margaret went to the closet in
the evening to get her lesson-books, she
saw that Ada's exercise remained untouch-
ed. It would have been kind in her to
have reminded, her of it, and probably,
had Ada been in the room, she might
have said to her, “Ada, you have not
written your exercise.” But she would
not trouble herself to seek for her. “I am
sure Ada would not take so much pains
for me,” she said to herself, as she sat
down to learn her lessons, forgetful of the
beautiful precept, to “do good, hoping for
nothing again.” -
In the morning Miss Gregory, as Mar-
garet had expected, was very angry, and
Ada was in disgrace the whole day, while
on Margaret she bestowed several little
indulgences, and made a point of holding
THE NEW GOVERNESS. 69
her up as an example for Ada to follow.
If Margaret had received these praises with
humility, and kindly endeavored to help
Ada out of her trouble, the bond of sisterly
affection between them would have been
more closely cemented, but she did not do
either. She behaved coldly and proudly
toward the humbled Ada, not only on this
occasion, but on many others of a similar
kind, and the eonsequence was that Ada
began to take a dislike to her, and to delight
in teasing and vexing her in every way
that she could ; and so the breach between
them, begun by very trifles, grew wider
and wider every day.
And Margaret, did she feel happy with
all this? O no ; the testimony of an ap-
proving conscience was no longer hers,
and she often felt very wretched and mis-
erable indeed. Mr. and Mrs. Craven
were frequent witnesses of the disputes
and bickerings which took place between
her and Ada; and more than this, Ada
frequently carried to her mother exagger-
ated or misstated accounts of many things
which Margaret had done, as she alleged,
5
70 MARGARET CRAVEN.
}
*
out of unkindness to her; and as Mrs.
Craven seldom took the pains to examine
into the matter, Margaret was very often
blamed much more than she deserved, and
scolded for things which were no fault of
hers, while Ada's domineering and self-
willed ways were taken no notice of. All
these little circumstances fretted Marga-
ret's temper, and instead of asking God, as
she had at first done, to figlp her to bear
them meekly, she went on resisting, and
often returning evil for evil, thus making
bad worse, and growing more, unhappy
every day.
THE PINK DRESS AND THE PARTY. 71
CHAPTER VI.
TEIE PINK DRESS AND TEIE, PARTY.
ONE evening Margaret and Ada were
invited to a juvenile party in the neigh-
borhood. Ada, who thought quite as
much of her appearance as if she had been
a grown-up lady, begged of her mother to
let them have new frocks for the occasion.
She had one day happened to overhear
one of her mamma's friends say to another,
“How well Ada looks in pink.” But she
had not a pink evening frock, and ever
since then her desire had been to possess
one, and Mrs. Craven, though without
knowing her reason, now complied with
her desire, and bought them each a rose-
colored silk, trimmed with white lace.
Ada was so impatient to wear her frock
that she could hardly wait for the evening
to arrive. It came, however, at last. The
frocks were laid out, and Susan came up .
to dress the sisters.
72 MARGARET CRAVEN.
“Susan,” said Ada, “there is not so
1nuch lace on my frock as on Margaret's.”
“I don’t think there's any difference,
Miss Ada,” said Susan. - *
“Yes, there is,” replied Ada; “there
are two rows round Margaret's sleeves,
and only one round mine. I know there's
some more lace in one of mamma's draw-
ers, just like it; I shall go and fetch it for
you to tack round for me.”
Mrs. Craven happened to be out, so
Margaret interposed, “Ada, I don’t think
mamma will like you to go to her drawers.
when she is out.” -
“O yes, she will,” replied Ada, and off
she ran, Susan fastening Margaret's frock
the meanwhile. -
When she returned she had the lace in
one hand, and a bottle of what appeared
to be scent in the other.
“Here's the lace, Susan,” said she,
“make haste and do it; and I’ve brought
this scent,” she added; “will you have
some, Margaret?” *
“We may not take mamma's scent,
may we?” said Margaret.


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in Original
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THE PINK DRESS AND THE PARTY. 75
“O yes,” replied Ada; “I asked her
before she went, and she said I might take
the bottle off her dressing-table.”
• Margaret held out her handkerchief,
then, putting it to her face, exclaimed,
“It’s not scent, Ada ; I don’t know what
it is,” and she threw down the handker-
chief in disgust. :*
“Not scent l” exclaimed Ada, snatching
up the bottle, but by some mischance it
slipped from her hand, emptying its con-
tents upon the beautiful frock which lay
in Susan's lap.
“O dear!” cried Ada, “what have I
done? will it stain, Susan 3” -
“I’m sure I don’t know what it was in
the bottle,” said Susan; “but yes; O look,
if it has not taken every bit of color com-
pletely out; and such great patches too,
all over the front.” -
“O ! what shall I do ſ” said Ada, burst.
ing into tears of vexation.
“You must wear one of your India
muslin ones, Miss Ada, with a pink sash,”
said Susan.
“No, I will not,” cried Ada passionate-
76 MARGARET CRAVEN.
ly; “I will not wear anything; I will not
go at all.” .
“But you must, Ada,” said Margaret;
“now we have been invited.” *
“I will not, then,” returned Ada; “and
I am not going to be ordered about by
you, Margaret; for though you are the
eldest, nobody thinks half so much of you
as they do of me.” -
The color rose to Margaret's face at
this unprovoked impertinence on Ada's
part, and she walked away into the school-
I’OOIOl.
“Come, Miss Ada,” said Susan, coax-
ingly, “let me put on this white frock; I
am sure it looks very nice.”
“No; I will not,” said Ada, “I will
not go in white, and Margaret in the
pretty rose-color that I wanted so much.
I do not choose her to be better dressed
than I am. I would not care if she were
going to wear white too.”
Susan slipped into the school-room after
Margaret. “Miss Margaret,” she said,
“I do not know what I shall do with Miss
Ada; she says she will not wear a white
THE PINK DRESS AND THE PARTY., 77
frock, and I know your mamma will be so
angry if you do not go.”
“Well, I cannot help it,” said Marga-
ret; “it is Ada's own fault. I did not
throw the bottle down.”
“No ; I know you did not, miss; but
Miss Margaret, dear, do you think you
would mind wearing a white frock too,
just this once? It would be right enough,
then, with Miss Ada.”
Margaret paused a moment. The good
and the bad were contending within her.
Alas! the bad prevailed. She replied,
“No, indeed, Susan. I do not see why I
should wear white just to please Ada. If
she were not so unkind to me I would not
mind, but if I go at all to-night I shall
wear this frock, and perhaps Ada will see
that people think something of me too, as
well as of her.” *.
“Well, I am sure I cannot blame you,
Miss Margaret; Miss Ada is very pert,
and you do look uncommonly nice in that
frock.” .
After much coaxing on Susan’s part,
Ada was at length prevailed upon to suf.
78 MARGARET CRAVEN.
fer herself to be dressed in the white frock,
and once at the party, soon forgot her
troubles amid the pleasures of the even-
ing. Margaret was not nearly so fond of
these amusements. After a short time,
she went and sat down on a window seat,
being almost concealed by the curtains
which fell over it. After a time two la-
dies took possession of a sofa just in front
of her; she sat watching the children, and
presently saw Ada, full of life and spirits,
at no great distance.
“What a lovely little creature that Ada
Craven is,” said one of the ladies to the
other; “do you see her in white, with a
pink sash?” -
“Yes,” replied the other; “I think she
is one of the sweetest children I ever saw ;
quite a little fairy; and she is so prettily
dressed, too, to-night. Her mamma some-
times loads her a great deal too much with
finery. What a different girl the other
is ; Margaret, I think, they call her. Is
she here to-night?”
“Yes; I saw her somewhere just now,”
was the reply, “in a rose-colored silk dress
THE PINK DRESS AND THE PARTY. 79
trimmed with lace. Such a ridiculous
dress for a girl of her age, and not at all
suited to her complexion either. Sho
would have looked three times as well if
she had been dressed like Ada. But it is
not to be wondered at, for until the last
six months, you, know, she has been with
an aunt in the country. I dare say she
will improve after a time, but she will
never be anything to compare with Ada
in point of appearance.” - -
This was enough for Margaret; she
crept away from her seat. But there was
no more pleasure for her that evening.
She wished she could have gone home
that very moment to have taken off the
hateful pink silk frock, and every time
Ada came near her she could hardly bear
to look at her, for the lady’s words still
kept ringing in her ears, “She will never
be anything to compare with Ada.”
“O !” said she to herself, as with a bit-
ter feeling in her heart, she lay down on
her bed that night, “O that I could go
again and live with Aunt Ellen She
loved me ; she does not love people be-
80 MARGARET CRAVEN.
cause they are beautiful. O, if I had been
beautiful like Adal’’ -
Ah! Margaret, Margaret! but where is
that beauty of the heart which that dear
friend so earnestly bade you cultivate?
Have you forgotten her words? Have
you not left it, like a neglected plant, to
wither and die of itself? Why is it that
you now so seldom pray that your heart
may be watered with heavenly dew from
the Holy Spirit & Why is it that you now
so seldom seek, in the pleasant pastures
of God's holy word, for food whereby it
might be nourished and strengthened? Ah,
Margaret! desire not beauty, for it is vain,
but seek rather the ornament of a “meek
and quiet spirit, which in the sight of God
is of great price.” 1 Peter iii, 4. Confess
to God the sinfulness of your heart ; look
with faith to Jesus Christ his Son; and
ask for pardon through his blood, which
cleanses from all sin: “If we confess our
sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us
our sins, and to cleanse us from all unright-
eousness.” 1 John i, 7, 9.
A VISIT FROM AUNT ELLEN. 81
CELAPTER WII.
A. VISIT FROM ATUNT ELLEN.
IT was about two months after the party
that Mrs. Craven, one morning, called
Margaret into her dressing-room, and said,
“I have had some news this morning
which you will like to hear, Margaret.
Guess what it is.” *
Margaret looked up, wondering much
what it might be. Mrs. Craven went on:
“I have had a letter from your aunt Ellen,
, and she is coming to see us.” *
Margaret burst into tears.
“Why, Margaret,” said her mother,
“what a strange girl you are. I thought
you would be so pleased.”
“So I am,” sobbed Margaret; “but O,
mamma,” she said, “I’m so afraid Aunt
Ellen will never love me any more.”
“Never love you any more, child; why
what do you mean?” said her mother, re-
garding her with a look of astonishment.
82 MARGARET CRAVEN.
“Not if you tell her how—how wicked
I have been since I have been here,” said
Margaret, “and how Ada and I quarrel
sometimes.” *
“Then, why have you been so naughty?”
said her mother; “yes, you certainly do
behave badly, very badly sometimes, Mar-
garet.” {
“O, I don’t know,” said Margaret, still
sobbing, “sometimes I can’t help it; but
you won’t tell Aunt Ellen, will you,
mamma” &
“Not if you promise to behave better
for the future,” said Mrs. Craven.
“I will, indeed I will,” said Margaret,
throwing her arms round her mother's
neck, and kissing her. “O, thank you,
mamma. When will Aunt Ellen come?”
“In a few weeks,” replied Mrs. Craven.
“I believe you think a great deal more
of your aunt Ellen than you do of me,
Margaret. There, go away now, and do
not make any disturbances with Ada be-
fore she comes.”
“She is a strange child,” said the
mother, as Margaret closed the door after
A VISIT FROM AUNT ELLEN. 83
her, “and certainly has more feeling than
I supposed, after all.” -
Margaret now made an abundance of
good resolutions, and determined so to be-
have during her aunt's visit that she should
be unable to discover any alteration in
her; but, alas ! these resolutions were
made in her own strength, consequently
they were broken almost as soon as
formed, and every night conscience told
her of some fresh transgression, or some
new violation of the rules she had laid
down for herself.
At length Mrs. Shirley arrived, and for
the first two or three days nothing occurred
to mar the happiness which their meeting
occasioned to both. But as Aunt Ellen
became by degrees to be more and more
regarded as one of the family, little circum-
stances occurred now and then which in-
duced her to fear that things were not with
Margaret quite as she had hoped to find
them. Ada lost the desire of showing her-
self off to the best advantage as to a stran-
ger, and Margaret, unaccustomed to appear
before her aunt as anything but what she
84 , MLARGARET CRAVEN.
really was, grew careless in keeping the
constant watch over her words and actions
which she had at first done, and conse-
quently often committed herself in Mrs.
Shirley's presence in ways which she was
afterward sorry for.
Mrs. Shirley noticed all in silence. She
loved Margaret far too fondly to wish to
judge her harshly, or to blame her unde-
servedly, while this very love made her
most anxious, if she were indeed wrong,
to endeavor, as far as lay in her power, to
guide her once more in the path which
she so earnestly desired she might tread.
Mrs. Shirley had been in the house
about a week, when, one morning, Miss
Gregory having, on account of her great
attention, dismissed Margaret a quarter
of an hour before Ada, she entered the
library where her aunt usually spent her
mornings, and with a pleased countenance
said that she was come to stay with her
until luncheon time. Mrs. Shirley, who
was always glad to have her by her side,
was not less pleased. She laid aside her
book, and taking up her work, said, “Now
A VISIT FROM AUNT ELLEN. 85
then, Margaret dear, we can have a nice
chat together; what is that you are do-
ing?” -
“It is a bead purse, aunty, which Miss
Gregory has taught me how to make; do
you like it? I am so fond of bead-work.”
“It is very pretty,” said her aunt; “is
the purse for your mamma”
“O no, not for mamma,” replied Mar-
garet, “she has several purses. I cannot
tell you whom it is for yet, Aunt Ellen,”
she added, looking up with a smile.
They had not chatted thus many minutes
before Susan entered the room, and said,
“Miss Margaret, your mamma has sent
me to tell you that you have forgotten to
put any fresh flowers in the drawing-
room this morning; and she expects some
s: “
ladies to call rather early to-day.”
“Very well, Susan,” replied Margaret,
in no very gracious tone. - -
“Shall I ask Robins to bring you in
some flowers, miss?” said Susan.
“No ; I like to get them myself best,”
replied Margaret, in the same tone. She
was evidently put out by being sent to see
86 MARGARET CRAVEN.
about flowers just then. Susan left the
I’OOOO!.
“So it is still your task to arrange the
flowers, as it used to be at the Thatched
Cottage, Margaret,” said her aunt.
“Yes,” replied Margaret, still going on
with her bead-work, “Ada never does
them.”
“You were always so fond of the em-
ployment yourself, Margaret,” said Mrs.
Shirley, “that I should think you would
hardly wish to give it up to any one.
Surely you have not lost your taste for
flowers in the midst of this beautiful gar-
den.”
“O, no,” said Margaret, “I like them
as much as ever; but still I think Ada
might offer to help me; there are so
many vases and baskets to fill sometimes;”
and again she went on with her work.
In about five minutes she looked up, and
caught the glance of reproof from her
aunt's eye, which had once held such
sway over her. She immediately began
to put up her things; but it was full a
quarter of an hour from the time she
\,
A VISIT FROM AUNT ELLEN. 87
received her mother's message before she
left the room. In an hour she returned;
her eyes were red and swollen with weep-
Ing. -
“What is the matter, my love?” said
her aunt; “you have been crying.”
“Mamma has been so angry with me,
Aunt Ellen,” replied she, her tears again
falling. -
“Perhaps you deserved it, Margaret,”
said Mrs. Shirley, very quietly.
“I could not help the flowers not being
ready,” said Margaret; “I only stayed in
the hall a minute to play with the kitten,
and then somebody came, and went into
the drawing-room, and I could not get the
vases, and now mamma has been angry
with me about it.”
“But you remained in this room more
than ten minutes after your mamma sent
for you, Margaret,” said her aunt.
Margaret did not reply. Everything
seemed to go wrong with her for the
remainder of the day. Mrs. Shirley had
brought her a great many pieces for some
silk patchwork which she had begun, but
6
88 MARGARET CRAVEN.
noticing that Ada was also busy making
pin-cushions and needle-books, she gave
the packet between them, saying, that
they must divide it themselves. They took
it up into the school-room, and that even-
ing stood by the table looking over its
contents, which were spread out before
them. Miss Gregory was not there.
“I shall have that piece,” cried Ada,
seizing a piece of bright blue brocade,
“it will just do to make a needle-book for
my new work-box.”
“No, you cannot have that, Ada,” said
Margaret; “I want it for my patch-
work.” -
“But I will have it,” retorted Ada;
“it is as much my right as yours.”
“No, it is not,” said Margaret; “Aunt º
Ellen did not mean you to have any of
the pieces, at first; and you ought to be
contented with what I choose to give you.”
“No, I ought not,” returned Ada; “for
Aunt Ellen said we were to divide them
fairly between us; and if you do not let
me have that piece, I will go and tell her
this very minute.”

A VISIT FROM AUNT ELLEN. 89
“I don’t care,” said Margaret, “you
may tell her if you like;” and she snatch-
ed the disputed piece from Ada's hand.
As she did so, she turned toward the door;
and there, to her astonishment, in the open
doorway stood Mrs. Shirley.
If ever Margaret felt utterly ashamed of
herself, she did at that moment. She would
not have cared half so much if it had been
her mother. She would have looked very
angry, have scolded her for not letting
Ada have the silk, and there would have
been an end of it; but Aunt Ellen did not
look angry, she never, did look angry.
- Neither did she speak one word of blame;
she only took hold of her hand, and led
her out into the garden.
; Margaret walked tremblingly along,
expecting every moment that her aunt
would say something; but, on the con-
trary, she began to talk about the flowers;
and so Margaret comforted herself with
the idea that she had either not witnessed
the quarrel, or else that she considered that
Ada was wrong, and she right.
Mrs. Shirley occasionally begged per
90 MARGARET CRAVEN.
..mission of Miss Gregory to sit in the
school-room for an hour or two in the
morning, saying that it gave her great
pleasure to watch her little nieces at their
studies. It was Margaret's week to ar-
range the table. Ada was looking over
her lessons, which she never learned till
the last moment. Mrs. Shirley came in
with her knitting in her hand, and took
her seat at the window. Miss Gregory,
not being very well that morning, had not
yet joined them.
“Ada,” said Margaret, taking up Ada's
slate as she placed the books on the table,
“there is your sum not done, nor your
exercise either.
“O, dear!” exclaimed Ada, “what shall
I do? I do not quite know my lessons, and
that foolish exercise, I shall never get it
done; and Miss Gregory said I should not
go down to dessert if there were a single
mistake in it, and she will be here in a
minute.”
Fortunately for Ada, however, Miss
Gregory did not come quite so soon; she
had time to finish her sum, but the exer-
s
A VISIT FROM AUNT ELLEN. 91
*..."
Gise, which was one in geography, seemed to
puzzle her beyond everything. Margaret
saw her turn over first one leaf of her
atlas and then another, in her bewilder-
ment; but she had no objection that her
Aunt Ellen should see how superior she
was to Ada in some respects; and know-
ing, that if left to herself the exercise
- would be full of mistakes, she took no
notice of her troubled countenance, but
pretended to be very deeply engaged in
learning a French verb, which she knew
quite well the night before.
“You seem to be in great perplexity,
Ada,” said Mrs. Shirley, after a while.
“It is some time since I have written an
exercise; but, perhaps, if you will bring
your books and slate to me, I may be able
to help you a little.”
“O, thank you, Aunt Ellen!” said Ada.
“I cannot tell which map to look in for
these rivers.” But Aunt Ellen happened
to be able to tell; and so in a very short
time the exercise was completed.
Margaret did not feel comfortable, or
at all satisfied with herself that morning,
92 MARGARET CRAVEN.
Something in her aunt’s manner toward
her, told her that she had noticed more
than Margaret wished her to see. For some
days, indeed, ever since the affair of filling
the flower vases, she had had a sort of
dread, which she had never felt before, of
being left alone with her; but as time
passed on, and, though several other inci-
dents of the same kind occurred, no notice
was taken of them, she began to feel less
uneasy, and to think, as she wished to
persuade herself was the case, that her
aunt saw plainly that these little disagree-
ments arose entirely from Ada's selfish-
ness and bad temper.
She did not know that all this time
Mrs. Shirley was carefully studying the
position in which she saw her placed, in
order that she might, without being
severe or unjust, endeavor the more effect-
ually to use the influence which she felt
she still possessed over her, in correcting
those faults and blemishes in her character
which every day made more apparent to
her view, and more painful to her to wit-
IlêSS.
*
MARGARET'S CONFESSION. 93
CHAPTER VIII.
MARGARET'S CONFESSION.
MRS. SHIRLEY’s visit was fast drawing
to a close, but as yet she had said nothing
which could lead Margaret to suppose
that she had discovered the change which
had crept over her. But nothing is more
difficult than dissimulation to those who
have always been accustomed to act only
as they feel. It was so with Margaret,
and frequently, when she was not at all
aware that she did so, words, looks, and
actions escaped her, of which, had she
thought for a moment, she would have
been ashamed, but which did not pass
unnoticed by the eye of affection which
was now again dayly watching over her.
One day Mrs. Craven was going out
to make some calls, and intended to take
Margaret and Ada with her, but as her
Aunt Ellen was not very well, Margaret
petitioned to be allowed instead to remain
94. MARGARET CRAVEN.
at home with her. They chatted pleasant.
ly a while about old times, for Margaret
was never tired of making inquiries, and
listening to anecdotes of every person and
thing, animate or inanimate, which she
had left behind in her “other home,” as
she always called the Thatched Cottage.
“And my myrtle by the drawing-room
window, is that growing, Aunt Ellen ?”
said she, after she had inquired about the
welfare of almost every flower in her
garden. “O dear! I wonder if I shall
ever see it again.”
“I hope so, my darling,” replied Mrs.
Shirley; “if it please God to spare you
and me both for another year, I hope you
will come and stay with me.”
“O, Aunt Ellen, how glad I shall bel
Do you think mamma will let me stay for
a long time?”
“I hope so,” replied her aunt; “are
yºu sure that you shall be glad to come,
Margaret?”
“O, aunty how can you ask me,”
said Margaret, “when I love you so ?”
“Because, dear Margaret, Ihave thought
MARGARET's CONFESSION. 95
sometimes, since I have been here, that you
do not love me now so well as you once
did; if you did, I think you would not so
often do things which you know must
grieve me,” said Mrs. Shirley.
A sort of chill came over Margaret.
Eſer eyes fell as she answered in a low
voice, “I have not meant to grieve you,
Aunt Ellen.”
“But I have been grieved, much grieved,
Margaret, nevertheless, at many things
which I have seen,” replied her aunt.
“I know what you mean, Aunt Ellen.
You mean about the flowers that day, and
the pieces of silk, and Ada's exercise.”
“Yes, I certainly noticed these things
among others; but, Margaret dear, it is
not only the actions themselves which
have grieved me; it is the change which
I fear must have come over your heart to
produce them. I am afraid, my love, that
you have forgotten or much neglected
your promise to me that you would strive
earnestly to be one of God’s children, and
to serve and please him.”
Margaret's heart was touched. She
96 MARGARET CRAVEN.
burst into tears, and throwing her arms
round Mrs. Shirley’s neck, exclaim-
ed, “O ! Aunt Ellen, you don’t know
how wicked I have been, for this long
time. If you did, I don’t think you would
ever love me again.”
“I should love you, my child, the same
as ever,” said Mrs. Shirley tenderly, and
drawing Margaret toward her as she
spoke; “come, now, and tell me how all
this has come about, and how it is that
you are not quite the same Margaret that
you once were.”
“O, Aunt Ellen, I do not know how
to begin,” said Margaret, wiping away her
tears; “everything is so different here to
what it was when I was with you. It
does not seem as if I could be good.”
“You mean, my love, that you have
more temptations now to do wrong than
you had when you were with me ; but re-
member, Margaret, there is no sin in
being tempted. The sin is when we give
way to the temptation.” w
“Yes, I know that,” said Margaret;
“but Ada is so domineering, and vexes
MARGARET's ConFESSION. 97
and teases me so sometimes; and then
I—” - -
“And then you feel that you like to
vex and tease her in return.”
“Yes,” replied Margaret, half reluctant.
ly. “I did not at first; I used to help her
and give way to her very often, and then
we did not disagree nearly so much; but
nobody took any notice or seemed to think
it was good of me, and so I grew tired at
last of caring to keep friends with her.”
“Then you did good not so much for
the sake of pleasing God as from the
desire to get praises for it; was that it?”
Margaret was silent for a moment, then
she said, “I suppose it was, Aunt Ellen ;
but I did not think about it; yet I did try
to be good very often ; but somehow I al-
ways got bad again.”
“Perhaps, Margaret, you tried to be
good in your own strength; perhaps you
did not feel that you needed help, and
forgot to ask God for the aid of his Holy
Spirit to strengthen you in what was
right; and perhaps sometimes you resisted
his pleadings, and went on doing what
98 MARGARET CRAVEN.
was wrong in spite of the gentle voice
within you, telling you that it was so.”
Margaret's heart once opened, she told
her aunt, with all the freedom of by-gone
days, and without the least attempt either
at concealment or self justification, of the
many difficulties she had had to contend
with, and of her many backslidings; how she
had at first begun by giving way to small
temptations to do wrong, then to greater
ones, until at length she had grown quite
careless and negligent as to whether what
she did was right or not.
“And have you gone on reading your
Dible, all this time, Margaret,” said Mrs.
Shirley; “looking and trusting to Christ
for pardon, and praying for God’s help
and guidance?”
“No, Aunt Ellen,” replied Margaret,
sorrowfully; “I did read and pray at first,
but Ada teased me so, and laughed at me,
and told papa, and he laughed at me too,
and called me queer names, and mamma
said that the Bible was too difficult for me
to understand; and then I began to read
a little less and a little less, till at last I
MARGARET'S CONFESSION. 99
did not read it at all sometimes, excepting
a little bit on Sundays, just to say that I
had read it, when Ada was out of the
way; and then I said my prayers much
quicker, and did not try to think about
them, and what I should ask God for, as I
used to do.”
Mrs. Shirley saw the difficult position in
which poor Margaret was placed. She
hesitated a moment, and prayed silently
that she might answer wisely. Then she
said, “I see how it is, Margaret dear; you
have indeed many more temptations to do
wrong than you once had, but you must
try to overcome them. You must ask
God to help you not to mind being laughed
at, and to enable you to bear with humility
and meekness whatever may be said to
you. Your papa and mamma, dear Mar-
garet, think differently from me on these
subjects, but you must not on that account
love and honor them the less. All that
you can do at present is to pray that God
will bless them, and lead them to love
him, and, by the meekness, gentleness,
and humility of your own conduct, to
100 MARGARET CRAVEN.
show them the beaufy of the religion of
that Saviour whose child you would seek
to be.” n
“I do love papa and mamma,” said
Margaret; “I know that I ought to love
them better than anybody, for papa,
though he does laugh at me, is very kind,
and buys me a great many things, and so
does mamma; but I know they love Ada
better than they do me, and I cannot help
loving you better than I do them, Aunt
Ellen, I cannot indeed. Is it wicked of
me? I would not tell anybody but you.”
“I do not think that it is wicked, my
love,” replied Mrs. Shirley; “you have
not yet lived with your papa and mamma
so long as you did with me; when you
have, you may love them quite as dearly.”
“Still,” said Margaret, “I do wish I
might come back, and live with you again
at the Thatched Cottage. I was much
happier then, though we had not a car-
riage and a pony, and so many fine things.
I could come often and see papa, and
mamma, and Ada, you know.”
“You must not wish that, dear Marga-
MARGARET'S CONFESSION. 101
ret; for, however much I might like to
have you, I know that it is neither right
nor natural that you should be separated
from your parents and sister, even if they
would permit it, which I am quite sure
they would not. Besides, Margaret, you
must remember that God places us all in
those stations which it is best for us to oc-
cupy. If it were not for some right and
good purpose, you would not be here,
with difficulties to overcome, and tempta-
tions to withstand, any more than I should
be living alone in the Thatched Cottage,
often regretting that you are not still there,
to help me make clothes for the poor peo-
ple, in the long winter evenings, or to go
on Sunday afternoons to read the Bible to
poof old Goody.”
Margaret smiled at this allusion to her
old friend, and said, “Aunty, I wish I
had something to send Goody when you
go back.”
“Well, cannot you buy her something?
I recollect that before you came you were
afraid that you should have too much
pocket money. How have you spent it?”
102 MARGARET CRAVEN.
“Well, at first,” said Margaret, “I be-
gan to save it, and thought I would give
some to an old woman who weeds in the
garden, to buy her a new gown; but Ada
laughed at me, and mamma said that she
would give her a new gown if she wanted
one; and then I thought I would still save
it up for the Missionary Society, without
saying a word to anybody; but somehow
I did not do it, and I have spent it every
week ever since; that was not right either,
was it, Aunt Ellen º’” -
“You had power to do as you pleased
with your own, my love,” replied her
aunt; “still I think that if you had ap-
plied a part of your money, at least, to
good or useful purposes, instead of spend-
ing the whole on yourself, you would have
done right, and have felt more satisfaction.
What have you bought with it?”
“Only little things that I don’t care
anything about; and now I have not even
one shilling to send poor old Goody,” she
added, mournfully; “but I won’t do it
again, Aunt Ellen. I will save it until I
come to see you, if I cannot find anything
&
MARGARET'S CONFESSION. 103
3:
else to do with it; and then you will help
me to spend it, won’t you?”
“I dare say I shall feel no objection,”
replied Mrs. Shirley, smiling; “but per-
haps you may be able to find something
else to do with it before then.”
7
104 MARGARET CRAVEN.
CHAPTER IX.
MARGARET CONQUERS HERSELF.
IT is by no means so easy, when we *
have carelessly wandered into a wrong
path, to retrace our steps, as it would have
been, even though the task had proved
one of labor and difficulty, to have kept
in the narrow road from the first. Mar-
garet found that it was even so with her.
IHad she kept on steadily as she first be-
gan, she would have met with far fewer
difficulties than now beset her steps when
she again set forward.
Ada was less inclined to love her and
to think favorably of her than, notwith-
standing her many spoiled and selfish
ways, she had once been.
Miss Gregory, though she liked Marga
ret as an attentive and clever pupil, took
little or no interest in the moral or re-
ligious training of those committed to he
care, and was, therefore, not at all likely
MARGARET CONQUERS HERSELF. 105
either to understand or to assist her in the
struggles with herself, in which she was
again so often engaged.
Her father saw but little, and knew
less of her; while her mother, in whose
heart Ada undoubtedly held the first
place, quite lost sight, in the remembrance
of their former disagreements, and the un-
kindnesses of which her darling had so
often complained, of the dayly efforts
which Margaret was now making to please
and obey her, not only as regarded Ada,
but in many other little ways, which,
though hardly worth speaking of, would
yet have shown, to a careful observer, the
goodness and purity of motive which gave
rise to them. -
Thus weeks and months rolled on, bring-
ing, as far as outward appearances went,
but little change in Margaret's dayly life,
whatever change there was in herself.
Day by day she was learning, though by
slow degrees, to see how sinful and weak
she was, and therefore to trust less to her
own unaided strength, to seek more and
more for Divine teaching, and to lean
106 MARGARET CRAVEN.
more and more upon the Divine arm for
help and guidance.
At first she found it very difficult to
keep a constant watch over herself, to do
those things which she ought to do, and to
keep from doing those things which she
ought not to do. Often, sometimes con-
sciously, sometimes almost without know-
ing it, did she find herself giving way to
old tempers and feelings. Sometimes Ada
would say unkind and cutting things, and
Margaret would feel as if nothing would be
so pleasant as to retort, and sometimes,
when she had tried her utmost to quell
her rising passion, and to give a soft an-
swer or a kind action in return, Ada would
attribute it to some wrong or bad motive,
or receive ungraciously all her attempts
at conciliation, even when she knew that
she, and not Margaret, was in the wrong.
And yet, in spite of this, there were times
when Ada could not help feeling that she
was unjust toward Margaret, and could
not help liking her far better than she had
once done.
Ada's disposition was not naturally un-
MARGARET CONQUERS HERSELF. 107
kind, but unhappily it had been quite
spoiled and rendered selfish by the un-
bounded indulgence in which she had
been brought up. Occasionally, when
she was in a better mood, she would thank
Margaret for any little assistance bestowed
on her in her studies, or otherwise; and
these few words sounded so pleasantly
that Margaret at such times began to feel
toward Ada quite differently, and to make
allowances for her which at one time she
would never have thought of.
But Margaret had other sore trials.
She still had to see Ada caressed, admired,
and flattered, by all, while she was often
passed by unnoticed. She still had to
hear those things which she had always
been taught to hold most dear and sacred,
and which she knew were right and good,
made light of, or turned into jest and ridi-
cule, while she must sit by and hear all,
but say nothing. Often, in the silent
watches of the night, she would lie and
think of these things, then of her Aunt El-
len, and of how different her life had been
passed with her, until her pillow was wet
108 MARGARET CRAVEN.
with tears, and then she would lift up her
heart, in the name of Jesus, to her Father
in heaven, beseeching him to be her
friend; and at length comforted by the
thought that he was her friend, would fall
into sweet and refreshing slumber.
One day there came an invitation from
a lady, an old and valued friend of their
father's, for either Margaret or Ada to go
and spend a few days at her house. She
did not name which it was to be in her
note, saying that, as it was only convenient
to her to have one at a time, they must
settle between them which should come
first.
, Ada, who invariably thought of herself
before any one else, immediately begged
that she might go; but her father, who was
always particular that in such cases Mar-
garet should enjoy her right of precedence
as the eldest, and who happened at that
moment to be in the room, at once decided
against Ada. -
“No, Ada,” said he, “you must not
expect Margaret always to give up to you;
she is the eldest, and will certainly go to


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No. 634.
ADA'S ILL TEMPER DISPLAYED.
















MARGARET CONQUERS HERSELF. 111
Mrs. Ward's first, so say nothing more
about it.”
Mr. Craven did not often speak so de-
cidedly to Ada; when he did, she knew
that further dispute was useless. With a
pout on her lip, and a cloud on her brow,
she went off up stairs. In a short time
Margaret went up too. As she passed
along the passage she heard Ada's voice
from their bed-room, the door of which
stood open. Ada was standing with her
back to it, while Susan was smoothing out
her hair. “I think Margaret might have
offered to let me go first,” said she in a
voice which told that she was half crying;
“it couldn't signify to her, and I wanted
to go so very much.”
Margaret did not pause to hear Susan's
reply, but passed on to the school-room.
No one was there, and she sat down to think.
In about five minutes she again went
down to the library, where she had left her
father and mother. “Papa,” said she,
going up to him, “do you think Mrs.
Ward would mind whether Ada or I went
this time?”
112 MARGARET CRAVEN.
“What do you mean, Meggie” said
he, taking her hand.
“I mean, papa, do you think she would
mind if Ada went this time and I the
next, instead of my going first and Ada
afterward 7" -
“No, I think she would not, if you
would rather it be so; but what does
mamma say?” said he, looking across at
Mrs. Craven. - -
“Don’t you wish to go, Margaret?” said
her mamma; “I think it is very ungrateful
of you.”
“I didn’t mean to be ungrateful,
mamma,” replied Margaret, a flush com-
ing over her face; “but I know Ada
wants to go very much this time, if you
will let her.”
“Well, you are certainly a very odd
girl, Margaret,” said her mamma; “but
if your papa does not object to it, you
may settle it between you.”
“Thank you, mamma,” said Margaret,
and, with a kiss from Mr. Craven, she flew
off up stairs. q
“Margaret is certainly one of the
MARGARET CONQUERS HERSELF. 113
strangest children I ever knew,” remarked
her mother as she left the room; “there
is no understanding her; now what motive
in the world she can have for wishing
Ada to go instead of herself I cannot
imagine.”
“I believe it is nothing but pure good
nature which actuates her,” replied Mr.
Craven.
“Nonsense !” said his wife; “children
are not quite so fond of making sacrifices
for one another, depend upon it. How-
ever, she may do as she likes, for I know
there would be no peace in the house with
Ada if Margaret went first.”
But it was a sacrifice, nevertheless, little
as Mrs. Craven could understand it; for
1Mrs. Ward was one of the few people
visiting at her father's house whom Mar-
garet really liked. She had been an early
friend of her Aunt Ellen's, and from this
cause, as well as from a liking which she
had taken to Margaret, always took par-
ticular notice of her, showing her many
little kindnesses, for which Margaret could
not help feeling grateful and loving her.
114 MARGARET CRAVEN.
When she .entered the school-room, Ada
was there, looking the very picture of dis-
content. “Ada,” said she, going up to
her, “you are to go to Mrs. Ward’s.”
Ada's eyes sparkled. “Who said so?”
she replied; “we are not both to go, are
We 3’”
“No,” said Margaret; “but you are to
go first, instead of me. I have been ask-
ing papa and mamma, and they say you
may.” w
“But don’t you want to go, Margaret?”
said Ada, waking a little from her selfish-
IlêSS.
“Yes; but I do not mind whether I go
now or afterward,” replied Margaret.
“Are you sure you do not mind?” said
Ada.
“Yes, quite sure,” said Margaret, and
the bright smile which came over her
face showed that she spoke the truth.
Ada's proud little heart felt at first as if
she could hardly condescend to thank her,
but a better feeling came over her, and
going to her sister, she put her face as
though she would kiss her, and said in an
22
MARGARET CONQUERS HERSELF. 115
humble tone, “I am very much obliged
to you, Margaret; it is very kind of you
to let me go first.”
The tears were in Margaret's eyes. She
put her arms round her, and thought the
kisses which Ada gave her the most wel-
come she had ever received in her life.
Truly, at that moment, Margaret felt that
it is, indeed, “more blessed to give than
to receive.”
The next day being a holiday, she spent
nearly all the morning in helping Susan
to look out and pack up Ada's things.
“Dear Miss Margaret,” said Susan, “I
am sure I don’t know when I should have
got these things done if you had not
helped me so. Miss Ada's clothes do
want so much looking over and mending;
but there, you are so good always.”
“No, I am not good, Susan,” replied
Margaret; “you must not say that.”
“Well then, miss, if you are not good,
I should like to know who is,” said Susan.
“I should just like to know whether Miss
Ada would have given up to you about
going out, as you have to her.”
116 MARGARET CRAVEN.
&
“Perhaps she would not have thought
of it, Susan,” replied Margaret, exchang-
ing a sash, from Ada's box, for one of her
own, which was much better.
“Perhaps she would not have done it
if she had,” said Susan, bluntly. “No,
no, Miss Margaret, after all you can say,
Miss Ada isn't over fond of giving up to
anybody. She isn't over kind to you
either, miss, sometimes.”
“She is kinder than she used to be,
Susan,” said Margaret; “besides, you
must remember that Ada had always been
like the eldest, so it was no wonder she
did not like it when I first came.”
“Well, and I suppose you always had
been the eldest, Miss Margaret,” persisted
Susan, with whom Margaret was a great
favorite; “but there, it’s no use talking;
I know you always like to make excuses
for everybody if you can.”
While Ada was away, Margaret used
her utmost endeavors to do everything
which she thought would please her father
and mother, and succeeded so well that
her mamma, one day, showed her a new
MARGARET CONQUERS HERSELF. 117
cotton gown, which she said she had
bought for Nancy White, and which she
intended Margaret, as a reward for her
good behavior, to have the pleasure of
giving to the old woman the next time
she came to weed the garden. Margaret
would much rather that she had bought it
with her own pocket money, but still it
was a pleasure to her to give it, after all.
|BIer father, too, said she had been so merry,
and had laughed so often, that he had
hardly missed Ada at all.
Ada returned wonderfully delighted
with her visit; but as Margaret listened
to her glowing accounts of the pleasures
she had enjoyed, instead of being envious,
or regretting what she had missed, she
felt that in her endeavors to make others
happy, she had herself grown happy too,
and that within her heart had risen sweet,
though hidden, springs of enjoyment,
which no external circumstances could
destroy, and with which the fleeting
pleasures of which Ada too often thought
so much would bear no comparison.
118 MARGARET ORAVEN,
CELARTER X.
AIDA'S SICKN ESS.
“WELL, my little sober-face, and what
was the sermon about this morning?”
said Mr. Craven to Margaret, as she sat by
his side one Sunday evening after dinner.
“About a great many things, papa,”
was Margaret's reply.
“Well, but what was the text? I sup-
pose text and sermon are always pretty
much alike, are they not?”
Margaret looked in his face to see if he
really meant her to tell him the text; and,
as he appeared serious, she replied: “It
was in Matthew, papa, the Seventeenth
chapter and the fourth verse, ‘It is good
for us to be here.’” s
“Good for us to be here; that is rather
an odd text, I think,” said he ; “and I
doubt whether you are always of that
opinion, Margaret. It strikes me that now
and then you would think it much better
ADA’S SICKNESS. 119
to be with that Aunt Ellen of yours than
here, eh?”
“I should like to be with her very
much sometimes, papa; but I like to be
here with you too. Besides, Aunt Ellen
says that it is best for me, and that I
ought not to wish to be with her.”
“What! not to make frocks and jackets
for ragged children, and then teach them
to read and sing psalms? I am quite
surprised at Aunt Ellen; quite ashamed
of her.”
In this bantering way he went on
for some time; Mrs. Craven and Miss
Gregory occasionally joining in a laugh
at Margaret's expense. At length some-
thing was said which she thought touched
her Aunt Ellen too closely. She could
not bear it any longer, but, bursting into
tears, ran out of the room. -
“We have been a little too hard upon
her,” said Mr. Craven, after a while;
“and it strikes me that Margaret is not
one to be laughed out of anything. I
must go and find her, and make my peace
with her.”
120 MARGARET CRAVEN.
She was sitting alone in the school-
room, still weeping. He really loved her
tenderly, and was sorry for having thus
wounded her feelings. He sat down, and
took her hand, saying, “Come, come, Meg-
gie dear, wipe away these tears; I did
not mean to make you cry. Your Aunt
Ellen is a dear, good woman, and nobody
shall ever say a word against her. You
are quite right to love her as you do;
only I did not like to see you put on a
serious face. I like you to laugh and be
merry.” -
“It is not Aunt Ellen that makes me
have a serious face, papa.”
“No, no ; but you see she sets you to
Bible reading, and that sort of thing,
which is not fit for a little girl like you;
and that makes you look serious. You
have been reading the Bible this after-
noon, I know ; but I do not believe you
have understood what you read.”
“Not all of it, papa,” said Margaret.
“No, of course not; religion is all very
right, you know, for people when they get
old enough, but it is not fit for such young
ADA’s SICKNESS. 121
things as you and Ada to trouble your-
selves about.”
“But, papa, everybody does not live to
be old,” said Margaret.
“No, but a great many do. At all
events, I think you and Ada will. See
what rosy cheeks she has; and yours are
much fatter, and of better color than they
were.”
Margaret did not answer; but as her
father kissed her, and took her hand
to lead her down stairs again, a little
hymn, which her aunt had once taught
her, came into her mind.
“Within the churchyard, side by side,
Are many long, low graves,
And some have stones set over them,
On some the green grass waves.
“Full many a little Christian child,
Woman, and man lie there;
And we pass by them every time,
When we go in to prayer.
“They cannot hear our footsteps come,
. They do not see us pass;
They cannot feel the bright warm sun
That shines upon the grass.
8
122 MARGARET CRAVE:
“They do not hear when the g1 & Łell
Is ringing over head:
They cannot rise and come to church
With us—for they are dead.”
It was not many weeks after this cir-
cumstance, that Margaret and Ada One
evening had a little party at home, con-
sisting of the young people of about their
own age, whom they knew in the neigh-
borhood. Ada, as usual, played until
she made herself excessively hot ; and
not knowing how to get cool again, went
and stood by an open window in the con-
servatory, which adjoined the drawing-
room. Margaret, who was sensible enough
to know that this was very unwise, went
to her, and said:
“Do not stand here, Ada; you will
take cold, you are so very hot.”
“No, I shall not,” said Ada; and this
wind is so delightful. Do let me alone,
Margaret.”
- “Then have a shawl to put on,” said
Margaret; “I know mamma would not
let you stay, if she were here.”
“But mamma is not here,” said the self-
5
ADA's SICKNESS. 123
willed Ada; “there, I won’t stay more
than another minute, Margaret, if you
will only go away.”
Margaret went away, but Ada stayed un-
til she was, as she said, nice and cool; and
then went back and played again. In a
few days she had a violent cold and cough.
Her mother wondered how she could have
taken it. She was well nursed, and in
two or three weeks appeared quite well, ex-
cepting that the cough never entirely left
her; the doctor, however, said it would
go away in the spring, especially if they
were to take her to Devonshire or the
Isle of Wight. Mr. Craven, who, from
being much in India, enjoyed a warmer
climate himself, determined on spending
the summer in one of these places; and
finally fixed upon Devonshire. Ada's
cough soon left her; but Margaret was
disappointed of her promised visit to the
Thatched Cottage. This she bore as well
as she could; especially after being in-
formed by her aunt, in one of her letters,
that she should, very probably, join them
for a short time in Devonshire before they
*
124 MARGARET CRAVEN.
returned home. She did so; and on the
whole, Margaret had no reason to be dis-
satisfied with the enjoyment which the
summer had afforded her.
They returned home toward the end of
September, Ada appearing to be in per-
fect health, and looking more blooming
and beautiful than ever. About the mid-
dle of October, cold winds set in, and her
cough, without any apparent cause, re-
turned. At first she coughed only two or
three times a day, then more frequently,
then it began to trouble her occasionally
in the night, until at length her mother,
when the frost came, ordered a fire in her
bed-room. Even then it was no better,
and sometimes Margaret would get up
four or five times to give her things to
ease it.
Her mother began to feel a little anx-
ious about her, for sometimes, when she
came down of a morning, she looked thin
and pale; but she said she was quite well,
and toward evening her color would re-
turn, and she would seem as bright and
lively as ever, and then Mrs. Craven
ADA'S SICKNESS. 125
would look at her sparkling eyes, and feel
angry with herself for having fancied that
anything could be the matter with her,
But about Christmas time the weather
became intensely cold, and Ada, in ad-
dition to her cough, began to grow lan-
guid, and to complain of an occasional
pain in her chest and side. A doctor was
called in. He did not say what was the
matter with her, but Ada thought there
was no end to the questions he asked her,
and the orders he gave that she should
never go out in the cold air, not even in
the carriage.
Margaret was always a light sleeper,
and before long Ada's cough woke her
more frequently than ever. Still Mrs.
Craven, who could not bear the idea of
her darling being really ill, comforted
herself with the idea that it was only a
cough, and that when warmer weather
came it would go away. Before the
weather grew warmer, however, Ada grew
much worse, and although her appetite
was good, and the pain in her chest less
frequent, there was no mistaking her
126 MARGARET CRAVEN.
short breathing, and thin, wasted form, for
any other symptoms than those of real
illness. Sometimes she was confined
for a whole day to the sofa, and her moth-
er's looks would tell how anxious she felt;
but then, if any little excitement came,
she would brighten up and seem almost
well again, and then Mrs. Craven would
smile at her fears, and once more declare
that after all it was “only a cough.”
One morning (Ada had been very ill
that night) Margaret happened to go
down stairs just as the doctor was going
out. He shook hands with her, and told
her she must take all the care she could
of her sister.
“Will Ada get well soon, sir?” she
asked. -
“People can never get well in such
cold weather as this, Miss Margaret,” said
he, shivering as a cold gust blew in at the
open door; “wait till the violets and
nightingales come, and I will tell you
another story then. Good-by,” he add-
ed, nodding and Smiling, “you will get
cold yourself if you stand here, and then I
ADA'S SICKNESS. 127
shall have two patients instead of one ;”
and he closed the door behind him. Mar-
garet passed on into the breakfast-room;
her mother was sitting by the fire, weep-
ing. She stood still for a moment, not
knowing whether to advance or not.
“Go away, Margaret,” said Mrs. Cra
ven, without looking up. -
“Mamma,” said Margaret, “is there
anything the matter, anything about Ada?
will she be better soon?”
“Yes, I hope so,” replied her mother;
“go up stairs, Margaret.”
Margaret would have given worlds to
have thrown herself upon her mother's
neck and have wept with her, but she
obeyed her and left the room, and from
that moment the thought took possession
of her mind that Ada would die. When
she went alone into the drawing-room in
the evening, for Ada was too poorly to
leave her bed at all that day, she saw that
her mamma had again been weeping, and
that her papa looked sad and serious. He
began to talk about going into Devonshiro
* again, and said he wondered how soon
128 MARGARET CRAVEN.
the doctor would consider Ada fit to bear
the journey.
For the next few days, however, the
little invalid was so much better, that he
laughed, and said he was sure, after all,
the doctor had raised a false alarm ; but
the improvement was only transient, and
at length poor Ada was confined entirely
to her own room, the medical attendant for-
bidding, until the weather became warmer,
even the slight change of atmosphere she
would experience in going down stairs.
No word was ever breathed before her
as to the possibility of her not getting
well again. On the contrary, her recovery
was spoken of by every one as certain. »
Her father would come in and lay plans
about what they would do, as soon as she
was well enough to go into Devonshire.
Her mother, thinking to amuse her, would
encourage her to talk about new frocks,
and ribbons, and bonnets, and sometimes
her eye would sparkle, and her cheek
grow bright, as of old; but at others she
would listen languidly, and appear rest-
less, uninterested, and uneasy.
ADA'S SICENESS. 129
Margaret often wondered whether her
papa and mamma really thought that Ada
would get better, or whether she thought
so herself, but she never said anything;
indeed, the idea of death seemed almost
too awful for her even to think of to her-
self, much more to speak about to oth-
€I’S.
On account of Ada's illness their Christ-
mas holidays had been lengthened consid-
erably, Mr. Craven not thinking it worth
while for Miss Gregory to return as long
as she was so ill, and Margaret therefore
spent most of her time in her sister's
room. She liked to be with Ada, al-
though, poor child, she was often very
pettish, impatient, and fractious, finding
fault with things which were done only
with the view of giving her ease and com-
fort. Even Susan, though most good na-
tured, could not at times refrain from
being a little put out by her constant
murmurings.
But Margaret was never put out; she
would listen patiently to all her com-
plaints, getting her everything she asked
130 MARGARET ORAVEN.
for, not only without murmuring at the
trouble she gave her, but with such readi-
ness and cheerfulness, that Ada, much ac-
customed as she was to indulgence, could
not help noticing it herself. Margaret
did not know this until one day, when
Susan did something which did not please
Ada, she heard her say, “You are not a
bit like Margaret, Susan; she never grum-
bles at me, and never scolds me. I like
her to cut my Oranges for me a great deal
better than you.”
The tears came into Margaret's eyes at
this testimony, which Ada was not at all
aware that she heard. After that, it was
a pleasure to her to comply even with her
most unreasonable demands. She was
always at hand whenever Ada wanted
her, and seemed, by a sort of instinct, to
know better than any one else, how to
manage her, and how to amuse her, when
she wanted amusement. She was the
only one who did not keep constantly tell-
ing her that she would get well; but Mar-
garet never talked much when others were
present, and so this was not noticed.
MARGARET IN THE SICK-CHAMBER. 131
CEIAPTER XI.
MARGARET IN THE SICK-CHAMBER.
IT was Sunday evening, Mr. and Mrs.
Craven were down stairs at dinner, Ada
was lying on the sofa by the fire, with
Margaret sitting at her feet.
“Margaret,” said she, “what are all
those little books about, in that corner of
your top drawer?” -
“They are books that Aunt Ellén gave
me,” replied Margaret; “some of them are
little story books.” .
“Are they pretty ?” said Ada.
“Yes; this one is very pretty indeed,”
replied Margaret, getting up and taking
one out of the drawer; “it is about a little
girl who was ill like you, Ada.”
“Is it? I wish you would read it to
me. I feel as if I should like to go to
sleep, and reading makes me do so some-
times.”
Margaret willingly complied. Ada did
132 MARGARET CRAVEN.
not go to sleep, but when she had listened
for a quarter of an hour exclaimed, “Did
she die, Margaret?” -
“Yes,” replied Margaret, “at the end
of the book.”
“Then what did you begin to read it
to me for?” said Ada. “I do not want to
hear any more. I cannot bear to hear
about people dying.”
“She was very happy, Ada dear,”
said Margaret gently.
“I do not care, I do not want to hear
about it,” said Ada, almost pettishly, and
Margaret closed the book and put it away.
The next Sunday afternoon they were
alone together. Ada was on the couch,
and Margaret on the ottoman by her side.
“Read me something, Margaret,” said
Ada. -
“What shall I read, dear?” said Marga-
ret.
“One of those stories out of that new
story book papa bought me the other day,”
replied Ada.
“But I do not think that it is a Sunday
book, dear Ada,” said Margaret, very
MARGARET IN THE SICK-CHAMBER. 133
gently; “it would not be right to read it
to-day, you know.”
“Papa did not say.it was not a Sunday
book,” replied Ada in her old pettish
manner, “and you have no right to set
yourself up against him.”
“I did not mean to do that, Ada, but
papa did not say.it was a Sunday book,”
replied Margaret.
“Well, you are very disagreeable,”
said Ada, in the same tone in which she
had before spoken ; “I wish I could sit up
a little better without coughing, I would
read a story for myself.”
There was silence for a little while :
Ada closed her eyes, Margaret sat with
her head on her hand looking at her, and
apparently thinking about her; then she
said, (it was the first time she had ever
made such a proposal, and she had to
summon up all her courage to do it now,)
“Ada dear, I wish you would let me read
something to you out of the Bible, about
Elijah being fed by the ravens, and then
by the poor widow woman;” she added,
after a pause, “I am sure you would like it.”
134 MARGARET CRAVEN.
Ada moved her lips; Margaret could
not tell whether she said “yes,” or “no,”
but taking up her Bible, she found the part
which she had mentioned, and in a low,
sweet manner, peculiar to herself, began
to read. After a time Ada opened her
eyes and watched her as she read on.
When she had finished she said,
“That is very pretty; is all the Bible as
pretty as that, Margaret?” *
“No, not all of it,” replied Margaret,
hesitating; “but Aunt Ellen used to say
that we ought not to read the Bible only
because it is pretty.”
“What ought people to read it for
then?” said Ada.
“To learn how to serve God, and how
to be saved, and to get to heaven, when
they die,” answered Margaret.
“If people are good they are sure to go
to heaven,” said Ada.
“But you know, Ada, nobody is quite
good. The Bible says, “There is none.
righteous, no, not one,’ and ‘All have sin-
ned; so nobody can go to heaven because
he is good.”
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MARGARET IN THE SICK-CHAMBER. 137
“How, then,” said Ada, “can any one
go there ?”
“The Bible says it is by believing in
the Lord Jesus Christ, who died to save
sinners.” Margaret paused, looking at
Ada.
Ada returned her glance with a look
which seemed to say that she did not at
all understand what she meant, even now ;
but some one happening, at the moment,
to come into the room, further conversa-
tion, for that day at least, was prevented.
138 MARGARET ORAVEN.
CELAPTER XII.
MARGARET IFADS AIDA TO JESUS.
THOSE about Margaret, who saw how
unceasingly she watched and tended Ada,
little supposed that her mind was occupied .
with any other thought than that of re-
lieving the bodily sufferings of the poor
little invalid, or that her gentle ministra-
tions were guided by aught but sisterly
affection toward her. They did not know
(for, indeed, there was no one to whom she
could speak about it) that within her heart
had sprung up an intense desire that poor
Ada might be led into the way of life and
peace, through that Saviour whom she
had herself learned to trust, to love, and
to Serve.
None but God knew how often and
earnestly Margaret's heart was lifted up in
Ada's behalf in simple prayer, that God
would teach her, by his Spirit, to believe
in Jesus, that thus she might be forgiven, .
MARGARET LEADs ADA To JESUS. 139
and received at last into the bright and
glorious kingdom which he has prepared
for those that love him.
One day, not long after the conversation
related in the last chapter, Mrs. Craven,
being obliged to leave home for a few
hours, went out, leaving Ada to the care
of Susan, and telling Margaret to amuse
her while she was gone. Susan went down
stairs to prepare some little thing for her,
leaving Margaret by the bedside. Ada's
face was hidden under the clothes, and
Margaret, thinking she was asleep, and
that her breathing would be obstructed,
gently removed them. She was not asleep,
She was weeping, a thing by no means un-
COIIll]] OI).
“Ada dear,” said Margaret, affection-
ately, “what is the matter? Do not cry.”
Ada lifted up her head. “Is Susan
here ?” she asked. x
“No,” said Margaret, “but I will call
her in a moment.” g
“No, don’t,” said Ada ; “I do not want
her. I want to speak to you, Margaret.
Q, Margaret,” she continued, sobbing, “I
9
140 MARGARET CRAVEN.
am so unhappy; I do not think I shall ever
get any better.”
“God can make you better, Ada dear,”
said Margaret, “if it pleases him.”
“Yes,” said poor Ada; “but I do not
think he will. I think I am going to die.
O! Margaret, what shall I do? I wish I
had been good like you; I should not be
afraid then.” \
“I am not good, Ada; indeed I am
not,” said Margaret earnestly. “You do
not know how wicked I am very often,
Ada.”
“No, you are not,” said Ada. “I am
sure if you were to die you would go to
heaven.” • *
“If I were, it would be only because
Jesus has died for me,” replied Margaret;
“and you will go too, Ada dear, if you
believe in him, and love him.” -
“But I have never been good,” persist-
ed Ada; “I have often told stories, and
been ill-tempered, and unkind to you, and
laughed at you for minding what Aunt
Ellen said, and done other bad things be-
sides.”
MARGARET LEADs ADA to JESUS. 141
“But God will forgive you, Ada, if you
ask him, for Jesus Christ's sake,” said
Margaret. “You know the Bible says, as
I told you, there is not anybody in the
world quite good. If people had been
quite good, Jesus need not have come to
die for them.” -
Ada raised herself upon her pillow as if
she expected Margaret to go on, but find-
ing she did not, she said:
“What does it mean about Jesus dying
for us, Margaret? I know he was cruci-
fied, but I don’t know why.” -
“Do you not know, dear Ada,” replied
Margaret, “that Adam and Eve did what
God told them not to do, and so sinned
against God? Since then, their children,
and everybody in the world, have been
sinful, and all have deserved to be pun-
ished forever, because they are sinners. I
can repeat a verse that says so : “By one
man sin entered into the world, and death
by sin; and so death passed upon all men,
for that all have sinned.” Rom. v., 12. But .
God had compassion, and sent ‘his Son
Jesus Christ’ to save them. The Bible
142 MARGARET CRAVEN.
says, “God so loved the world, that he
gave his only-begotten Son, that whoso-
ever believeth in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life.’
“Do you mean, then,” asked Ada,
“that everybody would have been pun-
ished if Jesus had not died instead º'
“Yes,” answered Margaret; “and so
will all people now who do not believe on
him and love him.”
“But suppose Jesus does not love them,”
said Ada. “I do not think he loves me,
Margaret,” she added, looking into Mar-
garet's face. -
“Yes, he does, dear Ada,” replied
Margaret; “Aunt Ellen has often told me
that he loves everybody, and will save all
who come to God by him. Pray to him,
dear.”
“But, Margaret, I do say my prayers to
myself very often now, but I don’t feel a
bit happier.” -
Margaret tried to explain to Ada, as
well as she knew how, and in the gentlest
and tenderest manner, that she might not
hurt her feelings, that saying prayers and
MARGARET LEADS ADA To JESUS. 143
praying were very different; that it was
one thing to repeat words with the lips,
and another to pray with the heart, though
the lips might not have power so much
as to move. She tried to speak to her, too,
of the infinite love and compassion of the
Saviour, and repeated from the Scriptures
some of his invitations to sinners to come
to him and live.
It was the first time in her life that Ada
had ever been spoken to in this way. She
had, doubtless, heard the same truths in
church, but never with any heed or desire
to understand what they meant. She now
listened to them as to a thing she had
never been told before, seeming to drink
in almost with astonishment every word
that Margaret uttered. From this time
Margaret was in her room more than ever.
Ada never seemed easy when she was ab-
Sent. *
Mrs. Craven could not help observing
this, and felt almost jealous that she should
sometimes seem to prefer having Marga-
ret by her side even to her. She consid-
ered it, however, as one of the whims inci-
144 MLARGARET CRAVEN.
dent to illness, and while she remarked to
herself the increasing patience with which
her darling endured her pain and suffer-
ing, little supposed she had learned to do
so from the simple teaching of the quiet,
gentle sister whom she loved so much to
see by her side. -
Ada still continued to fluctuate, ap-
pearing sometimes better and sometimes
worse, as she had done from the com-
mencement of her illness. One day when
she was very ill, but lying on the sofa, her
mother came in and sat down beside her.
Margaret was on the sofa at her feet.
“My precious Ada,” said her mother, ,
“how glad I shall be when we can get you
into warmer air. You will soon be better
then.” g
“Do you think I shall ever get better,
mamma” said Ada, with a searching
look.
“Get better, my darling!” repeated
Mrs. Craven; “ of course you will; what
should hinder you from getting better?
You will be quite well when the spring
comes.”
MARGARET LEADS ADA To JESUS. 145
“But the spring is coming now, mam-
ma,” said Ada, quietly; “see, Margaret
has brought me some primroses this
morning; and the spring always comes
with them, you know. No, mamma
dear,” she added, looking up in her moth-
er's face, “I do not think I shall ever get
better; I do not think I shall be here when
the roses come.”
“Ada, my child, you must not talk
so,” said her mother; “indeed you will
get better soon. You are very poorly to-
day. There, let me shake up your pillow,
and you will feel brighter when you have
had a little sleep.” -
Ada hid her face in her pillow. After
a time she appeared to be sleeping. Mrs.
Craven rose very softly and beckoned
Margaret out of the room.
“Margaret,” said she, “is it you who
have put these notions into Ada's head?”
“No, mamma,” replied Margaret, al-
most weeping, “indeed I did not. Ada
told me, ever so long ago, that she did not
think that she should get better.”
* “If she says anything of the kind
146 MARGARET CRAVEN.
again,” said her mother, “I desire that you
will immediately begin to talk of some-
thing else. No wonder she should seem
So poorly to-day, poor child, if she had
such dreary thoughts in her head.”
“But, mamma, if Ada should die,”
said Margaret, the tears running down
her cheeks as she spoke.
“She will not die,” said the mother,
with passionate earnestness; and hasten-
ing away to her own room, she closed the
door, and burst into an agony of bitter and
murmuring grief. -
Margaret stole softly back to the sofa.
“I was not asleep,” whispered Ada; “read
me some verses out of the Bible, Mar-
garet.” -
Ada's sick-room was not the first that
Margaret had ever been in. She had often,
in by-gone days, accompanied her Aunt
Ellen in her visits of mercy to the sick and
afflicted, and had often listened while she
read to them from the word of God. She
remembered that the fourteenth chapter
of the Gospel by John was a favorite
chapter with her on these occasions. She
MARGARET LEADS ADA TO JESUS. 147
opened her Brble, and read part of it to
Ada. -
“O Margaret,” said Ada, “I should
not be afraid to die, if I thought Jesus was
preparing a place for me.”
Margaret's pent-up tears now flowed
forth. She threw her arms about Ada,
and said: “Ada, dear Ada, he is preparing
a place, a mansion for you, and all who
love him ; and you love him now, Ada,
don’t you?”
“I try to love him,” said Ada, “and I
think I do sometimes; and then some-
times I think I would so much rather live
than go to him, it seems so hard to me
to have to leave papa and mamma, and
you, Margaret, now I love you so dearly.”
Margaret wept bitterly, kissing Ada
again and again; then she said, “But
Jesus knows you cannot help it, Ada, and
if you ask him he will teach you to love
him more than anybody.”
“I wish I could,” said Ada. “Mar-
garet, do you really think that Jesus has
forgiven me?”
“O ! Ada, how can you ask me?
148 MARGARET CRAVEN.
Don’t you remember how he forgave
all people who were sorry for their sins,
and looked to him when he was on earth,
even the poor thief? and he is just as
kind now, we know.” -
“Yes,” said Ada, “so he is, but some-
times I forget that; and I think that when
I stand before the great throne, and he
asks me what I did when I was on earth
to show that I loved him, I shall not be
able to say a word; because, you know, I
never have loved him all my life, or done
anything to try to please him like you.
Aunt Ellen taught you to love him when
you were quite little.”
“Yes,” said Margaret; “but I did not
love him either for a long time. See how
º
wicked I was after I came here. I did not
try to please him the least bit.”
“But you tried more than I did,” replied
Ada; “and now I cannot do anything.”
“Yes you can, dear Ada. I have often
heard Aunt Ellen tell people who were ill,
that if they tried to follow his example,
and bear their pain patiently, and not mur-
mur, he would account it quite as much
MARGARET LEADS ADA TO JESUS. 149
done for him as if they were well, and
could do other things.”
“I never thought of that before,” said
Ada; “it is very kind of him.”
“I think,” Margaret went on, “that Aunt
Ellen meant, that God never expects
people to do more than they are able;
and that if they are patient, and gentle,
and unmurmuring, it is all they are able
to do, and so he will be pleased with them
accordingly.”
“I think I understand it,” said Ada.
“Margaret, how glad I am that you came
here; I think it must have been God who
sent you on purpose to teach me. Kiss
me, Margaret; I will try to go to sleep now.
I will try to be patient. Remind me,
Margaret, when you see me get cross and
murmuring.” -
Margaret kissed her; and as she saw a
sweet slumber steal over her weary eye-
lids, while a soft smile played around her
yet beautiful lips, she thought of her Aunt
Ellen’s words, that God had taken her
from her quiet home in the Thatched
Cottage, and placed her where she now
150 MARGARET CRAVEN.
was, for some wise and good purpose of
his own, and she lifted up her heart and
thanked him for his goodness, in having
enabled her to be a help and comfort to
poor Ada; and then she thought how
pleasant it would be if Ada would get
better, and live on, and love her as she
did now, and she prayed earnestly that
she might get better. But when she
recollected how many things there would
be to tempt her, and to lead her astray
from the right path, it seemed to her as
if her wish were a wrong one, and she
prayed again; but this time only that
whether God saw fit for her to recover or
not, he would at last take her to live with
him forever, and permit them, if they
might not continue together on earth, to
love each other again and for evermore
in heaven.
A GUILTY MOTHER. 151
CHAPTER XIII.
A. G. UILTY MOT EI E. R.
BRIGHT sunshine at length visited the
hedgerows and mossy banks, adorning
them with the wrinkled leaves and pale
blossoms of the primrose, and the delicate
flower of the graceful harebell, while here
and there, in sheltered nooks, peeped forth
violets blue and white, making their pres-
ence known, like that humility of which
they are the emblem, only by the sweet
fragrance which they cast around. The
cuckoo was heard in the woods; the lark
again rose above the green fields, singing
as he soared; the honey-bee was once
more on the wing; the butterfly had burst
its dark winter shroud, and sported glad-
somely in the bright sunny air; and
pleasant sights and pleasant sounds were
abroad in the earth. But Ada was not
abroad to see or to hear them. Paler,
weaker, more wasted than ever, she still
sº
152 MARGARET CRAVEN.
lay upon her silk couch, and Margaret
still sat by her side, performing, with ever
ready and gentle hand, each little office
that she might require. -
Mrs. Craven was not in the room so
constantly as she had been at first, for she
often went away to weep, to weep bitter
and repining tears. It was no longer pos-
sible for her to hide from herself the fact
that Ada would die—yes, Ada, her pride,
her darling, the child on whom she had
built her strongest and brightest hopes.
Worldly pleasures were nothing to her
now. From the attempted consolations
of her worldly friends she turned in dis-
gust.
But there was no resignation within
her, no submission to the will of God;
her heart knew no feeling but that of bit-
ter, repining grief. It was not hers to
look upward, and with the eye of faith to
behold the bright home already prepared
for her child; it was not hers to say with
believing trust, “I shall go to her, but she
shall not return to me;” no, nothing was
before her but the one terrible certainty
.e.
A GUILTY MOTHER. 153
that she should lose Ada; the terrible
words, “Ada will die,” were ever sound-
ing in her ears, and ringing their doleful
knell in her heart.
As to Mr. Craven, he came to see Ada
every evening when he returned home,
and, if she were not asleep, every morning
before he went to his dayly engagements.
Eſe, too, saw that she was dying, but he
tried to drive the thought from his mind,
resolved, if possible, not to believe so ter-
rible a truth until it was actually forced
upon him.
But to Ada, the thought of death was
no longer terrible. Not unheard had been
Margaret's many earnest prayers, not un-
answered the feeble and broken petitions
which had risen from her own heart.
Hard had been the struggle which the
love of life and the dread of death had
awakened within her. It was long ere a
believing view of the Saviour brought a
calm over the troubled waters of her soul;
but at length it came, and led by his
heavenly teaching, (for save the simple in-
structions of Margaret she had no other
154. MARGARET CRAVEN.
guide,) she was at length enabled to rest
sweetly on that gentle Saviour who loves
to gather his lambs in his arms, and to
carry them in his bosom.
It was only to Margaret that Ada could
find courage to speak of these things. She
often wished to do so to her father and
mother, but could not. At length, one
day, her mother came into the room when
Margaret was reading to her; she had a
new book in her hand.
“What is that you are reading to Ada,
Margaret?” said she.
“‘The Pilgrim’s Progress,” mamma,”
replied Margaret; “Ada asked me to read
it.”
“You should not read such dull books
as that to her,” replied Mrs. Craven. “See,
Ada, love,” she continued, “Lady F. has
been in to inquire after you, and has
brought you this book full of funny pic-
tures to make you laugh.” "
“Thank you, mamma,” said Ada, tak-
ing the book without opening it, “but I
do not want to laugh now, it hurts me so,
and I like to hear about Christian and his
A GUILTY MOTHER. 155
troubles very much ; it makes me forget
the pain in my chest sometimes.”
“You are a dear, patient little angel,”
said her mother, fondly kissing her.
“No, mamma, I am not an angel, be-
cause angels are quite good,” said Ada,
“ and I am not patient either, very often,
mamma. I wish you would read to me
sometimes.”
“Well, my darling, so I will whenever
you like,” replied her mother; “shall I
read to you now one of these stories?”
“No, mamma, not that ; Margaret will
tell you what. I will not hear any more
about Christian now. Will you find the
place in the Bible about the beautiful city,
and give it to mamma 7"
These were two of Ada's favorite
chapters, (Rev. xxi, xxii;) she could not
understand the whole of them, but those
parts which she did understand she knew
almost by heart, so often had Margaret
read them to her. Margaret opened the
Bible and gave it to her mother, and for
the first time in her life, Mrs. Craven’s
voice was employed in reading the word
10
156 MARGARET CRAVEN.
of God to her children. At first it falter-
ed, but at length she grew calm. Ada
closed her eyes and listened; when the
chapters were finished, she opened them
and said:
“Mamma, I think I am very soon going
to live in that beautiful city.”
Mrs. Craven hid her face and wept al-
most convulsively. She had never before
thus given way in Ada's presence.
“Mamma,” said Ada, reaching out her
little white hand, “mamma, do not cry
so, do not cry; I am not afraid to go, in-
deed I am not.”
“Ada,” said she at length, “my own
darling, Surely you do not wish to go away
and leave me.”
“No, mamma,” replied Ada, quite
calmly, “I do not want to leave you, and
yet I think for some things it is better to
die than live ; and if God calls me I must
go, you know ; and we shall be separated
only for a little while ; you, and papa,
and Margaret, will come, soon, and then
we shall all be there together.”
“But, Ada, my darling,” said her mother,
A GUILTY MOTHER. 157
still weeping, “you would rather get bet-
ter and live.”
“No, I do not think I would,” replied
Ada, in the same low, quiet voice, “not
now. I wished very much to get better
once, but that was before Margaret told
me about the Lord Jesus, and how God
would forgive me, and take me to heaven
for his sake. No, I do not wish to get
better now, mamma, only to stay with
you; for if I did, perhaps I might be
tempted to grow wicked again, and to for-
get God.” *
“You never were wicked, my Ada,”
said her mother; “you were always good.”
“No, mamma, I was not,” replied Ada;
“I have often disobeyed and vexed you,
and been unkind to Margaret, but she has
forgiven me, and you will too, will you
not, mamma’’
“My darling, do not talk so,” said the
weeping mother; “what shall I do if I
lose you?”
“But, mamma dear, you will not lose
me. It will only be for a little while, and
then you will come, come to me; you
158 . MARGARET CRAVEN.
know if—if you love Jesus, mamma, he
will prepare a mansion for you; and,
mamma, I will watch for you by the gate
of the golden city, for you, and papa, and
Margaret. Yes, you will all come.”
Mrs. Craven again wept. Ada whisper-
ed something to Margaret, who left the
room ; then after a few minutes she said:
“Mamma, will you be angry if I say
something?”
“How could I be angry with anything
you say, my Ada 7" replied her mother.
“What is it, my darling?”
“I-only wanted to say, dear mamma,”
she continued, throwing her thin arm
round her mother's neck, “that I think if
people want to go to heaven, they must
not love the things of the earth too much,
because, you see, mamma, there is not
time for us to do all that God wants us to
do, and to amuse and please ourselves so
very much too. Mamma, you cannot
think how different everything seems to
me to what it used to do. It does not
seem as if anything was of any consequence
at all but loving Christ and getting safe to
A GUILTY MOTHER. 159
heaven; because you know, mamma dear,
we only stay upon earth such a little
time, but we shall live afterward forever
and ever.”
“Ada,” said her mother, “I have been
very wrong, but you must live, my darling,
and teach me how to do better.”
“No, mamma,” said Ada, “I am not
good enough to teach you. Besides, I
Know I's must go when God calls me, but
God will teach you himself if you ask
him. And Margaret, mamma, you will
love Margaret, will you not? O, mamma,
Margaret is a great deal better than I am.
She always has been, only you loved me
best because you had never been parted
from me.”
“Yes, Ada, I did love you best,” said
her mother, “and perhaps that is why
God is going to take you from me.”
“I don’t know,” said Ada; “but now
you will love Margaret for me and herself
too, will you not? Mamma, if it had not
been for Margaret I should never have
known anything, I should never have
known how to get to heaven;” and ex-
160 MARGARET CRAVEN.
hausted with the long talking, she sank
back on her pillow and closed her eyes.
“Should never have known how to get
to heaven.” Ada little thought the pang
of bitter self-reproach which shot through
, her mother's heart at those few words.
Was it so 2 Had she then, while so care-
fully nurturing, and tending, and adorning
the beautiful outward body, while so
ceaselessly watching over the worldly and
temporal interests of her child, forgotten
or utterly neglected to nurture, beautify,
and train aright the immortal spirit with-
in 2 Yes, such was the sad truth which
those few short words had revealed to her;
and with a heart tried by remorseful feel-
ings, which still rose up in proud rebellion
against God, Mrs. Craven retired to her
chamber. $º.
ADA'S DEATH-CHAMBER. 161
CHAPTER XIV.
ADA’S DEATH CEIAMBER.
AFTER this, Ada faded rapidly. Her
pain left her, and her cough became much
less troublesome; but still she faded.
One evening, when she had been sleeping
much longer than usual, she awoke sud-
denly, and seeing Margaret, said, “Mar-
garet dear, ask Susan to fetch mamma,
but do not go away.”
“I am here, love,” said Mrs. Craven,
standing by the bed. .*
“And papa,” said Ada, “I want papa
too. I want to kiss him.”
Mr. Craven soon came, and sitting down
by the bedside, put his arm under the
pillow, raising her a little, as he was
wont to do.
“Papa,” said Ada, turning her brilliant
eyes upon him, “I love you so very much;
kiss me.”
“My darling,” he said, as he stooped
... ~.
162 MARGARET CRAVEN.
forward and kissed her, “how are you to-
night?”
“I am very happy,” said Ada; but her
voice was exceedingly low : it sank almost
to a whisper as she added,
“Papa, may I ask one favor of you?”
“Yes, my love,” he replied; “what is
it, Ada?” .
“When I am dead,” she continued,
speaking quite calmly, “will you never
laugh, at Margaret for liking to read the
Bible, and to go to church, and to do good
things? and, papa,” and here she paused
a moment, as if uncertain whether she
might go on, “sometimes—sometimes—on
a Sunday afternoon, if you have time, will
you let her read it to you as she has done
to me? It will remind you of me, you
Rnow ; she can read to you about the
beautiful city where I am going to live.”
Mr. Craven hid his face, and wept like
a child, but Ada was still perfectly calm.
“You remember what I told you, mam-
ma, do you not ?” said she, stretching out
her hand to her mother; “how I would
watch for you at the gate? Margaret,
ADA'S DEATH-CHAMBER. 163
you will remind mamma sometimes, will
you not? and you will always think of me
when the primroses come; and now I will
Kiss you all, and bid you good-night,” she
added, “before I go to sleep.”
They all kissed her, and she again set-
tled herself upon her pillow. Mr. Craven
was so overcome that he went away. Her
mother and Margaret still stayed by her.
In about a quarter of an hour they thought
she was sleeping; but soon after she opened
her eyes, and said, dreamily, “Mamma—
Margaret—remember—I shall be there
watching for you. Do not be long. Jesus
will be there too;” and then she closed
her eyes again: they heard a gentle sigh,
and thought she was again sleeping; and
so she was, but it was the long, last sleep.
Angels’ wings had long been hovering
around her, and now, passing thus gently
and peacefully, had they borne her ran-
somed and purified spirit to the beautiful
and heavenly city in which she had so
longed to dwell. '
For days Mrs. Craven would see no
one; Mr. Craven, too, shut himself up in
164 MARGARET CRAVEN.
his room, Margaret being the only person
permitted to go in and out, and even to
her he dared trust himself to say but little.
Their Ada, their beautiful Ada, was gone.
Neither beauty, nor riches, nor love had
been able to keep her from the iron grasp
of death. She had faded as a flower be-
fore their eyes; all their efforts to save
her had proved unavailing.
Mrs. Craven made no secret of her re-
bellious feelings; she could not see the
dispensation, she said. She could not see
why Ada should have died. She had
everything to make her happy in this
world; why, then, should she have been
taken from it?
Mr. Craven did not speak in this way;
but so utter a stranger was he to the ways
in which God often sees fit to deal with
his erring creatures, and thus to draw them
to himself, that the language of his heart
was, in all probability, almost the same.
The only difference between them was
that, although he had unquestionably
thought more of Ada than of Margaret,
yet he loved her fondly too, and thus
ADA'S DEATH-CHAMBER. 165
his heart was not left quite without an
idol. -
Poor Margaret, she too felt very lonely
and sad indeed! She missed Ada for her-
self, as one whom she had learned to love
dearly and tenderly; she missed perform-
ing the thousand little offices which she
had required of her every day, almost
every hour of the day; she missed having
no one to watch, and to think about, and
to care for; and, more than all, she missed
the sweet words of peace, and truth, and
hope, with which the last weeks of Ada's
young life had been beautified.
There was a little Testament which Ada
had been accustomed to keep beneath her
pillow, and in which, although she was
unable to read herself, she constantly
made Margaret mark any little passage
which struck her, or which she liked par-
ticularly. A few days before her death
she had made Margaret promise that she
would give this Testament to her papa.
She had now been dead two or three days,
and yet Margaret had been unable to do
so; indeed, she could not find courage even
166 MARGARET CRAVEN.
to mention Ada's name to her father; so
fearful was she of again breaking open the
floodgates of his sorrow. Sometimes she
thought that she would take it to her
mother, and ask her to give it to him;
but then she had promised Ada to do so
herself, and this thought deterred her.
So she carried it about wherever she went,
until a fitting opportunity might, as she
hoped, occur.
She went very often to look at Ada,
frequently many times in one day. She
knew where Susan kept the key of the
room, and so she used to take it, and go
in without saying a word to any one.
Ada looked so calm, peaceful, and beauti-
ful, that, although she had never seen
death before, she could not help feeling a
strange kind of pleasure in gazing upon
her. -
One afternoon—it was the day before
that appointed for the funeral—she went
out to look at the little gardens which had
belonged to her and Ada. They were
untidy and overgrown with weeds, for she
had no heart to do anything to them for
ADA'S DEATH-CHAMBER. 167
the last few weeks. She stooped down to
pull up some chick-weed which was chok-
ing a root of double violets which she
remembered Ada had planted the spring
before, and, in so doing, saw that her
monthly rose-tree, which she had also
planted, and which stood in a sheltered
corner, had on it a single opening blossom,
the first rose of summer. She recollected
what Ada had said about being gone be-
fore the roses came, and gathering it, with
a few lilies of the valley from her own
garden, formed them into a bouquet, and
returned straight to the house.
She went up stairs without meeting any
one, not even Susan. Then taking the
key from its hiding-place, she unlocked
the door, and entered into the room, clos-
ing it softly behind her; that room, which
she had once shared with Ada, but which,
when that night was passed away, would
contain Ada's form no more. There stood
the white coffin, but as yet tenantless, for
Ada still lay upon the bed, looking, Mar-
garet thought, as she silently unpinned
the curtain, and removed the handker-
168 MARGARET CRAVEN.
chief from her face, more happy and
beautiful than ever. She placed the rose
and the lilies in her bosom, once more
kissed the snowy brow, around which the
long, brown ringlets still fell, then sat
down by the bedside, and looked at her.
Her back was to the door. She heard
some one open it softly, and come in, but
thinking it was Susan, who often followed
her in in this way, she did not look round.
But soon she felt a hand upon her shoul-
der. It was her father's; and, for the first
time, he and she together gazed upon Ada
since her death. Margaret threw herself
into his arms, and burst into tears. He
kissed her tenderly, and, still putting his
arm round her, sat down.
“So you are not afraid to come and
look at poor Ada, Margaret,” said he,
when she had wiped away her tears, and
with one arm round his neck stood by
him, gazing at the pale form before her.
“Afraid, papa? no,” said she; “how
can I be afraid!” -
“Some people are afraid even to look
upon death, Margaret,” said he; “but you
2.
ADA'S DEATH-CHAMBER. 169
don’t seem to know what fear is. What
were you thinking of when I came into
the room ?”
“I was thinking, papa, how very beau-
tiful Ada will be at the resurrection.”
“What do you mean, Margaret?” said
her father, starting a little at words which
he evidently did not expect to hear.
“Well, papa, you know we shall then
all have bodies given to us much more
beautiful than those we now have; so only
think how very lovely Ada will be, and
how glad we shall be when we see her
again.”
Mr. Craven was silent for a minute or
two; then he said, “Where did you learn
all this, Margaret?”
“Papa,” she replied, “Aunt Ellen
taught me; but it is all in the Bible; all
about the resurrection, and Jesus coming
again; it is in the fifteenth chapter of
first Corinthians. I do not quite under-
stand it all; but I used to read it to Ada
sometimes, and she liked it very much.”
“You think Ada is gone to heaven,
then, Margaret?” said her father, as if
170 MARGARET CRAVEN.
he wished to see what answer she would
make.
“O, papa!” she replied, looking at him
as though to read in his countenance if
he had the least doubt, “I am sure of it,
quite sure of it. What should we do,
papa, if we were not sure?”
“I do not know, Margaret,” he replied.
She felt awed at the solemnity of his
manner; then, taking Ada's little Testa-
ment from her pocket, she said timidly:
“Papa, this is Ada's Testament. She
told me I was to be sure to give it to you;
and to tell you that the verses she liked
best are where the marks are. This is
the chapter I told you about. See, Ada
marked that herself. Papa, would you
mind reading a little of it to me?”
“I would rather that you read it to me,
Margaret,” he replied, and his voice was
thick and husky as he spoke; “let me
hear you.”
She obeyed; and there, in the mute
presence of the dead, read with a calm,
low, steady voice, from beginning to end,
the sublime chapter from which she had
ADA'S DEATH-CHAMBER. 171
drawn the comforting assurance of which
she had spoken.
“Margaret,” said he, when she ceased,
“do you understand all that?” -
“No, papa; there are some verses
which I cannot understand at all.”
“And yet you like it,” he said.
“I like what I do understand,” said
Margaret; “do you not, papa?”
“Margaret,” said he, taking the lit-
tle Testament in his hand, “you are yet
but a little girl, but you know far more
than your father, who has lived so long in
the world, and who ought to have been
able to teach you. I thank God that in
your Aunt Ellen you have had a better
teacher; and I make you this promise
here before poor Ada, who asked it of me,
that I will never again laugh at anything
you do or say. Go on as you have begun,
Margaret. Whatever I may think my-
self, my desire for you is, that you may
never be led to forsake those truths,
which I now see are alone able to give
peace in the hour of death, or true conso-
lation to those whom we leave behind.”
& 11
172 MARGARET CRAVEN.
Margaret leaned against his bosom, but
did not speak for some time; at length
she said, but without looking up, “Then
you will read Ada's Testament, papa?”
But he did not reply; he only kissed
her again tenderly, and left the room.
Weeks passed on, but the violence of
Mrs. Craven’s grief seemed unabated; at . .
length it brought on a dangerous and
alarming illness. For many days, almost
for weeks, her life hung as it were upon
a thread, which any moment might be
snapped asunder. To Margaret's great
joy, her Aunt Ellen, whose presence was
always welcome wherever she went, but
more especially in the house of mourning,
was again their guest. She devoted the
greater part of her time to Mrs. Craven;
and during those long, dark hours of sick-
ness, of sorrow, almost of despair, so gently
did she probe the cankering wound, so wise-
ly did she administer counsel, advice, and
consolation, that the proud spirit was at
length, by God’s grace, bent and softened
beneath her patient teaching; and when,
after many months of suffering, Mrs.
Ö
•
ADA'S DEATH-CHAMBER. 173
Craven once more emerged from her sick-
chamber, it was with a heart, which,
though it still felt the rents which sorrow
and suffering, both bodily and mental,
had left behind them, was, in a measure,
bound up and healed.
Margaret's gentleness and affection
had in no small measure conduced to
this, and every day both her father and
mother found her winding more closely
round their hearts, and more than supply-
ing the place of her whom they had lost;
and Mrs. Craven, instead of any longer
repining that God had taken Ada to him-
self, learned to thank him for so doing, in
that he had not only saved her child from
the pomps, and Vanities, and temptations
to which she would have been exposed
in this wicked world, but that also, by
this stroke of his afflicting rod, she had
herself, though bitter had been the lesson,
at length been taught to set her affections
on things above, and not on things on the
earth.
As Margaret grew up she no longer
needed to oppose the wishes of those dear-
174 MARGARET CRAVEN.
est to her in following out those principles
which her beloved Aunt Ellen had first
planted in her heart; and though she still
occasionally met with temptations to for-
sake the narrow path, which she had early
learned to tread, she was, by God’s grace,
enabled to withstand them, and to con-
tinue with all lowliness and meekness, to :
walk worthy the vocation where with she
was called. The Thatched Cottage she
ever continued to look upon as her second
home, and never visited it without thank-
ing God for the instruction.she had first
received beneath its roof.
And now, dear young reader, farewell.
Should this simple history of Margaret's
trials and temptations, and how she was
enabled to overcome them, prove useful
to any who may be seeking to tread the
same narrow path, it will not have been
written in vain.
We have endeavored to describe her as
she was, not as she was not. Her numer-
ous faults and failings show her far from
perfection, and how, as long as she leaned
gº ADA'S *ATH-CHAMBrre. 175
*
©
upon her own strength, * to seek
Divine aid and guidance, she was utterly
unable to overcome them. While her
Subsequent steadfastness and taightness
amid many temptations, ..": traced
entirely to that gracious assistance which,
by earnest prayer, and by constant watch-
fulness over herself, she sought and ob-
tained. *
To those who are apt to set too great a
value upon personal beauty and external
advantages, poor Ada's death-bed may
show how utterly valueless are these to
bring peace at the last. Beauty, talent,
and wealth are all of them God’s gifts,
and to be valued accordingly ; but the in-
ner Beauty of the Heart, even the giftº
and graces bestowed by God's Holy Spirits.
and cultivated with an earnest desire, on:
our part, to please him, is that alone
which can stand the test of life, of death, e.
and of eternity.
T II E E N D.
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