^1^\\^>J^'^ 
 
 ■-^ 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ^ 
 
 w^ ^
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD.
 
 DOWN WA R D 
 
 AND 
 
 UPWARD. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 'THE CLIMBERS." •' PAUL VENNER," *" PURPOSE," "THE GABLED HOUSE." ETC 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 N. TIBBALS & SONS, 
 
 124 Nassau Street. 
 
 1884.
 
 Kntcied, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 
 
 CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER, 
 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAN & SON.
 
 T3 
 99/ 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGH 
 
 Chapter I. — First Steps . , . 13 
 
 II. — After the Ball 24 
 
 III. — What WILL People SAY OF Us ? . . * Z3 
 
 IV. — Looking Forward 42 
 
 V. — Helping the Doctor 52 
 
 VI. — Rest and Toil 63 
 
 VII. — Back through THE Years . . , .74 
 
 VIII. — An Unexpected Meeting .... 82 
 
 IX. — Over THE Farm ...... 91 
 
 X. — The Sick Chamber 100 
 
 XI. — Family Jars no 
 
 XII. — Coming Events 118 
 
 XIII. — Characters . . , .• . . .124 
 
 XIV. — Foiled ....... 131 
 
 XV. — Searching Out 138 
 
 XVI. — Culminating 151 
 
 XVII. — Into THE Light 157 
 
 xi 
 
 622/.'^7
 
 Xii CONTENTS, 
 
 »AGB 
 
 Chapter XVIII. — Shifting Sands 163 
 
 XIX. — Leaving Home 176 
 
 XX. — Evil Purposes AND Plans . . . 186 
 
 XXI. — The Burden of a Great Sorrow . 194 
 
 XXIL— BllAVINGTHE LA<V . . . . 204 
 
 XXIII. — Seth White goes to the Theatre . 220 
 
 XXIV. — Going and Coming .... 230 
 XXV. — Conclusion 241
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FIRST STEPS. 
 
 DI ! Di ! Where has that girl gone?" and Kate 
 Delafield threw herself into the luxurious arm- 
 chair, her curls half-dressed, and her cheeks flushed 
 with passion. 
 
 " Let Rachel dress your hair. Di has gone to 
 Ellen's room." And Mrs. Delafield spoke in a 
 soothing tone. 
 
 ''That 's the way it always is. Di knows very well 
 that no else can dress my curls: she does it just to 
 show her power ; and I want to look particularly well 
 to-night!" 
 
 "A candid confession, Miss Kate. Ha! ha!" 
 
 "Just shut up. You've no business here," and 
 Kate turned to her brother, a tall, rather agreeable- 
 looking young man, eying himself in the pier-glass, 
 and very complacently stroking the down on his 
 upper lip. 
 
 " Go down, Cyrus ; Kate is in no mood for teasing/' 
 and Mrs. Delafield struck the bell. "Tell Di to come 
 here." 
 
 2 13
 
 14 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " Here comes Di. That 's a good girl ; make haste 
 with Kate's hair." 
 
 " I would like to know the use of you, any way ? " 
 and Kate's voice was choking with passion. 
 
 * !IIen sent for me," was ansv/ered in a gentle 
 tone. 
 
 " That 's it. If you were not here, we could have 
 somebody to depend upon." 
 
 A bitter rejoinder was on Di's tongue, and the quick 
 blood mounted to her forehead. A second thought, 
 and her lips closed firmly ; taking the brush, she 
 smoothed the hair with a gentle downward motion, 
 and turned the curls one by one over her finger. 
 
 While Di is arranging the luxurious mass of sunny 
 curls, we will take occasion to say that the family 
 we have so unceremoniously entered is considered 
 one of the wealthiest in the city. Accustomed to 
 luxurious surroundings from her cradle, Mrs. Dela- 
 field did not pride herself upon her wealth. Gladly 
 would she have flung aside her robes, and remained 
 at home ; but, for her daughters' sake, this must not 
 be : and thus the naturally quiet woman flashed her 
 beauty on the crowd as she did her diamonds, for 
 the simple reason that others did. 
 
 Not so Kate Delafield : the oldest daughter, and 
 endowed with beauty of no common order, she ap- 
 preciated her position, and determined to make the 
 most of her father's wealth. Agnes was not far from 
 her own age, a girl of more intelligence and less 
 physical beauty. Each in her ov/n style well fitted 
 to draw a crowd of admirers. This was their first
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 1 5 
 
 season, and a brilliant one it promised to be. The 
 night in question there was to be a magnificent ball, 
 and several notables were expected ; and this was no 
 doubt the reason why Kate desired particularly to 
 look her best. 
 
 Of the sons, Jared and Cyrus, little could be said 
 save that they were young men of pleasure bent 
 upon enjoyment, as they called it, and never think- 
 ing but their father's wealth would buoy them up and 
 along the years, in whatever capacity it suited them 
 to move. 
 
 " I wonder if Jay is to go with us," and Mrs. 
 Delafield swept through the folding-doors, elegantly 
 dressed in moire silk, with a point-lace shawl thrown 
 carelessly over her shoulders. 
 
 *^ Indeed, Di, there is magic about your fingers. 
 No wonder Kate thinks Rachel will not answer," 
 and the mother looked proudly into the beautiful face 
 of her child, now radiant with blushes and laughter. 
 
 Di gave one quick glance at the mother's face, 
 and a little sigh crept up to her lips. She was not 
 thinking of the ball, the elegant dress, and the 
 attention sure to follow. She had never known a 
 mother's love, and she thought what a bliss it would 
 be just for one such look. 
 
 *' Next year, and you can go with us, perhaps," as 
 Mrs. Delafield noticed the serious face. 
 
 " Not till I 'm out of the way," and a little musical 
 laugh trilled through the room. Tears were in Di's 
 eyes, but she hastily shook them off, and began 
 lacing the white bodice.
 
 l6 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 "That will do;" and Kate stepped back, and 
 looked at herself. " No ; let that moss rosebud 
 droop a trifle more. Now for my gloves and bouquet. 
 What say you, mother?" and the beauty turned 
 with a graceful bow. 
 
 "Charming! I have never seen you more be- 
 comingly dressed." 
 
 " Where 's Jay ?" and Agnes's voice was heard in 
 the hall. 
 
 " You will not see him to-night : he 's other fish to 
 fry," and Cyrus laughed good-humoredly. A ring 
 of the door-bell, and Mr. Flashman's card was sent 
 up. The carriage was in readiness, and they had gone, 
 leaving Di standing before the grate, her elbow rest- 
 ing on the mantel, and her eyes riveted on the glow- 
 ing fire. A moment, and the tears coursed down her 
 cheeks, while her figure trembled with emotion ; then 
 raising her head, she slowly brushed them aside, 
 arranged the room, and withdrew to Ellen's apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " I am glad that you have come," and the thin 
 arms clasped Di's neck, while a small face nestled 
 close to her own. " It has been so long." 
 
 " I know, darling." 
 
 " Mamma just came in for a kiss. I wanted to see 
 how pretty Kate and Agnes looked," said the little 
 grieved voice. 
 
 " It was late before I could dress Kate's hair. We 
 will not think any more about it. Shall I sing to you 
 one of our hymns ? " 
 
 " Do, please," and the pale face brightened.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 1/ 
 
 The voice was sweet and clear, and while Di sung, 
 Ellen's eyes closed. 
 
 Won by the singing and also by a desire to see his 
 child, Mr. Delafield entered the sick chamber. 
 
 " Poor little girl. Is she asleep ? " and he kissed 
 the pallid lips. 
 
 " No, papa ; I was just thinking. Di says there 
 won't be any pain there. Everybody will be happy ; 
 won't it be nice, papa ? " and she nestled her face still 
 closer to her father's. 
 
 ** We must be happy here, child." 
 
 " But we can 't be, papa. There are so many things 
 to make us feel badly. The days are so long : I cry 
 sometimes, and so does Di. Don't you, Di ? " 
 
 " That 's when I 'm tired a little," and a light blush 
 crept up to Di's cheek. 
 
 There was deep tenderness in the father's heart 
 Ellen had been a pet with him, a bright, healthy 
 child. Last winter she was prostrated with a severe at- 
 tack of scarlet fever, and since her life has vibrated 
 upon a single thread, — occasionally able to go into the 
 drawing-room, at other times confined to her bed. 
 Since her illness she had become greatly attached to 
 Di ; and the father's heart went backward. Years ago 
 he had taken his family on a visit to a neighboring city. 
 When they reached the depot, and the crowd stepped 
 from the cars, it was ascertained that one little girl 
 remained for whom there was no claimant. She was 
 apparently three or four years old, and see .ned to be 
 of English parentage. Knowing this, Mi . Delafield 
 was greatly interested in the issue ; and when he ro 
 
 2* B
 
 l8 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 turned to New York, this little neglected child went 
 with him. Gladly would he have adopted her as one 
 to be treated in all respects as his own daughter; but 
 this was not easy to be effected, and he contented 
 himself with knowing that she enjoyed the same ad- 
 vantages, and her musical talent was not neglected. 
 
 With a beautiful face and a manner strangely win- 
 ning, it was not Kate's plan to have her enter society; 
 and Ellen's illness, and her great love for Di, rendered 
 a ready excuse to detain her at times. Added to 
 this, Di herself did not appear to mind it. With 
 fine artistic taste, she was found to be indispensable 
 in hair-dressing, trimming dresses, and arranging 
 flowers, and on this account Kate and Agnes patron- 
 ized her at times, and chided her at others, driving 
 her still more frequently to Ellen's room, and lead- 
 ing her to depend more upon her own thoughts, and 
 her books, and music, than upon the social influences 
 around her. 
 
 ** Ellen must go to sleep now; papa has to go out," 
 and Mr. Delafield started up, once more kissing the 
 pale cheek, giving Di a few kind words, and telling 
 her not to sit up late. 
 
 Overcome with fatigue, Ellen's eyes soon closed. 
 Leaving her with Rachel, Di went down into the 
 parlor and opened the instrument, hardly knowing 
 the reason she was sad. A few months previous she 
 had, to please Ellen, dressed up in the fashion of 
 other days. Going to an old closet, she found a suit 
 of child's clothes beautifully made, and of exquisite 
 material. Not dreaming of the history connected
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. I9 
 
 with them, she dressed a small child that chanced to 
 be a visitor, greatly to the amusement of the invalid. 
 Suddenly Mr. Delafield entered the room, and his 
 exclamation brought out the truth, — they were the 
 garments Di had worn when found in the cars. With 
 tears she removed them, letting her fingers fall ca- 
 ressingly over the silken folds. Old as they were 
 they were still very handsome, and in no wise below 
 the style of the family she was now in. Not a day 
 since but she looked at them, and as she looked there 
 came thoughts of a mother's love; perhaps her own 
 fingers had fashioned the dress, and Di fancied the 
 delight she must have felt. Then came the mystery 
 of her loneliness ; could it be that her mother had 
 deserted her ? And, if suddenly separated from her, 
 what sorrow that mother must have known. 
 
 The more she thinks, the more impenetrable it is ; 
 and leaning her head on her hands, the tears fall si- 
 lently. Di's tears are like the April rain; gloom 
 is not the element of her nature. She has been 
 told that life is a discipline, something needful to fit 
 the soul for its higher development. 
 
 Almost unconsciously her fingers press the keys, 
 and a strain is evoked that has power to touch her 
 heart. Running out on this sweet, mellow adagio, 
 Di grows calm; she forgets the present, and no 
 longer thinks of the past. Somewhere in the future 
 she is sure there is a heart beating for her, — a mother's 
 arms once more to clasp her. It is real, and this 
 reality gives her coura^|^ Time passes ; the music 
 swells out now loud aiHrclear. then soft, low, melt-
 
 20 DO WN WA KD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 ing, — the plaint of a heart burdened with a great sor- 
 row. Too sad to think ; but she can sing, and her 
 heart is lighter, happier. What a blessed gift; lift- 
 ing the heart up to heavenly resting-places. There 
 was a step, a shadow between her and the fire- 
 light. 
 
 " Why, Jay! you frighten me. I thought you at the 
 ball." 
 
 ** Hush ! Are they all gone ? " 
 
 " Your father was the last." 
 
 "And Rachel?" 
 
 " She is with Ellen." 
 
 " You are sure father has gone ? " 
 
 " I am sure." 
 
 " Now tell me, Di, where is mother's key ? I have 
 been to her room : it is not in the desk." 
 
 " What do you want to do with it ? " 
 
 " To be honest, I must have some money." 
 
 " It is not a week since your mother gave you a 
 large roll of bills." 
 
 " What of that : I need more." 
 
 " It is wrong to use money so ; you ought not to 
 have any more." 
 
 "Don't begin to preach: but come, like a good 
 girl, get me the key." 
 
 " I do not know where the key is, and, if I did, I 
 would not get it for you." 
 
 " You may as well, for I shall have it. Come, Di, 
 I am sure you know where it is." 
 
 " If I do, it will not profy^ou." 
 
 " Dear me ! you act as tlrotgh I was going to take
 
 nOlVNWARD AND UPWARD. 21 
 
 something not my own. I only anticipate a little. It 
 belongs to me.'^ 
 
 ** No, Jay, it does not belong to you. It is not 
 right to allow one child so much more than another." 
 
 '* Cyrus is not as old as I am, and the girls spend 
 more on their fine dresses than I do. But what is 
 the use of talking. Come up-stairs, like a good girl, 
 and give me the key." 
 
 " That I will not do." 
 
 " Very well. If it 's wrong, you know of it; and if 
 there is anything said, I will bring you in as an ac- 
 complice." 
 
 " You will not do any such thing ; you will not 
 dare to do it." 
 
 " Not dare ! " and Jay crossed the room. 
 
 With a spring, Di confronted him. " I beg you, 
 Jay, do not go to her writing-desk. Wait till morn- 
 ing, and then ask her for it." 
 
 " I want it to-night. To confess the truth, I lost 
 all I had at one throw, and now I am determined to 
 win it back ; that I can't do, unless I have something 
 to begin with." 
 
 " Just to-night, Jay," and Di grew bold, laying her 
 hand on Jay's arm, and looking into his face plead- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Whew, girl ! your eloquence makes you a regu- 
 lar beauty. I never knew before how really pretty 
 you are. * No wonder, Kate," and Jay bit his lip and 
 turned on his heel. " It's getting late ; and the 
 money I must have." 
 
 " I will not see you ta^ it," and Di seated herself
 
 22 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 at the piano. The charm was gone ; tears were in 
 her eyes. Jay had always been kind to her, taking 
 her part when his sisters were overbearing. Years 
 ago, the summer they spent in the country, there 
 was a grand picnic in the woods. They were enjoy- 
 ing themselves in various ways, when suddenly Kate 
 grew angry at something unintentionally done on 
 her part, and taunted her with having no right to 
 be there. Passionate, with a heart full of angry 
 thoughts, she only longed to hide away by herself 
 A small stream separated them from a deep wood ; 
 a log spanned it, and twice during the morning had 
 she crossed it. She attempted it now : her eyes 
 were full of tears, her head was unsteady ; she could 
 not see the water was not deep ; but it was rapid, 
 and, before she was aware, she had fallen in. Jay did 
 not laugh as he drew her out, bearing her tenderly in 
 his arms to a sunny glade, removing her shoes with his 
 own hands, and comforting her with his words. And 
 now, if she could only do as much for him. " If he 
 only felt the necessity of doing something for him- 
 self," she said, half aloud. " As it is, his father gives 
 him a liberal allowance every week, and his mother 
 makes up for every deficiency ; and what he cannot 
 beg, he is willing to take by stealth." 
 
 " You need not feel so badly ; I did not take but 
 
 half of what I found there," and Jay held up a roll of 
 
 bills. " I knew mother had plenty; she always has." 
 
 " Promise me not to play to-night, Jay." 
 
 " I will play to-night; and, more than that, I will 
 
 win back what I lost the &^x night."
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 23 
 
 " Oh, Jay! if you do not stop, it will ruin you ; it 
 will ruin all of us." 
 
 " Say no more, and see that you don't tell." 
 
 " I have nothing to tell." 
 
 " Good-night, little preacher. It's worth while to 
 get your blood up. Zounds ! a regular little beauty. 
 I'd do it again, only I have n't time now." 
 
 Going back to Ellen's room, Di opened her book. 
 Mr. Delafield had recommended it; and not till the 
 sound of carriage-wheels was heard on the pavement 
 did she lay it down : she would not let him know that 
 she had neglected his advice, and, turning down the 
 light, she slipped into bed, blessing the author for the 
 happiness his pages had afforded her.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AFTER THE BALL. 
 
 IT was a late hour when the family met for break- 
 fast, and the ball was discussed in a manner that 
 proved, however brilliant it might have been, there 
 was no abiding happiness to follow. Kate com- 
 plained of a headache. And Agnes found it stupid 
 to dance all the time ; she liked a little conversation 
 between the sets. 
 
 " I should think you indulged in it, for that matter. 
 I really cannot see what you find in Stanton; and 
 especially since you have learned a little of his past 
 life," said Cyrus, in a sarcastic tone. 
 
 "I have not learned anything to his disparage- 
 ment," returned Agnes, warmly. " I don't see why 
 it is. I never do have a friend that the rest of you 
 seem to think anything of" 
 
 *' Your friends have the rare charm of looking for 
 something that they have not, never had, and never 
 will have, I hope," and Cyrus threw himself back in 
 his chair, and laughed provokingly. 
 
 Kate was busy talking over the beaux, discussing 
 dresses, compliments, and eatables in a tone that left 
 it difficult to know whether she had enjoyed or only 
 endured them. Di's was the only happy face there. 
 
 24
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 2$ 
 
 A cheerful smile playing about the rosy lips, and an 
 eye quick to anticipate the wants of each. Lan- 
 guidly, Mrs. Delafield sipped her coffee; while her 
 husband sat opposite, seemingly absorbed in the 
 morning paper. Laying it aside, he turned to 
 Rachel, 
 
 *' Has Jay been down this morning ? " 
 
 *' I have not seen him, sir." 
 
 A telegraphic look passed from Cyrus to Di, but 
 not too quick to escape the father's notice. 
 
 " Do you know anything of his movements ? 
 Was he at the ball ? " 
 
 " No, father," Agnes replied ; " he said that he had 
 an engagement." 
 
 A troubled look gleamed on the mother's face, 
 while an appealing glance shot over to her husband. 
 
 " The way that boy goes on will ruin me. I have 
 paid several of his bills within the last few days. 
 With more money every week than some men require 
 to set them up in business, I cannot see, for my life, 
 what he does with it. Two thousand dollars to a liv- 
 ery-stable ! It does not seem to me possible. I am ter- 
 ribly afraid the boy gambles." 
 
 One by one they left the table. Mr. Delafield sat 
 alone : moodily he resumed his paper. A sliding 
 step was on the stairs, and the door opened. 
 
 " Ten to one everything is cold." 
 
 " Your own fault, if it is ; you should have been 
 here in time," and the father confronted Jay. " Give 
 an account of yourself, young man. Where were you 
 last night ? " 
 3
 
 26 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " I had an engagement that kept me up late, and 
 overslept myself this morning in consequence of it." 
 
 " Of course you had ; but I would like to know 
 who it was with. You are too much inclined to 
 hang round a set of fellows that can do you little 
 good. If I find you gaming, sir, your funds will be 
 cut down suddenly." 
 
 There was anger in Mr. Delafield's voice, and Jay's 
 face was burning with passion. At this instant Ellen 
 came in, half led, half supported by Di. 
 
 " Papa, I am glad to come down this morning." 
 
 " And papa is glad to see you, darling. Did you 
 sleep well last night ? " clasping the invalid in his 
 arms. 
 
 " Di sung me to sleep ; and I dreamed about 
 people dressed in white, with wings and golden 
 crowns. It was beautiful. I almost wanted to be 
 there, papa." 
 
 " Papa's little girl does not want to leave him ? " 
 and the father nestled the little one still closer to his 
 bosom. 
 
 " Di learned all about it at school ; and when she 
 goes to church, she comes back and tells me what a 
 beautiful place there is all ready for us when we go 
 away from here. They never feel badly there ; they 
 are never sick. I am glad ; ain't you, papa? " 
 
 " Papa does not like his little girl to think so much 
 of these things. He wants to see her very happy 
 all the time. Is there anything she wants to-day ? " 
 
 " You are good, and I love you, papa ; but you 
 can't make me well again. I have such a pain in
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 2/ 
 
 my head and here," laying her thin hand upon her 
 breast. 
 
 " But when spring comes, and the flowers and 
 the birds, then papa hopes to see his little girl well 
 and strong." 
 
 ** Then I shall go to church with Di. Will you go 
 with me, papa? sometimes, you know." 
 
 " Perhaps papa will take his little girl away to the 
 springs or to the mountains ; and when she comes 
 back, she will be able to dance over the house, just 
 as she used to do." 
 
 "But if I don't, papa?" 
 
 " You must think that you will." 
 
 ** You are a dear, good papa; and I should not be 
 happy up there without you." 
 
 Jay set back his chair, hardly touching his break- 
 fast. 
 
 ** You have not kissed me good-morning," said 
 Ellen, seeing him about to leave the room. " You 
 never come to see me." 
 
 " It is because I am/ afraid of disturbing you ;" and 
 Jay came back and kissed the little wasted cheek. 
 
 " It disturbs me more to think that you forget me. 
 Please, remember," as she looked after him. 
 
 " Don't tell father," Jay whispered to Di, in pass- 
 ing. " I will see mother about it." 
 
 There was little cheerfulness for the remainder of 
 the day. Mr. Delafield went to his business, and Jay 
 and his mother had a stormy interview. Cyrus plead 
 an engagement, and Kate tried to rally as Mr. Flash- 
 man called, Herbert Lyndsey had left town for a
 
 28 DO WN WA RD A ND UP IV A R D. 
 
 few weeks. Agnes choked down her resentment, and 
 solaced herself with Mr. Stanton. 
 
 " A most agreeable person to talk with," she said 
 to Di "Strange, that every person is so preju- 
 diced against him. Then he speaks so many lan- 
 guages; and there is no denying that he dances in the 
 most elegant manner. Dear me, Di ! I actually be- 
 lieve you are asleep. That 's all the sympathy I get. 
 If I tell Kate, she laughs ; and mamma is so afraid 
 papa will find out that he calls." 
 
 Ellen was really improving. Dr. Landseer called 
 before dinner. Mrs. Delafield and her daughters were 
 out for a drive. The doctor had been to Europe 
 during the summer, and by degrees the conversation 
 branched off into a political channel, contrasting the 
 peculiar governments with our own, the degradation 
 and oppression there, the different classes. " Per- 
 haps not differing in principle from those to be found 
 here," said the doctor ; " but immeasurably harder 
 to pass from the one to the other." Then of the 
 scenery and works of art, describing old castles and 
 ivy-mantled monasteries in a manner that won the 
 attention of Di and Ellen. 
 
 " With one thing in which they are greatly our 
 superiors," and he drew his chair nearer to Ellen, and 
 raised the thin, wasted hand in his own, — "the peo- 
 ple have more health, finer developed figures, and 
 stronger constitutions than are to be found on this 
 side of the water." 
 
 " This is, no doubt, to be attributed to their mannei 
 of life," replied Mr. Delafield.
 
 D OWNWAJ^D AND UPWARD. 29 
 
 "Less care and anxiety, more enjoyment, the free 
 and easy abandon of out-door existence. This is 
 what Ellen must have. When summer comes, she 
 must go to the mountains, hunting buttercups and 
 daisies, chasincr butterflies, and listenino; to the birds 
 and looking up squirrels. Such exercise would n't 
 hurt Di ; " and the doctor rose to leave. 
 
 " By the way. Miss Daisy, I have not had my song. 
 Do you feel like gratifying mei" 
 
 " With pleasure. Dr. Landseer. What shall it be ? " 
 
 " I confess to a love for old songs." 
 
 " Music, like wine, is improved by age," said Mr. 
 Delafield. " I often wonder at the strange power, 
 the rare, subtle charm pervading those old songs; 
 the haunting memories even now difficult to be 
 thrown aside." 
 
 " For one, I don't mean to do it. Such memories 
 keep the heart young," and a good-humored laugh 
 sounded through the room. 
 
 Di had a peculiarly clear voice, running up the 
 high notes distinctly, and bringing out the lower 
 ones with a power seldom seen without the pale of 
 artist life. She had chosen a song that she knew 
 the doctor loved, and the tears were running down 
 his cheeks as she closed. 
 
 " I never seem to appreciate art as highly as I do 
 in music," said Mr. Delafield. •' There is no material, 
 no subject-matter to be deducted ; it is made up of 
 form and power, and it raises and ennobles whatever 
 it expresses." 
 
 " To affect us properly, it must have an interpreter. 
 3*
 
 30 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 The same son^ sung by different individuals makes 
 an altogether different impression upon one who 
 listens. To sing well, one must throw soul into it." 
 
 " Quite as necessary in other things as in music. 
 Earnestness gives success to every pursuit, and the 
 want of it is sure to prove a failure " 
 
 " Precept and example, I am afraid my patients 
 would be unwilling to pardon, could they see how 
 my time is going." 
 
 Dr. Landseer had gone, and once more Ellen was 
 in her own room. 
 
 " I only hope I shall be strong enough to hunt 
 butterflies and squirrels ; and if I am, you will go 
 with me, Di." 
 
 " We must not think of it with any degree of cer- 
 tainty. There is a bare possibility." 
 
 " Is it wrong to anticipate ? " 
 
 ** It is only wrong when we allow ourselves to be 
 carried away so as to forget the present. You remem- 
 ber what Mr. Parton told us : we live by the day." 
 
 " And the leaves he told us about. I am not even 
 leaves, Di." 
 
 "You are just as God would have you, a dear, 
 little, sick girl. And now you must not trouble 
 yourself about it. Mr. Parton said, if God willed 
 to have us do a certain thine:, he would brincf it 
 about." 
 
 Di had no time to finish her book; but she had 
 tried to comfort Ellen by bringing to mind what the 
 good clergyman had said. True, there were times 
 when her own heart was troubled beyond words,
 
 DOWNIVARD AND UPWARD. 3I 
 
 when she could only think, and that not clearly. 
 Would God bring it about ? And did he care for her, 
 and know just how she tried ? 
 
 Jay did not return at night, and there was a grave 
 look on the father's face. 
 
 " I have half a mind to go for him. I cannot bear 
 to think that he plays ; and if he does not, how does 
 he manage to run up such enormous bills ? " 
 
 Had his father been less stern, or his mother less 
 weak, he might have been led to reform. As it was, 
 each night involved him still further. He grew dex- 
 terous ; drinking in the technicalities of the game, 
 winning and losing with a becoming sang-froid, and 
 thus far successful in hiding his passion from his 
 father. 
 
 Hastily passing from the parlor to Ellen's room, 
 Di was startled by the crouching figure of a man 
 slipping in at the side-door and gliding up the stair- 
 case directly behind her. A moment, and she would 
 have screamed with terror. 
 
 '* Di, don't you know me ? " and she turned to 
 meet Jay, his hat slouched over his eyes, and his dis- 
 guise so perfect she would never have thought of 
 him, but for his voice, 
 
 " I don't want father to see me." 
 
 " What have you been doing. Jay ? " 
 
 ** Doing ! that 's it. I have nothing to do with, 
 girl." 
 - ** Then why this disguise ? " 
 
 " Luck seems to be against me. . I 've lost every 
 night for a week ; it 's about time for a turn."
 
 32 DO WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 " Won't you make it to-night, Jay ? " 
 
 "Whew! you little preacher; but I can't stop to 
 
 see you flush up as you did the other night. Mind 
 
 you don't tell the governor. When once I get back 
 
 what I have lost, I am going to be as good as Mr. 
 
 Parton himself." 
 
 " Will that ever be. Jay ? Do stop before you 
 
 lose any more." 
 
 "Stop! I can't stop till I get it back." 
 
 " Go to your father, and confess it all." 
 
 "Why, girl, father would disinherit me if he 
 
 knew." 
 
 " He will know sometime; better tell him now." 
 " It is just to keep him from knowing, that I must 
 
 try my hand again to-night. If I win, he won't need 
 
 to know anything about it." 
 
 "And if you lose, Jay? Do think of it." 
 
 " I can't think of it; I must do it," and rushing up 
 
 the stairs, Di heard him enter his mother's room 
 
 and bolt the door.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY OF US ? 
 
 IT will never do to let the season pass without a 
 party," Kate Delafield said to her mother; "and 
 if we give one, I want it understood that it is to be 
 fully equal, if not superior, to any that we have at- 
 tended." 
 
 " Of course," returned Agnes. " Everybody knows 
 that papa can afford it ; and it would be called mean 
 if we did not excel. What do you think, mamma? " 
 
 " If we give a party, I would like to have it pass 
 off handsomely. Your father is not one to do any 
 thing by halves." 
 
 " If we give it ? Is n't it already decided upon ? " 
 
 " I have not spoken with your father about it. He 
 has had so many bills to pay this winter," and there 
 was a troubled expression on the mother's face. 
 
 " What will people say of us, if we do not give 
 one grand party during the season ? " 
 
 "I do not say we are not to give it; but I must 
 consult your father. Business is exceedingly dull, 
 and there is no denying that our expenses are 
 enormous." 
 
 *' If the girls have a party, I am to have a supper. 
 There 's Ned Hawley and Dick Clement have given 
 
 C 33
 
 34 DOWNWAJ^^D AND UPWARD. 
 
 Splendid entertainments. Jay and I went to each. 
 It would be shabby enough for us not to invite them 
 in return," and Cyrus walked to the mirror, and ad- 
 justed the diamond pin in his shirt bosom. 
 
 " I fear that your father will not be willing for 
 both." 
 
 " If only one, it must be the party," cried the 
 girls, in a breath. 
 
 " How many parties have you had already ? and 
 we have never had even a supper." 
 
 " Oh, Cyrus ! just think of last winter ! " 
 
 " Little dinner parties for a dozen or so. It 's not 
 that at all now. It must be a real smasher, if any 
 thing. The suppers that have been given this 
 winter have each outdone anything ever known be- 
 fore. Just the wine, Ned told me, cost as much as 
 suppers generally." 
 
 " It would have been better for the guests, if they 
 had not provided quite as plentifully," said Agnes, 
 in a sarcastic tone. 
 
 " People expect to be a little wild and bizarre 
 sometimes," and Cyrus leaned over his mother's 
 chair. Like Jay, he knew how to coax, and thus 
 far he had never been denied. He did not expect 
 to be now. 
 
 " Say that we have your consent, mother." 
 
 " For the party, or for the supper ? " 
 
 "For both." 
 
 *' I will see," a thread of assurance running along 
 the words that gave Cyrus to feel there was little 
 doubt about it.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 35 
 
 " It 's as good as settled," whispered Kate to 
 Agnes ; " it was silly in me to think otherwise. But 
 papa has so much to say about bills; and, indeed, I 
 do suppose business is very dull." 
 
 " What if it is, we always have plenty. I don't 
 see the use of making such a fuss about it." 
 
 It was a settled thing the party was to be given. 
 Upholsterers were sent for, and the rooms freshened 
 till it was difficult for Mr. Delafield to recognize that 
 he was in his own house. Wilton carpets with vines 
 and bright-hued flowers trailing over a white ground, 
 curtains of gossamer fineness, looped over costly 
 damask, and chandeliers blazing with brilliants. 
 
 " I shall give Myers a ' carte blanche ' for refresh- 
 ments; and now for the dresses," said Mrs. Delafield. 
 
 Taste had full sway, and fancy was unchecked. 
 Expense was not thought of, gratification was the 
 end in view. Mrs. Delafield was by no means at ease; 
 "and still it is expected of us," she said to her hus- 
 band. " This is the first season, and it would hardly 
 do not to give a party." 
 
 Mrs. Delafield was not, in the ordinary sense, a 
 manoeuvring mother : she loved her daughters, and 
 was proud of the admiration that followed them. 
 She expected and hoped to see them happily settled 
 in life, but there was no unwomanly advance on her 
 part, neither undue anxiety lest, like old goods, they 
 would be left on her hands. 
 
 Coming into the room one morning, and finding 
 Di busily engaged in retrimming a dress fresh from 
 the modiste. Mr. Delafield asked :
 
 36 DO WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 "And what are you making for yourself, child?" 
 
 A deep blush crept up to Di's face as she an- 
 swered : 
 
 ** I do not expect to go, sir." 
 
 "What reason have you for staying away, child?" 
 
 Before Di could frame an answer, Kate said, 
 naively : 
 
 " It is not necessary that Di comes out this winter, 
 papa." 
 
 "Coming out, I know little of; but as surely as 
 you are there, Di makes one of the party. Now tell 
 me, child, what would you like to wear ? " 
 
 " Unless you very much desire it, I would rather 
 not go ; " and Di bent her face still lower over her 
 work. 
 
 " I do very much desire it. I insist upon it. And 
 you will wear — ? " 
 
 " A plain white muslin," answered Di, in a choking 
 voice. 
 
 Kate twirled her rings idly, and Agnes looked her 
 displeasure. It had not been in the heart of either 
 to allow Di this privilege, and knowing that she 
 would never mention it, they had looked upon it as 
 a settled thing. Without being a beauty, Di had a 
 face sure to win ; and Kate did not care to find a 
 rival in one upon whom she had always looked as a 
 dependent. 
 
 Mr. Delafield had gone, and Di had occasion to 
 take her work into the next room. 
 
 "That's just like father," said Kate, in a low 
 voice. " Di cannot wait upon us, and get ready her- 
 seh. I think it is too bad."
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 3/ 
 
 " Di deserves a little pleasure as well as the rest 
 of us," Mrs. Delafield replied; "and if she does not, 
 your father has decided, and so it must be." 
 
 However yielding Mr. Delafield was, it was under- 
 stood that when he decided upon anything, it was to 
 be done. So in this case there was nothing to do 
 but to order the dress. *' There is one thing ; she 
 will not wish for ornaments. But how are we to 
 introduce her ? She is neither one thing nor the 
 other," continued Kate. 
 
 " Your father will see to that. " 
 
 The folding-doors were ajar. Di could not help 
 but hear every word distinctly. Tears dimmed her 
 eyes, and fell one by one on the costly lace. " She 
 is neither one thing nor the other." True ; she was 
 not a servant, neither had she the privileges of a 
 child ; and once more her heart went back to the 
 little dress folded away in her trunk. Had she a 
 mother? and where ? And how came they to be 
 separated ? 
 
 During this time Jay and Cyrus were making ar- 
 rangements for a supper. It was to be a magnificent 
 affair, with a goodly number of guests. 
 
 '* The ball first," said Kate ; and she carried the 
 day. 
 
 The evening at length arrived ; and at a fashion- 
 able hour the rooms were filled with the elite of that 
 great metropolis. Never had Mrs. Delafield appeared 
 to better advantage ; and Kate was a vision of love- 
 liness, winning admiration from every eye. Agnes 
 was sparkling with life and brilliancy. Never had 
 4
 
 38 DO WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 happiness seemed more perfect. The very atmos- 
 phere was filled with delight. 
 
 Dr. Landseer was there, his good honest face lit 
 up with humor. 
 
 " I shall appropriate this little lady," as he spied 
 Ellen, enveloped in a cloud of pink tulle frosted w^ith 
 seed pearls, her light curls falling in graceful waves 
 over her white shoulders, her clear blue eyes filled 
 with the same pure light. ** I have about as much 
 right to her as anybody, I fancy." 
 
 Herbert Lyndsey was standing by the side of Dr. 
 Landseer. Turning to Mr. Delafield, he said : 
 
 " I have the pleasure of an acquaintance with your 
 two oldest daughters. Will you allow me the same 
 privilege with the third ? " at the same time a beam- 
 ing glance was directed to Di's face. 
 
 " I am happy to introduce Mr. Lyndsey to my 
 adopted daughter, Miss Delafield." 
 
 The name and the manner of Mr. Delafield startled 
 Di more than the expression on Mr. Lyndsey's face. 
 True, she had always been known by the family name 
 when it was needful to give a name at school, or in 
 short journeys that she had made; but she was so 
 accustomed to being called simply Di, so few formal 
 introductions had been made, that of late she 
 had seemed to forget that she had ever worn it. 
 " Merely that I have no other," was the next thought, 
 and with effort Di controlled herself so as to speak 
 calmly. A more splendid-looking couple were not 
 to be seen, and Mr. Delafield followed them with 
 delight. The plain white dress set off Di's figure to
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 39 
 
 the best advantage, and the absence of jewelry ren- 
 dered it only the more charming. 
 
 Herbert Lyndsey had seen much of the world. 
 An accomplished gentleman, he also added the grace 
 of a Christian character ; and so skilful was he in 
 drawing out his companion, that, before many min- 
 utes elapsed, Di was feeling as much at home with 
 him as she would have done with Dr. Landseer, 
 laughing and chatting with the abandon of one to 
 whom enjoyment is a novelty, and still with the 
 earnestness of one who feels that life is not to be 
 frittered away in selfish indulgence. Surprised at 
 herself, Di paused suddenly. She had never spoken 
 so frankly, even to Mr. Delafield and Dr. Landseer; 
 and still it was not of herself, but of her teacher, a 
 lady well known to Mr. Lyndsey. 
 
 "You have not said too much in her praise. I 
 know her well ; and I congratulate you on having the 
 benefit of her instruction and the privilege of claiming 
 her as your friend. Those whom we love we are 
 very apt, nay, almost certain,. to imitate; and I know 
 of no one whose example you can more safely 
 follow." 
 
 There was the usual amount of light badinage, gay 
 words, and merry laughter, and the evening passed — 
 a joy to some, and a sting to others. 
 
 ** I knew it would be the way if Di went ; the very 
 simplicity of her dress would have won, if nothing 
 more," and, mortified and vexed, the flush of passion 
 mantled the cheeks of Agnes Delafield; and she up- 
 braided Di with artfulness in flinging herself in
 
 40 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 Herbert Lyndsey's way, rendering his attention 
 obligatory. 
 
 " I don't see what right you have to complain," 
 said Jay, who had condescended, as Agnes said, to 
 be with them on that particular evening. " You 
 seem to be perfectly oblivious of everybody else 
 when Stanton is by.'' 
 
 The hot flush paled to marble whiteness, and, chok- 
 ing down her words, Agnes left the room. 
 
 Bright things the quickest fade, and soon the party 
 had ceased to be a topic of conversation. 
 
 "We are to have our party to-morrow night; it 
 will be a capital time," and Cyrus flung himself upon 
 the divan, and proceeded to enumerate the good 
 things in store for them. 
 
 " As master of ceremonies, I trust you will set an 
 "example worthy of imitation," replied Mrs. Delafield. 
 
 "We shall enjoy ourselves." 
 
 " It is a fearful thing to think that wealth only 
 intensifies the influence we exert over others," said 
 Di, looking up from her work. 
 
 "What a pity Di is not to be a preacher; she gets 
 off so many wise things," and Cyrus gave a little 
 derisive laugh that brought the tears to Di's eyes in 
 spite of herself. 
 
 " Di only wishes to remind you that you have an 
 influence, and that you should be careful how you 
 use it." 
 
 " Everybody has to be a little wild when they are 
 young, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Delafield was not a religious woman ; but
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 41 
 
 she could not deny that her sons were living fast, and, 
 from listening to her husband, she began to fear, — 
 desiring to turn, and still not knowing just where to 
 begin, or, if she had known, with not sufficient courage 
 to bring it about. 
 
 The supper came off as most suppers do, — the 
 guests more or less oblivious as they left the table. 
 Jay managed to reach home ; but the next day he 
 did not leave his bed. Cyrus was slightly bettor, 
 and the father was exasperated beyond measure. 
 4*
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LOOKING FORWARD. 
 
 AS the spring advanced Ellen grew stron^v.r, and 
 was treated to frequent drives ; twice had she 
 accompanied Di to church. 
 
 " It will be strange if the little girl disappoints us 
 after all," said Dr. Landseer, as he came up with 
 them on the way to church. " There was a time when 
 I never expected to see her able to take this walk." 
 
 " There was a time when I never expected to take 
 it," and the blue eyes filled. ** Di says her teacher 
 used to tell her that a certain amount of chiselling is 
 necessary, and that illness is just to round the sharp 
 corners. I wonder if it is so ? " 
 
 " Illness, and the sharp strain of trouble of any 
 kind, are intended as polishers. Gold is flung into 
 the fire ; diamonds have to be cut." 
 
 " How is it with those who never have trouble? " 
 and Di looked up. 
 
 " There is trouble, and sorrow, and bitterness in 
 every cup : some make a wry face, and by that means 
 give others to understand how bitter it is ; others 
 take it without a change of muscle ; and still others 
 drink to the dregs with a smiling face, because their 
 Father holds the cup, and he knows best." 
 
 42
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 43 
 
 " I would like to be one of these," said Ellen, in an 
 earnest voice. 
 
 " You may be, if you like. We may not only wish 
 to be, but we may ask to be. God likes us to ask 
 him for everything we wish." 
 
 ** Di has told me this." 
 
 ** I am glad Di has learned this." 
 
 ** I am afraid I do not realize it in my own case. 
 Dr. Landseer. It is the echo of what I have been 
 taught, perhaps," replied Di. 
 
 ** Do you think everything that happens to us is 
 for our good ? " asked Ellen. 
 
 " We are assured that everything is for good to 
 them that love God." 
 
 ** But what if we don't? " and there was a touch of 
 sadness that sank into the doctor's heart. 
 
 They had reached the church, and, following Dr. 
 Landseer, Di and Ellen were seated in his pew. 
 They did not feel like strangers, — the. clergyman's 
 face was familiar, and there were many in the audience 
 that seemed like friends. 
 
 The discourse touched upon the love of Jesus, the 
 tenderness he manifested for the guilty and unde- 
 serving, the miracles he performed for the benefit of 
 the poor and the suffering. " And the most tender 
 and beautiful of all," the speaker continued, '' was 
 the cursing of the fig-tree. Jesus did not take a 
 sinner and make him the monument of his dis- 
 pleasure, but a tree, with no feeling to be wounded, 
 no heart to throb with emotion, no wounds to be 
 healed ; and still this tree, not capable of feeling in
 
 44 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 itself, was to stand as a beacon for those who could 
 feel, an example to those who had not improved the 
 privileges granted them, rejected the blessed assur- 
 ance of his love and mercy. And this love, so tender, 
 so sympathetic, we may all have. Not a heart but 
 has some secret sorrow, some dark skeleton-chamber. 
 When the waves of sorrow roll over us we are 
 privileged to go to this same Jesus, casting all our 
 care upon him. How sweet to know that we are 
 not obliged to carry these burdens. Ask : he will 
 help ; he will not take it all, leaving us no part in the 
 labor; he will give us something to do and some- 
 thing to suffer. But so sweetly will he reach out his 
 hand, lifting us over the rugged places, the burden 
 will not be felt." 
 
 A thoughtful look was on Ellen's face, and Di's 
 eyes were full of a new light. The skeleton in each 
 heart was an answer to her question with reference 
 to those who never have trouble. Di was conscious 
 there was a secret chamber in her own heart, a re- 
 cess hidden away from all eyes, and into which she 
 hardly dare to enter ; and once again she thought of 
 the small dress, and the yearning, anguished feeling 
 as she pressed with trembling fingers the silken 
 folds. How many tears she had shed over it, Jesus 
 knew it all. He knew the circumstances ; and he 
 was tender and sympathizing with those who suf- 
 fered. It had never looked so plain to her before ; 
 she would go to him and tell him all of her sorrow. 
 
 Dr. Landseer left them at their own door; and 
 Ellen could not rest till she had found her father,
 
 D OWN WARD AND UPWARD. 45 
 
 and told him of the sermon, and what Mr. Parton 
 said of Jesus and of the withered fig-tree. 
 
 " Do you love Jesus, papa ? " 
 
 Mr. Delafield had not expected such a question, 
 and he did not answer until it was repeated. 
 
 " Certainly, my child ; everybody loves Jesus." 
 
 " But, papa, I mean do you love him better than 
 anything else in the world ? better than you love 
 me, papa? " 
 
 *' Would you like me to love him better than I 
 love you ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa, because he gave me to you ; and 
 sometime, perhaps, he will take me away from you." 
 
 '' I do love him for this, and I hope he will not 
 take you from papa. You must not think of such 
 gloomy things. God is too good to make us un- 
 happy." 
 
 *^ He is good, Mr. Parton says, if we love him. 
 But if we don't, he is terrible. I could not bear to 
 have him angry with me, papa." 
 
 " He could not be angry with you, child." 
 
 " But, papa, the Bible says everybody's heart is 
 wacked, everybody's heart must be washed in the 
 blood of Jesus. I do want mine white, papa. I 
 don't want any little spots left. Don't you want 
 your heart clean, papa ? " 
 
 Mr. Delafield winced under Pollen's questioning, 
 and he was glad when a summons to lunch changed 
 the conversation. Di had been to her own room ; 
 troubled and lonely, she had now a friend to go to. 
 Jesus knew, and it comforted her.
 
 46 DO WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 As the days wore on, parties were less frequent. 
 The fashionable world had already begun to plan 
 what they would do for the summer. Kate and 
 Agnes Delafield were busy in arranging. Herbert 
 Lyndsey was now a regular caller ; but almost inva- 
 riably Dr. Landseer dropped in at the same time, 
 and then Di and Ellen were called down. It was 
 unavoidable, Kate said, and Agnes did not allow her 
 ill-humor to show itself. Not only this, Mr. Stanton 
 had made a decided impression ; and although Mr. 
 Delafield had forbidden him the house, there were 
 innumerable billets and stolen interviews. 
 
 Capricious, and dissatisfied with what she con- 
 sidered too rigid severity, Agnes passed entire 
 days in her room. At such times Di endeavored, 
 with every means in her power, to win her thoughts 
 into a different channel. Sometimes she was in- 
 duced to join Ellen in her drives ; and on these occa- 
 sions she seldom returned without visible improve- 
 ment in her mood. 
 
 It had been a long day. One of those peculiar 
 spring days, when the air is balmy with the per- 
 fume of resinous buds, the deep rich mould giving 
 out an odorous breath. Ellen had been unusually 
 bright all the morning, and a drive was decided 
 upon 
 
 " I give you the open carriage," said Mr. Delafield. 
 ** It affords a more extended view; and I am a little 
 fearful about the horses," patting the noble animals 
 on the neck. 
 
 " If you think there is danger, they must not go; " 
 and a look of anxiety rested on Mrs. Delafield's face
 
 D O WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 47 
 
 " They were recommended to me as being per- 
 fectly safe, and Dixon is a good driver ; " and Mr. 
 Delafield handed Agnes and Ellen to the back seat. 
 Di sprang in without a word, and took her place in 
 front. Their route led them out of town, skirting 
 green fields. The tinkling of cow-bells was heard 
 in the valleys, and lambs were skipping over beds 
 of clover. At the farm-houses, doors and windows 
 were open. Nature seemed animate within and with- 
 out. Ellen was continually spying some new object 
 of delight; and Agnes forgot her moodiness, and 
 gave free vent to the pleasure she enjoyed. 
 
 They were passing a rustic bridge that spanned a 
 deep ravine. A narrow stream trickled through it, 
 and trees and vines were putting on their summer 
 dress of leaves. In the distance it widened into a 
 circular basin, the water, smooth as a steel mirror, 
 breaking over a barrier, and made to turn a mill, 
 the great wheel still in motion. Near it was a school- 
 house, with a few children lingering in groups of 
 three and four. 
 
 " How happy they must be ! " cried Ellen. *' I 
 half envy them the use of their feet." 
 
 " And they, no doubt, fancy that you are blessed 
 with everything that human heart can wish ; " and 
 the tears were in Di's eyes. Yes, she was thinking 
 of the skeleton-chamber in each heart. Ellen did 
 not know that, but she saw the tears. 
 
 " And so I am. It is not every one who has so 
 many to love them as I have." 
 
 Each step brought them within the range of some
 
 48 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 new object; but the day was fading: it would not 
 do to prolong their drive. 
 
 '* We must turn here," said Dixon. 
 
 Agnes wanted to go farther. There was a little 
 discussion, and Dixon turned. 
 
 " I can go home by another route, if it please you," 
 he said to Agnes, with an attempt to pacify. 
 
 " It makes little difference. I never have any 
 thing as 1 want it ; " and the voice was sharp and 
 pettish. 
 
 Di was hurt, and Ellen grew silent. The shadows 
 lengthened, and the brown road was flecked with 
 sunshine. They were in sight of the town, when 
 Agnes caught sight of a clump of laurel, the last 
 red rays gilding the dark-green leaves, and adding 
 beauty to the blossoms. 
 
 " Stop, Dixon. I must have some laurel." 
 
 ** I dare not leave the horses, Miss Agnes. They 
 know they are going home, and it makes them spir- 
 ited." 
 
 " You have become very careful all at once. 
 You could get out easy enough when Di wanted 
 flowers." 
 
 *' It makes all the difference when they are headed 
 for the stable, miss." ■ 
 
 "Very well. If you won't stop, I'll jump out;" 
 and Agnes's voice was husky with passion. 
 
 Di knew that remonstrance would only exas- 
 perate ; but Ellen begged her to sit still. 
 
 " If you say I must, I must. But indeed, miss, it 
 is not safe," Dixon said.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 49 
 
 " I must have some laurel ; and if any blame comes 
 of it, I will bear it," returned Agnes. 
 
 ** Let me hold the reins," said Di. 
 
 " You may put your hand over them, but not to 
 move them. I will keep talking to the horses. They 
 know me; and it won't take me a minute." 
 
 Dixon had barely reached the laurel-bush, looking 
 back and speaking to his horses as though they were 
 reasonable beings, when a gun went off in a neigh- 
 boring field. At the same instant a hound bounded 
 over the fence and across the road, directly in front 
 of the horses. Frightened, Dixon turned. It was 
 too late. The horses were going at a furious rate. 
 With the first dash, Agnes gave a piercing scream 
 and fell back into her seat. 
 
 " Put your arm around Ellen, and make no noise," 
 Di said, in a commanding tone ; at the same time 
 she grasped the reins tightly. There was little 
 strength in her hands to stay their speed ; but she 
 was confident that she could guide them. Fortu- 
 nately, the road was broad, and it was possible that 
 she could check them. Planting her feet firmly 
 against the footboard, she threw herself backward, 
 dragging with all her weight upon the lines. It was 
 no use. Faster and faster they went. Fear lent her 
 strength, and presence of mind did not desert her. 
 She knew the location of the stables. In all proba- 
 bility they would take that direction. In her excite- 
 ment, her hat fell off, and her long dark hair was 
 streaminof in the wind. Vehicles bea;an to meet them, 
 land it required all her power to keep from collision. 
 5 D
 
 50 D OWN WARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 Dashing along so rapidly, hatless, and still guiding, 
 she began to attract the attention of people on the 
 pavement, and several rushed into the street. The 
 horses shied a little, and kept on. This was no ad- 
 vantage, and the heroic girl began to think that all 
 was lost, when she caught a glimpse of Dr. Land- 
 seer. 
 
 " Turn the first corner. It will save you, perhaps." 
 
 " Do not let them take the direction of the bridge," 
 cried another. 
 
 There was encouragement in the words. Di felt 
 her hands growing firm. Her vision was clear. 
 Could she make the turn ? She saw at a glance the 
 doctor's meaning. The stable was in sight. There 
 was no time for delay. Her whole force was thrown 
 upon the rein. The turn was made ; but so quickly, 
 it seemed a miracle the carriage was not overthrown. 
 Great beads of perspiration stood upon her face as 
 the horses dashed into the stable, and a dozen pair 
 of hands were ready to lift her out. 
 
 ** You have done bravely. I did n't expect it," 
 meeting her on all sides. 
 
 Dr. Landseer came up puffing and out of breath, 
 and with him Herbert Lyndsey. 
 
 " Who would have thought it possible ! How in 
 the seven wonders did Delafield let you come out 
 with those horses ? " 
 
 Mr. Lyndsey brushed the dust out of his eyes, 
 and gave his attention to Agnes and Ellen. 
 
 " I would not have been so frightened for the 
 world. I shall never get over it," and Agnes shook
 
 DO WAYWARD AND UPWARD. 5 I 
 
 out the folds of her dress and adjusted her coquettish 
 little hat. 
 
 " You ought to be very thankful that your bones 
 are not broken, Miss Agnes. How is it with you, 
 Ellen? Were you much frightened? " 
 
 *' I just shut up my eyes and asked that Di might 
 bring us in safely." 
 
 ** And now let me take you home," said Dr. Land- 
 seer, as Di gave an account of the affair, careful not 
 to throw any blame upon Agnes. Dixon came up 
 in the mean time, the tears rolling down his bronzed 
 cheeks as he saw them all safe. 
 
 " I just expected every minute to see them dashed 
 in pieces. I had no idea Di knew so well what to 
 do." 
 
 " Di is a brave little woman. Drive us home, 
 Dixon.'*
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HELPING THE DOCTOR. . 
 
 WOULD you like a ride this morning, little 
 woman ? " asked Dr. Landseer, as he caught 
 sight of Di's face under the lilac-trees. 
 
 A laughing rejoinder, and Di came forward and 
 laid both hands in the doctor's broad palm. 
 
 " To be serious, little woman, I have a case that 
 interests me exceedingly. You remember the young 
 carpenter of whom Mr. Parton spoke ? The week 
 after your famous drive, he fell from the scaffolding 
 of a building, and injured himself so badly that am- 
 putation was necessary. He has been doing as well 
 as could be expected, until about a week since ; 
 through nervous excitement, or something else, he 
 is running down fast. I thought perhaps a little 
 cheerful company, a few flowers, and a little singing, 
 would brighten up the day for him. Can you go ? " 
 
 " Let me run up and ask Mrs. Delafield." 
 
 In a moment Di was back, ready shawled and 
 bonneted, slipping on her gloves as she walked to 
 the gate. 
 
 It was not far to the house, — the corner one in a 
 long row of tenements. 
 
 5*
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 53 
 
 "When Mrs. Clayton was a young girl, her home 
 was very different from this. Her husband was an 
 honest man : he failed in business, and everything 
 was given up. Grant is very like his father, with a 
 strict piety, and a craving for knowledge that I have 
 seldom seen equalled," said Dr. Landseer, as he 
 reined in his horse and handed Di to the pavement. 
 
 With a slight rap at the brown door, Mrs. Clayton 
 made her ^pearance. 
 
 ** How is Grant this morning? " was the doctor's 
 salutation. 
 
 ** He passed a restless night; but he seems more 
 quiet this morning." 
 
 " Here is a little woman that I have brought to 
 see you. She is a cheerful little body, and understands 
 nursing ; you may call her Daisy, and begin at once 
 to feel that you have known her a long time." 
 
 This was all the introduction needed ; and Di, 
 or Daisy, as the doctor called her, was soon talking 
 with Grant quite as easily as she would have done 
 with Ellen, holding her flowers so that the invalid 
 could inhale their breath all the while that the 
 doctor was removing the bandages, making exami- 
 nations, and renewing remedies. 
 
 " There ! you feel better, I know," and the doctor 
 took the hand of his patient. '* You are fond of 
 music. Grant: Daisy knows how to sing. I am to 
 leave her here while I look at another patient 
 farther on ; and for fear that she '11 tire you with her 
 talk, I shall ask her to sing." 
 
 Di did not wait for the doctor to leave the room 
 5*
 
 54 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 before she began, striking into a cheerful little hymn 
 which she was accustomed to sing to Ellen. 
 
 Very bright and cheerful Grant looked when Dr. 
 Landseer returned, 
 
 *' If I am not mistaken, you have enjoyed the 
 music;" and once more the doctor lifted the thin 
 hand. 
 
 " Very much. I shall think of it all day." 
 
 "And not long before Daisy will repeat her visit, 
 and the flowers will need replenishing." 
 
 " We could hardly expect her to take that trouble," 
 said the invalid. 
 
 " It is not a trouble for Daisy to do anything that 
 gives pleasure." 
 
 Di's eyes turned gratefully to the doctor, mutely 
 thanking him for his appreciation of her willingness; 
 and then, with a charming blending of kindness 
 and timidity, she said to Mrs. Clayton, " I know a 
 little of nursing, and the days of convalescence re- 
 quire quite as much skill as severe illness. You will 
 not forget, if in any manner I can serve you." 
 
 " I am happier for this visit," said Daisy, as she 
 found herself in the buggy by the side of Dr. Land- 
 seer. 
 
 " Improving opportunities, Daisy ; concentration 
 of thought upon one's own gratification dwarfs the 
 intellect and deadens moral perception. To interest 
 ourselves in the welfare of those around us is to do 
 as Jesus did, — he went about doing good. It is ours 
 to do as he did ; and the very effort, weak as it may 
 be, promotes our own happiness and increases that
 
 D WN IV A RD A ND UP WA RD. 55 
 
 of our neighbors. It was not much for you, — a few 
 flowers, a look, a word, a song; your own heart is 
 lighter, and Grant and his mother will be happier 
 all day." 
 
 ** Where have you been all the morning ? " asked 
 Agnes, as she saw Di spring out of the buggy and 
 enter the house. 
 
 " I have been with Dr. Landseer to see a patient." 
 
 " You and the doctor are inseparable these days. 
 I do not think it looks well to see a young girl 
 running about in this manner. I wonder mamma 
 permits it." 
 
 " I have not seen Dr. Landseer for some time. 
 He has a patient whom he thought I could benefit; 
 and your mother was willing that I should go." 
 
 "Of course; of course it's all right; it always is. 
 By-the-way, had you been here, you would have seen 
 your friend, Mr. Lyndsey." 
 
 Di's cheeks were scarlet as she ran up the stairs, 
 and her eyes were full of tears. Several times Agnes 
 had taunted her with a desire to meet the young 
 lawyer. She knew that it was done maliciously, 
 and this morning she was not in a mood to bear 
 it patiently. 
 
 ** I am so glad you have come, Di," and Ellen 
 held up her flushed face for a kiss. 
 
 " What is the matter, pet ? What troubles you ? " 
 arid Di forgot her annoyance in her efforts to com- 
 fort Ellen. 
 
 " Oh, Di, we have had such a time ; and mamma is 
 crying in her room. Jay came to mamma for
 
 $6 DO WN WA RD A ND UP WAR D. 
 
 money, and papa heard him ; and he called Jay into 
 his room, and such a talk as they had. Papa said 
 Jay must play, or he could not spend so much, and 
 if he did n't stop, we should all be beggars. Jay was 
 angry, and said that Agnes spent as much as he did. 
 And then papa read over the bills, — a great roll of 
 them, — that he had paid within the week. Oh, Di ! I 
 do not see how Jay and Cyrus can do this, when it 
 makes mamma feel so badly; and papa's face was as 
 white as it could be." 
 
 There was little to be said ; and to quiet Ellen, Di 
 told her of the family she had been to see, — of 
 Grant's misfortune in losing his limb, and how badly 
 he felt about it. 
 
 " It seems strange that some people have every- 
 thing, and others so little. Grant has had to work 
 for a living, and Jay has papa to care for him ; " and 
 Ellen puzzled her brain over a question that has 
 often troubled older heads. 
 
 "It is God's way," replied Di. "If it wasn't for 
 this, it would look strange. I like to think that he 
 knows best." 
 
 " I am sure I will not trouble papa. Mr. Parton 
 said we could go and tell Jesus all our troubles. If 
 papa would only tell him. I wonder if he ever 
 does ?" 
 
 "I hope so, Ellen." 
 
 " Do you tell him everything, Di ? " 
 
 •' I try to tell him: sometimes I don't," and Di was 
 conscious there were thoughts that stung her into 
 unrest, — thoughts that she did not dare to breathe;
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 57 
 
 not realizing that she had a friend who could be 
 touched with her sorrow, a friend who had the 
 power to help, and in whose care and sympathy she 
 would find strength. She knew this in theory, and 
 she felt it in part ; but the scales had not fallen from 
 her eyes, the beauty of his countenance was not 
 fully revealed to her. 
 
 Too sad for words, Di took her little charge into 
 the garden. 
 
 " If God did not love us, he would never have 
 made so many lovely flowers, little keepsakes to 
 remember him by," and Ellen stooped to the hya- 
 cinths, patting and caressing them as friends. 
 
 " The first spring flowers have a charm for me 
 that I never feel at any other time, and their sweet- 
 ness seems deeper," and Di gathered heart's-ease 
 and fastened them in Ellen's curls. 
 
 " God made the weeds, as he did the flowers, Di." 
 
 *'* Weeds have their use ; it is possible that, if we 
 understood them better, we should see that they are 
 to be prized just as much as the flowers." 
 
 " If I could choose, I would not be a weed," and 
 Ellen stirred the earth about the bulbous roots. 
 . "The honor is not in the flower, neither in the 
 weed ; but in living and growing just where his 
 hand placed it." 
 
 " Would you as soon be one as the other, Di ? " 
 
 " I am afraid that I like to choose ; and still I see 
 a beauty in willingness to be just what He would 
 have me be." 
 
 The next morning Ellen accompanied Daisy on
 
 58 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 her second visit to the invalid, Mrs. Clayton was a 
 woman of culture; and in the interchange of thought 
 and feeling, Daisy found there were suggestions and 
 half-spoken thoughts on which she could mount like 
 golden stairs. Edna Clayton was not as old as 
 Ellen, but, by reason of good health, she seemed 
 older, — a bright, active child, with a mind open to 
 the influences around her, a child to profit by oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 As Grant grew stronger, Daisy was surprised with 
 the beauty of his speech ; the thirst for knowledge 
 that he manifested, the eagerness to do something for 
 his mother's sake ; above all, the deep, earnest piety 
 that characterized him. Not unfrequently Mr. Parton 
 made one of the number, and her soul drank in new 
 life from his well chosen words. 
 
 ** Severe as this affliction has proved, there is no 
 doubt but it was to advance your highest good here 
 and hereafter," Mr. Parton said, as Grant talked of 
 the accident, and his fears that it would unfit him for 
 a life of labor. '' Confined within these walls, and suf- 
 fering, as you have done, the loss of a limb, it may 
 have saved you from a more fearful calamity." 
 
 *' I have tried to think of this," continued Grant, 
 in a lower tone. " I was planning and hoping for so 
 much. Leaning upon myself, I saw so much to be 
 done, and I felt that I could do it. God saw other- 
 wise." 
 
 " Rest assured his way is the best way." 
 
 "To work by day and to study at night was my 
 plan. It is doubtful if I can do either now."
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. $9 
 
 "Will you be willing to let him open the way?" 
 
 " I have only strength to accept what he gives." 
 
 "The trial will be in waiting." 
 
 A smile shot over Grant's pale face. " I see the 
 force of your remarks. I will do my best to wait 
 patiently." 
 
 Through the golden sunshine to her own dwelling, 
 Daisy was not thinking of herself, a new revelation was 
 open to her. She had never looked upon Grant's 
 accident as a mercy. It seemed dark and afflictive. 
 Was it to save him from something worse ? and she 
 recalled Mr. Parton's words. From how many pit- 
 falls we are turned aside; from how many preci- 
 pices and deep, yawning chasms we are suddenly 
 drawn back, it is impossible to tell. But this we 
 know, that as children depend upon their parents for 
 care and a watchful foresight, so we are privileged to 
 look to our heavenly Father, secure and confident in 
 his love. 
 
 In thinking of Grant, her own history came up 
 before her. Was it in mercy that she was left alone 
 and friendless ? Was it to escape a greater evil ? 
 and tears bathed the ruddy face. Was it in mercy 
 to her or to her parents ? For, strange as it may 
 seem, Daisy never thought of her parents as dead. 
 Not a night but she dreamed of them. Not a day 
 but visions of a mother's love softened and illuminated 
 the path. Not a sharp word but had its counterpart 
 in the unspoken tenderness of her day dreaming. She 
 might never meet them. She hardly knew that she 
 expected this privilege. It was bliss enough to think
 
 6o DO WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 there were hearts beating for her; and her own 
 throbbed with a stronger, healthier movement 
 
 " If papa didn't have so much to pay for Jay, he 
 would n't mind helping Grant," and Ellen's blue eyes 
 were full of tenderness. " There are a good many 
 things that I can do without, Di; and it won't trouble 
 papa." 
 
 " An education is not won without time as well as 
 money : to help effectually, it must be continued. 
 One act of self-denial, however praiseworthy and 
 easily borne, might become a fetter, if one was called 
 upon to repeat it." 
 
 " But I do not care about much ; and it will be a 
 good while before I come * out,' as Kate calls it." 
 
 '' Before you think about it, talk with your father; 
 he will tell you if it can be done readily." 
 
 After tea, as Ellen sat by the side of her father, she 
 suddenly asked, " How much does it cost to study a 
 profession, papa?" 
 
 " Some people make a profession with very little 
 study," replied Mr. Delafield, with a laugh. 
 
 " I mean to go through college, papa." 
 
 "Are you thinking to go through college, Ellen? 
 or is it Di? " asked Cyrus, playfully. 
 
 " Counting the cost merely," said Di. with a smile. 
 
 "You might ask Mr. Lyndsey," said Kate. " I am 
 told that he had hard work to get through with his 
 studies. He came into the possession of his prop- 
 erty since he graduated." 
 
 *' I wonder why you always answer Di in this 
 manner," and Ellen's cheeks were crimson. " It is
 
 no JVNH^ARD AND UPWARD. 6l 
 
 no sign that she wants to go through college, be- 
 cause I asked a simple question. But I know of 
 somebody that does ; may I tell you who it is, papa?" 
 
 " Certainly, my child." 
 
 In her own way, Ellen went on to speak of Grant 
 Clayton, and the desire he had to study. Edna said 
 that before his fall he used to sit up nearly all night 
 to study his lessons; and when his mother begged 
 him to go to bed, he always answered that he was 
 not a bit sleepy, and in the morning he went to his 
 work just the same. It seems to me strange that 
 God would let him fall when he was trying so hard," 
 and Ellen looked wistfully into her father's face. 
 
 Mr. Delafield was not usually sensitive to the honor 
 of God ; but it was a new thing to hear Ellen ques- 
 tion his acts. 
 
 *' God knows best, my child." 
 
 " If he does, why does he give Jay so much and 
 Grant so little ? " 
 
 The idea of God's giving was not recognized by 
 Mr. Delafield. It was his own giving by which Jay 
 had so much. Grant's father was not a successful 
 business man. He died poor. 
 
 ** Papa," and the soft arms were clinging round 
 the father's neck ; " papa, how much do I cost 
 you ? " 
 
 ** You cost me a heart full of love and anxiety." 
 
 " Not that, papa. How much money do I cost 
 you ? Do I cost enough to make you feel badly ? " 
 
 "Papa's little girl has not been an expense to 
 him." 
 6
 
 62 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " I am glad, papa ; for I do want to ask for a 
 little money. Will you dislike me to ask, papa?" 
 
 " I can better tell when I know for what purpose 
 you want it." 
 
 " Grant can never work as he did before his fall ; 
 but he can study. I would like to help him, papa." 
 
 " Are you sure Grant wants to study ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa. I have seen the tears run down his 
 cheeks when he talked of this, and how impossible 
 it would be for him to do it now." 
 
 " And you want to give him the money that I 
 might otherwise give to you? " 
 
 *' Yes, papa." 
 
 " I will see, my child." 
 
 " I thought of Dr. Landseer; but I rather it would 
 be you, papa. Just what you would give to me, you 
 know." 
 
 ** If it will make papa's little girl happier, he will 
 do it," and kisses rained over Ellen's cheeks. 
 
 A thoughtful expression settled on Mr. Delafield's 
 face, and Ellen ran away to tell Di. 
 
 When Grant Clayton could walk about his room, 
 Ellen made known her plan, and this time the tears 
 were not sad. 
 
 " I thought it was a proof that God was angry 
 with us," said Edna, as she walked with Ellen to the 
 carriage. "A mercy, it seems now. Dr. Landseer 
 says Grant could never have held out to work and 
 study as he was doing."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 REST AND TOIL. 
 
 JUNE came, with her wealth of roses and days 
 golden with sunshine. The dim, dusty town was 
 deserted. Busy days there had been at Mr. Dela- 
 field's. Some had gone to the sea-side, and others to 
 the mountains. At first it was proposed that all should 
 go to the country, but Kate and Agnes overruled. 
 
 ** What is the use of all our new dresses, if we are 
 to mope in the country?" asked Kate. *' For my 
 part, I have no taste for it. All of our set are going 
 to the shore, and of course we are expected to join 
 them." 
 
 " It will, no doubt, be the best thing for Ellen, and 
 Di will enjoy it," added Agnes ; and, very amiably, 
 the two girls suggested the articles of dress neces- 
 sary for a visit to the country. " Calicoes and 
 ginghams, and one lawn for Sundays." 
 
 Kate drew still closer to her mother. " The 
 dresses Agnes and I wore when we were in Tipton 
 will be just the thing. A little altering, and mine 
 will fit Di splendidly. In this case, you can afford 
 us those lovely crapes and grenadines we saw yes- 
 terday." 
 
 " I will see," was the quiet reply. 
 
 63
 
 64 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " I shall want my white dresses, and so will Di," 
 said Ellen. 
 
 " White dresses ! They would n't keep clean any 
 time; and then who's to do them up?" exclaimed 
 Agnes. 
 
 Ellen looked as though she expected they could 
 wash quite as well in the country as in the city. But 
 Di was not listening. She was thinking of what Dr. 
 Landseer had told her of the old place — the spot where 
 he had passed his boyhood, and where she expected 
 to enjoy so much climbing the mountains, and fol- 
 lowing the brook to its source. She did not care 
 about her dress ; and, still, Daisy could not deny that 
 she liked to be dressed becomingly, choosing colors 
 that harmonized with her complexion, style, and gen- 
 eral appearance. And yet, so seldom was her taste 
 consulted, that it came to be understood it made little 
 or no difference with Di. Anything laid aside by 
 Kate and Agnes was sure to be acceptable. 
 
 It was all arranged. Jay and Cyrus were to accom- 
 pany Mrs. Delafield and her eldest daughters to the 
 shore. Di and Ellen to the mountains. Mr. Dela- 
 field could not take a rest this summer, he said. Busi- 
 ness rendered it needful for him to stay in the city. 
 
 " In that case, let us stay with you, papa ; " and 
 Ellen crept up to her father's knee. 
 
 "That would be selfish; and, still, papa will miss 
 his little girl." 
 
 ** I would rather stay, papa, and so would Di." 
 
 " No, no. I expect great things from country air and 
 country living. I want these pale cheeks to be ruddy 
 with health when you return."
 
 D O WNWARD AND UPWARD. 65 
 
 Immersed in society as were his wife and daugh- 
 ters, Mr. Delafield's heart turned to Ellen with 
 peculiar fondness. When he came from his office, 
 she was always ready to meet him ; and the strong 
 man felt weak as a child at the thought of her 
 leaving. 
 
 "This little girl will come back as bright as a but- 
 terfly and as gay as a lark," exclaimed Dr. Landseer, 
 as Ellen danced out to meet him. 
 
 " Have they all gone ? " 
 
 " Left yesterday." 
 
 ** Only yesterday ! " exclaimed the doctor, arching 
 his eyebrows in a peculiar manner. " I thought they 
 had been gone a week at least, and you had ample 
 time to think of yourselves." 
 
 *' Such a sight of packing ! They could not go as 
 early as they expected," returned Ellen. 
 
 " How long before yoii are ready? " 
 
 *' Di thinks we ought to stay with papa." 
 
 ** Papa is an old bear, or he would go with us," 
 said the doctor. 
 
 " Indeed, Dr. Landseer, papa is not a bear. He 
 has to work hard to give us all we want." 
 
 " Here he comes to answer for himself; " and the 
 doctor and Ellen met Mr. Delafield at the door. 
 
 " Ellen says you are not a bear." 
 
 *'Do I look like one?" 
 
 ** Not quite as formidable, perhaps." 
 
 " I see you are for the country." 
 
 " Will you join us ? " 
 
 " I am afraid not, doctor. To tell you the truth, 
 6* E
 
 66 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 the wheels are getting sadly out of order; and if I 
 leave, I am afraid they will stop altogether." 
 
 " PushinG: ahead without regard to health or 
 strength. I say, Delafield, if anybody needs recrea- 
 tion, you do. Unless you take care, you will break 
 down before you know it." 
 
 " Perhaps I can go down for a few days before they 
 return. It would do little good to go now. There 
 must be somebody to keep up supplies. God knows 
 how long it will last." 
 
 Before they parted, it was settled Di and Ellen 
 were to go out with Dr. Landseer and return with 
 Mr. Delafield. 
 
 Mrs. Clayton, Grant, and Edna had been the last 
 to say good-by ; and bearing a letter from Mr. Par- 
 ton to his college-chum, Mr. Hawley, the minister at 
 Tipton, they set out. The cars did not take them 
 nearer than twenty miles from Tipton. There a stage 
 was in waiting, " large enough for passengers and 
 baggage, too," said the driver. 
 
 ** People that go to the country do not require the 
 finery that is requisite at the sea-shore," the doctor 
 whispered to Di. 
 
 With a good deal of wonderment in her great blue 
 eyes, Ellen allowed herself to be lifted to the back 
 seat, while Di sprang up over the wheel as though 
 she had been accustomed to it all her life. The 
 driver was a good-natured man, ready to answer any 
 amount of questions, with a dry humor continually 
 flashing up, to the infinite amusement of his passen- 
 gers.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 67 
 
 The sun was past the meridian, and the slant rays 
 lay like gold bars on the fence-rails and across the 
 brown road. Far away the mountains lifted their 
 broad shoulders to the skies, and in the distance a 
 river appeared, like a silver ribbon fringed with em- 
 eralds. Clusters of oak and maple dotted the way- 
 side, and the birds held high mass on every tree. 
 Through the openings, fields of corn were to be 
 seen, and the green meadows were golden with but- 
 tercups. 
 
 ** You have grown very still back there," and 
 Nathan threw a glance behind him. *' Seen all there 
 is, have you ? " 
 
 " Not that," returned Di ; *' but it is so strangely 
 grand and beautiful, words are out of place." 
 
 " It does n't seem strange to one born here. About 
 as much beauty as there is in the sunrise ; one would n't 
 turn to look at it after a few times." 
 
 "The sunrise ! I think it's glorious 1 I intend to 
 be up every morning in time for this." 
 
 " Get to be an old story in a month. I 've heard 
 ever so many say so. It did n't hold out." 
 
 " There 's an old mill," and Nathan pointed with 
 his whip. *'I've been there many a time when a 
 little shaver. Not now what it was then. Everything 
 changes, though." 
 
 ** This valley has not changed much since you knew 
 it, h^s it ? " asked Dr. Landseer. 
 
 " A mighty sight it has, though. None of these 
 handsome houses then, and a good deal of timber in 
 places. And the farms, in the room of being
 
 68 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 hemmed in with neat fences and smooth walls, were 
 only staked out. Everything had to be done by 
 hand. Now, machinery does pretty nigh all." 
 
 "A labor-saving process," replied the doctor. 
 
 " Takinsf the bread from the mouths of the chil- 
 dren." • 
 
 " How so ? " 
 
 '* One man can now do the work of half a dozen, 
 driving the surplus of labor to manufacturing towns, 
 or to anything that offers itself, when, as a matter of 
 course, farming was the choice of these men, and 
 about the only thing they could do with profit to 
 themselves, or to anybody else." 
 
 " Would you like the old way again ? " 
 
 " It would be a happier way of living." 
 
 " It does not affect you personally, I see." 
 
 "I've been tossed up a good bit, Dr. Landseer; 
 but somehow I always come down, like a cat, on my 
 feet. There are some things I like better than others, 
 though." 
 
 ** Have you always lived in these parts ? " 
 
 " Off and on, here 's been my home," and Nathan 
 went on to enlighten the doctor with a few of his 
 adventures. 
 
 " When we get on that hill, we shall come upon 
 the village, — a pretty show it makes from the ridge," 
 said Nathan, as he reached the climax of his story. 
 
 The glow of sunset bathed the valley and tinged 
 the tops of the mountains. Nathan drew up his 
 horses. 
 
 " Glorious ! Who ever saw a more charming 
 prospect! " and Dr. Landseer sprang to the ground.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 69 
 
 *' You can see just as well here," said Nathan, see- 
 ing that Di was about to follow. " We shall wind 
 down the hill into the village. 'Tis pretty; but I 
 can't see it just as you do : 'tis nothing new to me. 
 And, still, it kinder looks different every time." 
 
 " God makes everything beautiful," said Ellen, 
 as she stood on the seat, holding on to Nathan's 
 arm. 
 
 ** I don't know much about God. It's natral, anc^ I 
 like it. This is just about the prettiest time in the 
 year." 
 
 "Don't you know God made everything?" and 
 Ellen's blue eyes looked up to the bronzed face. 
 
 " It 's nater, child. This ere beauty won't last ; 'tis 
 changing all the time. Trees put out in the spring, 
 then they fade and die, and begin again. It's their 
 nater. Everything goes by rule." 
 
 " But God made the rule, Nathan." 
 
 "Can't say; some folks think so." 
 
 " But, Nathan, God made us, and we are God's," 
 and a puzzled expression clouded Ellen's face. She 
 had never seen one who doubted God's power; and 
 her anxiety increased with each answer from Nathan. 
 
 " If God made us, and we are his, I should think 
 he would take care of us." 
 
 "So he does, Nathan. He keeps us all the time." 
 
 " A pretty deal of care we 'd get, if we did n't bow 
 down to hard work all the time. I 've tried both 
 ways." 
 
 " Do you mean that you 've tried to let God take 
 care of you ? "
 
 •JO DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " Not that, exactly ; but I 've tried a kind of do- 
 nothing way of life. It did n't come to much." 
 
 " Bluebells, such as you never saw before ! " ex- 
 claimed Dr. Landseer, coming up the path with his 
 hands full of flowers. " I declare it makes me young 
 again : the very spring where I used to drink when 
 a boy, and the same old mullein stalk, for any differ- 
 ence that I can see. I tried to make a cup, but my 
 hands are too clumsy, and my eyes are full of mist. 
 We '11 try it again some day," and the doctor shook 
 his pocket-handkerchief, and once more resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 "See that house over there with a little cupola? 
 It looks like a blaze of light," and Nathan pointed 
 with his whip. 
 
 " Yes," returned Di. 
 
 " Mr. Hawley lives there. It 's little the smartest 
 place in the village. I always feel kind of sad when 
 I pass it, though." 
 
 " Why sad, Nathan ? " 
 
 " It was built by an Englishman nigh about twenty 
 year ago. He come over and married a sister of Mr. 
 Hawley. A pretty girl as one need see in a lifetime. 
 I never knew quite what ; but 't was said he was rich ; 
 belonged to one of the great families; could n't marry 
 beneath him. It was about the time I went to Cali 
 forny ; can't tell it straight. His family considered 
 the marriage illegal, and the child unable to hold the 
 property. Mr. Hawley took it up ; the Englishman 
 went home, and somehow the child was spirited away, 
 and the mother has been no account ever since,"
 
 D OWNWARD AND UPWARD. 7I 
 
 " What do you mean : did she die, Nathan ? " 
 
 " She Hves ; but her reason is gone. Mr. Hawley 
 takes care of her." 
 
 ** Did you know anything of this, Dr. Landseer ? " 
 and Di's eyes were full of tears. 
 
 " It is almost twice twenty years since I lived here, 
 child, and everything has changed since that. For 
 minister then we had an old man by the name of 
 Denon. I remember he always prayed with his eyes 
 open ; old square pews with seats hung with hinges, 
 which we always raised in prayer-time. You remem- 
 ber them, Nathan ? " 
 
 " Leetle before my time, doctor. I can just re- 
 member I used to ride behind mother to the meet- 
 ing-house, while she carried the baby in her lap : 
 we always had a baby at our house. I see the sun 
 is most down ; guess we 'd better be jogging." 
 
 The golden tints had vanished as Nathan reined 
 up at Mrs. White's door. 
 
 "I have been looking for you, doctor," said the 
 good woman, as she came out to welcome them. 
 "And these are the little girls you promised me? 
 Are you tired with the journey? " she asked, giving 
 a hand to Di and Ellen. 
 
 ** Not much, as far as I am concerned, Mrs. 
 White," responded Di. " Ellen is not as strong, and 
 she has expended a good deal of enthusiasm." 
 
 " Just come right up to your room, and bathe your 
 face and hands : you'll feel better. Here, Seth, take 
 this little girl up-stairs." 
 
 Seth did not wait to ask permission, but, raising
 
 72 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 Ellen in his strong arms, sprang up the steps as 
 easily as if he carried a rose-leaf. 
 
 " There, child, lay right back in this little rocking- 
 chair; you are just tired out. We shall have you all 
 straight in a few days. Nobody is ever sick here." 
 
 " It is not a bit as I thought it would be," said 
 Ellen, as Mrs. White left the room. '* Kate said it 
 was horrid in the country. Do you know, Di, I 
 think it's better than to be in town ; and this grand 
 old house. Why, she said the rooms were nothing 
 but pigeon holes." 
 
 " Kate was thinking of society : there are fewer 
 people to be met with in the country ; and their 
 habits and customs are not the same as in the 
 city." 
 
 " I am glad they are not. I like Nathan ever so 
 much, don't you? And Mrs. White is real good." 
 
 " Ready for a chicken's wing ? " Dr. Landseer called 
 out from the landing. "Think you will like it? " as 
 the girls went out to meet him. 
 
 *' I am sure we shall, Dr. Landseer." 
 
 " Right glad of that. Mrs. White knows how to 
 make people comfortable." 
 
 The supper-room was large and airy; cool white 
 matting covered the floor; the windows were draped 
 with muslin curtains, not disturbing the entrance of 
 pure air rich with the perfume of flowers. Pictures 
 covered the walls, and the table was loaded with 
 delicacies. 
 
 **If the doctor will take this seat, with Miss 
 Delafield and Ellen on each side," said Mrs. White.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 73 
 
 Seth sat opposite his mother, and a ruddy-cheeked 
 girl of twelve occupied the other side of the table, 
 
 ** Di, if you please, Mrs. White, or Daisy, as Dr. 
 Landseer calls me," as a cup of tea was passed to 
 " Miss Delafield." 
 
 Mrs. White had hardly looked at her guests; now 
 she had a chance to study their faces, and her good, 
 motherly heart was drawn toward them with a de- 
 gree of feeling seldom given to those of whom she 
 knew so little. The more she looked at Daisy's face 
 the more was she impressed with the idea that she 
 had seen it before. This could not be, however, for 
 she had never been to the city. Of course it was 
 only a fancy, one of those faces that you meet with 
 at times, a face that brings up haunting memories, as 
 though each feature was the embodiment of some- 
 thing or somebody with whom you have been 
 familiar all your life, and still not sufficiently tangi- 
 ble to recall the exact place and time. 
 
 After tea the chairs were removed to the porch, 
 and as the shadows veiled the earth, the moon and 
 stars appeared. Ellen nestled to the doctor's side, 
 and Daisy grew silent, so still, it seemed the presence 
 of the Infinite overshadowed them, the sound of his 
 voice walking in the garden. 
 
 "God is nearer to us in the country," Ellen whis- 
 pered to Dr. Landseer. 
 
 " Speaking with him face to face," replied the 
 doctor. This was the first night at Tipton. 
 7
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BACK THROUGH THE YEARS. 
 
 DR. LANDSEER had gone out for two weeks 
 only ; his patients could not spare him any 
 longer, and there was not a moment to be lost. 
 
 " The house has been remodelled till there is not 
 a vestige left," he said to Mrs. White, the morning 
 after his arrival. " I remember the large chimney 
 behind which I used to sleep; on the projecting 
 corners of which we dried nuts, and cracked them 
 as we did our jokes. How rich I felt in the posses- 
 sion of a knife ; slipping it into my pocket, and 
 buttoning my coat over it, while I walked up artd 
 down the brook to hunt a willow suited for a whistle ; 
 and then it was all too large for my infantile strength, 
 and Jerry had to try it, cutting it round, and slipping 
 off the juicy bark from the white wood. With a step 
 prouder than I have taken since, I showed it to my 
 mother, with the knife that Jerry gave me ; the dear 
 glad eyes looking into mine with a wealth of love. 
 Drawing me to her bosom, she pressed her lips to 
 mine, and wept. I marvelled to see the tears, while 
 her white lips trembled. In a few days she was ill ; 
 and before I had learned to know what sickness 
 meant, my mother fell asleep, never to wake again. 
 
 74
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 75 
 
 With childlike awe and wonder, I crept into the cold 
 room, raised the white sheet, and cried myself to 
 sleep. Long after nightfall they found me there ; 
 and Jerry carried me in his arms up to my bed be- 
 hind the chimney. Since then I have known sor- 
 row ; but none so keen, a dull throbbing pain, not 
 sharp and fierce as I knew it then." 
 
 Through all that day the little reminiscences of 
 early life were cropping out. The trees were the 
 only things that looked familiar, and these had 
 grown large, their trunks moss-covered. Then the 
 barn was visited, and the doctor explained to Daisy 
 and Ellen the way he used to climb to the great 
 beams, and jump upon the hay below. ** I v/ould 
 hardly risk it now," and he looked up to the dizzy 
 height. Over the large doors pigeons cooed, and 
 made circuits, teaching their young to fly. Down 
 the narrow path, overgrown with long dank grass, 
 to the small spring at the foot of the cherry-tree, 
 the old bucket rimmed with moss ; but the happy 
 voices, as they dipped their tin-pails in the sparkling 
 fountain, were no longer heard. Then across the 
 meadow to the island, the white line of a brook 
 girdling it in. Changed as it was, there were haunt- 
 ing memories, the line of cherry-trees recalling the 
 time when he had begged his mother to let him look 
 at the mowers in the field, rolling on the new-made 
 hay, and eating cherries to his fill. The sun set, 
 Jerry broke a limb weighed down with fruit, and, 
 climbing to the top of the loaded cart, sang out to
 
 ^6 DO IV N IV A R D A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 Spot and Brindle, as they toiled slowly along the 
 narrow track. 
 
 The letter from Mr. Parton to Mr. Hawley won 
 for the small party immediate attention. Morning, 
 noon, and night he was at their service; and a better 
 guide could not have been found, neither a more 
 genial companion. 
 
 " I had no adequate idea of what the country 
 offers," said Daisy, as Mr. Hawley came up with a 
 bouquet of tiny white bells. " The exquisite beauty 
 of the wild flowers exceeds all that I have known." 
 
 "Wild flowers are planted by His hand and 
 nourished by His care ; there is a delicacy and a 
 beauty that we never see in hot-house plants," Mr. 
 Hawley replied. 
 
 " Art can fashion nothing like these," continued 
 Daisy, examining more closely the flowers. ** What 
 exquisite pencilling!" 
 
 " Modest and unassuming, they come freighted 
 with rich lessons to those who have the willingness 
 to hear," answered the pastor. 
 
 " It seems a pity that so much beauty is never to 
 be seen," said Ellen, as she opened the long grass 
 and gazed on the'wildlings. 
 
 " Sitting in the place He gave. Not passive, for 
 their fragrance finds them out," said Dr. Landseer, 
 as he joined the group, 
 
 " What charming lessons of content they teach. 
 Withholding neither beauty nor perfume because un- 
 seen," rejoined Mr. Hawley. 
 
 Daisy caught the words. It was the very lesson 
 she had tried to learn.
 
 D O WN WA R D A ND UP WA R D. 7/ 
 
 ** It makes little difference where we are, or what 
 we have to contend with," continued Mr. Hawley, as 
 though he divined Daisy's perplexity. '* All that is 
 expected of us is to do our best, and, doing this, be 
 content. When dark to us, we know it's plain to 
 Him. No need of undue care or restlessness." 
 
 " In the place He gave," went ringing through her 
 ears, as she wandered back to the porch. So long 
 Daisy had allowed herself to question, Why and 
 wherefore ? She had not deemed it wrong. Thought- 
 less, perhaps, and often, as she looked upon the 
 small dress, had she been restless and questioning. 
 '< God never makes mistakes," Mr. Hawley said. 
 " His plans have an end and aim, and good is the 
 result." 
 
 It is wonderful, the effect of a few words, — the 
 subtle power to strengthen, calm, and lift us up, or 
 drag us down with their withering, scathing sharp- 
 ness. There were walks and rides, and once there 
 had been a picnic, to which the villagers were in- 
 vited ; and Daisy and Ellen were as much disap- 
 pointed in the elegant refinement of these villagers 
 as they had been in the rare views and visions of 
 beauty that flashed upon them from every quarter. 
 
 Walking on the river-sands. Dr. Landseer slipped 
 the pebbles through his fingers, or sent them skip- 
 ping over the waves, to the delight of Ellen ; and 
 Mr. Hawley brought pine-cones, full of lingering 
 perfume. Overhead, the bird singers trilled their 
 songs, and the squirrels sat at their doors chattering 
 a welcome to each one as he passed. 
 7*
 
 78 DOIVNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 Try as she would, there was a thread of sadness 
 in Di's heart. Wandering away, she seated herself 
 on a fallen. tree. Back through the years. How dis- 
 tinctly they swept before her. The hours of loneli- 
 ness and sharp, stinging pain ; the struggles, trials, 
 aims, and hopes ; the reaching up to a higher life. 
 Then the gloom, the despondency, striving to at- 
 tain, and not attaining; and only the more conscious 
 of the deceitfulness of her own heart, the want of 
 firm endeavor in the attempt to do. 
 
 "Moralizing, Daisy?" and Mr. Hawley crossed 
 the river on a trembling plank. 
 
 " Only thinking, Mr. Hawley, how small it all 
 seems." 
 
 " All the pleasure, or the trouble ? " 
 
 " Both." 
 
 " I did not suppose that you had made deep ac- 
 quaintance with the latter." 
 
 " My share," and a strange, sad smile lit up Di's 
 face. 
 
 " We are privileged to live in the sunshine. Clouds 
 may obscure it for a moment, but with the next 
 breath they are gone. So with our spiritual and in- 
 ner life. Only keep in the sunshine of His love." 
 
 " Can we always do this ? " and Daisy glanced up 
 with an expression that revealed the hungering of 
 her own heart. 
 
 " To live in the sunshine of His love is only to 
 live constantly in His presence. This is the privilege 
 granted to us. We cannot be very miserable when 
 permitted to live with those we love."
 
 /? O WN' WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 79 
 
 "But there are times when He seems so far away." 
 , " That is because we stray away from Him, seek- 
 ing our own pleasure, turning our backs^ upon the 
 tender, loving face, not caring to hear the sweetly 
 persuasive accents * Come unto me.' Lonely and 
 sad as we may be, all we have to do is to go to Him ; 
 and not only is He a friend willing to receive us, but 
 He runs to meet us, to embrace, and fold us to His 
 heart, blotting out our transgressions for His own 
 sake. When in trouble or in doubt, cast down and 
 friendless it may be, we have only to grasp His 
 hand tightly." 
 
 " I knew this, Mr. Hawley ; but I do not always 
 realize it. I am afraid that I do not reach out after 
 this hand." 
 
 *' Spiritual growth, as the physical, is gradual. 
 These towering oaks were once tender saplings; sun- 
 shine has warmed them into life, and storms and 
 tempests have strengthened them. They never 
 would have stood so firmly, but for the winds that 
 for the time seemed about to destroy them. We 
 cannot come to our full stature without conflict, — self 
 has to be subdued, unyielding will brought into sub- 
 jection; and this cannot be effected without a sharp 
 and bitter struggle." 
 
 " But when we feel that the contest has been 
 waged, to find so much strife and commotion, and 
 just at a time, perhaps, when in no mood to battle 
 with it," said Daisy. 
 
 " So long as we are in the flesh, so long the war- 
 fare will continue. ' Give us this day,' is our prayer."
 
 8o DO WN WA R D A XD UP WA R D. 
 
 "This in itself is discouraging; if we could only 
 feel that we accomplished something," and there was 
 a weary look on Di's face. 
 
 "Life is compared to a journey," continued Mr. 
 Hawley ; " we do not take it all at once. Each day 
 we take advance steps ; night finds us farther on our 
 way than when we started in the morning, still the 
 journey is not accomplished ; refreshed by needful 
 rest, we are to set out again." 
 
 " Dinner is nearly ready, and your reverence will 
 be called for," said Dr. Landseer, as he flung himself 
 at his length on the grass. 
 
 " A day like this lifts one up to the full height of 
 humanity. I feel that I shall be a better man, my 
 whole after-life gladdened by this little trip," and 
 the doctor looked up at the white cloud-ships sailing 
 above him. 
 
 " Doctors, of all people, need rest occasionally," 
 replied Mr. Hawley. " There is a constant strain 
 upon their vital energies. The cask that is always 
 giving out will sometime run dry." 
 
 " Rest is as much a Christian grace as action ; 
 and a grace that is practically overlooked by most 
 of us. ' Onward ' is the motto, and away we go 
 with railroad speed, rushing through life without a 
 pause to drink in the beauty of the way. It is this 
 that breaks down American life so early, this con- 
 tinual onward move without regard to age or sex ; 
 afraid, if they stop, that their neighbor will shoot 
 ahead, and only brought up at last by the hard bit 
 of necessity," continued Dr. Landseer.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 8l 
 
 " Dinner is waiting," and this time the order was 
 imperative. A novel dinner, surely, — white cloths 
 spread on the grass, and surrounded by groups care- 
 less, cosy, chatting and laughing with all the abandon 
 of out-door life. Meals taken in this way are sure 
 to be seasoned with good appetites, and the rich 
 wine of enjoyment circulated freely. 
 
 "This has been a good day," said Ellen, as she 
 walked home with her hand in Dr. Landseer's. 
 
 " And you have enjoyed it ? " 
 
 " If papa could only have been here." 
 
 " I must go back to-morrow. Suppose you write 
 and tell him your wish ; and I will try and send him 
 out earlier than he thought it possible for him to 
 leave." 
 
 " Do you think they are happier at the sea-side ? 
 Mamma writes that she gets so tired bathing, 
 dressing, and visiting. I wonder if they are hap- 
 pier?" asked Ellen. 
 
 *' Happiness is an ambiguous word. Of one thing 
 we can be assured, we have had a happy time," and 
 the doctor pointed to the crimson clouds, and the 
 bars of gold bridging the meadow. 
 
 "A day that I shall not forget. I will write to 
 papa; and you must tell him, Dr. Landseer." 
 
 Proud as a man may be of his physical strength 
 and of his intellectual capacity, when his heart is 
 stirred, he is as weak as a child. Dr. Landseer had 
 been living in the past for the last two weeks. It 
 was over now; the work-day life was before him. 
 
 F
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 
 
 THERE was hardly a walk in and about Tipton 
 which Daisy had not discovered ; and since 
 Dr. Landseer left, Seth and Lydia had been more 
 frequently with her. In this way there were many 
 items of village history creeping out, and by degrees 
 Daisy became more or less acquainted with every 
 family. Bronzed as Seth was, and dressed in home- 
 spun, there was nothing rude about him ; and his 
 conversation showed culture that surprised Daisy, 
 the more frequently she listened to him. Willing 
 as he was to give all information with regard to 
 country life, he had countless questions to ask of the 
 city, contrasting and drawing conclusions full of wit 
 and good-humor. 
 
 "You have not been to the ' Devil's Den,'" said 
 Lydia, one morning, as Daisy was planning an ex- 
 tensive excursion for the day. 
 
 "I had no idea his majesty had a den in this re- 
 gion." 
 
 ** It 's a lovely place ; though I can 't imagine why 
 they gave it such a wicked name," continued Lydia. 
 
 " Years ago it was likely wilder than it is now ; and 
 it may have been used as a place of ambush for 
 wrong-doers. At any rate, it has borne that name 
 
 8:
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 83 
 
 ever since I knew anything about it," said Mrs 
 White. 
 
 " I hardly think I can go with you this morning," 
 Seth repHed. " I have to go to mill, and the mare 
 wants a shoe. Will you be afraid to go alone ? " 
 
 " There 's nothing to fear, is there ? " 
 
 " Nothing but the name," and Seth laughed 
 heartily. 
 
 " My curiosity is excited. I must see this formid- 
 able place." 
 
 " Will you take me for a guide ? " asked Lydia. 
 
 " I shall be glad to have your company." 
 
 ** And I may go ? " asked Ellen. 
 
 " Will you go with them, or take a ride with me," 
 asked Seth. ** I can put the bags under the seat, 
 and throw a blanket over them." 
 
 " I am not afraid of meal-bags. Am I free to de- 
 cide, Di ? " 
 
 " That means, are you free to give Seth the prefer- 
 ence ? " and there was a quizzical look on Di's face. 
 
 " I would rather go to ride, Di." 
 
 " There is no reason why you should not." 
 
 " But you won't laugh at me ? " 
 
 " Laugh at you ! I hardly know but I would like 
 to go with Seth myself." 
 
 Seth was putting Dolly into the light wagon. 
 
 " Pity we had n't two seats ; then all could go," 
 added Mrs. White, as Seth adjusted the buckles. 
 
 Di was making Ellen ready. 
 
 "A responsible little charge," exclaimed Seth, as 
 he lifted Ellen into the seat.
 
 84 DO IV N WA RD A ND UP IV A R D. 
 
 " Mind you tell me all about the mill and the 
 blacksmith's shop," said Daisy, as Dolly trotted 
 down the road. 
 
 " If you go, you had better start right off," said 
 Mrs. White. " The sun will be hot in an hour or two. 
 Wonder if Seth took an umbrella ? That little thing 
 will just wilt down." 
 
 " I don't believe he did. No, here it is. Shall I 
 run after him, mother?" asked Lydia. 
 
 *' Dolly gets over the ground too fast for that, child. 
 Seth is a boy who thinks ; and if it gets too warm, he 
 will borrow one." 
 
 It was a perfect day, — the sun, like a great gold 
 ball suspended in an arch of blue ; the white, fleecy 
 clouds looked like clustering snowflakes, cool, spot- 
 less, and inviting. 
 
 " I never see a cloud like that, but I want to hide 
 myself in it. I like clouds. I can't help it," said 
 Lydia, w^th a nervous force, giving Daisy to under- 
 stand that, like her love, she could n't help it. 
 
 " I have to confess to a love for clouds. There is 
 a purity about them especially inviting." 
 
 " Mother says that it is a waste of time to watch 
 them ; but they float easily ; and when once I look, 
 I have to look again, and before I am done, I want 
 to be up there." 
 
 " Clouds are but mist. The white, fleecy ones are 
 those that you seem to admire," Daisy continued. 
 
 "They are not just like the black ones, gathering 
 up and rolling from one part of the sky to another. 
 I can't tell which I like best. There are different
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 85 
 
 thoughts with each. When I look at the white ones, 
 I think how good God is to make everything so 
 beautiful ; and the black ones make me think of his 
 power, the angry sweep of his eye ; and still I like 
 to hear him speak in the thunder," and Lydia 
 stopped suddenly, and a deep blush overspread her 
 face. 
 
 ''Don't be afraid to talk of the clouds and your 
 love for them. God has hung them for curtains ; not 
 to hide his face, but to veil his glory." 
 
 " We are little more than half-way there. Are you 
 tired ? " and Lydia perched herself on the stile that 
 separated one field from another. 
 
 ** Not a bit," replied Daisy, mounting the steps. 
 
 " It's a good place to look from. I don't know 
 which is the best," continued Lydia. 
 
 *' The sky or the earth ?" 
 
 " There 's always something to see ; just as though 
 He thought we 'd forget if left to ourselves." 
 
 " Do you love flowers ? " 
 
 " I never have enough of them ; especially the 
 little wild ones. Mr. Hawley has told me a good 
 deal about them. That 's one thing I like him for." 
 
 ** You can analyze them ? " 
 
 " Tell the order, class, and species by the number 
 of stamens and pistils ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Mr. Hawley taught Seth, and I learned what I 
 could. Seth always goes over the lesson with me." 
 
 Hardly knowing it, a great respect grew up for 
 the little maiden. " Here is one doing what she
 
 86 DO WN WA RD A ND UP W A R D. 
 
 can, — loving God, and reading the lesson of his love 
 through his works ; while I, with more ample privi- 
 leges, am often murmuring," thought Daisy. 
 
 " The sun is getting higher ; we had better start," 
 said Lydia, after a pause, " I hope there won't be 
 anybody at the * Den ' this morning." 
 
 '* Is it much frequented ? " 
 
 "The minister's folks like to go there; it's just 
 back of their house," and Lydia jumped down, and 
 commenced her walk. 
 
 " It 's a good day to go to the corners ; Ellen will 
 enjoy it. I wanted to go ; but then it's nothing new 
 to me. I know every inch of ground ; and Seth said 
 he 'd bring me what I want." 
 
 *' It was amiable in you to stay at home, and let 
 Ellen take your place," said Daisy. 
 
 " I don't know ; it makes me happy to think that 
 she will enjoy it." 
 
 " That 's a right view to take of it ; it 's not every 
 one that does it, however." 
 
 " Mother says I like to have my own way ; and so 
 I do : but here we are, almost before I had thought 
 of it," and Lydia stopped suddenly. 
 
 The place indicated as the " Devil's Den " was in a 
 long ravine, the sides well wooded with a thick un- 
 dergrowth, in places almost impenetrable with cling- 
 mg vines and interlacing branches. The sun could 
 hardly penetrate the dense foliage, and it was dark 
 and cold. Daisy shook and trembled. 
 
 ** Are you afraid ? " 
 
 *' From the tropics to the pole is enough to make
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 8/ 
 
 one tremble," replied Daisy. *' Let us see if we can 
 get into the sunshine." 
 
 " It will be difficult to find it here." 
 
 Narrow paths wound along the sides, and steps 
 were worn in the hard soil, rendering the descent 
 easy. Calm as it was in the outer world, a breeze 
 rippled through the tree -tops, and a weird song 
 floated upward. 
 
 "You always hear that. Seth calls it the organ," 
 and Lydia held back the boughs with her hands. 
 
 At the extremity of the ravine there was a cave, 
 framed in with rocks, seamed and moss-covered. A 
 rivulet trickled down the shelving side, and the stones 
 beneath were slippery, tangled vines interlaced, and 
 the branches of trees overlapped each other. 
 
 "A fitting name do you call it?" and Lydia's eyes 
 were raised to Di's face. 
 
 "A fairy grotto, a home for the wood-nymphs 
 rather. If there was only an opening for the sun- 
 rays, would n't it be lovely?" 
 
 ** Seth has often thought of that ; he says it would 
 have to be cut away a good deal, and the effect would 
 not be as good. I can show you a bit of sunshine, 
 if it's not too early; the girls used to come here with 
 their books at recess. It is nice and cool; but so 
 pretty, we could n't study; and the birds were always 
 singing and the squirrels chattering. They seemed 
 to like it just as we did, because of the sunshine " 
 
 Leaving Daisy at the mouth of the cave, Lydia 
 stepped over the sharp stones, climbing up the bank, 
 swinging from point to point by taking hold of the
 
 88 D WNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 branches. Agile as Daisy was, she found it difficult 
 to keep up. 
 
 " Hush ! she 's there." 
 
 '* Who 's there ? " and Daisy was startled at the 
 snapping of a dry limb under her feet. 
 
 *' Mrs. Lisle, the minister's sister." 
 
 " The crazy woman ? " 
 
 *' Yes. Let us go back," and Lydia began to re- 
 trace her steps. 
 
 " There 's no cause to fear her. Let us speak to 
 her." 
 
 ** She 's just as white as a sheet," and Lydia 
 pressed still nearer to Daisy. 
 
 Instantly, Nathan's words flashed across Daisy's 
 brain, and, following along the path, she came into 
 a little glade, bright with sunshine. Seated on the 
 mossy carpet was a young, slender woman, her white 
 dress falling loosely, a bright-colored shawl flung 
 over her shoulders, and her long black hair threaded 
 with silver. She held a book in her hand, and 
 whether reading or talking, Daisy could not tell. One 
 look at the pale, sad face, and Daisy would have 
 gladly made a retreat, it seemed like intrusion ; and 
 already had she turned, when the woman raised her 
 eyes, and rising with a graceful dignity began to talk 
 as to one whom she had been waiting for. 
 
 Daisy was no longer frightened; she knew this was 
 not unfrequently the manner with those bereft of 
 reason; and she allowed herself to be led back to the 
 seat, while the sick woman petted and caressed her, 
 patting her face, then holding her a little from her
 
 D OWNWARD AND UPWARD. 89 
 
 and looking into her eyes with the utmost tender- 
 ness, all the while talking in a low, sad tone. 
 
 ** She 's thinking of her child," thought Daisy, and 
 all unconsciously what she knew of her own history 
 came up. Of course there was nothing in common 
 but the grief Her parents were English, and this 
 woman was an American ; it made her think of it, 
 that was all, and the tears trickled slowly down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 Not knowing but it would lead to excitement on 
 the part of the invalid, she at length won her to go 
 home, by promising to accompany her. Giving her 
 arm, they entered a path, comparatively smooth, 
 leading directly to Mr. Hawley's house. Daisy had 
 twice been there ; but she had not met with this 
 woman, neither had she heard the name. Nathan's 
 woods were the key. Before they reached the gate 
 Mr. Hawley met them. 
 
 ** We have been to the ravine, and coming out we 
 intruded upon this invalid. I did not know her 
 habit, and I persuaded her to come home. Was it 
 right?" and Daisy made an attempt to disengage 
 herself 
 
 " You did right, and I am obliged to you ; I had 
 just started for her as I saw you coming. I am 
 surprised at the fondness she expresses for you It 
 is not her manner to notice strangers in the least." 
 
 ** She evidently imagines me to be some one 
 whom she has known. Is there no help, Mr. 
 Hawley?" 
 
 "All the skill in the country has been brought to 
 8*
 
 90 DOIVNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 bear upon her case. Her sadness seems to deepen 
 each day, and of late her physical health has failed 
 perceptibly." 
 
 Soothing and quieting more by his manner than 
 by his words, Mr. Hawley succeeded in winning her 
 to walk with him, leaving Daisy and Lydia to pass 
 on. 
 
 "It's no use," Mrs. White said, as Lydia related 
 the incident. " If she could be helped, she would 
 have been years ago. 'T was a cruel thing, and 
 somebody will have to answer for it. I 've heard 
 .say the child would have inherited a large fortune, 
 and on that account she was made way with. Poor 
 little thing ! it 's almost a pity her mother could n't 
 have died with her." 
 
 Seth and Ellen did not return until sundown ; and 
 then there was so much to relate of the mill and the 
 blacksmith's-shop. 
 
 "You have not told me of your walk," said Ellen, 
 as she turned to Daisy. 
 
 *' Some other time I will tell you ; it is too late, 
 and you must rest."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OVER THE FARM. 
 
 AS the summer deepened, new diversions offered. 
 It was a novel thing for Daisy and Ellen to 
 mount Seth's cart, and drive over the farm, — going 
 with him to bring the cows at night, or to carry salt 
 to the sheep pastures, placing it upon the grass, 
 and watching the gentle creatures run across the 
 field as Seth called them with a peculiar whistle, 
 which the girls tried in vain to imitate. 
 
 One of the chief attractions had been to watch 
 the mower. Mrs. White's fields were small, but 
 when the grass was ready, a neighboring farmer 
 came with a noble pair of matches, driving as 
 proudly, Ellen said, as he would have done in a 
 carriage, — the grass falling behind him like troops 
 of gallant soldiers. 
 
 " It 's nice ; but not half as pretty as the old way," 
 Nathan said, as he crossed his arms and leaned over 
 the fence. 
 
 " How was that, Nathan ? " 
 
 " You remember that old scythe hanging up in 
 the barn ? The men, a dozen of them, perhaps, for 
 such a field, stripped off their coats, and, grasping 
 the scythe by the handles, swung it steadily back- 
 
 91
 
 92 DO WN WARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 ward and forward, leaving a clean swathe behind 
 them. It was a beautiful thing to look at, but hard 
 work to do it. Many's the swathe that I have cut; 
 and every now and then some one stopped to whet 
 his scythe, keeping up perpetual music." 
 
 " How long ago was that, Nathan ? " 
 
 " Not so very long; I'm not an old man yet. Be- 
 sides, there 's plenty of farmers who do it now. These 
 new-fangled notions cost a sight ; only rich men can 
 have 'em." 
 
 " I should regard it as a very great improvement," 
 said Daisy, looking back at the mower. 
 
 " He will finish pretty quick; after it is sufficiently 
 dry, he will put one horse to a smaller machine, and 
 rake it up into winroes," added Nathan. 
 
 " I never knew what haymaking was before," said 
 Ellen. " I think it's nice to live in the country any 
 way; and I like to bring home the cows: they seem 
 to know just when we are coming, standing at the 
 bars, and turning their great wondering eyes upon 
 us; and I do believe they know Daisy's voice and 
 mine just as well as they do Seth's." 
 
 " Folks that live in the country like it. We can't 
 have everything in one place, though. What you 
 have we haven't, and again we have a great many 
 things that we wouldn't exchange for city life. 
 Think of going home soon ? " 
 
 ** If we could only persuade papa to come out. I 
 do want him to see just how nice everything is," 
 replied Ellen. 
 
 " Would you like to live here for good ? " 
 
 " If papa was here."
 
 DOWNIVARD AND UPWARD. 93 
 
 " Perhaps he could n't content himself with butter- 
 flies and birds' nests. Old eyes miss something 
 when they come out." 
 
 *' You don't know papa, Nathan. If he comes, you 
 must see him. I know he will like it." 
 
 Not a week but Mr. Delafield sent them letters. 
 Still it was only a vague idea, his leaving the city. 
 Mrs. Delafield sometimes favored them, and Kate 
 and Agnes added a postscript; but, unlike the 
 father's,' leading Ellen to say, as she finished: "I 
 wonder what makes mamma tired? Rachel is there; 
 and still she can never give me but a line, she has so 
 much to do." 
 
 "She has to go out a good deal, I presume;" and, 
 with accustomed tact, Daisy turned the conversation 
 into other channels. 
 
 " I am going to the village. Have you letters ? " 
 and Seth rode up on Dolly's back. 
 
 " No letters to go out. You will please bring some 
 when you return." 
 
 ''From the office? or shall I write you one?" 
 asked Seth, good-humoredly. 
 
 " As time is pressing, we will not exact a letter on 
 short notice," and Daisy patted Dolly's neck, and 
 slipped her fingers through the long black mane. 
 
 "Want a ride just two minutes long?" and Seth 
 put out his long arms and swung Ellen up before 
 him. A merry laugh rippled through the rose-leaves, 
 and Dolly went cantering down the walk and along 
 the flower-beds. 
 
 " I Ve been trying all summer to get a saddle. 
 Lydia has begged me. She knew you would like it;
 
 94 DOWNWAR D AND UPWARD. 
 
 but mother felt she could not quite afford it. Come 
 up next summer, and we '11 have it," and Dolly 
 wheeled up to the porch. 
 
 " Glorious ! is n't it? " and Ellen's cheeks looked 
 almost as rosy as Lydia's. 
 
 As Seth started, Daisy proposed a visit to Mrs. 
 Orcutt. " I told Nathan that we would call this week, 
 and it is the last day." 
 
 " If you go, I will give you a bottle of elderberry. 
 I have n't enough for everybody ; but I 've known 
 Mrs. Orcutt nigh upon thirty years now. She 's a 
 good woman in every sense of the word." 
 
 " What may I take, Mrs. White ? " 
 
 " You shall carry something, child. Lydia can't 
 go to-night; I want her. I don't know. Nathan is 
 a good provider. I suppose his mother never wants 
 for anything. It 's only neighborly to think of her 
 when she 's sick ; and sometimes things cooked out 
 of the house taste better. There 's my nice rusks for 
 Sunday; I guess I'll send some of them." 
 
 ** And that little pie you baked for me, mother." 
 
 " Don't you want it, child ? " 
 
 "I know it's nice; but I'd rather she'd have it, 
 mother." 
 
 *' I declare, I never saw such a girl. I just believe 
 you 'd give away all you have. I like generosity ; 
 but this giving away all is a little too much." 
 
 " I have all I want," and Lydia tripped into the 
 pantry, her sleeves rolled up, and her white arms 
 ready for whatever her mother desired her to do. 
 
 " Tell Aunt Margaret it 's nigh upon seven years 
 old. If this don't set her up, I don't know what
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 95 
 
 will ; " and Mrs. White brought a bottle of wine 
 from the cellar and gave it to Daisy, with a basket 
 of rusks, and the pie to Ellen. 
 
 " I shall tell her who sent it," and Ellen threw a 
 bright glance at Lydia. 
 
 It was a lovely evening, and the two chatted gayly 
 as they went down the road. A few weeks of out- 
 door life had made a great difference with Ellen. 
 Her forehead was brown from exposure, and her 
 cheeks tinged with health. No longer was she 
 obliged to measure her exercise by her strength. 
 She could safely challenge Lydia to a race, and her 
 dresses were all too small for her. 
 
 ** Something makes mamma sad," Ellen said, after 
 exhausting all her enthusiasm on the beauty of the 
 evening. '* I am sometimes afraid it is Jay and 
 Cyrus. I can 't see why they have to spend so much. 
 Seth is a great deal happier than they are, and he 
 hardly ever has any money of his own." 
 
 " Seth cares more about books," said Daisy ; and 
 she once more endeavored to talk of something else. 
 Ellen would not be diverted. She was anticipating 
 letters when Seth returned, and her little active brain 
 was already on the alert. 
 
 *' If they could see papa as I have seen him, they 'd 
 do differently. I just know what I '11 do ; I '11 tell 
 them. I will not see him troubled. If he would 
 only come out here. Or, Daisy, don't you think we 
 can persuade him to stay ? " 
 
 "His business is in the city, and it might not be 
 easy for him to make the change ; " and Daisy 
 plucked a buttercup, and held it under Ellen's chin.
 
 96 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 Mrs. Orcutt's house was a brown, one-story build- 
 ing, on the outskirts of the village, — a small yard 
 in front, filled with lilacs, roses, and mountain ash. 
 In the background a well, with a long sweep, shel- 
 tered by a towering elm. Maples bordered the road- 
 side, and a happier-looking place was not to be found. 
 Nathan had made his accustomed rounds, and sat 
 smoking in the door, his coat thrown aside, and a 
 general air of enjoyment pervading his entire being^ 
 
 '' Do not let us disturb you," Daisy said, as Nathan 
 laid down his pipe, snatched up his coat, and came 
 forward to meet them. 
 
 " It 's no trouble for me to see ladies any time. 
 I've often told mother >ou ought not to come just 
 when you know I 'm away. I brought you here, and 
 I think I Ve about as good a right to see you now 
 and then as anybody." 
 
 " It has not been convenient for us to come when 
 you w^ere likely to be here, Nathan. We were quite 
 sure of you to-night," said Daisy. 
 
 " Mother will be glad to see you. She is much 
 better to-day. Walk right in." 
 
 It was not the first time Daisy and Ellen had been 
 to Mrs. Orcutt's house, and the room wore a familiar 
 look. Seated in her arm-chair, her white hair put 
 back under a muslin cap, her calico wrapper fresh 
 and clean, with spectacles on her nose, the good 
 woman was reading. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, children," she said, as she 
 held out her arms. " It is good of you to remember 
 an old woman like me."
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 97 
 
 " I am glad to see that you are able to read," said 
 Daisy, lifting the book. 
 
 " It 's a great comfort to me. Lying on my bed, 
 and racked with pain, I could think of His love. His 
 arms were underneath me. My little life was dear 
 to Him. But I like to read His word ; and the more 
 I read, the dearer it is to me. It is a precious privi- 
 lege to love Jesus. I am glad to know that you are 
 striving to follow Him in your youth." 
 
 ** I sometimes fear that I do not love Him in sin- 
 cerity. I find so much evil in my heart — so many 
 foolish, wicked thoughts." 
 
 " Yours is not a peculiar case. Paul knew what it 
 was. It is only by His grace that we overcome; and 
 the discipline of years is necessary for a ripe growth 
 of Christian experience and love." 
 
 " Sometimes I feel that I am making some advance 
 — sure that I shall never again feel like questioning 
 His love or doubting His faithfulness ; the next, and 
 I find myself desponding, the glory of His face hid 
 from my view." 
 
 " I used to be troubled that way more than I am 
 
 now," replied the invalid. " I used to feel that, small 
 
 as I was, and poor. He might forget me. I read His 
 
 promises, but I did not dare to take them to myself 
 
 I tortured myself by thinking that they were intended 
 
 for somebody else. It was not until I lost well-nigh 
 
 everything that I learned to trust Him — that I 
 
 learned to take Him at His word: * Whosoever will.' 
 
 There are not two words in the whole book so dear 
 
 to me as these. * Whosoever:' there 's no shutting 
 9 G
 
 qS do wn wa rd a nd up wa r d. 
 
 out ; the poorest may come, the weakest, the most 
 ignorant ; there is no danger of being forgotten. 
 Jesus knows his own, and they are known of Him ; 
 neither shall they ever be plucked out of His hand, 
 ' Whosoever will.' I knew that meant me : I was 
 sure of it ; and I have been happy ever since." 
 
 Nathan had been with Ellen into the garden, and 
 they had returned with their hands full of flowers 
 and a basket of early apples. 
 
 "Just about as nice as you'll see anywhere, I guess. 
 The nectarines are not quite turned. In general, the 
 fruit is quite fine this season. When did you hear 
 from your father ? " 
 
 " It is a week since. Seth has gone to the office. 
 We shall probably find letters when we reach home." 
 ** If he '11 come in a week or two, he '11 find plenty 
 of everything to eat, better than anything to be found 
 in the city. Market fruit has not the freshness, 
 neither the flavor, as when picked from the tree." 
 
 Before they left, Nathan showed them through the 
 apple orchard, and Ellen's delight was unbounded 
 as she passed under limbs weighed down with rich 
 golden fruit. Going home, Mr. Hawley joined them, 
 and before Daisy was aware, she was telling him her 
 own little history, the circumstances under which she 
 went to live with Mr. Delafield, etc. 
 
 ** It is only about twelve years since?" asked Mr. 
 Hawley, absently. 
 
 "Nearly thirteen. Ellen was a little thing — a baby." 
 "And you were judged to be three or four years 
 old?"
 
 D WN IV A RD A ND UP WA R D. 99 
 
 " So I have been told." 
 
 Mr. Hawley shook his head. All day there had 
 been a tangled thread. Of course there was no 
 accounting for the fancies of delirium ; but the inva- 
 lid's fondness for Daisy was each day increasing, and 
 under the influence of her presence the poor woman 
 showed less of mental disorder. Durino; several 
 interviews, Mr. Hawley had watched her carefully, 
 and there was evidently some spell or influence that 
 he did not understand ; such a look of rest on the 
 invalid's face, such deep tenderness in the eyes, and, 
 as soon as separated, a sorrow deeper, more impene- 
 trable than before. But it was fifteen in the room of 
 thirteen years. Of course it could not be the same. 
 And to his study the good clergyman went, feeling 
 oppressed with a question that it was in vain for him 
 to unravel. 
 
 The stars were out when Seth returned — he had 
 been unexpectedly detained — and he placed a pack- 
 age of letters and papers upon the table. 
 
 ** Not one from papa!" exclaimed Ellen, as she 
 looked them over. 
 
 "Here is one from Dr. Landseer;" and Daisy 
 broke the envelope. 
 
 " He must be coming ; on his way, perhaps, and 
 the doctor has written to have us prepared," said 
 Ellen, gayly. 
 
 " No, Ellen,"- as Daisy ran her eye over the page. 
 " Papa is ill, very ill. Dr. Landseer says we must 
 come at once. We must ask Nathan to take us to 
 the cars, and the doctor will meet us at the depot."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SICK CHAMBER. 
 
 THE transition from the charming abandon of out- 
 door life to a sick room would have been felt, 
 had Daisy and Ellen found time to think of them- 
 selves. Mr. Delafield was seriously ill, and the ut- 
 most care was needful, if his life was to be saved. 
 Hearing of his illness, and knowing that his wife and 
 daughters were absent, Mrs. Clayton hastened to offer 
 her assistance, and Dr. Landseer did not refuse it. 
 
 " We will send for Daisy," he said. " She has a 
 ready hand ; and Ellen will prove no drawback. 
 For the rest, I shall let them remain where they are." 
 
 " Your father is very ill," Dr. Landseer said to 
 Ellen, as she rushed forward to meet him. " It is 
 possible that he will recover; and if he does, it will 
 depend more upon nursing than upon medicines. 
 Control yourself, and go in and out of the room just 
 as though you had not been away. Say and do 
 nothing to excite him. And you," turning to Daisy, 
 "will quickly see what is wanting. I depend upon 
 you. Mrs. Clayton is a good woman. She will not 
 leave the house, and I will do what I can." With 
 this, the doctor left them at their own door. 
 
 Mrs. Clayton anticipated their coming, and stood 
 in the hall ready to receive them.
 
 DOWNWARDAND UPWARD. lOI 
 
 "Mr. Delafield is very ill; but, if it please God, he 
 will recover," she said, as she held them in her arms. 
 There was strength and hope in the words ; and 
 pushing down the sobs, the two girls ran up to their 
 room. Hastily throwing off her travelling-dress, 
 Daisy put on a light wrapper and slippers, taking 
 care that there was nothing to rustle, or disturb the 
 invalid. Ellen attired herself in the same manner ; 
 and, following at a little distance apart, both stood in 
 the sick chamber. 
 
 Illness makes strange havoc with the faces of those 
 we love ; and as Daisy looked at the wasted cheeks, 
 crimson with fever, and the wild, restless eyes, she 
 trembled like an aspen. Wearily the invalid tossed on 
 his bed, and Ellen's name was murmured fondly. Mrs. 
 Clayton made a sign to the child. Gliding to the bed- 
 side, she laid her cool hand on the throbbing temples. 
 
 " Now, then, that is like my own little girl. The 
 days have been long since I missed my little fairy." 
 
 " Papa, dear papa, " and the rosy lips trembled on 
 the flushed forehead. 
 
 " There ! there ! that is like her," and the wild eyes 
 softened. Did he know her? She was not sure; 
 but she felt that her presence was a comfort to him, 
 and, sinking on her knees, she soothed the aching 
 head till he slept. 
 
 From that moment, Daisy and Ellen never left 
 him, and Mrs. Clayton watched with a mother's so- 
 licitude over each. 
 
 Dr. Landseer, from motives of his own, had not 
 informed Mrs. Delafield of the danger. He had
 
 102 DOWNWARD ^ N-D UPWARD. 
 
 merely written that her husband was ill, at the same 
 time advising her to remain. Mrs. Clayton was there, 
 and ev^erything was being done. If her presence was 
 necessary, he would let her know. 
 
 *' It will be fatal to have those rustlincf G^irls," he 
 said to Mrs. Clayton. ** I will send for Daisy and 
 Ellen ; and besides these a soul shall not enter his 
 room." 
 
 Dr. Landseer was as good as his word. The waves 
 of dissipation rolling back from the sea-shore, "Send 
 for Di immediately," returned Mrs. Delafield. " She 
 is a far better nurse than I am. It is now in the 
 height of the season. Kate and Agnes would break 
 their hearts, should I oblige them to return." 
 
 " They need not break their hearts," said the doctor, 
 under his breath. ** There 's another way of doing 
 it, I 'm afraid ; " and he wrote to Mrs. Delafield to 
 remain, and watched and waited to see how the scale 
 would turn. 
 
 Through all those dreary days the invalid hardly 
 knew one lucid moment, while Daisy was compelled 
 to listen to many a revelation from which she would 
 gladly have escaped. Without attempting to unravel, 
 she saw that perplexity in business had much to do 
 with it ; and bills of unthought-of expenditure floated 
 out in incoherent words and half-uttered syllables. 
 These must have been contracted by Jay and Cyrus^ 
 for, expensive as the young ladies were, the items 
 enumerated could not have been set down to their 
 account. When the invalid was in this mood, Daisy 
 attempted, as far as possible, to remove Ellen and
 
 D O WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. IO3 
 
 Mrs, Clayton. Ellen could not command herself, 
 and Daisy could not bear that Mrs. Clayton should 
 have the key to so much trouble. 
 
 " Do people in delirium usually talk of what 
 troubled them in health ? " Daisy asked of Dr. 
 Landseer. 
 
 " It depends upon the cause that produced delir- 
 ium. Brooding long over one subject tends to throw 
 the mind off the track. In that case, the tangled 
 threads and broken links would cling with more or 
 less tenacity to the subject in question. Do not be 
 too much troubled. Mr. Delafield has been greatly 
 perplexed. These boys are making him a great deal 
 of trouble. Buoyed up by their father's wealth, they 
 have run into all kinds of excess. For two years 
 their bills have been enormous, and Mr. Delafield 
 sees that, if this course is continued, it will crush 
 him. It was this that kept him through all the sum- 
 mer days so closely at his desk ; and here is the 
 result." 
 
 At length there came a change, — a day wnen the 
 fever left him ; and he lay white and still, and almost 
 as helpless as an infant. Tears ran down his cheeks, 
 and his lips trembled, as Ellen put her arms around 
 his neck. 
 
 " Dear papa, you have been so sick; and we could 
 do nothing but watch and wait, and tell Jesus. He 
 has been pleased to make you better. I could not 
 live without you, papa." 
 
 It was a happy hour for Daisy, when Mr. Delafield 
 looked into her face, and knew whose hand minis- 
 tered to his wants.
 
 1 04 DO IVN WA RD A ND UP W A R D. 
 
 " And you have been with me through this terrible 
 fever," he said, at length. 
 
 " You had been ill but a few days when we re- 
 turned," Daisy replied. 
 
 " I remember, the day before I took my bed, I felt 
 that I must send for you. But when I thought of 
 your passing the summer so happily, and the health 
 my little girl was drinking in, as the effect of out-door 
 life and exercise, I could not find it in my heart to 
 do it." 
 
 " I am only sorry that you did not send at once. 
 It might have saved you days of suffering. As it is, 
 we must do our best. The doctor says care is only 
 wanting to have you up again." 
 
 " Dr. Landseer is a good man as well as a good 
 physician. I owe him more than I can ever pay." 
 
 There was nothing like conversation in Mr. Dela- 
 field's room. Still, words were dropped, destined to 
 take root and bring forth fruit. Mr. Delafield had 
 never been a religious man ; but there was some- 
 thing in Ellen's speech, and in the book she read, 
 that thrilled him with new and strange emotion. 
 Religion was not the myth that he had thought it to 
 be. There was form and comeliness, and instinctively 
 he began to question. Gradually light dawned upon 
 his understanding. Not that he saw clearly. As 
 the blind man saw men as trees, walking, so Mr. 
 Delafield saw the rich truths of divine grace and 
 love. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, these days of convales- 
 cence were the happiest he had known. A soft and
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. IO5 
 
 soothing quiet had crept over him, and he longed to 
 have it always last. Fruit is not gathered from neg- 
 lected vines, and gold is not garnered without plan- 
 ning. Business pressed heavily; the wants of a 
 household must be met. 
 
 " I am well enough to lay aside my gown and 
 staff," said Mr. Delafield, as he walked across the 
 room without the aid of Daisy's arm. " It was a 
 fearful illness; but I have really enjoyed getting 
 well." 
 
 " Not half as much as we have, papa," and Ellen 
 slid her hand into her father's. " How nice it would 
 be, could we live in this way all the time. I mean 
 to read and talk just as we have been doing. When 
 mamma comes back, the house will be full, and we 
 shall never see you, papa." 
 
 A cloud settled on the thin face. Ellen had 
 touched a chord that vibrated through his being. 
 What a false, hollow life ! Not that Mr. Delafield 
 was unsocial, but this constant whirl and dazzle, the 
 glittering tinsel of a v/orldly creed, "to do as others 
 do," regardless of home and comfort. Mrs. Dela- 
 field did not court display for herself. As a mother, 
 she felt it to be imperative ; the welfare of her 
 daughters demanded it ; and if she would, she had 
 not the courage to set the example of cultivating the 
 hearts and the heads of her daughters. Such a 
 course would be called eccentric, or, what was worse, 
 strong-mindedness. Mrs. Delafield was not a woman 
 to clamor ** for rights." She honored her husband. It 
 was not in her nature to assume the least of his pre-
 
 I06 DO ]VN \VA R D A XD UP WA R D. 
 
 rogatives. Her realm was in the affections, and she 
 verily believed that she was acting in just the way and 
 manner to bring about the desired effect. Flowers, 
 to be appreciated, must be seen. Gold is of no use 
 hid away in the earth. The diamond and the charcoal 
 are all the same when buried in darkness. J\Irs. Dela- 
 field's daughters were of suitable age to be estab- 
 lished in homes of their own. As a mother, she 
 wished them to form worthy alliances. She did not 
 stop to question if they were prepared to take upon 
 themselves the responsibility of wife and mother. 
 It was not the fashion to do this ; besides, they 
 would learn it as they went along. She did. 
 
 " I am glad that you are quite recovered," Mrs. 
 Delafield wrote to her husband. " I felt relieved 
 when I learned that Di was at home. She has a 
 natural tact about many things that I have all my 
 life found it impossible to attain. I am delighted to 
 hear that Ellen has grown so strong and healthy. 
 She writes me that she is as brown as a berry. I 
 trust, now that she is with you, her complexion is 
 duly cared for. Tell her to wear her bonnet in the 
 rooms, or, perhaps, she had better wear a mask at night. 
 1 think' Di might make one, such as Kate wore when 
 she returned from the country. Ellen was so clear, 
 I can 't bear to think that her cheeks are brown and 
 coarse. Di was never fair; it does not matter so 
 much with her. You will be delighted to know that 
 Kate and Agnes have improved. Kate is considered 
 the belle of the season, and Mr. Flashman is envied 
 by all the male circle. I used to wish the choice
 
 n OWN WARD AND UPWARD. 10/ 
 
 might fall on Mr. Lyndsey. He was here a few da>s, 
 and, just as we heard of your illness, he went to the 
 country. He is certainly a very superior young man, 
 and, although not as rich as Mr. Flashman, I would 
 greatly prefer him for a son-in-law. I feel quite sure 
 that Agnes's penchant for young Stanton is wearing 
 off I trust so; for rumor speaks not well of him. 
 Tiiey say that he has a wife. As for that matter, 
 biowever, I do not believe it. Still, I would rather 
 Agnes would have nothing to do with him. Jay has 
 been very attentive to me. His horses are the finest 
 here, and he drives well. I hope he is beginning to 
 turn a new leaf. I never knew how much trouble 
 one has with sons. Cyrus seems to have fallen 
 deeply in love with a lady, not pretty, and, I should 
 judge, not amiable ; but her father is said to be im- 
 mensely rich, and she drives and dresses superbly. 
 Kate does all she can to fan the flame. I hardly 
 know how matters stand. Pardon, my dear, this 
 little gossip ; it is of our children. We shall be at 
 home in two weeks. Tell Di to have the house 
 properly aired and cleansed. I am glad to know that 
 she is fresh and strong. We are thoroughly tired 
 out, and the effort of leave-taking and packing will 
 try us still more. With so much to do, it is possible 
 I shall not write again before we leave. As soon as 
 you receive this, please send a draft. My purse is 
 nearly empty, and I promised Jay a parting supper 
 to his friends." 
 
 Mr. Delafield read his letter, folded and placed it 
 in his desk. Resting his elbow on the table, his head
 
 1 08 DO WN WARD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 fell forward, and quick thoughts surged through his 
 mind. He had just sent all the money that he con- 
 sidered necessary. Now another demand, and that 
 for a supper, that woula bring little real enjoyment. 
 Should he comply with this request? or should he, 
 for the first time in his life, refuse the least desire 
 expressed by his wife ? He did not like to do this ; 
 and, still, where was it to end ? 
 
 How long he would have indulged this mood is 
 uncertain. It was Daisy's voice that roused him, 
 and then he felt a pair of soft arms clasp his neck, 
 and Ellen nestled her face to his. 
 
 ** Are you ill, papa ? Dr. Landseer said it would n't 
 do for you to get sick again. What did he mean by 
 that ? that you would n't get well if you did ? " 
 
 '* Dr. Landseer is very careful of papa." 
 
 " So are we all. We cannot live without you, 
 papa." 
 
 There was a pause, and Mr. Delafield found it diffi- 
 cult to keep back the tears. 
 
 " Di said you had a letter from mamma. When 
 are they coming home ? " 
 
 " In two weeks." 
 
 " Our good times \\\\\ all be gone then." 
 
 " Not when your mother comes, my child ? " 
 
 *• I shall be glad to see mamma ; but there will 
 be so many here, I shall never get to see you and 
 Di." 
 
 " Let us hope it will be different." 
 
 " If we could only live in the country, papa. I am 
 sure you would like it."
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. IO9 
 
 "A good while ago, when papa was a small boy, 
 he lived in the country. He has never been as happy 
 since as he was then." 
 
 " Perhaps we can go and live there again. I would 
 like to, papa ; and so would Di, and mamma, I hope. 
 Kate and Agnes would think it dull, Di says." 
 
 Through the folding-doors came the tinkle of the 
 tea-bell. Mr. Delafield felt it a relief. His heart 
 was too full to talk with his child — the pent-up feel- 
 ing of years seemed ready to burst forth. His old 
 home in the country was before him ; the purity and 
 the freshness of his boyhood in marked contrast to 
 the care and sorrow he had since known. With an 
 effort at self-control, only learned by contact with the 
 world, Mr. Delafield did his part to make the meal 
 cheerful and happy, bringing up little incidents in his 
 early life, and painting scenes that filled Ellen's blue 
 eyes with delight. Then excusing himself on the plea 
 of letters to write, he withdrew to his room, to puzzle 
 his brain till morning in forming and arranging 
 plans by which to free himself from embarrassment, 
 his business every day becoming more and more 
 alarming. 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 FAMILY JARS. 
 
 AS the winds went sighing through the tree-tops, 
 the city put on her gayest attire, sweeping from 
 country and shore the health-seeking and pleasure- 
 loving crowd. Mrs. Delafield and family had returned. 
 Jay and Cyrus were driving dashing turnouts up and 
 down Broadway instead of the sea-side. 
 
 '* What a fright Ellen has grown to be ! " was Kate's 
 exclamation, as she seated herself at the breakfast- 
 table, the first morning at home. " She looks like 
 a little Arab." 
 
 " I have never seen her looking better," said Mr. 
 Delafield, as he patted the rosy cheek. " Health is 
 the crowning beauty." 
 
 " That 's one of the drawbacks to a life in the 
 country, — one grows dark and coarse." 
 
 ** Forty times more beauty, as father says. Any- 
 thing but a doll-faced woman," exclaimed Cyrus. 
 
 " Of course ! of course ! " and Kate clapped her 
 hands, and laughed meaningly. " I forgot the en - 
 chantress lives in the country, drinks cream, and 
 bathes in dew." 
 
 ** The doubloons will reconcile a fellow to almost 
 anything," said Jay.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. Ill 
 
 A passionate glance shot out from Cyrus's eyes, 
 and his face was white with suppressed rage. 
 
 " At the way you are going on, an arrangement 
 of that kind would not be amiss. I advise you to 
 think of it, or you may draw up when you least ex- 
 pect it." 
 
 " I wish you would not banter each other in this 
 way," said Mrs. Delafield. '' It is a habit that I very 
 much disapprove." 
 
 Mr. Delafield was reading his paper, and appar- 
 ently oblivious. 
 
 "You should see how happy people live in the 
 country," said Ellen, naively. 
 
 " Hush talking of the country. We had enough 
 of it the week that Herbert Lyndsey was at the shore. 
 He could talk of little else, and at last made up his 
 mind to go there. I was glad. A thousand pities 
 that he did n't happen to fall into the place where 
 you and Di were." 
 
 Di was waiting on the table ; and, save that her 
 cheeks were crimson, there was no sign that she saw 
 or heard. 
 
 " I used to think there was taste and discernment 
 about him. I was mistaken," continued Kate. 
 
 *^ It will take something besides a fly-hook," said 
 Jay, with irony in his tone. 
 
 Kate sprang up, showing her small teeth, and rais- 
 ing her hand threateningly. 
 
 " I do wish Jay wouldn't tease Kate as he does;" 
 and Ellen flung herself into Di's arms. " Papa don't 
 like it. You should have seen his face behind the 
 paper; and mamma's eyes were full of tears."
 
 112 DO WN WA R D A ND UP WARD. 
 
 " It is a habit of his. He does not mean to annoy 
 her." 
 
 *' Can't you talk with him, Di ? Can't you tell him 
 how bad it makes papa feel ? " 
 
 " I hardly think it advisable for me to speak to 
 him about it. One thing we can do : when we are 
 with him, we can try to keep the conversation in 
 such a channel that teasing will be out of place. 
 More than this: we can ask that he be led to see how 
 much unhappiness it brings." 
 
 " I do wish we could see Mr. Hawley, and Seth, 
 and his mother, and Lydia. How much happier they 
 live than we do." 
 
 " We must not forget what Mr. Parton says, — 
 that everybody has something to try them." 
 
 " I would n't mind it, if papa was happy." 
 
 " Papa will be happier, if he sees us happy." 
 
 ** But tell me, Di, is my face so very brown ? Do 
 I look like an Arab ? " 
 
 ** You are certainly not as white and clear as be- 
 fore we went to Tipton. You look healthier and, 
 papa thinks, handsomer. But you must not forget, 
 Ellen, that it is the spirit looking out from the eyes, 
 speaking in the voice, and lighting up the entire face, 
 that gives beauty. This is a cultivated gift as well 
 as a natural endowment." 
 
 " Kate is beautiful. I am not like her, Di." 
 
 " Kate has a lovely face." 
 
 " I would like to be beautiful." 
 
 " In order to be loved ? " 
 
 " Yes, Di."
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. II3 
 
 *' To be amiable wins a more lasting love. The 
 richest perfume is given to the plainest flowers." 
 
 " Is beauty a gift for which we are responsible ? " 
 
 " The more that is given, the more will be re- 
 quired." 
 
 " Are we responsible for our faces ? " 
 
 " The spirit we cherish gives expression to the 
 face. For this we are responsible." 
 
 " Di, where is my velvet mantle?" and Agnes 
 stood in the door. " I can 't find it anywhere; and 
 mother and Kate are in the carriage." 
 
 " I have not seen it. You wore a shawl yester- 
 day." 
 
 " For that very reason I want a change to-day." 
 
 " Let us look for it," and Daisy opened the drawers. 
 "Are you sure it was unpacked? " 
 
 " Of course it was. That 's always the way with 
 my things. I never can find them. And my gloves 
 and veil, Di. I wish you would have a little consid- 
 eration. Going out as much as I do, I cannot be ex- 
 pected to see that everything is in its place." 
 
 " I have the mantle," and Daisy held it up. 
 
 " No ; I want the one lined with white." 
 
 " Won't this answer ? " 
 
 " That 's a silly question. Yellow satin against 
 my dress! I always knew you had no taste." 
 
 " Your mother is impatient," and Rachel ran up 
 the stairs. 
 
 " Not till I find my mantle." 
 
 " Which ? " 
 
 " The black velvet lined with white satin." 
 10* H
 
 114 DO IVN WA RD A ND UP WA R D 
 
 " I know where it is," and Rachel brought it from 
 Agnes's room. 
 
 " It would save me a good deal of trouble, if you 
 would put things where I can find them." 
 
 Drawing on her gloves, Agnes walked leisurely 
 dqwn stairs. 
 
 As the winter approached, there was still more 
 commotion in Mr. Delafield's family. The wedding 
 was to take place early in the season ; and a countless 
 round of calls and congratulations kept all in excite- 
 ment. While Kate was basking in bridal favor, 
 dreaming of the magnificent trousseau and the covbeille 
 direct from Paris, Agnes was keeping up a clandes- 
 tine correspondence with Horace Stanton, 
 
 At first, this went on smoothly. Each morning a 
 letter was sure to be found in the corner of the shut- 
 ters, and at night another was as carefully deposited 
 in the rose-bush nearest to the gate; but as the winter 
 set in, and the protecting leaves were carried by the 
 winds to carpet. the street, this was a dangerous ex- 
 periment. At length Barbara was bribed, and the 
 tiny missives came and went regularly. Barbara had 
 a conscience, however, — something not found in the 
 rose-bush and shutters ; and one night she awoke 
 from a frightful dream, and began to think that she 
 was doing wrong. There was no priest to confess 
 to, and, more accustomed to act than to reason, slie 
 did not see why one would not do as well as another. 
 It is said that eveiy one has his ideal ; be this as it 
 may, Barbara had hers, and to Di she went to con- 
 fess, with all the sanctity she would have manifested 
 had his Holiness been there himself.
 
 BOW A'' WARD AND UPWARD. II5 
 
 " How long have you been the bearer of letters ? " 
 asked Daisy, as Barbara faltered out her story. 
 
 ** Ever since the masquerade, you know. I went 
 with Rachel to help 'em dress." 
 
 ** Who gave you the first ? " 
 
 " The crentleman himself I was brinsfing^ Miss 
 Agnes a glass of water, when he slipped it into my 
 hand, and told me that he would give me something 
 nice if I would take one every day." 
 
 ''And you told him you would do it? " 
 
 " I thought I was doing a favor ; and every night I 
 went round the corner, and sat on the church steps 
 till the letter came." 
 
 " You grew tired of this ? " 
 
 " No. I dreamed one night that, as I was sitting 
 on the steps, a great black figure with wings came 
 out of the church, and was about to carry me away, 
 when I shrieked, and ran toward Mr. Delafield, who 
 was coming up the street. In my fright I gave him 
 the letter; and when he read it, the tears rolled down 
 his face, and he was as white as he could be. I felt 
 so sorry that I cried too, and when I woke up, I said 
 I would n't take any more letters, for fear there was 
 something in them that would make Mr. Delafield 
 feel bad. I can't forget how good he was to ni}^ poor 
 mother, and when she died he said that I should 
 come to his house. I 'm not going to do anything 
 that will make him feel bad." 
 
 " This is right, Barbara. I am glad to see that you 
 are grateful to Mr. Delafield."
 
 Il6 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " What am I to say when they ask me ? " asked 
 Barbara. 
 
 " Tell them that you will not be a carrier; that you 
 are afraid there is something wrong that requires so 
 much secrecy," 
 
 Barbara was satisfied. Like others in the house- 
 hold, she had great faith in Di. With her conscience 
 free, she went singing about her work, her heart 
 lighter than it had been for many a day. 
 
 Not so Daisy : she did not relish the part she had 
 taken. There was no alternative. To allow Agnes 
 to disobey her father w^ould only be to render herself 
 an accomplice. To betray her to her father she 
 could not; what then? Mr. Delafield had said that 
 he did not believe Mr. Stanton to be what he pro- 
 fessed to be. Months ago he banished him from his 
 house, and commanded Agnes not to speak with 
 him again. Of late his name was seldom mentioned, 
 and when it was, Agnes had seemed indifferent. Di 
 herself had supposed it forgotten ; and the truth of 
 the affair alarmed her only the more she thought of 
 it. A«;ain and aa;ain did she ask herself what could 
 be done. It was impossible to make a confidant of 
 Jay or Cyrus. To tell Mrs. Delafield would be 
 equally impracticable. In this dilemma a quick 
 thought shot through her brain : she remembered to 
 have heard Mrs. Clayton allude to the subject, and 
 in such a manner as to leave no doubt in her own 
 mind that there had been something of an acquaint- 
 ance between them. She would go at once, and ask 
 what ground there was for prejudice?
 
 D OWJ\/ WARD AND UPWARD. 11/ 
 
 With Daisy, to decide to do anything was to do 
 it. That very evening she made her way to Mrs. 
 Clayton's. Grant could walk now, and his studies 
 were progressing rapidly. Edna was likewise at 
 school, and the heart of the mother was full of 
 hope. 
 
 " By what happy circumstance am I favored with a 
 visit at night ? " asked Mrs. Clayton, as she wel- 
 comed her guest. 
 
 " Whether happy or unhappy, the end will decide ; " 
 and Daisy drew her chair close to the good woman, 
 and told her story without a pause. 
 
 "The miserable man!" exclaimed Mrs. Clayton* 
 while an expression of scorn passed over her usually 
 calm face. " This is not the only city in which he 
 has figured; neither is Agnes the only person whom 
 he has won to believe him." 
 
 " I may trust you ? " asked Daisy, as she rose to 
 leave. 
 
 *' Have no fears, child. I am too much indebted 
 to Mr. Delafield to hesitate under such circum- 
 stances."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 COMING EVENTS. 
 
 ALONE in his counting-room, Mr. Delafield exam- 
 ined the bills before him. As a man in a small 
 boat nearing the rapids, and without the power to 
 save himself, casts his eyes shoreward, only to feel his 
 misery more keenly, so the merchant thought of the 
 time when his business was small and his gains less, 
 of the content and happiness of his home, his chil- 
 dren giving him their love and confidence. Gener- 
 ous by nature, and delighted to see them happy, he 
 had fostered their love for display; and, now that 
 they were drawing so heavily upon him, he saw 
 plainly the danger, the terrible gulf into which he 
 must irrevocably plunge. Cold drops of perspira- 
 tion stood upon his forehead, and his frame shook 
 as with an ague fit. Since that fearful illness, he had 
 not fully regained his strength, and the doctor had 
 warned him repeatedly not to give way to excite- 
 ment. 
 
 There had been quiet days of convalescence, when, 
 shutting his eyes to business, he had allowed him- 
 self to be diverted with Daisy's recital of country life ; 
 listening to Ellen as she rehearsed little incidents 
 of the farm, the visit to the mill and the blacksmith's 
 shop, standing by the side of the dun cows while 
 
 ii8
 
 DO IVNWARD AND UPWARD. 1 19 
 
 Seth drew from well-filled udders the white foaming 
 milk. Gone, like everything else; and, throwing 
 himself back in his chair, he shut his eyes to the 
 papers, and tried to close his heart to care. 
 
 Ellen had pointed him to a better way. He was 
 anxious to walk in it; but how? As a vine blown 
 and tossed by the wind flings out its tendrils, seeking 
 support and finding iione, so the merchant revolved 
 in his own mind various ways and means whereby 
 he might free himself from entanglement. Then he 
 would have time to think of and to decide upon a 
 question that involved so much. 
 
 "This is something that I do not quite understand," 
 and Paul Browning, Mr. Delafield's confidential 
 clerk, stood before him. 
 
 "What is the question?" said the merchant, with 
 an effort to rally his scattered thoughts. 
 
 "A draft with your name, but not in your hand." 
 
 "For how much? " 
 
 " The paper will explain." 
 
 " Is it possible ?" 
 
 Paul Browning shut the door. For months had 
 he seen the father's agony. He could not look upon 
 him now. Poor, the son of a widow, and obliged to 
 labor, there was little in common between him and 
 the sons of the rich merchant. Inexperienced and 
 friendless when he came to the city, he looked up to 
 them and envied them. Not for wealth merely, but 
 for the opportunities they enjoyed for mental improve- 
 ment. By paying due attention to business, he had 
 gained the confidence of his employers, and his sal- 
 ary was sufficient to make his mother comfortable.
 
 120 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 Months since, he learned that Jay and Cyrus Dela- 
 field were not to be envied. Pity was in his heart ; 
 but more for the good-natured, yielding father, whose 
 generous heart had prompted him to gratify every 
 desire. He had made the mistake that training was 
 unnecessary, and now he was to reap of the seed he 
 planted a bitter harvest. The young and tender sap- 
 ling is bent easily ; and the frfrit-tree is dwarfed or 
 erect as the hand of the gardener trains it. Child- 
 hood is the time to mould and form character. 
 Habits strengthen, and principles take root that will 
 bear fruit in age, — some to honor, and some to dis- 
 honor. 
 
 Lights were glancing along the pavement when 
 Mr. Delafield reached home. Ellen met him at the 
 door. Music sounded down the hall, and fresh young 
 voices told of happy hearts. The trousseau had 
 just arrived, — splendid velvets, and silks, and light 
 gossamer fabrics, — and a buzz of admiration passed 
 from lip to lip. 
 
 Sick at heart, Mr. Delafield went through with the 
 accustomed forms, his lips wreathed with smiles, as 
 he looked upon the beaming face of his child. How 
 could he blight her happiness, or lay a feather's 
 weight on her young heart? All was joyous. Only 
 on Daisy's face a shadow rested; and he thought of 
 the unselfish care she had given him in his illness. 
 " When this wedding is over," he murmured to him- 
 self Again the clouds loomed up before him. He 
 dared not think of it. 
 
 '* Has my little girl had a happy day?" and Ellen 
 sat curled up on her father's knee.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 121 
 
 "Very happy, papa. I wish so much that you 
 could have been here. Mr. Lyndsey called here 
 this morning. You remember what Kate said about 
 his going to the country? It seems that he went to 
 Tipton. Mrs. White is his aunt, and Seth and 
 Lydia are his own cousins. He says Mrs. White 
 was lonely enough after we left. I do hope, papa, 
 some way will open that we can all go to Tipton 
 next summer." 
 
 " Would you like to spend the winters there ? " 
 
 " Seth said the winter was the best time, with 
 sleigh -rides, and singing- schools, and visits; with 
 mountains of snow and ice, throwing back the light 
 like huge piles of crystal. Di would like it." 
 
 " Would like what ? " and Daisy drew near. 
 
 "To live in the country." 
 
 " We saw the country in a favorable light. Mrs. 
 White knows so well how to make people happy," 
 replied Di 
 
 " It depends a good deal upon the acquaintance 
 we first make," said Mr. Delafield. " I presume Dr. 
 Landseer's influence had much to do with your hap- 
 piness in Tipton." 
 
 " Mr. Lyndsey says that Seth bids fair to make a 
 man of more than ordinary ability. He is studying 
 hard, and at work likewise. Every moment is em- 
 ployed," continued Di. 
 
 ** Mr. Lyndsey used to work to pay his board when 
 in college, and now. Dr. Landseer says, he is one of 
 the first lawyers in the city," Ellen said to her father- 
 
 " Dr. Landseer ! No wonder you have had a
 
 122 DO WNWARD A ND UP WARD. 
 
 happy day, two such calls in one morning ! " and 
 Mr. Delafield tried to be cheerful and happy. 
 
 Daisy talked freely of her summer friends ; but 
 she did not say that Mr. Lyndsey had brought a 
 letter from Mr. Hawley, asking, as an especial favor, 
 that she would send him the small suit of clothes 
 she held in her possession ; he would not keep them 
 long. He had written, " I desire to know what 
 Mabel will think of them. I would not ask it, for I 
 know how highly you prize them ; but she asks for 
 you ; and if I tell her they are yours, it may satisfy 
 her." 
 
 Going to her room, Daisy unfolded the cherished 
 dress, the sleeves still looped with coral. " I will 
 send it just as it is," she said, and, holding it up, she 
 could not keep back the tears. No longer the little 
 dress : she sees a child tottering over the floor to 
 meet a mother's outstretched hand. She hears the 
 tender, loving tone, and feels the pressure of a 
 mother's kiss. Alas ! it is all a delusion. Memory 
 has nothing of this to bring her, and fancy cannot 
 long be cheated. Alone in a great city, with none to 
 love or to care for her, Mr. Delafield saw her, and 
 his heart was touched. Generous and kind, he took 
 her to his home ; and if trials had been hers, they 
 had not been of a nature that he could remove. 
 
 Floating up and along the halls were light laughter 
 and happy voices. Daisy wrapped up the small parcel, 
 and, writing a note, once more stood by the side of 
 Mr. Delafield and Ellen. With an effort, the merchant 
 tried to rouse himself Why anticipate ? Why thus
 
 n OWN WARD AND UPWARD. 1 23 
 
 torture himself? He had done his best, and if he 
 failed, if the leap must be made, why not fold his 
 arms, and go down without a word ? It was too 
 much for the strong nerves ; and when Jay and 
 Cyrus entered, their manner gay and jubilant, he 
 trembled. It would not do to delay — he must speak 
 with Jay that very night. Nerving himself, he put 
 Ellen from him. 
 
 " My little girl must find it stupid here, when 
 everybody is happy in the parlor." 
 " I will go down with you, papa." 
 ** Papa is not well to-night ; and, besides — " 
 " Papa ! O papa ! what is it ? " as Ellen saw her 
 father turn pale, and thrust his handkerchief to his 
 mouth. 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! Ellen," as Daisy steadied Mr. 
 Delafield to the sofa : he was pale and helpless, his 
 handkerchief saturated with blood. " A little salt 
 and water," Daisy whispered to Ellen, and with 
 noiseless speed she flew to Dr. Landseer.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CHARACTERS. " 
 
 HERBERT LYNDSEYand Seth White were not 
 only cousins, but cousins between whom there 
 was an uncommon affinity. Sought after and admired 
 as was the young lawyer, he did not look down upon 
 his poor relation. He honored his aunt as a woman 
 of sterling principle and sound sense. The son of 
 such a mother was not one of whom he could, under 
 any circumstances, be ashamed. 
 
 Seth White had been the guest of his cousin for 
 several days, and twice had he called on the Dela- 
 fields. Seth had never been in the city before, and 
 his quick eye was ready to profit by all that he saw 
 and heard. In visiting places of interest, he was not 
 backward. Study had made him familiar with the 
 history of each ; but in the parlor he was conscious 
 of a want of ease and ready tact that only comes 
 by contact with the living, moving throng. With 
 Daisy and Ellen there was no reserve, his words 
 running out in the same lively, piquant manner that 
 had won them in Tipton ; but with others he was 
 shy and awkward. 
 
 There lacked now but few days till the wedding. 
 
 "How long does your friend remain?" Kate asked 
 of Daisy, as her visitor left. 
 
 124
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. I25 
 
 " I have not asked him," was the quiet reply. 
 
 " I do not see any particular object in his calling 
 so frequently. If he should stay a month, I will not 
 invite him to the wedding," said Kate, tartly. 
 
 " You need not trouble yourself about that, sister; 
 he goes home in the morning," and Ellen's cheeks 
 flushed. 
 
 "Dear me! Are you so much interested? I 
 thought he was Di's admirer," continued Kate. 
 
 " I do not know that he is an admirer of either 
 of us," replied Daisy, with a little warmth. "I only 
 know that he was very kind to us during the sum- 
 mer; and it would be shameful, if we did not return 
 it when he comes to the city." 
 
 *' Of course; it is very natural that he should come 
 to the city. I congratulate you. No wonder you 
 were so much pleased with the country," and Kate 
 laughed ironically. 
 
 " Seth White came to the city on business. He 
 could not hasten it, much as he desired to. In the 
 meantime he has used his eyes and his ears, and 
 he will go back with more advanced ideas. Your 
 father says he is a young man capable of improve- 
 ment. If so, the time may come when you will not 
 look down upon him," returned Daisy, proudly. 
 
 " Bravo ! " and Kate clapped her small hands. 
 "The time may come. Who knows? perhaps I will 
 have the pleasure of taking a glass of cream from 
 your own dairy in Tipton," and Kate bowed herself 
 out of the room. 
 
 Ellen had gone with the first rejoinder. She was
 
 126 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 not proof against Kate's bantering. In the silence 
 of her room, she gave vent to her grief and her 
 vexation. " I wonder Kate does delight to tease us 
 so about the country. Seth White is my friend ; and 
 I will ask papa if he has not just as good a right to 
 come here as anybody else has." 
 
 Somebody has said that feelings are only safety- 
 valves. It certainly is a great relief to throw off the 
 steam. Ellen found it so, and, running down to 
 Daisy, she proposed a walk. 
 
 " Where shall we go ? " asked Daisy. 
 
 " I can't think of anybody that I would rather see 
 than Mrs. Orcutt." 
 
 "That is too far for a morning call," replied Daisy, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " I know ; but I just feel like hearing her talk," 
 continued Ellen. 
 
 " Mrs. Harris is something like her in this respect. 
 It is a good while since we were there." 
 
 " Let us go, Di. Mamma will be willing," said 
 Ellen, pleadingly. 
 
 Mrs. Harris was the widow of a seafaring man ; 
 a quiet, dignified old lady, whose love for Daisy and 
 Ellen was a blessing for which they were both grate- 
 ful. With wealth sufficient to gratify every desire, 
 she lived to do good, and in the fulfilment of her 
 benevolent designs she realized the highest happi- 
 ness that a mortal can know. 
 
 The cool, crisp air and the bright sunshine dissi- 
 pated all unpleasant thoughts, and when Ellen 
 reached the house of Mrs. Harris, she was blithe 
 and gay as usual.
 
 DOWNWAI^D AND UPWARD. I27 
 
 " It is good 3f you to c^me and see me this 
 morning," said Mrs. Harris, tottering across the 
 room. " Bright as it is outside, this is one of my 
 dark days." 
 
 *' Why, Mrs. Harris, I had no idea you ever had 
 dark days," exclaimed Ellen. 
 
 " So long as we are in this world, child, we are 
 subject to dark days. Were it not so, we might 
 want to live here always. This world is not home ; 
 it is only a workhouse, and the body droops at 
 times ; then we have to stop and patch up, and the 
 work is delayed." 
 
 ** I see, Mrs. Harris, that you have been ill," said 
 Daisy, in a voice full of sympathy. 
 
 '' And my work has had to stop. I was wrong, 
 however, in calling the day dark; it is our consolation 
 that, in whatever state we may be, we can, through 
 grace, work for God. Obedience is the line of duty." 
 
 " If we could be assured that everything comes 
 from God," said Ellen. 
 
 " Do you doubt this, my child ? " asked the good 
 woman. 
 
 " The little things that annoy us and try one's 
 temper," Ellen continued. 
 
 **The little things are like the very small files that 
 the artist uses to perfect his work. God moulds 
 and fashions, chips and polishes, using these very 
 little things to do it with," returned Mrs. Harris. 
 
 " I like to think he cares for little things," said 
 Daisy. " And still, like Ellen, there are times when 
 I feel not perfectly assured."
 
 I2« DOIVNWARI) AND UPWARD. 
 
 *' These are the dark days," replied Mrs. Harris, 
 with a smile. *' The precious grain, which the hus- 
 bandman cultivates with hope, grows in the night as 
 readily as in the day; for its maturing, the dark hours 
 are as necessary as the bright ones. Thus God gives 
 us dark hours in the spiritual world only to mature 
 a richer, nobler harvest for eternity." 
 
 *' I see now why you called them dark days," cried 
 Ellen, joyfully. " It seemed strange to think of dark 
 days with you, Mrs. Harris." 
 
 " And, still, I have known many of them." 
 
 " If dark days bring us the revivifying influences 
 of the night to the natural world, they are not lost to 
 us," and a new light gleamed in Daisy's eyes. 
 
 "That is it; as day and night are essential to growth 
 in the natural world, so in the Christian's growth he 
 has his hours of light and shade. It is in this way 
 that the choicest fruit has been matured. Health 
 and prosperity have their seductive influence, and 
 often seriously interfere with one's spiritual progress. 
 In this case, we need the discipline of dark hours to 
 counteract the world and ripen fruit for heaven," said 
 Mrs. Harris, in a calm, firm tone. 
 
 " Is it an easy lesson for us to learn that every- 
 thing that happens, or can happen, is for the best?" 
 asked Daisy. 
 
 " We learn by faith that the way of the Lord with 
 us is the best way. Faith is not a spontaneous growth ; 
 we must cultivate it," replied Mrs. Harris. 
 
 "Should dark days come, I shall better under- 
 stand their design," said Ellen, as Daisy rose to leave.
 
 D O WN WA RD A ND UP IV A R D. 1 29 
 
 " I do not doubt that through eternity it will be 
 one source of happiness to review the way in which 
 the Lord has led us, — a way which now we do not 
 understand, but there will be luminous. Then we 
 shall see how the dark hours produced bright results 
 not only in ourselves, but in others around us," said 
 Mrs. Harris, as she saw her guests to the door. 
 - " Papa has dark hours. I will tell him what Mrs. 
 Harris said," Ellen remarked, on her way home. 
 
 Daisy did not reply; she was thinking of the dark 
 hours she had known. She knew that night followed 
 day in the natural world, and that to the plants the 
 shadowing cloud was as needful as the warmth and 
 light of the sun. She had not thought it the same 
 in the spiritual world. Henceforth the dark days 
 would have a new interest for her. 
 
 As the wedding-day drew near, Mrs. Clayton was 
 kept apprised of all that was taking place at Mr. 
 Delafield's ; and one bright, sunny morning the little 
 woman found it necessary to visit the office of Dr. 
 Landseer: for two hours there was a deep and ear- 
 nest conversation, and the next day Mrs. Clayton and 
 Grant left for Baltimore. When they returned there 
 was a stranger with them, — a young, fair woman, 
 dressed in deep mourning, and apparently in feeble 
 health. Dr. Landseer called daily. In mild weather 
 the doctor not unfrequently allowed Grant to drive 
 his patient through the town in his own comfortable 
 carriage, and on several occasions she frequented the 
 places of amusement. In the delicate state of her 
 health she was obliged to protect herself with a 
 
 I
 
 130 DO IVN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 heavy veil. The air was too bracing for weak lungs, 
 the doctor said. 
 
 Bridal festivities left no time for sorrow. In look- 
 ing upon Kate's happy face, Mrs. Delafield grew 
 young again, and Mr. Delafield's failing health was 
 a cover for any uneasiness that he might feel. Jay 
 and Cyrus were more frequently at home, and Agnes 
 from being all tears was now all smiles and blushes. 
 To tell the truth, there was a corner of her heart 
 into which the confidence of her parents did not 
 enter. Forbidden to meet one to whom she had 
 pledged herself unwisely, she determined to fulfil her 
 promise let it cost what it would. Thanks to little 
 Barbara, her plans were not too deep to be under- 
 stood. There were those to whom her jubilant man- 
 ner was no cloak.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FOILED. 
 
 ALL day the snow had been coming down, and 
 the brown earth was veiled in soft, fleecy white, 
 — a fitting drapery for a bridal. All day there had 
 been stir and v^ommotion in Mr. Delafield's house, 
 and now the bridal train swept down the broad stair- 
 case. A temporary altar had been erected in the 
 grand saloon, and the clergyman stood in his robes 
 A moment they kneeled before the altar, and then 
 arose to repeat the vows that were to unite them 
 in the sacred union of husband and wife. 
 
 The words were spoken and the prayer said, con- 
 gratulations followed, and the occasion was one of 
 joy. A proud and happy mother, Mrs. Delafield 
 performed her part with queenly dignity ; while the 
 pale face of her husband was tinged with a flush that 
 spoke of pride to some, of pain to others. Each 
 made a mistake. It was the feeling of despair creep- 
 ing up to lips and brow, and still not master. With 
 a deeply sensitive nature, Mr. Delafield could not 
 yield easily. Strong as the tide, he would struggle 
 against it. As a bird caught in the snare of the fowl- 
 er flutters and trembles, its feathers torn against the 
 cruel bars, and drops of blood trickling from its
 
 132 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 breast, so Mr. Delafield struf^f^led against the bars 
 that he could not wrench asunder. In that bright' 
 throng there was another heart still more painfully 
 excited; now resolved to throw it all aside and let 
 the occasion pass w^ithout a word of excuse or pallia- 
 tion, the next urged on to make good her promise 
 by stealing, like a felon, from a father's house and a 
 father's protecting care. 
 
 " It is only natural," Mrs. Delafield remarked, as 
 she looked at Agnes's flushed cheeks, and noted the 
 wild, troubled light in her eyes. " Kate and Agnes 
 have been inseparable. To see Kate leave is almost 
 too much for the dear child. We must do all we can 
 to comfort her." 
 
 Well for the mother that she did not see the fear- 
 ful struggle ; did not know the thoughts that came 
 and went like the waves of a troubled sea. Weeks 
 ago Agnes had decided the question ; she had re- 
 solved to obey the dictates of her own heart. 
 Others had done so, and been happy. Doubtless 
 her parents would feel badly. A few years abroad 
 and then to return. Of course they would forgive 
 her, and the love of her husband would make ample 
 amends for the sacrifice. Wild and gay, then sad 
 and pensive, Agnes did not imagine there was one 
 that held the key. 
 
 In and out Daisy floated ; her words gentle and 
 kind, and her hands helpful. Ellen was sweet and 
 cheerful, and Dr. Landseer everywhere. Little 
 Barbara was on the alert ; and as Grant Clayton stood 
 at the side door with a veiled lady on his arm, ^he
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. I33 
 
 whispered to Daisy. Grant went down the walk, 
 and the lady, clinging to Daisy's arm, wound up the 
 back staircase. 
 
 " Martin," and Daisy tapped lightly at the house- 
 keeper's door, " I have brought a lady to rest her- 
 self in your room for a little. She is an invalid ; 
 please give her some refreshment." 
 
 " I will be back in time," said Daisy, bending her 
 lips to the lady's ear, and pressing the thin hand 
 again. In a moment Daisy was standing in the 
 drawing-room, her absence unnoticed by any of the 
 guests. 
 
 "One of your smiles, if you please," and Dr. 
 Landseer stood by the side of Agnes. 
 
 *' Dr. Landseer seems to understand the art of 
 winning them," returned Agnes, with an attempt at 
 playfulness. 
 
 ** Tendered me as charity, perhaps," said the doctor. 
 
 "Judging others by yourself?" 
 
 " Not at all, Miss Agnes. To a man flung around 
 as I am, the smile of a bright healthy face is like 
 the rich wine of life. Under its influence I grow 
 young again ; forgetful that there is sickness and 
 sorrow in the world for me to heal or alleviate." 
 
 " With the power to do this, you are a happy man, 
 Dr. Landseer," said Agnes, seriously. 
 
 " The happiness of alleviating is balanced by the 
 long train of ills with which I must first become 
 conversant," continued Dr. Landseer. 
 
 "It is a pity that a world so beautiful should be 
 the ^ode of so much sorrow."
 
 134 DO WAYWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " If the people in it were only as good as they are 
 beau':'ful, there would be far less of suffering, Miss 
 Agnes." 
 
 "There are circumstances in which it is difficult 
 to be good, I imagine," said Agnes, musingly. 
 
 *' There is no circumstance under which we may 
 not do right," returned the doctor. 
 
 " To do right ! " exclaimed Agnes. And the color 
 left lips and brow. 
 
 " The heat of the room is oppressive. Let me 
 lead you to a seat," and the doctor gave his arm. 
 
 " I do not often tempt one, but, on this occasion, 
 let me bring you a glass of wine," said the doctor^ 
 as he seated Agnes near the window. 
 
 " Thank you : this has been an exciting evening," 
 and Agnes tried to rally. 
 
 Daisy flashed through the room, laughing and 
 shaking her finger at the doctor. 
 
 " A quiet little puss ; and still she seems to be full 
 of wit and humor," the doctor said to Agnes. 
 
 ** Di is one of the good ones ; it comes natural for 
 her to do right," was Agnes's reply. 
 
 Dr. Landseer had not expected such commenda- 
 tion. Was it battling with herself that she was thus 
 led to do Daisy justice ? 
 
 " To do right is not a natural inheritance. It is 
 only won by repeated striving," returned Dr. Land- 
 seer. 
 
 " Unreasonable ; to appropriate a young lady to 
 yourself, while I have been left to wander up-stair? 
 and down-stairs," said Mr. Lyndsey, with a low bow.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. I35 
 
 " I see the throng is passing into the refreshment- 
 room. As the doctor is so thoughtless, allow me, 
 Miss Agnes." 
 
 " If you please. I was about to withdraw to my 
 room for a few moments," and a sickly smile hovered 
 around the pale lips. 
 
 A telegraphic look shot out of Dr. Landseer's 
 eyes. 
 
 "I have counted upon this privilege;" and the 
 young lawyer was not to be put aside. 
 
 " If Dr. Landseer will excuse me ? " and Agnes 
 took the proffered arm. 
 
 " Velvets, and diamonds, and feathers, and laces. 
 What a dazzling array!" and the lawyer ran out the 
 length of small talk at his command. 
 
 Dr. Landseer slipped into the dressing-room, put 
 on his overcoat, and went out. 
 
 " In Martin's room," was said in a low voice, as he 
 passed Daisy in the hall! 
 
 " You find it a trial to part with your sister," said 
 Mr. Lyndsey, as he helped Agnes to an ice. 
 
 " I had no idea it would tax me so heavily," and 
 Agnes's eyes were full of tears. 
 
 Softening his tone, Mr. Lyndsey endeavored to 
 win her thoughts away from- herself A few moments, 
 and she had recovered sufficiently to converse with 
 ease, returning compliments and speaking gayly to 
 her friends. This was what he desired, and following 
 it up, Mr. Lyndsey so arranged it as to be among the 
 kist to leave the supper-room. 
 
 The bride was not to take a formal leave of her
 
 136 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 friends until the next day. A carriage was in wait- 
 ing to convey her to her hotel. 
 
 " I must speak a word to my sister," Agnes said, 
 as they walked through the hall. ** And I am so 
 weary, you will excuse me if I do not return." 
 
 At the dressing-room door Mr. Lyndsey met Bar- 
 bara. " It is all arranged," he whispered, in passing ; 
 and there was a look of satisfaction on her face as 
 the little waiting-girl carried the words to Daisy's 
 ear. 
 
 " Di, a moment, if you please," and there was ten- 
 derness in Agnes's voice. 
 
 " I feel sadly to see Kate go. And I am so tired ; 
 suppose I do not come down again." 
 
 " You need rest. I will tell your mother that you 
 are tired, ill," returned Di. 
 
 "A little rest is all I need," and Agnes tried to 
 stop her tears. 
 
 " Can I bring you anything for your comfort ? " 
 asked Di. 
 
 " Only say that I would not be disturbed; my head 
 aches wildly," answered Agnes. 
 "Nothing more?" 
 
 " Nothing more " was echoed, and so low that it 
 was hardly audible. 
 
 The door was locked ; but on the outside, Daisy 
 had also secured a small door leading to the rear of 
 the building. This done, Agnes's last request was 
 kept to the letter ; she was not disturbed. 
 
 The bridal throng had passed; one carriage alone 
 remained. A trunk was strapped to the rack ; and a
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 1 37 
 
 man stood by the step, muffled and cloaked as for a 
 journey. Not long he waited. Down the same 
 stairs and by the door she entered, the veiled 
 stranger tottered to the carriage. Lifting her in, the 
 man entered. 
 
 "All right ? " exclaimed the traveller. 
 
 " All right," was the answer, and Dr. Landseer 
 mounted to the box. " All right," he muttered to 
 himself " If I choose to drive Horace Stanton and 
 his wife to the steamer, whose business is it ? Thanks 
 to little Barbara, it's not Agnes Delafield." 
 
 .«•
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SEARCHING OUT. 
 
 BEYOND Mn Delafield's most sanguine hope the 
 winter was passing; perhaps he would yet 
 weather the storm. As a strong swimmer uncon- 
 sciously puts out all his force swinging out of the 
 current, and hoping still to reach land, so with the 
 merchant: could he hold out a little longer, all would 
 be well. 
 
 Mr. Flashman was to make his home in Montreal, 
 and thither he had borne his bride. Agnes was con- 
 fined bv illness to her room for a month, during 
 which time she had full opportunity to learn from Dr. 
 Landseer the particulars of his ride to the steamer ; 
 also of the terrible gulf into which she was about to 
 plunge. Shocked and truly humbled, the poor girl 
 wept as the doctor recounted the sacrifice, and the 
 suffering Daisy had endured, and gradually her better 
 nature blossomed out into a gentler manner. None 
 knew her secret, save the few with whom it would 
 be safe, and when strength returned she accepted an 
 invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Flashman to travel with 
 them during the summer. Released from chaperoning 
 her handsome daughters, Mrs. Delafield was more 
 at home ; Ellen received more of her attention, and 
 Daisy found a warmer place in her heart. 
 
 I -.8
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. I39 
 
 " It will not do for us to stay at home altogether," 
 said Mrs. Delafield; and by degrees Daisy and Ellen 
 grew to wear the easy grace of those accustomed to 
 social life. The rich gift of music was cultivated 
 more to give pleasure than to create display. Mr. 
 Delafield delighted in home songs, and in his youth 
 was no mean performer on the flute. Daisy endeav- 
 ored to win Jay to attempt it. " No time," he said, 
 and Cyrus had less. Thus was she doomed to see 
 them go out night after night, notwithstanding the 
 combined effort to make home as attractive as possi- 
 ble. 
 
 " Mrs. Harris says we must be patient, and keep 
 trying," said Ellen, as she threw herself into Daisy's 
 arms, and sobbed out her grief. 
 
 *' It makes papa feel so badly," she continued. 
 
 " The time may come when Jay will see differently. 
 In the meantime we must do what we can to help 
 him," answered Di, and the two planned and sug- 
 gested amusements and diversions to make their own 
 house as attractive as could be found elsewhere. Mr. 
 Lyndsey called occasionally, but his conversation 
 was mostly with Mr. Delafield : sometimes with a 
 book for Ellen, or a song for Daisy, — this was all. 
 
 Since Seth White's visit, and Mr. Hawley had the 
 little dress in his keeping, there had been a regular 
 correspondence ; letters directed sometimes to Daisy, 
 more frequently to Mr. Parton, keeping up a connec- 
 tion between the two families, and comforting Daisy 
 by holding in check whatever restlessness and 
 anxiety there might otherwise have been. Human
 
 140 DOIVNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 nature is everywhere the same, and human hearts are 
 more or less dependent upon love and sympathy. 
 A word has power to flood the soul with rapture, 
 brightening life's way by its faithful promise ; or, 
 sweeping across the spirit like a raging fire, blighting 
 and rendering all a waste. 
 
 Mr. Hawley's words were not of this kind. 
 Preaching, with him, was not a profession ; it was his 
 life, the very air he breathed. A plain, frank soul, 
 his manhood gloried in doing good. Mr. Parton 
 was of the same spirit, and by degrees Mr. Delafield 
 learned to look upon him as a friend, in whose con- 
 versation there was strength and hope. Going back 
 to the days of convalescence, he picked up the thread 
 broken as the tide rolled in from the sea, and, string- 
 ing it anew with pearls of thought, studied it with 
 more care than he did at first. 
 
 " If I could be sure that in searching after truth, I 
 apprehend it aright," said Mr. Delafield to the pastor. 
 ** Those who love most, worship most worthily." 
 
 " For His sake to love and worship, or for our 
 own ? " asked Mr. Parton. 
 
 " There is more or less of selfishness in love. 
 Whoever loves, derives pleasure from the object of 
 his love; and though he rob himself of all to lay 
 upon the altar, he still realizes happiness that holds 
 for him more of heaven than of earth," was Mr. 
 Delafield's reply. 
 
 " Such love lifts upward, and the selfishness of 
 which you speak, etherealized to a thin white mist,
 
 D O WNWA RD A ND UP VVA K D. I4I 
 
 tones the act, as colors blend in harmonious forms 
 and please unconsciously," said Mr. Parton. 
 
 " If God is love, then all we need is to drink in as 
 much of the divine element as we can hold. No 
 human being ever loved too much," continued Mr. 
 Delafield. 
 
 " No human being ever loved enough, unless he 
 love the one of all others most worthy to be loved." 
 
 " You mean the Son of God ? " asked Mr. Delafield. 
 
 " The only record of love that knew no guile," re- 
 plied the pastor. 
 
 " I have thought of it not a little since I was ill. 
 And while I would love him, I know not that I do," 
 continued Mr. Delafield. 
 
 " Then you may safely count that you do not. 
 Where the heart has need to question, there is little 
 love," answered the pastor. 
 
 " To love without a thought of self, I mean ; 
 hoping thereby to escape hell, or to enter heaven," 
 added Mr. Delafield. 
 
 ''This is not Christian love. We love him because 
 he first loved us ; and then it follows that we long 
 to be with him we love. It matters not where or 
 by what name it's called. Hell would be heaven, if 
 God was there," said Mr. Parton. 
 
 " It seems to me we tread the paths much in the 
 same way. I begin with the things of sight, through 
 the created up to him who formed and holds them 
 in their places. You, going to the fountain-head, 
 love the Creator, and, for his sake, the creatures that 
 he made." continued Mr. Delafield.
 
 142 D O WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 "The first and best; the only offering that he 
 will accept. He, a king's son, gave up his life to 
 ransom man. Can we do less than give him all we 
 have ? And this a gift too small to satisfy the 
 heart that truly loves him," said Mr. Parton, with 
 warmth. 
 
 "What weighty question is on the carpet?" said 
 Dr. Landseer, as he drew his chair to Daisy's side, 
 and looked across the table with an eye flashing 
 with light. 
 
 " Talking of love," whispered Daisy, with a smile. 
 
 " A subject in which we are all interested ; please 
 go on," said the doctor. 
 
 " Mr. Delafield claims that in all love there is a 
 portion of selfishness," Mr. Parton replied. 
 
 " To love is to assimilate in some weak form to 
 what we love. In loving God, we aim to be like 
 him; rubbing down our prejudices, enlarging our 
 charities, standing on the broad platform of loyp to 
 all," returned the doctor. 
 
 "Is this love natural to the human heart?" asked 
 Mr. Parton. 
 
 " The natural heart loves only what pleases taste : 
 beauty of form, a lovely face, and a well shaped hand 
 win stores of love. The love of God covers all : 
 the deformed lacketh nothing in his sight ; the poor 
 disgraced outcast has a right to say * Our Father;' 
 and for him, if so he choose, a spotless robe, a harp, 
 and crown of gold," the doctor replied. 
 
 "This is the love I want," said Mr. Delafield, while 
 a crimson stain was on his cheek. "A good, true,
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. I43 
 
 honest love ; loving God first, loving him most of 
 all, and, for his sake, all else beneath the sun." 
 
 " If you want this love, it may be yours," said the 
 pastor. 
 
 " How so i " asked Mr. Delafield. 
 
 " Ask, and ye shall receive." 
 
 *' And if I ask amiss ? " 
 
 ''The earnest soul asks earnestly. The child is 
 not loved less for speaking out his wants ; he does 
 it frarikly, closing with ' if you please,' A child's 
 privilege is ours, and there are no mistakes with 
 God," said the pastor. 
 
 There was a pause, in which the thoughts of each 
 played the same tune to a different key — the love 
 of God to man, and man's love to God ; the little 
 given, and that grudgingly. 
 
 " We 've not had Daisy's thought," said Mr. Par- 
 ton, as he rose to leave. " I half suspect she 'd make 
 it plain without the formula of many words, or Ellen 
 here. Hearts full of love and running over, spill the 
 glittering drops in dark alleys and pent-up rooms, 
 where suffering hearts are found." 
 
 " Love that does not prompt to this is counterfeit," 
 Daisy replied, while her cheek took a richer hue. 
 
 " Doctors have need of large and frequent supply. 
 I sometimes fear the love I have is some adulterated 
 thing, — lukewarm, and fit only to be cast a^lae," said 
 Dr. Landseer, as he took his hat. 
 
 '* Privileged to go to the fountain, the fault is ours 
 if we fail to drink a draught sufficient for our need," 
 said Mr. Parton, as he stood by the side of Daisy's
 
 144 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 chair. Layincr his hand upon her head, he added : 
 " A letter from Mr. Hawley. I was too selfish to 
 allow you to read while I was here." 
 
 The embers in the grate were dying out, with here 
 and there a ruddy gleam to break the pale, thin film 
 tinging Daisy's cheeks, and lighting up the corners 
 of the room. Sitting in her chair, with the letter 
 crumpled in her dimpled hand, strange thoughts 
 floated through her brain. The small dress she 
 had guarded so closely, and over which her tears 
 had fallen, was an object of interest to others. Each 
 tiny fold was sacred in her eyes, because she fancied 
 a mother's hand placed it there, thrusting her needle 
 in, and holding it up to see how it would fall. A 
 smile upon the full, round lip, as she thought of the 
 baby's glee, throwing back her dainty head, and toss- 
 ing the flaxen curls. Her lips two rose leaves cleft 
 with pearls ; the music of her little gurgling laugh 
 thrilling the mother's heart, and her sweet lisp, ** 'T is 
 pretty, mamma," making of earth a heaven. Then 
 all was changed; sunshine had faded from her sky; 
 no light, no voice, no little clinging arms. Was it 
 strange that reason had fled ? And still the heart 
 is haunted by the memory of what has been. 
 
 *'She seldom weeps," Mr. Hawley wrote. "To 
 please her, we dressed a doll in the small dress you 
 sent. For hours she sits and rocks the child, brush- 
 ing the soft, brown hair, talking in low, soothing 
 tones, with ' Hush ! she sleeps ! ' if a step is heard." 
 
 "It gives her comfort, and I" — and Daisy crossed 
 the room. For a moment she stood irresolute, then
 
 D WN WARD A ND UP WA R D. I45 
 
 Opening a drawer, drew forth a tiny pair of half-worn 
 shoes. 
 
 *'I']1 send her these, I think, and this," lifting a 
 handkerchief of finest linen, with a vine embroidered 
 within the hem, and something like a shield in the 
 two corners. *' It only makes me weep to look at 
 them, and keeps my heart full of gloom, when bright 
 and gay I ought to be for all He 's done for me." 
 
 A light shot upward from the last spent coal, ting- 
 ing the hangings with a crimson hue, and falling like 
 a veil over the faded bronze of the tiny shoes ; the 
 blue rosette was sparkling with a tear half caught by 
 Daisy's hand. 
 
 " It is all wrong. It might have been ; it would 
 have been, had He seen best. Just as it is He willed, 
 and I should be content. But this poor woman ; in 
 thinking of myself, I have forgotten her. I '11 pack 
 the shoes, and write a little note, and then my heart 
 will lighten of itself" 
 
 Kissing the handkerchief for the twentieth time, 
 she had it safely folded and packed, and, taking up a 
 pen, traced the name duly, then sealed the note, 
 and kneeling bowed her head. There was no spoken 
 word ; but silently she invoked a blessing on the gift, 
 a ray of healing for that smitten heart. 
 
 The shifting light was gone. A settled calm took 
 possession of the heart, crying out as it had done for 
 something unattained. Crossing her arms, her head 
 fell forward, and Daisy saw or seemed to see the long 
 and tangled track, the cares and trials 'incident to one 
 who held the place, as Kate had called it, "neither
 
 146 DOWAnVARB AND UPWARD. 
 
 the one nor the other." Early had she learned to be 
 self-reliant, doing for herself, and serving with un- 
 tiring hand, and still not proof against passionate 
 thoughts and speech when taunted, and held up to 
 ridicule. In such times Ja/ had always come to her 
 rescue, soothing her self-respect, and taming down 
 the mounting passion. A good, kind heart; but 
 crusted with the show of wealth, failing to measure 
 manly height by principle and mental worth, not by 
 the length of purse. 
 
 Through all the years his kindness had been the 
 same, and she had thanked him for it. Noiselessly 
 the shadows danced across the wall, her head fell 
 lower. What could she do for him ? Did she dream, 
 or was it the tinkling of the door-bell ? Again it 
 broke upon her ear, sharp and distinct. She paused 
 a moment, and then slid down the stairs. What a 
 sight met her eye as she opened the street door ! Jay 
 supported by two men, his hat thrown aside, and the 
 blood trickling over his white forehead. " What is 
 the matter? What has happened?" Daisy exclaimed, 
 as they led him in and placed him on the sofa. 
 
 "We have been to supper," said Cyrus, as he came 
 up a moment later. " After the cloth was removed 
 we had wine and toasts. Jay was excited ; there was 
 a general smash up ; and, in the fray, a piece of 
 glass struck him in the forehead. It is n't much. 
 Don't waken up the house." 
 
 Daisy saw it all. Going to Martin's room, she 
 roused the good housekeeper, and together they 
 dressed Jay's wound, and made him comfortable.
 
 D O WN WA RD A ND UP WA RD. T47 
 
 Cyrus, in the meantime, was talking volubly, expos- 
 ing more of his life than he would have willingly 
 done at any other time. 
 
 " We promised father that we would not go ; but 
 Grier and Collingwood came round, and there was 
 no refusing." 
 
 *' Had vou only come directly home," Daisy said, 
 seeing trmt Cyrus expected something in reply. 
 
 '* We have always been with that set ; and now to 
 shut down, as father wants, is more than we can do," 
 continued Cyrus. 
 
 " If you could only realize how badly it makes 
 him feel ; and he is not strong this winter. You 
 should think of that," said Daisy. 
 
 " I know ; and I don't like it more than you do. 
 To tell the truth. Jay and I are going it too strong. 
 But Jay can't bear to lag behind, and I 'm bound to 
 do pretty near as he does. We do spend too much, 
 and I know it," added Cyrus. 
 
 " Is the bill yours to-night ? " asked Daisy. 
 
 " For what we broke, of course." 
 
 " You won't be any happier to-morrow," was said, 
 gently. 
 
 " Plague take it ! If we could only think of this," 
 exclaimed Cyrus, with a muttered curse. 
 
 " Try it, Cyrus. Let this be your last time." 
 
 " I hope it is. Can't say though," was the careless 
 reply. 
 
 " If anything should happen to your father. 
 His health is miserable, and his business troubles 
 him," said Daisy, with feeling.
 
 148 DO WN WA RD A ND UP JVA R D. 
 
 " Why, in that case, we should have to do tor our- 
 selves," and Cyrus made an attempt to laugh. 
 
 "Can't you do that now, Cyrus, and keep, what 
 you have?" plead Daisy. 
 
 *' I 've been trying ever since Kate left. Have n't 
 you seen how steady I 've been ? " 
 
 ** I have seen with pleasure that you are more 
 frequently at home ; and I had hoped Jay was 
 viewing things differently," continued Daisy. 
 
 ** We'll learn by degrees. Don't feel badly. Every- 
 body has to sow their wild oats. Mine are almost 
 gone. I 'm going to settle down after a little." 
 
 " I am afraid it will be too late. Look at Jay, and 
 promise that you will not do it again," said Daisy, 
 with a voice full of entreaty. 
 
 "If I promise, I shall break it; and, still, I don't 
 mean to. It does seem as though the evil one gets 
 into us at times. Try as hard as I will, I can't do 
 differently," said Cyrus, as he reeled to the door. 
 
 "Is n't it fearful, this thirst for drink ? " Daisy said 
 to Martin, as Cyrus sought his chamber. " What 
 would I not give to save him from this terrible 
 curse ! " and the poor child threw herself on her 
 knees, and hid her face in Martin's lap. 
 
 "There is but One that can help him, child. You 
 can ask Him," answered Martin. 
 
 "I know; and I have not failed to ask with all the 
 earnestness I have. All winter I have hoped, and 
 now — " and Di's words were lost. 
 
 " Do not distrust His goodness, and His ability to
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. I49 
 
 save. It is for us to ask, to importune," continued 
 Martin. 
 
 " But when we see everything going wrong, it is so 
 hard," murmured Daisy. 
 
 " In all our troubles, and with all our complaints, 
 we are to go to Him. Tangled paths He can 
 straighten. He sees from the beginning, and He 
 knows the end," said Martin, as she caressed the 
 bowed head. 
 
 A groan from Jay startled them. 
 
 ** I fear this wound in the forehead is more than 
 we at first thought it ; and he seems to have a high 
 fever;" and Martin bent over the couch, and laid 
 her fingers on the throbbing temple. 
 
 " Would it be well for Dr. Landseer to see him ? " 
 asked Daisy. 
 
 " I don't feel quite satisfied without him ; and, 
 still, it is so very late," replied Martin. 
 
 " If you think best, I will go for him," Daisy said, 
 in a more cheerful tone. 
 
 ** I shall not a,llow you to go out to-night. If 
 either of us, I will go," returned Martin. 
 
 An hour passed. The blood was still trickling 
 from the feverish wound. 
 
 " If you are not afraid to stay by yourself, I will 
 go," said Martin. 
 
 " I am not afraid," was the firm response. 
 
 Low, incoherent words broke from the parched 
 lips, followed by jeering laughter. Were there 
 fiends in the room ? Jay thought so, and, sitting 
 up in bed, his eyes glared wildly. Laying her hand
 
 150 DOWAnVAJ^D AND UPWARD. 
 
 gently on his arm, Daisy soothed him, talking in 
 low tones, and passing her cool fingers over his burn- 
 ing forehead. Shrinking, trembling with affright, 
 and the next instant anxious to measure his strength 
 with the spirits of the air, it required all Daisy's 
 tact to keep him from outbreak. A night of hor- 
 rors ; but it passed. Morning found Dr. Landseer 
 beside the bed. His patient was a raving maniac.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CULMINATING. 
 
 A MONTH passed, — a month of torture such as 
 had never been known in Mr. Delafield's home. 
 To spare the parents, to hide their anguish from the 
 world, the good Martin removed Jay to her own 
 room, barring the door and windows that his infuri- 
 ated screams might not be heard. It-was pitiful to 
 look upon one so nobly endowed, so richly gifted 
 with all that could make life happy, and think that 
 drink placed him there. Fearful to listen to his im- 
 precations against the God that made him, the inco- 
 herent and muttered curses, the battling with spirits, 
 at intervals a lucid moment, like a flash of sunlight 
 in some dark abyss. Then, as if seeing his danger, 
 he would cry out for- help, with a voice of such an- 
 guish and deep, piercing despair. 
 
 With such misery, it required all the nerve Daisy 
 could master. Her heart was filled with pity for the 
 mother, vibrating between love for her child and 
 shame and sorrow at his disgrace ; while the rich 
 merchant, with his heart tortured till his lips 
 were bloodless, went daily to his store, blunting his 
 pain with toil, and determined, if possible, to outride 
 the storm that threatened him. How unfathomable 
 
 151
 
 152 DOWNWARDAND UPWARD. 
 
 the human heart ! How few know the heights of 
 joy that may be won, the beautiful fields in which 
 the soul may bask, or the depths of misery, the sting 
 of sorrow, the deadening, withering, blighting an- 
 guish in which the soul may be plunged, despairing 
 and crying out, and still the face be wreathed in 
 smiles, the lips tossing gay words, the eyes bright. 
 
 Mr. Delafield was ambitious. Conscious of mis- 
 takes, and aware that in his blind love he had not 
 exacted from his sons the obedience due ; that he 
 had failed to teach them the responsibility of life ; 
 that for them there was something to do, powers of 
 mind to be cultivated, right principles to be adhered 
 to ; even for the worldly advantages they possessed, 
 that they must render a strict account. Conscious 
 of this, and humbled in view of his neglect, he was 
 one to be pitied. He had not counted upon the 
 natural evil in the human heart. He loved his chil- 
 dren. It had been his aim to see them happy. He 
 had toiled to heap favors upon them. They were 
 cradled in luxury, lapped in indulgence. Labor was 
 unknown to them. He could afford to spare them 
 every hardship, and, in return, he expected their 
 love. He could not believe that for all his benefits 
 they would, as they grew older, bring down his gray 
 hairs with sorrow to the grave. True, others had 
 done so, and the record of Divine law had come 
 down to him, " Train up a child." He had minis- 
 tered to their physical wants, to the refinements of 
 taste and to social culture ; but he had not trained 
 them to withstand temptation, building up a strong,
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 153 
 
 pure principle within them — teaching them to feel 
 that for every gift received they must make good and 
 responsible return. 
 
 Try as Mr. Delafield would, immerse himself in 
 business as far as possible, he could not set aside 
 these thoughts. Precious souls had been intrusted 
 to him. The path was narrow and steep. There 
 was danger. The rough stones looked formidable. 
 He had not urged them. Below, it was broad and 
 fair. The flowers pleased them ; the gold-green 
 mosses won them to wander. He had not called 
 them back. He liked to see them enjoy themselves. 
 By and by they would, of their own accord, begin 
 the ascent. From his present standpoint, Mr. Dela- 
 field saw it all. The mountain heights were fresh 
 and pure: the narrow path, at first rough and 
 thorny, became easier as they made the ascent. 
 The flowers they had so much prized were poisonous ; 
 the gold-green moss was only to conceal the dark 
 morass : serpents hid away in secret places, luring 
 their victims, and, at length, crushing them in their 
 hideous folds. Seeing all this, was it strange that 
 he suffered ? that his life-blood oozed out in drops 
 of agony ? 
 
 While Jay was tossing upon his bed, Cyrus went 
 in and out of the room, silent and still. There was 
 little that he could do ; but, for a time, the demon 
 drink lost the supremacy. As a dreamer, suddenly 
 awaking, finds himself on the verge of a fearful 
 precipice, starts back with horror and affright, so 
 Cyrus recoiled from the hot, fiery breath — the lurid
 
 154 ^ O WN WARD A ND UP WA K £>. 
 
 flames ready to envelop him. Taking advantage 
 of this, Daisy endeavored to rouse his better nature, 
 pointing him to others, and entreating him to turn 
 from the old paths. At times, he listened patiently; 
 then, prompted by some unseen influence, he poured 
 into Daisy's ear the story of his life, the excesses to 
 which he was accustomed, the devouring thirst for 
 drink, and, when he tried to leave it, the almost 
 visible presence of the tempter, goading him on, 
 until he was almost ready to peril body and soul to 
 gratify his passion. It was a new phase of life, and 
 one of which the poor girl had never so much as 
 dreamed. Burdened with sorrow that she could not 
 share even with Ellen, Daisy felt, for the first time, 
 the inestimable privilege of companionship with the 
 only friend that could help her in such an hour, 
 pouring into His ear her wants and her desires, ask- 
 ing for advice and counsel to enable her to do all 
 that there was for her to do. Thoughts of self no 
 longer intruded upon her. She had forgotten the 
 path by which she had come. Neither did she look 
 forward to see where it was tending. Her cry was 
 for another : that Jay might be spared, and that this 
 terrible thirst for drink might be stayed. 
 
 Eveiy day Dr. Landseer gave his patient as much 
 of his time as possible, and every night Grant Clayton 
 was sure to come, with gentle words and noiseless 
 steps, to exorcise the spirits that were, or seemed 
 to be, leagued against the prostrate youth. In health, 
 there had been little sympathy between the two 
 young men. Now, Jay seemed to have a warm love
 
 D O WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 1 5 5 
 
 for the manly youth, saying, as his smiling face ap- 
 peared, " I am glad that you are strong and well. 
 You make them all afraid of you, and I can rest." 
 
 ** Yes, that is just what you are to do. You are to 
 sleep. I shall keep a sharp look out; have no fear," 
 answered Grant Clayton. 
 
 This was the time for Martin to get a little repose, 
 and Daisy slipped away to comfort Ellen. 
 
 " There is so little for me to do," murmured 
 Ellen, flinging herself into Daisy's arms, and press- 
 ing her tear-wet cheeks to the pale, sad face. 
 
 " And that little may have more blessing in it 
 than the weightier work of the hands," returned 
 Daisy. 
 
 '' But I want to do something that I can see," plead 
 Ellen. 
 
 " Do you remember the vine that Mr. Hawley 
 showed us — how he planted it, and, sitting at his 
 study-window watched it day after day, admiring its 
 glossy leaves and clinging tendrils? He had been 
 told so much of the beauty of the blossoms ; and, 
 during all the summer days, neither bud nor blossom 
 appeared," asked Daisy. 
 
 " I remember; and after he had given it up, think- 
 ing it a mistake, it blossomed into beauty far beyond 
 what he had dared to hope," answered Ellen. 
 
 *' But the blossoms were on the other side. It was 
 the fence that prevented him from seeing them," said 
 Daisy. 
 
 "And so, when we try to do anything, we may not 
 see the good of 'it? " asked Ellen.
 
 156 DOIVNIVARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " Not at the time. Mr. Havvley said it was for us 
 to plant, and, very possibly, the bloom would not 
 reveal its beauty till viewed from the other side," 
 added Daisy. 
 
 " But I have not even leaves. Mamma asked me 
 to write a letter. I did n't more than half do it ; and 
 when papa came in, I could n't say a word. All I 
 could do was to sit beside him, with my arms about 
 his neck," said Ellen, in a desponding tone. 
 
 " I have no doubt that comforted him more than 
 any form of speech. Silence expresses sympathy 
 that sweetly touches the heart," answered Di. 
 
 " You always have something comforting to say : 
 and I try; but it sticks in my throat," rejoined Ellen. 
 
 ** A smile, a word, a hand clasp, with these be 
 content. When you are older, there will be other 
 work. I hear Cyrus's step in the hall. Let us go 
 and say something pleasant to him. I would be 
 sorry to have him find us dull and gloomy," Di re- 
 turned, with a smile of encouragement.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 INTO THE LIGHT. 
 
 IT was a winter morning. The sun gilded the 
 mountain, and crowned its snow-capped summit 
 with shifting and many-colored lights ; far away, 
 the undulating ranges striking against the dark blue 
 of the sky, making the distance short from earth to 
 heaven. Like human beings, Nature has her gala 
 days, and glories in them. 
 
 ** Glorious in all His works ! " and the good pastor 
 in Tipton walked up and down the veranda, letting 
 his thoughts run up and down the mountain passes, 
 as though a ladder on which he saw, ascending and 
 descending, hosts innumerable. The valley lay be- 
 neath, — a silver cord, knotted with human dwellings. 
 Praise was written upon his face ; prayer was in his 
 heart. On his right was the small village, a charm- 
 ing foreground to the picture. As he looked, a tear 
 glistened and fell on the book he had been reading, 
 his finger still pressed between the leaves. For 
 twenty-five years he had ministered to the people, and 
 his heart was bound to them in love. Yonder, in the 
 little church-yard, slept the wife of his youth, and with 
 her the children she had borne him. But one was left 
 of all his kindred, his youngest and only sister, a poor, 
 heart-broken woman, with reason clouded. A myste- 
 H 157
 
 158 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 rious providence; but His purposes were good — in 
 His own time He would make it plain. Another 
 look at the white, glistening peaks, and the good 
 man saw, or seemed to see, the battlements of a city, 
 glorious as being the dwelling-place of the Most 
 High. No tears in heaven, and the face of the good 
 pastor grew luminous. "God shall wipe away all 
 tears from their eyes." In heaven, discipline will nc t 
 be needed. The soul, refined by the fires of afflic- 
 tion, will have parted with every impure element and 
 come forth as gold, ** complete in all the will of 
 God." Slower grew the pastor's step. He was think- 
 ing of the sad bereavement that mother had known. 
 *' No tears, no night there, no sad bereavements. 
 No clouds to intervene and settle darkly over the 
 horizon. There will be no eclipse of the divine 
 favor — our Father's face unobscured forever." In- 
 sensibly his face fell lower. He was thinking of the 
 partings, tears flowing down the faces, and the en- 
 tire being trembling with emotion. No heartaches 
 there ; but all will be joyous, happy, singing the 
 song of redeeming love. 
 
 A click of the white gate, and Mr. Hawley turned 
 his head. 
 
 " Good-morning, Seth. I am glad to see you. 
 When did you return from the city ? " 
 
 *' If that means when did I return to Tipton, last 
 night. It is nearly two months since I left New York." 
 
 " Now I think of it, your mother told me. Have 
 you arranged everything as you desire ? " asked Mr. 
 Hawley.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD, I59 
 
 " I believe so. I am to enter college at the next 
 commencement," Seth replied. 
 
 ** You will have to study between this and that 
 time, I suppose." 
 
 " That is the chief thing that brought me here 
 this morning. I must study, and I must work. My 
 studies must not burden my mother," said Seth, while 
 his face flushed with manly pride. 
 
 " She can get along quite as well this year as she 
 did last," and a smile lit up the benevolent face of 
 Mr. Hawley. 
 
 ''That is what I wanted to know, Mr. Hawley. 
 Will you have time to hear me once or twice a week, 
 at such times as I can give ? " and Seth looked pained 
 and embarrassed. 
 
 " That you have allowed this to trouble you, is evi- 
 dent. You should have known me better, Seth," was 
 Mr. Hawley's response. 
 
 " I am so much your debtor; and knowing, as I do, 
 that your time is taxed, I did not feel free to ask, 
 much as I desired it," added Seth. 
 
 " True, my time is occupied ; but it is given to the 
 needs of my people. You require my service, and 
 profit by it, consequently it is yours. Neither should 
 you hesitate to ask me. It is a pleasure for me to 
 teach you in my study, as it is from the pulpit. So 
 consider this question settled. Study as much as 
 possible, and recite when you can. Now, tell me of 
 our friends. You saw them, I suppose ? " asked Mr. 
 Hawley. 
 
 " Miss Delafield and Ellen ?" queried Seth.
 
 1 6o DO IV N IV A R D A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 " And Mr. Lyndsey," added Mr. Hawley. 
 
 " Yes, I saw them each. Ellen sent her warm .l 
 love, and Daisy made me the bearer of a small 
 package for your sister. She remembers her sum- 
 mer trip with pleasure, and trusts some day to be 
 able to come again. The family in which she lives 
 lean upon her ; some giving love, and others some- 
 thing akin to hate. One can see that she tries to 
 walk between the two, as in duty bound. You say 
 that you have time, and I may come ? " and Seth 
 turned to go. 
 
 " Knowing your strait, I shall be ready, never fear. 
 My kind remembrance to your mother, Seth." And 
 the pastor watched the young man as he walked 
 firmly away, speaking half aloud, as he turned to his 
 room, "He's a noble lad, and sure to make a man, 
 if God spares his life;" and with this the pastor 
 closed his study-door and bolted it. 
 
 The parcel lay open upon the table, the note be- 
 side it. The pastor paused, and bowed his head. 
 During all the summer days, a voice seemed to say 
 that her place was here. Stronger than reason is the 
 love implanted in a mother's heart. By what law, 
 I know not, but there sprang a sudden love between 
 them, asking no proof, and giving none. And again 
 the good man recounted the little incidents, the looks 
 and words, as they chanced to meet; the feeling of 
 rest and quiet on the sick woman's face, sitting with 
 her hand in Daisy's, her eyes no longer tearful. At 
 times he thought her better, the inner life smoothed 
 out, the tangled thread of thought unknotted. Then
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. l6l 
 
 a doubt would come to mar the plan, and send the 
 airy structure to the ground — the dates were not 
 the same. But might not Mabel's child have been 
 nursed tenderly at first? Might not the plan to rear 
 her gradually have changed — a sudden loss or death 
 won them to desert the child they had promised 
 themselves to treat with kindness ? There was no 
 answer — there had been none from the first. All. 
 means had been used, but no traces could be found, 
 and, as the years rolled by, all hope had vanished. 
 Was it wrong to let a thought of what might have 
 been trouble the serenity of a heart washed of 
 earthly ills, — a heart that had been emptied of 
 worldly goods ? The pastor did not question. A guide 
 to others, he was himself led. Pointing others up the 
 narrow track, he did not fail himself to keep the guide 
 in view — the hand of faith reaching up for help. 
 Tribulation could not separate him from the love of 
 One whose heart could be touched with the story 
 of his woe. He realized that each event in life was 
 only a link in the golden chain to draw him nearer, 
 and knowing this, he left it in the Father's hand. 
 
 How sweet, how precious is it, when the heart is 
 torn, to have a God to go to in our need — the One 
 able to turn the sharpest afflictions into the greatest 
 blessings — the One who would never smite, if he 
 were not willing to heal. Neither would he with- 
 hold a privilege, if he had not a better substitute. 
 
 With such thoughts the pastor tried to console 
 himself. Now looking upon the tiny half-worn 
 shoes, the delicate handkerchief, and then pourings 
 14* L
 
 t62 do wn \va rd a nd up wa r d. 
 
 out his heart in weakness, — comforted, as a mother 
 comforts the least of her children. Thus occupied, 
 the good man failed to hear the slight rap at the 
 door; and not till a low, plaintive voice called his 
 name, did he lift his head. 
 
 "Mabel, what troubles you?" as he went to meet 
 .the stricken one. Then, turning for the tiny half- 
 worn shoes and the gossamer handkerchief, he led 
 her to her room.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SHIFTING 'SANDS. 
 
 IN a shrouded room, solemn and still, a soul was 
 passing from its earthly home. Yesterday Paul 
 Browning entered the counting-room. The mer- 
 chant was sitting at the table, his head bowed on his 
 hand, the crimson tide pouring over the pallid lips ; 
 and, to-day, there is no hope. Dr. Landseer has no 
 remedies — love has no healthful agencies. Sob- 
 bings have almost ceased, and tears are no longer 
 given. For hours have they battled with their grief. 
 It is spent. The waning life is almost done. 
 
 Over the threshold totters a thin, pale youth. 
 Fever has died out, and the wild light in his eye 
 vanished. He kneels beside the bed. ''Father! 
 father ! speak to me." 
 
 The languid eyes open ; the lips move. A whisper 
 light as air. 
 
 ** My son." 
 
 " Father, forgive. I was mad. I did not know." 
 
 "We have both erred, my son. May God forgive; 
 and for the future — " There was a pause, a flutter- 
 ing of the breath. 
 
 Kneeling beside her first-born, the mother clasped 
 the death-cold hand. 
 
 163
 
 164 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " For your mother's sake, my son. Is Cyrus 
 here?" 
 
 Alas ! for days Cyrus had not been at home. In 
 a strange passion he left the house ; and now a 
 father's blessing will not meet his child. A look of 
 anguish crept over the ashen face ; the death-damps 
 gathered. " Tell him," and his eye sought Daisy 
 out. "Help him." The words were caught up on 
 the other side — the messenger had gone. 
 
 It was the mid-day hour ; and in the market-place, 
 and along the public squares, it quickly passed: "A 
 rich man 's dead." Some praise him as a good, 
 kind-hearted soul, with generous purse held open to 
 his friends; and others blamed : "Too ||sy by half. 
 Those sons of his have squandered all his gains. No 
 wonder that he 's dead." 
 
 Each had a word, and then he was forgot, — the 
 man on whom they had fawned in life, eating his 
 suppers, and crowding in at his hospitable board. 
 So much for love. And, still, this man had a heart 
 to prize it, to yearn after it as the goodliest thing 
 earth had to give. 
 
 From a princely home, a richly-blazoned coffin 
 was carried forth. Then followed a long train of 
 sumptuous carriages, winding along the street to the 
 place of graves. Solemn and slow, they placed him 
 in a sculptured vault, and turned away. Their hearts 
 were lighter with a duty done. 
 
 A week passed, and there was rumor of a broken 
 firm. The rich man died a bankrupt.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 165 
 
 " No wonder," said the world, and rolled along. 
 One grain of sand is never missed, one withered 
 leaf unnoticed. 
 
 " His goods will have t-o go," said one he called a 
 friend. 
 
 ** There '11 be a chance to make" a figure," said an- 
 other. 
 
 ** His horses will just suit me," cried a third. 
 
 " And his house. I knew the time would come. 
 Such lavish expenditure could not last. There will 
 be no more driving up and down the town, and less 
 champagne those boys will guzzle down." Thus 
 each had something to throw against the coffin of 
 his friend — while, in her humble home, a widow 
 sat and wept. 
 
 *' When Grant was ill, he was our faithful friend. 
 His kindness saved us. I could not have kept my 
 children but for him." 
 
 Struck down in her grief, the failure did not aston- 
 ish Mrs. Delafield. In a manner, she was prepared 
 for it ; and Daisy and Ellen sustained themselves as 
 those who had thought of the possibility of such an 
 event. For months, Mr. Delafield had battled with 
 his fears, and freely had he spoken to his wife and 
 children. 
 
 To Jay and Cyrus it was unexpected. Stunned 
 by the blow, they could not realize it. There was 
 some mistake. True, their father had warned them; 
 but he was ill. It could not be that his wealth had 
 really disappeared. And not till the red flag was 
 perched in the front window did they begin to feel
 
 l66 D O WAYWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 it was anything but a myth, — a bugbear conjured up 
 to frighten them. Jay was better, but he was not 
 strong. Cyrus was more erratic than before. What 
 was done, Daisy must do; and bravely she endeav- 
 ored to fulfil the task. 
 
 In these circumstances, frequent consultations were 
 held. Dr. Landseer was made still more of a confi- 
 dant. The house in which they lived must be given 
 up. Jay protested, and Cyrus urged a delay to the 
 last limit of the law. 
 
 " I would rather do it now," said Mrs. Delafield. 
 " This plan your father would have resorted to had 
 he lived. A smaller house will better suit us, and, 
 if we find that more is left us than would now ap- 
 pear, an arrangement can easily be made more in 
 keeping with our taste." 
 
 Affliction weakens some natures ; it strengthens 
 and ennobles others. As the fiery furnace to purge 
 the dross from the pure metal, so sorrow burns into 
 the heart, sending a white heat through the nooks 
 and crevices of each secret chamber, bringing out in 
 palpable shape and form whatever is good and 
 worthy, and burning up, like dross, the glittering 
 tinsel of selfish indulgence. Mrs. Delafield's ener- 
 gies were aroused. She was capable of being a true 
 woman. Possessed of a lofty spirit, she would not 
 have it flung in her teeth that she was living on 
 money that belonged to her husband's creditors. 
 Mrs. Delafield was too proud to be vain. Besides, 
 she saw, as did her husband, the mistake made in 
 the education of her children, and her love was
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 167 
 
 awakened, her prudence startled. Her sons were 
 young. This would rouse their better nature. When 
 they saw the sacrifice that she could make, they 
 would be induced to put forth every effort. Thus 
 nerving herself, and hoping in every turn to see 
 amendment, Mrs. Delafield allowed Daisy to plan 
 and arrange for the comfort of a smaller house, a 
 less expensive establishment. 
 
 '* We are each of us to do something," said Daisy, 
 as Dr. Landseer called to offer a little of his practi- 
 cal wisdom. " My voice has been praised for sweet- 
 ness and power. Expense has been lavished to cul- 
 tivate it ; and I am glad that I have a gift whereby 
 I can support myself and benefit others." 
 
 " There was a time when it would have cost me 
 more to make this change than it does at present," 
 Mrs. Delafield remarked, as, with the freedom of a 
 friend. Dr. Landseer spoke of her sons. " We have 
 been too indulgent with our children. In our" love, 
 we thought it the greatest good to save them as much 
 as possible from actual contact with the stern reali- 
 ties of life. We flattered ourselves it would be time 
 enough when they grew up," and the tears rained 
 over the mother's face. 
 
 " When vines are weak they are propped," replied 
 the doctor ; ** but when strong enough to stand 
 alone, they are suffered to climb, with but a narrow 
 thread to run upon." 
 
 ** And thus you argue human vines have to be 
 trained, supported, not carried." 
 
 " There is nothing brought to perfection without
 
 1 68 DO IVN WA RD A ND UP IV A R D. 
 
 labor. Favoring circumstances add greatly to har- 
 monious growth, but persistent effort overcomes and 
 smooths the ruggedness of the way — the beauty and 
 symmetry the more marked because of unfavorable 
 surroundings," was the reply. 
 
 " There is but one thing that troubles me," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Delafield ; " a fear that the routine of 
 business will be deemed drudgery, from which they 
 will be anxious to escape by some other door. 
 Without business habits, and with less to spend, it 
 will require a good deal of moral courage." 
 
 "There are turning-points in every life — times 
 when the soul looks over the field of promise and 
 wisely resolves to win a position. Let us hope for 
 the best. In the meantime, we are to help them all 
 we can," returned Dr. Landseer. 
 
 Friendship is a plant of delicate growth. A breath 
 mars its beauty, and a word may kill it. Like seed 
 dropped into different soils, its growth is affected by 
 the circumstances in which it is placed. Rough 
 winds are unfavorable to its perpetuity. Mrs. 
 Delafield was led to philosophize. It was autumn 
 with her friends; and the few wafted to her door by 
 the spent wind of kindly favor, loitered just long 
 enough to remind her of the past, and with a sigh, 
 whether of loss to themselves or of condolence for 
 her, swept gracefully away. 
 
 " There is one advantage. We know those who 
 care for us in reality," and a blush mantled Daisy's 
 cheek. 
 
 Thanks to Mr. Delafield, Grant Clayton could walk,
 
 D OIVNIVARD AND UPWARD. 169 
 
 and a path was opening up to him of usefulness and 
 honor. Humble as he was, he had the courage to 
 offer deeds, and the bare consciousness that his ser- 
 vices were accepted thrilled his manly spirit with 
 still deeper feeling. The generous soul realizes an 
 exquisite pleasure in being able to return a favor. 
 Much of the weariness and labor of change Mrs. 
 Clayton and Grant took upon themselves, leaving 
 Mrs. Delafield to see little of the roughness of the 
 way, and helping Daisy materially in her new and 
 untried plans. Since Jay's illness. Grant had been 
 on more intimate terms with him ; and, still, there 
 .was little in common, — the one obliged to do, 
 thereby increasing in mental as well as in physical 
 strength ; the other, self-indulgent and fond of dissi- 
 pation. Unselfish in his effort, Grant made bold to 
 suggest plans, speaking of those who had come up 
 through the agency of their own persistent effort. 
 Jay listened at times, and at others grew impatient, 
 while Cyrus manifested decided dislike for anything 
 like business. 
 
 The new home was in the near vicinity of Mr. 
 Parton's dwelling, and the kindly relations subsist- 
 ing between the pastor and Daisy and Ellen strength- 
 ened tenfold. Not alone on the Sabbath day did 
 they receive new life and encouragement from meet- 
 ing in the sanctuary, but during the week, — the words 
 scattered tending greatly to stimulate exertion and 
 to keep their hearts from fainting by the way. 
 Gradually Mrs. Delafield was won into more thought- 
 fulness, the story of His love opening up to her 
 15
 
 1 70 DO WN WA RD A ND UP IV A R D. 
 
 beauty and tenderness unseen before, — the days not 
 as lonely, self and selfish sorrow forgotten in realiz- 
 ing, to some extent, the watchful care round about 
 them. If old friends deserted them, they made 
 some new ones, and of a class which they had not 
 previously encountered, their pulses -beating more in 
 harmony with suffering souls, a quick, generous 
 sympathy springing up, leading them out of them- 
 selves, and thus increasing their happiness in pro- 
 portion as they endeavored to sustain others. In 
 these little schemes, Jay and Cyrus took no part, ab- 
 senting themselves as much as possible ; and, still, 
 under the name of business, ""oinq; out at niq-ht, and 
 returning beside themselves with drink, unheeding 
 the warnings and the entreaties of those that loved 
 them. Then confined to his room by that fearful ill- 
 ness that succeeds days of dissipation, it was pitiful 
 to listen to Jay, the yearning, heart-devouring rest- 
 lessness, anxious to do, and still irritated by reason 
 of the change. Confined to the drudgery of busi- 
 ness, when he had all his life been accustomed to 
 habits of ease and indulgence, the excitement of 
 drink, the surcease from care. 
 
 " You would not wonder at it, if you knew just 
 how I feel. Try as I will, I cannot settle myself to 
 the dull, plodding round of a day laborer, goaded 
 and stung in thinking of what I was and, now, what 
 I am," and, burying his face in the pillow, such 
 bitter, burning tears, such withering sobs, as made 
 them all weep. Won back by care, and soothed by 
 unwearied tenderness, to go forth again, only to re-
 
 D O VVN IV A A' n A ND UP WA R D. I / 1 
 
 turn in the same manner, the good within him 
 weaker, the evil influences stronger by reason of in- 
 dulgence. 
 
 A year had passed. It was a June day. The 
 
 earth looked up with a smile of faith and love into 
 
 the clear, blue sky, whose mysterious depths seemed 
 
 to give promise of a brighter, better future. A gentle 
 
 ^^_^ west wind came up the pleasant street, and stately 
 
 ^^ trees and odorous flowers sent a love-greeting. Upon 
 
 f the veranda of a quiet house stood a young girl, and 
 
 looked admiringly upon the sunshine and the clouds. 
 
 Rich bloom was on her cheek, and her red lips parted. 
 
 Her glowing face was full of expectation. A vine- 
 
 P rose was struggling up the rustic porch. ** Suppose 
 
 I help it climb," was murmured to herself, and, plung- 
 
 ^ ■ ^ . ing her hand within the depth of green, she drew it 
 
 ^v ^"^to its height, and fastened it with a blue thread to an 
 
 .^..outstanding nail. 
 
 " Your vines have a healthy look. I 'm glad to see 
 them thrive so well," said a well-known voice, and 
 Daisy turned to welcome Dr. Landseer. 
 
 " I was not quite sure : I was in hopes," and the 
 blood mounted in rosy waves, then left the face with 
 that calm pallor that denotes high resolve. ** I 
 wanted you to see how nice we look: and there is 
 something else," and Daisy snapped a rosebud from 
 the stem. 
 
 ** You do not fear to tell me, child ? " 
 ** I do not fear ; but I have been to you so many 
 times. For three days Jay has been in bed ; and this
 
 172 DO IVN IV A A' L A ND UF W A R D. 
 
 morning he raves much as he did in that fearful 
 illness." 
 
 " It is too bad; and, still," and a vexed look was 
 on the doctor's face. " It is not a week since I took 
 him out to ride, and told him that the only way for 
 him and Cyrus to do was to give it up at once. He 
 promised — promised faithfully, poor boy." 
 
 " His mother feels it far more than she did at first ; 
 and Ellen sleeps not a wink," continued Daisy. 
 
 "Where is she now? " asked Dr. Landseer. 
 
 *' I sent her to Mr. Parton for a book. I did it 
 purposely. She is too young to feel so sadly over 
 what she cannot help." 
 
 " That 's a mistaken theory ; and, if carried far, 
 would strand her where the others lie. Sorrow and 
 joy blossom in paths trod by the young as well as 
 by the old. Standing upon the shore the boy will 
 never learn to swim, but plunging in and battling 
 with the waves, he learns to conquer," said the doc- 
 tor, earnestly. 
 
 " You must confess it 's hard to see a child bearing 
 the burdens of middle age," returned Daisy. 
 
 " The child bears his own burden suited to his 
 strength, and just as needful for him, as a child, as 
 the one sure to be given in after years. I remember 
 when I felt as sadly, looking at a crushed butterfly 
 lifeless in my hand, as I have since done in losing 
 those I love," rejoined the doctor. 
 
 " I like to think He fits the burden for us. Still, I 
 have sometimes thought it is easier to bear than to 
 see others suffer," was Daisy's reply.
 
 D O WN \VA R D A ND UP W A R D. 1/3 
 
 *' In whatever sorrow, remember that He will bear 
 by far the greatest share, comforting as He did of 
 old the two walking in company to the small village 
 where they lived ; and when He would go farther, 
 with one accord they cried, 'Abide with us,' and He 
 did not refuse," said Dr. Landseer. 
 
 A step was on the stair, and Mrs. Delafield spoke 
 cheerfully: "It's pretty, isn't it? and cheerful with 
 its song of birds, and scent of roses such as I 've 
 seen in country places growing wild. I always knew 
 Daisy for a handy little woman, but I had not tested 
 her fine skill in fitting up small rooms." 
 
 It was said bravely, to hide her grief, and the doc- 
 tor knew it. Pausing, he laid his finger on her arm. 
 " Have no concealments. I '11 serve you, if I can." 
 
 Tears d'mmed the mother's eyes. 
 
 " Jay feels degraded in the room of being roused, 
 as I had hoped. He says he has tried ; but it is hard 
 to meet with those he used to know; and then, to 
 drown his thoughts, he flies to drink. I cannot bear 
 to think of it ; and, still, what can I do ? " 
 
 "Is he in his room? •" asked the doctor. 
 
 " He is in his room, half wild, and doubtful what to 
 do. He thinks sometimes that it would be easier 
 for him somewhere else. I have thought of that ; 
 but, oh, I cannot bear to have him leave me now. 
 So long as he is with us, we can watch over him to 
 some extent; and should he fail — " while sobs 
 shook the thin frame, and the mother's tears fell 
 fast. 
 
 '* Let us take heart. Reforms are not effected 
 15*
 
 1 74 DO \VN IV A RD A ND UP IV A R D. 
 
 without continual struggle. To accomplish anything 
 worth doing, one has to strive ; and to keep from 
 doing requires as much strength of nerves and force 
 of will as to keep doing," and the doctor's voice was 
 full of tenderness. 
 
 '* Your words are helpful, and I owe you much. 
 Will you see Jay ? " and leaving Dr. Landseer to 
 enter alone, Mrs. Delafield turned to the silence of 
 her room to weep and pray as stricken mothers 
 only can. 
 
 The sun was waning when Dr. Landseer left his 
 patient's room. Ellen was sitting on the steps read- 
 ing her book. Her eyes filled as she looked up. 
 Mrs. Delafield was sitting near. 
 
 " Jay is sorry for his fault, and says it frankly. Sit- 
 ting at home, we may not know how sorely he is 
 tried. To help him may demand that he should 
 leave the city, and Cyrus with him," said the doctor. 
 
 "Do you advise it. Dr. Landseer?" asked Mrs. 
 Delafield. 
 
 "I do not advise it; but perhaps it will be best." 
 
 " If we could go with them," said Mrs. Delafield. 
 " Without a home to go to, not even a friend to in- 
 fluence them aright, I shall feel still more anxious 
 with regard to them." 
 
 " Others have to swing up from round to round. 
 It is an easy thing to go to the mast-head, but 
 quite another thing to come down. It is the coming 
 down that troubles Jay, and, on that account, it may 
 be easier to begin on new ground. I see that Bar-
 
 D O IVN VVA R D A ND UP WA R D. 1 75 
 
 bara is with you," continued the doctor, as the air 
 of a quaint song floated out to them. 
 
 " Barbara has never known any other home. I 
 could not bear to send her away so long as she 
 chooses to remain," replied Mrs. Delafield. 
 
 " Here is a note for Daisy. I forgot to give it as 
 I came in," added the doctor, as he was taking his 
 leave. 
 
 " She is here to take it for herself, and also to tell 
 Dr. Landseer what he will be glad to know — that 
 she has already a fine class in music," said Daisy, 
 coming from an inner room. 
 
 " Not fashionable, of course, or they would not 
 practise through the summer," rejoined the doctor, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 " Neither am I a professor," replied Daisy. 
 
 " Professors do not make the best teachers," con- 
 tinued the doctor. 
 
 " My fame is to be won," added Daisy. 
 
 ** Singing birds are always prized. Have you no 
 curiosity about the note ? " and the doctor's hand 
 closed over it. 
 
 ''Another pupil, perhaps." 
 
 " I would n't wonder if it is. Don't refuse, Daisy. 
 I judge, from the handwriting, it is from one that 
 can be trusted," said the doctor, making his bow. 
 
 "It is something to be thankful for, — a friend 
 like Dr. Landseer," and Daisy ran away to read her 
 note.
 
 T 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 LEAVING HOME. 
 
 HE little village of Tipton was bathed in the 
 golden glow of sunset. A crimson fringe of 
 cloud rested on the brown hills, and melted into 
 shadowy waves to meet the crisp stubble-fields. 
 
 At the door of her home Mrs. White sat, the per- 
 fume of the flov.'ers stealing into her heart, and stir- 
 ring memory -yith thought: of earlier days. Her 
 eyes caught the rippling brown of Lydia's hair, as, 
 seated on the steps, she looked for the dun cows 
 coming down the lane. A quiet summer they had 
 passed, and, if they seldom spoke of what had 
 been, they thought of it the more. With work and 
 study, Seth had been content, while Lydia's thought 
 was merged in his life plan, and her hand was quick 
 to help in little nameless ways. Autumn trailed 
 her robes across the fields, and, with the help of 
 Nathan Orcutt and his team, the frugal sheaves were 
 gathered in. 
 
 To Lydia, this darling brother Seth was the ideal 
 of manly strength and excellence. She dreamed of 
 him at night, and feasted her soul with stolen looks 
 by day, careful to guard her tongue when once his 
 
 176
 
 D O WN WA RD A ND UP W A R D. I // 
 
 eye rested upon his book, — a woman's instinct ren- 
 dering her quick to guard his time as something 
 more precious than she called her own. Quiet and 
 sweet her love, asking for nothing and giving all, 
 without the shadow of a thought the time miofht 
 come when other longings would spring up to mar 
 her restfulness. 
 
 A merry whistle broke upon the air, and Lydia 
 bounded like a fawn, dropping the brown bars with 
 her dimpled hand, standing in quiet grace, as Bess 
 and Nell and May, looking their welcome with great 
 mellow eyes, passed down the lane. 
 
 A handful of bright-hued flowers, asters and golden 
 rod, knotted with long brown grass, Seth brings. 
 '* I 've robbed the pasture," as he placed them in 
 Lydia's hand. 
 
 " I 'm glad you thought of me," ventured Lydia, 
 and blushes met the golden of her hair. 
 
 " I 'm always doing that," replied Seth, and one 
 by one the bars shot into place. 
 
 " Keep them, mother, till I come in," said Lydia, 
 as she sprang gayly to the porch and down again, 
 armed with a pail, and taking one for Seth. Then 
 crouching down by the side of Bess, she brimmed 
 her pail with foam. " You are a good Bess. Good- 
 night," nodding her head. With this she swings her 
 pail with steady step to the small dairy, where her 
 mother waits to strain from speck and hair the 
 creamy wave in pans to set upon the glistening shelf. 
 This done, and the dun cows fed, Seth fills the basin 
 at the pump, and bathes his heated brow and toil- 
 
 M
 
 178 DO WN IVA RD A ND UP IV A R IJ. 
 
 stained hands, wiping his face on the crash towel 
 hanging by the door, changes his coat, and brushes 
 out his hair, his work done for the day. 
 
 " I took the office in my round ; and here 's a let- 
 ter only half read," as quietly he took the chair 
 Lydia had placed for him on the narrow porch. 
 
 " From Cousin Herbert," and Lydia rested her 
 head on Seth's broad shoulder. "What does he say? 
 Please read it, Seth." 
 
 " He writes to tell us of his summer tour, per- 
 haps," and Mrs. White rocked in her easy-chair. "I 
 was in hopes he'd spend a week with us. I like him 
 for himself as well as for the mother's look he wears." 
 
 " He 's hard at work, and with but little time," 
 Seth replied. " The letter turns not upon himself. 
 He has a plan for me." 
 
 The words dropped slowly, every one distinct. 
 Quick beat the mother's heart. Strange thoughts 
 had floated through her brain all day, with sense of 
 change and presage of something shadowy and un- 
 defined. It was of this she dreamed, as sitting on 
 the porch, the sunset radiance tinged the distant 
 hills, a keen thrust stinging her heart. Full well 
 she knows it is the mother's lot to bear, to rear, to 
 lose. How quick the children slip from loving arms. 
 'T was only yesterday Seth was a baby, pulling at 
 her gown and denting her bosom with his pearly 
 teeth. That's gone. She does not feel so very old, 
 and he 's fast merging into bearded manliness. She 
 sees his father in his face, this boy on whom she's 
 leaned, and now her prophetic heart tells her of
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 1/9 
 
 change. Longing to^hear, and still she dreads to 
 know, a moment passes. 
 
 " Tell us, my son." 
 
 " You know my plans were frustrated last year. 
 I wrote him of it, and also of my studies, the books 
 I 'd read. He says he thinks it would be well for me 
 to take a private class, — enough to pay my way, — 
 and study just the same myself in class, and under 
 the guidance of professors, every day. He knows 
 of such a place, and, if I wish, he will secure it for 
 me. It seems to me a goodly offer, my very wish, 
 only the leaving home." Seth dropped his voice to 
 a low whisper, and his misty eyes saw not the an- 
 guish in his mother's face. 
 
 " I have known, sooner or later, it must come to 
 this," and there was a gurgling sound in the mother's 
 throat; while Lydia twined her white arms around 
 her brother's neck and sobbed heavily. 
 
 " If your heart is against it, mother, and you, my 
 little sister," lifting her head and kissing her brown 
 cheek, "the answer is yours to give." 
 
 " You must go, Seth. I 've felt something was 
 asked of me through all the day. I 've had such 
 thoughts before. It would be wrong to keep you 
 back from work that you can do. God opens 
 paths, and, if we fail to enter, the penalty is ours. 
 When does he think you had best leave ? " asked the 
 mother. 
 
 " Within a month." 
 
 " So soon ! And yet 't is best. Have you seen 
 Mr. Hawley ? "
 
 1 80 DO WN WA RD A N D UP W A R D. 
 
 " No one but you," returned Seth. 
 
 " I know he will approve. Still, it may be well tc 
 counsel with him. I heard to-day his sister, Mrs. 
 Lisle, is very ill ; and, as her body weakens day by 
 day, her mind is more at rest, with glimpses not un- 
 frequent of reason," continued Mrs. White. " 
 
 '''He has been a faithful watcher. Would he could 
 see her all that she was to him," said Seth. 
 
 "There is a rumor that her husband has been 
 heard from, and this has caused the change," replied 
 Mrs. White. 
 
 "It is strange: the wanderings of tangled intel- 
 lects,^the wisdom sometimes displayed, and the wild 
 vagaries — the saddest of all human ills," added 
 Seth. 
 
 " I should not think she'd care to see her husband. 
 W^as I in Mr. Hawley's place, he should not look 
 at her," and indignation gleamed iji Lydia's eyes. 
 
 " We must not condemn without full hearing of 
 his story," said Mrs. White. " That there was blame 
 and grievous wrong is sure ; by whom inflicted is 
 not known. The child was stolen, doubtless mur- 
 dered, that she might not claim the property in her 
 father's right," and Mrs. W^nite stood up, pausing a 
 moment to tangle her fingers in the mesh of short, 
 crisp curls thai fell over Seth's forehead. " Your 
 letter has mad 3 me half forget the supper waiting, 
 all but the quick drawn tea." 
 
 " That I am to make," and Lydia slid behind her 
 brother's chair. 
 
 The sweetest drops of bliss are concentrated in the
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. l8l 
 
 smallest space of time. The mother's heart was drink- 
 ing- in a joy, the memory of which would gladden 
 life for years to come. 
 
 ** Come, mother, for a cup of tea. I know it 's 
 nice ; and the cakes Seth loves so well^ crisped to a 
 turn," said Lydia, in a voice bright and clear. 
 
 Mrs. White was not one to brood over what could 
 not be helped. Hers was too healthful a nature to 
 find fault. She did not dream to hinder Seth in his 
 course. Her pride was only equalled by her love. 
 She would not have him dwarfed and stinted because 
 of weakness on her part, and resolutely flinging her 
 grief aside, she led the way to the small supper- 
 room, turning the channel of thought, and at once 
 beginning to plan for the coming change. 
 
 The autumn moon was looking in at the window 
 of the pastor's study, tinging the books and laying 
 bars of light acros? the wall. Warm as the days, the 
 nights were crisp and cool, and a small fire of sticks 
 was burning faintly on the hearth. 
 
 In his study chair, the pastor sat before a table 
 piled with folios, papers, and manuscripts. In one 
 hand he held an open letter, and in the other pillowed 
 his chin, his elbow on the table. At his feet lay a 
 graceful hound, with head stretched out to meet the 
 fire. Like her master, she was dreaming, perchance, 
 of what had been. Above the mantel hung the 
 pictured outline of a lovely girl, her sunny curls 
 and laughter-loving eyes like liquid wells of well- 
 directed thought. The play of moonbeams on the 
 rug, and Blanche started, yawned, and stretched her-
 
 1 8 2 DO IV N WA RD A N D UP IF A A' D, 
 
 self, then turned and rubbed her graceful length of 
 nose against the pastor's knee. The charm was 
 broken, and, with a sigh, the good man raised his head. 
 
 "You are a good friend, Blanche," and he laid the 
 letter on the table, and patted the silken head. A 
 little whimpering cry was Blanche's response. 
 
 For twenty - five years this small room had 
 been the pastor's favorite resort. Not alone to study, 
 but to think and dream. An uneventful life, and, 
 still, sharp and fiery trials had been his. When first 
 he came to Tipton, his heart was rich in love of 
 wife and children ; while a young sister left to his 
 care, as the last charge of a dying mother, made his 
 home happy as a home could be. For years his wife 
 and children had slept in the quiet churchyard, and 
 this one sister was a faded, broken-hearted woman. 
 There was a struggle in the pastor's heart. This 
 letter was from one to whom he had given the price- 
 less boon of a sister's love. In all the land there 
 was not a happier home. Then came a tiny birdling 
 to the nest, folded its wings, and grew on the glad 
 smiles it won. The father was beside himself with 
 joy, and it was hard to tell which worshipped most, 
 — the mother, in her gushing wealth of love, or the 
 proud father, his heart brimming over with tender- 
 ness. Then came a change : the world was dark, 
 and that sweet mother's thoughts wildered and 
 jangled, like discordant bells. 
 
 It was not his fault, the husband writes. A victim 
 he had been as well, mourning for years the loss 
 of wife and child. What answer could the pastor
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 183 
 
 make ? Should he forgive, and take him to his home 
 to see the wreck and hapless ruin of the one he 
 loved ? Or should he nurse a cold and haughty 
 spirit, and spurn him from the door ? " Forgive, as 
 you hope to be forgiven," went sounding through 
 the pastor's heart. Unconsciously his head fell to 
 the level of his hand, and a low prayer went up, 
 A shadow came between the pastor and the fire. 
 
 " Pardon, if I intrude. I rapped three times, and 
 ventured to come in. Blanche is glad to see me." 
 It was ,Seth White. 
 
 "And so am I," replied the pastor, rising from his 
 chair. " To tell the truth, I did not know I 'd been 
 here quite so long. Tired with my watch at Mabel's 
 bedside, with letters waiting to be read, I came in 
 here. The sun was not then down, and now 'tis 
 night." 
 
 "I hope your sister is better," and tenderness was 
 in the full, round voice. 
 
 " I left her sleeping sweetly as a child. But tell 
 me of yourself Our evenings have been broken in 
 upon," and the pastor drew Seth to a chair beside 
 him. 
 
 ** My lessons have gone on. Sometimes I found 
 it hard ; but I have mastered them. I come to-night 
 with fewer questions than I used to bring. I knew 
 that illness kept your eyes awake, and chose out 
 one. 'Tis clear, and still it puzzles me," said Seth. 
 
 " In metaphysics or philosophy ? " asked the 
 pastor. 
 
 ** Strictly, it belongs to neither. It is a question
 
 184 DO WN IV A RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 of expediency. With your leave, I will read from 
 a letter I have just received from Cousin Herbert." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; he wrote to me a week ago. 'T is strange 
 I had forgotten. The very thing for you, my boy. I 
 told him so," returned the pastor. 
 
 ** 'Tis easy to fall in with advice when it suits our 
 will. I'm glad to know you think it best. Much 
 as I wished, I dare not fully trust it to myself 'T is 
 hard to leave my mother with only Lydia to lean 
 upon." 
 
 " Your mother will miss you, boy ; but she is no 
 woman to cry out with pain because her child no 
 longer thrives on pap. The marble in the quarry 
 will avail the builder nothing. It must be taken out, 
 fitted and squared and polished to its place. Each 
 has his niche, and God expects he '11 fill it. What 
 says your mother? " 
 
 " She said it bravely, ' You must go.' But she 
 could not hide the breaking of her heart, the low, 
 stifled sob. I saw it all ; and had you said you 
 thought it best for me to stay, in sympathy for my 
 mother's loneliness, I could have yielded it." 
 
 " 'T is a sweet sorrow, after all, mothers are 
 doomed to bear. Manhood is heavier than thistle- 
 down, and every step it gains it has to fight ; and if 
 at last it conquers, 't is by right of principle, firm 
 and unyielding. Your cousin Herbert knows what 
 it is to struggle up through difficulties that would 
 have overcome a weaker, worldlier nature." 
 
 " My cousin Herbert is so far above me, I ha«'dlv
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 1 85 
 
 dare to hope to look upon the summit he will gain. 
 He has talent far beyond the generality." 
 
 " He has a pure principle of right within him. 
 Based on this firm foundation, he is sure to rise, 
 like some tall palm, a beacon and a guide," said the 
 pastor. 
 
 " Herbert is good. I owe him more than I can 
 ever pay," was Seth's reply. 
 
 " Selfishness is no part of his nature. He lives to 
 do for others, — swaying the public mind, not for his 
 own pet schemes, but to raise and make better those 
 with whom he has to do. The good such men do 
 lives after them. Did Herbert write you of our 
 summer friends ? " asked Mr. Hawley. 
 
 " You knew their father died a year ago ? " 
 
 " I heard as much." 
 
 "And their wealth vanished?" continued Seth. 
 
 " Mr. Parton wrote me of this," returned the pastor. 
 
 " They live in a small house. Daisy gives music 
 lessons, and Ellen is struggling to be of use." 
 
 **Mr. Delafieldleft sons?" questioned Mr. Hawley. 
 
 " Yes, two," answered Seth. 
 
 The tinkle of a bell caught the pastor's ear. 
 
 ** Mabel is awake. When do you propose to 
 leave ? " 
 
 " Within a month," returned Seth. 
 
 " God willing, I will see you soon again. Do 
 right. Live nobly, Seth. Manhood, like every other 
 gift of God, comes not by chance." 
 16*
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 EVIL PURPOSES AND PLANS. 
 
 IT was night : a heavy cloud of blackness shut the 
 world in, and ominous voices in tones of mut- 
 tered thunder, with long, deep gushes of electric 
 flame, caused stout hearts to tremble. The wind 
 swept through the deserted streets, and the fiends of 
 air seemed hurrying on to some grand carnival. 
 
 Not all deserted. Here and there a loiterer at 
 some festal board, or a poor staggering wTetch seek- 
 ing his cheerless home. Here, one creeping along 
 with stealthy tread, thankful for night and darkness 
 to conceal his murderous plans. On he presses 
 through by-ways and alleys, escaping corners where 
 the sentry w^alks, hugging the walls like some vile 
 reptile, starting at every sound. Dark and grim as 
 the night it loomed before him, — dark walls, dark 
 wings, and something on the top like a huge crown 
 of blackness — no light, no sound of life, the win- 
 dows closed and barred. A lightning glance from 
 out the blackened sky, and the poor wretch sank 
 back against the wall frightened as though it had 
 been the eye of God. Why was he there ? and how? 
 and his limbs trembled while his brain grew wild. 
 Should he go back, his life would be the forfeit of his 
 
 iS6
 
 D O WN VVA RD A ND UP VVA R D. 1 87 
 
 promise. Should he go on ? — cold damps stood on his 
 forehead, his limbs gave way, he groped along on the 
 mouldy pavement. There was a muffled tread, then 
 a whistle three times given, the bolts slipped back, 
 and through a crevice in the door he saw a dark 
 form enter. The light glancing outward thrilled 
 him. Had he been seen ? and, nerved with courage 
 born of his despair, he stood upon his feet; the 
 whistle three times three was repeated ; the door 
 opened, and another dark form entered. 
 
 " How now ! you are late coming. We began to 
 fear you had given us the slip," and the new comer 
 felt the hot breath of his interrogator, as he drew 
 him to the light and scanned his face closely. 
 
 "You have nothing to fear; I'm with you hand 
 in glove. But prudence is as good as valor. I could 
 not get away ; and but for this storm, I had not come 
 at all." 
 
 A muttered curse escaped the mustached lips, 
 and the dark eyes flashed. 
 
 " Look to it, if you prove false." 
 
 A clap of thunder shook the building to its foun- 
 dation, while the half dozen men seated around the 
 room pressed closer to their leader. 
 
 "Why this distrust?" and the youth shook him- 
 self from the strong grasp. " I have more to lose 
 than you have, if we fail. Your life is well-nigh spent 
 I have my youth, and the sweet memory of what it 
 was to me." 
 
 " That 's it ; that 's what I fear. Lapped as you 've 
 been in luxury, you '11 faint to soil your fingers with
 
 1 88 DO WN WA RD A ND UP IV A R D. " 
 
 the toil we know, and, creeping out when most 
 there 's actual need, give us the slip." 
 
 *'You make a grand mistake," and flinging off his 
 cap, he thrust his fingers through his hair. 
 
 "Teach me to make gold, and you will find no 
 better pupil," continued the youth, resolutely. 
 
 A demoniac laugh resounded through the room, 
 echoed in chorus by the bearded men and the wild 
 spirits without. 
 
 " He 's right ; make haste. Teach us all that. 
 Gold! gold! But stop! are we agreed? What we 
 make we share alike? and if — " 
 
 "No if's; we must succeed. Did I not tell you! 
 Just listen to the thunder. 'T is a good night to 
 work. Jardon and Stilling will keep watch, and 
 despair itself is not darker than these streets." 
 
 " Ho, Winston ! are you ready ? " 
 
 A light stroke upon an inner door disturbed for a 
 moment the death-like stillness of the room, but pro- 
 duced no other effect. He struck again louder, and 
 listened. There was a shuffling sound, a woman's 
 voice, and the door opened. 
 
 This room was not as long as the outer one, with 
 no side windows ; and if the sunlight was ever per- 
 mitted to enter, it must be through an opening above. 
 A large table stood on the middle of the floor, and 
 on this quantities of wire, skeleton keys, dies, gold 
 leaf, and delicate paper, with any quantity of coins 
 galvanized, and made to look like real specie. A 
 furnace filled with glowing coal stood on the hearth, 
 and over this the man Winston.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 189 
 
 "The fates are propitious to-night," said the youth, 
 who, from being suspected, felt that he must make an 
 effort to prove the honesty of his intentions. 
 
 " The fates ! why, boy, we make or mar our own 
 fate. The power 's in us : only have the grit. Just 
 look! what a lovely color. A bagful for each will 
 pay us well for this little job." 
 
 " That it will," responded the one who had been 
 spokesman in the outer room, and whom the men 
 called Crawford. 
 
 " What think you, Delafield ? Gold is not so hard 
 to make as many imagine," continued Winston. 
 
 "This is all YQry well," and the youth took up a 
 few pieces, twirled them in his fingers, and dropped 
 them on the table. 
 
 " If you could only give them the ring." 
 
 " You must give 'em that yourself If I stay shut 
 up here to make 'em, you've got to see that they go. 
 So many a day; and, mind you, the real thing must 
 come in at night." 
 
 "I'll do it; but the paper, you know, is a great 
 deal easier to get off Somehow, folks understand to 
 a hair when coin falls short." 
 
 " I never saw a prettier bit of paper than that five 
 hundred you drew the other night," said Crawford. 
 
 " And I was rid of it easily. There was a little 
 twinge as the man held it up, rubbing it between his 
 thumb and finger. I turned away, and tried to feel 
 indifferent ; but I tell you it was a great relief when 
 he pocketed it," answered Delafield.
 
 igO D O WN IV A A' n A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 "That's because you're a fresh hand. When 
 you 've been at it for a time, it will come easy," re- 
 turned Winston. 
 
 " Delafield knows little of the rough and tumble 
 of life," and Crawford slapped the young man famil- 
 iarly on the shoulder. 
 
 " The very reason that I am with you. You bet- 
 ter believe a robin dropped out of his nest feels the 
 ground cold and dreary. You cannot suppose that 
 he would scruple about means to get back again." 
 
 " Worse than that," joined in one of the men. 
 " Not alone to tumble out of the nest, but to have it 
 swung before him constantly. It 's enough to drive 
 a man to anything." 
 
 " Here, Madge ! bring us the grub," cried one. 
 " What the deuce of a turnout there is to-night ; it is 
 impossible to hear anything for the confounded 
 thunder. Madge ! Madge ! Where is she, Winston ? 
 I '11 be bound she was here when we entered." 
 
 *' If she was, she's too wise to let you set eyes 
 upon her. Open that little closet, and help yourself 
 It's a pity you can't find something else to do than 
 to guzzle down your throats, while I am broiling 
 over this fire." 
 
 " Here 's to your health and the beauties that you 
 deal in," and Crawford raised his glass. A tinkling 
 sound went round the table. 
 
 " Fill up ! fill up ! " cried another. 
 
 "Success to our undertaking," exclaimed a third, 
 and the glasses were lifted as before. 
 
 "Now to his grace for his agency in getting up
 
 DOWNWAJ^D AND UPWARD. I9I 
 
 such a storm," and another bumper was drained 
 easily. 
 
 " Enough for the present, gentlemen," and Win- 
 ston straightened himself. 
 
 " I have never seen neater work. It 's sure to suc- 
 ceed, and if it does" — while a fierce smile played 
 over the blackened face. 
 
 " As soon as we get enough, we must be off to 
 the distant cities. Perfect as it is, caution will be 
 necessary. To be discovered too soon would spoil 
 all," exclaimed Crawford. 
 
 "To be discovered at all," exclaimed Delafield. 
 
 " It 's plain enough to see that you are a raw hand. 
 With pockets full of the real stuff, we must be off for 
 Europe, Madagascar, or somewhere else, just for a 
 few years, you know, and then back to do as we will. 
 Only have a heart, boy, and it will all conie back to 
 you," 
 
 There was a fiendish smile on Winston's lips and a 
 wild light in his eyes. Years of playing bopeep be- 
 tween government officials, and his own questionable 
 acts, had rendered him cautious ; and still did he 
 never hesitate, when occasion offered, to carry out 
 his plans, assuring himself that it was practical and 
 sure to succeed. A philosopher in one sense. True, 
 the law had pounced upon him more than once, 
 curbing his ambition for a specified time : he bore it 
 patiently, and when the restraint was removed, tried 
 again, sure, if he kept on, of final success. The fur- 
 nace glow was failing and the battery was no longer 
 in motion : some of the men were dozing in chairs,
 
 192 DOIVNIVARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 and others were seated on the table, while Winston 
 and Crawford planned. 
 
 " No two must be seen together. And if, by- 
 chance, it should happen, let there be no word or 
 look of recognition." 
 
 " There is another thing of more consequence to 
 our future," said Crawford. ** It is possible that, in 
 passing money, one may be discovered. Let us bind 
 ourselves by an oath to suffer alone, if need be ; but 
 on no account to betray one another. In this way 
 the money making can still go on, and the hounds 
 set to scent us out none the wiser." 
 
 "Another bottle!" cried Winston; and all pledged 
 themselves to act with prudence, and, if discovered, 
 to bear the burden as individuals ; and never, by 
 word or look, to recognize each other in the presence 
 of a third party. 
 
 In the weird light, the haggard faces, shaggy eye- 
 brows, and tangled mass of coal-black hair con- 
 trasted strongly with the well-turned head and high, 
 white forehead of young Delafield, — like fiends 
 escaped from dark despair, their stake a soul. 
 
 " Hark ! there's a sound," and Winston's quick ear 
 had caught at something in the street. 
 
 " Quick, men, to the side door! " 
 
 " No occasion for alarm," and Jordan entered. 
 
 "The storm is spent, and day begins to break. 
 It 's time to fill our pockets and be off." 
 
 " You are sure there 's no one at the door ? " ques- 
 tioned Winston.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. I93 
 
 "Sure, your honor; and now be generous. To 
 wait is quite as honorable as to work." 
 
 " Cloaking yourself with honor ! Well, well ; there 's 
 no denying honor is what we make it." And Win- 
 ston laughed, and passed the bottle to his neighbor's 
 lips. 
 
 ''Where's Stilling? He has earned the right to 
 wet his throat." 
 
 " Make haste ; the daylight will be here ! " roared 
 Crawford. 
 
 " Now let the police come. There's nothing but a 
 furnace of spent coal, a woman's gown and shawl. 
 All is not gold that glitters. But what difference, if 
 the people find not their mistake ? With well-filled 
 pockets, let us do our best ; and as the clock strikes 
 twelve at night, meet here again." And Winston 
 pulled his hat over his bloodshot eyes. 
 
 The dawn was breaking when Jay Delafield sought 
 his room. Noiseless, as he thought, his steps did 
 not escape his mother's ear, touching her heart with 
 a keen sense of pain. 
 
 i; N
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE BURDEN OF A GREAT SORROW. 
 
 SHRILL November winds were rushing up the 
 street, whirHng the dust in clouds, and dancing 
 dead leaves against the window-panes. A dreary 
 homesickness was in the air; the birds forgot to 
 sing, balancing themselves, and drawing up their feet 
 beneath their wings. Dogs and men were walking 
 in the streets ; no useless jostling after the sunny 
 side. Conflict without and a hard warfare within, 
 the good and evil forces all called out. 
 
 Drawing her chair still closer to the grate, Mrs. 
 Delafield stitched with redoubled ardor. Ellen was 
 getting to be so tall; and the mother was fashioning 
 a dress Agnes had laid aside. It was a new task, 
 and her fingers trembled. Suddenly she stopped, 
 and the tears rained down her pallid face. Through 
 all the summer days she had borne the change brave- 
 ly. Leaving her home had cost her fewer pangs 
 than the sad thought that her children had outgrown 
 their love, wandering away, and making sad mis- 
 takes. Stripped of the glittering forms that bound 
 her to the life that others knew, the scales had fallen 
 from her eyes. She saw that principle must be the 
 
 194
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. I95 
 
 ground-work of each act, and she felt the need of 
 something on which to fix her hopes more lasting 
 than she had ever known. 
 
 A month ago Agnes was with her. She came to 
 stay, she said. A week had barely passed when her 
 trunks were packed. 
 
 " Such little, pent-up rooms! " exclaimed the child. 
 " I do not believe it was so bad as you were led to 
 think ; and if it was, we might have kept the house. 
 My father's creditors were no better than other 
 men." 
 
 " But your father was," returned the mother. 
 
 " I don't believe he lost it all ; I never will !" said 
 Agnes. 
 
 " His bills were heavy ; heavier than you know. 
 It was the burden of his life for months before he 
 died," was the trembling response. 
 
 *' A peg convenient on which to hang his whims. 
 We spent too much," said Agnes, in a pettish tone. 
 
 *' Your father, child, deserved your warmest love. 
 His error was in loving all too much." 
 
 Sitting in the shadowy light, it all came back to 
 the mother's heart. Agnes had gone. Cyrus had 
 quarrelled with a fellow-clerk, and, joining a band of 
 travelling play-actors, had left the town. 
 
 Light steps and pleasant voices were in the hall. 
 "You have been lonely, mother," and a small arm 
 stole around the mother's neck, a kiss was on her 
 forehead. 
 
 *' A little tired, perhaps," and there was a sense of 
 sorrow in the words that touched Ellen's heart.
 
 196 DOWNWA RD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " We waited for Jay," and Daisy stood on the 
 rug, and held her hands to the cheerful blaze. 
 
 " It has been a chilly day; but, for some reason, I 
 feel better than for weeks before, I am in love with 
 stormy days and black, tempestuous nights. I can 
 work better," and Jay rubbed his hands, and looked 
 with a pleasant smile upon the inmates of the little 
 room. 
 
 " And now, Barbara, let us have tea," said Daisy, 
 as the small maiden placed the lamp, and put fresh 
 coal upon the grate. 
 
 " I was out on an errand, miss, or it would have 
 looked cheerfuUer when you came in." 
 
 ** We will make it cheerful now, Barbara," and 
 Daisy's voice was gushing with the joy of having 
 Jay at home. With a quick eye, she saw the struggle 
 in the mother's heart, and branching off into what 
 she had seen and heard, she soon won both smiles 
 and laughter. 
 
 At the tea-table, Jay was unusually lively, his 
 words sparkling with wit and humor. It was a new 
 phase, and the mother's heart vibrated between 
 fear and hope. Through the long summer days he 
 had been fitful and melancholy, at times endeavoring 
 to settle himself to business, determined to over- 
 come the thirst for drink; the next, unnerved and 
 disquieted, by reason of drudgery that confined 
 him when others were free to come and go as they 
 pleased. 
 
 " I have a plan by which I can get it all back," he
 
 L> O WN WARD A ND UP WA RD. I97 
 
 said to Ellen, as a name was spoken that recalled the 
 past. 
 
 '' How is that ? " asked Mrs. Delafield. " You are 
 not speculating, Jay?" 
 
 *' Would that be so very dreadful, mother ? " and a 
 red flush crept up to Jay's white brow. 
 
 " Your father never favored it. Especially if one 
 has limited capital." 
 
 "The very one I should think to try," returned 
 Jay. 
 
 i ** Staking his all, and, if he loses, losing all. 
 Honest gains are slow. Be satisfied with these, my 
 son." 
 
 " I am sure my gains are slow enough," and a wild 
 laugh resounded through the room. 
 
 '* You have not told us of your plan," continued 
 Mrs. Delafield. 
 
 " Oh, it is as Daisy says, — to keep to work. She is 
 to be a prima donna some day; go to Germany and 
 give concerts ; and I expect to get piles of gold, and 
 not only buy back what we have lost, but as much 
 more." 
 
 * " Would n't it be a fine thing if we could make 
 gold," exclaimed Ellen. " I would not only have 
 some for myself, but there are plenty of others who 
 need it as much as I do." 
 
 " I hardly know what we need more than we have. 
 If there is not as much silver and glass as there 
 used to be, the bread is just as white, and the butter 
 equally good," said Daisy, merrily. 
 17*
 
 198 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " Bread and butter do not satisfy," said Jay. " It 
 is one thing never to have, and another thing to do 
 without." 
 
 " You mean by that, to one who had never had 
 better, this small home would be beautiful ? " asked 
 Daisy. 
 
 " Certainly. Habits and customs of life make all 
 the difference. We like, and must have, what we have 
 been accustomed to, or we are unhappy," replied 
 Jay. 
 
 '* Our habits may have been wrong, our tastes not 
 in keeping. There comes a time when these are to 
 be corrected. It may be felt for a season, but the 
 very struggle to overcome more than repays us in 
 the strength we gain," said Mrs. Delafield. 
 
 " I have not realized much strength yet, and I have 
 tried," was Jay's reply. 
 
 '* Oaks do not grow in a day. A strong, perma- 
 nent growth is almost imperceptible," rejoined Mrs. 
 Delafield. 
 
 " I trust mine will be permanent, for I can hardly 
 see it," and Jay pushed back his chair. " You will 
 excuse me. I have two or three engagements, 
 and to be back in any kind of season, I must hurry 
 away." 
 
 "Oh, no. Jay; stay with us," and Ellen tried to 
 detain her brother. 
 
 "Yes, Jay; it is a longtime since we have had 
 any music. I long to hear your voice again," and 
 Daisy hastened to help Barbara with the table. 
 
 " Stay, my son, if possible. I hardly know why,
 
 D WN WA RD A ND UP WA RD. 199 
 
 but I have been sad to-day; and music, as Daisy says,- 
 will help us all." 
 
 *' I have promised to be at three places. ' You see 
 that I am getting to be a business man." 
 
 " When Cyrus was here, I did not so much mind 
 if one was away; but now — " and Mrs. Delafield 
 was fairly weeping. 
 
 " Don't fret over it, mother. When I get every- 
 thing arranged, I will be as steady as you can ask," 
 and Jay leaned over his mother's chair and kissed 
 the pale cheeks tenderly. 
 
 With all his faults. Jay was kind and affection- 
 ate. He would not wantonly have injured a worm ; 
 but he loved to indulge himself, and he despised re- 
 straint. To confine himself to the dull round of 
 every-day life was intolerable. In a word. Jay lacked 
 moral principle. 
 
 Persuasion did no good; and as the door closed on 
 
 the young man, keen anguish stung the mother's 
 
 heart. What were his engagements ? What plans 
 
 had he? How did he think to realize a fortune? 
 
 , Where had he gone ? 
 
 "Ellen is to read, and you are to listen," Daisy 
 said, playfully, to Mrs. Delafield. 
 
 "And what is your part? " asked the mother. 
 
 " I am to finish this dress," taking the work on 
 which Mrs. Delafield had been employed. 
 
 "I will knit," replied the mother. "And as for 
 the dress, I fear you cannot do it." 
 
 " Let me try, please," and there was vivacity in
 
 200 DOWN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 Daisy's voice, that helped materially to free the 
 brain from shadowy forebodings. 
 
 When Ellen laid aside her book, the dress was done. 
 
 " Now for a little music," and Daisy shook out the 
 dress, and held it up to Ellen. 
 
 " There is one drawback to lesson giving, and that 
 is a gradual decrease in enthusiasm, at least I find it 
 so in my case. Listening to pupils, correcting mis- 
 takes, and constantly saying ' mind your time, and 
 count one, two, three,' is sure to disgust the musical 
 goddess, and the ear is no longer caught and the 
 heart entertained with airs of angelic sweetness," said 
 Daisy. 
 
 " Give us old songs," said Mrs. Delafield. 
 
 Daisy was in one of her musical moods, her voice 
 rightly keyed, with just enough sadness in her heart 
 to give it that peculiar tone, sure to touch and thrill 
 a soul that has suffered. Good music is always sad, — 
 blending sorrow and joy, mingling and melting, and 
 running into a perpetual plaint for something higher, 
 holier, than we find on earth. 
 
 To Mrs. Delafield's sick heart it was a comfort ; 
 and leaning her head against her chair, she listened 
 to the sweet inspiration, now low, sweet, plaintive, 
 then louder, bolder, lifting the soul up and filling it 
 with rest. 
 
 A low rap at the parlor-door. 
 
 " I am just in time," and Herbert Lyndsey entered. 
 
 " You are very welcome," as Mrs. Delafield rose 
 to receive him. " One of our petite soirees, with 
 only myself for listener."
 
 D O WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 201 
 
 "A select audience. Allow me to join you," was 
 the pleasant reply. 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Lyndsey, we are in want of a tenor; 
 you will not refuse ? " and Daisy turned to the in- 
 strument. 
 
 " In that case we shall bring down the house. As 
 yet, we have not had a single bravo/' remarked 
 Ellen. 
 
 " I had forgotten," and Mrs. Delafield was laugh- 
 ing now, '' that applause inspires and invigorates the 
 artiste. You should have said to me, as Sir Godfrey 
 said to the little poet of Twickenham, 'You know I 
 can't do as well as I should, unless you praise me.' 
 Go on ; I promise the bravos." 
 
 Mr. Lyndsey knew how to sing, just as he knew 
 how to read and how to study. Endowed with a 
 voice, he had cultivated it, making it the messenger 
 of his thought. 
 
 Old songs Mrs. Delafield had requested; and still 
 was she conscious of that mystic power, — each strain 
 only the echo of a voice heard long ago, visions of 
 what had been, and sleeping memories awakened 
 by every song they sang. Touchingly tender, and 
 her eyes grow misty ; — the very song that she used 
 to sing ; her husband was fond of it. Was it strange 
 that she forgot the bravos, forgot everything — save 
 what had been ? 
 
 " I have brought you something quite new. You 
 must try it," and Mr. Lyndsey unrolled a sheet of 
 music. " I heard it once, and thought it beautiful," 
 as he placed it on the stand.
 
 202 D O WN WA R D A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 ** I can hardly hope to please where another has 
 charmed," and Daisy ran her fingers over the keys. 
 
 ** I am one to enjoy the second act better than 
 the first," Mr. Lyndsey replied, as he turned the 
 page 
 
 The clock was striking in the church-tower as the 
 music ceased. 
 
 " I have one regret," was said naively, as Daisy left 
 the piano, and her guest seated himself with the au- 
 dience. " It is too late for my budget of news." 
 
 " I can only say that I have been to Tipton, saw 
 I\Irs. White, and Seth, and Lydia, and good Mr. 
 Hawley. On leaving, they freighted me with so 
 much love and esteem for certain young ladies of my 
 acquaintance, that I was forced to throw aside the 
 weight before I could return to business," returned 
 Mr. Lyndsey. 
 
 " I am glad to hear from them. And Seth is still 
 at home?" and Ellen ran on with questions, while 
 Daisy's face grew white in listening. 
 
 " Seth is no longer at home. He is now at the 
 Belden Institute, teaching and studying in the place 
 of working and studying, as he has been doing, 
 Lydia bids fair to make a beautiful woman. I used to 
 think her plain ; she has improved astonishingly," 
 continued Mr. Lyndsey. 
 
 "Did you spend any time with Mr. Hawley? 
 Did he speak of his sister?" questioned Daisy. 
 
 "I spent an hour with Mr. Hawley. He has grown 
 old rapidly within the last year. Expressed himself 
 as quite well, however. His sister has been very ill.
 
 D OWNWARD AND UPWARD. 203 
 
 She is now better, and there are intervals when she 
 is perfectly herself," was the reply. 
 
 Try as she would, Daisy could not keep back the 
 tears; she had unconsciously thought so much of 
 the woman, the sad, pale face continually rising up 
 before her. 
 
 Mr. Lyndsey had gone, and, clinging to each 
 other, the three sat looking into the spent fire. It 
 was pleasant to be remembered by one whom they 
 used to know, — one who did not pass them by be- 
 cause they no longer had the means to live expen- 
 sively. Silent and still, the fading embers reproduced 
 pictures in keeping with the thoughts of each. In- 
 stinctively, Mrs. Delafield mused of Jay and Cyrus. 
 Where were they? and what doing ? She remembers 
 Seth White. A life of toil had been his from the 
 cradle ; gradually he was mounting upward. Never 
 an idle moment had he known, never a pleasure, — 
 as Cyrus would call it, climbing the cold, hard stairs 
 of necessity. 
 
 Mrs. Delafield saw this in the dying fire. She did 
 not always see it. Daisy and Ellen saw ; but they 
 did not say what. Let it be as it would, each knew 
 that she would be happier for this evening.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BRAVING THE LAW. 
 
 IT was the last of the sweet Indian summer days ; 
 a silvery haze, deepening to purple gloom, floated 
 midway between the earth and sky. Languor was 
 in the air; the butterfly, with curiously-mottled wings 
 of black and gold, poised dreamily, brushing the 
 glittering dust against the leafless stems. The din 
 of labor and the roll of wheels was tempered to a 
 soft and mellow sound, and the street-goers gliding 
 by seemed as unreal as the broken fragments of a 
 dream. As the sun went down, a lustrous gleam 
 shot through the purple curtain, changing it to a 
 cloth of gold. 
 
 No sound disturbed the silence of the room where 
 Daisy, by the low window, sat and dreamed. All 
 day her lessons had been given, her pupils tasking 
 her time, ** one, two, three," clear and distinct. 
 Another day is added to the list, and for a few mo- 
 ments she is free to tangle her brain in " idle vaga- 
 ries." Be it so ; it rests her for to-morrow's work. 
 Ellen has gone to Mrs. Clayton's. Grant is in Dr. 
 Landseer's office. The new home is farther from 
 the doctor's residence ; they do not see him as often 
 as they did. And to-day, tempted by the untold 
 
 204
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 20$ 
 
 beauty everywhere afloat, he has prevailed upon 
 Mrs. Delafield to join him in a ride, 
 
 "The air will do you good; and I can talk and 
 drive, and so save time ; " and Mrs. Delafield, know- 
 ing him for a friend, went gladly; and thus, save 
 Barbara, busy with the thought of the good supper 
 she will get, Daisy is by herself Such hours have 
 not been frequent; busied from morning until night, 
 there has been little time for idleness. The mood is 
 on her now, and, leaning her head upon the window- 
 sill, she feels the play of the soft air on brow and 
 cheek, tangling the meshes of her hair till she almost 
 fancies it is the touch of human fingers. Once more 
 she sees the small dress, the tiny pair of half-worn 
 shoes. Mr. Hawley has never told her how they 
 were received. " Thanks for the package " was all 
 he said. She knew not why, and still she had looked 
 for more. There was no resemblance. Mrs. Lisle's 
 sorrow made her think of what her own mother's 
 must have been. It was a strange idea, no doubt ; 
 but, gathering up the broken threads let fall by Mr. 
 Delafield years ago, and still more by the words 
 flung out when children at their play, she had never 
 thought of her mother as being dead. She could not 
 now. Somewhere in the world there was a heart 
 that beat and throbbed under a great loss — a heart 
 that lived and loved and prayed for her. It was this 
 hope, as well as knowing that He doeth well, that 
 kept her life in poise. The seed sown by a faithful 
 teacher had taken root ; and, although of slow 
 growth, as usual with unsheltered plants, there were 
 18
 
 206 D O WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 Still vitality and bloom. " He knoweth the path, and 
 His hand will guide;" and, insensibly, she thought 
 of the evening at school, when, sitting in her room, 
 the teacher spoke of her own youthful experience : 
 " I know what it is to hunger for a mother's love. 
 My father was a man devoted to business. He had 
 not time to think of me, farther than to provide 
 for my outward need. When very young, I was 
 placed at school, and when I left it as a pupil, it was 
 only to- take upon myself the office of teacher. Led 
 by an irresistible hand, in a way not of my, own 
 choosing, and dependent at every step for guidance, 
 often has it been sinuous, and its corners and angles 
 have been perplexing. Sometimes on the mountain 
 top, then treading the valley. It has ever been nar- 
 row, skirted on each side with thorn hedges, sting- 
 ing my flesh if I turned wearily. Never have I been 
 able to see but one step at a time, and when that was 
 taken light was given for another. Of necessity, my 
 steps have been slow, giving me time to think and 
 to ask for needful direction. Sometimes, urged for- 
 ward by an irresistible force, I have tried to obey, 
 raising my foot and setting it down, led by the voice, 
 and finding in every case something to lean upon. 
 Thus have I made my way ; never able to do more 
 than present duty, leaning more and more upon my 
 guide. This you must do." With the play of the 
 wind upon her cheek, Daisy almost feels it is her 
 teacher's kiss. " Had I foreseen the roughness of 
 the way, I should have been dismayed, and my cour- 
 age would have failed," and thus, learning wisdom
 
 D O WNWA RD A ND UP WARD. 20/ 
 
 from the experience of another, the faint heart was 
 strengthened. 
 
 The shadows were deepening and the air grew 
 chill. Daisy lifted her head and closed the window, 
 drawing the curtain tightly. 
 
 Through the half light, Daisy did not see that 
 some one entered the door. A long, deep sigh, and 
 she turned to see Jay standing on the rug before the 
 fire. 
 
 " Are you ill ? Pray tell me what has happened ? " 
 asked Daisy, as she looked into the white face. 
 
 " Hush ! they are after me. I must go as soon as 
 it is quite dark," whispered Jay. 
 
 A terrible suspicion crossed her mind. Could it 
 be that Jay -was again suffering the horrors that he 
 had before known ? She pressed very near him. No; 
 it must be something else. 
 
 " Tell me. Jay, what has happened ? " 
 
 '' To tell the truth, I have been making gold. A 
 few days since I had the ill fortune to pass it to a 
 man who knew the difference, and he is after me. 
 I could not bear to work day after day: I determined 
 to have it back. They told me of a plan that others 
 had tried and made their thousands," answered Jay. 
 
 This was the plan; and by coining and passing a 
 spurious article. Jay hoped to get all back, as he 
 said. 
 
 A cold shudder passed over Daisy's face, and her 
 limbs trembled. 
 
 *' And if they find you, Jay ? " 
 
 " Imprisonment, of course. But I will not be taken.
 
 208 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 I will die first. You must secrete me. Quick, Daisy ! 
 I hear voices. They are here ! " 
 
 " Only Barbara that I hear," and Daisy made an 
 effort to speak calmly. 
 
 " But she must not see me. If she is questioned, 
 she must know nothing," continued Jay. 
 
 " Is there no other way. Is it really as you say? " 
 
 " It is indeed, Daisy. The other day I passed a 
 five-hundred-dollar bill. It was not detected ; but 
 the small coin will bring it out. If I can escape be- 
 fore they have time to look it up, well ; if not, I 
 shall be imprisoned." 
 
 " O Jay, it will kill your mother ! " exclaimed 
 Daisy. 
 
 A sigh broke over the quivering lips. 
 
 " It was as much on her account as on my own 
 that I did it. I could not bear to see her give up 
 everything to which she had been accustomed. I 
 felt it would be a proud moment when I could rein- 
 state her in the old home, and you and Ellen. It 
 has been a comfort to me through all these weeks, 
 and now it's ended," said Jay, despairingly. 
 
 Pity filled Daisy's heart. What would she not 
 give at that moment to save him from the stain of 
 sin and wrong. His white face and trembling 
 voice : she could forgive him ; but the law would 
 not. 
 
 There was a sound of wheels, and Dr. Landseer's 
 buggy was at the door. 
 
 " It is your mother. The doctor will not come in," 
 Daisy said.
 
 IJOW\'WARD AND UPWARD. 209 
 
 " I cannot see her. Let me go, Di." 
 
 "Up to my room, and turn the key: I will keep 
 watch," answered Daisy. 
 
 " Do not tell mother. Let her sleep one night in 
 peace. And Ellen — no. I must not see her," re- 
 turned Jay. 
 
 Jay had barely left the room as Mrs. Delafield en- 
 tered. Dr. Landseer did not come in. Fortunately, it 
 was too dark for Mrs. Delafield to see the expression 
 of Daisy's face, and with accustomed tact she began 
 questioning of the ride, thereby gi^^ing herself time 
 to recover from the effect of Jay's sudden visit. 
 
 When Ellen returned. Grant Clayton was with her. 
 With effort Daisy could command herself, while her 
 flushed cheeks and glistening eyes drew the attention 
 of the young student. 
 
 ** No, not ill," she said, in answer to his kind in- 
 quiry. " I have been giving lessons all day ; a little 
 tired, perhaps." 
 
 "You confine yourself too closely. I will propose 
 that Dr. Landseer take you out occasionally." 
 
 ** I have not much spare time," was said vaguely. 
 
 It was over. Grant had gone ; tears rolled down 
 Daisy's face. She knew that he had little time, and 
 visits were not of everyday occurrence. She was 
 afraid that he felt wounded. He could not under- 
 stand how she suffered. 
 
 Twice Barbara had rung the bell. Mrs. Delafield 
 would not take supper till Jay came. Daisy endeav- 
 ored to look unconcerned. All at once she called 
 to mind that Jay had said in the morning that he 
 18* O
 
 210 £> O IFA'JVAJ^n AND UPWARD. 
 
 might not return until late at night. The mother's 
 face lost the cheerful look her ride had called forth ; 
 mechanically she seated herself at the tea-table. 
 There were few words, an unusual restraint seemed 
 to be upon each. 
 
 After tea, Mrs. Delafield remarked : 
 
 "' The doctor has heard from Cyrus. He says the 
 boy has the talent for an actor. I 'm sorry : still, if 
 he can do this well, it will be better than to do some- 
 thing else ill. Certainly I should not have chosen 
 the profession, had it been left to me. As it is, I 
 shall not oppose him. I only wish he would return. 
 Study is needful ; he might do that with us. The 
 doctor says I had best write to him. As he left sud- 
 denly, he may think we blame him. I will write to- 
 morrow, and tell him that I want him to come home. 
 You could help him if he wants to be an actor, could 
 you not? There must be training and rehearsals." 
 
 There was a choking in Daisy's throat. She tried 
 to answer ; then whispering to Ellen, " Interest your 
 mother, I must be absent for a half hour," she be- 
 gan to help Barbara to remove the tea things to the 
 kitchen-table ; then filling a small waiter, she disap- 
 peared up the back stairs. 
 
 " Had it been any one else, I should not have 
 waited; but I was sure that you would come. Does 
 mother know that I am here ? " asked Jay. 
 
 '' Your mother still expects that you will come. 
 O Jay! how can I tell her? Here is your supper; 
 let me see you eat it," said Daisy, in a choking voice 
 
 " I cannot, Di ; I am not in the least hungry."
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 211 
 
 " But you will be. No knowing when — " and the 
 tears were running over Daisy's face. 
 
 " I know; but I can't, Di. It is time for me to go. 
 Tell mother I should n't have done it, if I had not 
 thought to make her more comfortable." 
 
 ** Your mother wants to see you a good, honest 
 man, Jay." 
 
 " And this was not honest, you mean to say," and 
 a bitter smile broke over the pale face. 
 
 " Honesty has nothing to fear. Jay." 
 
 " That is true, Di ; and I fear being caught and 
 cooped up for a few years. Good-by ; bad as I am, 
 you will think of me sometimes?" and he seized 
 Daisy's hand and covered it with kisses. 
 
 " I am your sister. Jay ; kiss me good-by," and 
 Daisy held up her tear-wet face. 
 
 *' Here 's another for mother and Ellen. If I 
 escape — " and the poor youth covered his face 
 with his hands. 
 
 "You will be a good man. Jay; you will never 
 again do anything the least bit wrong? " 
 
 " It does not seem now that I will," was the 
 choking reply. 
 
 " I will tell your mother that you are to be a good 
 man ; it will comfort her," continued Daisy. 
 
 ** Tell her anything to comfort her, and I will 
 try,*' said Jay, uncovering his face. 
 
 Taking a small bundle in his hand. Jay went down 
 the narrow stairs, and out into the darkness. 
 
 Falling on her knees, Daisy wept and prayed. She
 
 212 DO WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 was not conscious oi the time. Suddenly, she felt 
 Barbara's hand on her arm. 
 
 " Do you know where Jay is ? " was whispered in 
 a hoarse voice. 
 
 "Jay! Jay! he went out this morning," and the 
 half-bewildered girl stared at Barbara. 
 
 " What do you want of him ? " asked Daisy. ^ 
 
 " I have just been to the grocery, and, coming out, 
 I heard them say Jay had been counterfeiting, and 
 that he would be arrested." 
 
 ** Hush ! hush ! Barbara ; there is some mistake. 
 Don't breathe a word of this." 
 
 *' I thought perhaps, if there was danger, you could 
 save him," Barbara replied. 
 
 ** You did perfectly right to come and tell me," 
 said Daisy, recovering herself, and seeing that Barbara 
 looked troubled. " We must know more about it 
 before we repeat such news to Mrs. Delafield and 
 Ellen." 
 
 Shaking off her sorrow, Daisy bathed her eyes, 
 and went down. Ellen was engaged with her book, 
 " Life for a Life." 
 
 " I am sorry your head is so bad ; I have been 
 looking every moment to see you enter. Ellen de- 
 serv^es a better listener than I am," said Mrs. Dela- 
 field to Daisy. 
 
 *' My head does ache badly, and, if you please, I 
 will retire early," was the calm reply. 
 
 " You had better, and let Ellen or Barbara bathe 
 it for you. I will sit here for Jay," returned Mrs. 
 Delafield.
 
 VOIVNWARD AND UPWARD, 213 
 
 ** I am afraid that he will not be in till late. Will 
 it not be prudent for you to retire also ? " asked Daisy. 
 
 ** It seems to me that I must see him before I 
 sleep. I want to tell him what Dr. Landseer says 
 of Cyrus." 
 
 " He is detained so often, and he may be to-night," 
 plead Daisy. 
 
 ** It may be best to wait till morning; and, still, I 
 feel that I could sleep better, could I only see him," 
 answered the mother. 
 
 Alas ! for the little deceit, the poor mother would 
 not sleep to-night, longing to see this son that would 
 not come, perchance would never come again. 
 
 " I cannot do otherwise ; and, if wrong, may I be 
 forgiven," murmured Daisy. 
 
 Leaving everything as if she expected Jay to 
 enter, Mrs. Delafield was persuaded to go to her 
 room. Daisy and Ellen entered their own. For 
 years they had occupied the same chamber. There 
 was no concealment between them. Closing the 
 door, Ellen threw her arms about Daisy's neck, and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " Tell me, I beg of you, what has happened to 
 Jay." 
 
 " What leads you to think that anything has hap- 
 pened to him ? " 
 
 '' Oh, Daisy ! do not keep it from me. I know it 
 by your face. There is something terrible. Has he 
 been here to-night?" 
 
 " Yes. Jay has been here, and he has gone. I 
 could not tell his mother."
 
 214 DO WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 " Gone ! Where ? " exclaimed Ellen. 
 
 " Counterfeiting money has been traced to him ; 
 the officers are on the watch : if he does not elude 
 them, he will be arrested, and probably imprisoned." 
 
 " Oh, Di! it is n't possible ! " and Ellen was weep- 
 ing bitterly. " What can we do for him ? " 
 
 " There is nothing that we can do. I half suspect 
 the officers will be here to-night. If we can delay 
 pursuit for a day or two, that will be all that is left to 
 us," was the trembling answer. 
 
 *' Do you remember, Di, I said, only a few even- 
 ings since, how nice it would be could we only make 
 gold ? I did not think it would come back to me in 
 a way like this," murmured Ellen. 
 
 " This was the plan that Jay has talked so much 
 about," continued Daisy. 
 
 " It will kill mother. She has failed so much since 
 Cyrus left ; and to-night it seemed to me that I never 
 saw her so anxious to see Jay," responded Ellen. 
 
 Grief was too deep for words ; and sitting with 
 their arms twined around each other's neck, the night 
 passed. 
 
 " I cannot sleep," Ellen answered, as Daisy urged 
 her to try and rest. '' I shall never sleep again. 
 What if they find Jay ? " 
 
 " Let us hope that he will escape ; and, if he does, 
 he said that he^ would try to make a good man," and 
 Daisy tried to speak encouragingly. 
 
 " At the best, he cannot be with us any more," said 
 Ellen.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 215 
 
 The dawn was breaking. Sleep overpowered them; 
 and when they awoke the sun was shining, 
 
 " Breakfast is ready," said Barbara, surprised to 
 find the two girls dressed, and the bed not tumbled. 
 
 •'* Make no remarks as you go down," said Daisy. 
 ** We will follow you directly." 
 
 At the breakfast-table Mrs, Delafield asked for Jay, 
 and even sent Barbara to his room. Daisy antici- 
 pated this, and had locked the door, taking the key. 
 
 " The door is locked," Barbara said, on coming 
 down. 
 
 *' Poor boy, I suppose he is tired. He has been 
 steadier of late. I begin to hope he will yet make 
 a business man. If he only does," said the mother. 
 
 As the day advanced, two policemen called at the 
 door and asked to see Mr. Delafield, 
 
 " It is not his custom to come in before dark," 
 answered Daisy. " If you can call at nine, per- 
 haps." 
 
 They turned abruptly. She did not think to de- 
 ceive them; she only wished to give Jay the advan- 
 tage of a few hours in advance. Before night it was 
 noised abroad. Jay's place of business was visited. 
 He was not there. Mrs. Delafield took the alarm. 
 Daisy felt that it would be a mercy, and as gently as 
 possible she told her all. There were no tears. She 
 did not even cry out; but there was a look of de- 
 spair on her face that told the iron had entered into 
 her soul. 
 
 Morning held them in suspense. Had Jay es- 
 caped, or was he confined in a felon's cell? Eagerly
 
 2 1 6 DO IVN IV A RD A ND UP IV A R D. 
 
 Daisy seized the morning paper, and ran over the 
 items of the day. 
 
 ** Last night the police succeeded in breaking up 
 the haunt of noted counterfeiters ; three of those 
 arrested are old offenders. Suspicion rests on sev- 
 eral others, who are still at large." 
 
 "Old offenders!" Of course Jay is not one; he is 
 still at large. And her heart was lightened. " Oh ! 
 if he escapes, the memory of this will make him a 
 better man. It will be a warning, a safeguard for 
 the future." She could not tell Mrs. Delafield ; but, 
 leaving the paper where she was sure that it would' 
 be read, Daisy turned to her lessons. 
 
 All day a pale, shadowy woman went in and out 
 of the small rooms, restless and sad. A mother 
 mourning the loss of children — the sharp tooth of 
 anguish eating into her heart. She had made a 
 mistake, and the thought tortured her. From her 
 own standpoint she could not deny that it had been 
 hard to feel herself like some worthless thing left 
 on the rocks by the retreating tide. It had been 
 hard for Jay to battle with temptation ; and the 
 mother forgets every thing else in thinking how 
 much he suffered. 
 
 Up and down the room she walked. Here was the 
 remnant of a letter, and there a cap and coat; ten- 
 derly she stooped to raise it, letting her fingers fall 
 caressingly. It had pressed the head of her dear 
 boy, and on that account was invested with a sort of 
 sacredness. Next she opened the drawers. Jay 
 had a woman's sense of order about his wardrobe.
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 21/ 
 
 It was all there, and he was gone. Faintness crept 
 over her, and, trembling like some guilty thing, she 
 groped her way back to her room. 
 
 " O God, have pity ! Spare my child ! " 
 
 It was a mother's prayer, and the great Father 
 heard. Once more the head was bowed : '' For 
 Christ's sake." 
 
 Night found them grouped around the parlor-fire, 
 with faces rigid and white. In vain Barbara puzzled 
 her head to tempt the appetite with something new. 
 It seemed a mockery, — the cheerful room and bounti- 
 ful supply, — while Jay was cold and hungry, a wan- 
 derer like Cain. 
 
 A step was in the hall, and Mr. Parton entered. 
 Sorrow is lightened by sharing with another, and 
 a friend is proved in adversity. 
 
 Up to this time, it was clear that Jay was not ar- 
 rested. There was no proof, perhaps. The leaders 
 were secured. Jay was young ; and there was 
 hope that this would prove a lesson — punishment 
 enough. There was no reply, while the lips moved. 
 The good man saw, and did his best to comfort. 
 ** In every life there are turning-points," and this 
 was one so sharp and terrible he surely would re- 
 member. 
 
 " Too late I see that love of right is a principle to 
 be cultivated from the germ — not a bud to be 
 grafted on a half-grown tree," said the mother, with 
 effort. 
 
 '* Mistakes are not to be mourned over to the loss 
 of present good. Way-marks they well may be to 
 -9
 
 2l8 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 guide our future steps. Straying from the path, 
 there is no time when we may not return ; and, if 
 we ask, there stands One ever ready to point us to 
 the way," said Mr. Parton. 
 
 " Is there not such a thing as going too far ? " 
 asked the mother. 
 
 " Can Jay go so far that you will not be glad to see 
 him return ? " 
 
 " Jay has done wrong, but I cannot love him less. 
 I would gladly give up my life to have him back, 
 and know his heart free from the stain of wrong," 
 was the answer. 
 
 " If this is your love, what must have been His? 
 To see His children straying away into the paths oi 
 sin, unmindful of His love, not moved by His tears, 
 to save them, to bring them back. He gave His 
 own most precious life, bearing the punishment of 
 their sin, that they might be reinstated in the 
 Father's house. What love ! Unfathomable to human 
 hearts," answered Mr. Parton. 
 
 " If we make mistakes, and go astray, we can still 
 go back ? " 
 
 " Your mother's heart can answer. The Saviour 
 loves with a tenderer love than mothers know." 
 
 " My boy ! my boy ! Would I could have him 
 back ! " exclaimed the mother. 
 
 "'Come unto me,' He says. There never was 
 sweeter invitation. As you long for the return of 
 your child, so God longs for the return of his child. 
 His love never wearies," plead the pastor. 
 
 " He loves all?" was the trembling question.
 
 D O WN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 2 1 9 
 
 " His love is free to all, whosoever will. Freely 
 he forgives, blots out, and will no more remember." 
 
 "Alas ! too late I 've learned to ask. My children 
 are lost to me. He cannot give them back," and 
 there was agony in the mother's voice. 
 
 "There is no limit to his power; none to his 
 grace," was the tender response. 
 
 "Will he hear?" 
 
 " Would you hear Jay ? " 
 
 "A whisper, lighter than the summer air, would 
 fill my heart with rapture." 
 
 "Then judge by this faint measure what his joy 
 must be. 
 
 " * As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I 
 comfort you/ " said the pastor.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SETH WHITE GOES TO THE THEATRE. 
 
 IN a small apartment in the east wing of the 
 Belden Institute, a young man sat at a table 
 covered with books and manuscripts. His eyes 
 were on the open page, and, had the professors seen 
 him, they would have been delighted with the utter 
 abstraction of look and manner. Deeply absorbed 
 he was ; but it was not of his studies he was think- 
 ing. An open letter was in his hand, and a play- 
 bill was spread out before him, the great red letters 
 staring him in the face. Could it be that Seth White, 
 the persevering young tutor and the indefatigable 
 student, was thinking of the stage? Could he find 
 time to go to the theatre, provided he had the wish 
 to see the representation ? 
 
 The theatre was not a standing institution in Bel- 
 den. It was a new idea, an innovation on estab- 
 lished usage, in that time-honored town, calling forth 
 the indignation of some and the curiosity of others, 
 and making, on the whole, a "good thing," the man- 
 ager said. Whatever it was, everybody had some- 
 thing to say ; and, between the crying down of pro- 
 fessors and the laughing of students, the actors were 
 favored with a capital house every night. 
 
 •
 
 U U IV JV WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 221 
 
 To go or to stay, was not the question with the 
 young tutor. Neither did he take it upon himself 
 to decide upon the merits of the drama. Studious 
 as he was, he was not without a good degree of im- 
 agination. He knew that Paradise Lost, though an 
 exceedingly religious poem, was largely dramatic, 
 and could easily be prepared for the stage. To make 
 the matter short, he enjoyed a drama ; and still, he 
 had never been inside a theatre, never seen a repre- 
 sentation on the stage. It was not the drama, neither 
 the actino; that disturbed him ; he was thinking sim- 
 ply of the actor. " Cyrus Delafield " was before him, 
 " a rising star in histrionic art," the paper said ; and 
 again Seth White lived it all over, — fresh and distinct 
 before him, his first visit to the city, and to Mrs. 
 Delafield's house. Who would have dreamed of 
 such a change? And there was pity in his heart. 
 The letter was from his cousin, Herbert Lindsey, 
 and made it all plain. 
 
 Sitting in the midst of his books, the one lamp 
 sending a fitful light over the room, it all came back; 
 the diffidence he felt, and the mistakes he made. 
 His cousin was careful to take him to all the princi- 
 pal places of resort, encouraging him as one from 
 whom he hoped much. Grateful he was for such 
 exhibition of kindness, profiting by every word and 
 Ic^k, and more and more determined to improve 
 himself to the extent of his ability. Daisy and El- 
 len received him warmly; they did not mind his 
 inaiwaise grace, meeting him as an old friend and 
 speaking tenderly of their acquaintance in the coun- 
 19 *
 
 222 DO WN WARD A ND UP IV A R D. 
 
 try. It is a long time since he has thought of it, and 
 now it all comes up before him, — the passing bow 
 from Jay and Cyrus, the stately hauteur of Kate and 
 Agues. He made no effort to appear what he was 
 not ; neither did he strive to hear wha<- was not in- 
 tended for him ; and still he did hear Kate's expres- 
 sion with regard to inviting " the clod hopper " to 
 her party. This had stung him to the quick. He 
 felt that it was true ; that he was constantly out- 
 raging the usages of metropolitan life; that his coat 
 was coarse and unfashionably made. He knew that 
 his appearance warranted her in laughing at him be- 
 hind her fan. He did not wonder that she did it; 
 and still it stung him, causing him to appreciate alt 
 the more the kindly welcome of the two with whom 
 he had spent a summer in Tipton. 
 
 Mr. Delafield had also rendered him service in the 
 business on which he came. Try as he would, he 
 could not deny that he was pained ; and the defects 
 of which he was conscious weighed him down with 
 heaviness. More than once after that did he find 
 himself murmuring against the circumstances that 
 hedged him in — the hard, narrow path in which he 
 had been compelled to walk. Looking to Jay and 
 Cyrus, he felt that his manner would have been as 
 smooth, his bow as graceful, had he only been more 
 accustomed to society. Why did God give so much 
 to some and so little to others ? And he remem- 
 bered that he felt dissatisfied with himself, and still 
 resolved to do all that was in his power. 
 
 With all the mortification, that visit was an event
 
 D O WN WA KD A ND UP W A R D. 22 3 
 
 in his life from which he dated many a high resolve. 
 It had stimulated him. Others had risen to eminence 
 with less favorable surroundings than he had known. 
 What had been accomplished in the past could be 
 effected in the future. He was led to see his own 
 deliciencies, and he determined to make them less. 
 And at last the memory of the kindness he had re- 
 ceived was made to balance the derision and scorn 
 that at first so distressed him. Never had he exerted 
 himself as he did after that visit. And now he is 
 reaping the fruit of his labor. Less than three short 
 years, and what changes had taken place ! The rich 
 merchant dead and his family scattered. 
 
 Once more Seth reads the letter, and his eyes fill 
 with tears. There is nothing of envy in his heart 
 now, but pity, real and unaffected. If not intruding, 
 he would like to see Cyrus Delafield ; perhaps he 
 could render him a service. At least, he could shOw 
 him there was nothing remembered to his disadvan- 
 tage. To do by others as we would like to be done 
 by was his motto. But how to bring this about ? 
 
 A significant rap on the door, and Thomas Cline 
 entered. 
 
 *' Studying as usual, White. Just put up your 
 books for once, and come with me to the play. 
 They say it is well worth seeing ; and the principal 
 actor has a very commendable degree of talent; bids 
 fair to excel in this particular art." 
 
 "To tell the truth, I was just thinking of it," re- 
 turned Seth White. 
 
 " This is the last night, and his favorite role^ I am 
 told."
 
 224 i^ O VVN WA R D A ND UP W A R IK 
 
 " I would like much to meet this young actor. I 
 care not so much to hear him," continued the student. 
 
 " That can be easily effected. Fortunately, I know 
 the manager. He will be delighted, if I introduce you 
 as ' Professor,' " added Thomas Cline. 
 
 " Not quite that ; but I Ve half a mind to go." 
 
 ** Come on ; don't stop, or your half resolve will 
 grow cold." 
 
 And thus suddenly and unexpectedly Seth White 
 went to the theatre. 
 
 The play was half through when the two friends 
 entered. Curiosity was awake. The students, scat- 
 tered liberally among the audience, looked up as the 
 young tutor passed along ; they had not thought of 
 him in such a place. TJie seat to which they were 
 directed commanded a good view of the stage ; while 
 through the folds of the curtain they could catch 
 glimpses of by-play between the acts. 
 
 It was a Roman play, and they could not deny a 
 certain kind of dignity in the noble senators seated 
 on the boards. The entire scenic display was better 
 than they anticipated ; and as the hero made his 
 appearance in the last act, he was greeted with shouts 
 of applause. In his white hair and venerable-looking 
 beard, his tall and dignified figure enveloped in the 
 Roman toga, Seth White failed to recognize the 
 youth he sought. His acting was creditable, and 
 his entire bearing gave evidence of spirit and ability ; 
 bravos greeted him on every side ; and when he 
 made his bow and reeled gracefully from the stage, 
 his companions meeting him with a glass " to
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 235 
 
 fortify," the young tutor determined, for the sake of 
 his dead father, to warn him of the peril that sur- 
 rounded him. 
 
 To effect this he followed his friend into the hotel, 
 and was by him duly introduced, and among the rest 
 to Cyrus Delafield. For an instant their hands met, 
 and their eyes looked into each other's faces without 
 recognition. The tutor, dubbed professor by his 
 friend, seemed far removed from the rustic whom 
 Cyrus Delafield remembered as Seth White ; while 
 the flushed face and wandering eyes of the actor were 
 as far removed from the high-bred, graceful youth 
 accustomed to all the elegancies of city life. 
 
 Conversation turning upon the drama, the actor 
 grew brilliant. What reforms were not to be effected 
 by this means, — prejudices overcome, and elevation 
 and refinement carried to the highest perfection. 
 "And why not? Shall we never see these wonder- 
 ful creations of master minds reproduced upon the 
 stage without the fear of losing caste, provided we 
 are led to patronize them ? May not a theatre be 
 conducted with strict regard to the principles of 
 morality, taste, and refinement? The very fact of 
 your being with us to-night shows me that you are 
 above the narrow prejudice that we so often have to 
 combat." 
 
 " And still there is a practical difficulty in this re- 
 form. It is not that the drama is essentially wrong, 
 or that the composition is not commendable, but the 
 associations connected with it," returned the tutor. 
 ''The inherent quality of the drama can only be
 
 226 DO WN IV A RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 known by representation, bringing it out clearly and 
 distinctly before the mind, giving a tangible form 
 and shape ; and this can only be done by the actor." 
 
 " I hardly agree with you there," returned the tutor. 
 "Shakspeare is enjoyed by thousands who never en- 
 tered a theatre. The imagination of the reader sup- 
 plies all scenic effects. I remember, in listening to 
 the reading of one of our most eminent elocutionists, 
 he said : ' It is even doubtful whether the most culti- 
 vated minds receive a deeper impression from wit- 
 nessing the performance on the boards, simply be- 
 cause the unavoidable imperfections of the stage fall 
 far short of the ideal perfection of the imagination, 
 and take from the seeming reality of the persons 
 themselves and the events.' " 
 
 "To a limited number this may be the case ; but 
 the mass would be more affected by a representa- 
 tion," continued the actor. 
 
 " That may be ; but the drama does not turn upon 
 this point. The drama itself is not wrong, neither is 
 the acting inherently wrong. To read a play is to 
 act it to a certain extent. The reader throws him- 
 self into the character whose utterances are before 
 him, and by modulation of tone and varied expres- 
 sion of feature and gesture making the reading like 
 life. In this consists the charm of reading. The 
 same may be said of conversation. Story-telling, for 
 instance, stripped of the peculiar action necessary to 
 give effect, would be like some lifeless thing. Neither 
 is the stage itself a more hurtful place than the par- 
 lor. In one case the reader has a book, in the other
 
 DO IVNWARD AND UPWARD. 22/ 
 
 he speaks from memory, and with all the appearance 
 of being the very person he represents. But while 
 we admit all this, these things themselves are not the 
 theatre, nor is the theatre all these together." 
 
 ** Pray, what is it, then ? " asked the actor. 
 
 "The theatre is a long-established institution. 
 The word stands for a certain understood combina- 
 tion of facts and influences. To the theologian it 
 presents itself as a unit. We speak of the theatre 
 just as we speak of the Church and the State. The 
 word carries with it the idea of a playhouse, nightly 
 exhibitions, and professional actors, with a variety 
 of tragic aiid comic plays, suited to all degrees of 
 intelligence and taste. Almost as invariably it carries 
 with it the idea of late hours, frivolity, profane lan- 
 guage, intemperance, loose morals, and the compan- 
 ionship of the vilest characters," answered the tutor. 
 
 "A little good, you admit, with an immensity of 
 evil. Then why are you here ? " and the eyes of the 
 actor flashed indignantly. 
 
 " I came to see one who is said to excel in the art 
 of representation." 
 
 "And you have seen him. Pray, what do you 
 think of him? " was asked in a tone of irony. 
 
 " I think of him as the son of one who did me a 
 service in my need, and whose memory is linked 
 with the sweetest and most sacred reminiscences of 
 my life," was the feeling response. 
 
 " Pray, who are you, if I may be so bold?" 
 
 " Do you remember Herbert Lyndsey ? And do
 
 228 DO IV iV WA RD A XD UP WA RD. 
 
 you recall an evening when he brought a country 
 cousin to your father's house in New York ? " 
 
 "Seth White?" exclaimed the actor. 
 
 "The same." 
 
 " I have a distinct recollection of Seth White, from 
 Tipton; but you have changed astonishingly. I did 
 not dream of your being one that I had ever seen." 
 
 "Have you heard from home recently?" asked 
 the tutor. 
 
 ** You know that our home is not what it used 
 to be?" 
 
 " I knew that you had lost your father." 
 
 " My mother lives in a small way, and I am 
 here." 
 
 " It is the profession of your choice ? " questioned 
 the tutor. 
 
 '* I had no choice. I was obliged to resort to it. 
 Besides, I am to create a reform. The wrongs that 
 you have enumerated must be expelled. The theatre 
 is destined to carry with it a different meaning than 
 you have given it," and the actor spoke calmly. 
 
 " At present, you acknowledge that I am right? " 
 
 "All this is the effect of prejudice," was the reply. 
 
 " Prejudice that requires more than one lifetime 
 to overcome." 
 
 "I shall do what I can," said the actor. 
 
 " Use the same amount of labor on something that 
 is not so restricted. Success will be more perma- 
 nent, and not so long coming," continued the tutor. 
 
 "That may be; and still I tried it for a year or 
 more, worked hard, and gained nothing."
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 229 
 
 " You win more here ? " 
 
 "Certainly," said the actor, starting to his feet. 
 ^ " You also spend more," questioned the tutor. 
 
 " I cannot deny it ; but these are trial days. When, 
 by study and practice, I become a favorite, I shall 
 reap more abundantly." 
 
 •' How will it be with your moral character? Will 
 it be possible for you to escape influences that will 
 drag you down ? " 
 
 '' I admit that there is danger. As I have said, 
 the theatre is not what it is destined to be. You 
 allow there is some good. This is to increase, and 
 the ill tendencies to decrease." 
 
 "It is hard rowing against the tide. I am more 
 afraid that in attempting to do what you imagine 
 you can do, you will be drawn into the 'vortex, from 
 which you will find it impossible to withdraw," said 
 the tutor, tenderly. 
 
 It was late. " You will pardon the freedom that 
 I have taken. Had my regard for you been less, I had 
 not seen you this evening," added the tutor, as he 
 took his leave. 
 
 "Allow me to say that I am sincerely obliged to 
 you for your kindness. I will think of what you 
 have said; and if I cannot do for the stage all that 
 I propose to do, I will certainly endeavor to keep 
 myself from the evils you have enumerated," re- 
 turned the actor, and the interview was at an end. 
 
 20
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 GOING AND COMING. 
 
 ONCE more the soft, sweet spring was dispen- 
 sing gifts — rare tufts of hyacinths, with violets 
 and lilies. A healing balm was in the atmosphere, 
 and the brown earth was flecked with sunshine. 
 
 A cold, bleak winter they had passed; and as they 
 gathered in the sm.all room at night, their w^ords 
 caught something of the outward brightness. To 
 Mrs. Delafield it had been a long continued trial. 
 From the day Jay left, she had not heard from him. 
 Only this: she knew that he was free; the thought 
 consoled her. He was young; she was sure he would 
 reform. All winter Ellen had been at her books, 
 and Daisy giving lessons. Old ties are all sundered, 
 save some few friends who cling to them unmindful 
 of the change. They have no complaints. So com- 
 pletely has Daisy grown to think of others, so busy 
 are her hands, that fancies no longer trouble her 
 brain; one, two, three, leaving her at night too tired 
 to dream. But now the spring has come, and it is 
 impossible to be sad. The teeming earth is full of 
 praise, and heavy hearts thrill with gratitude. 
 
 Alas ! human hearts are strong to endure ; but 
 there is a point beyond which they cannot go. 
 With the elasticity of youth, Ellen and Daisy felt 
 
 230
 
 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 23I 
 
 the general revivification of the season. Not so 
 Mrs. Delafield ; as the air grew soft and balmy, she 
 began instinctively to droop. One by one the long- 
 taxed nerves gave way, the springs of life were 
 sapped. Dr. Landseer called often ; his kindness 
 can assuage, but cannot change. 
 
 "Are you making calculations for a recess, or 
 does your term extend the year * round ' ? " asked 
 Mr. Lyndsey, as he called with Dr. Landseer. 
 
 ''That will depend upon my pupils," answered 
 Daisy. 
 
 " A little respite would invigorate you." 
 
 *'I am not unnerved by the heat of summer. I 
 breathe freer with the thermometer at a hicrh fip;ure." 
 
 *' That does not do away with the necessity of rest. 
 The body is not only a machine to act as directed, but 
 a machine that needs to stop occasionally for repairs." 
 
 "Oh, I wind up at night," and a light laugh sprang 
 to Daisy's lips. 
 
 " I have just received a letter from Mrs. White. 
 She sends a pressing invitation for you all to spend 
 the summer with her. She says you will be wel- 
 come," continued Mr. Lyndsey. 
 
 "Mrs. White is kind; and there is no place that 
 would please me as well. It is doubtful, however," 
 and Daisy threw a glance in the direction of the in- 
 valid. 
 
 The visitors had gone ; and, drawing their chairs 
 still nearer to Mrs. Delafield's couch, Daisy talked 
 of the summer spent with Mrs. White — the valley 
 nooks, climbing the mountains, and looking over
 
 232 DOWN WARD AND UPWARD 
 
 fields golden with sheaves. Then of the morning 
 walk with Lydia, the sorrowing woman they had 
 met, the visits to Mrs. Orcutt, and the quaint talks 
 with Nathan. It was not so long ago; and still 
 Daisy feels that she has grown much older — so 
 changed the circumstances of her life, the lessons 
 given and the lessons learned. As a traveller drinks 
 in new views at each step, so Daisy feels that the 
 way has not been barren. If the track looked dark 
 at first, it is brighter now. Faith sees clearer, and 
 hope mounts up on stronger wings; while Ellen 
 clasps her mother's hand, and tries to speak cheer- 
 fully of the future. 
 
 Great waves of tropical heat rolled over the city. 
 In her small home, Daisy was still giving music les- 
 sons. *' Because my own heart is sad, I must not 
 disappoint my pupils," she said to Ellen; and the 
 days passed on. 
 
 " You need rest, and must have it ; and, as for 
 Ellen and Mrs. Delafield, I have determined to ap- 
 propriate them to myself." And Dr. Landseer in- 
 terrupted the lesson one morning. 
 
 " Here is a letter from Mr. Hawley. He asks that 
 you come to him for a few weeks. His sister was 
 thought to be greatly improved. She is rational at 
 times, and converses readily ; but her health is fail- 
 ing. She can live but a short time. You are perhaps 
 aware that her husband is expected daily. The poor 
 mother's heart is true to the first promptings. She 
 thinks — Good heavens! are you ill, child?" and Dr. 
 Landseer caught the fainting figure in his arms.
 
 DOWN fVAR I) AND UPWARD. 233 
 
 The doctor had gone. Daisy was alone with Bar- 
 bara. 
 
 ** Say to my pupils that I am ill: our lessons must 
 be suspended for a time," and Daisy read the letter 
 from Mr. Hawley. The handkerchief had been sent 
 to England, with the tiny pair of half-worn shoes. 
 "There is no mistake: the child that wore this 
 handkerchief must have been our own," was the 
 answer. 
 
 Tears rolled over the white face. Is it possible? 
 Had she a mother? and were these words traced by a 
 father's hand? Was there a heart pining for her — a 
 heart capable of penetrating all disguises and recog- 
 nizing- its own through the mere force of instinct? 
 Now was explained the strange, subtle emotion during 
 their first meeting, — the rising sympathy, and ten- 
 der, yearning love on her own part ; the quiet, rest- 
 ful expression on the poor sufferer's face. Is there, 
 then, a voice stronger than reason — a tender, subtle 
 tie between mother and child, something impalpable 
 in the soul, and sure to be recognized, despite obsta- 
 cles or estrangement? 
 
 ** After all these years, is it for me to know a 
 mother's love, to rely upon a father's care ? Great 
 God, have mercy ! Spare her but to speak to me 
 but one word ! May I hear it from her lips. May 
 I be permitted to breathe the one word — mother," 
 and Daisy was overcome with emotion. 
 
 " I sh .11 not leave you to go alone," said Dr. 
 Landseer, as he made preparation for Daisy's journey 
 to Tipton. " I would take you myself, but Mr. Lynd-
 
 234 DO WN IF A R D A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 sey goes out at the same time. I would not hasten 
 you ; but there is a fear " 
 
 Daisy understood that he would say there was a 
 fear her mother would not live. She had no wish 
 for delay, and the next morning left for Tipton. 
 
 Days passed. Nestled in her mother's arms, Daisy 
 learned the secret of the rest, the turning of the 
 face, when she had thought the tangled brain fancied 
 her to be some other than she was. 
 
 ** I asked for proof," said Mr. Hawley, as he 
 clasped the thin fingers. " But for the handker- 
 chief and the tiny shoes, we might not have found 
 you." 
 
 Then came a day when a lone man, bent with 
 grief, not years, clasped to his heart the wife and 
 child so long sundered. It is said joy kills as well 
 as grief. Be it so or not, the bliss of meeting on the 
 mother's face seemed a sweet foretaste of what there 
 was in store ; but not here, — the bloom and beauty 
 on the other side. 
 
 The day of burial was a day to be remembered in 
 Tipton. A day when the people came out to sym- 
 pathize with the good pastor whom they loved, and 
 whose silent suffering for years had rendered him only 
 the more earnest in the work given him to do. Sad 
 hearts ! but over all the shadow of a great joy. 
 Leaning on the arm of her father, Daisy walked, 
 calm and tranquil, although the tears were streaming 
 over her cheeks. God had been good to that 
 sorrowing mother, giving back her treasures, and 
 permitting her to recognize the gift. Was it in
 
 D O WN WA R D A ND UP WA R D. 235 
 
 mercy that her reason was clouded, her sensibilities, 
 in a measure, blunted? 
 
 Standing by the grave of that dear mother, Daisy 
 learned how much her father had suffered, — his let- 
 ters all returned, made to believe his wife and child 
 were dead, the years he had passed a solitary man, 
 his only solace his books and a sweet trust in God. 
 
 Among the villagers that crowded around .to con- 
 dole with and to congratulate her on being restored 
 to a parent's love, there was none more welcome 
 than Mrs. White. Her good, motherly heart was 
 brimming over with thankfulness, as she spoke of the 
 summer passed there, and of the strong conviction 
 she herself felt, as she saw the effect of Daisy's 
 presence on the invalid. 
 
 "A woman does not live in her intellect," said 
 Mrs. White. " Her affections are the well-springs 
 of her being. The mother's love was warm and ac- 
 tive, if her intellect was clouded." 
 
 " Franklin made a trial of this theory," Mr. Hawley 
 observed; *' suddenly presenting himself before his 
 mother as coming from the same city where her son 
 resided, representing himself as being an associate 
 and a friend. His mother did not recognize him." 
 
 "That some souls are more ethereal, more capable 
 of receiving impressions, or how can we account for 
 the statements with regard to those who have made 
 known their impressions relating to events con- 
 nected with the welfare of intimate friends and rela- 
 tions?" said Mrs. White. 
 
 '' There is room for a good degree of speculation
 
 236 D O JVX IV A RD A ND UP WA R D. 
 
 here, and also many fine-spun theories ; such minds 
 not unfrequently inhabit very frail bodies. I cannot 
 deny that I have been led to sentimentalize not a 
 little. Still, it is no clearer: try as I will, a dim, 
 misty veil hangs over the subject, and when I dare 
 to lift it, I find a wall, an impenetrable barrier, 'thus 
 far and no farther, O man ! ' and, trembling and 
 dumb, I retreat, ashamed that in my pride I left the 
 beaten track, seeking to unravel what He had pur- 
 posely veiled," returned Mr. Hawley. 
 
 '* My father used to relate impressions of this kind 
 connected with his mother's memory," continued 
 Mrs. White. " His family was from Scotland ; and 
 when his father left, he promised his wife that she 
 should return in a given time to visit her mother, 
 between whom there was more than the common 
 attachment of mother and child. Before the time 
 specified, and while they were anticipating the visit, 
 the wife suddenly appeared before her husband, and 
 said to him that she no longer wished to return, for 
 she felt sure that her mother was dead ; and to re- 
 turn to a desolate home was more than she could 
 endure. It made very little impression upon him at 
 the time ; but sufficient to note it down, and soon 
 after a letter was received, bearing the intelligence 
 of the sad event, and proving to have taken place at 
 the very time the wife spoke to her husband." 
 
 " I do not pretend to understand, much less to ex- 
 plain, these coincidences. I have never supposed 
 that we used our powers to the limit of their capa- 
 city ; the sensibilities of our nature refining and be-
 
 DOWN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 237 
 
 coming more acute by the study of those subjects 
 that lead upward, pressing against the invisible bar- 
 rier that separates the real and tangible from the 
 spirit world around us. Quick feelings are checked 
 by the rough winds of our present existence ; and 
 keen sensibility does not bring happiness to mortals. 
 Hearts susceptible of the most exquisite enjoyment 
 are also the ones to be plunged in the deepest woe," 
 was Mr. Hawley's reply. 
 
 "It is better to suffer than to go through life with- 
 out the blessedness of joy," replied Mrs. White. 
 
 "It would not do for all to have the same temper- 
 ament; diverse as our work, so varied is our capacity. 
 To use what we have to the best of our ability is all 
 that is required; and if a soul receives an impression 
 in advance of others, it is only what we see in the 
 natural world. The highest peaks are the first to 
 catch the sun rays, — the rosy gleam deepening and 
 rolling away in waves of golden light to the distant 
 valleys," continued the pastor. 
 
 "The most exalted are the most isolated," said 
 Mrs. White. 
 
 "In one sense, perhaps; and still I question if the 
 impressions of which you speak are not more fre- 
 quently received in such an atmosphere." 
 
 "I am not equal to reasoning ; and yet I feel there 
 are some souls with more of God in them than 
 others," said the woman. 
 
 "We have the privilege to drink from the same 
 fountain. Some of us touch our lips, and start back 
 as we feel the electric influence running along our
 
 238 DO IV jv IV a rd a nd up wa r d. 
 
 being. Others quaff from a full pitcher. These are 
 the God-filled souls," was Mr. Hawley's reply. 
 
 To Daisy Delaficld, or, as she was now called, 
 Daisy Lisle, the days brought rest. For years had 
 her nerves been strung to the utmost, and the strain 
 was beginning to be felt. In general, sudden changes 
 are not calculated to increase individual happiness. 
 It was not the tornado, — uprooting all that was beau- 
 tiful in her nature, tearing and rending asunder, — but 
 rather emerging from a rough, thorny way into a 
 smooth plain, filled with flowers and enlivened with 
 singing birds and gurgling rivulets. 
 
 Herself changed, she found change in others. 
 Lydia was no longer the timid, awkward girl. Her 
 form had rounded into beauty, and her face wore the 
 expression of lofty and pure thought. Making use 
 of opportunities, she had gathered a creditable share 
 of knowledge, and her conversation was seasoned 
 with wit and humor. 
 
 Summer vacation brought Seth from Belden, and 
 the atmosphere of Mrs. White's house was full of 
 delight. To ]\Ir. Lisle, the companionship of the 
 young students had the effect to unlock the rich 
 stores of knowledge he possessed, opening his treas- 
 ury, and unfolding truths gathered in as the fruit 
 of his own study and research. A summer of rest 
 to some and of rare enjoyment to others — sitting 
 with Nature in her temple gates, and learning lessons 
 not written down in books. 
 
 " How much we lose," said Herbert Lyndsey, as 
 from the porch they watched the sun go down.
 
 D O IVN WA RD A ND UP WA R D. 239 
 
 "Seeking far and wide for objects to admire, forget- 
 ful that His hand fashioned the wayside flower, and 
 gave it beauty beyond the form of human thought." 
 
 " It requires a lifetime to learn the use of common 
 things," Mr. Lisle replied ; " or, rather, for us to 
 learn His wondrous love, surrounding us wherever 
 we may be with forms of beauty marvellous to eyes 
 from which the scales have fallen." 
 
 "It is our mistake to do, then to enjoy," added 
 Herbert. 
 
 " I question if we do not make too much of that 
 * to do;' using our powers to the full stretch working, 
 not enjoying; and, by reason of continual labor, 
 dying before we have accomplished half of what, by 
 moving slower, we could have done," replied Mr. 
 Lisle. 
 
 "I suppose this feature of life is more to be seen on 
 this side of the water. I do not consider it the nat- 
 ural outgrowth of our institutions ; and still, when it 
 is left for one to carve out for himself, the enjoyment 
 must be, in a great measure, in anticipation. He 
 can chisel and think ; but he cannot la)' aside his 
 chisel, even for needful relaxation. I have some- 
 times felt, in my own experience, that of all the gifts 
 to crave, would be the power to do to the utmost 
 limit of what is due, and at this point to drop it, let 
 it be as it may; giving myself to enjoyment with 
 just as much zest as before to my labor," answered 
 Herbert. 
 
 " You cannot do it," and a smile broke over the 
 face of Seth White.
 
 240 DOWNWARD AND UPWARD. 
 
 " No, I cannot do it," was the quiet reply. 
 
 " I have tried," continued Seth ; "tried conscien- 
 tiously, all the while conscious of thoughts creeping 
 stealthily back ; thoughts that would not be re- 
 strained by a sense of duty, neither won by all the 
 allurements it was mine to set before them." 
 
 " I presume we have all felt more or less of this," 
 said Mrs. White. " I have to confess to an earnest 
 endeavor in this direction; and it was only as I came 
 to feel in my heart that all there is required is to do 
 what we can, that I was able to work and to enjoy 
 as I went along." 
 
 " God has given us work to do," said Mr. Hawley, 
 as he emerged from his study. ** And if we act, he 
 will show us hov/ to do it. In the meantime, he 
 has given us taste to enjoy, and set us in a world of 
 beauty. If labor is a command, to enjoy is not less 
 binding. What would a parent think to see a child 
 always toiling, never stopping for a pleasant word, 
 taking no notice, and spending no enthusiasm on the 
 beautiful objects which had come to him from time 
 to time as tokens of his father's love ? There is a 
 time for everything. Labor is essential to our men- 
 tal growth ; enjoyment is needful for our physical 
 well-being. God treats us as children."
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 BEFORE the summer passed, Dr. Landseer and 
 Ellen Delafield made a trip to Tipton. 
 
 *' I must come out every season, if only for a few 
 days," said the doctor, as Mrs. White welcomed him 
 to her house. " And, agreeable as I have endeavored 
 to be, there is no denying that since her mother's 
 death, Ellen has pined for a glimpse of Daisy's face." 
 
 The two girls were walking on the porch, talking 
 of all that had passed, running out into all the little 
 confidences refreshing to young hearts. 
 
 The tears were running down Dr. Landseer's 
 cheeks as he joined them. 
 
 ** Herbert has written me of all the changes; and, 
 while I sincerely rejoice in this union of hearts so 
 long separated, I am sad that your father has decided 
 to take you to England." 
 
 " On a visit, merely; he has promised to make his 
 home here," returned Daisy. 
 
 " This is as it should be," and the doctor turned to 
 Mr. Lisle. " I am very glad to know that you are 
 to return. I was fearful this little friend would be 
 induced to marry a lord for the sake of being near 
 you." 
 
 21 Q 241
 
 242 D WN WA RD A ND UP IV A R D. 
 
 " I half suspect her choice was made before I had 
 an acknowledged claim," and the sad eyes rested on 
 Herbert Lyndsey. 
 
 " Be assured there is not a worthier man ; not one 
 of whom you may be more justly proud," Dr. Land- 
 seer replied. 
 
 At night Ellen crept up to Daisy. 
 
 '* It seems like old times to be with you, Daisy. 
 You never can know how lonely I have been ; how 
 much I missed you ; how much mamma missed you. 
 I knew it was wrong; but that did not make m,e 
 think of you less. I had so long been accustomed 
 to go to you for advice, and when I felt badly." 
 
 "There is One who is always willing to give you 
 advice ; and when you are sad and lonely. He is all 
 tenderness," said Daisy, with all the old warmth. 
 
 " I know ; and when I have felt badly because I 
 could not hear from Jay and Cyrus, I have gone to 
 Him and felt comforted ; but I can't help feeling 
 badly. Cyrus is still on the stage; as an actor he 
 has a good degree of merit, Dr. Landseer says. But 
 oh, Daisy, it was the burden of mamma's heart; 
 through all those last days her cry was- to see them, 
 to know that they were good, true men. I don't 
 even know where Jay is, or what he is doing. 1 
 could but think of it to -night. I hope it is not 
 wrong. To see Seth at the table, fine-looking and 
 graceful ! You remember that Kate laughed at the 
 way he held his fork ? Jay was beyond him then. 
 Oh, if I only knew that he is equal to him now I " 
 exclaimed Ellen.
 
 no WN WARD AND UPWARD. 243 
 
 "Seth was obliged to work and to study, and a 
 blessing it has proved to him," was Daisy's reply. 
 
 " Grant Clayton has known a still harder life, and 
 Dr. Landseer says that he will make one of the best 
 physicians in the city. Daisy, would n't you think 
 those parents who love their children would pray to 
 be poor?" 
 
 "We must not undervalue riches because some 
 have made mistakes ; rare advantages are open to 
 those who have the means, and, as a matter of 
 course, more harmony in mental and physical growth 
 in an atmosphere not frigid from necessity." 
 
 " But something else is needed, Daisy." 
 
 **A good firm principle as the ground -work, 
 whether we be poor or rich," answered Daisy. 
 
 " Dr. Landseer says there must be exertion ; and 
 when our wants are all supplied, there is nothing to 
 prompt us." 
 
 " True, diamonds are not found without a careful 
 search ; and so it is with our intellectual and spiritual 
 gifts." 
 
 " I would be afraid to be rich, Daisy." 
 
 " If you are ever rich, you will know how to use 
 it. Wealth is to be used judiciously. The mistake 
 is in feeling that it is ours, and not realizing that we 
 are only the stewards. The responsibility is ours, 
 and an exact account will be demanded of us." 
 
 " It is fearful, any-way," and Ellen was weeping 
 passionately. 
 
 Above them the stars were shining, and the night 
 air was heavy with perfume.
 
 244 ^ jvjV wa rd a nd up wa r d. 
 
 " Have you heard from Mrs. Flashman recently? " 
 Daisy asked. 
 
 " She wrote me, after mamma died, several times ; 
 the first was to tell me she did not think it necessary 
 for her and Agnes to put on black ; it would make 
 no difference, she said, no one knew mamma in 
 Montreal. Then, again, to tell me that Mr. Flash- 
 man had lost a large amount, and that she would be 
 obliged to stay at home during the summer. Agnes 
 writes occasionally, but she seems unhappy. I some- 
 times wish," but Ellen did not say what she wished, 
 and Daisy was silent. 
 
 The few days that Dr. Landseer remained, he 
 insisted on passing as much as possible in the 
 open air. " Climbing the hills, as we did that first 
 summer," he said to Daisy, " drinking from the 
 same spring, and carving our names anew upon the 
 trees." 
 
 Seth and Lydia were not averse to this. And 
 Herbert Lyndsey was again a boy, making whistles, 
 climbing trees, and shouting out in boyish glee and 
 abandon. Once more Ellen and Daisy went with 
 Seth after the dun cows ; but Mike was there to let 
 down the bars ; and when they returned, he insisted 
 that Lydia could not milk, that privilege belonged to 
 him. 
 
 Sweet day of unbending from study and toil ; days 
 to be remembered for the good they brought, the 
 rest, the suggestions, and promptings received from 
 nature herself, drinking in the health-giving influ- 
 ences, and only the more able to do effectual work.
 
 D O WN IV A RD A ND UP WA R D. 245 
 
 " I feel ten years younger than when I came out," 
 said Dr. Landseer, as he took his leave. 
 
 " There must be a feeding time for the mind as 
 well as for the body and for the soul of man as 
 well as for his intellect. Nature is a grand teacher; 
 the more we love her, the more she repays that 
 love." 
 
 Dr. Landseer returned to New York alone, Ellen 
 was to remain a month. In the meantime Mr. 
 Lisle and Daisy were making arrangements to sail 
 for England. 
 
 "A year or two and, Providence willing, we shall 
 return," said Mr. Lisle, as the villagers crowded 
 around them to say good-by. A few low murmured 
 words and stifled, heart-breaking sobs, and it was 
 ended. New paths were to open, new experience to 
 be theirs. 
 
 " A year or two," murmured Ellen, as she sank 
 down by the side of Mrs. White, and covered her 
 hands. " What changes may not take place in that 
 time?" 
 
 " And what lessons of patient love and trust may 
 not be learned, dear ? " 
 
 THE END.
 
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