^^&^mm^^mmf^^M^^ ^s^SlfiS&^fSwS - IV U. EDITH'S MINISTRY BY HARRIET B. McKEEVER, AUTHOR 0* " SUNSHINE," " WOODCLIFF," " THE WOODCLIFF CHILDREN," STO. PHILADELPHIA: J. P. SKEI.LY & CO., No. 21 SOUTH SEVENTH STREET, (SECOND FLOOR.) 1869. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by HARRIET B. McKEEVER, In the Office of the Clerk of the District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. SlKBEOTTPED AND PRINTED BT ALFRED MARTIEX. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE THE CLIFFORD FAMILY 7 CHAPTER II. THE GOVERNESS 17 CHAPTER III. THE STRONG-MINDED WOMAN 28 CHAPTER IV. RALPH CAMERON 36 CHAPTER V. ROSY DEEAMS 46 CHAPTER VI. CITY COUSINS 54 CHAPTER VII. THE Two PASTORS 62 CHAPTER VIII. AUNT PRISCILLA. 74 CHAPTER IX. A PICTURE ON THE BALCONY 86 CHAPTER X. THE FAMILY CHAIN BROKEN 97 CHAPTER XI. BEYOND THE SEA Ill CHAPTER XII. PRINCIPLES TRIED 125 CHAPTER XIII. AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 139 CHAPTER XIV. SCENES NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN ... 147 2047323 VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER XV. PAGE ANGELS' VISITS 161 CHAPTER XVI. THE BAPTISM OF GEIEF 175 CHAPTER XVII. BANISHED 193 CHAPTER XVIII. DISAPPOINTED HOPES 210 CHAPTER XIX. MISGUIDED MADGE 228 CHAPTER XX. COMING OUT 248 CHAPTER XXI. WOODBINE COTTAGE 286 CHAPTER XXII. Is IT MADGE? 284 CHAPTER XXIII. A WRECK UPON A SUMMER STREAM 303 CHAPTER XXIV. GREEN PASTURES AND STILL WATERS 321 CHAPTER XXV. AUTUMN LEAVES AND THE OLD ELM-TREE 341 CHAPTER XXVI. THE SISTER'S RECOMPENSE 361 CHAPTER XXVII. WINTER BLASTS ABOUND OAK HALL 379 CHAPTER XXVIII. EVENING.... ... 394 EDITH'S MINISTRY. CHAPTER I. THE CLIFFORD FAMILY. HE wind whistled shrilly around a noble man- sion, which stood proudly upon a high eminence on the North River. It had been called Ravens- wood, after the family name of Mrs. Clifford, and had belonged for many years to the old estate. From the front piazza there was a commanding view of the beautiful Hudson, and all around, the scenery was highly picturesque and romantic ; rolling hills and noble forests, dotted over with tasteful residences, presented a picture of exceeding beauty. In summer, the noble river was one of the most attractive features in the landscape, but now, its ice-bound surface only spoke of the presence of a grim jailer, shutting in a cheerless prison, its dancing waters. Our story opens in the winter, when the trees are stripped of all their luxuriant foliage. The keen wind swept around the lofty portico, which stretched across the front and wings of the house, wailing first in low sighs, then in prolonged blasts, cracking the dry boughs, and howling a wintry dirge over the desolation which it had itself created. 7 8 EDITH'S MINISTRY. Snow had fallen for several weeks, and the ground was covered with a hard, frozen surface, cracking beneath the feet of the traveller. It was night ; the large bay-window of the south wing was brilliantly lighted, and within was seated a lovely fa- mily group, gathered in the library just after their evening meal. The room was large and airy, the walls were fur- nished with walnut book-cases; in the centre stood a large study-table, lighted by a bright lamp with several branches. Comfortable chairs of various kinds were scattered around ; two couches with pillows, covered with crimson moreen, stood, one in the large bay-window, and the other on the side of the room. Fine pictures, and the busts of distin- guished persons adorned the walls, and heavy crimson cur- tains shaded the windows, and served to shut out the wintry blasts. In a large parlor-grate blazed a fire of bituminous coal, and the room exhibited an appearance of wealth and comfort. In a comfortable arm-chair, on one side of the fire, was seated Mr. Clifford, a fine, noble-looking man, in the prime of life ; by his side, on a lower chair, reposed the lovely mother of the family. She was a small, delicate-looking woman, so fair and ethereal in her appearance, as always to remind one of the frailty of human life. Her soft blue eyes and transparent complexion, with a profusion of light, flaxen hair, would have indicated weakness of character; unless a more observing glance had been directed to - the arched nostrils, and beautifully curved mouth, where sweet- ness, mingled with firmness, sat enthroned. Her figure, though small, was graceful ; but there was a languor in her movements, a sad sweetness in her smile, and a faltering in her step, that spoke of failing strength, and a feeble hold on life. At the table sat Frank, the only son, a boy of sixteen, a handsome youth, with a profusion of curling dark hair, and flashing eyes, brimful of the spirit of mischief. Margaret, or Madge, as we shall call her, a girl of fourteen, THE CLIFFORD FAMILY. 9 sat in a corner, in a little chair, near the fire, with a large book on her lap, which she seemed to be almost devouring. She was small, thin, and awkward ; her complexion swarthy, her features out of proportion, especially her nose, which was aquiline, and very large; her mouth was expressive, but not beautiful, but her eyes, (when you could get a glimpse of them,) were so remarkable, that once seen, they could never be forgotten ; they were so brilliant and variable in their expression, and at times so luminous, that they seemed almost to emit light ; but so very eccentric and shy was this little girl, that she seldom raised her eyes long enough for you to see their beauty, so generally veiled under the long, dark eye-lashes. Books were her constant delight ; so much was she devoted to them, that frequently they were hidden from her to compel her to take the exercise which her health demanded. Child- ish ones did not satisfy her ; the great poets fascinated her completely, and, young as she was, even Shakespeare was understood and appreciated. The eldest daughter, Edith, a girl of seventeen, was seated on a couch in the bay-window, with her arm encircling the waist of her governess, whom she dearly loved ; and well she deserved her affection, for Miss Arnold was DO common person. She was about thirty years old, commanding in her appearance, and possessed of rare qualifications as a teacher. Edith Clifford was a lovely girl, tall and graceful, with a face beaming with feeling and intelligence ; her complexion was a pale, clear brunette, and a wealth of glossy raven hair hung around her face and shoulders in waving ringlets. Her beauty was chiefly in the lofty and bright expression of her face ; not in the mere skin or in the moulding of her features. She had naturally a proud spirit, but a warm and generous heart, and talents of a high order. The third daughter, Blanche, was beautiful as a poet's dream ; the fourth, Adele, a twin, an arch, mischievous little sprite, full of fun and frolic ; the next, Lilly, a timid, sensi- 10 EDITH'S MINISTRY. tive little creature ; and the pet of the family, Emily, a babe, not yet out of her mother's arms. This family group was gathered, as was their custom, in the library, early in the evening, for papa delighted to have his whole family together at that hour. The party at the table was busily employed in a game ; Emily sat on her papa's lap, playing with his hair, patting his cheek, and caressing him tenderly. Edith, sitting near the window, called Miss Arnold's atten- tion to the beauty of the winter sky, saying, " How grand the constellations are to-night! Orion is brilliant as a band of diamonds, and the Great Bear, how splendid he appears ! What are those, Miss Arnold, in the shape of an A?" " That is the constellation of the Pleiades; how much more beautiful they are in the winter !" As they were conversing, they observed two figures moving rapidly up the avenue that led to the house ; they were male and female, and as they drew nearer, the lad darted out of the path, and ran across the grounds to the window, where, knocking sportively, Edith recognized Gerald Fortescue, and his sister Josephine. In a minute more they entered the room, and were warmly greeted by the party in the library. They were near neighbors, who resided at Oak Hall. Josephine, the elder, was a fine-looking girl, with rather a brusque, independent bearing, that was almost masculine. Gerald, aged about nineteen, was a pale, intelligent-looking youth, with waving brown hair, shading a lofty forehead ; and eyes with a thoughtful, dreamy expression. He seemed to look up to his sister with great admiration and reverence. They had not been long seated, when the bell rang for evening worship, and Mrs. Clifford arose and led the way to her own sitting-room, followed by all but her husband. He was a man of the world, and, though tenderly attached to his lovely wife, thought her notions too strict and puritanical, therefore, he took no interest in these services. Mrs. Clifford was a devoted Christian, and true to her views THE CLIFFORD FAMILY. 11 of duty, walked straight forward in her humble path of piety and devotedness to God. It was a trial, in the presence of her servants and children^ thus silently to reprove her hus- band ; but her duty to God demanded it, and she was obe- dient. In her room stood a parlor organ. Miss Arnold played delightfully on the instrument, and Mrs. Clifford,- who had a sweet voice, led the singing. Solemnly she read a portion of the Scriptures, and then implored, in earnest, heartfelt prayer, the blessing of God upon her household, not for- getting the guests who were present with them on that occa- sion. Gerald was touched by the sweet tones of intercession ; but Josephine remained seated, with rather a contemptuous expression upon her face. She prided herself much upon her noble intellect, forgetting who had bestowed the gift, and instead of using her talents in the service of God, and bowing her will to his, she had struck out a path for herself, and was walking in the light of her own understanding, independent of God's revealed will. In her college life (for she had graduated at a female institution), she had unfortunately carne in contact with strong-minded women, and finding their foolish boasts of independence consonant with her notions of woman's rights, she had thrown aside the gentle charms of womanhood, and had fully imbibed the irreligious spirit of those misguided women. Consequently, this sweet evening service she regarded as fanatical and pharisaical, and sat during the exercises, while others knelt, to show her want of respect for their observances. After the services, they all returned to the library, save little Emily, who was dismissed, with a mother's sweet kiss, to her nightly slumbers. Gerald seated himself near Edith, and entertained her with a book of beautiful engravings, which he had brought over; she seemed delighted with the book, and frequently called Miss Arnold to admire the lovely pictures. Frank amused himself with teasing his sister Madge (a remarkably sensitive child), who exhibited much impatience 12 EDITH'S MINISTRY. under the infliction. Blanche, Adele, and Lilly were deeply interested in cutting out some Avinter garments for their dolls. Before separating, all, excepting Madge, joined in several merry games of real sport, but none could persuade the way- ward child to join them. " Let her alone," said Frank, thoughtlessly, " she is a poor little mope, always pouting and grum." Madge raised her eyes for a minute, and they flashed fire at her thoughtless brother, as she said : " I don't think I should ever like to play with you, Frank, for you do nothing but pull my nose, and twitch my hair ; you never do so with Blanche and Adele." " Go off to your books, Madge, it is all that you are good for," and the poor little thing turned her head away to hide the tear that she was too proud to show. She stole softly around to her mother, and whispered, " Mamma, may I go to bed ? I do not feel very well." " Go, my child ; and don't forget to pray," was the affec- tionate reply. When she retired, she soliloquized thus in the silence of her room. " I wonder if anybody will ever love me ? they all love Blanche and Adele, but they are beautiful, and I am ugly ; I shall never be pretty, and I can't be good, even if I try ; I find my bad temper leading me off, even when I feel my heart bursting for the want of somebody to love me ; I try to hide it, and say cross and wicked things, when I don't feel all that I say. Oh ! dear ! oh, dear ! what shall I do ? mamma tells me to pray ; but do I pray ? or do I only repeat words ? I am afraid that is all ; and yet I can't go to bed without repeating my prayers." Ere retiring, from the force of habit, Madge knelt by her bedside, and repeated her form of prayer, but it gave no relief, for the heart was not in the service. She lay awake for a long time, and at last cried herself to sleep, determined that she would not be any better, and that no one should know what she suffered. About nine o'clock, the party in the library separated ; the winter moon was shining over the landscape, and as the THE CLIFFORD FAMILY. 13 young people stood on the piazza, Gerald turned to Edith, and said : " I am going to college, soon ; how I shall miss you ; will you ever think of your brother Gerald ?" "Yes, indeed, Gerald; in our pleasant walks and rides, in our excursions on the river, everywhere we shall miss you." " Edith, I must have a lock of your hair ; will you give it to me before I go ?" " You shall have it, Gerald ; and what shall I have of yours ?" " You shall have my dog, Bruno. I think that you will take good care of him for my sake, won't you, Edith ?" " Gladly, Gerald ; that will be delightful." " I am going out to ride to-morrow, Edith, before break- fast ; will you accompany me ? or would you think it too cold?" " No, indeed, Gerald, I am used to the wind of our bleak hills ; and if mamma will permit me, I will be ready." " Good-night, Edith ; I shall call for you." This conversation took place ere they parted, and Edith turned back into the house, saddened by the thought of soon losing the society of Gerald Fortescue, for they had passed most of their lives in the closest bonds of childish intimacy. Frank was a dear affectionate brother, but such a tease, that it was with peculiar feelings of relief, that Edith could always look to Gerald for protection, when her brother was in his mischievous moods. Gerald was a peculiarly interesting character, remarkably warm-hearted and generous ; his nature was cast in one of the finest moulds of promising boyhood. Not so strong as Edith, he looked to her often for advice and sympathy, when few others understood him. The attachment which sprang up between these young persons was remarkably pure and tender, and the thought of parting was very painful to each young heart. Gerald's education had hitherto been conducted at home, under the care of a tutor, with Frank for his companion, 14 EDITH'S MINISTRY. after he had passed from the care of a governess, but it was now deemed expedient to send him to college, and his sensi- tive nature shrank from the trial of leaving those he loved. When Edith spoke of the ride to her mamma, her consent was freely given, and Edith was up long before the breakfast hour, ready for her ride. Her favorite pony, Lady Jane, was standing at the front door, impatiently champing her bit, in the hands of a groom, and Edith, in her dark riding dress, was seated on the piazza, looking eagerly down the avenue for her companion. In a few minutes, Gerald, mounted on a fine horse, attended by his dog, Bruno, made his appearance ; as soon as he saw the young girl, he lifted his cap, and she welcomed his approach by a graceful wave of her little riding whip. Edith had been so long in the country, and been so accus- tomed to exercise out of doors, that she was not afraid of a winter ride ; and warmly clad, she mounted her pony in great glee, and off they scampered, Bruno barking and capering around them in gambols of delight. " Edith, what shall I do without you, when I go to college ? we have passed all our lives together, and when I get among a parcel of rough boys, I shall miss my gentle sister." "You must be careful, Gerald, of your associates, have nothing to do with dissipated or idle companions ; you have never been away from home, and I suppose that you have no idea what you may have to meet with in college life." " You will often see my sister, Edith ; I hope that you will love her for my sake." " I cannot be deceitful, Gerald, but indeed thus far I am afraid of Josephine, she has such a way of commanding every one, and has such strange notions about women ; and then she says such dreadful things about ministers, that really, Gerald, I cannot help feeling more of fear than love for her." " That is all true, Edith, but still she is my sister, and cer- tainly has great talents." " I know it, Gerald, but the other evening when she wa.s THE CLIFFORD FAMILY. 15 speaking against our dear good pastor, I could scarcely refrain from speaking, I felt so indignant." " I was wounded also, Edith, for how can I ever forget dear kind Mr. Berkely, he has been such a faithful friend to me ; he has given me a letter to the Rev. Mr. Perkins, who is one of the faculty of our college." " You will seek his friendship, dear Gerald, and go to him when you need Christian counsel." Thus they continued to beguile the time, and at the end of an hour returned, much exhilarated by their morning ride. Edith entered the breakfast-room glowing with health, and running up to her mother, kissed her affectionately, and exchanged the morning salutations with each of the family ; after morning prayer, the party separated, and prepared for their daily routine of duty. Gerald spent as much of his time as he could spare with his friends. At length the time arrived for his departure. Ere leaving, he visited all his favorite haunts, gave charges to old Uncle Ben, a family servant, concerning all his pets, his pigeons, his rabbits, and his pony, Lion, were all re- membered. On the night before his departure, he brought over his dog, Bruno, and said to him : " Now, Bruno, here is your new mistress, you must be a good dog to Miss Edith ; and now, Edith, where is the precious curl?" True to her promise, she had cut a beautiful lock from her head, tied it with a ribbon, folded in a piece of paper, and handed it to Gerald. "Edith, will you answer my letter, if I write to you?" "I will, with mamma's permission." " I shall often need your kind sympathy, and shall see your dark eyes bent on me with all your old sisterly affection ; how often I shall long for their approving glance ! Good-bye, Edith." " Farewell, Gerald ; be industrious, faithful, studious ; the time will pass away rapidly, if you keep busy; and you will soon be with us aguin." 16 EDITH'S MINISTRY. As he turned away, Edith saw a tear glistening in his eye, and she prayed for God to bless her youthful companion. Edith was very lonely for some time, but with the hope- fulness of youth, she began to count the days which would intervene before Gerald would return ; and though she missed him from all her accustomed haunts, she was too busy with her studies to allow the time to hang heavily. Bruno was her constant companion; in all her rides and walks his presence was indispensable, and nothing could ex- ceed his joy, when he heard his young mistress calling him to her side. She heard constantly from Gerald, he made her the confi- dant of all his perplexities, the partaker of all his success, and the sympathizer in all his troubles. His letters were always shown to her mother, who saw nothing in them but kind, brotherly love on his part, and on Edith's the s\veet return of a sister's pure affection. Sometimes, Mrs. Clifford added a postscript, for she pitied the sensitive boy, so early deprived of a mother's love, and finding nothing congenial or womanly in his strong-minded, masculine sister, Josephine. At the close of the winter, Edith received the following : " DEAR EDITH : As there will be a short vacation of two weeks at Easter, I hope to run up for that period to Oak Hall, when I shall again see my dear old friends. I am making good progress in my studies. I have endeavored to take your advice with regard to associates, for I have but one intimate friend, who is very studious, and an uncommonly smart fellow ; he has carried off several prizes ; he is a re- ligious youth, and takes no part in any of the diversions common to young men. I think that you will like Ralph Cameron ; he is coming home with me. How are old Bruno, and all my pets ? With love to the home circle at Ravens- wood, I remain, as ever, your affectionate ' Gerald." CHAPTER II. THE GOVERNESS. S. CLIFFORD had been for years in a delicate state of health, and had, therefore, been unable to endure the toils of educating her children ; she could not bear, however, to remove them from under a mother's influence, and had been fortunate in having secured the services of a governess remarkably gifted as a discip- linarian, and instructress. She had been a resident in their family ever since Frank was seven years old, and Edith eight ; nine years of constant and affectionate intercourse had greatly endeared the mother and the governess; and the friendship existing between them was disinterested, elevating, enduring ; no single incident had ever marred its happiness, for here were two Christian females united by perfectly sym- pathizing views in the great business of education. Miss Arnold had some peculiar ideas, very different from old established usage, but having made them known to the parents when she first undertook the charge of the children, they had agreed to all her plans, furnished her abundantly with the means of carrying out her views, and after having been con- vinced that she was pious, sensible, judicious, and highly intellectual, both parents resigned the government of their interesting family entirely into her hands, and were richly repaid by the fruits of her labors. When she first came 17 18 EDITH'S MINISTRY. among them, the children were small, and she told Mr. Clif- ford that she differed much from many, in her opinions of the best means of training the infant intellect. She would not use books for some time, but would at first endeavor to supply their thirsty minds with a stock of clear and simple ideas; therefore she would wish a room where she could have a cabinet filled with specimens from the animal, vege- table, and mineral world, birds, plants, minerals, shells, diagrams, pictures of animals, specimens of everything which could appeal to the senses, numerical frames, a piano, materials for drawing, &c. Mr. Clifford, judging wisely, that money laid out in education was well invested, spared no pains or expense. Accordingly, a large room, light, airy, cheerful was fur- nished, as Miss Arnold directed, for a school-room. It was neatly carpeted, provided with pretty desks and chairs, where attention was paid to their fitness for promoting comfort and physical development. The walls were hung with pictures of animals, plants, flowers, costumes of nations, in fine, everything which could give useful and entertaining information. On one side, were cabinets filled with objects properly classified, birds, butterflies, and insects; another filled with minerals, shells, &c. ; another with specimens of all kinds of common objects, such as a tuft of wool, a pod of cotton, a bunch of flax, a cocoon of silk, some stalks of wheat, rye, corn, &c. Pictures descriptive of real islands, mountains, hills, lakes, rivers, valleys, cities, towns, &c., where the object represented as it really exists, gives clear ideas of the terms used in geography. Such a room is like a charming museum, where young pupils would acquire a love of knowledge, such as no thrumming over worn out books could ever supply. We will pay a visit for a moment to some of the institu- tions for the education of the young. The school-room is small, confined, and gloomy ; the children are seated on low benches, without any support for their backs ; some with slates in their hands, scrawling figures without ideas, and letters without meaning. The teacher sits at a desk, with a THE GOVERNESS. 19 dull, lifeless aspect. A poor little child is standing by her side, with a worn-out primer in its hand. " What letter is that?" Answer, "B." "No, it is D. What is that?" Answer, "A." " No, it is O. Now mind, that is 0." The child begins to yawn, and gaze about the room. " Look on your book ; you'll never learn anything. What letter is that ?" Answer, " J." " No, that is G. Now what does that spell ? D-o-g D-o-g." " I don't know." " That spells dog. Now, say dog." By this time the child is very tired, for its interest is not excited. While this tiresome lesson is going on at the desk, the other little ones, becoming weary of their slates, are be- ginning to tease each other. " Teacher, Sarah is pulling my hair !" " Teacher, Harry is rubbing out my figures !" " Teacher, may I go down-stairs ?" And the poor lady is annoyed for three hours in succession, by similar trials of her patience. We will turn to another picture, and enter Miss Arnold's inviting room. It is a bright spring morning. Seated at her table, we behold the pleasant teacher, neatly dressed, with a cheerful, smiling aspect. We will describe a day when they were all quite young. Edith, Frank, Madge, Blanche, and Adele, are seated around the table, while Miss Arnold is opening school with little Lilly seated on her lap. Happy children ! surrounded by the singing of sweet spring birds around the school-room windows. There is as much of harmony within ; the harmony of loving hearts, of neat attire, of intellectual food, properly administered. Happy children, to be thus early blessed ! On the particular occasion to which we have already referred, all, who are able to read, have Bibles in their hands. Each reads a verse from the Sermon on the Mount. Frank reads, " Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the king- dom of heaven." Miss Arnold questions them as follows : 20 EDITH'S MINISTRY. " Frank, what is meant by poor in spirit ?" " I suppose that it means humble, meek, lowly." " I'll tell you, dear. I saw a boy, the other day, walking out in the avenue. A country boy, much younger, came along, and said something insulting. The large boy flew at him in a passion, and struck the little boy in the face, giving him a black eye. What kind of a spirit had he?" Frank's face colored, as he answered, " He had a hasty, passionate temper, I suppose." " Imagine that he had gone up to the little boy, and said, gently, ' I am sorry that you made that speech. I feel very kindly towards you, and will show you that I do, if you will come with me to the house.' What kind of a spirit would the boy show ?" " He would show a meek and lowly spirit." " Yes ; that is what is meant by being poor in spirit." " But, Miss Arnold," replied Frank, " the boys would call that mean-spirited." " Was the blessed Saviour mean-spirited, when it is said of him, that, when dreadfully abused and persecuted, and even struck by cruel men, that ' He opened not his mouth ?' Just imagine the holy sufferer, so calm, so quiet, so dignified. Could you call that undaunted, heavenly countenance mean- spirited ? And we are told to follow his example." And thus she continued to remark, for a few minutes, upon these words of Jesus, while the children listened in rapt at- tention ; then going to the piano, she played a sweet hymn, in which they all joined, and then offered a simple, fervent prayer, for guidance, and for blessing. " Now, children, we are ready for the lessons of the day." Frank, Edith, and Madge, being old enough, are preparing their recitations ; but Blanche, Adele, and Lilly, are taught by another method. Going to a cabinet, Miss Arnold takes out a tuft of wool, and brings it to the table. " What is this, Blanche ?" " It is wool ?" " Where does it come from ?" THE GOVERNESS. 21 " From the back of a sheep." " What is it used for?" "Clothing, blankets, carpets, &c." " Is it hard or soft? Bring me something hard." Blanche runs and brings a piece of wood. " Adele, bring me a picture of a sheep." She runs and brings one. " What kind of an animal is a sheep?" " It is gentle, timid, useful." " Name some of the uses." Each child eagerly names something. " Who are compared to lambs in the Bible ?" " Young Christians." After all these questions, and many more, are asked, the black-hoard is resorted to, and the words sheep, lamb, wool, hard, &c., are written with chalk on the board, and the chil- dren taught to spell and pronounce each carefully. Thus, with each word, ideas are connected. " Now to what kingdom does the sheep belong ?" " To the animal kingdom," replies Adele. " How many different kingdoms are in this room ?" " Three." " What are they ?" "The animal, the vegetable, and the mineral kingdoms." " Name an animal, Lilly." She eagerly calls out, " A peacock." " Name a vegetable." Another calls out, " Wheat, rye, corn." " Name a mineral." Another eagerly exclaims, "Slate, crystal, iron, gold." The blackboard is called for again. Peacock, wheat, rye, corn, slate, crystal, iron are spelled. " Now which of you can give me an account of what you have learned to-day?" Blanche threw up her little hand again. " Well, let me hear," said Miss Arnold. " We have learned that wool grows on the back of sheep ; 22 EDITH'S MINISTRY. that the sheep is very timid, gentle, useful ; that wool is useful for clothing, blankets, carpets. We have learned that all things are divided into three kingdoms, the animal, the vegetable, and mineral. This room is full of such things." " Now, children, get your slates, and copy the words from the black-board ; that is your writing and spelling lesson." Any intelligent person witnessing the interest manifested in such a lesson, would be at once convinced by the animated looks and gestures of these highly favored children, that here the intellect is really improved, and the pupils deeply inter- ested. When the copy is completed, and the words correctly spelled, their kind teacher, with a pleasant smile, says : " Now, children, run out a little while, and see which of you can bring me specimens from all the kingdoms which I have named to-day." While they are gone, she proceeds to hear Frank and the two girls their lesson in General History ; every difficult word is explained, and they are not only required to recite perfectly, but to make their own remarks upon characters, incidents, &c., as they proceed ; after this lesson has been fully mastered, they are required to write an abstract in a book prepared for the purpose, ready for next day. No mere parrot teaching is inflicted upon these chil- dren ; books are made interesting, and knowledge delightful. Their school-room is one of the happiest spots in the house, and not a place for stupefying the puzzled brains of unfor- tunate children. In about half an hour, Blanche has brought in a pigeon, Adele a bunch of flowers, and Lilly a rusty old nail. " Name this, children," said Miss Arnold, as she caught the pigeon. " Mine is an animal," said Blanche. " And mine a vege- table," said Adele. "And mine a mineral," said little Lilly. After a sprightly lesson in geography, and an animating game of mental arithmetic, Miss Arnold bade the children prepare for their walk, and quickly attired in suitable clothing, they started off on their daily excursion. On this THE GOVERNESS. 23 morning, she directed their course down the avenue, and out into the road, which led them down a steep hill, until they reached a shady lane. " I am going to take you this morning, children, down to old Aunt Becky's ; she is very sick, and perhaps she wants something." They all ran cheerfully along, except Madge, who was a wilful child, and never willing to take out-door exercise. Miss Arnold saw that a perverse fit was on her ; she did not chide her, but turning to her, pleasantly, said : " Come, Madge, I want you for my little companion ; Blanche and Adele have run away from me." " My shoe pinches me, Miss Arnold, and I would rather go back home." " Come here, Madge, and I will make it comfortable," and taking off her shoe, she perceived that there was a crease in her stocking, which she soon smoothed, and the child could then walk comfortably. Blanche and Adele were in high glee, and ran races all the way, and when they reached Aunt Becky's cottage, their glowing faces brightened the old woman's lowly dwelling. They found her suffering very much with the " rheumatiz," as she styled it. " Bless your dear hearts, young ladies, I'm right glad to see you, for I'm so lonesome like when my old man goes away to work, that I feel, sometimes, as if I must get right out of bed, and go too, but I'm so lame, that I can hardly move, any how." " Can we do anything for you, aunty ?" said Miss Arnold. " Well, honey, if you could send me a little nice tea, and some warm flannel for my old limbs, I would be a thousand times obleeged to ye." " You shall have what you want, aunty ; shall I read a few verses to you from the blessed book ?" " Yes, and thank'ee, too, dear." Miss Arnold, telling the children to be seated, read a few verses from her little pocket Testament, which she always carried with her. Aunt Becky thanked her warmly, and 24 EDITH'S MINISTRY. then they bade the old woman good-bye, promising to send the comforts she needed. Frank and Edith engaged to bring them in the afternoon, and thus they had learned another lesson, on the duty and blessedness of deeds of benevolence. These were the practical lessons daily learned from their excellent governess ; the intellect, the heart, the character were daily strengthened and purified, under her blessed influence. When they returned, the three elder children resumed their studies, which occupied their time, until within half an hour of dinner. Miss Arnold was a fine classical scholar ; she conducted these branches with the elder children, and was preparing Frank for college. Contrary to her usual course, she permitted Madge at twelve to commence these studies, for the child's understanding was so remarkable, that she had really mastered all the elementary branches of an English education ; music and drawing also had a proper place in her instruction. Having deep insight into character, she wielded the sceptre of authority with a skilful hand, and while she had secured general obedience, the mode by which she governed, could scarcely have been described by her young charge. Frank's impetuous character had caused her much anxiety. Madge's perverse, unconquerable will sadly per- plexed, and sometimes baffled even her powers of govern- ment; Adele's love of fun, and talent for repartee caused her great uneasiness ; and Blanche's weakness of purpose, and yielding disposition, often alarmed her watchful friend. With Madge she endeavored to avoid a contest, but if the gauntlet was thrown down by the obstinate child, Miss Arnold never yielded one inch of requirements once laid down. Adele was constantly offending, and promising to do better. Edith was a source of great comfort ; having a mind of a high order ; to instruct her, was a work of unmingled pleasure. High and lofty principles of action, were daily striking their roots down deeply into her character, and though pride was still her failing, Miss Arnold hoped that THE GOVERNESS. 25 years, and the grace which she desired for her beloved pupil, would finally exterminate the poisoned weed. She often looked with trembling anxiety at the pallid countenance, and feeble step of her dear friend, the mother of this family, and prayed earnestly that God would spare the Christian mother to her flock. Mrs. Clifford's physician, sometimes sp^oke of a residence in the south of France, as probably the only means which could restore her health, and Mr. Clifford was seriously weighing the whole matter in his mind. He had written to friends residing there, ask- ing what accommodations could be obtained for so large a family ; what would be the best mode of reaching there, and all other information necessary, ere taking a step which might prove so important; this he intended, however, should be a last resort, as he had heard much of Magnolia, a place in Florida, celebrated for invalids. With the advice of his physician, he had concluded that in the following autumn, he would take his beloved wife to this institution, ere the cold season should commence ; and if no benefit was derived from this, a removal to the continent would be the next step. Madge became increasingly perverse and troublesome; it required all Miss Arnold's wisdom to know how to manage her. One morning when the bell for school rang, the little girl was nowhere to be found ; after a long search, one of the servants discovered her secreted in an old garret, with her favorite volume of Shakespeare in her hand. "Miss Madge, Miss Arnold has sent me to call you down to school." " I won't go, and you may tell her so if you please. I am reading one of my favorite plays, and I won't go until I have done." "Shall I tell her what you say?" " To be sure you may, I'm not afraid of anybody." In a few minutes, Madge heard Miss Arnold's foot upon the stair-case ; too proud to hide, she boldly met Miss Arnold's look of astonishment, with one of angry defiance. 3 26 EDITH'S MINISTRY. " Madge, come down with me, you are setting a dreadful example to your little sisters." Madge was sullen and silent. "Will you not come?" " No, I will not ; I am tired of being led about like a poor, tame little slave." "Who told you that you are a poor, little slave?" " Never mind, Miss Arnold, I have one friend who thinks something of me." " Do you mean Josephine Fortescue ? if you do, she is a bad adviser ; if you persevere, Madge, in your disobedience, you Avill break your mother's heart." Madge was softened for a minute, but at last she said, " My mother does not care for me, she loves her beautiful children better, what need I care for her ?" " Oh ! Madge, beware how you indulge in such wicked re- bellion. Will you come, or will you not ?" " I will not." " Then listen to what I have to say. You remain here in confinement, where your meals will be sent, until you are in a more obedient state of mind ;" and with these words, Miss Arnold turned sorrowfully away, locked the door, and put the key in her pocket. Much as it grieved her, she was obliged to tell Mrs. Clif- ford of the state of affairs, in accounting for Madge's ab- sence from the family circle. The mother fully justified Miss Arnold in her course. Her meals were sent up regularly, by the maid in charge of the nursery, and at bed-time, she entered the next room, where she staid all night, for fear that Madge should be frightened in the dark. But the child remained inexorable ; for one week she re- fused obedience, until at last, Mrs. Clifford was taken up stairs, and with faltering step and tearful eyes, she entered the room of this misguided, rebellious child. Madge really loved her mother, and the sight of her pale, suffering face, overcame her, and throwing her arms around her, in an agony of grief, she begged forgiveness, THE GOVERNESS. 27 When Madge appeared again in the school-room, the chil- dren were all delighted, for they could not bear to feel that any one of their number was in a state of punishment. She recited her lessons, performed her tasks, but after that was done, she shrank again into her gloomy shell of sullenness and reserve, and poring over her favorite books, was all the pleasure which she really enjoyed. Frank sometimes made an attempt to draw her out, but she always repulsed him with scorn ; even Edith had no in- fluence; she was angry with Blanche, because she was so beautiful, and with Adele, because she was so merry and witty. One day, moping in her corner, Adele came running up to her, and saying, in a sportive manner, It is very well seen, That Madge is a queen, For her walk is so lofty and grand; She holds up her head, It is frequently said, Far above all the great in the land, Madge did not fancy the mocking reverence with which Adele went backing out of the room, as though in the pre- sence of majesty. Mrs. Clifford and Miss Arnold had many consultations about the misguided, unhappy child ; and both concluded that obedience must be enforced at all times ; and although they could not change the proud and wayward heart, they could take her case to the Great Physician, who only could expel the evil spirit. When alone, she still brooded sullenly over what she called her wrongs ; ever complaining that no one loved her, constantly forgetting that love begets love, and attributing to others, faults most glaring in herself. But resolutely she kept her feelings to herself; and as usual, avoided all society but that which she found in books. And yet there was in that little heart a capacity for loving, yea, and that to idolatry ; but the question who should awaken that better spirit, had not yet beei answered. CHAPTEE III. THE STRONG-MINDED WOMAN. HE nearest neighbors to the Cliffords, were the Fortescue family, the wealthy occupants of Oak Hall. Both parents had died when the children were very young, consequently, they had been placed under the care of an estimable, but not very energetic lady, Miss Mary Preston, a sis- ter of Mrs. Fortescue. Gerald, the younger, had always been an amiable, gentle boy, very imaginative, and passionately fond of the beautiful, whether in nature or art ; his talent for painting was very remarkable, and had early developed itself in the youth. With these refined and delicate tastes, were corres- ponding traits of character; although possessed of warm affections, a lack of firmness was his great defect; on this account Aunt Mary and Mrs. Clifford dreaded the period when he should come into contact with the world around him, and be called upon to act on the great theatre of human life. Josephine, on the contrary, who was the elder, early ex- hibited great talents and strong traits of character; an indomitable will, and great pride of opinion made her, even in her childhood, quite beyond the control of good Aunt Mary, who was advised to send her early away from home. A celebrated institution in New England was chosen as the 28 THE STRONG-MINDED WOMAN. 29 place where Josephine Fortescue was to be fitted for woman's holy calling. It was a college of great note, and as she had exhibited uncommon gifts, a school was selected that presented the very highest advantages. It had not been told innocent Aunt Mary that the whole tendency of education there was masculine, and would foster all those peculiarities which she wished most carefully corrected. When she heard of Spartan strength mingled with Attic refinement, she thought that it was some great achievement in the field of education, and that these were names of some great men, who had named their systems after themselves, and there she rested satisfied. Josephine's reports from year to year were most flattering; she obtained many prizes, and although in her visits home during seasons of vacation, her good aunt saw that her views became still more independent, and her manners more rude and dogmatical, she thought that it was impossible to check these strong tendencies, and was therefore contented to let matters take their own course. Occasionally, papers were sent home giving accounts of the pupils' performances in public, and frequently the name of Josephine Fortescue was pointed out, as the one excelling in composition and oratory. Articles were often sent from her pen, that displayed great vigor of intellect in one so young ; but the subjects she discussed, were those belonging especially to the province of man. Political economy, slavery, woman's rights, moral reform, the age of progress, the downfall of priestcraft and superstition, were the sub- jects chiefly engrossing her attention ; and Aunt Mary, though sometimes alarmed at some of her bold expressions, did not see the tendency of all this unwomanly pride of intellect. When Josephine graduated, it was with high honors ; and her misguided female friends predicted for her, most un- wisely, a brilliant course in the world of letters. Upon her return home, she brought with her one of the great advo- cates of her new theories, Miss Penelope Grimshaw, a tall, 30 EDITH'S MINISTRY. commanding, masculine woman, a great contrast to the femi- nine appearance of her young friend, for Josephine was pos- sessed of a very agreeable figure, and handsome, though strikingly marked countenance. Miss Grimshaw seemed to possess unbounded influence over Josephine, and they proceeded at once to improve some of good Aunt Mary's old-fashioned notions of housekeeping and feminine propriety. Miss Grimshaw had brought her own horse, and two dogs, which she attended to herself. Josephine, of course, must have the same, on the plea that out-door sports were indis- pensable to health ; and that a woman had as good a right to take charge of the stable and kennel as a man, if it suited her notions and her views of health. Much to Aunt Mary's surprise and dislike, in a few days Josephine and Miss Grimshaw, at an early hour in the morning, made their appearance in their stable dress, high boots, very short dresses, and a coarse, dark smock, with hair turned entirely back, under a man's cap. Thus arrayed, they proceeded to the stable, where they curried their horses, fed their dogs, then returned to breakfast, and immediately after, dressed in a very masculine habit, and accompanied by their dogs, they started for a ride on horse- back. They were accomplished riders, and thought nothing of leaping a five-barred fence, fording creeks, and dashing ahead over all obstacles. They soon became subjects of re- mark among the old-fashioned farmers. Their morning hours were devoted to their studies, which were very severe. Miss Grimshaw was a noted character, and publicly main- tained the doctrine, that women, possessed of talents, had as good a right to be a physician, a lawyer, a statesman, or a preacher, as man, provided she possessed the ability. She was filling Josephine's mind with an overwhelming conceit of her superiority, and urging her to obey the call which she affirmed had already been given to the young girl, say- ing, that gifts such as her's must be exercised for the public THE STRONG-MINDED WOMAN. 31 good. They both manifested much contempt for the proprie- ties of female attire, and would conform to no fashion if they esteemed it at all inconvenient or troublesome. In avoiding long dresses, which trammelled their move- ments, they wore theirs immodestly short, very high in the neck, and plain linen collars, on the ground that any atten- tion paid to their attire was a waste of time, forgetting that should all females follow the course which they had adopted, hundreds, yea, thousands, would be deprived of a means of support, which the use of articles of taste constantly fur- nishes. They paid no particular attention to female accom- plishments generally, as they contended that they were only of use to the common class of females, and unworthy of their notice. Miss Grimshaw had attempted sculpture, and Josephine displayed considerable talent for painting; but all her subjects were chosen from among models suitable for a masculine taste. Aunt Mary was much grieved on witness- ing these developments in her niece. She endeavored to direct her talents in another channel, but Josephine only pitied her narrow mind, and turned a deaf ear to her kind, womanly advice. Mrs. Clifford and Miss Arnold were pecu- liarly shocked, and feared the unsettling of all that was lovely and of good report in woman. During Miss Grimshaw's stay at Oak Hall, a notice ap- peared in a New York paper of a lecture on " woman's rights," to be delivered by that lady at one of the public halls. She presented tickets to the Clifford family; but none attended, as their . ideas of female modesty and decorum, utterly prevented their acceptance. Josephine accompanied Miss Grimshaw, and much offended her aunt by sitting on the platform with her and other persons of kindred senti- ments. She delivered her lecture in a masterly manner, and betrayed not the slightest embarrassment at the sight of so large an audience. Occasional hisses did not daunt her in the least, when uttering some sentiments which were too bold and unblushing, even for an audience composed chiefly of those who sympathised with her in her views. 32 EDITH'S MINISTRY. On the next day, Josephine paid a visit to the Cliffords, and meeting Miss Arnold, she said, "I am sorry that you were not with us last evening ; you missed a great treat." " I would not sanction by my presence, what I do heartily disapprove of, Josephine," replied Miss Arnold. "And pray why? Are you also a slave to the vulgar prejudice of hiding a woman's talents under a bushel?" asked the young lady. " By no means, my young friend. I wish woman to obey the divine precept of our Lord, when he says, ' Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your father which is in heaven.' I apprehend that the hand which penned the little word so, would veil the uncovered heads of those strong-minded ladies, and point them away from the forum, the pulpit, and the hall of public debate, to the sweet retirement of the private fireside ; or, if her spirit burned to scatter light by her pen, it would kindly open the door of her study, whence she might with true womanly modesty, pour out a stream of gentle, holy influence, refreshing as the silent dew, and leave to man the stormy arena of fierce debate." "And would you condemn those female apostles, who, possessed of mental power, seek to influence public opinion, and to correct moral abuses ?" asked Josephine. " Your question is answered in the word of God, Josephine; where, in the blessed sanctuary of home, as a mother, wife, sister, friend, teacher, or a sympathizer with human griefs, woman is directed to exert her influence." " And what would you have a woman do with her talents, when they are of an uncommon order ?" asked Josephine. " In the beautiful sphere where God has placed her, to use them for His glory," replied Miss Arnold. " And pray tell me, is the quiet privacy of home a theatre, where a gifted woman can display her talents? "Will you not allow that many women are possessed of masculine minds? ' " I do ; but I dc not think that they are so much to be THE STRONG-MINDED WOMAN. 33 admired or beloved, as those who are more feminine," an- swered Miss Arnold. " When thus endowed, will you pretend to say, Miss Ar- nold, that they ought not to aspire to men's positions, on ac- count of the mere difference in sex?" asked Josephine. " Listen, my young friend, while I quote the language of inspiration ; this covers the whole ground of woman's holy duties and blessed privileges. " ' Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection ; but I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.' And again : ' Let your women keep silence in the churches, for it is not permitted unto them to speak : but they are commanded to be under obedience, as also saith the law.' 'And if they will learn anything, let them ask their husbands at home ; for it is a shame for women to speak in the church.' This is the language of the apostle Paul ; and furthermore, laying aside the negative, let me direct your attention to positive obligations. ' That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, keepers at home, obedient to their own husbands.' And again : ' Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord, for the husband is the head of the wife.' ' For after this manner in the old time the holy women also, who trusted in God, adorned themselves, being in subjection unto their own husbands, even as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him Lord.' " " I answer to all this," proudly replied Josephine, " that if the apostle had lived in these days of progress, he would have known woman's place much better." " Do you pretend to say, my child, that the apostle was not inspired?" asked Miss Arnold, much pained. " It is a matter of much dispute among deep thinkers," answered the young girl. " It appears to me that he took very narrow and contracted views, as regards woman's rights." " What do you mean by that popular phrase, Josephine ?" " 1 mean that she is entitled to perfect equality with man, when God has endowed her with superior abilities." 34 EDITH'S MINISTRY. " If you wish to place woman where she can exercise won- drous power, it is by the domestic fireside. Ask the history of our great men, and observe how many can trace their goodness, and their greatness also, back to the period when a holy mother planted the first germs of divine truth in the young heart." " And yet, Miss Arnold, the language held by the apostle Paul seems to imply a degree of servitude that no intellectual woman could possibly render, especially to one who is greatly her inferior," answered Josephine. " Let her see that she chooses for her companion one whom she can and ought to respect and love," replied Miss Arnold, " and then Scriptural obedience will be a pleasant yoke ; but, Josephine, I am really amused sometimes, when I hear silly women complaining of oppression in a land like ours. I presume nowhere in the world has she so many rights as here. If she is a good and holy woman, in her household she is a queen, and generally leads her spouse by silken reins, even when he imagines that he is governing ; as a sister, her brothers pay the greatest deference to her opinions ; as a daughter, a word is sufficient ; as a woman, alone, or in public and in private, she receives universal respect ; in public vehicles, and at places of amusement, the best seat ; at the table, the first and best served ; and everywhere in America she enjoys her full share of privileges ; there may be some exceptions to all general rules, but the tendency of our nation is to elevate woman." Josephine, with her usual obstinacy, maintained her opin- ions, but as Miss Arnold knew that she had a heart, from the love which she manifested for her brother, she hoped that her errors might yet be corrected, although she saw much trouble and disappointment in her path. She avoided female companions, because she esteemed so few her equals; she had seen but few of the other sex, and would be slow to ac- knowledge them her superiors. She really loved her brother Gerald, but she deeply regretted what she regarded his want of manliness, and v -as constantly lecturing him on his deficiencies. THE STRONG-MINDED WOMAN. 35 He often wrote to her of his friend Ralph, and from his description, Josephine felt much anxiety to know his friend, as she gathered from her brother's letters that he was not a common character, and she hoped that he would imbue her gentle, imaginative brother with some of his mental and moral power. She regarded her brother's reverence for sacred things as another mark of weakness, and in order to show her own freedom from priestcraft and superstition, grieved her good pastor by her neglect of the house, and her desecration of the day of God. On the holy Sabbath, frequently in the company of Miss Grimshaw, she either spent her time in reading secular books, or else in riding on horseback. Miss Arnold remonstrated, and Mrs. Clifford added her gentle voice of warning, but Josephine was first in pursuing her path of rebellion against the authority of God, and sneered at those who bent the neck to the Saviour's gentle yoke. Her good pastor, the Rev. Mr. Berkely, sometimes ventured a remonstrance, but she pleaded superior light, and turned a deaf ear to his warnings. Her example to her servants was all on the side of un- godliness, and Aunt Mary grieved too late, that she had un- consciously placed her among evil influences ; but she was surrounded by an atmosphere of prayer ; Mr. Berkely, good Aunt Mary, Mrs. Clifford, and Miss Arnold, bore her case daily to a throne of grace, and looked in faith for an answer of peace. CHAPTER IV. RALPH CAMERON. IME sped on eagles' wings. Frank was rapidly preparing for college ; and Edith was daily im- proving under the training of her beloved teacher in all that was good. Winter faded gradually, un- til it died in the lap of spring; and the young girl began to look forward with bright anticipations to Gerald's return. She counted the weeks, then the days, then the hours, as he was expected on the day before Easter. Edith, seated on the piazza, was watching for the first glimpse of his approaching figure. The veil of even- ing descended, and she was almost despairing, when she saw Bruno scampering and barking up the avenue, as if in great glee ; and in the next minute, his young master came flying up the old familiar path, with cap in hand, accompanied by a youth somewhat older than himself. In another moment, a warm grasp of the hand, and glowing smiles, testified to the joy of the young friend. Gerald then turned, and introduced his friend, Ralph Cameron. For a youth of twenty, his figure was commanding, his step firm, and his whole appearance striking. He had the eye of an eagle, but which could sometimes melt, under the influence of the gentler emotions of the heart. The expression of his mouth indicated an undaunted will ; generally his look was stern, but when he smiled, the rich glow lit up his whole countenance. 36 EALPII CAMERON. 37 "And this is Sister Edith," said Ralph. "You know not what a talisman there was in your letters, and how often they impelled Gerald to fresh exertions." Edith blushed as she replied, "It made me very happy to write them." By this time they had entered the house, and Gerald, warmly greeted by all, introduced his friend Ralph to the family group. Blanche and Adele were full of open expressions of joy. " Oh ! Gerald, won't we have some nice rows in the boat ? It is so delightful to sail about now on the river, and we have wanted you so much to help Frank row." Madge was pleased to see Gerald, but she kept her eyes reso- lutely on the ground, for fear that he would see them flash the joy which she really felt. " Madge, come here, I have something for you," said Gerald, and as she approached, he presented her with a beautiful copy of Longfellow's Poems. As she raised her eyes for once, Ralph was struck with their exceeding beauty ; but more with the ex- pression of tearful gratitude which they expressed. Forgetting herself for one minute, she seized Gerald's hand, kissing it warmly ; in a minute, she was so frightened at what she had done, that she hastily retreated with her treasure, to a corner of the room. Ralph was attracted by the singular manner of the child, and more so, as he observed with what eagerness she devoured the volume, and wondered whether one so young could appreciate all its beauties. When he found a suitable opportunity, he seated himself by Madge, and said to her, " What are you reading, my little friend?" She scarcely raised her eyes, as she replied, timidly, " Evangeline." " Do you like such poetry ?" " I love it better than anything else ;" and for fear of any more remarks, she arose hastily, and left the room. After tea, the family assembled in the drawing-room, where a great deal of sportive conversation, and a number of merry games occupied the evening. All but Madge partook of the 38 EDITH'S MINISTRY. sport ; and when Ralph came forward and begged her to join them, she replied rather sullenly, "They don't want ine, I'm nobody here." " Do you ever try them, or are you not in the habit of shun- ning your brothers and sisters? They seem to be bright happy little things !" She turned an angry look upon Ralph, as she replied, "What right have you to question me? I would rather be let alone." " I'm not often baffled," replied Ralph, " and I have made up my mind that you shall play to-night. I know that you want to, and I mean to have you for my companion in the sport." She looked at Ralph, and seeing a determined look upon his face, she rather liked the expression, and putting aside her book, went along with him. Believing that the little girl was not so disagreeable as she tried to appear, he resolved to thaw the icy surface. All looked surprised when they saw Madge at first going unwil- lingly and at last close by the side of Ralph Cameron, really enjoying the fun. " Edith, just look at Madge," said Gerald. " The enchanter has waved his wand over her, and she is entirely obedient to his will ; this is the way Ralph rules everybody." "I am truly glad, Gerald," replied Edith, "for really the child's moodiness is sometimes insufferable, and very trying to dear mamma." After the sports were all over, Madge kept close to Ralph, who tried to draw her into conversation, and found that the child possessed a remarkable mind, such as is seldom seen in childhood. She talked freely about her studies, and Madge seemed to be far advanced for one so young ; she was quite a good Latin scholar and mathematician, excellent in history, but her passion for poetry was astonishing ; she could repeat whole pages of Shakespeare, but displayed a correct taste in her selections. Madge had never so completely unlocked her heart to any one as to Ralph Cameron ; she felt happy, because she saw that for once she was appreciated ; and she looked up RALPH CAMERON. 39 gratefully to the young man who had passed by her lovely sisters, Edith and Blanche, and her witty sparkling Adele, and had devoted himself for a whole morning to ugly little Madge. He soon understood her character, and felt a strong desire to prune its wild shoots, and cultivate the flowers, for he con- tended that there was much that was redeeming in her strong nature. While he remained at Oak Hall, Gerald and he were daily visitors; in all their excursions they accompanied the young people, and their presence added greatly to their enjoy- ment. Madge was powerfully drawn to Ralph, for she admired his genius, respected his character, and was grateful for his kind- ness ; moreover, she was a little afraid of him, and though so perverse with others, she allowed Ralph to lead her where he would. On the Sunday after their return, Gerald and Ralph called to go to church with the Cliffords. Madge came forward evi- dently in her dishabille. Ralph, looking surprised, said: " You are not ready for church." " No ; I am not going to-day." " And why not ?" said Ralph. " Because I don't want to ; I am not very well." " That means very lazy ; does it not, Madge ?" She hung her head and made no reply. " Does your mother wish you to go ?" " She does." " Then, Madge, run and get dressed ; I am not going without you," said Ralph. She stole a look at his face, and saw just what he meant. She did not like to be so conquered all the time, and yet she had not the courage to refuse. So she quietly walked into the house, and came back very soon, and while waiting for the carriage, the following conversation took place. " Madge, I am sorry to see that you allow yourself to be so whimsical ; you know your duty, why do you take so much pleasure in acting contrary to it?" " I don't know, Ralph, but there does seem to be such a spirit 40 EDITH'S MINISTRY. of ei.niradiction in me, that even when I know it to be wrong, I am led on headlong." " .Madge, you are a little girl, but you have a strange char- acter ; if this powerful will is directed aright, and bent while you are young into the proper course, you may make a firm Christian woman; but if you allow it to draw you headlong into the path of disobedience, who knows where it may stop ?" Madge raised her eyes, Avhich were now swimming in tears, to Ralph's face, and he could scarcely withstand their touching appeal, as she said to him, what she had never said to mortal man before : " Forgive me, Ralph. I know you are my friend, you tell me so kindly of my faults, and you make me do what is right ; when you are near me, I feel impelled to do my duty but what shall 1 do when you are gone ?" "Do not forget, Madge, that there is a strong and gracious Being ever near you ; He only can aid you to conquer that strong will ; He only can subdue your proud heart, and make you meek and lowly." Ralph Cameron was a young man of sterling Christian character ; he had seen much in the dark, awkward little girl to interest him; he soon perceived that she had uncommon talents, but a most perverse and stubborn will ; but he had also discovered that there were warm affections in that young heart, and though so carefully hidden in its deep recesses, he had succeeded in awakening them, and bringing them into life. Still, with others, the same disposition exhibited itself; the same impatience of restraint, the same determined sullenness, the same jealousy of her sister's merits ; while these remained, Ralph's hopes were frequently dashed to the ground. And yet he could not but love the child, for she really appeared to re- gard him with a species of idolatry ; and his influence over her continued unbounded. Her tyrannical temper was often exercised over her younger sisters, and Miss Arnold sought in vain to control her wayward RALPH CAMERON. 41 pupil. Lilly was a remarkably sweet and gentle child, timid and retiring, and had from her infancy been very delicate. She was now about six years old, and was very tenderly beloved by all save Madge, who was constantly finding fault with the poor little girl, and making her life very unhappy. One day, Madge and Lilly had been sent to take a basket of little comforts to Aunt Becky, and some other poor persons in the neighborhood. Madge was directed, of course, to carry the basket. She was not in a very good humor when she started, and when about half way, she made Lilly take the basket, and carry it for some distance. It was a heavy load for such a little girl ; she soon became very tired, and unable to proceed any farther. " Oh, sister, I am so tired," said Lilly, as she sank down by the roadside. " You are a lazy little thing !" said Madge ; " you only want to make me carry the basket all the way." " Indeed, I am very tired, sister, but I'll try again." And the poor child, with streaming eyes, picked up the heavy load,, and started off again. She had not gone far, when she sank down again on a stone step, by the side of a small stream. " Give me the basket," said Madge, as she pushed little Lilly aside ; and the child, being very weak, fell over into the stream. Fortunately, it was very shallow, and Madge suc- ceeded in getting her out of the water, but she was wet to the skin, and how to get her home was now the question. She could not walk ; she was in danger of taking cold in her wet clothes. Madge saw some men approaching with a wagon, and running up to them, told her story, and begged the men to take them home. They kindly consented. Poor little Lilly was completely overcome. Madge was terribly alarmed, for she saw that the child was very sick. When they reached home, Madge, who was really truthful, told the story just as it was. Miss Arnold carried the fainting child up to her bed. Violent chills succeeded, and then burning fever raged 42 EDITH'S MINISTRY. furiously. The chi!!d soon became delirious, and all her cry was, "Oh, sister, I am not lazy! I am so tired; don't make me curry the heavy basket. I am so sick! Oh, sister, help me ! help me !" It may be well imagined with what feelings of agony Madge listened to these heart-rending cries. Her anxiety was so ex- treme, that she could scarcely keep away from the child's chamber-door; but these dreadful cries would send her to the gloomy garret, when, with bitter reproaches, she mourned over the alarming illness of her sweet little sister. For days, her life hung upon a thread. At last the crisis arrived. As she lay so unconscious, and almost as silent as death, Madge watched in an agony of remorse. The pulse was scarcely perceptible. " Oh, for one moment of conscious- ness, that she might whisper forgiveness ere she dies." This was the agonizing cry of the self-accusing spirit. " If she should die, where should I hide my head ?" None reproached her, for all around her saw what bitter anguish she was suffering. Ralph was greatly distressed. He tried in vain to see her, but since the day of the fatal occurrence, she had carefully avoided his presence. One morning, crossing the hall, he perceived the wretched girl, with her head bowed down, and dejected step, walking down the avenue. Ralph started, with quickened pace, to join her; but as soon as Madge perceived him, she ran off, as if to avoid him. " Madge ! Madge ! do not run away from me ! Stop ! stop ! I must speak to you !" She paused for one moment, and seeing Ralph's expression of distress, waited for him, with a downcast countenance. " I am not going to reproach you, Madge. I know what you must suffer," said Ralph. " Don't speak kindly to me, Ralph ; I don't deserve it," said Madge. " I am the murderer of my little sister ; everybody ought to hate me." " She may not die, Madge. I have prayed for her life, and I trust that the symptoms to-day are more favorable." RALPH CAMERON. 43 "Even should she live, Ralph, I am the same wicked, imperious child ; my temper will be my ruin yet," answered Madge. " Do you try to overcome it? Have you ever gone to Jesus, and laid your heart down at his blessed feet, and asked him to make it clean ?" " No, Ralph, I do not think that I have, for I fear that it would be hypocritical in me to attempt to pray after such cruelty." " Are you not very sorry, Madge ?" said Ralph. "Yes, I think that I am ; but then I have been just as sorry before, and have fallen again into dreadful sin. I think if Lilly should die, I shall never wish to see any one again." Taking the little girl by the hand, and walking up and down the avenue, they continued to converse for some time, and Madge had lost much .of her despairing expression before she entered the house. Great was the anxiety manifested by the whole family in little Lilly's long slumber, it having been said by the physi- cian that she would either insensibly pass away, or awake to life and health once more. Her deathlike sleep continued for many hours. Late in the evening, she unclosed her eyes, and recognizing her mother, stretched out her hand and whispered, "Dear mamma, come kiss me." These were the first rational words she had uttered since her illness. Ralph and Madge were in an adjoining room, waiting anxiously for the result ; and when the tidings reached them of her returning consciousness, the overwrought feelings of the remorseful child sought relief in violent convulsive weeping. With all the kindness of a brother, Ralph endeavored to soothe the little girl. He sympathized with her joy, and said, " Do not let us forget to thank God for his goodness. I trust that it is the beginning of better things for you, Madge." Lilly continued to mend rapidly, and on asking for Madge, she said, " I do not see you so plainly as I used to, sister, but I suppose it is because I am weak ; but I know, Madge, how sorry you have been for making me sick, and I want to tell 44 EDITH'S MINISTRY. you not to cry about it any more ;" and the sweet child drew her sister down to her, and kissed her affectionately. Madge wept now as much for joy, as she had formerly done for grief; and Miss Arnold hoped that the dearly-bought lesson would never be forgotten; but "can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?" has been asked by inspiration of the deeply-rooted sins of unrenewed nature. The answer can only be given in other equally impressive words of inspiration : " The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin," and that alone. No maternal counsel ; no judicious teaching ; no faithful, watchful friend ; no power of a strong will, could be found sufficient of themselves to work in Madge Clifford the change which grace alone could effect. Much anxiety was felt about the continued weakness of Lilly's eyes, and when it was found that she could not distinguish pictures which had once been so familiar, it was feared that her sight was seriously affected. The dimness increased daily, until at last it was declared by her physician, that Lilly was incurably blind. It was fearful to behold the agony of Madge. Lilly's fal- tering step and beautiful but sightless eyes, were a perpetual reproach to the poor child. When little Lilly first realized her misfortune her patient sorrow was touching in the extreme. " Mamma, shall I never see the bright sun again, or the beautiful flowers ? Shall I never see your dear face any more ?" "It is God's will, Lilly, and we must not complain." " Won't I be a great deal of trouble to you all, mamma ? I shall not be able to go about by myself, and then I cannot learn any more like the others ; but I will try to be patient, dear mamma, for your sake." " Don't talk about trouble, my child ; we all love you so much that we shall be glad to wait upon you, and there are many things which you can be taught to do, Lilly. I will get you some of the books made for the blind, and Miss Arnold will do all that she can for you ; and when you are old enough we will send you to an institution, where you can be taught everything." RALPH CAMERON. 45 " Mamma, don't let Madge know how I feel about being blind, it troubles her so much." " I will not, my dear ; she has been punished enough for her unkindness." From this day Mrs. Clifford's love for her blind child in- creased, and Lilly was almost her constant companion ; weak as Mrs. Clifford was, she devoted all the strength which she yet possessed, to interest and instruct the little afflicted one; the love between the two was particularly strong and tender. Madge was quite as much an object of pity as poor little Lilly, and Miss Arnold and the mother both hoped much from the state of mind which she manifested. Still, the governess was not very sanguine, as there seemed to be no decidedly religious feeling operating upon her heart. She appeared to be yet almost as perverse with others as formerly, and there was no particular reason to suppose that she was any more prayerful in her habits. Many motives besides penitence toward God might have produced her present state of feeling. Sympathy with affliction which she had created, seemed now to be the most powerful feeling. She yet stood aloof from childish intercourse; her desire for solitude became still greater, and none but Ralph Cameron could succeed in drawing the wayward child from her gloomy thoughts. Seeing how sad she was, and sometimes even sul- len, Ralph sought by a variety of means to amuse the child, and was busy inventing schemes of outdoor enjoyment. At one time, an excursion into the woods, then a sail upon the water, then a ride on horseback, served to vary the daily amusements, and Madge began to dread the day when Ralph and Gerald must return to their college duties. CHAPTER V. ROSY DREAMS. DITH and Gerald were sad at the thought of parting so soon, and ere the day arrived, it was proposed that the young people, in company with Miss Arnold, should form a party to a favorite' place of resort, a neighboring country seat, about five miles off, now in a state of ruin. They were to go in boats, taking provision for the day, and after a pic-nic in the old park, were to return late in the afternoon. The party was composed of the Cliffords, the Fortescues, and Ralph Cameron. Gerald and Frank took charge of one boat, and old Uncle Ben of the second. They were plentifully provided with ham } cold chicken, tarts, etc., and set off about nine o'clock. It was a beautiful May morning, the fresh vivid green of early spring enlivened the landscape, and the bright sun gleamed over the whole scene, illumining the romantic Hud- son, which sparkled like diamonds in its brilliant rays. Had it not been for poor blind little Lilly, who wiped away a silent, tear when she heard the delighted exclamations of the party, and which also called up a deep sigh from sorrowful Madge, it would have been a day of unmixed pleasure. Ralph, with his usual kindness, talked with Madge, and tried to amuse her ; and she, nearly always gentle with him, found his society a sufficient source of happiness. When they 46 ROSY DREAMS. 47 arrived, Madge led little Lilly about, searched out the butter- cups and violets for the child, and tried by many pleasant means to beguile the tedious time. Gerald and Edith were seldom apart, and in pleasant strolls and confidential chat, the day passed too rapidly away. After much enjoyment they returned home late in the after- noon ; it was the last excursion previous to the young men's re- turn. After tea, Edith walked out alone ; she felt sad, for it was the last evening that Gerald would be with them, as he was to return on the next day to college. She strolled down the avenue until she reached the front gate ; standing there, under her favorite elm, in a pensive mood, she Avatched the setting sun as it gradually declined in all its glory, on the opposite side of the Hudson, and lighting up the whole landscape with brilliant tints of beauty. With her large flat thrown back, exposing all her face, she seemed to be in a deep reverie ; there must have been pleasant thoughts lighting up the beautiful face with such radiant smiles of happiness : the eyes were generally fixed upon the glowing landscape, but occasionally they would droop, when a deep blush overspread her face at the remembrance of some words whispered that day for the first time, by Gerald For- tescue. The glowing clouds on which she gazed, chasing each other over the landscape, were not more beautiful than the rosy tints which illumined her lofty countenance ; but with this dif- ference, the former were declining glories, the latter wore the first enchanting tints of young affection's rising morn. As she stood musing silently, for some time, she did not observe a figure running rapidly down the avenue, until a quick familiar foot- step announced Gerald's approach; she looked around, and encountered, with a blushing face, the gaze of Gerald Fortescue. " I am glad to find you here, Edith," said the young man. " I go to-morrow, and must have a few words with you ere we part. I used to think of you, dear Edith, with the same kind of feelings which I feel for sister Josephine ; but that clay has passed. I do not ask a sister's love, I ask more. Young aa you are, Edith, you are all the world to me ; and when I ask my heart if I can be satisfied with sisterly affection, it answers, 48 EDITH'S MINISTRY. no. May I hope for a nearer and a dearer place in your affec- tions?" " Gerald, I am scarcely more than a child ; and yet I know that none can ever occupy the place in my heart which has always been yours, and which no time can ever alter. You are much more likely to change than I." " Here, Edith, under this old elm tree, in sight of this glori- ous scene, where the Creator seems smiling upon us, let us pro- mise to love each other as long as life lasts; you shall be my dearest, loveliest Edith my strong, yet gentle adviser ; and I will be to you an unchanging and devoted friend." " It needs no promise, Gerald, on my part," replied Edith ; "for every walk and tree around Ravenswood speaks to me of Gerald. But you must acquaint my parents with this conver- sation, for we ought not to hold intercourse of this kind, with- out their knowledge." " When I am gone, Edith, will you visit this old elm tree, and think of Gerald ?" "I can certainly promise that," replied Edith ; "for I am not one that can forget my friends." They returned to the house slowly and thoughtfully. Their relations were changed ; and Edith, young as she was, felt that henceforth the name and happiness of Gerald Fortescue were indissolubly blended with her own. They were both very thoughtful ; and Gerald sought an opportunity that evening of speaking to Mr. Clifford. He was not surprised, but, although he highly esteemed the young man, and approved of the con- nection, he would not consent to bind either by any engagement while both were yet so young ; but placing no barrier in the way of their affection, he tacitly sanctioned the present state of affairs. Mrs. Clifford, believing that a pure affection is a source of great happiness, and, under proper restraints, not forbidden, but, on the contrary, pronounced blessed in the Bible, was pleased that two whom she loved so much, should so tenderly love each other. Edith retired to her room that night, feeling that she was ROSY DREAMS. 49 a different creature ; her thoughts were of Gerald and the future. Henceforth, with a nature strong as Edith Clifford's, there could be no change; her all of earthly happiness once embarked in one human heart, solemn should be the guardian, ship of such a secret trust. She meditated long, and prayed fervently for God's blessing on herself and Gerald, and closed her eyes dreaming of the happy future. At early dawn she arose to hail the rising sun. It was one of the most brilliant days of that lovely season. As she sat at the window, looking on the beautiful landscape, the pictures of the lovely spring morning without were not more enchanting than those within the young heart ; and the smiles which lit up her sweet face spoke of love, and trust, and hope. After her morning devo- tions, she descended to the breakfast-room, the very picture of radiant joy and youthful happiness. Soon after breakfast, the young men come over' to bid farewell to their friends; and as Frank was to accompany them to college, it added much to the sorrow of their parting hour. Edith and Madge were es- pecially sad ; for, after a stay much prolonged by little Lilly's illness, they felt the blank which the absence of the young men would bring more keenly. Josephine had come over to Ravenswood with the young men to see the last of Gerald ; for, masculine as she desired to appear, if there was any object on earth whom she nearly idolized, it was her brother Gerald. During the young men's stay at Oak Hall, Josephine had been deeply engaged in a new study and that was the inter- esting character of Ralph Cameron. She had seen but few of the other sex ; her gentle, poetic brother, Gerald, and the spor- tive, impetuous Frank, had been the only ones whom she had known intimately; but here was a youth of an entirely different stamp. His mind was of the highest order, and his education thorough. Independent in all his actions, he seemed born to command. Josephine, for once, acknowledged the presence of a superior, and involuntarily yielded him her respect. One thing, however, puzzled her: with all his strength, his piety was a subject of the greatest wonder. She could not sec how it was possible, that a mind like his should bow itself down at 4 50 EDITH'S MINISTRY. the shrine of what she deemed superstition. Fearless in the expression of her ultra sentiments, in the presence of Ralph she was abashed, and several times detected herself in endea- voring to conceal her real thoughts from him, for fear of los- ing his good opinion. When alone, she would take herself to task for her weakness, and resolve that she would not be so governed by so young a man but it was all in vain ; a glance of his bright eye, the clear, decided tone of his voice, when expressing with manly boldness his noble sentiments, were enough to dissipate all her boasted courage and independence. " Could it be possible," she would ask herself, " that she, the proud, boastful Josephine Fortescue, was really afraid of Ralph Cameron ?" Then again, when she saw his kind devo- tion to little Madge Clifford, an unattractive child, she would sometimes detect herself in wishing the child far away. She saw her talents, but she could not imagine what Ralph saw in her, to draw his attention constantly away from herself. She had never seen any one with half the strength of Ralph's character, and yet with all his power, his goodness led him to devote himself to this little girl ; certainly with no other desire than to do her good. Could she only hope to be the friend of Ralph Cameron, she felt as if he would improve her character, and yet the thought was instantly hushed. These reveries had frequently disturbed her ; what could it mean ? And now in the day of parting, when Ralph was to leave them, " why should she feel so sad ':" His whole attention was given to Madge ; and while she felt that she would have sacrificed much to gain his friendship, she realized that a homely, perverse little girl had supplanted her. As thoughts like these passed through her mind, she was stand- ing leaning near the window. Ralph approached her, and ex- tending his hand in a friendly manner, said, " Farewell, Miss Fortescue. You will remember what I have said to you con- cerning the things of another world." With more humility than she had ever felt before, she re- plied, " I will endeavor to do so." She turned away to hide her emotion, for she was too proud ROSY DREAMS. 51 to show to others that deep interest which she painfully realized ^ she felt in Ralph Cameron. Though aiming to be in all re- spects a strong-minded woman, Josephine Fortescue had dis- covered that she possessed a woman's heart. The carriage was standing at the door to convey them away. Gerald, with a tearful countenance, wrung Edith's hand ; Ralph whispered Borne kind parting words to Madge, and Frank, whose warm heart was really full of grief, to hide his emotions, was giving his parting injunctions with an air of lightness which he did not feel. " Farewell, Edith ! Good-by, Madge ! You'll be glad when I am gone. Now don't say that you are sorry, for I cannot believe you. You must all write me family letters." The mother drew her only son down close to her, and while n-hispered earnest, parting words, he could no longer hide ^s which burst 'from his eyes, and streamed down his ^'awing his cap down over his face, he hastily en- - riage, and in another minute, the caps waving > windows, until it passed out of the avenue, orone. Mrs. Clifford sent for Edith to come departure, and with a mother's warm a. n soiled her sweet daughter with re- gara "I \Vv '' : ; u h, against building too much upon earthly hit i Know more of life than you do. Do not allow you vvell too much upon thoughts of Gerald, or to expect too i i.ch from man ; yours is a strong, deep na- ture ; he is different, he is more of the dreamy and imaginative, and may not be capable of the strong enduring love which you can bestow ; love God supremely, and all earthly objects in entire subjection to His will." " Thank you, dear mamma, for your kind advice. I am. not a love-sick girl, but hope that I shall be just as anxious to perform my duties and improve my mind as ever, for now I have a new motive in my desire to prepare myself for future relations in life; but, mamma, I cannot conceal from you or myself, that should I be disappointed in iny estimate of Gerald 52 EDITH'S MINISTRY. Fortescue, for this life I should be shipwrecked ; for should I for one moment see that his affection for me was on the decline, I would instantly restore him his liberty, though my own peace should be the sacrifice." Mrs. Cli fiord looked with admiration, mingled with trembling, on the proud expression of Edith's countenance, as she uttered these words, and they sank deep into the mother's heart. After Gerald's departure, Edith re- turned with her usual interest to her studies, for her character was too well disciplined to allow her to waste her time on mere reveries. After the duties of the day, she frequently repaired to the trysting tree, where she had promised to remember Gerald ; there she frequently perused his letters, which came regularly, filled with expressions of devotion, and often asking for her advice upon subjects of interest. Poor little Madge soon sank back again into her old habits of silence and gloom ; deprived of Ralph Cameron, she repelled all others, and simply performed her duties, and attended, to her studies, because he had laid down a plan for her, which she most faithfully adhered to. To little Lilly alone, she was affectionate; regarding her as the victim of her unkindness, she sought, by every means, to render her life less lonely and sorrowful. Towards Blanche and Adele she was still morose and envious ; they tried to make her believe that they could love her, but all in vain. Madge idolized the beautiful, and coveted its possession for herself with such intense longing, that she still regarded the exceeding loveliness of Blanche Clifford with bitter envy ; and forgetting that she might be just as much beloved for moral beauty, she pined after the unattainable, and neglected that which was ever within her reach. Adele's sportive, sparkling nature was equally an object of envy, for Madge saw that everywhere she was welcome, and that her silvery laugh and merry jokes were the life of every circle where she moved. Miss Arnold was sadly tried when she saw a return of the old infirmities, but wisely she refrained from making them too ROSY DREAMS. 53 much the subject of remark ; she instructed faithfully, prayed earnestly, and observed that whenever Madge received a letter from Ralph, for days its effect was visible in the efforts which she made to overcome her faults, and improve her character ; but suddenly some temptation would arise, and Madge would be again overcome, and for weeks the fit of sullen gloomy despair would follow. Edith's fine character and noble intellect daily strengthened ; but still there was the one root of bitterness which often strained her best performances ; there was yet lacking the one thing needful that " ornament of a meek and quiet spirit," without which all else is comparatively valueless. She was ( ui^cientious, truthful, high-minded ; but the heart was not wholly given to the Lord Jesus, to be his alone, and ^d after his holy image. 13 gave promise of much sweetness and innocence of nit her principles were feeble. She was easily in- others. The present society was the mould of her ' watchful friends feared that this vacillating, ht prove a serious hindrance to all moral 'Ued Edith, and looked up to her with as she felt for her mother. So great "" -vbody, that her efforts frequently brou t of falsehood ; and her watchful governt. ^r, and endeavored to guard this weak t charao ' -inche feared Miss Arnold, because she , ttnatffr .ood her character. Not so with Adele; rack .untness, her perfect trans- parency was her c. at her giddiness often brought her into difficulty. (So N -. as her mirthfulness, and so keen her sense of the ludicx , that Miss Arnold feared that she would make many enemies in her path through life, and en- deavored to restrain and guide her merry, thoughtless little pupil. There was one redeeming quality, and that was her warm, affectionate heart; through that channel, which was ever open to those she loved, there was always free access to the conscience of Adele Clifford. CHAPTER VI CITY COUSINS. N consequence of living in, the country, the children had not many associates, nor did they the need of society, for their own family circle vas a happy one, and the means provided for their recreation, as well as their instruction, was abundant. There were a few neighboring families only, whose acquaintance Mrs. Clifford cultivated. She had one sister in New York, Mrs. Morris, who had two daughters, the elder, Sophy; the younger, Eleanor. The mother was a lady of high fashion, entirely devoted to the vanities of the world. Her children, of course, were educated in an artificial manner, and were taught that fashionable edu- cation, fashionable society, and fashionable dress, were the only things worth attending to. She did not often visit Mrs. Clifford, for they had no sympathies in common ; but as she had heard sad accounts of her sister's declining health, she wrote that she and her daughters would pay a visit to Ravens- wood. Mrs. Clifford answered the letters, stating that she would be glad to see her, and that the carriage would be in readiness to meet them at the landing, at the time appointed ; but she dreaded the power of their example upon Blanche and Adele. Edith she believed far above their influence. On the following evening, as the guests were expected, the 54 CITY COUSINS. 55 children were all arrayed in simple dresses, with neat silk aprons, to meet their fashionable cousins, one fourteen; the other twelve years old. When the carriage drove up, Mrs. Morris, dressed in the very highest fashion, descended with some difficulty, for her enormous hoops and heavy flounces filled up the seat of the carriage. The two children were equally loaded with dress ; and when they entered the drawing- room, with their mincing step, hands crossed in front, and heads thrown back, Adele could scarcely restrain her disposi- tion to laugh, they reminded her so much of caricatures which she had seen in the print-windows of New York. Blanche was rather more impressed by their self-important manners. Edith was too polite ever to forget the courtesy of a lady ; and Madge was too demonstrative to affect anything more than she really felt. Mrs. Clifford received her sister >ctionately, and they were all shown up to their rooms to re for tea. 1 they had left the room, Adele sprang from her seat, Panels, threw back her head, and commenced mimick- Blanche could not help laughing, see such frights ?" said Adele. >r dresses are elegant," replied Blanche; I post a great deal of money ; and their i. they could run to save their lives. I should i fence, with their high-heeled boots, the oops," said Adele. "I am going to hav -\\, in^id I tell you." "Take care, . ; "mamma will be dis- pleased if you ma ,-ins." "Oh, I won't do ,ust a little fun," answered Adele. , v . Madge, who overheard f ue talk, said, "I do not think that they are worth anybody's notice; they are a pair of affected simpletons, and I am not going to put myself out for them." When the tea-bell rang, the guests swept into the room in full dress, and the young ladies now appeared in thin muslin, 56 EDITH'S MINISTRY. with low neck and short sleeves, and a profusion of elegant jewelry. By the side of Mrs. Clifford's group of natural children, so simply educated, and arrayed in such a plain and childish nuinner, they presented a strong* contrast, and evidently looked down upon their country cousins with much contempt. The children brought out a variety of games, and endeavored to amuse them ; but they seemed to have no taste for any such. In historical games they betrayed profound ignorance, and others were too childish. When asked to favor her cousins with some music, Miss Sophy, with an affected manner, pro- ceeded to the piano, and moving the stool far away, seated herself at a distance, stooping over from her waist, in a most ridiculous position, while, raising her hands with a sudden jump to a great height, and then, running her fingers over the keys in a dashing, furious manner, she thought that she was making a great impression; but when she commenced singing from an Italian opera, throwing up her eyes, shrugging her shoulders, and lisping out in one minute soft, languishing tones, and then screaming at the top of her voice most unmusical notes, and finally dying away in long untimed trills and shakes, Adelc could scarcely restrain loud laughter; if her sisters glanced towards her for an instant, her languishing looks, and absurd faces, the quick imitation of Sophy'-; attitude, when none observed her but her sisters, were irresistibly comic, and every moment they feared a loud explosion. Madge looked on contemptuously. Blanche was somewhat overawed, as she supposed that this was singing of the highest order. After this grand performance, there was another pause, and the chil- dren could not imagine what to do next. The young ladies began to yawn, as if tired of their companions. "How do you amuse yourselves in New York?" asked Blanche. " When we have company, we always invite some boys, and then we dance all the evening. I cannot imagine how you amuse yourselves without dancing." " Don't you ever waltz with little girls ?" said Adele. CITY COUSINS. 57 "Yes; but we don't care for such dancing, there is no fun in that." " If you will play for us, we will show you how we waltz," said Sophy. Blanche sat down to the piano, and while she played the girls fluttered and swam about the room in the latest approved style, thinking that they were astonishing their country cousins. Adele was almost convulsed with laughter, and longed to show off the performance of the evening. After they retired, Adele threw up her hands, and, laughing immoderately, said : " And these are the fine ladies of New York ! I hope I'll never be a lady." Next morning, in compliment to their guests, Miss Arnold ^rave a holiday; and soon after breakfast, the girls invited ir guests to take a walk. Attired in elegant, expensive with delicate, high-heeled boots, and fancy bonnets, - girls met their cousins, arrayed in suitable style for l he country. Adele, in high glee, led them first mien, and then across the fields to a neighbor- \ they reached the field, there were a number nd the city belles were dreadfully fright- c 'he animals look towards them. Sophy slux ^m, and ran as fast as her long dress woulu T icn she perceived that a cow was pursuing vith terror, and ran towards the fence. " How sha. " I'll show yo ith one foot on the rails, in her short dress, , . a over on the other side, where she stood lauj, , s embarrassment. " I never climbed a . my life, and I shall ruin my dress if I attempt it," s;. ,-ophy. " You had better try, Sophy, the cow is coming fast," an- swered thoughtless Adele. After many awkward efforts, she succeeded in rolling over the fence; but her flounces were ripped off, and her delicate 58 EDITH'S MINISTRY. boot was torn. Adele could not keep from laughing, as she saw the harmless old cow standing at the fence, looking on demurely at the mischief she had done. " Do let us go home," said Sophy, " I am sick of walking in the country." Adele, thinking that she had enjoyed enough fun for one day, consented. Miss Arnold reproved her for leading the young ladies through the fields, for she strongly suspected that it was done purposely for sport. It wag certainly very rude treatment of a guest, but Adele thoughtlessly followed her inclinations. The girls seemed offended, for they began to suspect Adele's agency. When they returned, they retired to their own room, to repair the mischief which had been done, and Blanche and Adele ran up to the school-room. " Come, Blanche, play me a waltz, I want to practice," said Adele, and seizing little Lilly by the waist, she flew off into a must ludicrous caricature of the waltz of the evening before. With her head thrown on one side, her eyes bent affectedly down on the floor, and her languishing attitudes, it was a perfect imitation of what she had witnessed, only somewhat exaggerated. Then she flew to the piano, and dragging out the stool, seated herself in imitation of Miss Sophy; and then throwing up her eyes, and imitating the fingering, or rather the hammering, she commenced an Italian opera, with sounds resembling words, lisping, screaming, and quiver- ing in a perfect agony. Blanche could not restrain her laughter ; even Madge was led to join the sport ; and Miss Arnold, who had witnessed all the performance, could scarcely command herself enough to reprove the child for her want of hospitality. " Adele, have you not forgotten that Sophy is your guest ?" said Miss Arnold. " No, I have not ; she does not see me, and it can do her no harm," answered Adele, in self-defence. " It is wrong, Adele, because it is a violation of that golden rule, which should regulate all our actions; it is not doing as CITY COUSINS. 59 you would be done by; and then, Adele, her folly is not all her fault : her mother is chiefly to blame, and I am inclined to think that if she had proper influence exerted over her, she might make a fine woman." " I cannot help laughing, Miss Arnold, it looks so funny to see such a young girl trying to act like a woman." Blanche was much more impressed by a sense of their conse- quence, and when alone with the girls, expressed her sorrow at her unfashionable education. " Mamma, has such strange notions, she seems to forget who we are, and is just bringing us up as plainly as farmers' daughters." Blanche blushed as she said this, for she knew that all the accomplishments and refinements of life were allowed, provided they did not interfere with Mrs. Clifford's ideas of consistency. Blanche was very fond of dress, and often felt discontented with her simple attire, especially since she had seen her aunt's mode of dressing her children. Sophy and Eleanor took great pleasure in showing her all their finery and jewelry, and told Blanche that they hoped their Aunt Clifford would let them come and pay them a visit ; she should then see New York life. Mrs. Morris frequently expostulated with Mrs. Clifford about her modes of education. "What do you intend your children for, Mary? Do you forget that they are Ravenswoods ?" said Mrs. Morris. " I do not, my sister ; nor do I forget that they are God's children in one sense, given up to his service in Christian baptism ; and endeavoring by God's help to keep my vow, I am training them for usefulness here, and for heaven hereafter." " What will you do with them when it is time to bring them out?" asked Mrs. Morris. . " Bring them out, where ? Into the gay world ? If that is what you mean, Ellen, I shall never bring them out ; it is my constant care to keep them aloof from the enchantments of a worldly life," was Mrs. Clifford's consistent answer. " Whom do you suppose that they will marry ?" asked her sister. 60 EDITH'S MINISTRY. " That will be answered by a wise Providence, Ellen. I will endeavor to do my duty, and bring them up for that station of life in which God has placed them; if he designs them for heads of families, he will provide companions ; and if not, they can be useful and happy too, without an establishment, for that seems to be the great idea now among fashionables of the sacred institution of marriage." After an intermission of a day or two from their studies, Miss Arnold assembled her young charge again in their school-room, and inviting Sophy and Eleanor to join them, she saw by their lively interest in the instructions which she gave that they were two fine girls, spoiled by a false edu- cation. " Mamma, I am really ashamed of my ignorance," said Sophy, to her mother; "there are Madge and Blanche, and even Adele, who have more knowledge of the world around them, than all that I have ever heard in my whole life ; they talked to Miss Arnold to-day about the old kings and their courts, as if they had really visited their ancient kingdoms. She was reviewing their lessons to-day, and their knowledge of their own country is enough to shame half of the girls in Mad. La Gree's academy ; they write beautiful letters, speak French, and draw exquis- itely, and I shall never have such a high opinion again of a French boarding-school, since I have seen Miss Arnold's school- room." Mrs. Morris was struck by Sophy's remarks, but still she mentally resolved that her children should be educated in a manner worthy of the old Ravenswoods, and though she saw that in all that was solid and excellent her sister's modes were fur superior, yet she was willing to sacrifice all to the shrine of fashionable worldliness. After spending a few weeks with Mrs. Clifford, Mrs. Morris prepared to return to New York, in order to make ready for a jaunt to Saratoga, where she usually spent part of her summer. The girls had become attached to their cousins, and were really sorry to leave the pleasant home of Ravenswood, for the busy, bustling life of New York, even in the Fifth Avenue. Blanche CITY COUSINS. 61 and Addle had rattled on about Frank, and Gerald, and Ralph, until the girls were curious to see those wonderful young men, and were sorry that they had not delayed their visit until vacation. The sisters parted sadly, Mrs. Clifford mourning over the worldliness of her sister, and Mrs. Morris impressed with a conviction that her sister Mary was hastening rapidly to that " bourne from whence no traveller returns." CHAPTER VII. THE TWO PASTORS. i^ EVERAL miles from Ravenswood lay the plea- *k sant village of N , where several churches of different denominations were located, and where persons living in the country generally attended. Mrs. Clifford was an Episcopalian, and from her youth had been a communicant in that church ; her family, consequently, had been reared in their mother's faith. In its early history, the rectors of St. John's had been good, useful men, who loved their own church, valued its services, but who preached Jesus Christ and him crucified, as the sinner's only hope. But after the publication of the "Tracts for the Times," in America, novelties appeared in many of the churches in the State of New York; and the rector of St. John's, the Rev. Mr. Singleton, became deeply affected with the new doctrines, claiming for them great antiquity. He was a dan- gerous teacher of error, for he was a man of talent and elo- quence, with popular manners, and very devoted and exemplary in his daily life. He had always been upon terms of close in- timacy with the Clifford family, and esteemed the mother of the household, as one of the most lovely and pious members of St. John's. Gradually the change in his sentiments appeared. His preaching, formerly of a plain, practical character, though 62 THE TWO PASTORS. 63 never very decided in its tone, now taught a mystical theology: baptismal regeneration; sacramental union with Christ; a rigid adherence to forms and ceremonies ; the keeping of saints' days ; quoting more from the fathers than from the word of God : all these were sadly significant of what must follow. The study of ancient ecclesiology; the fashion of ancient vest- ment, and long-exploded practices ; the burning of candles ; the decorations of flowers, and the introduction of ancient symbols among the ornaments of the church, were allowed to occupy too much of the time and attention of one in charge of immortal souls. With a heart beguiled from the simplicity that there is in the gospel, he began to urge the vestry to remodel the church; greatly to enlarge the' chancel ; to build an altar after the ancient model ; talked of chanting the service ; performed sin- gular genuflections during public worship, much of which he conducted with his back to the people ; and on communion days elevated the paten containing the bread, then bowing lowly before it, placed it on what he now called the altar, but which our fathers, for hundreds of years, had known always as the simple communion table. As introductory to the new order of things, he preached much about the ancient usages of the Church ; undertook to explain the spiritual meaning of all the trifles which he wished to introduce into the solemn worship of Almighty God. This pained the pious heart of Mrs. Clifford : for since she had known the preciousness that she had found in her Redeemer, she could never be satisfied with husks of man's devising ; she thirsted for the bread of life, and sometimes wondered where she could find the green pastures and the still waters of salva- tion. Many like herself were sadly disquieted, and were earn- estly praying for direction, in this state of affairs. About this time, a notice was given of an approaching con- firmation, and Mr. Singleton urged attendance, upon the rite of all who had reached the age of fourteen, without any explana- tion of spiritual qualifications: and seemed to regard the service as binding upon all who had literally, not spiritually, 64 EDITH'S MINISTRY. complied with the conditions of the Prayer Book ; urging its participation upon all who could say the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, without laying any stress upon that passage, which adds most significantly, "and are sufficiently instructed in the others parts of the Church Catechism, set forth for that purpose." Miss Barton, a young lady entirely under the influence of Mr. Singleton, was the Sunday-school teacher of Edith Clifford, who was at that time about fourteen. Believing that through the channels of the Church only and infallibly, salvation could visit the heart, she urged upon the members of her class, and Edith among the rest, to come forward to the solemn rite. The young girl had many serious thoughts ; she wished to be a true child of God, but although not spiritually renewed, she had enough light to fear that she was not a proper subject for the rite: but when urged by Miss Barton, and also by Mr. Singleton, she thought that she must conform to the regula- tions of the Church, and at last visited Mr. Singleton, with reference to the matter. She went to his study, with many misgivings, expecting to be questioned very closely as to the state of her heart before God; but when he simply asked her if she knew the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, she came away infi" nitely more sad than when she first went, wondering whether something more was not implied in the ratification of the bap- tismal vow ; but urged by her pastor and her Sunday-school teacher, she gave in her name as a candidate. Her mother and Miss Arnold, looking upon Edith as exceedingly con- scientious, thought that she would not take upon herself solemn vows without striving to keep them, and therefore offered no opposition. Edith's perplexity increased ; the more that she studied the engagements assumed, the ore she feared her unfitness; she prayed for guidance, but she was still com- paratively unenlightened. The time rolled around, until at last the eventful day arrived. Early in the morning she arose, and taking her Prayer Book, read the vows once more. They pressed upon her conscience with the weight of a mountain. THE TWO PASTORS. 65 She felt, as she examined them, that none but a true Christian could keep such solemn vows. Was she, then, a real heart-changed Christian ? Had she truly repented of all her heart-sins, as well as those of her life? Was she really trusting in the Lord Jesus Christ? Had she renounced the vain pomps and vanities of this wicked world ? Her heart trembled as she pondered over these solemn questions j she feared to take these vows upon her soul. Her agitation was so great, that, sick and faint, she was unable to dress, and went back to her bed. Several times she arose, and was wholly unable to prepare in time for church. When the period had passed, she recovered her usual feelings, and ever after was thankful to her Heavenly Father for what she always regarded as his interference, in preventing her from assuming a false vow. A large number was confirmed on that day, but Edith Clif- ford was not among them ; many, urged by injudicious friends, had taken vows which they never meant to keep. The Church was mutiplied, but not edified, by such additions. When Mr. Singleton called upon Mrs. Clifford, she expressed her views candidly and affectionately, and was extremely grieved at his open expressions of what she esteemed as fundamental error. He called her views, when applied to doctrine, Methodistical ; and to practice, Puritanical. She was deeply pained that the Church which she loved so intensely, should have such an ex- positor of its blessed doctrines and services; and sometimes wondered how the martyrs of ancient days would esteem these modern sons. The ministrations in the sanctuary became at last so offen- sive, that a number considered that it would be an improper exercise of charity to continue any longer in such a barren vineyard; they remembered that while the charity of the Gos- pel is long-suffering and kind, at the same time it " rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth." Deliberately, prayerfully, and in the fear of God, they with- drew from old St. John's, the chui'ch which they had loved so long, and formed a new organization of their own, calling it, St. Paul's. 5 66 EDITH'S MINISTRY. About thirty families joined the new congregation, and called a pastor, whom several had heard preach frequently in New York, and in their own village, the Rev. Mr. Berkely. He was person eminently qualified for the station which he filled, for while he was an uncompromising preacher of the simple truth as it is in Jesus, his character was so lovely and Christ-like, that he was the very one fitted to bear the storms of opposition. Having no church to worship in when he first came among them, they met in a public ball ; and though not surrounded by the impressiveness of a sanctuary dedicated to the worship of God, and used for that alone, when he first appeared .in the desk, there was such an air of deep solemnity about the pale, intellectual-looking man, who stood before them as their pastor, that all eyes were fixed upon him, and all hearts im- pressed by his appearance alone. But when he raised his clear voice, and said, in thrilling tones, " The Lord is in his holy temple, let all the earth keep silence before him," there was a solemn stillness in that audience, that might better be felt than described. He was a man of about forty, with a pale, gray eye, high, broad forehead, and large mouth, about which, at times, there played an expression of peculiar sweetness ; his thin, gray hair lay in long locks about his head ; his figure was slight in the extreme, and his step, as he quietly moved about, indicated delicate health. When he addressed his new charge, laying aside all the ceremony of recent acquaintance, he appealed to them, as members of the Redeemer's flock, whom he loved for Jesus' sake, and when he announced the principles by which he hoped to be governed, he begged their co-operation and their prayers. Making no allusion whatever to the church which they had left, in his prayer he remembered all who named the name of Christ, and prayed that all might be guided into truth. Having suffered the evils of spiritual starvation so long, the people were so thankful for the indications of God's favor, that they took hold of the new enterprise with great energy and THE TWO PASTORS. 67 simplicity of heart, and in a few months had the pleasure of taking possession of a new and beautiful church, where every accommodation was provided for a useful evangelical congre- gation. Mr. Berkely proved to be a pastor after the model of the New Testament, not only in the pulpit, but from house to house, and everywhere " teaching the things concerning the kingdom of God ;" his labors were greatly blessed, and quickly he gathered around him an interesting flock, devoted to good works, and daily adorning the doctrine of God their Saviour. While he loved his own Church, he loved Christ, which it set forth, still better ; while he revered its forms, he could worship his Creator at suitable times, without them ; while he loved especially the brethren of his own household, his large, warm heart throbbed strongly towards all others who bore the image of his Redeemer. Justification by faith in a crucified Saviour, sanctification by the Holy Spirit, the need of a holy life, the use of means of grace for the renewed soul, and sub- jects of practical piety, formed the burden of his preaching. He soon became warmly attached to the Clifford family, and none were more welcome at the hospitable mansion than the good Mr. Berkely. When he first took charge of the parish, and heard the story of Edith's delayed confirmation, he was greatly inter- ested, and his warmest Christian sympathies enlisted in her behalf, for he saw in her conscientiousness indications of the teachings of the blessed Spirit, which he doubted not would bring forth fruit unto everlasting life. What he aimed at was not simply to bring his young people forward to confirmation, but to prepare them for that solemn rite, by endeavoring to lead them to Jesus as their Saviour first, and then to the Church as their sheltering home afterwards. He loved the lambs of his flock, and when the young Cliffords saw his little carriage driving up the avenue at Ravenswood, many a time a joyous group might be seen running down the path to meet the good pastor, calling out, " Mamma, mamma, here comes dear Mr. Berkely." 68 EDITH'S MINISTRY. No sooner would he drive up, than all clustered around him to receive his kind salutations and his pleasant smiles. One would seize his hat, another his whip, a third a bundle of books, perhaps ; and little blind Lilly always contrived to get pos- session of the pastor's hand, who would gently lead her into the house. Seated in the library, on the good man's knee, while he patted her affectionately on the cheek, Lilly was a happy little girl; putting his hand in his pocket, he would draw out some nice fruit, or a bon-bon for the blind child ; and a few tracts or children's papers would make the rest equally happy. Even Madge loved good Mr. Berkely, for nothing but kind words ever passed his lips when speaking to her. Since the congregation had separated from Mr. Singleton, it had been more than two years, and brings us now to the period when Edith is more than seventeen. During these two years, Mr. Berkely had faithfully instructed and prayed for Edith ; he had watched with great interest the development of her character, and hoped that divine grace was operating on her young heart. He saw her failing, which was excessive pride, not of rank, or station, or beauty, or talent, for she possessed them all but pride of character; this, he well knew, must be brought into subjection, ere she could really become a true disciple of the meek and lowly Saviour. He watched over her with a father's tender care, instructed, guided, prayed for her and with her, and was daily cheered by the evidences which she gave of tenderness of conscience, increasing humility, peni- tence for sin, and simple faith in Jesus. One Sunday morning a notice was given that in six weeks the Bishop of the Diocese would hold a confirmation in the Parish of St. Paul's. All who had any interest in the subject of personal religion were invited to meet their pastor for pri- vate counsel and prayer. Edith listened with a deeply solemn- ized spirit. It was her most earnest desire to dedicate herself openly to the service of God. She acknowledged the claims of her Saviour, and felt now, though with deep humility, that she could assume these solemn obligations, and by God's help THE TWO PASTORS. 69 she trusted that she could endeavor to perform her vows. She inwardly resolved to seek Mr. Berkely. On Monday morning, having obtained the approbation of Miss Arnold, and the blessing of her dear mother, as she pressed her to her heart with a warm kiss, she rode over to N , a distance of a few miles. On entering the study, Mr. Berkely arose, and taking her hand, led her to a seat, saying, kindly, " I have been expecting you, Edith, though I have purposely avoided speaking to you, especially on the subject which I hope has brought you." " I have come with a trembling heart, Mr. Berkely, to ask your opinion concerning the step which I wish to take. When the Bishop's notice was read yesterday, I seemed to hear a voice saying to me, ' The Master is come and calleth for thee,' and I can no longer delay. I believe that I am called to follow Jesus. If I know my own heart, I have repented truly of my sins past, and trust only in Jesus for salvation." " How long have you been thinking of this step, Edith ?" asked the pastor. " For a long time ; indeed, ever since I was urged by Miss Barton to take the step. I am truly grateful to my Heavenly Father that I was prevented then, for I believe that I was wholly unprepared." " Do you feel prepared to renounce the world and its vani- ties, and to bear the cross after your Redeemer ?" "By God's help, I trust that I am willing," answered Edith. " What evidences have you of having passed from death unto life, Edith ?" " I love the things which I once hated, and hate what once I loved. I love my Bible, prayer, God's day, God's people. I prefer God's will to mine, arid am anxious to bring all my powers into entire subjection to his holy laws," answered Edith. " What are your feelings towards the Lord Jesus Christ?" "I trust in him wholly for salvation. I love his holy, heavenly character. I desire to be like him, and to live with him forever." 70 EDITH'S MINISTRY. " I trust that T can bid you welcome, my dear child, as a sincere fol lower of the blessed Saviour. None but the Holy Spirit could have produced these feelings ; and having com- menced the work of grace in your heart, I trust that he will bring you home in safety to his everlasting kingdom. Come to me, at all times, my child, in all your hours of weakness and temptation, and I will endeavor to show you the path of duty and of peace." Then kneeling down, he fervently com- mended the case of the young Christian to the Good Shepherd, and placing in her hand a copy of the " Pastor's Testimony," he saw r her kindly in the carriage which conveyed her home. That evening she wrote to Gerald, acquainting him with her decision, and in a few days received an answer full of affection, encouraging her in her new life, and cheering her with the in- telligence, that for months he had been meditating the same step, and hoped to obtain leave of absence at that time, that he might, with her, ratify his Christian vows. On the day before Easter, Gerald arrived ; and after tea the young people repaired to the old elm tree, where they had so often held sweet communion ; and now their conversation was of high and holy things. Gerald confided to Edith all his feelings and desires, all his fears and hopes ; and she, with a full heart, listened to the recital, for it established a new bond of sympathy between them, which they hoped would be eternal. As they walked arm-in-arm, slowly up the avenue, though the thoughts which filled their young hearts were elevating and purifying, and though their hopes were full of immortality, they had lost some of the rosy tints which illumined their first dream of earthly love, and which were mellowed, and some- what shaded, by the anticipation of the warfare upon which they felt they were about to enter. They could not read of the, Christian's armor, without feeling that there must be a Chris- tian conflict ; nor of the promises held out to tried and suffer- ing pilgrims, under the chastenings of their Father, without looking for life's vicissitudes. Though their journey thus far, had led them through green and shady paths, illumined by the bright sunshine, they saw THE TWO PASTORS. 71 the distant shadows, subduing the brilliant hues of life's early morning; but over all, was arched the bow of Christian hope ; directing all, was seen the strong wise hand of their Heavenly Fatl":r; beyond all, faith pointed to the river of life, and the everlasting union of saints with their Redeemer, and each other, in the temple of the New Jerusalem above. In the depths of Edith's strong heart, the old things of light and thoughtless youth were passing away, and the more profound emotions of love to God, and resolutions to live for his glory, were preparing her for the trials which lay before her. She loved God truly for Jesus' sake, but Gerald loved him most for Edith's. The next morning was Easter Sunday. It was indeed a resurrection morn : all nature smiled with the promise of re- turning spring; and the young Christians met alone, before they went to church, and mingled their prayers together. A large congregation had gathered ; the Bishop was seated in the chancel, and the good pastor conducted the services Avith unusual solemnity. When the time for the confirmation ar- rived, the hymn, " happy day, that stays my choice, On tliee, niy Saviour, and my God." was given out, and while singing the first verse, the candidates approached the chancel. Gerald and Edith knelt side by side, and while the Bishop laid his hands on their heads, uttering the affecting prayer, " Defend, O Lord, these thy servants, with thy heavenly grace, that they may continue thine forever," they felt as if God's blessing rested upon them in a peculiar manner, and their hearts were comforted by the thought, that henceforth they would tread the pilgrim's path together, until they reached "the everlasting kingdom." After the service they partook of the emblems of a Saviour's love, and with high and holy resolutions to live for God, they re- turned to their pews. The organ played sweet and solemn music as they left the church ; their thoughts were of Christ and heaven ; and clad with the panoply of the gospel, they went forth to the conflict. Josephine had consented to witness 72 EDITH'S MINISTRY. the services on that Easter-day, and though still averse to religion, she was impressed by the affecting scene more than she was willing to confess, and could say but little when Gerald returned home ; added to this feeling, the thought that Ralph Cameron was also a professing Christian, sealed her lips, and she forbore remarks which she might otherwise have made. On the following day, Gerald returned to college, and Edith to the faithful discharge of her new relations. Desiring to be useful, she took charge of a class of small children in the Sunday-school, and soon became deeply in- terested in her work. Mrs. Clifford's health still continued delicate, often very threatening ; on this account she seldom attended the house of God, but most generally remained at home with little Lilly. These Sabbath days were very happy seasons to the poor child, as then she was entirely alone with dear mamma, and enjoyed the sweet instruction that she gave. Bible stories, sweet hymns, and fervent prayer, occu- pied part of the morning; and then always supplied with some interesting story of youthful piety, she made the child very happy. She had been for some time employed in writing simple tales for her blind child, and these were always pre- ferred by little Lilly, after the teaching was over. " Now, dear mamma, one of your own beautiful stories. I do not like anything else half so well." Not being able to go to church twice a day, Miss Arnold and Edith gathered a class of poor children from the neighbor- hood in the afternoon, and instructed them. They esteemed it a great privilege to be taught by the ladies of Ravenswood, and much of the good seed of the kingdom was thus scattered. Mr. Berkely encouraged Edith in her efforts, and when he could spare time, rode over to visit them, and pray for a blessing upon their labors of love. He was very fond of sacred music, and would generally stop in Mrs. Clifford's room, where Miss Arnold would favor him with some of her beautiful perform- ances. He always had some kind word, or gracious promise to leave with Mrs. Clifford, which was as a cordial to her drooping spirit for days together. THE TWO PASTORS. 73 Who can estimate too highly the blessed influence of a good pastor? While we are forbidden to give them the love which belongs to God only, we are told to " esteem them very highly in love for their work's sake ;" and truly we should ; for is not their work a blessed employment? Co-workers with God in man's salvation ; guiding the tempted, cheering the sorrowful, comforting the dying, sanctifying the nuptial tie, blessing in- fants in the Saviour's name, committing the dead to the silent tomb. How varied ! how intense the labors of a faithful minister ! How endless the demands upon his time and strength ! Who needs so much of the forbearance of his people, and their faithful prayers? Could those who take pleasure in censuring their pastors only know of the demands of one single day, instead of blaming, how often would their unkind, unreasonable words be turned into prayer! Even good Mr. Berkely knew something of these trials, and sometimes when speaking of them to a judicious friend like Mrs. Clifford, he felt that he might venture to show her a list of the demands of one day, which he had preserved as a matter of curiosity. Calls from his own parishioners, letters to write, a lecture to prepare, a funeral to attend, a society to meet, and visits to pay in distant parts of his parish ; perhaps in the midst of all, suddenly called out of town, to visit a dying person, all this repeated daily ; and yet there might be found in the parish of even this laborious man, censorious spirits, who could impugn his motives, undervalue his labors, and injure his reputation by hidden insinuations, perhaps at the very minute, when he might in his private study, be bearing before the mercy-seat, the very name of the slanderer. O! that the petition, " Brethren, pray for us," might sink into the heart of all such, and turn their thoughtless censures into earnest prayer. CHAPTER VIII. AUNT PRISCILLA. COME here, Blanche ! What odd-looking gig is that coming up the avenue?" said Adele, as, running to the window, they observed a large old-fashioned vehicle, perched up high in the air, moving towards the house. As it drew nearer, Adele espied a queer, antiquated-looking figure, driving ; on a closer inspection, she said, " I do believe that is old Aunt Priscilla that we have heard so much about. What a bore she must be ! She'll be a grand quiz for me, that's certain!" By this time the gig had been driven up to the door, and a most remarkable-looking personage dismounted, and fastening the horse to a post, she proceeded into the house. She was tall and thin, with a sallow complexion, and an aquiline nose. She wore a pair of old-fashioned spectacles, through which peered two small, piercing black eyes. She was clad in a dark cotton dress, a large collar, and a black cloak that enveloped her whole figure. Thinking hoops very wicked articles, which would have been fined by the good old Puritans, she utterly repudiated them, fearing their effect upon her religious charac- ter almost as much as Sabbath-breaking and kindred sins, and therefore presented a peculiarly long and lank appearance. Her bonnet was large, with a deep face, something in the shape of a coal-scuttle, of the peculiar fashion worn thirty years 74 AUNT PRISCILLA. 75 before, and which, for conscience' sake, she had never altered. Over this bonnet she wore an oil-cloth covering always, in travelling ; and when walking, was never seen without a blue cotton umbrella. She had large pockets in her dress, which contained a curious medley of convenient articles. In one, were her hair-brush and comb, her tooth-brush, snuff-box, spectacle-case, large purse, and a pair of glasses for out-doors. In the other, were a small pocket Testament, an old hymn book, a large knitting-bag, another bag containing candies for good children, a ball for her cat, a bundle of tracts, another of patch-work, with needle-book, scissors, thimble, etc. With an umbrella in her hand, she rang the bell ; and when Uncle Peter made his appearance, she asked for Mrs. Clifford ; and altogether, he was much amused at the sight of the queer old lady. He showed her politely into the family-room, where Mrs. Clifford was sitting, and ran off, as quickly as he could, into the kitchen, for fear of laughing outright. " Well, Mary, I've corned a long journey to see you, for I heerd you was sick, and I have brought a lot of my physic, which I know will do you a heap of good ; but let me look at you. Well ! you do look a little pale and thin, and I don't like the red spot on your cheek, nor the shiny look of your eye." " I am glad to see you, Aunt Priscilla ; you are very kind to come so many miles to see me, and I will try to make you as comfortable as I can." With these words, Mrs. Clifford rang the bell for a servant, which was answered by the same old servant. " Uncle Peter have the horse and gig put up, belonging to this lady, and be sure to attend to the horse well before he goes into the stable : he has come a long journey." " I will go out myself, Mary, for I have a heap of things to bring in;" and away trotted Aunt Priscilla, after old Peter. First, her trunk was taken off the back of the carriage, then two or three bandboxes, one large box of medicines, a large basket, with the lid carefully tied down, a small one, 76 EDITH'S MINISTRY. secured also, then a cage containing a noisy parrot, then a large jar of apple-butter, and a box of fine apples. When all were carefully taken out, Aunt Priscilla, picking up the largest basket herself, took it into Mrs. Clifford's room, and on un- tying it, out sprang a King Charles spaniel, who frisked and frolicked around his mistress as if delighted to regain his liberty. " Go speak to the lady, Snip," said Aunt Priscilla ; and away went Snip, on his hind legs, to salute Mrs. Clifford, who took the little paw, and received in return a gracious kiss upon her hand. On opening the second basket, a large cat made its appearance. " This is Uncle Toby, Mary. You have no idea what a smart thing it is. I could not leave the poor things at home, they'd a grieved themselves to death away from me, so wherever I goes, Snip and Toby always follow ; then Polly must come too, so here are my three pets. I takes care of all myself ; all I want is some cream for their breakfast, and some- thing nice for their dinner. They sleep in my room, and I won't let them trouble you." At this moment Edith entered the room. " Which one is this, Mary ?" "This is my eldest daughter, Edith," replied Mrs. Clifford. " What did you say, honey ? I can't hear you ; I'm very deaf," said Aunt Priscilla ; and Mrs. Clifford had to repeat her introduction ; then addressing Edith, she said, " This is your father's aunt, my child ; many a day and night has she nursed him when a baby, waited on him when a little fellow, and been a kind friend to him all his life. You will be especially atten- tive to Aunt Priscilla, if you wish to please your father." Edith advanced with a pleasant manner, and allowed the old lady to kiss her affectionately, although she was far from attractive upon close contact, for she was an inveterate snuffer, and was by no means particular in keeping her face free from the offensive powder "Well, surely, Mary, she's a nice-looking girl, the very spit of her father. I shall love her, I know, for his sake." " Edith, will you see Aunt Priscilla to her room ? She may want to change her dress ; she must be tired." AUNT PRISCILLA. 77 And the young girl kindly led her to a pleasant chamber, and saw all her treasures placed suitably away. She was some- what amused on seeing the bed for Snip on one side of Aunt Priscilla's, and one for Toby on the other. Poll was hung up against the wall, and being rather tired, soon composed herself to sleep. After providing her with every comfort, Edith re- turned to her mother and heard her aunt's history. She was the great-aunt of Mr. Clifford, and had lived with his mother all her married life. Never having married, she had attached herself strongly to her niece's family, and though possessed of many peculiarities, had always been kindly treated for her real worth. She had many singular notions, which she maintained with great pertinacity, was a believer in signs and oincns, and had a great antipathy to the other sex, believing that all were fortune-hunters. Having lived all her days in the country, she knew nothing of the manners of city life, and esteemed everything wicked which did not accord with her own views of propriety. She had a great passion for attendance upon baptisms, weddings, and funerals, and esteemed herself much slighted if not allowed to have some directions to give on all such occasions among her neighbors. For many years, the list had been made out of persons whom she wished to attend her funeral, and where they were to walk. If one died, the name was erased ; or if one offended her, the place was changed with regard to precedence, or else cut off altogether ; moreover, her grave-clothes were kept constantly by her, and every spring were laid upon the grass to whiten. She had a great habit of talking to her friends about their place of interment, and ofter shocked the nerves of delicate persons by her rough remarks. She lived on her own little farm, surrounded by many comforts, and keeping one servant, old Sarah, who had lived with her manv years. None knew exactly what Aunt Priscilla was worth, but the neighbors generally thought that she was possessed of more than she was willing to acknow- ledge. With all her peculiarities, she had really a very kind and generous heart. Whenever a charitable object was on foot, 78 EDITH'S MINISTRY. a new church to be built, a school-house erected, or a charity to be endowed, there were always some anonymous contribu- tions, scrawled in a miserable manner, which many suspected came from Aunt Priscilla. Having retained her love for her nephew, George Clifford, she came to see him once in a great while. So long had it been that Edith had forgotten her ap- pearance. When she presented herself at the tea-table, Adele could scarcely restrain her laughter. Dressed in a black silk gown, high-heeled shoes, and a plaited high-cornered mob-cap, and her thin lank figure, attended by Uncle Toby and Snip, she presented a ludicrous appearence. "Who is this?" said the old lady as she looked at Blanche. " This is my daughter Blanche," replied Mrs. Clifford. "And sure, is that her name? Well, this is a 'perty little critter, anyhow ! And this one, Mary ?" as she looked at Adele. " This is my daughter Adele, a merry little girl." " So I should think, Mary ; but she ought not to laugh at us old people, as I have seen her do this evening." Adele blushed and turned her head away, for she could not deny the truth of what the old lady had detected. " And this is my little Lilly, Aunt Priscilla. She is our dear pet," said Mrs. Clifford, as she led her around to the old lady. Aunt Priscilla wiped the tears away from her eyes, as she kindly laid her aged hand on the head of the blind child, and drawing her near her, kissed her soft cheek. It required all Mrs. Clifford's forbearance to endure some of the unpleasant habits of the old lady ; for she would take snuff at the table in large pinches, and what she did not use, she would blow away, and frequently it entered the eyes and sprinkling the plates of her neighbors ; and then the odor of her pocket-handkerchief was peculiarity offensive. When the bell rang for worship, Aunt Priscilla joined fer- vently in the exercises, and after it was over said : " Mary, I am glad to see that you have grace to bear the cross, and to own the Lord before your family ; but I'm afeerd that George is sarving the evil one." AUNT PRISCILLA. 79 At bedtime Edith led the old lady to her room, helped her to undress, and kissing her affectionately, bade her good-night. Next day, she was up betimes, and with her white muslin apron, ready for work, attended by Toby and Snip, made her way to the kitchen. The servants were alarmed at the sight of the old lady, as they did not relish the idea of so much in- terference ; but, accustomed to a stirring life, she proposed to make herself useful ; and for a commencement, mixed what she called an armlet, but so tough with flour, that no one could eat it. She pronounced the coffee too strong, and was going to weaken it, when the cook interfered, and protested against it being done. Uncle Toby and Snip were running about, thrusting their noses in everything, and Uncle Peter sat in the corner, rolling up the whites of his eyes, stuffing his mouth with his handkerchief, to stifle the laughter which shook his fat sides at the sight of the cook's indignation, her face blazing with anger, knocking about the cups and plates, and venting her spleen upon the pots and kettles. Finding the kitchen becoming too warm, Aunt Priscilla hastily took her departure, attended by her two pets, and did not soon venture into those stormy domains. Watching her oppor- tunity, as soon as she found herself alone, she commenced her investigation of Mrs. Clifford's state of health. " Are you troubled with a cough, Mary ?" asked the old lady. " I have been for a long time, but it does not seem to grow any worse." Aunt Priscilla leaned her elbow on her knee, placed her thumb and finger under her nose, threw up her eyes, and said in a very solemn manner, " Humph ! that's bad !" while she kept jogging her foot. Then, she added, " Do you have night-sweats, and fever in the afternoon?" " I used to have them more than now, but they still trouble me." Aunt Priscilla uttered a groan, and rocked herself quickly in her chair. 80 EDITH'S MINISTRY. " My child, you must take some of my medicines. They are all Ingin cures, and made out of yarbs; they have cured a heap of people that were further gone in consumption than you are." "Thank you, Aunt Priscilla, but as I have a physician, I think that I ought to obey his directions." " Well, child, I don't think much of your reg'lar bred doc- tors, specially in consumption. I think that they kill more than they cure. Mary, where do you 'spect to be buried ? I s'ppse here, at Ravenswood?" asked Aunt Priscilla. " All my plans for my burying has been made for twenty years. I think that it saves a heap of trouble for our friends," continued Aunt Priscilla. Mrs. Clifford was much annoyed, for she knew that no sub- ject could be more painful in her family circle than the one just broached. In the course of the morning company called, and Aunt Priscilla, whose curiosity was always active, made her way into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Renshaw and her daughter were in conversation with Mrs. Clifford. They were fashionable ladies and looked rather surprised on seeing such a queer-look- ing old woman in company with their hostess. Mrs. Clifford introduced Aunt Priscilla, who came up close to her niece, and screamed out, " Who did you say, Mary? Mrs. Reindeer?" "No, aunt, Mrs. Renshawr," calmly answered Mrs. Clifford, who saw that her guests, with all their politeness, were scarcely able to restrain their laughter. " Oh ! sure, Renshawr. I wonder if they be any kin to old John Renshawr, that used to work in my potato patch ?" By this time Mrs. Clifford began to feel very uneasy, and fearing that her old friend might meet with some rebuff, said, " Aunt Priscilla, I think that Edith wants you to show her how to knit a tidy. She has some leisure now, and you'll find her in the school-room." Ever ready for employment and unsuspicious she arose hastily, and hurried off to seek for Edith. Mr. Clifford was very kind to the old lady for he remembered an event which AUNT PRISCILLA. 81 happened many years before, when, but for her timely aid, he would have lost thousands of dollars; but, as Aunt Priscilla was staying with him at the time, she discovered the cause of his uuhappiness ; and early one morning, equipped in her dark cotton travelling dress, her scooped-faced bonnet, with her old blue umbrella, and mounted in her old-fashioned gig, she started off for home. On being pressed to stay she refused, saying that she would be back in a day or tw v o. At the end of the second day, her old gig was seen slowly coming up the avenue, and Aunt Priscilla had upon her countenance a peculiar ex- pression of satisfaction as she dismounted. After tea, Mr. Clifford entered his library. While ponder- ing over his troubles, and seeing no way of escape, suddenly his eye rested upon an old greasy pocket-book and a very large note, in which was scrawled, near the top of the envelope, " For my dear ncvey, George Clifford." When he opened it, to his surprise, there was inclosed a check for the exact amount which he needed, and all that was written within was, " Don't ask any questions. I see you are in trouble. I can help you. You are welcome to the money. I have nothing else to do with it but to help my nabors, and specially my nevey George. This comes from Aunt Priscilla." He had never forgotten the generous deed, and could always bear with her peculiarities (which were really sometimes very annoying), when he thought upon her real worth. Madge was rude, and often very saucy to the old lady, despised her cat and dog, and wished poor Poll sunk in the Hudson. " Aunt Silla, Aunt Silla, Poll wants her breakfast," was the constant cry in the morning ; and all day long the parrot was screaming and chattering at the very top of her voice. She was frequently brought into the dining-room, and during the dinner hour often deafened the ears of the family Avith her noise, and in a very short time screaming out the names of the household. Many were the mistakes made by Aunt Priscilia. On the first day that she came to the dinner-table, she ob- served the finger-bowls, and wondered that they should have glass bowls to drink out of. Finding the bowl filled with 82 EDITH'S MINISTRY. water, she soon drank its contents, which Uncle Peter speedily replenished. When Adele observed her emptying it the second time, she was nearly convulsed with laughter. It was filled again, and the old lady turned innocently to Uncle Peter, declar- ing " that she could not drink any more." The old man got out of the room as fast as he could, for fear of laughing out loud, and Adele was shaking with suppressed merriment. When Aunt Priscilla observed the family dipping their fingers into the bowls after dinner, nothing could exceed her astonishment. " Well, sure now, is this the fashion to wash the hands in drinking-bowls ? I think it's about one of the most ungenteel ways I ever seed." Blanche was generally polite in the presence of the old lady, for she desired the good opinion of everybody ; but she would join Adele in her absence in ridiculing all her foibles, although they had both heard the story of her kindness to their father. Aunt Priscilla was very much afraid of ridicule, and soon discovered that she was a subject of mirth to the thoughtless children. For a long time, for their parents' sake, she did not openly notice it ; but at last, one day she caught Adele dressed in her bonnet, with her blue umbrella, and screaming in Blanche's ears, "What did you say? Did you see Uncle Toby? Where's my Snip?" Blanche was laughing im- moderately, when in came Aunt Priscilla. " This is fine sport for young ladies, to be sure, making fun of an old body ; take care children : remember the bears that devoured the children for making game of old Elisha. I'll re- member this, mind I tell you ; you'll be sorry for making fun of old Aunt Priscilla, some day :" and away she went, leaving the children rather ashamed of their performance. Edith was universally kind, and Aunt Priscilla fully ap- preciated it. She loved the young girl, and esteemed nothing too much trouble, if it gave her pleasure. It required a great deal of patience to answer all her questions ; for, being so very deaf, she was continually asking, " What did she say? Did she .speak to me?" ard Edith, with real Christian patience, bore with the tiresomt old lady, and tried to make her happy. AUNT PRISCILiA. 83 Having observed the interest which Edith manifested in her 81111 day -school, Aunt Priscilla furnished her with means to purchase books, and often presented her with a five-dollar note, for additions to her own private library. She kept her eyes about her, and although apparently so ignorant, she had great discernment of character, and was deeply interested in the affairs of her nephew's family. During her stay at Ravens- wood, Gerald Fortescue paid a visit home, and Aunt. Priscilla soon perceived the attachment between the young people. " Mary, I don't think Ger'ld ought to have our Edith ; he's a weak youth, and I'm afeerd he'll not make her happy. She's what I call a rale fine, strong-minded girl ; not wishy- washy, like half the young girls, nor like Josephine Fortescue, for she ought to put .on pantaloons right straight, and a man's hat, and set up for a man at once ; but our Edith is a rale woman, and ought to marry a man that she can look up to ; and it always seems to me, that Ger'ld keeps looking up to her. Now that arn't the Bible rule, and I'm afeerd it won't work well." " They are not engaged, Aunt Priscilla," answered Mrs. Clifford. " Well, they love each other, and that's the same thing with Edith Clifford ; and, mind what I say, Mary, I'm an old body, but I havn't forgotten the days of my youth : mark my words, Edith will never love but once, and if she's disapp'inted it will pretty nigh break her heart." "I try to leave all these things with God, Aunt Priscilla. He will direct us, if we trust in him." " Mind I tell you, Mary, you must take good keer of Edith ; she's jist for all the world like me ; she'll never take to moro than one. Maybe I never told you about my young days, but I'll tell you now. When I was a young gal, Jedediah Turn- blestone came a courtin' me, and I thought a heap on him. He was a fine, tall young man, straight and slim as a young poplar, with eyes as blue as chany, and a skin as rosy as a piny, they used to say his hair was too red, but howsomever, I uever seed it ; I called it auburn, I b'lieve that's the word. 84 EDITH'S MINISTRY. He had a nice farm, which he owned clear of all heavy drags ; but he had a mother who was mighty proud on him, and she wanted him to marry a young woman that had jist come to stay with 'em awhile. Sally Jones had a handsome property, and I had nothin' then, so she coaxed and wheedled Jeddy. I seed she was a stealin' him away from me, and I was too spirited to say a word. I used sometimes to feel as if it would break my heart right out, but my stiff sperit fetched me through, so I made up my mind what to do. Now, Mary, I was all ready to be married. I had a big chest full of bed- quilts and sheets that I made myself. I had lots of piller cases and towels, and my wedding dress was all cut out ; it was a light drab silk, stiff enough to stand all alone ; but for all that, one night Jeddy came to see me, and says I, ' Jeddy, I 'spect that you like another gal more nor me. If you would rather take Sally Jones, I'm not the gal to stand in your way. I wouldn't have you, Jeddy, if your heart is with another.' Mary, do you believe it ? he looked glad, and said, ' Thank'ee, Priscilla. I think, somehow, I'd rather marry Sally Jones.' My heart was in my mouth, and I was a'most choked, but he didn't see it; he never know'd it, for I kept my head up, and went to his wedclin', and to the house-warmin', to make out I didn't keer. Now I've never taken to a man since, and this is jist the way Edith '11 do, and I want to save her the trouble of sperit which I had. " Then I want to ask you another question. What do you mean to do with that Madge, Mary? She's the greatest oddity I ever seed in all my days. What will she ever be good for ? She does nothing but pore over her books, and pout, and look sullen all the time. I declare, that sometimes I feel as if I could about knock her over." " There are times, Aunt Priscilla, when Madge deeply re- pents of her evil tempers ; and if we can only once convince her that she can be beloved, I hope much for her yet. She has the idea that every one hates her." "Well, and there's that pretty Blanche; I'm afeerd that face of hers will bring some trouble to this house. She's as AUNT PRISCILLA. 85 perty as any picter of an angel that I ever seed in my life ; but I don't think that she'll ever die of a broken heart, becase I see that she always thinks like them she's with; but she may make others feel a deal more than she desarves." " I try, dear aunt, to bring up my children in a Christian manner. I pray much for them, and I believe that the Good Shepherd will take care of them, and bring us all home to his everlasting kingdom." " That Adele puzzles me. She's always so brimful of fun and mischief, that I've never found out, yet, whether she has Ik any feeling. I don't think she can have much, when she can f make fun of an old body like me ; but sometimes these people that seem to be so merry, have a great deal in them that's rale and genuine. But Mary, you have a treasure in your daugh- ter Edith : she's the light of my old eyes, and the joy of my old heart, and while I live she shall never want a friend, and when I die, she shall always have reason to remember her kindness to Aunt Priscilla." CHAPTER IX. A PICTURE ON THE BALCONY. URING the summer vacation Gerald returned home ; Ralph was with him, and Frank also was at home. He had grown considerably, for a few months make a great difference in a boy. He was much improved, but was still the same sportive, teasing hoy; and after having been so long restrained, was continually in a gale of merriment among his sisters. Aunt Priscilla was a source of great amusement; and he frequently played practical jokes upon her, that displeased his parents exceedingly. The young people were much together. Edith paid many visits to the old elm tree, and in the sweet influence which she exerted over Gerald, commenced that gentle, holy ministry which hereafter blessed so many. Madge's icy manners and wintry aspect thawed beneath the sunshine of noble Ralph Cameron. Josephine Fortescue lost much of her arrogant, imperious manners. In the presence of Ralph she was silent and abstracted, and evidently acknowledged his superiority, and sometimes trembled under his disapproving glance. Gerald clung closely to Edith. Frank was the merry leader of every mischievous prank ; but, although exhibiting so much that was boyish and playful, Mrs. Clifford was pleased to hear from Gerald and Ralph such encouraging accounts of his standing at school, as a boy of fine talents. Blanche and 86 A PICTURE ON THE BALCONY. 87 Adele were in their element ; and even little Lilly partook of the general joy, for when the boys were at home, everything was bright and happy. One tine afternoon in summer, all had assembled in the garden at the back of the house. It was a charming spot, laid out in terraces, in which was planted a great profusion of iiowers, especially every variety of the rarest and most exquisite roses. It was of great extent, with winding paths, bordered with luxuriant shrubbery. In the more distant parts there were very fine shade trees, with summer-houses, rustic-seats, and statuary adorning the most retired portions. Near the house lay the flower-garden. On either side of the mansion stood noble trees, shading the wings, and imparting a rural appearance to the spot. Gerald and Edith were seated in a distant summer-house, enjoying a favorite book, which he was reading to her. Kalph was playing a game of graces with Madge ; and while she forgot herself in the exhilaration of the sport, her motions were free and airy, and her beautiful eyes danced with the delight she felt. Frank ran races with Blanche and Adele. When tired of play, the girls gathered a quantity of roses, which they made into graceful wreaths. Blanche ran off' with hers up to the balcony, and in her sportiveness, she looked there the very personification of girlish beauty and grace. Running roses entwined the columns of the balcony, and woven through the lattice-work, gave it the appearance of a beautiful arbor of delicate flowers. In the midst stood the fascinating figure. She was at this time a graceful child of twelve years of age. Her deep blue eyes were shaded by long, dark eyelashes ; her nose was Grecian ; her rose-bud mouth expressed all the varying emotions of her heart; around it lay countless dimples; and when she smiled, her lips disclosed rows of pearly teeth. Her complexion was of that peculiar hue which indicated delicacy of constitution, yet the rosy blush which mantled her sweet face, imparted fresh charms to her lovely appearance. Her hair was of a golden brown, which hung over her snowy neck and shoulders in rich profusion. Her figure was symmetrical, even at that 83 EDITH'S MINISTRY. early age. She was clad in a white dress, over which was thrown the wreath of roses which she had gracefully woven ; in her hands she held the basket which she had brought from the garden. As she stood there, scattering her flowers upon Madge and Adele, nothing could have been more bewitching than the lovely picture. Gerald and Edith were advancing at the moment towards the balcony. "Look, Edith!" said Gerald, "was there ever anything more charming?" " She is charming, indeed, Gerald," answered Edith. "Blanche, stand still for a few minutes," said Gerald* "just as you are ;" and taking out his pencil and paper, he rapidly sketched the enchanting vision that stood before him. " Have you done, Gerald ?" and she kissed the lovely hand as she said, "Thank you for the picture; I shall expect it when it is done, for dear mamma." " No, indeed, Blanche ; if I am successful, I shall keep it for myself; for I shall think a great deal of my first attempt at figures. You must come over to-morrow for your first sitting. Wear the same dress. I am very anxious to get to work." Aunt Priscilla was intently looking upon the scene, when Gerald stood sketching Blanche. She said to herself, " He'll make her as vain as a peacock ; and Edith had better take keer of her. When she's a little older, with her pretty face, and winning ways, she'll steal away Gerid's heart mark ray words. He's a weak brother, and Edith will find it out. She'll have to go through my experience yet." Edith chided her heart for the uncomfortable feelings that disturbed her, by Gerald's admiration of her little sister Blanche, and despised herself for the first feelings of jealousy which she had ever experienced. "What a miserable creature I must be?" said she, "to be jealous of a little girl ;" and she resolved to strangle the feeling in its very birth ; and by God's help she succeeded, and cheerfully helped Blanche off next morning, to sit for her picture. A PICTURE ON THE BALCONY. 89 Gerald succeeded beyond his expectation, at the first sitting; but he would not let any one see the picture until it was com- pleted. He was entirely engrossed by it, and for a time paid very short visits to Ravenswood, and really did neglect Edith for his new pursuit. Blanche was very anxious for the time to come, and always came home much delighted, and most generally with some little gift from Gerald. Edith felt herself sadly aggrieved, but her besetting sin would not allow her to let it be seen ; for, much as she suffered by Gerald's neglect, she was resolved to hide the misery, and to appear indifferent also. When he came over, after an ab- sence of several days, Edith received him coolly, and asked him, in an indifferent way, how the picture progressed. He saw the change in her manner, and was hurt. He answered in the same tone, "Very well," and no more passed between them that evening. They were both very unhappy. Edith was ashamed of her jealous feelings, and Gerald felt that she was unjust to him ; and yet neither would make advances. But Edith was too conscientious and Christian like to cherish this state of feeling. When examining the state of her heart before God, she perceived that the poison of jealousy had in- fused itself into her secret feelings. She knew and mourned over it as a sin against God, and under the guidance of the blessed Spirit, she cast it all away. The next day, when Gerald came over, she received him with her usual warmth, and when she had an opportunity, said, " Forgive me, Gerald ; I was unjust to you, but it has all passed away." " I have been to blame, also, Edith ; for I did not seek an explanation, but allowed the sun to go down upon our wrath," said Gerald. " What was the matter?" he continued. "I was foolish enough, Gerald, to feel displeased at the interest which you manifested in Blanche, and though I am ashamed to tell you so, I do it to punish myself for the folly." "You'll never feel so again, Edith, will you? Let our love for each other always be distinguished by its perfect trust," 90 EDITH'S MINISTRY. said Gerald. "I don't think that I could feel jealous of your affection for any one, for I do trust you so entirely." From this time there were nc more disturbances about the picture ; it went on rapidly, and Edith appeared as much inter- ested as Gerald. After the lapse of a few weeks, it was com- pleted, and Gerald invited Edith over to see his first attempt at a portrait. It was pronounced by all a grand success. It was Blanche Clifford, in all her fascinating loveliness of that day : her smile was there, and her beautiful eyes seemed to ask for love, from all who looked upon the charming picture. The sunlight of a summer afternoon was exquisitely delineated, and increased the brilliancy of the portrait, while the sweet flowers which she seemed scattering around her, were strik- ingly emblematical of the bright period of her young life. " How lovely, and yet how perfect, is the likeness, Gerald !'' exclaimed Edith ;" I think we may predict your future suc- cess, if this sweet picture is any indication of your talent. I wish you could visit the Continent, Gerald, it would improve you so much ?" " I hope for that pleasure some day, not very far distant ; for I can think of being nothing else than an artist, and I wish for the best advantages." The interest which Gerald felt in Blanche, seemed to be that of an affectionate brother, and she looked to him for guidance and protection from teasing Frank ; for though he loved his sisters dearly, he rarely missed an opportunity for a joke. Ralph was still an inmate of Oak Hall. He had discovered that Josephine possessed a powerful mind, but with his correct perception, he regarded her talents as all perverted, so long as she aspired to masculine pursuits. He scrupled not, as op- portunity offered, to express his views, and to point out to her the more excellent ways of the Bible. She listened respect- fully, not because she was convinced, but because she was deeply interested in the being who uttered these sentiments, and hoped at some future day to bring him round to her way of thinking. Before she was aware of it, she found, much to A PICTURE ON THE BALCONY. 91 her shame and mortification, that she had allowed Ralph Cam- eron to occupy a place in her affections, which she had never intended for any man. She was not only pained at the dis- covery, but angry with herself for yielding to such a weakness, and with Spartan firmness, resolved to punish herself for such folly. She kept aloof from Ralph, shut herself up in her own room, treated him with coldness, sometimes with rudeness, and often mortified Gerald, with the want of decorum with which she met her brother's guest. She succeeded in completely deceiving them both, for they felt that she utterly despised Ralph Cameron. Not so with Aunt Priscilla or Miss Arnold, who penetrated her disguises. When Mrs. Clifford would regret her rudeness, Aunt Pris- cilla would frequently say, " She's a sassy minx, but she don't fool me. I have seen her turn her head away to brush off a tear, which would come when she saw Ralph so taken up with our Madge. She don't think how I watch her. I can see through her." To Madge, Ralph was still the same kind brother, checking her waywardness, directing her talents, calling out her affec- tions, and in every way endeavoring to exercise, a good influ- ence over her. One summer afternoon he had traced her foot- steps to a distant arbor, very far from the house, where, seated at a little table, she was busily occupied in writing, not dream- ing that any one was watching her. She had a large portfolio before her, in which lay many loose leaves. She would write a few lines, then read them out loud, stoop down, and with Indian rubber, erase words, and write again. Then she would sit silently, with her expressive eyes turned upward, as if in- voking inspiration ; then with a smile, as though she had caught a beautiful thought from the upper skies, she would hastily transcribe it on her sheet, and then read it again aloud. Ralph did not wish to appear as a listener, and yet his curiosity was so much aroused, that he stood apart, and listening to the singular child, he discovered that she was writing most beauti- ful poetry ; and suddenly presenting himself at the door of the arbor, she sprang to her feet, and covered her blushing face 92 EDITH'S MINISTRY. with both hands. When Kalph attempted to touch her port- folio, she seized it violently, and exclaimed, "Oh, Kalph, don't touch it. I am so ashamed that you should have heard me. I can't bear you to look at all my foolishness !" Ralph seated himself quietly by her side, and taking her hand gently, he said, " Madge, am I not your friend your brother? Won't you let me guide you in your studies?" She burst into tears, and said, "But these are not my studies ; you would not approve of them." "Will you not let me see them, Madge? I will not chide you ; I will tell you what I think of them, and perhaps I can help you even here." Turning her face to him, she placed the portfolio in his hand, and said, " Ralph, you may take them all, but don't look at them now ; I could not bear to sit near you if you do." " Perhaps, Madge, God has endowed you with many talents ; if so, they must all be used for his glory ; for remember, that for all we must render up a strict account. If you will let me look into your heart, I may be able to direct you." Then turning the subject, he conversed cheerfully with the young girl for a few minutes, and rising, they walked for a long time in their favorite path, which lay along the beautiful river, in view of the most romantic scenery of the Hudson. Returning about tea-time, Madge flew up to her room to muse and wonder at the kindness of Ralph Cameron ; and he, with his portfolio, retired to read over the loose leaves of the curious collection. There were many papers which were abstracts of her studies, exhibiting great clearness of thought, and intelligent remarks ; others were sketches some of character, showing great dis- cernment, and some fancy sketches, displaving a vivid imagi- nation. There were also some beautiful fragments of poetry ; but the most curious and interesting of all was her journal, where her thoughts and feelings were freely expressed. Below, we will give a few extracts : "Saturday. This is a stormy day. The wind blows almost a hurricane ; the river is dark and troubled ; the boats are A PICTURE ON THE BALCONY. 93 tossing about on the high waves, and the vessels are rocking to and fro; the trees are cracking, and the branches are flying wildly about ; the water-fowls are screaming in the air, and the land animals are terrified by the war of the elements, running to and fro for shelter; and yet I like it all, for sometimes I feel as if there was just such a strife in me. Why am I so different from my sisters ? they are all merriment and glee, and I am always sad. I like stormy days, wild stories, and gloomy pictures ; and then it seems so beautiful when the storm is over, fc> watch the waves subsiding, the clouds rolling away, the sun struggling amid the murky sky, until, at last, the storm at an. end, there is perfect peace. Will it be so with me ? When the strife in my bosom is over, will there be peace at last? I cannot see that it will be so, for my heart is the seat of too much disorder, to hope for rest while it is unchanged. " Sunday. I have been to church to-day. I tried to wor- ship God, but I could not. My heart was wandering all over the earth. I felt no penitence. I have no faith, no love to God, nor for my fellow-creatures, for they do not love me. Only lialph loves me ; and though I am so ugly and unamia- ble, he is always kind, and never turns away from poor Madge. May God bless him for his goodness. "Monday. What a dreadful day it has been ! I have been perverse, passionate, disobedient. I determined that I would try to be better ; but as soon as a temptation in the school-room beset me, I yielded, and fell into great sin. There is no use in my trying to be good. What can be the reason ? "Tuesday. Miss Arnold was very gentle to-day. She never loses her patience with me, and mamma is always kind, but she does not love me as she does Edith, who is so very good, and Blanche so beautiful, and Adele so bewitching; no wonder she loves them better ; but God made me as I am, and I think that they ought to remember that. I felt sullen and unhappy, and stole away to my garret, with ray favorite, Shakespeare. How much he knew of the feelings of the human heart. I wonder what he would think of me ? I should not wish him to draw my picture. I fear that it would have been a frowning, 94 EDITH'S MINISTRY. homely girl, always discontented and unhappy. If St. Paul should show me my likeness, I wonder what he would write? I know that I am a strange girl, and not at all like any other. I don't know one that feels as I do. Nobody understands or pities me but Ralph ; and yet he never flatters me, he always tells me truth. A word from him or a look from his eagle eye, tames my proud spirit at once. " Wednesday. What a bright beautiful day ! All the land- scape smiles, the sunbeams dance upon the beautiful Hudson, and everything seems joyous ; even I feel happier to-day. Miss Arnold commended me for my lessons. She laid her hand so kindly on my head, and kissed me so affectionately as she said, ' Madge, you have been a dear girl to-day,' that I felt the tears come into my eyes, but I could not let her see them. Why ? Am I too proud? In the evening Ralph asked me to walk on the bank of the river. I went so cheerfully, and we had such a pleasant walk. He seems to understand all about me, and said, ' Madge, it has been a bright day, has it not ?' I knew what he meant. He did not only refer to the sky above, but to the world within. I smiled as I said, ' How do you know it, Ralph ?' He answered, ' I have only to look at your face, Madge, and I know all about it.' Then he told me how I might always have peace within, if I was only a real child of God. Oh ! Ralph, shall I ever be what you desire ? " Thursday. I went into the school-room this morning with good determinations. Blanche was provoking, Adele made fun of me. I became angry, and said something very passionate. Adele turned towards me, and said, 'Remember poor little Lilly, Madge ; your temper has destroyed her happiness for life.' Oh ! the cruel speech ! when I have so deeply repented of that dreadful act. It is that which has cast such a deep shadow over my whole life ; and when my own sister can be so unjust, and unfeeling, what is the use of my trying to do right? I receive no encouragement, and only excite dislike. I'll shut my heart again. It shall open to none but Ralph. I cannot pray, I feel so hardened. What is to become of me? "Friday. We were all in the garden this afternoon. Every- A PICTURE ON THE BALCONY. 95 body seemed happy ; even I felt lively, for Ralph was so kind as to play graces with me : the air was so delightful, the sun so bright, and the flowers so beautiful. Blanche was full of mirth. She ran up on the balcony in her sportiveness, and there she stood in her pure white dress, decorated with a wreath of sweet roses. How lovely she looked ! I thought of the bright angels when I gazed at her. Gerald was so struck, that he made her stand still, while he sketched the picture. Ralph was enrap- tured, and I thought, with a sigh, what a charming gift beauty is ; but Ralph turned around, and reading my thoughts, said, with one of his kindest smiles, ' Blanche is beautiful to look at; but it is better to be good and holy. All cannot be beautiful, but all can love and serve God. Don't court beauty, Madge, only seek for goodness.' What can be the matter? Edith did not seem pleased with the picture on the balcony. I wonder if she is jealous ? If she is tormented by this feeling, when she is so good, I need not be discouraged. " Saturday. The summer vacation is drawing to a close. Ralph will soon go away. I wonder if Josephine dislikes him. She keeps out of his way, she never speaks to him, but I think she can't dislike him. I suppose that he has spoken the truth to her, and she don't fancy that; but she must respect him. What shall I do when Ralph is gone ? I'll try to do as he wishes me to. He has given me a number of rules; they are all for my good. I cannot disobey him, he is so firm and un- yielding, and yet he is always so kind. What a blessing to have such a friend ! and I only a little girl of fourteen. Shall I ever love God as he wishes me to do ? Shall I ever overcome my evil temper, and be meek and lowly? How strange it would sound to hear it said that perverse, passionate Madge Clif- ford, had become an humble follower of the blessed Saviour; and yet I hope that I shall be just what he desires." Ralph read this artless journal with feelings of deep interest. It gave him increasing insight into the inner life of Madge Clifford, and confirmed all his opinions of her character. He saw a strong mind, with an equally strong will ; warm affec- tions, and a conscience tenderly alive to sin, but yet uneu- 9(j EDITH S MINISTRY. lightened as to the means of deliverance. He also perceived talents of such a brilliant character, that lie was assured, if only directed into a proper channel, would make her a noble, useful woman. The next day he called her aside, and restored her portfolio. " Madge, the contents are sacred. I see your struggles, my child, but must remind you that in your own unassisted strength, you will find your passions always the conqueror; but if you meet them in the panoply of the Lord Jesus, you will overcome them all, and come off more than victorious. I leave you soon, my dear child, but let me beg of you, Madge, to seek for strength where it can only be found, at the feet of our blessed Saviour. In daily communion with him, you will learn blessed lessons of humility and love, and will at last find rest for your tempted spirit." She raised her tearful eyes to the young man's face, and said, "Thank you, Ralph, for all your goodness to me. I shall never forget it, and will try to follow your advice." In a few days, the young men had all returned to college Life at Ravenswood went on as usual, with the exception that Mrs. Clifford's state of health became more alarming, and her physician ordered her in the autumn to Magnolia, to try the effect of treatment and climate on her declining strength. CHAPTER X. THE FAMILY CHAIN BROKEN. O A HOUSEHOLD united by such tender ties, the sight of the preparations which now began to be made for a first separation was peculiarly pain- ful. Mr. and Mrs. Clifford, with Lilly, Emily, and her nurse, were to set off in October, as the physi- cian had declared that another winter at the North would be perilous in the extreme. It was a great trial to the affectionate mother; but regarding it as a solemn duty to preserve her health for the sake of her dear ones, and knowing that she could safely leave her older children in the care of Miss Arnold, she made her arrange- ments with a cheerful spirit, and perfect trust in her kind Heavenly Father. They were to take a steamer to Charleston, and thence pro- ceed to Florida, where they were to spend the winter. All their preparations being completed, on the night before their departure, Mrs. Clifford gathered her family in her sitting-room, and there commended them, in true Christian faith, to the covenant-keeping care of her God and her Saviour. It seemed as though an angel of peace was hovering over the family circle, singing sweet hymns of cheerfulness. Be that as it may, the sheltering arms of a gracious Father were beneath them, and Mrs. Clifford felt their strong support. Early in the morning, the carriage was at the door, ready 7 97 98 EDITH'S MINISTRY. to convey the travellers to New York. The tender mother almost fainted beneath the pain of parting; for although her faith was strong, her bodily strength was feeble, and the sight of her weeping children and servants almost unnerved her. " Farewell, Edith !" said her mother, as folding her in her arms, she tenderly embraced her ; " be a second mother to your dear sisters. "We know not how soon you may be called to fill my place." " Dear mother, do not say so," answered Edith. Kissing Madge affectionately, Mrs. Clifford bade her to be obedient to Miss Arnold, and loving to her sisters. To Blanche and Adele, she gave her parting charge, with a mother's fond affection. Aunt Priscilla stood aside, wiping her eyes, for she dearly loved her nephew's gentle wife. " I shall go soon, Mary, for I cannot bear to stay without you ; but do be careful of your- Belf, and don't forget the bottle of black drops, when you are nervous." Uncle Peter came forward, and respectfully taking his mis- tress's hand, kissed it reverently, and said in a devout manner, " The Lord bless you, and keep you, my dear, good Missis, and bring you safe and sound to us all again." Mr. Clifford, not wishing to prolong the painful scene, took an affectionate leave of all his children, and giving fresh charges to Miss Arnold and Edith, he handed his wife into the first carriage, who sank back exhausted upon the seat. With another wave of his hand to those who stood watching on the front piazza, the carriage, followed by another, containing the children and their nurse, drove off, and were soon out of sight. The house appeared very desolate without the beloved parents, and it required all Edith's self-control to return cheer- fully to her duties. Mr. Clifford was a most devoted, affectionate husband, preserving for his interesting wife all that warmth of attachment which had characterized his youthful days. Nor was it very wonderful ; for lovely as she was by nature, THE FAMILY CHAIN BROKEN. 99 she had taken great pains to make his home a blessed haven of repose, by those nameless attentions to his comfort, and the careful observation of all those little graceful proprieties which impart so many charms to the young bride. She had wisely judged, that what was esteemed so charming in the young girl, was doubly necessary in the intimate relations of husband and wife ; consequently, she was always neat, and ready to receive her husband as a refined lady, and never annoyed him with those domestic details, with which many wives entertain their wearied husbands. As he looked at her faded form and languid countenance, his heart sank within him at the thought of perhaps soon being compelled to resign this dearly cherished wife to the cold and silent grave. Seating himself by her side, and drawing heF fragile figure nearer to him, while she leaned her head upon his shoulder, he pressed a kiss upon her pale lips, and mentally resolved, that so long as life should beat in that bosom, he would cherish and defend her from all evil, and spare no pains or expense, if by any means a life so dear could be prolonged. " I feel great hopes for you, dear Mary, now that we really have cut loose from family cares, and are about to seek such a genial climate," said her husband. " I am willing, George, that God should do just as he pleases with me, though I own that Ravenswood has many links to bind me to the earth, and if God should deem it best, I should wish to live for my children's sake;" and as she said this, she raised her soft blue eyes to her husband's face, while they beamed upon him an expression of unutterable love. He stooped over the beloved wife, and throwing aside the clustering ringlets, with a soft caress, he laid his hand upon the fair forehead. " You have been a dear, kind husband to me," she con- tinued ; " well have you redeemed your marriage vow. There is but one thing, dearest, that I could wish otherwise, and that is, that I could see you living the life and enjoying the hopes 100 EDITH'S MINISTRY. of a real Christian. I cannot bear the thoughts of eternal separation ; and you know, my husband, that you are as yet living without God in this world." " Do not distress yourself, Mary ; I hope to turn my attention some day to religion. If anything could win me, I think it would be your sweet example, wife." Thus continued this communion of hearts, until they reached New York, where they found their good pastor, the Rev. Mr. Berkely, waiting for them. He had come down for the kind purpose of seeing their embarkation, and while waiting at the hotel for the hour of departure, he fervently commended the party to the protecting care of their Heavenly Father. They went on board the steamer in the afternoon. The passage down the splendid bay of New York was glorious. It was one of the most beautiful evenings of autumn. The re- flection of the glowing sunset on the water was magnificent, and the scenery all along the shore was interesting. The whole landscape spoke of peace and hope. After a short and pleasant voyage, they soon found themselves comfortably sit- uated for the winter, at Magnolia. Mrs. Clifford enjoyed the companionship of little Lilly, for she was a sweet, thoughtful child, and being tenderly attached to her mother, was a great comfort. She heard frequently from home, and the accounts were such as lulled her anxieties to rest. The mild climate, the peculiar treatment, and her entire rest, acted favorably upon her disease, and she was evidently better than she had been for many years. There was even an increase of flesh, and the lily of her cheek gave place to the more delicate tints of the rose. Her strength evidently improved, and Mr. Clifford, upon consultation with physicians at Magnolia, finally concluded on removing with his family in the spring to Europe, to stay a couple of years, spending their winters in the south of France. He wrote home to that effect, saying that they would return early in May, and bidding them make all necessary arrangements for their departure to the Continent. The winter had passed rapidly, for the family at Ravens- THE FAMILY CHAIN BROKEN. 101 wood had all been very busy, and although nothing could compensate for the absence of their parents, still constant occupation prevented them from suffering much of loneliness. The young men spent their Christmas vacation with them, which lasted about two weeks. Gerald still appeared devoted to Edith, Ralph the kind friend of Madge, and Frank lively as ever. One bright December morning, Frank came running into the breakfast-room, brimful of a party of pleasure which he had in view. " What say you, girls, to a sleigh-ride ? There has been a splendid fall of snow, and it would be delightful to run down as far as New York. Aunt Morris would be glad to see us ; we could stay a couple of nights, see some of the sights of the great city, and then return home." Seeing that Miss Arnold looked disapproval, he turned to her and said : " Now, dear, good Miss Arnold, don't object. I have per- mission from my father for just such an excursion. I wrote in time, hoping for snow, and I think we had better take advant- age of it." Running to get his letter, he brought it to her, that she might read for herself. Full of the projected sport, Frank brought out their own and Gerald's sleighs, and warmly clad, with light and merry hearts, they started for a ride of about fifteen miles. The morning was bright and exhilarating. Bruno made one of the party, and safely lodged at his master's feet, he enjoyed the winter's ride as much as the rest. Their road lay through a picturesque part of the country ; and although it was winter, yet the bright sunny sky, the snow-roofed houses, and the glittering icicles, pendent from the wintry-shrouded trees, all had a beauty of their own. Even Madge was delighted, and as she sat chatting with Ralph, really looked happy, and some- times almost pretty. When they reached the ferry, they sent the sleigh back again, fearing that a sudden change might prevent their re- turn in the same way. Taking carriages on the other side, 102 EDITH'S MINISTRY. they started for Mrs. Morris's splendid mansion. She re- ceived them with delight, and almost insisted that they should all stay at her house ; but Josephine, Gerald and Ralph per- ferred a hotel, promising to return early in the evening. Jn the meanwhile a party was arranged for the theatre. To Edith's surprise, Frank announced his intention of going. " Do you really mean to go to the theatre ?" asked Edith. " Why not, sister ?" replied Frank. "Because you know dear mamma's opinion about such places of amusement." " But, Edith, father thinks differently. He says that I will never be a man, if I do not see something of the world, and he has given me permission to go." When they assembled after tea, Ralph, Gerald, and Edith declined ; at which Mrs. Morris quietly sneered. Madge was very anxious to see the personification of some of her favorite characters, and as Hamlet was the play for the evening, she wished especially to go. Blanche and Adele had heard such glowing accounts, from 'their young cousins, about the charms of the stage, that they were scarcely to be denied, as they hung around Edith, begging for permission to partake of the pleasure. When they were alone, Adele said : " I tell you what it is, Blanche, I think it's a shame that Edith is allowed to direct us ; she is not so much older. I wish that we could go without her knowledge." Blanche listened, desiring the same thing, but had not cour- age enough to express it. Josephine had observed Madge's anxiety to partake of the amusement, and when she left the room, followed Madge, and knocking at her door, said : "Madge, let me in. I have something to say to you of great importance." She opened the door, and Josephhine, looking around, said, in a whisper, " Can any one hear ?" " There is no danger," answered Madge, " speak on." " Do you want to go with us to-night ?" THE FAMILY CHAIN BROKEN. 103 " I do," replied the young girl. " Then you shall go. I don't see why an older sister should be allowed to rule you so entirely." Josephine had often looked on, and determined, if it was pos- sible, to bring Madge out of what she called " the house of bondage." She appreciated her talents, and wished to imbue her with some of her own spirit. " Would you go without Edith's knowledge ?" " Yes, if I can." " Well, then, listen to me," said Josephine. " The three saints Ralph, Edith, and Gerald are going to-night to a concert. They will want you to go. Pretend to be sick, and I will manage all the rest. We will start before they do. I will direct the waiter to bring you around to the north door, and Frank will come there to meet you." " I will do all but the pretending. I contend that I have a right to guide my own actions. I will just say I don't want to go, and the girls will stay at home to keep me company." " We will outwit them this time, won't we, Madge? and you shall have the treat ; besides, there is no great harm done. Your father does not object, if your mother does ; and, accord- ing to her own theory, he ia the master, and ought to be obeyed." Although Madge had resolved to go, her conscience could not yield to this sophistry, when she remembered the pale face of her absent mother, and felt the power of her mild reproving eye. After tea, Edith proposed the concert to the party. Madge quietly declined; and Blanche and Adele, who were in the secret, declared their intention of remaining at home with Mudge. Edith was not surprised, as she so frequently declined invitations with her sisters. The party for the theatre started first, then the others to the concert ; and in a few minutes, the thoughtless girls were ready to accompany the servant, who was waiting for them in the hall. A short and hurried walk brought them to the theatre, where Frank was awaiting them. 104 EDITH'S MINISTRY. " Well, little sisters, this is grand fun ; you shall have one merry night at least." Madge began to feel uncomfortable, as she wondered what Ralph would think of her conduct; but determined on gratify- ing her desires, she silenced the voice of conscience. When they entered the theatre, they were perfectly be- wildered and dazzled : the glittering lights the brilliant costumes the music all enchanted them ; but when the cur- tain arose, they were spell-bound ; especially Frank and Madge, who had never dreamed of half of the enchantment. In the excitement of the evening, conscience was completely lulled to sleep; but when all was over, they had been too long and faith- fully taught not to feel the evil of their conduct, and to dread a meeting with Edith. The pleasure of the evening, intoxi- cating as it had been, was more than counter-balanced by the reproaches of the monitor within, now awakening to accuse them of their guilt. Edith arrived before them. On inquiring for her sisters, she was told that they had gone out ; and not being able to ob- tain any satisfaction from the servants, she had to wait in anx- ious suspense, not knowing what to think. Half past ten o'clock arrived, and no tidings ; eleven came, and still no news. The family had not yet arrived. When the bell rang, Edith heard the door open, and thought that she distinguished Adele's voice among the party. To her utter amazement, all entered the parlor together. Madge first presented herself. " Where have you been, Madge ?" said Edith. " I have been to the theatre," answered the young girl, in a defiant tone. Blanche looked timid and alarmed, and shrank behind Frank. Adele tried to laugh at the joke. Ralph seemed cold and displeased, Gerald grieved ; and Edith, in a sorrowful tone, said, " Frank, how could you do so ? You know our dear mother's wishes on these subjects ; and placed as they have been under my care, it is teaching them a sad lesson of disobedience and deceit. " I think that you regard it in a manner much too serious," THE FAMILY CHAIN BROKEN. 105 replied Frank ; " the girls never have had an opportunity of seeing such an entertainment ; and as father does not dis- approve of it, I can't see that they have done any wrong under my care." Ralph avoided Madge ; for while he had confidence in her truth, he hoped for better things from her ; but now that she had manifestly departed from that straight path, he was deeply disappointed. Madge was miserable, for the friendship of Kalph Cameron was her greatest earthly comfort ; and to lose that, would be to lose her last hope. When she returned to her room, she thought over all her conduct ; but having lis- tened to the injurious teachings of Josephine Fortescue, won- dered if she was not wise enough to judge for herself. Her proud heart began to rise up even against Ralph, and to long for that liberty of action which she saw Josephine enjoying. And yet, when she remembered all his generous kindness, she could not but long for a reconciliation ; and ere she slept that night, she resolved to seek Ralph next day, and explain her conduct. At an early hour on the following morning, Josephine called, and when she saw the state of things, was very well satisfied ; for she determined, if possible, to produce an estrange- ment between the two. They talked over the affair of the evening before. "Surely, Madge," said Josephine, "you are not going to ask pardon of that proud Pharisee ? What right has he to govern your actions? If you do, you will greatly demean yourself; and as to Edith, she is only your sister. You have as good a right as she, to seek your own pleasures." The poison sank deep into her proud heart, and she began to dream of independence and female rights. Ralph called after breakfast, and evidently sought an opportunity to speak to Madge; she avoided his eye, answered him in monosyllables, and wounded his noble heart. She was but fifteen years old now, but there was about the young girl a strength of deter- mination and resentment, that illy became one so young, and which we seldom see in woman, at even a mature age. She 106 EDITH'S MINISTRY. had allowed the evil spirit to gain the mastery. Ralph's influence was weakened by the power of a disappointed woman, and under the mistaken idea of independence, Madge was throwing away a friend that had proved himself a brother indeed. Edith's spirit was deeply saddened. She saw how Madge and Frank had been affected by their new pleasure. She dreaded the results on such natures, and deeply lamented the increasing power of Josephine Fortescue. Under these adverse circumstances, a visit commenced under such sunny skies had been clouded by these worldly associations. She longed for her quiet home, and on the third day, they started for a return to Ravenswood. They could scarcely realize the change in their feelings. The sky was still cloudless, but the voice of merriment was hushed. Edith was sad at the thought of her sister's departure from duty; Frank was vexed because she was depressed ; Gerald sympathized with her feelings ; Ralph and Madge were estranged ; Josephine rejoiced maliciously ; Blanche and Adele were ashamed, and the whole party very wretched. Miss Arnold soon perceived that much was amiss, and on discovering the whole affair, endeavored to set it before them in its true light. When she understood the part which Josephine had taken, she was more than ever distressed at the intimacy, especially between her and Madge, which now be- came closer than ever. The rest of the vacation was spent sadly, for Madge with- stood all Ralph's advances to his former brotherly relations ; and, misled by Josephine, she endeavored to appear indepen- dent, but had too much feeling not to be miserable. Once more, during the holidays, Frank rode down to New York to go again to the theatre. He seemed captivated, and was often heard, when alone, reciting from Shakespeare, and was com- pletely engrossed by the fascinating amusement. Edith parted from the young men sadly. She trembled for Frank, missed the sweet sympathy of Gerald, and grieved to see how coldly Madge bade Ralph farewell, although she saw that it cost the poor misguided girl a bitter struggle. She had one blessed THE FAMILY CHAIN BROKEN. 107 refuge at a throne of grace, and there she brought all dear ones ; and as she named them one by one to her Heavenly Father, hoped that Divine grace would rescue them all at last from the deep dark prison-house of inbred sin. During the winter, she heard frequently from her mother. Accounts were encouraging; and when the news reached them that they were to commence making preparations for a removal to Europe in May, the household was consequently in a great state of excitement. All were pleased with the idea of a visit to the Continent ; as it was proposed that they should travel, through the summer, and spend the winter in the south of France. Edith was grieved at the thought of losing Gerald, and Madge cared not where she went, as she felt that she had lost Kalph Cameron's friendship, and it mattered not where she dwelt. The bright chain of harmony seemed broken. When alone, musing over the past, Madge frequently asked who had first snapped the links. Sometimes her heart whis- pered, "Is it Josephine?" and yet she had grown so des- perate under the certainty that she had finally lost Ralph's friendship, that she gave herself up completely to the guidance of her new friend. Edith felt also the snapping of the golden links of their family union ; but tracing the first to the separation of their dear parents from the family circle, she felt that the hand of God had unclasped them for wise purposes ; and while she prayed with earnest faith, she still hoped for the reunion of all these broken links, if not in this world, in the brighter one to come. These blessed hopes sustained her ; but poor Madge, farther and farther off, into the barren desert of doubt and suspicion, found her heart chilled once more, for want of a genial, firm, and loving spirit. Little did she think how completely Ralph still read her heart, understood her temptation, prayed for the misguided girl, and looked for her return. He feared it might be long, for he saw her surrounded by the mists of prejudice; but still he hoped, and still he loved the wayward child of genius. Believing that he had ceased to care for her, Madge was per- 108 EDITH'S MINISTRY. fectly reconciled to the idea of leaving America, and began to look forward with some anxiety to the prospect of seeing other countries, and of revelling among the beautiful scenery of the interior of Europe. The winter passed rapidly away. That sweet season had come, when the singing of the birds is heard in the green forests, among the leafy boughs ; and, in the lan- guage of Scripture, when " the voice of the turtle is heard iu the land." Early in May, the parents returned, Mrs. Clifford greatly improved, having gained flesh, with a more rosy-tinted com- plexion, and much more strength. They were all delighted to be together once more. Preparations for departure rapidly progressed. The house was to be left in the care of a steward and his family, in whom they could repose perfect confidence. Frank and Gerald came home on a short visit before the family sailed, and anxious to see Ralph, Mrs. Clifford sent for him also. Madge seemed softened at the idea of leaving Ralph unreconciled, and often appeared disturbed at the thought, and almost inclined to grant the interview which he sought ; but the old pride held her back, and the certainty that she had estranged every friend but Josephine, made her still shrink from his notice. One evening, she had wandered to her old walk by the river- side. Seated on the bank, she was sadly musing on the past, and wondering over the future. While absorbed in thought, she did not perceive footsteps approaching, until Ralph Came- ron stood before her. She was about to run hastily away, when, with his former spirit of command, he took the little hand which trembled in his grasp, and seating her by his side, said : " Why do you avoid me, Madge ? Are you really going away, so completely estranged from your old friend?" "You cannot wish it to be different, Mr. Cameron, after the events of last winter. My conduct was so bad, that with your principles, I do not see how you can notice me. I deceived my sister, and have ever since been pursuing a path of determined transgression." " Are you happy, Madge?" THE FAMILY CHAIN BROKEN. 109 " Happy !" answered the child, "I do not expect to be happy. I am ugly, disagreeable, proud, and bad-tempered. Nobody can love me ; all I ask is to be let alone." " I shall never do that, Madge. When I profess friendship, it is for life ; and I shall never cease to care for you, to pray for you, and to look for your return to me, Madge, as your friend, but most of all to God, whom you have offended." The trembling lip and tearful eye, betrayed the feelings with which Madge listened to the old familiar tones of kindness. She did not trust herself to look into Kalph's face, for she men- tally referred to Josephine's sneers, and inwardly resolved not to place herself so completely under her friend's control. Under the influence of this evil feeling, she merely replied : " Thank you, Mr. Cameron, for your kind instructions, but I am growing older every day, and think that I ought to act a little more independently." " Foolish child !" replied Ralph, " you will be sorry for re- fusing my friendship. Remember what I say, you will come back to your old friend ; but I fear that you are laying up for yourself a store of sorrow before that day." " When I feel the need of your advice, I will certainly ask it, Mr. Cameron," replied Madge, " but for the present, I have a strong-minded friend of my own sex, who is able to direct me." " Do you mean Josephine Fortescue, Madge ? I am very sorry that you should have chosen such a guide. She is one illy qualified to direct such a spirit as yours." Ralph saw that the mood of the young girl was completely changed, and that the poison of Josephine's teaching had com- menced its work. His noble heart was deeply pained on feeling the estrangement which had thus been produced ; but with true Christian faith, he laid his hand on Madge's head, and said : "I leave you, my dear child, in God's care; may he guide, watch over, and bear with you, and bring you into his fold." Tears filled her eyes, and choked her utterance, as she re- plied : " You will not forget me, Mr. Cameron, though I have proved myself so unworthy ?" 110 EDITH'S MINISTRY. "No, Madge, in your distant sojourn in a foreign land, re- member, that at morning and at night I shall bear you on my heart before a throne of grace." Somewhat softened, Madge accompanied Ralph to the house. Next day, he took his sorrowful leave of the family, and re- turned to college, the same kind and faithful friend of poor misguided Madge. She stood upon the piazza, watching the carriage which conveyed her friend away, and kept down the swelling feelings of regret which agitated her young heart at the remembrance of what she had thrown away, and secretly wondered if Josephine would prove the same faithful friend that Ralph had been. The sequel will show the results of her present course of proud independence. CHAPTER XI. BEYOND THE SEA. RAVELLING preparations rapidly progressed. Gerald and Frank still tarried ; for, looking for- ward to a separation for two years, they could not bear to sunder the last tie too soon. The evening before departure at length arrived. After tea, Gerald whispered to Edith, " Will you walk with me ?" And silently they pursued their way down the shady avenue to the old elm tree, a spot so much endeared by so many tender recollections. Edith leaned on Gerald's arm mournfully and silently. Not one word Avas spoken, until they reached the trysting-place. It was a lovely evening in May ; all around was fresh and smiling, but the two young hearts felt no sympathy with the loveliness of the evening ; for thoughts of the deep ocean which would soon roll between them, sank into their bosoms like lead, and quenched each joyous feeling. Gerald seated himself by Edith, upon a rustic settee that stood under the old tree. Taking her hand, he said : " Edith, what, a lonely place Ravenswood will be when you are far away ! I cannot tell you how sadly I look forward to our separation. I can scarcely bear to think of even visiting our old haunts when you are absent." " Are you sure, Gerald," replied Edith, " that you will con- Ill 112 EDITH'S MINISTRY. tinue to remember me ? May not absence dim the recollection of your early friend ?" " No, Edith, nothing can efface your image from my heart. I cannot see you depart, without a promise which will bind you to me for life, as my sweet companion." "That promise is yours, Gerald," solemnly replied Edith; " no other can ever be so dear to me, as the cherished friend of my early years, the future partner of my earthly lot ; but re- member, Gerald, if you should prove untrue to me, my hopes of earthly happiness are at an end." " Do not talk so, Edith ; it seems to imply a doubt of my constancy. You will write frequently. I shall expect to hear by every steamer, and shall be greatly disappointed if you should be negligent." " You need not fear that, Gerald ; it will be my greatest com- fort in a foreign land." " I have a little case here, Edith, which I have thought that you would value," said Gerald ; and taking it from his pocket, he handed it to her. What was her delight on seeing a perfect resemblance of himself, painted by his own hand ! Long ere this, he had secured a picture of Edith, which all had pronounced excellent, and which he preserved among his treasures. In sad, though pleasant intercourse, they whiled away the twilight hour, and returning, when they came in sight of his house, Gerald paused, and pointing to his home, said, " Oh, Edith, how long the time appears, ere I can claim you as the mistress of Oak Hall. How many years may elapse before that happy day ?" "It may never be, Gerald. The future is wisely hidden from us. Sickness or death may overtake either of us ; and should I lose my precious mother, duty might call me else- where ; but while I desire to commit all the future to God entirely, be assured that my eaithly love is all your own." The shades of night gathered rapidly around them ; the whip-poor-will sang sadly his evening song ; the night-hawk sailed over their heads, screaming as he directed his course to BEYOND THE SEA. 113 the woods ; the old elm tree was seen no more, and Oak Hall was concealed by the curtain of night. As they reached the piazza, the moon arose slowly and majestically, shedding her pale light over the landscape. Their spirits were in unison with the melancholy of the picture, and after sitting a few minutes on the piazza, they entered the house. The parents fully sanctioned the transaction of the evening, and Edith's high nature felt a new motive to grow in grace and elevation of character, when she looked upon herself as the betrothed of Gerald Fortescue. The morning dawned propitiously. At an early hour, the carriages stood before the door. All the servants but Uncle Peter had been dismissed. A trusty family was left in charge of the house, and the faithful old man was appointed to take care of the grounds. Aunt Priscilla had come up to take leave of the family. She had furnished them abundantly with medicine for sea-sickness. She had made each a nice shoe-bag and needle-book, and in Edith's hand she placed a package, which she desired her not to open until she embarked on board the vessel. Miss Arnold and a faithful old nurse accompanied the party. The latter was a faithful servant, who had nursed Mrs. Clifford when an infant, and being tenderly attached to her, had lived with her ever since her marriage, and had become an indispensable appendage to the family. When all was prepared, Mrs. Clifford stood on the piazza, taking one last look of her beautiful home. Turning to her husband as she leaned upon him, she said, "We shall see nothing lovelier than this, George. Look at that flowing river, the fresh green forests, and those rolling hills. Were it not for the hope of restored health, nothing could tempt me to leave this charm- ing spot." Turning, she bade Aunt Priscilla an affectionate farewell. Uncle Peter covered his face to hide his tears, and blessing his kind mistress, he moved rapidly away. Gerald and Frank accompanied the party to New York, where they took a steamer for Liverpool. The young men stayed on board until the last minute. When the signal to leave was given, farewells 114 EDITH'S MINISTRY. were spoken hastily. Gerald wrung Edith's hand, and press- ing it to his lips, in another minute was gone. As the steamer slowly moved from the wharf, Edith who stood watching, pale and motionless, perceived Gerald standing with his hat down over his face. With one more wave of his hand, he turned slowly away, and taking Frank's arm, they walked silently back to their hotel. The next day they re- turned to college, and the vessel pursued her gallant course rapidly out to sea. Remembering Aunt Priscilla's package, Edith opened it and to her surprise found a draft for one hundred dollars for her own personal use, as a parting gift from her aged relative. Mrs. Clifford suffered much from sea-sickness, and the ser- vices of dear old nursey were invaluable. Edith was often very sad. Madge was moody and sought solitude. Blanche and Adele enjoyed the novelty of their situation, everything on board the ship delighted them. Lilly and Emily were the especial charge of nurse, and Edith, in company with Miss Arnold, learned to delight in the grandeur and magnificence of scenes on the deep blue and boundless ocean. After a pleasant passage, they arrived in safety at the desired haven. Staying but a few days in Liverpool, they proceeded to London, and the whole party were delighted with the country through which they travelled, the railroads were conducted so admirably, and the travelling so easy and pleasant. They passed many beautiful homes, and were especially struck with the hedge-row beauties which they observed. The white haw- thorn blossom, now in full bloom, dividing the field, gave the country the appearance of a highly cultivated garden. The charming villas, the rose-embowered cottages, the grassy lanes, and countless village spires towering up to heaven, all lent enchantment to the picturesque scenery which everywhere met the eye. On reaching London, they delivered a few letters of intro- duction to some choice English families, and were delighted with the acquaintances which they formed. They had brought letters to a family by the name of Percy, whom they found BEYOND THE SEA. 115 living out of town, at Richmond, in one of the most charm- ing suburbs of the great metropolis. Their house was an old- fashioned English hall, provided with every comfort, and even many luxuries of life, surrounded by highly cultivated grounds. The noble old trees looked as ancient as if they had sheltered several generations, and their flower-garden was laid out in the most tasteful manner. When Mr. and Mrs. Clifford paid their first visit, they soon found themselves domesticated with one of the finest specimens of a refined and pious English family. It consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Percy, a governess, Clara, the eldest daughter, a girl of fifteen ; May, the next, a child of thirteen, and Lydia, a little girl of six. Lionel, a youth of nineteen, was absent at college, and to judge from the affectionate mention of this beloved member of the family, one might suppose that he was every- thing that a son and brother ought to be. Be that as it may, the loving household looked at him through the glasses which made everything couleur de rose. When Clara took the young girls out on an excursion through the grounds, they were con- tinually chatting of Brother Lionel. "Do you see that pigeon-box? Brother made it and nailed it up there, and we take care of his pigeons while he is away." Running still further on, they came to a pond of gold-fish. "Look at those fish, Miss Edith," said Clara. "Some of them are so tame, that when brother throws crumbs of bread, they will come up close to the border of the pond to get them ; but, no wonder, Lionel is so kind. He would not even hurt a fish." When they came to the stables, Clara called to the groom : " John, will you bring out Oscar?" and very soon a fine-looking horse came ambling gaily out of the stable, and neighing at the sight of the children, came rubbing his head against Clara's hand, and seemed as tame among them as a pet dog. " That is Lionel's horse. He loves brother just as much as we do, and when he comes home, Oscar is as happy as any one else." May went running into the stable, and calling out, " Tray, 116 EDITH'S MINISTRY. come out here," her call was soon responded to by a fine old dog, that came bounding along to greet his young friends. " That is Lionel's dog," said May. " I -wish you could see how he minds brother, and yet he never strikes him, or says ail unkind word." " When does your brother come home ?" asked Blanche. " Not till vacation. When he returns this summer, he is going to travel with his tutor." " Is he handsome ?" asked Adele. " Yes, indeed," replied May; "he is splendid. He has the most beautiful black eyes, and fine black hair, and such white teeth, and then his smile is so sweet ; but when he gets angry, I feel afraid of Lionel, for his eyes look so fiery, they seem like lightning." " Oh ! then he does get angry," said Adele. "Yes; I remember once, when our groom beat his horse furiously, Lionel was very angry, and threatened to have him turned away ; but when the man begged his pardon, he for- gave him. Then he was angry again, when he saw a proud- looking man knock down a poor little match girl in the street. Dear brother picked up all her matches for her ; and he was so vexed with the proud man, that he seized him by the collar, and was going to knock him down, only he begged his pardon." " Well, I think that I should like to know this brother of yours," said Adele. " Perhaps you may, some day," replied May. " I don't think that anybody has such a darling brother, so good, so wise, so beautiful." Many were the pleasant hours spent by the Cliffords with this excellent family. On their first Sabbath in England, they passed the day with the Percy's, going to church with them in the morning. They returned to dinner. At the table, each child was expected to repeat as much as was remembered of the sermon, and the conversation was such as became the day. In the evening Mr. Percy conducted family prayer in the library ; aud on each morning, every member of the family BEYOND THE SEA, 117 repeated a text, of Scripture, and children, servants, and the whole household, joined in the solemn worship. They truly obeyed the Scriptural injunction, to " use hospitality without grudging," and our travellers soon felt as much at home with them, as in the family of relatives. Under their kind escort, they explored all the places of interest in and about London. Madge was charmed with her visit to Westminster Abbey. Standing amidst its long dark cloisters, surrounded by the dust of sleeping kings and rival monarchs, she could scarcely breathe, so intense was the feeling with which she gazed upon those solemn monuments of human greatness. The misty light of these dim cloisters imparted a mysterious grandeur to the imposing scene ; and the vivid imagination of Madge Clifford found it very easy to people the dark Abbey with spirits of the departed. Shakespeare seemed to arise from his silent sepulchre, and, waving his magic wand among the tombs, he called up many illustrious spirits from their deep slumbers, who stalked before her mental vision in all their grandeur. Henry the Eighth and his murdered queens rose first, the gloomy Katharine of Arragon, the bewitching Anne Boleyn, the beautiful Catharine Howard, the scorned and disappointed Anne of Cleves, and last the wily Catharine Parr ; all seemed to pass before her, with accusing looks of injured woman- hood. Richard the Third seemed confronted with the mur- dered Princes, and the ghost of injured Clarence seemed to point his pale finger at his murderer. The haughty Eliza- beth shrank from the shadowy form of the lovely Mary Stuart, and she could almost hear the clanging of knightly armor, as she recalled the martial deeds of Richard Coeur de Lion. Poets chanted their magnificent lays, and great musicians breathed unearthly music around her. It was at an hour of daily service when she visited the Abbey, and as the choir chanted their solemn hymns, she could easily imagine that she was in another world, listening to heavenly strains around the everlasting throne. She was bewildered, overpowered ; 118 EDITH'S MINISTRY. not one word could she speak. So much did she feel herself surrounded by the mighty dead, that she would have felt it sacrilege to speak in such an audience-chamber. When tread- ing again the streets of London, she felt as if she had been in dream-land, and for hours she could not recover the usual tone of her mind. After having visited all the places of note, it was arranged to proceed to the chaiming lakes of Westmoreland; after which, it was proposed to make a summer tour on the Con- tinent, and to spend the following winter at Pau, in the south of France. They parted with much regret from their pleasant friends, the Percy's, but with the sanguine feelings of the young, the juvenile portion of the party hoped to meet again. Travelling through a most picturesque part of England, they visited the charming lakes of Westmoreland. That of Derwent Water was peculiarly beautiful, dotted over with green islands, and decorated with elegant country-seats, in a state of high cultivation. A beautiful, though not very noisy cascade, whose musical waters murmured at the en- trance, was an additional feature of beauty. In their tour, they stopped at Wordsworth's residence, on Rydal Mount, situ- ated among the most enchanting scenery of the north of England. In view of the poet's home, Madge read aloud some of his most beautiful peoms, and realized much more keenly the charm of his descriptions. Early one morning, Blanche and Adele, with the permission of their parents, started on an excursion in search of some long grasses, which they had observed in their rambles. Taking a little boat they were safely conducted over the lake to one of the green islands, on the borders of which they hoped to find the object of their search. When they reached the island, they dismissed the boatman, telling him to return in about an hour. It was one of the most genial days in June, when the blue sky, in its perfect transparency, seemed as though the spirits who might visit its confines could almost be seen by human BEYOND THE SEA. 119 eyes. The air was exhilarating; and the young creatures, who bounded in all the gayety of youthful spirits over the green velvet sward, and under the leafy trees, seemed under the inspiration of one of Nature's brightest holidays. Attired in simple white dresses, with large straw flats, tied under the chin Avith a light blue ribbon, they flitted about like some pure vision of youth and beauty. They were now in their fourteenth year, and were charming specimens of that time of youthful loveliness. " Look there, Blanche," said Adele, "there are some of the very grasses which we want ; but they are on the other side of the lake. How can we get there? O, I see! there is a boat. I know how to row, for I have rowed many a time on our own dear Hudson." "Are you not afraid to try it, Adele?" asked Blanche, who was much more tirnid than her sister. " No, indeed ; can anything be more quiet than this beau- tiful lake ? and it is a very short distance. Let us try it." Accordingly, Adele quickly unmoored the boat, and in a few minutes the young creatures were gliding rapidly along in search of their grasses. Adele had thrown off her hat; her luxuriant black hair hung in clustering ringlets around her bright face, and down her shoulders ; exercise and excite- ment had imparted an additional glow to her olive com- plexion, and more brilliancy to her sparkling eyes. They went along, singing merily, until they came in sight of the grasses. Leaning over the boat, they succeeded in obtain- ing some fine variegated specimens. " Oh, Blanche, see what beauties! But they are so far off," said Adele. But not accustomed to be deterred by difficulties in the execution of her plans, she gave a few more strokes of her oar, and was almost in reach of her prize. Extending the oar to draw them nearer, she found that she could not reach them ; and leaning over, as Blanche thought, too far, her sister was alarmed, and called out, " Adele ! Adele ! be careful. I am afraid that you will upset the boat." 120 EDITH'S MINISTRY. Adele stood up one minute in the boat, and giving another stroke, she was so near that she could almost reach the grasses stretching forward, the motion caused the boat to recede a little ; another effort, and in the long stretch which Adele made, she lost her balance, fell over, and in one instant was in the water. Blanche screamed for help, as she saw her sister go down ; and in her terror, dropping the oar, the boat floated out into the stream, leaving Adele struggling in the water. In her agony, Blanche continued screaming, until overcome with terror, she sank fainting in the boat, During the scene, a young man had been seated on a shady knoll, somewhat back from the shore, watching the pretty picture, and admiring the sportive grace with which the young girls had been flitting about on the island. Hearing the sudden plunge, and the screams at the same minute, he flew to the shore, and as Adele was going down the second time, succeeded in snatching her form a watery grave. As he raised the lovely from of the insensible girl, he feared that it was too late ; but he laid her down on the shore, in the position most favorable for her recovery, and looking round, he called loudly for help. Perceiving two men not far off from the shore, he succeded in attracting their attention. As quickly as possible, they conveyed the apparently lifeless form to the nearest cottage, and on applying the usual restoratives, the young man was rejoiced to see signs of returning life. In the meanwhile, he had dispatched the men in search of Blanche. Taking a boat, they soon reached the poor child, who still laid insensible in the bottom of the boat. On con- veying her to the cottage where Adele laid still weak, and in a state of great nervous excitement, she was committed to the care of the kind people who had administered to the case of her sister. So soon as Blanche opened her eyes, she looked wildly around, and exclaimed, in a pitiful tone of agony, "Oh, Adele! Adele ! Where is my sister? Tell me the worst !" "She is here," replied her preserver, "safe, and anxious to see you." When Blanche was conducted into her sister's presence BEYOND THE SEA. 121 they threw themselves into each other's arms, and wept con- vulsively for some minutes. " Oh, Adele, what a fearful dream I have had ! How could I have lived without you, my dear, dear sister !" exclaimed Blanche. The young man who had rescued Adele stood gazing on the scene with feelings of deep interest. He looked about nineteen, with fine dark eyes and hair, and a peculiarly noble bearing. " How can I thank you sufficiently ?" said Adele. " What will my parents say? I was so foolish, and I fear disobe- dient." " Do not say a word about thanks," replied the youth ; " I am too happy to have saved your life. When you feel suffi- ciently recovered, allow me to conduct you to your parents." " Let us go soon," said Adele ; and attired in dry clothes, borrowed from the cottagers, they started for their hotel. The young man rowed the boat himself; and on drawing near to the hotel, they met the old nurse, coming out in anxious search of her darlings. "Where have you been so long? your mamma is very un- easy," said the old woman. " Oh, nurse, don't scold us ; I have been nearly drowned," replied Adele ; " and if it had not been for this kind friend, I should never have seen you again." Seizing his hand, the faithful old woman imprinted on it respectful kisses, while she uttered, " Heaven be a praised for this goodness ! Thank you a thousand times ! We could not spare our darling twins !" Nurse broke the intelligence quickly to Mrs. Clifford, who in the joy of receiving her rescued child, could not find it in her heart to reprove her at that time for her rashness. Turning to the youth, with swimming eyes, she said, "And to whom am I indebted for this deliverance?" " It matters not, dear madam ; I shall leave this evening for my home, and would prefer to remain unknown in this matter. I have been instrumental in restoring your sweet daughter to your arms, and this moment amply repays me." 122 EDITH'S MINISTRY. Bidding her good-bye, the young stranger took his depar ture ; and when Mr. Clifford made inquiries for him, no trace of him could be found. A young man answering his descrip- tion had arrived the day before, stayed all night, and had departed in the morning. But the beautiful vision of the young girls went with him, and he often wondered who they were. Blanche had appeared almost as beautiful as an angelic form, but the sportive, piquant graces of mischievous Adele, had pleased him most. On passing through the hall, Adele had found a small pocket-book, with tablets, on which were noted college engage- ments, and a few scraps of fugitive poetry. A few specimens of grass were carefully folded away, in a small envelope, on which was written, " A memorial of the water-nymph of West" moreland." She was almost certain that this belonged to her preserver, and she carefully laid it away among the curiosities collected on their journey. In a day or two they took their departure from the charm- ing lakes, and on their route they visited Melrose Abbey, and walked among its ruins by moonlight, fully realizing the beauty of Sir AA r alter Scott's description : " If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray. When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruin'd central tower ; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seemed formed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, Then go but go alone the while Then view St. David's ruin'd pil ; And, home returning, soothly swear, Was never scene so sad and fair !" They could not leave England without visiting Abbotsford BEYOND THE SEA. 123 and in Sir Walter's library they sat and listened to the music of the Tweed, as it rippled over its pebbly bed, and could well imagine the soothing charm which it must have had for such a mind as that of the former occupant of this honored, conse- crated spot. Edith wished for Gerald to enjoy these charming scenes with her. While absent from Ralph, Madge thought more fre- quently of him than of Josephine Fortescue. Blanche and Adele found amusement everywhere, and the whole party were encouraged and flattered by the manifest change in Mrs. Clif- ford's health. So much had she improved, that she appeared to enter, with all the enthusiasm of youth, into the delight which their journey afforded. Miss Arnold was a peculiarly interesting companion, for in all their journeying she kept her pupils well informed, geographically, historically, practically, and even politically, of the land through which they travelled. With such a teacher, her young charge would gain more know- ledge in one month than could be gathered from books in a year. Each was required to keep notes of all that they saw daily, and at their stopping-places their journals were read by Miss Arnold, and useful hints given for future notices. When stopping long enough, it was her custom to correct their manuscripts. They also gathered specimens of plants and minerals in their journey, which they carefully preserved for future use. So much did the children desire it, that Mr. Clifford consented to visit the ruins of Kenilworth Castle, ere he embarked for France. They first stopped at Warwick, where there is a very fine old castle, where Madge luxuriated in all the reveries of her romantic nature; then they directed their course to Kenil- worth, a small place in the vicinity, celebrated only for its mag- nificent castle and park, the former of which is now in ruins. It was a gift of Queen Elizabeth to her favorite, Dudley, Earl of Leicester. The area inclosed within the castle walls was seven acres, and the circuit of the park and chase alone, was not less than twenty miles. As they stood amid its ruins, Madge could easily picture the scenes of courtly grandeur once acted there, when the haughty Elizabeth visited the Earl of Leicester ; 124 EDITH'S MINISTRY. and her blood chilled with horror, when she thought of the mysterious disappearance of the lovely Amy Robsart, when waiting for her lord and husband, betrayed, as many thought, by the whistle which her loving heart recognized as Leicester's but which only lured her to a horrid death. She thought of the deep vault beneath the treacherous trap, and of the form seen only by its snowy robes, which lay there, a victim to man's per- fidy. As they stood in silence amid its forsaking and imposing ruins, Elizabeth, the haughty queen, Essex and Leicester, the favorites ruined by her preference, Amy Robsart, the murdered wife, Burleigh, the sagacious statesman, Sir Walter Raleigh, the accomplished courtier, all passed before their mental vision ; but no voice could answer to the names once so powerful, and none recall them from the world where they await the resurrection trump. To Elizabeth, and all her flat- tering courtiers, what is ambition now but a stinging scorpion, if it has caused the ruin of their immortal souls ! With thoughts like these, they left the scene, deeply impressed with a sense of the vanity of earthly grandeur and ambition. Ere they left the shores of England, they passed through the county of Devonshire, where they saw much that was beautiful and picturesque. They had seen much to admire in England, high cultiva- tion, lovely rural landscapes, much beyound the merely rural, refined society, remains of ancient greatness, views of old castles, noble churches, richly endowed charities, and much that was elevated in literature ; but their hearts turned back to their own favored land, and could still say, " America, with all thy faults, I love thee still ; with all thy impulsiveness and love of liberty, bordering sometimes on wild license, I love thee still ;" for in those very excesses may be seen the effort of a great nation to reach a great principle, that of universal freedom, and no aristocracy but that of worth and intellect. CHAPTER XII. PRINCIPLES TRIED. HE eve of their departure from England was cheered' by news from home: letters from Gerald, Frank, and Ralph had arrived, all containing intelligence gratifying to their friends. Gerald's breathed of calm and pure affection, Frank's of joyous greetings, and Ralph's of kind and brotherly advice to Madge, which would have produced a salutary effect, had it not been ac- companied by a counteracting epistle from Josephine. Edith had kept a journal, full of sweet pictures of nature's loveliest scenes, and sanctified by the highest sentiments of deep, en- during affection ; this was for Gerald's especial benefit, on which no other eyes were ever permitted to rest. Madge had written fully to Josephine ; but the confidence which had once existed between herself and Ralph was not yet restored, and could not be while under the influence of such a spirit as Josephine Fortescue. 'Tis true, she answered his kind letter ; but with a jealous watchfulness, she repressed all expressions of former friendship, lest he should imagine that his influence was returning. Ere the party sailed for Havre, they despatched their pack- age, and on the next day took a steamer, which in a few hours landed them on the shores of France. They were greatly annoyed by the visit of the officers, who searched all their 125 126 EDITH'S MINISTRY. trunks, and i&ked many impertinent questions, which the free spirit of Americans could illy brook. Accustomed to travel where and how they pleased, they could scarcely realize the new situation in which they found themselves placed. After obtain- ing the passports, they proceeded rapidly to Paris. Everything struck them as splendid in the extreme. The magnificent public buildings; the fine parks, and appearance of gayety everywhere manifest, completely bewildered our young travellers, and they could scarcely describe the impression which these new scenes made upon their minds. Proceeding to Hotel du Louvre, they engaged rooms for the night, but as they expected to remain some weeks in Paris, Mr. Clifford proceeded on the following morning to deliver several letters, one to a distinguished French family, named D'Ouville, and another to Mr. Stuart, an English gentleman. Although M. D'Ouville was a gentleman of wealth, he found him resid- ing in a suite of apartments in Rue Saint Denis. He perceived that this was the general custom, and accordingly requested M. D'Ouville to conduct him to a suitable lodgings for his family. When he arrived at the Rue de Rivoli, he found himself at the porte cochere of a very large dark sandstone house, six stories high. On ringing the bell, the porter (who must be ready at all hours of the twenty-four,) answered the call, saying that there were rooms to rent. Mr. Clifford perceived that the house was built around a hollow square, having a court- yard sufficiently large to admit the turning of a carriage. On ascending the staircase, he asked to be shown through the vacant rooms. With true delicacy, Mr. Clifford shrunk back, not wishing to intrude upon the retirement of private families. M D'Ouville smiled, and said : " Vous n'avez rien a craindre, lea Francais sont accoutumes a ces choses la ; ils ne vous trouveront pas importun." (You need not fear; French people are accustomed to these things, and will not think it an intrusion.) Accordingly, Mr. Clifford was conducted, unceremoniously, from room to room by the landlord, who appeared to think himself privileged to intrude upon his tenants at any hour. On opening a door, to his dismay he observed a lady half-dressed, PRIN IPLES TRIED. 127 and was about retreating, when, with the utmost sang froid, she exclaimed, " Entrez, Monsieur," and shrugging her shoulders, added, " Nous n'y pouvons rien." (We cannot help it.) On passing on the next room, a French gentleman arose, and with true, politeness, said, '* Voila un joli appartement : il sera libre demain." (This is a pleasant room : it will be vacated to- morrow.) On proceeding up another flight, Mr. Clifford soon discovered that he was in very different quarters, it being evident that the family occupying these rooms were English, and regarded the visitors as disagreeable intruders. Mr. Clifford bowed po- litely, and said, " Excuse me, sir : this w y as not my own seeking, I was introduced by the landlord." As soon as the gentleman perceived that the visitor was one who sympathized with his own feeling of reserve, he replied, "you are excusable, sir; but you will be much annoyed by the free manners of these French people." Passing further on, they saw a couple of young ladies hastily retreating into a closet, for fear of being ob- served by strangers. The landlord, perceiving that Mr. Clifford was pleased with the last suite of rooms, bowing politely, said, " Le Conte D' Arlincourt a vu ces chambres, il y a quelques jours, il les a trouvees delicieuses." (The Count D' Arlincourt was looking at these rooms a few days since and was perfectly charmed.) Mr. Clifford smiled significantly on hearing this flourish, and with true American republicanism, wondered how the admiration of a French count could possibly recommend the rooms. Heartily glad that they suited him, he engaged them, already furnished with everything excepting linen and silver. Having concluded his bargain, he hastily left the house, powerfully impressed by the contrast here presented, to the sweet private homes of domestic comfort and refinement in his own native land. In the afternoon he conveyed his family to their apart- ments, hired an additional domestic, and soon they found them- selves as comfortably situated as they could be, away from dear Ravenswood. Mrs. Clifford felt the contrast painfully ; for here were found nobles, laborers, grisettes, saint and vagabond, all 128 EDITH'S MINI? TRY. dwelling beneath the same roof; and although in no way inter- fering with each other, yet the consciousness was annoying to her delicate and retiring habits. On the next day, Madame D'Ouville called, accompanied by her daughters, aged eighteen and sixteen. They were fine specimens of an intelligent French family ; still the air of high fashion and French elegance, which distinguished their dress and carriage, told that they were " of the earth, earthy." They spoke of many places of public amusement, to which they invited Mrs. Clifford and her family, who politely declined attendance upon any which she could not frequent in her own land. " When in Rome, to do as Rome does," was not her maxim of Christian morality. It was her wish that her children should visit interesting places in Paris, provided that their characters were not injured thereby. At an early hour on the next day Madame D'Ouvill< called in her carriage, to take our travellers out to ride in the garden of the Tuilleries. They were much struck with itb extent and beauty, as nothing in their own country can at all compare with its elegance. To the west of the Imperial Palace the gardens were elegantly laid out with gravelled walks, ter- races, plots of flowers, exquisite shrubbery, groves of splendid trees, and basins of water, interspersed with beautiful statues in bronze and marble. Numbers of elegant equipages were driv- ing through the grounds, and everywhere groups of gaily- dressed persons were enjoying the refreshing shade. " Look, Blanche !" said Adele ; " I wonder if that is not the Emperor? It is a magnificent carriage, and there are several outriders." " C'est 1'Erapereur," replied Madame D'Ouville. His carriage was attended by a guard of cavalry, and on drawing near, it was perceived that the Empress and the young Prince were riding with his majesty.. The young girls had an excellent opportunity of seeing the Emperor as he passed. Mrs. Clifford thought that he looked stern and care-worn ; which might well be imagined concerning one who felt that his life was never safe among his oppressed subjects. The Em- press fully realized all the descriptions of beauty, which they PRINCIPLES TRIED. 129 had so often heard; and the young Prince se jmed like all other little boys, light-hearted and joyous. " Est-il airne ?" (Is he beloved ?) asked Mrs. Clifford. " Non, raadame, cela ne peut pas etre, il est trop craint pour etre aime ; si ce n'etait pas pour le despotisme cle fer qu'il a e'tabli, il ne saurait garder son trone." (No, madam, that cannot be ; he is too much feared to be beloved. Were it not for the strong iron despotism which he has established, he could not keep his throne.) " II parait populaire dans la classe ouvriere." (He seems popular among the working classes), answered Mrs. Clifford. "II s'arrange de maniere a les tenir tranquillesen leur don- nant assez d'ouvrage et beaucoup de fetes, et les Francais tant qu'on les amuse, ne s'inquietent guere des affaires de 1'etat.'' (He manages to keep them quiet by plenty of employment and numerous fetes; and while the French have amusements, they do not trouble themselves much about the affairs of govern- ment,) replied Madame D'Ouville. Ere they returned, they drove through the Champs Elysees, a favorite park in- the western part of the city. Walks are laid out in various parts of these fields, where superb national fetes are given, on which occasions the trees are brilliantly illumi- nated. They were particularly struck by the multitudes Avhom they met in these parks, and could not but mark the contrast between the care-worn, anxious countenances of Americans of the same class, all in pursuit of gain, and the light-hearted step, and cheerful, animated countenances of the pleasure-seeking Parisians. In the evening they visited the Boulevards, and were quite bewildered by the scene of enchantment which met their gaze. One, on account of its nearness to the Italian Opera, is called Le Boulevard des Italians. Multitudes of gaily dressed people, were sauntering through its paths, while parties of ladies and gentlemen were sitting beneath the trees, sipping coffee, lemon- ade, or liqueurs. The air was filled with music, and the mag- nificent buildings on either side as brilliantly illuminated as if on some great occasion. Our young friends could scarcely 9 130 EDITH realize that this was just an ordinary evening, so full of gayety and animation was the whole scene. Madge was silent with Avonder; Blanche and Adele brimful of excitement; and Edith could easily imagine, with so much to captivate the senses, how people could forget God. When they returned to their lodgings, Blanche and Adele rattled on merrily about what they had seen, until Mrs. Clifford, warning them of the lateness of the hour, after their evening devotions, dismissed them to their own room. Madame D'Ouville called the next day, \vith an inA r itation for the young ladies to come out and spend a few days with them. Mrs. Clifford granted permission, but Edith declined, not wish- ing to leave her mother so long. "Remember, my daughters," said the anxious mother, "that you have had a Christian education, and do not conform to anything which you have been taught to avoid." Madge, although not decidedly religious, had a character and opinions of her own. Blanche followed the stream nearest to her ; and Adele, though generally thoughtless, did not alto- gether forget her mother's instructions. On -their first day at Madame D'Ouville's, a servant announced M. Le Brun, a cousin of the young ladies. "O! que j'en suis contente," said Celeste. "Mais je ne puis pas descendre avant que ma gouvernante vienne." (Oh ! how glad I am ! But I must not go down stairs until my governess is ready.) " Pourquoi pas ?" (Why not ?) said Adele. " Parcequ'il n'est pas perm is a une demoiselle de se trouver seule avec un monsieur." (Because it is never allowed for a young girl to see a gentleman alone.) "Quoi! pas meme avec sen propre cousin?" (What! not even your cousin ?) said Adele. " Non, vraiment, il ne nous est jamais permis de nous trouA'er dans la societe des messieurs, avant de nour marier." (No, indeed, we are never allowed to associate with gentlemen until we are married) answered Celeste. " C'est une drole d'habitude ; les jeunes personnes en Ameri- PRINCIPLES TRIED. 131 que ne sont pas snjettes a cette espece de gene ; ce sont les dames mariees qui maintiennent la reserve." (That is a strange custom) said Madge. (In America, there are no such re- straints upon young people ; the reserve there is among the married people.) When the governess was ready, the young ladies entered the drawing-room, and with a timid, constrained manner, addressed their cousin. The utmost ceremony was observed during the interview, and the young Cliffords drew a rapid contrast between this, and the frank, genial intercourse between them- selves and Gerald and Frank in their own home. In the pre- sence of their parents, the utmost demureness was preserved by the young D'Ouvilles, but when alone, their conversation proved that the espionage of a French boarding-school had not been sufficient to guard their secret thoughts, or to prevent them from obtaining information and indulgences, more eagerly sought, because so strictly forbidden. The next day, Madge asked the young girls to go out to walk. They looked horror struck. " Quoi, seule ! Ici, une demoiselle n'est jamais seule." (What, alone ! Such a thing is never heard of here among young girls.) " N'etes vous jamais seule ?" (Are you never alone ?) asked Adele. "Non ; si nous sortons, c'est toujours avec notre maman, ou avec notre gouvernante. Si nous aliens a 1'eglise, on nous surveille, si nous avons des visites on nous surveille; notre gouvernante couche meme dans notre chambre, parceque maman dit, que nous pourrions parler inconvenablement les lines avec les autres." (No, if we go out, it is with our mother or governess ; if we go to church, we are watched, if we have company, we are watched, and our governess even sleeps in our room, because mamma says that we may talk improperly to each other.) " Combien cela dure-t-il?" (How long does all this last?) " Jusqu'a ce que nous nous marions, alors nous pouvons aller pu nous voulons, it avoir autant d'admirateurs que bon nous 132 EDITH'S MINISTRY. semble." (Until we are married; then we can go where we please, and have as many admirers as we want) replied Celeste. " Alors, je suppose que vous avez bien en vie de vous marier? (Then I suppose that you are very anxious to be married ?) said Madge. " Certaineraent, il nous tarde de sortir de prison ; et souvent on nous marie avec des personnes que nous n'avons vues qu'une ou deux fois." (Yes, indeed, we like to get out of prison, and we often marry persons whom we have not seen perhaps more than once or twice.) " Cela nous parait horrible, a nous autres Americaines, Celeste ; je crains qu'il n'y ait pas beaucoup d'amour dans un tel mariage." (That seems very dreadful to us Americans, Celeste. I should be afraid that there was not much love in such a marriage) answered Madge. " Eh bien !" ("Oh well) said Celeste. " L'amour pourra venir apres ; beaucoup de dames mariees dans Paris, ont des adinirateurs." (The love may come afterwards. It is a very common thing for married ladies to have their admirers in Paris.) Madge listened amazed, and replied in tones of indignation : "Estil possible que vous puissiez parler si legerement d'un etat si saint!" (Can it be possible that you can really speak so lightly of such a holy state !) Celeste looked up surprised in her turn, for she had so long been accustomed to hear such sentiments that they were now familiar household words. From that moment Madge shrank away from intimacy with Celeste D'Ouville. Thus early had the pernicious influence of a false education began its work upon the young heart ; and thus firmly did the cultivated instincts of Madge Clifford repel the darts of evil principles. Accustomed to the rigors of a constant degrading system of espionage and suspicion, instead of confidence blended with moral instruction, these young French girls had learned most eagerly to covet that which was constantly denied, and had already been privately engaged in secret PRINCIPLES THIED. 133 correspondence with youth of both sexes, hiring servants to carry their letters, and thus daily growing in habits of decep- tion. When out walking one day with the young Americans, on the Boulevards, Madge perceived a very handsome youth approaching their party. As he drew near, glances of recog- nition passed between him and Celeste, while she rapidly placed her finger on her lip, and pointed to a statue near. The youth understood the signal, and quickly deposited some- thing at the foot of the statue. Madge perceived that Celeste as quickly snatched a note from the statue, and rapidly kissing her hand to the youth, led him to understand that she had received it. All this passed in one minute, and Madge saw at a glance what an adept in deception Celeste had become. When alone, she frequently described to the young girls how their teachers used to watch them when at Madame Fontain's pensionnaire. In the garden, in the entries, on the staircase, in the school-room, in the bed-room, everywhere the teacher's hateful eye was watching all their movements; but she laughed, when she told in how many ways they had contrived to deceive them, and how much had been practised there that Madge never dreamed of. And yet these are the schools and this is the system which are frequently chosen by American parents, in order to learn the French language, and be rendered more graceful by French polish. In America, both sexes are allowed to mix freely together. In France, they are studiously kept apart. In America, a good judicious mother relies upon the precepts of morality and religion, which she has early instilled in her daughter's heart. In France, girls are more carefully screened from outward evils. The legal rule is to deem every one innocent, until pronounced guilty ; in France, the reverse is taught, and education conducted accordingly. Let the general results of the two systems be proofs of their adaptation to produce the end desired. Com- pare the general tone of morals in America and in France, and the hundreds of unfaithful, unholy marriages occurring there, aud sanctioned by all classes, will answer at once. The actions of a young American girl, properly educated, which would be 134 EDITH'S MINISTRY. counted only as innocent among us, would ruin the character of a young French girl. And on the contrary, no American matron could escape censure, if following the example of a French wife. The American system certainly allows too much latitude, and exercises too little discipline, but it tends more to preserve the young from habits of falsehood and hypocrisy. Celeste and Laurine D'Ouville were true specimens of a fashionable French education. They had passed their early days in a French pensionnaire, where they had been outwardly restrained and watched, stimulated unwisely by rewards and prizes ; highly polished, but morally neglected ; and as to their religious training, it ended in a few senseless forms. Their code of morals allowed of lies of convenience, politeness and policy ; and the young Cliffords were amazed when they observed not only the young girls, but their governess also, departing constantly from what they had been accustomed to regard as sincerity and truth. One striking instance occurred under their notice. Madam D'Ouville had just purchased a new hat, which Adele thought very unbecoming, and which she had heard ridiculed by the governess, Mademoiselle Du Pont. What was her surprise, when entering the saloon, to hear that lady exclaiming, " Voila un chapeau charmant ! il vous va a ravir, Madame." (What a charming bonnet! you look lovely, Madam.) Celeste, turning to Adele, said, " Ne pensez vous pas qu'il est bien joli ?" (Do you not think it very pretty ?) Adele, accustomed to speak the truth always, and yet not wishing to be impolite, replied, " Dispensez-moi, Celeste, de dire ce que je pense." (Excuse me, Celeste, from saying what I think.) The young French girl elevated her eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and replied, " Que vous etes malhonnete !" (What a rude girl!) Blanche, always anxious to please, said, " Je ne suis pas de votre avis, ma soeur, je trouve que le chapeau lui va parfaite- ment bien." (I do not agree with my sister, and think that the hat is very becoming.) PRINCIPLES TRIED. 135 Adele looked displeased, because she had heard Blanche also ridicule the article ; but, knowing her sister's failing, she was not surprised. Wishing to make the young girls' visit as pleasant as pos- sible, Madame D'Ouville sent out invitations for a select party to meet the strangers. Accordingly, Edith and her sisters were invited. The former politely declined, fearing that the amusements would be such as she had solemnly renounced on the day of her confirmation. She had not forgotten the deep import of those two small words, " I do," when asked if she renewed the solemn vows of baptism. Madge, never particu- larly interested in scenes of gayety, was still led on by curi- osity to make one of the party. Adele and Blanche, both fond of the world and its amusements, looked forward with delight to the evening. A large company of elegantly dressed young persons assembled at the hotel of M. D'Ouville, and everything was conducted in the most fashionable style. Never having been taught the accomplishment of dancing, Adele declined ; but Blanche, who had learned from some of her young compan- ions, joined with great zest in all the amusements of the even- ing. They observed in an adjoining room, tables spread out as if for cards, and were shocked on observing many young persons take their seats, and with the utmost nonchalance, enter into these games, even playing for money, and exhibit- ing the greatest eagerness to win the small piles of money staked on the game. Though not influenced by religious principle, still Adele had too much regard for the lessons of her home to join in such amusements. But Blanche, too weak to resist, even against the whispers of her conscience, allowed herself not only to be led to the tables, but endeavored to learn the game. Her exceeding beauty drew around her many youthful admirers, and both Madge and Adele were disturbed by the character of the scene in which they found themselves placed. They felt that their mother would disap- prove of the whole thing, and wondered why Madame D'Ouville should have made such an entertainment for girls so young as 136 EDITH'S MINISTRY. themselves. Blanche was completely intoxicated ; the dress, the lights, the praise and flattery, almost turned her young brain, and she began to think that she was too closely confined at home. Celeste and Laurine gave her glowing accounts of the French Opera, and she felt an intense desire to see one of these entertainments. A party was accordingly formed, and our young friends urged to go. Madge and Adele both re- fused, although they were anxious to make one of the com- pany. Blanche was silent. When they retired for the night, Celeste said to Mile. Du Pont, "Ne pourrions nous pas faire en sorte que Blanche aille a 1'Opera ?" (Can't we get Blanche to the Opera ?) " Mais oui," replied Mademoiselle, "si elle peut garder le secret; nous n'irons pas ce soir la, nous le remettrons au lendemain, et puis nous ferons semblant d'aller quelqu' autre part, Marguerite et Adele doivent aller chez elles, faire visits a leur mere, et si Blanche veut garder le secret, nous nous arrangerons de maniere que sa mere, n'en sache jamais rien." (I think we can, replied Mademoiselle, if she can keep a secret. "We will not go on the evening appointed, but will put it off until the next evening, and then pretend to go somewhere else. Madge and Adele are going home to see their mother, and if Blanche will keep her own secret, we can manage it, and her mother will never know anything about it.) " C'est dommage," said Celeste, " qu'elle soit privee d' un si grand plaisir, pour un sot caprice de sa mere." (It seems a pity, said Celeste, that she should be deprived of such a plea- sure by such a foolish whim of her mother.) It was proposed to Blanche, who, in her anxiety to partake of the pleasure, forgot the pain which such conduct would give her mother, and consented to the plan. On the evening appointed, Madge and Adele returned home. Blanche remained, and so soon as the coast was clear, started, in one of Laurine's suits to the opera. It could not be said that she enjoyed herself, for the remembrance of her sweet mother's pale face haunted her, and she could not wholly forget PRINCIPLES TRIED. 137 her gentle admonition. She would not, however, allow her feelings to be manifest, for fear of incurring the sharp ridicule of Celeste and M'lle Du Pont. When they returned from the opera, Madge and Adele were already in waiting, and wondered what kept the party out so long. When Blanche entered the room, she was very silent, and her sisters strongly suspected that there was some reason for concealment. They could scarcely have believed that Blanche would have practised such falsehood. When Sunday arived, Madame D'Ouville invited the girls to accompany her to church. Madge and Adele, in accordance with their mother's wishes, declined, and, therefore, attended Protestant services with their mother and Edith. Blanche was so much enchanted with her new friends, and so anxious to secure their good opinion, that she spared no pains to please them. We will behold her entering the church, crossing herself as the rest did, making the sign of adoration, and in all things conforming to the ceremonies of the Romish Church. She was struck on observing so many of the stores opened on the Sab- bath-day ; streets thronged with gaily -dressed people ; the public squares filled, where all kinds of amusement were going on. The places of public resort were everywhere thrown open, and after twelve o'clock, persons of all classes were seeking their own pleasure on God's most holy day. After dinner, Madame D'Ouville proposed a ride to the Tuilleries. Blanche was ready to accompany the party. On observing that they were about to visit a public museum on their return home, notwithstanding the force of early education, for the sake of pleasing French friends, she consented, and thus passed her Sabbath-day in Paris. None could have perceived any indications of the Sabbath in this God-forgetting city. Just the same gayety, and even more devotion to pleasure, was still more manifest than on ordinary days. Indeed, Sunday in Paris is but a holiday. Blanche allowed herself to be carried along with the stream. Observing her evident enjoyment, no one could have supposed that she could have had a religious education. On her visits 138 EDITH'S MINISTRY. home, Edith perceived that her head was almost turned by the scenes through which she had been passing, and consequently, begged that she might be brought back to the shelter of her family. Mrs. Clifford was sadly distressed when observing so many instances of her beautiful child's weakness of character ; for she was well aware that her personal charms must weave around her young footsteps many entanglements. She could not rest until Blanche was once more under the maternal roof; and although the young lady would have prolonged her stay still further, on the following morning she to,ok leave of her friends. After staying a few more days in Paris, the travellers pre- pared to prosecute their journey, and set out with high expec- tations of romantic Switzerland. Edith, fortified by religious principles, had passed the ordeal of life in Paris unharmed. Madge and Adele were glad of the prospect of a change, but Blanche was full of childish sorrow, at the thoughts of leaving her dear Parisian friends. CHAPTER XIII. AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. UR travellers enjoyed their journey, for their spirits were greatly enlivened by the manifest improvement of the dear mother of the flock. Edith wanted nothing but Gerald's society to make her delight complete. Madge was en- chanted, and Blanche and Adele sported among the fair scenes, with all the warm enthusiasm of early youth. Up the mountain side, down through charming valleys, and along the borders of the lakes of Switzerland, they pursued their way by slow journeys, always in sight of the lofty Alps, which were sometimes dressed in green verdure, and enlivened by the picturesque chalets dotted about on the mountain slopes, around which grazed flocks of sheep, nibbling the fresh pastures ; at others, towering away in loneliness towards the heavens, their snowy peaks glistening in the sunshine, or at sunset, tinged with rosy hues, gradually darkening towards the descent, until the shadows of evening falling gloomily upon their base, threw their dark veil over some dusky Inke, sleeping in the deep stillness of mountain solitude. An event soon transpired, which was likely to detain them some time among the mountains. Travelling in a French diligence, they were driving more rapidly than usual down a steep hill. The postilion seemed careless, and Mr. Clifford 139 140 EDITH'S MINISTRY. soon perceived that he was intoxicated. He called out re- peatedly to arrest his speed, but it was all in vain ; crack went the whip, and down flew the horses. Mr. Clifford saw that an upset was almost inevitable. He attempted to seize the reins, but could not, consequently he did the next best thing, which was to endeavor to calm his family. Reach- ing the foot of the hill, the diligence struck violently against a rock, and was upset almost on the edge of a precipice. Mr. Clifford was thrown out, and fell down the deep ravine. The rest of the family were but slightly injured. Edith and Miss Arnold flew to the help of the injured man, but finding, in their despair, that they could not reach him, they looked anxiously around for help. The postilion having succeeded in fastening the horses, was now pretty well sobered, and with the help of a companion who rode outside, succeeded in bring- ing Mr. Clifford out of his perilous situation. Placing him on the roadside, they soon found that he was unable to move, and from his groans, judged that he was severely injured. Edith remembered having passed a charming village about half a mile distant, and in company with Miss Arnold, they turned back, and found that there was a small hotel on the border of the lake, where they could obtain shelter and medical advice. Stating the particulars of the accident they returned with a litter, borne by two men, on which they placed Mr. Clifford, and the rest of the party proceeded on foot, directing the postilion to follow with their baggage. Glad to obtain lodging at a hotel, a messenger was soon despatched for a physician, who pronounced the leg broken. Finding that it was impossible to proceed farther, they engaged rooms, and made preparations for tarrying some weeks among the mountains. After the limb was carefully set they sought their rest ; and at an early hour the next morning, were awakened by the bleating of the sheep, and the sound of the shepherd's horn, calling out the flocks to their mountain pasture. Edith and Madge occupied the same room, and both being equally anxious to see sunrise on the mountains, M ere up betimes. AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 141 The village was built upon the sides and at the foot of the mountain. The picturesque cottages, the church with its spire, the rich foliage, and the placid lake, all formed beautiful pic- tures in the landscape ; but the mountains ! the glorious moun- tains ! held them in speechless delight. First appeared the faint blush of the rosy morning, tinging the snowy peaks ; as the sun rose higher and higher, his bright rays crept down the sides of the mountains, illumining the whole landscape, bringing out trees, cottages, and flocks of sheep, conducted by their shepherds to their early pasture. The Alpine horn, the bleat- ing of the sheep, and the song of the Switzer, rendered the morning air vocal with music, and Edith turning to Madge, said : "Oh! what would Gerald give to see such a glorious pros- pect !" "You remember, Edith, what he said about visiting Europe. I should not be surprised if he is with us this fall. You know he leaves college, this term, and as he is to be an artist, this is just the place for him." Edith smiled brightly, as she replied, " That would be de- lightful, to have Gerald with us. Perhaps he intends a pleasant surprise for us." After their morning devotions, the young girls set off for a walk before breakfast, and came in, glowing with health and exercise, to join the family group around the table. Mr. Clif- ford had passed a restless night. The affectionate wife was solicitous and sad ; but their physician assured them that all was proceeding as well as they could ask, and Mrs. Clifford endeavored to be reconciled. Miss Arnold soon laid out her plans for daily employment. The girls resumed their studies, and devoted two hours each day to their mental improvement. Soon after their arrival, the good pastor of the village, M. Armand, having heard of their accident, called to see them. He was a fine old patriarch, with white hair, and a placid smile, full of the benevolence of his heart. Having lost his wife, his daughter and grandchild lived with the old man. Marietta was a sweet girl of fourteen* 142 EDITH'S MINISTRY. Dressed in her Swiss costume, she was an object of great curi- osity to Blanche and Adele ; and on account of her guileless manners, of much interest to Mrs. Clifford. M. Armand's conversation breathed that strain of earnest piety, which Mrs. Clifford had always looked for among the descendants of the good Waldenses; and she was peculiarly thankful that her stay was to be comforted by the visits of the godly pastor. " Have you a large flock ?" asked Mrs. Clifford. " Not very, madam, for even in modern days we have been the subjects of persecution, and many of our people who were driven from us, have never returned." "What has become of them?" inquired the lady. " Some of them have gone into the towns to live ; some wear the martyr's crown ; and some, worn out by hardship and sor- row, sleep in Jesus : among such was Amie, my wife ; she was a tender lamb, and soon sank beneath the oppressor." " It must be a comfort to have your daughter and her child," answered Mrs. Clifford. " It is a great mercy," said the aged man, raising his eyes to heaven, in humble gratitude. " They are an unspeakable com- fort. My daughter is a solid Christian, and as for Marietta, my pet lamb, she knows her old grandfather loves her." Drawing near, she took his aged hands in her own, and kissing them, said, " Dear grandfather, who could help loving you ?" After inviting the strangers cordially to his house and church, the good pastor took his departure, leaving a deep impression of the sweetness and simplicity of his piety upon all the party. As Marietta reached the door, she ran back to her young friends, and, in the guilelessness of her heart, she whispered to Blanche, "Won't you let me kiss you? You look like the pic- ture of an angel." Blanche, blushing, presented her cheek, and the young girl said, "You will come to see us, soon, won't you, in our humble home?" In a few days, they returned the pastor's visit. It was late in the afternoon, and they found the family at their even- ing meal. They were kindly invited to partake with them AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 143 of their evening repast ; but declining, they remained out on the front porch, until after supper. "Will you join in our evening worship?" said the good pastor. "It is our custom to have it directly after supper, before we feel drowsy." Conducting the party into the family sitting-room, with a calm and serious aspect he opened the hymn-book, and Marietta, taking her seat at a small parlor organ, led the singing in a very sweet and solemn manner. After reading a chapter in the Bible, he engaged in a warm and fervent prayer, in which the youthful guests were kindly remembered. These exercises being over, Marietta sang some of their most beautiful Swiss airs, and Blanche was warm in her expression of delight. " How do you spend your time, Marietta?" asked Blanche. " Oh ! I have plenty to do. In summer I lead the sheep out to pasture, and aid my mother in family cares ; in winter I have a great deal to do, sewing and knitting for the next year, studying to improve my mind, practising on the organ, and waiting on my dear grandfather." " Will you take us with you out on the mountains ?" said Adele. " I shall be very glad to have you go with me," answered Marietta, " but you must wear strong shoes, and common clothes, for many a long walk do I have to take sometimes in very rough places, after my flock." The girls frequently joined Marietta, when their duties for the day were over, and enjoyed the freedom of this pastoral life ex- ceedingly. Marietta often had to check Adele for her adven- turous spirit, fearing that she might meet with some accident. But she was always in high spirits when snuffing the free moun- tain air; and bounding along by the side of Marietta, it was a very difficult task to restrain her wild gambols. One unusually bright and beautiful morning they had joined Marietta in her daily rambles. Adele wore a large flat : in her sport she had dressed it with a wreath of wild flowers. Over her shoulder, suspended by a broad blue ribbon, hung her guitar, for she often took her instrument with her to enliven these rambles. 144 EDITH'S MINISTRY. . Having reached a fine place of pasture, where the sheep were quietly browsing, they all seated themselves in a group * on the green grass. Marietta had taught Adele several of her Swiss melodies, and she, in her turn, had taught the mountain maid some of her own pretty airs. Entirely unconscious of the presence of a stranger, they sang a number of sweet aira together, while Adele accompanied them with her guitar. Not far, from where they sat, screened from their sight by a very large tree, sat a young man, deeply interested in the youthful party. By his side reposed his favorite dog. Suddenly there was some movement among the flock, which started the dog, and before his master could prevent it, he was among the frightened sheep, scattering them in all directions. Up sprang the young girls. Adele soon perceived that the animal was in pursuit of her pet lamb, which she called Patsy. She flew after him not perceiving a chasm which the lamb had crossed. The young man aware of her danger, pursued her, calling out, " Stop, Stop ! Come back, Tray !" but she flew on, alarmed at the voice of a stranger. Reaching the chasm, she gave one spring and succeeded in landing on the opposite side ; but fell, in the effort, to the ground. " Are you not hurt ?" said the youth, as he stooped to raise Adele. Blushing, she endeavored to arise, but could not her ankle was sprained. Raising her eyes, the recognition was mutual. " Do I not see the water-nymph of Windermere, transformed into the wild shepherdess of the Alps ?" said the young man, while a mischievous glance sparkled in his dark eyes. Adele smiled, and though suffering pain, said, " That is my pursuit at present ; but I am ashamed to be seen so often in these wild moods." " May I help you to arise?" said the youth. " Thank you," replied Adele, " I think that I can walk ;" but on making the attempt, she found that she could not stand. "My horse is not far off," replied the young man ; "if you will accept of my escort, I will convey you to your home." " I think that I shall have to trouble you, sir, for I feel that I cannot walk." AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 145 In a short time, the horse was brought around, Adele placed upon it, and his master led him gently along, conversing pleas- antly as they proceeded. When they had reached the hotel, Mrs. Clifford was surprised and pleased to see once more the young stranger who had rescued Adele from a watery grave. Presenting his card, what was their pleasure and surprise to find the unknown no other than Lionel Percy. " Just think, Blanche," said Adele, " that we should have met Mr. Percy again ! How pleasant and kind he is ! I don't won- der that his sisters should think so much of him ; he is just the one to be proud of." " It seems to me, Adele, that I should be afraid of him, if he were my brother ; he has such bright black eyes and such a firm look about his mouth. I should be much more proud of a brother like Gerald," answered Blanche. Mrs. Clifford found that Mr. Percy was travelling with his tutor, and that having Switzerland in their route, they had en- countered him on the mountains, where he was staying fora fuvv \veeks. Taking up his abode at their hotel, he was a plea- sant addition to their company. He waggishly named Adele " The Shepherdess," and soon became quite intimate with the child. Although in her fifteenth year, she was peculiarly childish and sportive in her disposition, and the whole ten- dency of her education being calculated to preserve her sim- plicity, her intercourse with Lionel Percy was frank, sisterly, and playful. Confined to the sofa for two weeks, her tedious hours were pleasantly beguiled, by visits from Marietta and kind attentions from Lionel. Mrs. Clifford esteemed it a great privilege to attend upon the ministry of M. Armand. The simplicity of their worship, and the purity of the doctrines which she heard from the lips of the good pastor, were like refreshing water in a thirsty land. Marietta played upon the organ, and her simple, touching per- formance lent peculiar solemnity to the Sabath devotions. Shut in this mountain village, there were some delays in re- ceiving their letters ; but as they had left particular directions with their agent, they generally received them. 10 146 EDITH'S MINISTRY. Edith had begun to grow somewhat impatient, not having heard from Gerald for some weeks ; but one evening, when the servant brought in a package for Mr. Clifford, her eager eyes ran over the letters, and soon, with glowing cheeks, she recog- nized the familiar hand of dear Gerald. Seizing her letter, she hastily sought her room, where her heart beat and her eye glistened at the joyful intelligence it contained. With her treasure open, she ran to her mamma's room ex- claiming, " Dear mamma, Gerald is coming in the fall ; he will meet us at Pau. Josephine is coming also. I am not very glad of that for I fear her influence upon Madge." "So do I, Edith," answered her mother. " Apart from Josephine, I think that Madge might lose all her foolish notions of independence ; but with Josephine by her side, I fear a return of her old folly." In a few weeks, Mr. Clifford was sufficiently recovered to re- sume his journey. Edith and Madge were sorry to leave the "beautiful mountains. Blanche, with her usually yielding nature, had accommodated herself to the simple habits of Mari- etta, and one might have thought, to judge from her daily con- duct, that she was trying to imitate her childish piety ; indeed, her young heart had been slightly touched by the sweet example of the child, but new scenes and associations quickly oblit- erated these transient impressions. Lionel Percy had parted from them, to pursue his journey on the Continent, but as he had an aunt living in New York, he promised, at some future time, to visit America, with his sister Clara. With many regrets, the family parted from the good pastor and his lovely grandchild, and as he laid his hand in solemn blessing upon the head of Mrs. Clifford, he felt that the message had gone forth that would ere long summon the Christian mother from her flock, and he sighed as he thought that he should see the sweet, pale face, on earth no more. CHAPTER XIV. SCENES NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN. FTER a journey of several weeks, and stopping at many noted places, early in October, they found themselves in sight of Pau, a town in the south of France, celebrated as a resort for invalids, on account of its mild, balmy climate, at all seasons of the year. Their first emotions were those of disappointment ; for, viewing the landscape through the misty atmosphere, dull leaden clouds obscured all the features of beauty which they had expected ; but suddenly the sun shone out revealing a charming valley, stretching out for leagues in splendid forest trees, tinted with all the fading hues of autumn. A wide river, flowing in the midst of the lovely pros- pect, dotted with green islands, where the plaintive song of the nightingale is nightly heard, was an added feature of beauty to the landscape ; and the noise of the foaming waters indicated the mountain source from which it flowed. Capping the hilly eminences opposite, for half a league away, lay the pretty white and tasteful villas, giving life and animation to the dusky land- scape, where the chief features were dark and sombre trees. Beyond all this, nothing was seen for a while but masses of heavy clouds, veiling the most beautiful features of the land- scape. " But where are the Pyrenees ?" said Madge, as she looked in 147 148 EDITH'S MINISTRY. vain for those imposing mountains. "Surely, those low hills cannot be mountains, made so small by distance ?" "While endeavoring to pierce the hazy atmosphere, suddenly a marvellous change occurred. " Look ! look !" said Edith, as the gray wall which had really shut out the glorious prospect, began to melt away. Rolling and quivering, the clouds seemed all alive. Sud- denly an opening appeared, and the sun darted its glittering beams through the cleft clouds, and revealed a snowy peak, glistening in the sunbeams. The landscape increased in mag- nificence; the opening widened more and more, until the whole sky was rent asunder, and there appeared mountain after mountain, each higher and more majestic, until the whole land- scape Avas filled with forms of dazzling grandeur. "Look, Edith," exclaimed Madge, "at that range of moun- tains ! Was there ever anything so grand as that giant, shooting up so abruptly into the heavens ?" " Do you mark the effect of the sun's rays beaming down upon them ?" answered Edith. " The clouds resting upon them are so beautiful, Madge, they seem as if they might almost be the hills upon which the angelic hosts alight in their visits to our earth." " It reminds me, Edith, of the vision of good John Bunyan," answered Madge, " and as if this was like ' Immanuel's Land,' and these were the 'Delectable Mountains' described in his ' Pilgrim's Progress.' I think I remember the very words used when describing them : ' "When the morning was up, they bid him look south ; so he did, and behold ! at a great distance, he saw most pleasant mountains ; a country beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. It was common, too, for all the pilgrims, and from thence might be seen the gate of the celestial city.'" "Dear Madge," said Edith, as she looked affectionately upon her face, " have you any hope of reaching that celestial city ? Can you admire the mere poetical sentiment of such a rest, and live without a real interest in its blessedness ?" SCENES NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN. 149 Madge dropped her eyes, not wishing her sister to read their expression, as she replied, " I once hoped that I might obtain an interest in their possession, but, Edith, that was some time since. I have no particular interest now in these holy subjects." As they proceeded through this splendid and imposing scenery, they were gradually awed into silence, for nothing like these glorious Pyrenees had they ever imagined. When they reached Pau, they soon found pleasant winter accommodations, Protestant services, and agreeable society. There were also several clergymen from their own land, in search of health ; and it was a great comfort to Mrs. Clifford to feel that she was thus spiritually provided for. She lived much out of doors, for the climate was so mild and balmy, that it was at all times more agreeable than in the confinement of the walls of a house. There was much to interest the young people, for expecting to remain all winter, they were ready to form some acquaint- ances among the inhabitants. In the house with themselves resided a French family, composed of a mother and two chil- dren, Henri and Natalie La Bruyere. They were very polite to the strangers, and being about of the same age, were fre- quently with Blanche and Adele in their outdoor sports. They were Roman Catholics, and were brought up by their mother in a very rigid manner as regarded religious observances ; but the same laxity as was prevalent elsewhere, with regard to the observance of the Christian Sabbath, was practised by these young persons. Blanche, anxious to please every one, and to enjoy all that was passing around her, tried to conceal the strict ideas of her mother, and would often speak slightingly of customs prevalent in her own land, as superstition and bigotry. On one Sunday afternoon in October, Blanche was missing from the family circle. She had attended Protestant services in the morning, but after dinner could nowhere be found. Adele had heard her whispering with the La Bruyeres about La Guinguette, an amusement common among the French people on Sunday afternoon ; and knowing the place where they usually assembled, Edith and Adele started in search of the 150 EDITH'S MINISTRY. truant girl. The place for the dance was a large open spa