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 The Yensie Walton Books. 
 
 These books, from the pen of Mrs. S. R. Graham Clark, are possessed 
 of such conspicuous merits, as to secure for them the unqualified com 
 mendation of eminent religious journals such as the Central Christian 
 Advocate, The Journal and Messenger, The New Orleans Christian 
 Advocate, The Lutheran Observer, Christian at Work. The Dover 
 Morning Star, The Gospel Banner, Philadelphia Methodist, Herald 
 and Presbyter, 
 
 YENSIE WALTON. . OUR STREET. 
 
 YENSIE WALTON'S WOMAMHOOD. 
 THE TRIPLE E. ACHOR. 
 
 i2mo, cloth, illustrated, uniform binding, $1.50 each. 
 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " Yensie Walton," by Mrs. S. R. Graham Clark. Boston : D. Lotb- 
 rop & Co. Full of striking incident and scenes of great pathos, with 
 occasional gleams of humor and fun by way of relief to the more tragic 
 parts of the narrative. The characters are strongly drawn, and, in gen 
 eral, are thoroughly human, not gifted with impossible perfections, but 
 having those infirmities of the flesh which make us all akin. It will take 
 rank among the best and most popular Sunday-school books. Episcopal 
 Register. 
 
 A pure sweet story of girl life, quiet, and yet of sufficient interest to hold 
 the attention of the most careless reader. Zion's Advocate. 
 YENSIE WALTON'S WOMANHOOD. 
 
 The many readers who have made the acquaintance of " Yensie Wal 
 ton " in one of the best Sunday-school books ever published, will be de 
 lighted tor^new that acquaintance, and to keep their former companion 
 still further company through life. There is a strong religious tone to the 
 whole story, and its teachings of morality and religion are pure and 
 healthful and full of sweetness and beauty. The story is a worthy suc 
 cessor to Mrs. Clark's previous work. Boston fas/. 
 
 The heroine is an excellent character for imitation, and the entire atmos 
 phere of the book is healthful and purifying. Pittsbitrg Christian Advo 
 cate. 
 OUR STREET, 
 
 By the same author, is a capital story of every day life which deals with 
 genuine character in a most interesting manner. 
 
 THE TRIPLE E, 
 
 Just published, is a book whose provoking title will be at once acknowl 
 edged by the reader as an appropriate one. It fully sustains the author's 
 reputation. 
 ACHOR, a new book in press. 
 
 D. LOTHROP & CO., Publishers, Boston.
 
 Away sped the little girl. Page 12.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. S. R. GRAHAM CLARK. 
 
 " Be like the bird, who, halting in her flight 
 
 Awhile on bough too slight, 
 Feels it give way beneath, and yet sings , 
 Knowing that she hath wings." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY, 
 
 FRANKLIN ST., COBNEB OF HAWLEY.
 
 Copyright by 
 
 V. LOTHROP AND COMPANYj 
 187*
 
 TS 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 To 
 MY WIDOWED MOTHER, 
 
 This book is affectionately inscribed by one who under God, 
 owes all she is, to that tireless mother-energy, super 
 human love and self-sacrificing devotion which 
 through great tribulation guided seven 
 pairs of restless feet, shielded 
 seven defenceless heads. 
 
 SUSIE K. GBAHAM CLARK.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " The full, warm gushings of thy heart 
 Were chilled like fount-drops, frozen as they start" 
 
 MOOBE. 
 
 r~ ^ 
 
 ORE, work, work ! Yes, Mrs. Sarah Wal 
 ton knew what that meant ; piles of 
 snowy linen and home-made socks, stores 
 of sweet cheese and golden butter, full graneries, 
 well-stocked farms, and money in the bank. 
 
 "Work meant all this to her ; but books ! 
 pshaw ! What were they good for anyway, but 
 show. Men with plenty of money ; girls and boys 
 inheriting wealth, might indulge in them, just to 
 make a figure in the world, but they were not 
 bread and butter by any means. 
 9
 
 10 TENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Now her Mildred and Fred, they'd need an 
 education ; they'd be worth quite a little, some 
 day but what in the world did a penniless orphan 
 like her husband's niece want of books ? Nobody 
 was laying up dollars for her ; she'd better be 
 learning to work. 
 
 All this vigorous thinking being done, was 
 "aided by vigorous attacks on the pile of well- 
 folded clothes waiting for ironing, and ended by 
 a hasty plunge to the foot of the narrow stairs 
 and a shrill : 
 
 " Yens, Yens, what on airth air you up to all 
 this time ? Ef you tech a book to-day I'll make 
 your back smart. Is them beds made yet? " 
 
 "How much would you give to know, Mrs. 
 Sail ? You're a Yank, I should think you could 
 guess." 
 
 It was unmistakeably a very saucy voice that 
 spoke; it was unmistakeably a very saucy face 
 that peered over the banister. A small face 
 not small however because God had framed it 
 so but because something this side of its fram 
 ing had pinched it unmercifully. A pair of the 
 blackest of black eyes flashed out from the face ; 
 the knottiest knots of chestnut curls ever seen 
 crowned it ; and a nose not the largest nose in 
 the world, or the smallest nose in the world 
 twisted itself into a variety of funny shapes 
 as she looked at the woman shapes that would 
 have been laughable had they not been so exaspera 
 ting.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 11 
 
 "Come down here," cried the angry woman. 
 "I'll teach you to be sassy to your betters." 
 
 " Will you, will you," moving her head from side 
 to side. " Look out, I'm coming, " swinging her 
 arms, as if about to spring. " What if I should 
 jump on top of your head ? I'd try, but I'm afraid 
 of catching afire. Aunt Sail, why doesn't your 
 head burn up ; it's been afire long enough? " 
 
 Mrs. Walton's face grew nearly as red as her 
 hair at this reference to its color, and she made a 
 dash up over the stairs after the offender. 
 
 But the child was ready for this and evaded her 
 grasp, running to the farther corner of the hall. 
 
 When her aunt sprang after her she stooped sud 
 denly, dodged from under the out-spread hands, and 
 the exasperated woman reached the top of the stair 
 just as the little girl, having slid down the banister, 
 laughed up from below. 
 
 " The old Nick himself is in that one, " growled 
 Mrs. Walton as she hurried over the stairs ; but, as 
 she entered the kitchen the child's dress was just 
 disappearing through the door, a sweet fresh baby 
 face vanishing with it. 
 
 A moment after the woman heard a really sweet 
 voice from under the budding lilac trees chanting 
 in no under-tone : 
 
 " Aunt Sail is awful inad, 
 What shall we send her ? 
 A box of pills to cure her ills, 
 And a slice of good-nature. 
 What shall we send it in ?"
 
 12 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 But Yensie's rhyming was destined to end sud 
 denly ; her aunt, fully determined to chastise her 
 this time, dashed down the yard. 
 
 Down went baby Maude on the grass and 
 away sped the little girl, the tall, gaunt woman flying 
 behind. Aunt Sarah Walton should have known, 
 after six months' experience, that she was no match 
 for the agility of this child. 
 
 What a race she did lead her. Down through 
 the garden, across the lot, into the orchard, 
 around by the brook, then back to the yard again, 
 only at last to find herself beneath a tall cherry 
 tree, and the young monkey laughing and chatter 
 ing to her from the topmost bough. 
 
 It was no sort of use, she might as well give her 
 up this time, as the irons were over-heating in the 
 kitchen. Dinner hour would find her with the 
 ironing undone ; so the tired and chagrined 
 woman turned to the house, after shaking her fist 
 several times up the tree. 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to ? " said the child, tanta- 
 lizingly. 
 
 " Come down, or I'll kill you when I do ketch 
 you," was the reply. 
 
 " No, I thank you ; I'd rather be killed outright, 
 than pounded to jelly. Good morning, Mrs. Sail." 
 
 Mr. Walton, coming through the yard, saw the 
 latter part of this scene and quite understood it. 
 He stopped beneath the tree. 
 
 " What ! you ain't naughty again, Yensie ? "
 
 YENSEE WALTON. 13 
 
 *' O no, Uncle. It's the old naughty not gono 
 yet. I'll never get any more when this is gone ; but 
 it is a long piece and stretches. O, Uncle John, a 
 whole nest full of robin's eggs ! Listen and I'll 
 show you how they'll sing in a few weeks ;" and 
 then began such a chirping and twittering as would 
 have been creditable to any nest of robins, and 
 set Mr. Walton laughing in spite of himself. 
 
 The smile was still on his face as he entered the 
 house. 
 
 " That's right, John Walton, that's right, laugh at 
 her !" said his excited wife. " I'd a brought her to 
 terms before this if it hadn't been for you. You 
 uphold her in all she does." 
 
 " Now Sally, now Sally, that isn't quite fair," 
 began the man deprecatingly. " I have tried my 
 best to have her mind *you ; but who could help 
 laughing and she chirping and twittering away like 
 a whole nest full of robins ? I think the fault is 
 with your management, Sarah. She was good and 
 quiet enough when she first came here, and Robert 
 said a better child never lived." 
 
 Sarah Walton's nose gave a very significant 
 snort, her shoulders a very significant shrug : 
 
 " Then saints do lie ! for that's- an out-and-outer, 
 if Robert Walton did say so. " 
 
 " Sarah, you're speaking of the dead ; " reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 " Dead or no dead it's a lie. That's the sassiest 
 good-for-nothin'est, most mischief-making imp I ever
 
 14 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 saw, I wish I had let her die, when she had the 
 fever. Look at my morning's ironing ! The very 
 old Satan's in her that's a fact." And John Walton 
 sighed as he left the room without another word. 
 
 While this conversation was going on within 
 the house, the little girl had descended from her 
 lofty perch, and resumed her seat beside the baby. 
 
 While she sits musing under the lilac boughs, let 
 us take a short retrospect of her life. 
 
 John and Robert Walton were the two sons of a 
 sturdy farmer and tenderly attached to each other, 
 though differing widely both mentally and physic 
 ally. John being very short, stout, blue-eyed and 
 sandy-whiskered, and a natural farmer ; his brother 
 tall, slender, dark-eyed and dark-haired, and a man 
 of books. 
 
 They were both intelligent ; but John was quite 
 satisfied with a common school education, Robert 
 hardly content with a college course. Soon after his 
 graduation however Robert married Yensie's mother 
 and went with her to England, her native land, 
 which she had left two years before to travel 
 with an invalid mother, then buried beneath Amer 
 ican soil. 
 
 After years of childlessness Yensie had come to 
 cheer the old mansion-house for many years the 
 abode of her ancestors. But alas, the day whose 
 dawning opened the babe's eyes to the light of time 
 wafted the mother-spirit at even-tide, to the bosom 
 of eternity, and there was left instead of a childless
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 15 
 
 wife, a motherless child to battle with life's certain 
 ties of pain and grievings. The mother had whispered 
 in her last hour the name she would have her child 
 bear, " Elsie." The father thought the word that 
 faltered on her tongue, and this had bSen her grand 
 mother's name ; old nurse Ann, who had borne the 
 dying woman in her arms oft as a helpless babe, 
 thought she said " Yensie ; " but even as the word 
 hung trembling on the stiffening lips, they were 
 touched to sweeter melody, and she entered the 
 gates of glory singing the song of the redeemed. 
 
 The stricken man turned all the channels of his 
 affection upon his little motherless babe, and after 
 she grew old enough to know his voice, to call his 
 name and listen for his step, she was with him 
 almost constantly. 
 
 Yensie, old nurse persisted in calling her, and 
 soon it was adopted by all others. As she grew 
 older her father tired more and more of active life ; 
 his health too grew slender and gradually he re 
 signed one care after another until his entire bus 
 iness was entrusted to a partner. His child now 
 next to his God was his life, and for her and her 
 comfort and advancement, he planned continually. 
 
 As years passed by, this father perceived that his 
 child was rarely gifted. All the talents of both her 
 parents seemed concentrated and enlarged in her. 
 She inherited her mother's musical voice with great 
 er compass, and sweeter, fuller cadence ; her father's 
 love of books, and as well a marvellous insight into
 
 16 TENSIB WALTON. 
 
 thought, for one so young, and a poet's quick intui 
 tion of the beautiful. Her tastes were grand and 
 pure, her imagination rich and vivid ; and before the 
 diversified gifts of his offspring he often stood 
 amazed. She was his companion constantly, shar 
 ing his pleasures and studies, learning early many 
 things which age seldom acquires, while totally ig 
 norant of much which children generally know. 
 
 Thus Yensie's sliort eight years had passed, amid 
 all the luxuries with which wealth and taste could 
 surround her, flattered by the servants, petted by 
 friends, the pride and delight of her father. Is it 
 wonder that, unperceived by her indulgent pa 
 rent, the seeds of pride and arrogance were being 
 sown ? Always gentle and affectionate, her father 
 never dreamed of the depths of passion beneath 
 that calm exterior waiting but the finger of adver 
 sity to be roused into a burning flame ; a sleeping 
 demon needing but the chafing and friction of 
 Valley Farm to rouse him into action. 
 
 What this father's dreams concerning his child 
 had been, as day after day, she sat at his feet in 
 the quaint, old-fashioned library, who can tell? 
 Enough to know they were blasted. A day of ca 
 lamity was upon them. 
 
 One morning Robert Walton woke, like many 
 another wealthy man, to find himself penniless. 
 In a time of general business depression, when 
 men were losing largely through bank failures, he 
 found his partner had indulged in large and rash
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 17 
 
 speculations, and that he could not weather the 
 storm, but was hopelessly involved. 
 
 After days and nights of unwearied research he 
 found his house must go also ; that his child was 
 well nigh penniless. 
 
 Was it the mental exertion, the suddenness of 
 the shock, that hastened disease in its ravages ? 
 Certain it is he was taken immediately to his bed, 
 never to rise again. 
 
 Through all his sickness his little girl was with 
 him constantly, tending him with unwearied care, 
 soothing him by her touch when all others failed ; 
 the promise of a noble womanhood, her father 
 thought as he watched her flitting hither and 
 thither so noiselessly, or felt her cool, soft hand 
 upon his brow. 
 
 How anxious she was that he should get well I 
 If only he did not die ! She did not understand 
 death, had never looked on it ; but she felt it was 
 something fearful, and remembering her mother's 
 grave, pictured one beside it and shuddered. 
 
 A day came when every heart in the great house 
 sank for the little one who so patiently watched, so 
 hopefully waited to see " papa well." For the phy 
 sician had said "no hope," and she was the only 
 one in all the house who did not know it. 
 
 Her father had expected death and sent weeks 
 before for her uncle ; and now he prayed earnestly 
 that he might come before he should die. And 
 John Walton came ; but only a few hours before
 
 18 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 that other expected guest who wears so cold a face, 
 so relentless a brow. Just long enough to receive 
 the parting instructions of his brother in respect 
 to his child, and a small sum of money saved from 
 the wreck, with which to educate her ; to hold the 
 dying head upon his breast and close the soulless 
 eyes. 
 
 Poor little Yensie ! With her ardent tempera 
 ment there were no half-loves, no midway griefs. 
 Life of her little life had been this father-love, and 
 her sorrow, though silent, was terrible in the in 
 roads it made even on her frame. She reached 
 Valley Farm only to be laid low with brain fever, 
 her life endangered many weeks. 
 
 'Twas on the old dining-room settle, while con 
 valescing, that she made her first real acquaint 
 ance with the inhabitants of the red farm house. 
 Let us take a peep at them also, reader. 
 
 Dear, easy-going Uncle John was very unlike 
 his wife in disposition. Tall, lank and wiry, the 
 machinery of life with her was never well-oiled, 
 and always squeaked unmercifully. She was 
 noted miles around for her tongue, and few who 
 had ever come in contact with it desired to make 
 further acquaintance. 
 
 It was a common threat with her : " If they feel 
 the weight of my tongue." 
 
 Now whether the actual weight of her tongue 
 had ever been ascertained, is at this day uncertain ; 
 but this one fact is incontestible, the neighbors
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 19 
 
 universally avoided her, and when thrown in her 
 company were very conciliatory in their manners 
 and remarks. From which we may at least judge 
 that whether her tongue was as weighty as she 
 supposed, it was duly appreciated. 
 
 As it was fall when Yensie first arrived at Val 
 ley Farm, there was but one man on the place be 
 side her uncle : " Jinks " as he was called. A dis 
 tant relative of her father's, and a valuable farm 
 hand. A dark-browed, stern man, he was, of 
 thirty, or thereabouts, whom everybody seemed to 
 avoid, and whom she soon began to shun and 
 dread. Not that he treated her ill he never ap 
 peared to notice her but because, like a dark 
 cloud, he obscured the sky whenever he ap 
 proached. 
 
 Beside these were three children : Milty, a 
 pretty child of six summers, with blue eyes and 
 loose brown curls and blooming face; Fred, a 
 merry, brown-eyed boy of three, crowned with his 
 mother's red hair ; and wee Maude, a sweet, frag 
 ile, blue-eyed babe of four months, soon the com 
 fort and joy of the lonely orphan to whose charge 
 she was generally committed. 
 
 It did not take Yensie long to discover that her 
 uncle was not master of his own house, but that 
 his wife tyrannized over him as she did over all 
 others, and unconsciously she felt an almost con-
 
 20 
 
 YENSIB WALTON. 
 
 temptuous pity for him. Little Mildred, indeed, 
 was the real ruler of the house ; to her even Mrs. 
 Walton bowed, and toward her ere long our little 
 friwl entertained a dislike nearly akin to hatred.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " O nature ! is there naugbt to prize, 
 Familiar in thy bosom scenes of life ? " 
 
 CAMPBELL. 
 
 PRIL, with its sunny skies and sudden 
 showers, its smiles and tears fit em 
 blem of life came and went. May, 
 with her budding trees and opening flowers, lin 
 gered awhile and departed. And June, tender- 
 eyed, beautiful in her young womanhood, entered 
 the year with trailing vines and beauteous flowers, 
 radiant with sunshine, welcomed by sweetest mu 
 sic, and wafted along by breezes soft as a mother's 
 touch, and glad as infant melody. 
 
 With what a wondrous glory did this queen of 
 months surround the old red farm-house ! Yensie 
 almost held her breath with delight as she looked 
 21
 
 22 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 from her window that first June morning, and be 
 held the glorious prospect. 
 
 A lovely scene, indeed, spread out before her ! 
 Valley Farm it had well been called, for all about 
 rose green-capped hills, studded now with dande 
 lion blossoms; and beyond, in the distance, she 
 could catch a glimpse of mountain tops rising dim 
 and grey in the early light. 
 
 Directly in front of her window emerald fields, 
 gay too with flowers stretched themselves, and be 
 yond there lay a belt of woods every day unfold 
 ing new beauties to this child of nature. 
 
 She could hear, as she leaned from the open 
 window, the gentle murmur of the little stream, 
 which, rising in a distant hill-top, wound through 
 her uncle's farm, finding its way to the little vil 
 lage where it turned the great wheel of the grist 
 mill. 
 
 The village ! Yes, she could see it from her 
 lofty perch. And how pretty it looked with its 
 neat white cottages nestled beneath the trees, its 
 variety store and grocerj^, dignified, too, by a white 
 sign on which " Post-office " was printed in large 
 black letters. Then there was the little church, of 
 which the villagers were so justly proud, erected 
 by the owner of the great house of Wynn, and 
 lifting a spire, which would vie with any for miles 
 around, to the early morning sun. 
 
 She could see good Dr. Morse's " grey-front," 
 and Squire Grey's brown one ; and beyond all
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 23 
 
 these, perched on the hill, the great white " Man 
 sion House," as it was usually called, looking very 
 cold and stiff and proud, she fancied, as if saying 
 to the dwellings beneath it : "I am king here, be 
 hold me ! '' 
 
 This house, she had been told, was seldom in 
 habited by other than the housekeeper and a few 
 servants, in the winter season, but was wont to be 
 very gay when warm weather set in. She had 
 heard her aunt questioning her husband only a 
 few days before as to whether Mr. Robinson, the 
 present owner of the house, had arrived; and 
 wondered if he was very different from those about 
 her. Her father had been different ; what made 
 him so, he was Uncle John's brother? Was all 
 the difference in education ? Was she to be left 
 ignorant and uncultured, to grow up like Aunt 
 Sarah ? She shuddered at the thought ; to her 
 this was the calamity of calamities. 
 
 Quietly she dressed, and taking her sun-bonnet, 
 sought the fields, her heart still heavy with its fear. 
 She was not generally the outspoken, saucy little 
 girl of our introduction. Only on odd occasions, 
 when driven out of herself, she conducted thus. 
 Naturally, she was far more wont to think than 
 speak, to muse than give vent to her feelings; 
 and many t \vice her age could scarce appreciate 
 the anguish of the ambitious child as she brooded 
 over her ignorance this sunny morn. 
 
 But there was something in nature that always
 
 24 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 appealed to the heart of this child, a quieting 
 soothing influence it held over her. She alwaj^s 
 felt, after a ramble in the woods, as some people 
 do after reading the Bible ; that she wished to be 
 better. Now, as she stood beneath the grand old 
 trees, with unconscious reverence she took her 
 bonnet from her head, and lifting her face to the 
 skies, repeated the beautiful words listened to, 
 Sabbath after Sabbath, in her far away home : 
 " The Lord is in his holy temple, let all the earth 
 keep silence before him." 
 
 Yensie was not alone ; she had a listener, a lad 
 of some fifteen years of age, perhaps slight and 
 well-dressed, with a bright, dark, handsome face, 
 roguish black eyes (very quiet now, however,) 
 and a head as curly as her own. He had been re 
 garding her for some time, and now said, abruptly: 
 
 "Little girl, do you think God is really here, 
 that you speak in that tone ? " 
 
 How the child started ! What eyes, filled with 
 pleasure and surprise, she turned to him ! What 
 was it caused that thrill of joy to pass through her 
 soul at the sound of his voice ? Why, with its 
 first intonation had come remembrances of father, 
 home, and the blessed associations of the past? 
 Had Yensie been older she would have known that 
 it was education, culture, good-breeding, that gave 
 his voice its peculiar charm. As it was, she could 
 think of but one cause, and turning her eyes full 
 on the lad, she asked in joyous tremulousness :
 
 YENSIB WALTON. 25 
 
 " Why, when did you leave England ? " 
 
 Poor little puzzled Yensie ! She was quite 
 taken aback by the merry, ringing laugh which 
 greeted her question ; a laugh repeated over and 
 over again, gaining fresh impulses from every 
 glimpse of her troubled face. 
 
 " O, you strange little elf ! What made you ask 
 such a question ? 1 never saw England in my 
 life," he said at length, when quieted. 
 
 " Never saw England ! " What consternation 
 Yensie's features betrayed. " Where did you come 
 from ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, I was dropped from the clouds during the 
 rain storm night before last, and have put up at 
 the mansion house ever since," he laughed. 
 
 " There, don't get offended, little Englishee," 
 seeing the indignant child about to turn away. " I 
 came from New York night before last, am visit 
 ing my Uncle Robinson at the mansion house. I 
 am going to remain a few weeks before starting 
 for school ; suppose you and I become friends?" 
 
 But the little girl was regarding him almost sor 
 rowfully : 
 
 " And you are an American, after all, she said. 
 " I didn't think you could be, you are so nice and 
 pretty." 
 
 " I suppose I am expected to take that as a com 
 pliment, you little bunch of prejudice. Why 
 should you think an American gentleman an im 
 possibility ? Who brought you up, I should like 
 to know ? " cried the boy.
 
 26 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " My father brought me up, and he was a gen 
 tleman," replied the child with dignity. 
 
 " And he taught you to consider all Americans 
 as a sort of barbarians, lacking culture and refine 
 ment almost civilization" he said hotly. 
 
 " No, he did not," cried the little girl, stamping 
 her foot indignantly. He was an American him 
 self, and knew more than any one I ever saw. He 
 loved America and wanted me to, but I can't, I 
 can't. I am only a poor, wicked little girl here ; 
 I wish I was back in England, close by his grave. 
 O papa, papa ! " and throwing herself on the wet 
 grass she sobbed. 
 
 The boy had a tender heart. He stooped and 
 laid his hand gently on her brown head, whisper 
 ing: 
 
 " Don't cry, little girl." 
 
 But she stopped him fiercely. 
 
 " Go away," she cried, lifting her red eyes to his 
 face ; " go away ! You know I don't want you to 
 watch me. You are like all the rest of them, if 
 you are handsome ! Go away, I hope I shall 
 never see you again ; " and turning about with a 
 half-laugh, he departed. 
 
 This June day was destined to be a day of trial 
 to our little friend, yet it ended pleasantly. Her 
 uncle told her that night that he had been to the 
 village to see Miss Gray, the school teacher, and 
 that early on the morrow he would drive her over 
 to be examined, and then to the city to buy her
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 27 
 
 books ; and she fell to sleep with a glow in her 
 heart not there for months. 
 
 Fierce, indeed, had been Mrs. Walton's opposi 
 tion when her husband first spoke of his plans in 
 respect to the education of his niece. But the 
 man was prepared for opposition, and met it in a 
 way quite unusual. Quietly, yet firmly, he told 
 her his purposes could not be shaken, and met her 
 wrathy words with so imperturbable a front that 
 she withdrew behind a sullen countenance, and 
 neither heard or saw more. 
 
 The next morning, after breakfast, all in a flut 
 ter of excitement, Yensie clambered to her attic 
 room to prepare herself for a visit to the village 
 school. It was so delightful, this thought of 
 school and books ; even Aunt Sarah's frowning 
 face had been powerless to disturb her joy. 
 
 The first sober look came with sight of her 
 dress, that did not suit her at all. It was an un 
 gainly thing at best ; and to one used to wearing 
 beautiful, tasteful garments, positively repulsive. 
 She never put it on without realizing that it was 
 ill-shapen and too long, and made her look awk 
 ward ; but what could she do, it was all she had ? 
 
 She brushed and combed faithfully at the tangle 
 of curls so unused to care, and then, donning the 
 despised dress, surveyed herself in the little bit of 
 cracked glass she used for a mirror. 
 
 She was quite in despair at her appearance after 
 all her labor. That hateful, dark calico dress, un-
 
 28 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 relieved by even a bit of lace in the neck, was just 
 .horrid ; and the little thin face looked to her 
 smaller and homelier than ever, with the masses of 
 bushy hair standing out all about it, and the great 
 distended, vexed eyes looking so dolefully about. 
 
 " It isn't a bit of use to try to be like any one 
 else," she cried, desperately. " Aunt Sarah won't 
 curl my hair, I know, and I can't wear it this way. 
 I'm a great mind to cut it all off. I will ! " des 
 perately. And so it happened that when Uncle 
 John peeped under the sun-bonnet waiting for him 
 at the door, he found a little " croppy boy," as he 
 laughingly declared, instead of his curly-haired 
 niece. 
 
 Very pleasant was the ride to the village, and 
 not altogether unpleasant was the visit to the 
 school-room. For, though the sensitive child 
 could not be unconscious of the curious, amused 
 glances of the scholars at her appearance, she for 
 got her discomfiture in Miss Grey's kind greeting, 
 and yielded her heart and hand together, that first 
 moment, into the lady's keeping. 
 
 A strange examination it proved. Yensie's en 
 tire ignorance of arithmetic, and many things 
 known by her youngest pupils, astonishing the 
 teacher not more than her singular acquaintance 
 with history and nature, and her rare expression 
 in reading. The rich, full voice, the pure, sweet 
 tones, the perfect accent and pronunciation, 
 charmed the lady ; and no praise could have been
 
 YENSIE WALTON. W 
 
 deaier to the little girl than that accorded, re 
 flecting, as it did, honor on her loved father : 
 
 " Dear child, you have indeed been blessed with 
 a teacher of no common attainments, when a pupil 
 of your age can appreciate*, and so read such 
 poetry." 
 
 What a wonderful day this was, altogether ! 
 Green forever in her memory I That long ride to 
 the city, that dinner in the restaurant ; then to be 
 made possessor of four nice books and a slate ; 
 and, as if the day had gone mad with good things, 
 to be taken into a dry-goods establishment and 
 allowed to select a new dress, with the promise 
 that it should be made just like the other girls', by 
 Miss Crane, the village seamstress. 
 
 Proud was the heart that beat in the bosom of 
 the little girl as she rode back to Wynn that 
 evening ; for in her pocket lay a bright cherry 
 ribbon, all her own, purchased by her uncle, with 
 sundry wise hints as to keeping it " safe out of 
 Sally's sight." 
 
 Much as Yensie desired to begin study, she 
 would gladly have deferred going until her new 
 dress was completed, remembering the smiles and 
 sneers of Miss Grey's pupils. 
 
 Mr. Walton had thought of this, and kindly 
 suggested that she should delay until the next 
 Monday, the week having already been broken up. 
 But Aunt Sarah had no idea of complying with 
 such notions. " And all those books idle that coat 
 such money, she shouldn't think of it."
 
 30 Y.ENSIE WALTON. 
 
 So the little girl was bidden to prepare herself. 
 
 " You may as well stop on your way and be 
 measured for your dress," said Mrs. Walton, as the 
 child left the house ; her books neatly stowed 
 away in a gingham bag her aunt made her sew up 
 the night before, while she covered the slate-frame 
 and books. 
 
 All the way down the garden-path bag in one 
 hand, dinner-basket in the other Yensie carried 
 a very doleful face, her eyes resting on her dress. 
 But on reaching the lane leading from the house, 
 she was surprised at sight of her uncle. 
 
 *' I had corn to carry to the mill," he said, " and 
 thought I would give you a lift, and stop with you 
 at Miss Crane's, to hurry her a bit on the dress. 
 Don't look so unhappy, little girl ; it will soon be 
 finished, and you're brave enough to stand a little 
 laughing, I know." 
 
 Mr. Walton did as he said, and his little niece 
 certainly looked relieved when she heard the 
 dressmaker assure him the dress should be made 
 immediately ; but the cloud began to settle again, 
 when a little after, he left her a few yards from 
 the school-house. 
 
 " Come, come," he said jocosely, " you don't ex 
 pect your old uncle to go to schoo] with you ; that 
 would make the girls laugh, to be sure. Now, 
 give me a kiss and be a woman. You're worth 
 half a dozen of those little fancy misses " and 
 he was gone.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 31 
 
 The little girl looked after him, her heart beat 
 ing fast with fear ; but she proceeded to the school 
 house. Standing outside the door, she could hear 
 the hum of voices, and knew that she was late. 
 While she still halted, Miss Grey came to the 
 door, having seen a shadow flit past the window. 
 
 " Why, Yensie, is this you ? I had given you 
 up for to-day. You are a little late, but I suppose 
 I must excuse you as you are a new scholar, and 
 unused to school usages." 
 
 " I had to stop at Miss Crane's, and be meas 
 ured for a dress," stammered the child. And Miss 
 Grey, saying cheerfully, " ' A -poor beginning 
 makes a good ending' ; I shall expect to find you 
 in season hereafter," conducted her to the dress 
 ing room, assigning her a hook for her bonnet. 
 
 " I think you may sit with Jennie Mason. Jen 
 nie, please rise, that the little girl may see where 
 you sit." And Yensie, with downcast eyes and 
 blazing cheeks, made her way through the curious 
 eyes to her seat.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "The dark clouds are breaking, the bent bow is here." 
 
 T would be useless to follow our little 
 friend through the details of that first 
 day at school. Not naturally either awk 
 ward or uncouth (childhood seldom is) a sense of 
 her personal appearance made her extremely so, 
 and her discomfort was great. 
 
 Miss Grey noting this, and hoping to divert her 
 attention, and prepare her for a happier recess, 
 bade her pupils take out their singing books just 
 before the noon dismissal. 
 
 "Jennie," she said, "please allow your seat- 
 mate to share 3 T our book. In making out her list 
 of books, the singing-book quite escaped me." 
 The little orphan listened to the first few lines, 
 32
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 33 
 
 every nerve thrilling with, delight. Music was 
 rest, comfort, joy to her. How entranced she used 
 to sit in the dim old English Cathedral when 
 scarcely past babyhood, listening breathlessly to 
 the grand organ whose melody seemed, even then, 
 to waft her beyond earth. Now, as she listened to 
 this childish glee-song, the discomfiture of the 
 morning and the surrounding faces, were all for 
 gotten, as she joined the happy strain. 
 
 Miss Grey's quick ear caught the sweet, pure 
 tones. The voice, so rich, so full, so flexible, in 
 reading, was not less so in song. Clear, ringing, 
 sweet, it led all the rest without a seeming effort, 
 filling the room with its melody. 
 
 The delighted teacher smiled as she caught sight 
 of Jennie Mason's rapt face, with its open mouth 
 and surprised eyes, fixed full on the unconscious 
 singer. 
 
 "Another song, I think, before we close," she 
 said. And again the lady listened attentively, 
 with the same result ; the stranger's voice carrying, 
 engulfing all the rest; and with a little sigh of 
 satisfaction, Miss Grey dismissed the school for the 
 noon hour. 
 
 Many of the girls living in the immediate neigh 
 borhood of the school, went home to dinner ; yet 
 many more had brought theirs, as had our little 
 friend; and she watched them, as with dinner 
 pails and luncheon baskets, they went out, one by 
 one, leaving her alone with her teacher.
 
 34 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 "You love to sing, my child," said the lad} r , ap 
 proaching her. "Your voice has been cultivated 
 somewhat ; you read music ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied the little girl. " I can 
 scarcely remember when I did not ; but I had for 
 gotten I knew how to sing, it is so long since I 
 have tried." 
 
 "You must take my singing-book," her teacher 
 continued. " I can readily get another ; and you 
 must sing at home. It will help you and help 
 others. But now you must go out to play." 
 
 " I don't wish to go out," said Yensie, shrinking 
 back. 
 
 " But I shall insist on your going, nevertheless." 
 And Yensie, looking up into the pale, sweet face, 
 saw decision written there. " For your own sake 
 you must go out. You are none too rosy, and 
 have been confined all the morning. Then, too, I 
 must have a portion of this hour to rest myself ; 
 afterwards, I will join you in the pla} 7 -ground." 
 
 Yensie felt it would be quite useless to protest 
 further, and went out. 
 
 The village of Wynn might reasonably be proud 
 of its one school-house ; a good, substantial brick 
 building, a little out of the village, in an opposite 
 direction from Valley Farm; well-built, well-ven 
 tilated, standing in the midst of a large lot. 
 There the sun lay all day, stealing in at one win 
 dow or another.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 3o 
 
 The lot immediately about the building had 
 been cleared for a playground; but farther back 
 the trees and bushes clustered closely together, 
 forming a delicious retreat to those who preferred 
 rest, or quiet talk, away from the heat. 
 
 As Yensie reached the door, one rapid glance 
 took in the scene. In one corner of the great 
 clearing, a number of the little girls were playing 
 house ; part of their food spread on their napkins 
 on the grassy sward. Here and there were scat 
 tered groups of the older girls; some laughing 
 and talking, some playing, others still studying. 
 How to pass all these unobserved, and reach the 
 shelter of the trees beyond, where she might eat 
 her dinner quietly, was the problem she wished to 
 solve. 
 
 She accomplished this, however, favored only by 
 a few rapid glances from the little ones too busy 
 with their play to bestow upon her more than a 
 look as she passed. 
 
 While sitting, completely hidden from observa 
 tion by the thick undergrowth, a number of her 
 school-mates, about her own age, approached. 
 
 " Did you ever see such a fright ? All her face 
 is eyes, and her head" here the speaker burst 
 into a laugh " girls, did you ever see hair cut in 
 that style before ; quite bare in places ? " 
 
 The hot blood started to Yensie's face. They 
 must be speaking of her. 
 
 " Perhaps she has had sores on her head," sug-
 
 36 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 gested one ; and the little orphan began to feel her 
 blood boil in her veins. 
 
 " She is going to have a new dress," said an 
 other; and all the girls began to laugh, while the 
 first speaker added : " I should say not a moment 
 before it is absolutely necessary. Now girls, 
 really, didn't she look as if she had just come out 
 of the ark?" 
 
 " But you know she hasn't any mother." 
 
 Yensie recognized this voice. It belonged to 
 sweet Jennie Mason, her seat-mate. 
 
 " And she sings just like the woman I heard in 
 New York," said another. 
 
 More like the dear, precious birds than anything 
 else," said Jennie, warmly. 
 
 " Pooh, sing ! Wiry, yes, she can sing ; so can 
 other girls, I suppose ; and if they can't they can 
 cipher. A big girl like her not know addition ! 
 "Why, little Rosy Hart can beat her in arithmetic. 
 I wouldn't come to school if I didn't know that 
 much." 
 
 Then how would you ever learn, if you hadn't 
 anybody at home to teach you. And she knows 
 more than any of us in other things," protested 
 Jennie, bravely. "For my part, I mean to love 
 her and help her. Poor little girl, with no mother 
 or anybody ! " continued the tender-hearted little 
 advocate. And the listener began to cry softly at 
 the thought of her desolation so pictured. 
 
 A moment before, she had been ready to battle
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 37 
 
 those girls, but the pleading. voice of her little de 
 fender was cooling the lava in her veins, and she 
 hoped they would move off, that she need not hear 
 more. 
 
 "Now, Jennie Mason, that'o just like you," 
 cried the first speaker ; a gaily-dressed girl. " Hon 
 est, truly, did you ever see such a looking fright as 
 she is in your life before ? " 
 
 Thus besieged, Jennie admitted slowly, that she 
 never did, quite. " But then, you know," she 
 added, " she did not make her own dress." 
 
 " No, and I wouln't wear it either, or, if I did, 
 I'd never let decent folks see me," retorted the 
 young lady. 
 
 "My mother says there's nothing dishonorable 
 in being poor or shabby, if we look as well as we 
 can. And I think she is much nobler than I 
 should be, to come to school that wa} r , rather than 
 stay at home and be ignorant, just because the 
 girls laugh at her. I'm sure it isn't her fault if 
 she is a scare-crow," said Nelly Hunt. " It's that 
 horrid aunt of hers. Sally Walton don't know 
 anything anyhow." 
 
 " She knows how to save money, my mother 
 says," laughed one. 
 
 " And how to scold, I've heard," said another. 
 
 "And they do say," cried a third, "that she 
 took all this little girl's fine clothes and gave them 
 to Milly." 
 
 " Pooh ! I don't believe it," said number one.
 
 38 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 If she did, they were not very fine, or I never saw 
 them on Milly." 
 
 " Because," said Nelly Hunt, "she never wore 
 them. Yensie cut holes all over the skirts of 
 them ; my aunt said so, and Mrs. Walton told 
 her." 
 
 " Plucky I " cried one. 
 
 " Just like her," said Miss Fancy. 
 
 '* Good ! " cried two or three, and all laughed, 
 while Nelly added something about their being too 
 small for her, and she might have given them to 
 her cousin. 
 
 " Conundrum," cried she of the fine clothes, 
 who pretended also to be a wit. " Why is little 
 Englishee like a red herring ? " 
 
 " Because she has more bones than meat," cried 
 one. 
 
 "Because she has no hair on the top of her 
 head, the place where the wool ought to grow," 
 cried another. 
 
 " I give up ! " screamed a third. 
 
 " Shame, shame ! " said some of the older young 
 ladies, who were just passing by the group. 
 
 But Yensie had heard enough. Without one 
 thought of anything but the insult heaped upon her, 
 she sprang from her hiding-place, and before any 
 one was aware of her presence, she had caught the 
 conundrum-maker in her arms, and flung her to 
 the earth. 
 
 " Miss Grey, Miss Grey ! " cried a dozen voices,
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 39 
 
 just as the teacher appeared round the side of the 
 school-house, and the younger children came flock 
 ing to the place. 
 
 A few of the young ladies had helped Carrie 
 Hastings to her. feet, her nose bleeding profusely. 
 Yensie, abashed, shocked at her own conduct, 
 stood with downcast eyes, the picture of a help 
 less, hopeless culprit, before the surprised, grieved 
 face of her teacher. 
 
 Without remark, Miss Grey led Carrie to the 
 school-room, bidding Yensie follow. Quietly she 
 bathed the bruised forehead, and applied a piece 
 of sticking-plaster, which one of the older scholars 
 happened to have in her pocket. Then, when the 
 nose had ceased to bleed, and the excitement had 
 somewhat abated, she inquired : 
 
 " Girls, how did this happen ? " 
 
 As a well-known mob of old, " Some cried one 
 thing, and some another," and Miss Grey was 
 forced to command silence. 
 
 At the first cry : " Carrie wasn't doing a thing." 
 " She sprang upon her for nothing at all," etc., etc., 
 the old fire began to burn in the orphan's bosom ; 
 and lifting her eyes, full of defiance and indigna 
 tion, she said vehemently : 
 
 " It isn't true ; not a word of it. She hurt me 
 more than I hurt her, and I hate her, I do." 
 
 "Hush," said her teacher, resolutely; "hush! 
 not another word, unless I speak to you." And 
 Yensie closed her mouth and marched to her seat.
 
 40 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Miss Grey looked after her hesitatingly, for a 
 moment, then she said : 
 
 " Perhaps you had better all be seated. We 
 must come at the truth quickly, before our other 
 scholars get here, so that this sad affair may spread 
 no further." 
 
 As soon as all were seated, and order restored, 
 Miss Grey said, addressing one of the older schol 
 ars: 
 
 Emma Lewis, will you tell me all you know of 
 this occurrence ? " 
 
 " I know very little, Miss Grey," was the quick 
 response. " I heard Carrie make a remark, I did 
 not catch her words ; some laughed, some cried 
 ' shame ! ' and then this girl sprang like a tigress 
 out from the bushes behind her, and threw her to 
 the earth." 
 
 " Carrie, suppose I listen to you next. What 
 did you say to vex Yensie ? " asked the puzzled 
 teacher. 
 
 " I'm sure I only spoke the truth. I said her 
 dress looked strange, as if she had come out of 
 the ark, or something like that. I never touched 
 her, I'm sure," said Miss Carrie, telling a small 
 part of the truth. 
 
 " Not very charitable or pleasant remarks, 
 Carrie," said the teacher, severely. " There are 
 more waj-s of touching most people than you, per 
 haps, imagine. Yensie, let me hear from you." 
 But Yensie uttered never a word.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 41 
 
 " Miss Walton, I wish you to tell me why you 
 struck your school-mate," insisted the teacher ; but 
 the child remained as mute as if struck dumb. 
 
 Miss Grey's mild face grew very sad. 
 
 " Time is flying, Yensie ; you must speak at 
 once if at all." 
 
 Yet the girl made no movement to obey. 
 
 "Very well, we will hear from others." And 
 Miss Grey went on with her examination. A very 
 one-sided affair it proved to be ; for most of the 
 girls went over to the side of the wounded party, 
 and the teacher's face grew very grave; while 
 Yensie's but too plainly betrayed the indignation 
 surging within. 
 
 Poor, meek little Jennie, glancing up to that 
 face, hid her own. Just then, Miss Grey called 
 upon her. 
 
 " Jennie Mason, through whose fault should you 
 say- this trouble arose ? " 
 
 Truthful little Jennie lifted her tearful eyes, 
 first, to the defiant face beside her, then to the be 
 seeching look of Carrie Hastings. She did not 
 love this fierce little creature, but she pitied her, 
 and she must tell the truth. 
 
 It was a guileless stor}^ neither shielding her 
 friend, nor^et her seat-mate ; and absolutely silent 
 as to her own effort at peace. When she ended, 
 her teacher said simply : " Thank you, Jennie." 
 But she felt she had reached the truth. 
 
 " Girls," she said, sadly, " don't talk of this, out-
 
 42 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 side of school or among yourselves. Don't let 
 anything which has occurred to-day prejudice you 
 either for or against anybody. I believe, Carrie, 
 3 T ou have been very unlady-like and unkind ; and 
 you Yensie, have shown a spirit very unbecoming 
 towards both your school-mate and your teacher. 
 I wish you both to remain after school. Now we 
 will attend to our usual duties. Maggie Lawson, 
 will you please ring the bell ? " 
 
 The afternoon passed much as usual, only 
 Yensie refused to hear any summons to lessons. 
 Her teacher saw she intended to be disobedient, so 
 she said nothing, but inwardly wondered how she 
 should deal with this refractory pupil, asking 
 guidance of One who never refused her requests, 
 and whose wisdom she never doubted. 
 
 As to the child, the afternoon passed very slowly 
 and unhappily with her ; and she was both glad 
 and sorry when the hour of dismissal arrived, and 
 she was left alone with Carrie Hastings and her 
 teacher. 
 
 Carrie was summoned to the desk, and Miss 
 Grey held a long and earnest conversation with 
 her ; not a word of which reached the other cul 
 prit's ear, though she caught the few last words of 
 the girl, spoken tearfully : 
 
 " O, Miss Grey, pray forgive me, and I will 
 promise not to offend you again." 
 
 She saw her go away with her teacher's kiss 
 upon her brow, and then heard her own summons 
 to the desk.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 43 
 
 The little girl did not obey this summons. She 
 felt as if she could not. She had resisted so long, 
 that now it seemed to be utterly impossible to 
 move herself, and she met her teacher's eye with 
 out a muscle of her face changing. 
 
 Miss Grey dropped her head to the desk and 
 prayed for direction, in this hour so full of peril ; 
 and Yensie, watching, wondered if she wept or 
 had fainted, and felt herself an awful wretch, yet 
 never moved an inch. 
 
 As to what the lady was really doing the child 
 had no idea ; and when she lifted a face calm and 
 peaceful, and full of holy confidence, and leaving 
 her desk, seated herself beside the little culprit, 
 she was trembling inwardly. 
 
 " Well, Yensie, do you think you will like to 
 come to school ? " was the lady's first question, as 
 if the afternoon's mishaps were blotted from her 
 memory. 
 
 " Yes no ; " answered the child, fiercely, the 
 first words she had spoken since the noon recess. 
 
 " Well, which answer am I to believe ? " in 
 quired Miss Grey, smiling. 
 
 " Both." Eyes still fixed upon her desk. 
 
 " I think I understand you, my child," Miss 
 Grey said, kindly. " You are so eager to learn that 
 school is pleasant to you, and you would like to 
 attend always ; yet you are so tried by the unkind 
 remarks of your mates, that you feel you can 
 never enter these walls again. Am I not right ? "
 
 44 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Yensie had raised her eyes quickly to her teach- 
 er's face during these remarks, now they sought 
 her desk again as she answered : 
 
 " Yes," and added her eyes once more seeking 
 the face of her friend " but that isn't the only 
 reason I wish to come. I like you, and I hate 
 her," waving her hand energetically towards the 
 farm-house. "Yes, I hate her," repeating the 
 gesture " worse than I do Carrie Hastings ! " 
 And the flashing eyes bore ample testimony to the 
 truth of her assertion. 
 
 " Her ? " questioned Miss Grey, demurely. 
 " Perhaps you mean your aunt, or one of your 
 little cousins ; possibly, the brindled cow, or } r our 
 uncle's old mare, Jeanette, or maybe the old hog 
 in the barn cellar." 
 
 Yensie's face was crimson with shame. 
 
 " O, Miss Grey," she cried, " you know I did not 
 mean the cow, or horse, or pig." 
 
 " I could not be expected to know from your 
 language, my child, but only from the fact that 
 few people expend their hatred upon inoffensive 
 animals. My little scholar must have a care not 
 to bring her father's teachings into disrepute. But, 
 Yensie, it is a terrible sin to hate. Why should 
 you hate your school-mate for a few senseless re 
 marks, that could not have harmed you possibly, 
 had you not allowed them to. Do you think you 
 have more occasion for hating Carrie than she has 
 for hating you ? "
 
 YENSEE WALTON. 45 
 
 ^ much more ; I would not talk as she did, 
 I am above it." 
 
 "She would not strike as you did; she is above 
 that." 
 
 " I'd rather she had struck me," cried the child, 
 excitedly, " than to have done as she did, and then 
 lie to you about it." 
 
 " Softly, softly, my dear ! Are you quite sure she 
 did not tell me the truth ? " said the good lady. 
 
 "Yes," replied the child, decidedly. "I am sure 
 she did not tell you the whole truth ; and anything 
 less than that is falsehood, when kept back on 
 purpose to deceive." 
 
 Miss Grey was forced to admit this truth. 
 
 " Why did not you then tell me the story your 
 self, when I requested you to do so ? " she asked, 
 gently. 
 
 *'I thought you would not believe me if I did." 
 
 " What right had you to such a thought ? " 
 
 " No right," very softly. 
 
 " Then you see you have wronged me, my dear 
 child," said the lady. " Are you ready to tell me 
 the story now ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Do you think I ought to be willing to listen to 
 you?" 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 " Then you feel you have done wrong, dear, in 
 this whole matter ? " 
 
 " Yes," short and quick, as if fearful it would 
 not be uttered at all, if delayed.
 
 46 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " Then you are sorry my child for your beha 
 vior? " in the same sweet, pleading tone. 
 
 "I am sorry I grieved you ; but I am not a bit 
 sorry for the rest, not a bit. I know I should do 
 the same thing right over again, if she talked the 
 same way ; I know I should," said the child stoutly. 
 
 " And thus bid defiance to all the teachings of 
 your good father, and worse still, displease your 
 Heavenly Father, Yensie," said her teacher, sor 
 rowfully. 
 
 "Do you hate me, Miss Grey?" 
 
 " No, dear ; on the contrary, I love you." 
 
 " Why do you love me ? " wistfully. 
 
 " Because I pity you, dear child," said the lady, 
 tenderly smoothing the brown locks. She felt the 
 little, disdainful, upward toss of the head, as if 
 her pity galled the proud young spirit, and added : 
 " You are so lonely and unhappy, and out of tune. 
 If I pity j^ou so much, with what compassion must 
 the dear Saviour behold you now." 
 
 Tears rushed to the great eyes, at this too faith 
 ful portraiture of her condition, yet the haughty 
 spirit blazed beneath them, as she cried passion 
 ately : 
 
 " I do not ask for pity, I do not want pity, I 
 want love." 
 
 " There is no true love without pity," said the 
 lady, simply. 
 
 "My father loved me, but he never pitied me." 
 
 " Because he never saw you poor, or sick, or
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 47 
 
 friendless, or sinful. Had he seen you suffer, he 
 must have pitied you, or ceased to love you," an 
 swered the teacher, calmly. 
 
 "I suppose he would. I never thought of that. 
 But God does not love me as my father did." 
 
 " You know not what you say, dear child," said 
 Miss Grey, gently. " Your father could have died 
 for you, no doubt; but think you he loved any one 
 well enough to allow you, his child, to die in their 
 stead. God had only one begotten Son, and we 
 may not be able to picture how he loved him, yet, 
 loving sinful you and me as only a pure, holy God 
 can love, he sent his only one to die for you and 
 me, to save you and me. O little girl, can there 
 be greater love than this ? " 
 
 And, silenced, Yensie sat for a few moments; 
 then Miss Grey repeated softly ; 
 
 " ,' Greater love hath no man than this : that a 
 man lay down his life for his friends.' ' But God 
 commendeth his love toward us ; in that, while we 
 were yet sinners, Christ died for us.' ' 
 
 Rising slowly, the child took her sun-bonnet 
 from the seat beside her, and placing it on her 
 head, tied it under her chin. Her teacher re 
 garded her a moment with loving, tender eyes, 
 then lifting the face, pressed a kiss on the brow, 
 asking gently : 
 
 " Shall I expect you to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Yensie, quickly, " the 
 books would be idle, you know," with a comical
 
 48 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 smile at thought of Mrs. Walton's words, " and 
 besides nobody loves me there, and you do." 
 
 " Nobod}^, dear ? " her hand laid gently on the 
 pink sun-bonnet ; " what about your uncle ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, lie. does." 
 
 " And the little cousins ? " still inquiringly. 
 
 " Maude does ; " quickly " but Aunt Sarah 
 hates the very sight of me, she says so." 
 
 " What have you ever done to deserve her 
 love ? " The kind eyes bent so earnestly on the 
 little up-turned face. 
 
 "Nothing. 1 " Head dropping sadly, then lifted 
 instantly. " But 1 have never done anything to 
 deserve your love, yet you love me ; you said so," 
 triumphantly. 
 
 This was unanswerable, and Miss Grey smiled 
 at the child's shrewdness. 
 
 " If I appear in any respect better than others," 
 she said, " it is through the teachings of Him who, 
 finding me lost in sin and self, yet loved me in my 
 degradation, and took me to His blessed bosom. 
 Dear child, through Him you may yet become 
 your aunt's greatest comfort, whose coming to her 
 shall be her theme of endless thanksgiving. To 
 this end let us pray, and remember, it is not only 
 because I pity, that I love you, but that, judging 
 from 3'our own. report, I believe you are the child 
 of a dear brother. I feel you are a blessed charge, 
 sent me by one unable to remain and finish the 
 work he loved ; who calls on me to do that which
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 49 
 
 he was obliged so reluctantly to leave undone. 
 For his sake you will try to love rne, Yensie. 
 Come to me freely, dear, and let us together study 
 to become more like Him, who both loved us and 
 laid down his life for our sakes." 
 
 The child looked up one moment into her teach 
 er's face with streaming eyes. The next, her 
 clinging arms were about her neck, and pressing a 
 burning kiss on her pale cheek, she bounded 
 through the door. As she went down the path, 
 great sobs rent her bosom, as if Miss Grey's words 
 had broken up, rather than melted, the ice so 
 long congealing there ; and as if the floating mass 
 obstructed her breath, endangering her life. 
 
 Once out of sight of the school-house, she flung 
 herself down under a tree and sobbed piteously, 
 ever and anon saying to herself: "She loves 
 me, she said so." By and by, her tears 
 flowed more freely, her sobs and sighs grew fainter, 
 her face gradually clearing and brightening, as if 
 behind those blessed words shone the sun which 
 was to convert her tears into a bow of promise. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the school-room, Alice Grey knelt 
 praying for grace to lead this little one into the 
 Saviour's fold. 
 
 O Yensie, little Yensie ! No longer poor, no 
 longer desolate ! A pure, true, human heart is 
 throbbing now for you. A yearning, tender 
 heart, as warm and loving as the one death stilled, 
 before thy own was conscious of its beatings.
 
 50 
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 And woman's lips redeemed woman's lips 
 whose breathings wake far sweeter melody in 
 heaven than angels' songs, are whispering peti 
 tions for thy welfare. Have courage. Though 
 He tarry, he does not forget ; and a father's pray 
 ers will yet be answered through a consecrated 
 human instrument.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " For the friendship of a child is the brightest gem set upon the 
 
 circle of society; 
 A jewel worth a world of pain, a jewel seldom seen." 
 
 followed day, weeks grew to months ; 
 
 and months in passing, made the years. 
 
 The longed-for dress had been finished and 
 worn out years ago ; the gay ribbon, carried in her 
 pocket every da}'- until beyond the range of the 
 red farm-house, had done service and been thrown 
 aside ; and still Yeiisie attended the village school, 
 and Miss Grey was still her teacher. 
 
 Great changes had visited the school-room since 
 first our little friend made her appearance there, 
 and yet perhaps the greatest change had been 
 wrought in herself. Many of the boys and girls 
 who studied there, in that far-off day, had left its 
 walls, and others filled their places among them 
 Mildred and Fred. 
 51
 
 52 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 When Carrie Hastings left the village for a 
 boarding-school, Mr. Walton offered Yensie the 
 same privilege ; but she had declined it. 
 
 " I will stay with Miss Grey while she has any 
 thing to teach me," she said, and having her own 
 way she had not lost thereby. 
 
 God bless the faithful teacher ! How her words 
 follow us through life. How we look back with 
 dimming eyes and thrilling hearts at remembrance 
 of her sweet counsels. 
 
 Amid the many noble women, devoted edu 
 cators of the young, Alice Grey was still unusual. 
 With rare natural tact, and a heart young, in spite 
 of the burdens and sorrows life had brought her, 
 she was just the one to win the devotion of a 
 child of Yensie Walton's ardent temperament. 
 
 Very unlike indeed, they were. Yensie felt her 
 teacher possessed every quality which she lacked, 
 and for which she yearned. Together they made 
 a perfect whole. Separated from her friend, the 
 maiden felt herself continually wanting complete 
 ness. With Miss Grey she never felt just as she 
 did with others ; the yearning restlessness that 
 made her life unbearable at times, never troubled 
 her in this beloved presence ; and no matter what 
 the turmoil of her spirit she felt it soothed beneath 
 the magic of her teacher's touch. 
 
 If ever woman was worth} r of such love as this 
 girl bestowed, surely this woman was. Delicate 
 and frail in bodj-, her spirit seemed to have grown
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 53 
 
 more robust, as if in compensation. She had a 
 face whose delicate pencilings were full of perfect 
 harmony ; whose every line seemed the tender 
 tracery of angel touches. Pure, sweet, earnest 
 with a mouth always ready to smile ; tender, yet 
 firm. Eyes that you never forgot; neither black, 
 nor blue, nor gray quiet, restful eyes so near 
 the fountain that ran tears of sympathy ; so near 
 the sun that dried them in new hopefulness. Over 
 all that face there rested a nameless grace and 
 beauty, which one felt were born of pain and suf 
 fering pain sanctified ; suffering which had 
 reached its " afterwards," which " yieldeth the 
 peaceable fruits of righteousness." 
 
 Yensie never brought a fern or lily-of-the-valley 
 home to beautify her room without a thought of 
 their resemblance to her teacher; never plucked 
 the white violet or trailing arbutus without being 
 reminded of the fragrance of her blessed life ; and 
 years after, when Alice Grey was not for God 
 had taken her this pupil never saw these flow 
 ers without tears. Tears of joy that she had been 
 privileged to know and. love her ; tears of sorrow 
 that earth no longer held a spot made sacred by 
 her presence. 
 
 Miss Grey's love for Yensie was not less sincere, 
 but it was very different. She held all earthly 
 things with a loose grasp, and had not dared risk 
 her all in any earthly bark, as had her little charge. 
 Thanking God for every joy of life, and loving it
 
 54 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 better as from His hand, she learned above all else 
 to praise him for this child. 
 
 Miss Grey had often seen scholars droop beneath 
 hard study ; but a new experience awaited her. 
 And she looked on with astonishment as tins bril 
 liant flower unfolded its petals, day by day ; as 
 the little shy, pale-faced girl developed into a beau 
 tiful, rounded, rosy-faced maiden, in the midst of 
 incessant mental exertion. She little knew that 
 her tender love was the oil feeding the unseen 
 springs of life giving them strength and elasticity. 
 No lesson was too difficult to master, no toil too 
 great to undertake ; for aside from the exceeding 
 great reward knowledge brought Yensie in itself, 
 were the smiles of her teacher, and she would do 
 anything to win them. 
 
 Meanwhile Mildred had grown to a bright, smart 
 girl. Equally quick to learn, she lacked the re- 
 tentiveness and originality of her cousin, and felt 
 when she reached fourteen, that she had quite 
 enough learning and pleaded to leave school. At 
 first her mother opposed her in this, but finally 
 yielded, as she was wont, to her daughter's en 
 treaties, consoling herself with the thought that 
 Mildred would not need to teach for a living, and 
 therefore required less schooling than Yensie. 
 
 Milly was both smart and pretty. Others than 
 her mother, perhaps, had thought her superior in 
 looks to her cousin. With a pink and white com 
 plexion, bluest of blue eyes, soft, fair hair, and
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 55 
 
 pouting, saucy mouth, well-formed and sprightly, 
 she was much more a picture than her soberer-hued 
 relative. 
 
 But Miss Grey saw differently. She could al 
 ready discern in her beloved pupil the prophecy of 
 an uncommon womanhood, both mentally and 
 physically. Maturing more slowly than her 
 cousin, Yensie had all the elements of unusual 
 beauty; and the fond teacher feared while she ad 
 mired. The slender, graceful figure, the brilliant 
 eyes, the clear, bright complexion, the poise of the 
 shapely head, that carried its wealth of chestnut 
 curls as queen might wear a coronet ; all spoke to 
 Alice Grey of coming power and coming danger. 
 
 Fred was now a boy of ten years, rough and 
 roguish ; but Maude sweet, wee, Maude who 
 shall describe her ? Seven years old now, she was 
 scarcely larger than most children of four ; and 
 retained the lovely spirit of her babyhood. The 
 years had only brought her added whiteness. 
 Like a bee she extracted honey from everything 
 about her, and passed by the poison unconsciously. 
 Hers was a charmed life ; and while, instinctively, 
 all sought to shield her from pain or harm, unwit 
 tingly her little hands led all whither she would. 
 
 Long years ago, Yensie had given her the name 
 of Violet, because the dark, purple-blue eyes re 
 minded one of those spring beauties; and grad 
 ually all others adopted the endearing title. 
 
 Yensie's comforter and room-mate for years, she
 
 56 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 had been, and it was wonderful what sweet coun 
 sels they held together ; and how much instruc 
 tion those baby lips imparted to the lonely orphan. 
 Sometimes listening to her earnest, old-fashioned 
 talk, the girl trembled lest Violet knew already too 
 much of heaven to long share with her this life on 
 earth. 
 
 "Aunt Sarah," said Yensie, one afternoon, an 
 swering some remark of Mrs. Walton's, " Aunt 
 Sarah, we are just alike, with a difference," smil 
 ing. " I love work as well as you do, but I do 
 not despise rest or recreation ; there we split. I 
 have worked as fast and as hard as any one ought 
 to, this whole day, doing everything you required, 
 and more, now haven't I ? And if I have been 
 smart enough to get done an hour before you ex 
 pected I would, why, I have earned that hour, and 
 have a right to spend it as I please. Don't you 
 agree with me ? If, as you say, you were not like 
 other girls, and did not care to go out much, and 
 yet it was no sin for you to differ, how can it be a 
 crime in me to differ from you ? I do love to go 
 out ; I do love Alice Grey, and find it hard to live 
 without her this vacation. I am going." And the 
 bright face, flushed from hard work, was lifted to 
 Mrs. Walton's with a look half-sauc} r , half-mirthful. 
 
 " Get off with you," said her aunt, with a grim 
 smile; for, be it known, a much kindlier feeling 
 existed between these two than in former days 
 thanks to Miss Grey.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 57 
 
 Mrs. Walton was very efficient, and as neat and 
 particular in her habits as possible. And under 
 her rugged teachings, Yensie careless, heedless 
 child as she had been grew as neat, and nearly 
 as particular as herself. The girl had been very 
 slow to give her relative the credit due for these 
 changes; but Miss Grey had helped her to a more 
 just estimate of her aunt, and thus increased the 
 spirit of kindliness between them. 
 
 Then, too, Yensie had natural qualities that won 
 her aunt's involuntary admiration; and this doing 
 whatever she undertook with all her might, was 
 one. Whether she worked or studied, every energy 
 of body or mind was fully employed. But when 
 work was over, study done, she could lay them 
 aside entirely. With her work-dress she folded 
 up her cares, and never seemed to know labor 
 would be required of her again until its hour re 
 turned. 
 
 Perhaps this was what made her so agreeable a 
 companion, so delightful a listener. Saturday's 
 unfinished work never protruded itself between 
 her and Mr. Goodale's sermon ; and that good 
 man often wondered at the fixed, delighted atten 
 tion of his young auditor, puzzled that one so 
 eager to hear the gospel refused its offers. 
 
 In vain he sought to press it on her personally. 
 
 " Y r ou have taught me all this through your ser 
 mons, hundreds of times. If I perish I will exon 
 erate you from ail blame," she would say. So 
 lately he said little, but prayed much.
 
 58 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 But we left the young girl on her way from the 
 heated kitchen to her own room to prepare for her 
 walk. 
 
 She did not consume much time in preparation. 
 The dark calico was soon exchanged for a light 
 muslin ; and when her jaunty straw hat was placed 
 on her head, even the little cracked mirror, which 
 anything but adorned her chamber wall, could not 
 make the bright young face reflected there re 
 pulsive. 
 
 No bird on the wing ever exulted more in its 
 boundless freedom than Yensie Walton this summer 
 afternoon, as with hands full of flowers, plucked 
 from her garden patch, she took her way across the 
 fields. She had earned her time ; it was hers 
 rightfully, as was the fresh breeze and sunshine. 
 And she found herself breaking out into gay little 
 snatches of song. 
 
 " I will go by the mansion house," she said, 
 gayly. " Who knows, I may get a glimpse of 
 those fine ladies. Mildred heard a large number 
 arrived yesterday, one of them the Mrs. Robinson 
 to be." 
 
 Just then she heard a quick step behind her, 
 and in another moment a young man passed. He 
 fixed his dark eyes full upon her with a puzzled, 
 inquiring look, as he passed, raising his hat and 
 bowing politely. She flushed at his earnest glance. 
 It was Harry Campbell, the little boy of her 
 childhood's adventure.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 59 
 
 She recognized him at once. He had changed 
 but little in feature, though he had grown tall and 
 manly. He was very handsome, too. She saw all 
 this in the little moment he was in view, and 
 sighed unconsciously as the elegant figure disap 
 peared around an angle of the road. 
 
 She looked for him again as she passed the broad 
 lawn sloping down from the mansion house, and 
 not in vain. He stood surrounded by a group of 
 ladies, and she noticed, as she glanced towards him, 
 that he was regarding her with that perplexed, 
 curious, yet pleased look she had met before.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " He is my strength and righteousness, 
 My Jesus and my all." 
 
 FEW minutes after, and Yensie stood in 
 the presence of her teacher. 
 " I have wanted to fly to you all day, dear 
 Alice," said the girl, seating herself at the lady's 
 feet. " It did seem as if my work would never be 
 done." 
 
 " Self-denial is wholesome love, even when 
 learned in so disagreeable a place as Aunt Sarah's 
 kitchen," was the reply. 
 
 "Are you quite sure it is always wholesome, 
 Alice ? " queried the girl. 
 
 " Yes, darling, always," replied the lady, gently. 
 " The sorest denials of my life have yielded the 
 largest gains." 
 
 60
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 61 
 
 Yensie lifted her eyes quickly to the dear face. 
 " You have had a bitter experience somewhere ? " 
 she said, questioningly. 
 
 " Such bitterness as I trust you shall only know 
 by name. But," turning the subject " how 
 did you manage to get here at last ? " 
 
 Yeusie did not answer her. She was looking up 
 into that loved face with such a strange, half* 
 grieved, half-protective look, as if some unknown 
 and hurtful power threatened to molest her treasure 
 which she would guard with her life. Alice read 
 all this in those expressive eyes. 
 
 "I told you the bitter that was, held nothing 
 but sweetness now," she said. " Sometime, per 
 haps I will tell you more, but not to-day. I am 
 not strong enough ; nothing troubles me to-day, 
 darling, but my own selfishness." 
 
 The young girl kissed passionately the thin 
 hand lying so near her lips, as she answered : 
 
 " You selfish ! O, Miss Grey, how is that pos 
 sible ? I thought you could not be." 
 
 " I am but human, Yensie ; and find that weeds 
 grow, even where I planted flowers." 
 
 " What are you selfish in to-day ? " pleaded the 
 maiden, laying her fair head in her teacher's lap. 
 Miss Grey stooped and kissed the broad brow. 
 
 " I find it very hard to give you up, dear ; even 
 when I know it is for your good," she said tremu 
 lously. 
 
 " Give me up ! " What do you mean ? What
 
 62 YENBD3 WALTON. 
 
 can you mean ? " cried the girl springing up and 
 putting her arms about her teacher's neck. " If it 
 is selfish for you to wish to keep me, I'm glad you 
 are selfish," she added, passionately. 
 
 "Nevertheless, I have tried not to be selfish," 
 said the lady. " I have told your uncle that you 
 must go to some other school ; I can teach you no 
 longer." 
 
 Yensie Walton sat down without one word ; but 
 there were tears in her large eyes. 
 
 " You have not taught me all you know ? " she 
 said at length, slowly. 
 
 " All I can. I have already taxed my strength 
 too far, trying to keep abreast of you," said her 
 teacher. 
 
 " And I have allowed you to. O, Alice ! " said 
 the girl, sadly. 
 
 " You did not know, darling ; how could you ? " 
 
 " But you should have told me, Alice. I am so 
 
 sorry. I would not injure you for all the world." 
 
 For suddenly Yensie's eyes seemed opened to the 
 
 frailt}' of her friend. 
 
 " My dear child, this is my own fault, a part of 
 my selfishness. I felt I could not spare you. Now 
 I must. But I Lave made you sad, little girl, 
 when I did not mean to. I have talked with your 
 uncle. I think he will not require you to go away 
 to school before I leave Wynu. I have promised 
 to keep the school through next winter. I dare 
 not promise longer than that. Now you have my
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 63 
 
 reason for not returning home through the holi 
 days, as usual. When I go again it will be to re 
 main with mother while I live." 
 
 " O, Alice, are you so ill ? " 
 
 " Not more so than I have been for years, only I 
 am tired," was the reply. "Rest. will recruit me. 
 Mother is feeble, and needs me now. Cheer up, 
 my child, you shall spend your vacations with me, 
 and tell me all your progress." And thus talking, 
 Miss Grey won the smiles back to the face of her 
 charge. 
 
 " Yensie," said her teacher in the course of that 
 afternoon's conversation. " Yensie, I could leave 
 you without so much pain, so much fear, if I only 
 knew you had accepted the Saviour as your friend 
 and guide." 
 
 The maiden's eyes sought the floor, but she did 
 not answer. Here was one whose counsels she 
 could not set aside as she could others ; to whose 
 words her heart was wont to give assent. 
 
 "Usually kind and generous, my child," con 
 tinued her teacher, " I find you lacking here. The 
 One above all others who has a right to your love 
 .nd homage, seems utterly forgotten." 
 
 " Oh, not forgotten, Miss Grey ! " cried the girl. 
 " How could He be forgotten when you have lived 
 His life over again before me every day. I have 
 prayed, and thought I would love Him. But I am 
 ashamed to offer Him half a heart : and I cannot 
 love Him as I did my father as I do you."
 
 64 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " And yet He gave you your father and Miss 
 Grey," said the lady, quietly. 
 
 " Yes, so he did," said the young girl, thought 
 fully, as if this were a revelation. " But how can 
 I help being just what I am. I've tried over and 
 over again to be good, to do right, and, first thing 
 I know, I am doing .something hateful." 
 
 " ' By the works of the law shall no flesh be 
 justified,' " said Miss Grey. " If you have tried 
 being good long enough to convince you that it is 
 impossible for you to keep God's law, Yensie, 
 you have come to the place where you must be 
 saved by grace, or perish. You cannot make your 
 self any better ; I am glad you seem sure of that. 
 God does not ask you to do what you cannot do; 
 he does not ask you to make yourself an impossi 
 bility ; he only asks you to come to Jesus just as 
 you are." 
 
 " Miss Grey ! " cried Yensie, in surprise. " I 
 am a great sinner, and God is holy ; how can I, 
 how dare I, approach him just as I am ? " 
 
 " Because you cannot make j-ourself any differ 
 ent, my child ; and he would not be just to require 
 of 3 T ou what you cannot perform," answered the 
 lady. 
 
 The girl was silent, she had never had the truth 
 presented in just this light before. Miss Grey 
 was silent, too, her prayers going up to the throne, 
 for she felt the Holy Spirit was brooding over the 
 troubled waters of that soul. At length, the 
 maiden lifted her eyes from the floor :
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 65 
 
 " I have always," she said, carrying out in words 
 what had been forming in her thoughts, "I have 
 always respected religion in others ; always revered 
 God's people ; always admired the Saviour's walk 
 and work. My heart has been moved to its centre 
 with deepest surprise and veneration at the won 
 derful condescension of Jesus." 
 
 Miss Grey's voice interrupted her: 
 
 " Yensie, do you remember that long-ago cry of 
 yours : ' I do not want pity ; I want love ? ' Your 
 Saviour comes to you with a very like declaration. 
 He does not ask your admiration, but your love. 
 He commands your fear, your admiration, your 
 reverence ; you can no more withhold them than 
 the clouds their rain-drops, when He speaks. He 
 who is worshipped by angels, whose ears are filled 
 with the hosannas of spotless myriads, asks not 
 your admiration. We yield that instinctively, and 
 cannot do otherwise. But your love he asks, your 
 love he will have. O my darling, the Saviour 
 that died for you, is yet a suppliant unadmitted at 
 the door of your heart. God has given you every 
 earthly gift without the asking, without your will. 
 One gift alone has he withheld. This he will give 
 only on condition that you feel your need of and 
 ask for it. You have taken all his free gifts with 
 out a word of thanks, and will you refuse his 
 greatest gift rather than bow that proud spirit?" 
 
 " Proud ! " continued the lady. " A mortal 
 proud ! O God forgive us. Our position, Yensie
 
 66 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 both yours and mine is down low, down low 
 before his feet. O darling, stoop and live." 
 
 Yensie was silent, though deeply moved ; her 
 slight form was trembling, as her teacher went on : 
 
 " My child," she said, gently, " if I had recom 
 mended to you any earthly friend,' you would go 
 to the ends of the earth to serve him for my sake ; 
 and so you would care for any old-time friend of 
 your father. We have failed to recommend to 
 you any other, as we have this Friend of friends ; 
 yet } - ou have not listened to his pleadings. Strange 
 that your ' father's God ' should be to you an ' Un 
 known God.' He who has supported, loved, and 
 tenderly cared for your dearest ; carrying some of 
 them over in his mighty bosom to the other shore 
 beyond the heart-break, waits to-day for your 
 thanks, your love. Shall he wait in vain ? " 
 
 Yensie could bear no more. Springing to her 
 feet, quivering in every nerve, she gazed into her 
 teacher's face. 
 
 " I am so vile," she gasped. 
 
 And Miss Grey repeated, in a low, sweet voice : 
 
 " Jnst as I am, without one plea, 
 But that Thy hlood was shed for me, 
 And that Thou hidst me come to Thee, 
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come I 
 
 Just as I am, and waiting not 
 To rid my soul of one dark blot, 
 To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot, 
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come 1 "
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 67 
 
 But before the last line was repeated Yensie was 
 gone. Springing through the door; hat in hand, 
 down over the stair, out into the street, past the 
 mansion house past everything, until alone be 
 neath God's trees. Then, with a great sob, fling 
 ing herself on the green sod, she pleaded for 
 mercy. 
 
 What passed in that next half-hour is known 
 only to God and her own soul. But when she 
 rose there was a glory in her bosom unknown 
 before ; and raising her eyes to the blue skies 
 smiling upon her, she repeated tearfully : 
 
 " Just as I am, Thy love unknown 
 Has broken every barrier down ; 
 Now fro be Thine, yea. Thine alone, 
 O Lamb of God, I come, I come !" 
 
 The walk back to Miss Grey's was quieter ; and 
 opening the front door, she mounted the stairs 
 softly, and peeped into Alice's room. The dear 
 teacher, who had spent the interval in prayer, 
 rising from her knees with God's own " Yes " in 
 her soul, felt not a ripple of surprise when met 
 by that glowing face. She only pressed the dear 
 girl to her bosom, and said : 
 
 " I am so glad. Let us praise God." 
 And seldom has more heartfelt melody arisen 
 than that which ascended from that chamber as 
 Alice and Yensie united their voices in that 
 thanksgiving psalm of the centuries : 
 
 " Praise God from whom all blessings flow."
 
 68 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Only one short afternoon ! But in its fleeting 
 hours decision had been made for eternity. Alice 
 Gi-ey had added with her trembling hand, another 
 jewel to the Master's crown. 
 
 Yensie walked home as if she were winged. A 
 thrill of rapture in her soul new and delightful. 
 All the world seemed full of God, and she was not 
 afraid at his presence. And sweet Alice Grey 
 white-souled, brave-hearted Alice Grey kneeling 
 in her chamber, thanked God for her child's con 
 version as she had not for her own. 
 
 A crowned saint, even on earth ; hers was a 
 calm, sweet walk with God such a life as every 
 Christian should covet. Always trustful, always 
 restful the two are inseparable the deep sound 
 ings of joy and peace were hers. 
 
 " Oh, the rapturous height ! " sang Yensie, home 
 ward bound. 
 
 " Depths of mercy ! " This was the cry of this 
 sanctified soul. 
 
 Later that afternoon, as the shadows gathered, a 
 conversation was going on in the attic at the red 
 farm-house. 
 
 "Ennie," said little Maude white-robed little 
 Maude who, prayers ended, sat in Yensie's lap 
 listening to her evening song. "Ennie, what 
 makes you sing so to-night?" With marked em 
 phasis on the little adverb. 
 
 " So, how darling ? Does my singing sound dif 
 ferent, to-night ? " inquired her cousin.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 69 
 
 "Yes, there's somefin' different, I fink it's the 
 happy in it," said the little innocent. 
 
 " Why, that's because my heart is so glad," re 
 plied Yensie. " I love Jesus to-night, Violet." 
 
 "And didn't you always love Him ? " asked the 
 prattler in unfeigned astonishment. 
 
 " No, darling, I've been very wicked ; not like 
 you. You seem to have been born good ; but I I 
 fear sometimes I almost hated God because he took 
 my father and mother. But I don't now," to re 
 lieve the horror in the blue eyes. 
 
 " It's drefful wicked to hate, isn't it, Ennie ? " 
 
 " Yes, darling, I don't hate to-night ; I love ev 
 erybody." 
 
 " My mother ? " in an inquiring tone. 
 
 " Yes, your mother, Maude," said the girl, kiss 
 ing the sweet face fondly. " And, O little Violet, 
 if you only could know how happy I am." 
 
 "Is you a Christian, Ennie ?" 
 
 " I think so, Maude. I must be, if that means 
 to have Christ in you. It does seem as if Jesus 
 was right here," placing her hand on her heart. 
 He makes me so happy I am almost afraid to go to 
 sleep, for fear I may lose my joy." 
 
 The little one looked up earnestly : 
 
 " We can't lose what God gives us, can we, 
 Ennie ? 'Cause he'd know just where it was lost 
 and tell us where to find it again." 
 
 " True, you darling ! " 
 
 "Ennie, does little children ever be Christians?'' 
 asked the child now.
 
 70 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " Oh yes, darling ; don't you remember what 
 Jesus said : ' Suffer the little children to come unto 
 me, and forbid them not?' " answered Yensie. 
 
 " Perhaps that means heaven," said the little 
 one, doubtingly. 
 
 " He said it when on earth," was the answer. 
 " And no one can go to Him there, who has not 
 first been to him here." 
 
 " Then I guess I'll ask him now," slipping off 
 from Yensie's knee. 
 
 " Ask him what, puss ? " 
 
 " To come into my heart like he did into yours, 
 Ennie," and the violet eyes closed, the sAveet 
 mouth moved, as she knelt silently beside her 
 cousin. It was her habit always, after "Now I 
 lay me," to pray her " inside prayer," as she called 
 it ; probably because she never revealed its request 
 to other than God. 
 
 " Ennie, He always gives me what I ask for," 
 she said, climbing to her old place on the maiden's 
 knee. " Do you s'pose " that far-away, un 
 earthly light in her eyes, so often there of late 
 " do you s'pose it's as nice to have a little of the 
 glory here," putting her hand to her breast, " as it 
 will be to be in the big glory up there," pointing 
 reverently to the sky. 
 
 " No dear, I think not," replied Yensie, thought 
 fully, speaking more to herself than to the child. 
 " It can't be, for Paul says , ' Christ in you the 
 hope of glory,' as if it really was not the glory 
 itself."
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 71 
 
 " Oh, I'd like to be there ! I fink I'd ask Him 
 to take me, Ennie," said the little girl ; the mar 
 vellous light in her eyes growing deeper. 
 
 " Violet, darling, are you sick ? " cried Yensie, 
 a terrible fear creeping over her. 
 
 " No, I's tired, Ennie," answered the child, sigh- 
 ing; and the young girl could but think of that 
 other one who had used the same word that day. 
 
 A few hours since, and she would have risen in 
 arms against the power which threatened to be 
 reave her ; now she whispered : " God is good, he 
 will spare them to me." 
 
 Yes, God is good. She did not, could not, real 
 ize then, as she did in after years, that it is because 
 he is good, because he loves us, that he takes so 
 many of our dearest to his bosom. 
 
 With the little one folded in her arms, she sang 
 until the white eyelids drooped over the wondrous 
 eyes, and long after watched, as her darling slum 
 bered ; but her warblings were hushed for that 
 night. The bird had not lost its song, but her 
 heart was keyed to more subdued strains.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "And quick the glad tears start for what am I ? 
 
 That all this sweetness should so thrill and bless ? 
 A hat brooding love from out the low, near sky, 
 Should stoop to comfort me with such tenderness ?" 
 
 ANNA BOYNTON AVERILL. 
 
 EVER rose brighter morning sun on fairer 
 summer day, than this, Yensie's "first 
 day " as she called it. The evening clouds 
 which had so suddenly arisen on her horizon were 
 dissipated by the morning sun, and seldom has 
 Sabbath echoed to a gladder song of praise. 
 
 Mrs. Walton marvelled as the girl flitted hither 
 and thither, doing up her morning's work, and at 
 last broke forth with : 
 72
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 73 
 
 " What has got inter you, Yensie ? I shouldn't 
 know you for the same girl." 
 
 Her niece smiled: "I expect God has got in, 
 Aunt Sarah. I have found the Saviour." 
 
 The astonishment on Mrs. Walton's face abated 
 not a whit at this answer, and her husband started 
 suddenly for the door. There he stood looking 
 over the fields as if suddenly interested in some 
 thing, though how he could see, with that strange 
 mistiness over his eyes, was a mystery. 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Walton seldom went to church 
 in haying time. Fred was excused this morning 
 on plea of a headache ; but long before the church- 
 bells rang, Yensie, all prepared, thrust her head in 
 at Milly's door : 
 
 " Mildred are you ready ? " she asked. 
 
 "Mercy no, not half. It isn't time yet, any 
 svay. What on earth are you thinking of to start 
 so early?" answered her cousin. 
 
 " I want to drop in at Mr. Goodale's for a few 
 moments," Yensie replied. 
 
 " And you're welcome, for all of me," was the 
 quick response. "I get enough preaching at 
 church without calling on purpose to get a little 
 thrown in. Go along ; I'll get there in time." 
 And waiting for no more, her cousin disappeared. 
 
 The whole earth was chanting praises this morn 
 ing 
 
 " Bird and bee and flowing fountain,"
 
 74 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 and the light-hearted girl soon stood before the 
 minister's unpretentious house. 
 
 A moment's hesitation the next, a mild-faced, 
 middle-aged lady with the meekest of meek blue 
 eyes, opened the door. This was Mr. Goodale's 
 sweet little wife ; and if ever woman deserved the 
 name of help-meet she did. Often her husband 
 wondered how he could live without her. 
 
 " Why, Yensie, is it you ? " said the little lady, 
 scarcely believing her own eyes. Then answering 
 the look of inquiry with which the young girl 
 swept the apartment into which she had been 
 ushered : 
 
 "Did you want to see Mr. Goodale, my dear? 
 This way," in answer to Yensie's affirmative. 
 " Right up these stairs, first door to the right." 
 And Yensie stood before her. pastor's study door. 
 This was her first visit to that Bethel where one 
 holy man of God held intercourse with heaven. 
 It was not to be her last. How often, in after 
 years, she sought that spot for help, for guidance, 
 for comfort and sympathy. Some one has truly 
 said that our Heavenly Father never removes one 
 blessing from us without giving us another in its 
 place. As Alice Grey's labor of love drew near 
 its close, pastor Goodale's began. 
 
 A half-timid little rap, answered by a cheery 
 " Come in," and the girl stood by the good man's 
 side. He did not stop the selection of hymns
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 75 
 
 with which he was occupied, did not look up ; but 
 said quietly : 
 
 " "Well, my dear ? " in a questioning tone. 
 
 " Mr. Goodale," began Yensie, timidly ; but the 
 book fell together on the table, her pastor was 
 upon his feet, a look of mingled surprise and pleas 
 ure on his face. 
 
 " Pardon me, Yensie, I thought it was my wife 
 who entered. Take a seat." And he peered into 
 the bright face as if there to read her errand. 
 
 " O, Mi'. Goodale," she cried impulsively, using 
 the same words which, falling from the lips of 
 young and old these eighteen centuries, have 
 cheered the hearts of countless weary servants of 
 God " O, Mr. Goodale, I have found Jesus ! " 
 And he who had prayed and wrestled for this soul 
 as Jacob for his blessing, mingled his tears of 
 gratitude with hers. 
 
 "Tell me all about it," he said, presently. 
 
 "It seems so much to experience, and yet so 
 little to tell," she answered. " I went to see Miss 
 Grey yesterday afternoon, and she talked with 
 me. I never could turn away from her, somehow, 
 and what she said seemed to break my heart. I 
 felt as if I should die, suffocate, if I did not get 
 help; and I ran off and left her. Out in the 
 woods, under the trees, I prayed ; and then such a 
 peace came. Nothing I can explain, but it seemed 
 somehow that I had been far off, straying away not 
 only from God, but from everything pure and
 
 76 YENSIE^ WALTON. 
 
 good ; and then I came back back into harmony 
 with all creation and its Creator. 
 
 The minister's hand was on her head. 
 
 *' God be praised ! " he said fervently, " and may 
 he make you a blessing to many souls." 
 
 " Oh, that is it, she said tearfully. " I want to 
 do something now for him." 
 
 " And he has plenty for you to do," answered 
 her pastor. " Keep your eyes open, dear child ; 
 work lies all around you, for ' the harvest is great 
 and the laborers are few.' " 
 
 A few minutes after, Mr. Goodale placed Yen- 
 sie's hand in that of his wife : 
 
 "A lamb of the fold, Eliza," was all he said. 
 But she understood, as perhaps, only a minister's 
 wife can, how much this meant, said of one for 
 whom so man)'- prayers had arisen. 
 
 " The first dropping of a mighty shower, I 
 trust," she answered, smiling into his face. 
 
 Yensie did not soon forget the words with which 
 she was dismissed at the door : 
 
 " You have brought me just the stimulus I 
 needed for this day's labor." 
 
 It was still early when Yensie reached the 
 church. As she walked up the aisle she could but 
 remember how often she had brought a weary, 
 restless, hungering heart there with her. She had 
 walked these aisles when life was a burden to her ; 
 when longings, for she knew not what, had made a 
 perfect torment within. Never before had she en-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 77 
 
 terecl those walls with a heart at peace with itself ; 
 never with this sense of restfulness. With a sigh 
 of satisfaction she ascended the staircase and took 
 her seat in the gallery just opposite the pulpit, 
 where the members of the choir sat. 
 
 She noted the worshippers as they came in : Old 
 Thomas Quilb, the village blacksmith, Miss Nancy 
 Ray, the garrulous spinster, who had more than 
 once warned her of her future condition out of 
 Christ, good Dr. Morse and his wife, Deacon and 
 Mrs. Wyly and their grown-up daughters, then a 
 little cluster of girls who were giggling at the 
 bright yellow roses in Miss Nancy's red silk 
 bonnet. They began to come faster now ; widow 
 Hastings and her two little girls, Squire Grey and 
 Alice her heart gave a throb of joy at sight of 
 this dear form. 
 
 " Look," said Milly, who had arrived and taken 
 a seat beside her cousin, "there's the folks from 
 the ' White House,' " in a loud whisper, " There's 
 Robinson himself, I declare. Brought them all to 
 show off the church he built, I suppose. I bet 
 that lady next to him, in the stiff silk is the one 
 he is going to marry. Don't I wish I stood in her 
 shoes." 
 
 Yensie's low, " Hush, you attract attention, 
 Milly," had no other effect but to cause her to 
 Jower her voice. 
 
 " If there isn't that handsome fellow ; isn't he 
 elegant? The one with the curly head, I mean.
 
 78 YENSIE WALTOS. 
 
 Who do yon suppose that big fellow is ? " desig 
 nating a tall, broad-shouldered young man, who 
 followed Harry Campbell into the pew. 
 
 " They say that little girl with the light hair is 
 Harry Campbell's sister. Isn't she lucky ? " 
 sighed Mildred, just as Mr. Goodale, rising to in 
 voke the Divine blessing, stopped all further com 
 ments. 
 
 Was the good preacher better this morning than 
 common ? Had Yensie's stimulus added to his 
 usual earnestness and warmth of manner? Had 
 his faith grown larger? Certainly more of his 
 hearers than the little girl in the choir were won 
 derfully blessed and edified. As for Yensie, she 
 sat as in a glorious dream, unconscious of every 
 thing but the service in which she participated, 
 the sermon to which she listened. More than once 
 the preacher's eyes were lifted to the gallery, gath 
 ering fresh inspiration from every glimpse of that 
 glowing, attentive face. 
 
 The choir of Wynn was not intended to super 
 sede congregational singing, but rather to lead it. 
 Few choirs, however, can boast a voice as sweet 
 and powerful as Yensie Walton's. It had unusual 
 power to-day, of which, perhaps, no one in the 
 congregation was unconscious save herself. Two 
 at least of her listeners guessed the cause. 
 
 During the singing the congregation turned and 
 faced the gallery. As the first clear tones rang 
 out, every eye in Mr. Robinson's pew was lifted
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 79 
 
 involuntarily to the choir. Harry Campbell and 
 his sister never removed their eyes for a moment, 
 from the singer's face, but the other young man, 
 Herbert Gardenell, let his eyes drop again, though 
 his grave face no less expressed his marked 
 pleasure. 
 
 Mildred's bright eyes saw all this ; knew whose 
 voice elicited such involuntary homage. She gave 
 her cousin a little nudge which was entirely lost, 
 however, as she did not know its import. 
 
 "Rather a pretty singer, Mr. Gardenell," re 
 marked simpering Miss Grant, as they pursued 
 their way home from church that morning. 
 
 " I don't know that I remarked the face," re 
 plied the young man, abstractedly ; " but her 
 voice was very superior." 
 
 " Now isn't that just like you, Gardenell ? " said 
 Harry Campbell, running his arm through Herbert's 
 (a few of them had preferred walking home). 
 
 " Miss Grant, I assure you this young man has 
 no idea whatever of female loveliness. Now I 
 really don't believe he could possibly tell the color 
 of your eyes if he was hung for his folly. He's 
 worse than a Hottentot. I declare, I looked at 
 that little girl right well, and found it such pleas 
 ant work, I felt very sorry each time I was forced 
 to sit down and turn my back to her," laughing. 
 
 " O, Mr. Harry," laughed Miss Grant. " You 
 have both mistaken my meaning. I did not refer
 
 80 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 to the face, but voice of the young girl, when I 
 called her a pretty singer. Are country girls ever 
 very pretty, think you ? " 
 
 " Ought to be," said Harry, dryly ; feeling called 
 upon to answer this question, as his friend re 
 mained silent. " Ought to be, since ladies in gen 
 eral seek the country to recruit decaying charms. 
 
 Then turning to Herbert : " Bless me, Gar- 
 denell, how that old chap did give it to us poor sin 
 ners ! I didn't know but you had given him a 
 private account of my condition, as he pecked 
 away at such a rate. It has made me positively 
 uneasy. I fear it will not be best for me to trust 
 myself there again. I suppose now, Gard, that's 
 what you call an out and out orthodox dish." 
 
 "It is truth well told, Harry," answered his 
 friend, smiling. " Which two things do not always 
 go together." 
 
 Meanwhile a conversation was going on between 
 Yensie Walton and her Sabbath-school superin 
 tendent. 
 
 " I wish you would take the class, Miss Walton/' 
 said the kindly gentleman. " I have been praying 
 for a teacher for those scholars this long while, 
 and have felt drawn towards you. They are little 
 ones, remember only babes." 
 
 " Yes sir, and that is just what I am myself, re 
 ligiously ; just learning the alphabet. Oh no, Mr. 
 True, you must find some one else, I cannot teach 
 them."
 
 YENSIB WALTON. 81 
 
 " Sometimes," still persisted the good man, " a 
 little one, just learning his letters, gets more help 
 from another, similarly situated than he can from 
 those years ahead of him, who deem his but a 
 small attainment." 
 
 "Possibly," Yensie replied, smiling, "but in 
 deed, I must decline," turning away decidedly, and 
 Mr. True went back to his desk. 
 
 He was a conscientious man, and rather than 
 pat an unconverted person over these little ones, 
 deprived of their teacher by a protracted illness, 
 had assumed the office of teacher himself ; which 
 pressed heavily upon him, colliding somewhat with 
 his other duties. He had hailed with delight the 
 announcement of Yensie's conversion, whispered 
 in his ear by his pastor, not only for her own sake, 
 but because he had long felt her adaptedness to 
 this work. 
 
 Now he turned back to his desk somewhat dis 
 heartened , and Mr. Goodale, who had seconded 
 him in LL-* attempt, saw by his face that he had 
 been r^fvi^d. He quietly stepped from his place 
 on tlie- platform, by the superintendent, and sought 
 the refractory young lady. 
 
 " Yensie what reason, have you given Mr. True 
 for refusing to take Miss Rogan's class ? " he asked, 
 eyeing her coolly. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Goodale, " she answered in surprise, 
 " my inability of course. I am but a learner my 
 self."
 
 82 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 . * 
 
 "And always will be, I trust, my child," he said, 
 kindly. " But I thought you told me you were 
 anxious to do something for your Saviour ? " 
 
 " I am, Mr. Goodale ; anything I can do this 
 I cannot." 
 
 " Have you tried ? " quietly. 
 
 " No sir, but then there is no need, I know so 
 little, myself," she answered, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Would you fear to relieve Miss Grey of her 
 school duties for a few weeks, if she were ill, and 
 so required ? " 
 
 " No sir." 
 
 " Why not, Yensie ? " 
 
 " Because I have been over all that any of her 
 scholars have, and would know where to go for 
 help if needed." 
 
 " Very good," replied her pastor. " And now 
 have you not been all over the road of these little 
 ones out of Christ, seeing you have reached salva 
 tion. And if you ever need help, have you not 
 One abundantly able and willing to give it ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir, I never thought of it in just this way 
 before. But" and she hesitated again "but 
 don't you think it is a little different ? You can't 
 think, Mr. Goodale, how ignorant I feel of heav 
 enly things. I need to be a learner myself." 
 
 The good pastor smiled. " My dear child," he 
 said, " I think I do know how ignorant you feel. 
 I think you will not get wholly rid of that feeling, 
 even when as old in the way as your pastor.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 83 
 
 There is always something ahead, otherwise we 
 should scarcely enjoy it as much. If you had 
 gleaned all the knowledge that books could give," 
 he understood her love of learning "I imagine 
 you would feel like Alexander, constrained to 
 weep for more to conquer. We shall always be 
 learners. A true teacher never gives up study; 
 ask Miss Grey. And, little girl, did you never find 
 that by trying to impart to others you had gained 
 yourself? " 
 
 Yensie thought of Maude as she answered: 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " It is a blessed thing to give, Yensie. It is the 
 only true way to get. It rather enriches than 
 impoverishes us. Look at God, at Christ, our 
 great Example, who gave His life, yet really only 
 added to it, since it thereby took in the length and 
 breadth of millions of saved souls. Never hoard 
 one hour's blessedness, dear child, ' That which the 
 fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain,' 
 and by a never-failing rule, those who bless others 
 are much more largely blessed themselves." 
 
 Yensie, who had been listening eagerly to every 
 word falling from those beloved lips, answered 
 timidly : 
 
 " I trust, Mr. Goodale, you will not think I am 
 unwilling that others should enjoy all I do, or to 
 help them there when I can." 
 
 " No, dear child," he said, laying his hand kindly 
 on hers. " 1 think no such thing ; but I do think
 
 84 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 you may have erroneous ideas of the position of 
 teacher and scholar, and also of true modesty. 
 That you are a learner at Miss Grey's school does 
 not unfit, but really prepares you, to teach Maude 
 and help Fred at home. How much more with 
 the Holy Spirit for } r our teacher, ought you to be 
 prepared to impart to those younger than yourself 
 in holy things. And remember, now and ever, 
 Yensie, that true humility believes Jesus knows 
 best, and when he says : this way ; walks there, 
 though it may seem to others, as well as to them 
 selves, exalted or debased more than their desert. 
 When he calls you to a certain path never fear to 
 tread it." 
 
 " But that is just the trouble, Mr. Goodale," she 
 answered. " If I were always sure of his call." 
 
 " ' The sheep hear His voice,' " replied her pas 
 tor. " Opportunity and ability constitute a call. 
 Here is the opportunity for labor. Who shall say 
 he has no ability, while Jesus still cries : ' Ask and 
 ye shall receive.' ' If ye shall ask anything in my 
 name, I will do it.' ' All power is given unto me 
 in heaven and in earth.' 'Lo, I am with you 
 alway, even unto the end.' ' If any man laok 
 wisdom, let him ask of God.' If we lack 'tis our 
 own fault, is it not, Yensie? My precious girl," 
 he added, turning to go, " Things present, or things 
 to come ; all are yours, and you are Christ's, and 
 Christ is God's." 
 
 The young girl bowed her head a moment in
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 85 
 
 pray " , then with a few words to her Sabbath- 
 school teacher, made her way to the desk. 
 
 " Mr. True, I will take the class," she said ; 
 thereby lifting a load from her superintendent's 
 breast.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "Oh! lull me, lull me, charming air! 
 
 My senses rock with wonder sweet: 
 Like snow on wool thy fallings are ; 
 Soft, like a spirit's, are thy feet, 
 Grief who need fear 
 That hath an ear ? 
 Down let him lie 
 And slumbering die, 
 And change his soul for harmony." 
 
 DUYDE:Y. 
 
 HE weather was unusually pleasant for 
 August. Farmer Walton was unusually 
 busy, and both the girls found work in 
 abundance ; yet, as young people will, they still 
 found leisure for their favorite employments. 
 
 One afternoon, soon after Yensie's memorable 
 visit to Alice Grey's, Milly, in her cool muslin suit 
 started for the village, and her cousin, with pre 
 cious Violet, started for the woods. 
 86
 
 YENSIP] WALTON. 87 
 
 Yensie ] id declared it too hot to travel so far 
 when urged by Mildred to accompany her ; but as 
 soon as that young lady was fairly out of sight, 
 clad in a neat calico, book in hand, she proceeded 
 with Maude to the wooded lot. This lot was 
 near enough to the house to keep it ever in view ; 
 yet so situated as to shelter her from the observation 
 of any one within the farm-house. 
 
 Down 'neath the shelter of the grand old trees 
 many of them only spared because of her earn 
 est entreaties her back leaning against the large 
 stump of a forest monarch laid low, yet showing 
 unmistakable signs of life in the fresh, slender, 
 green shoots bristling on it from every side, book 
 open on her lap, she sat dreaming. 
 
 Yensie had been reading. But somehow, the 
 very words she read set her off on one of those 
 strange, vague, fanciful reveries so natural to her. 
 And now she sat with scarcely conscious eyes, 
 watching Violet in her busy search for vines and 
 flowers, her mind far, far away. 
 
 " O, Ennie," cried the child, partially arousing 
 her, " isn't these buful ? I'm going to make you a 
 queen." And soon the dainty baby hands were 
 wreathing the dark locks with summer glories. 
 
 One by one the pins which confined the heavy 
 coils were removed by the nimble fingers, to make 
 way for "flower-pins," as she called them, and 
 then all finished, the wee fairy took her stand in 
 front to admire the work of her own hands.
 
 88 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " I've n.ade you just lovely. I wish I had a 
 looking-glass for you to see," she cried, clapping 
 her hands. " Now you're a queen, and I wish the 
 prince would come ; you know, the one that 
 came for Cinderella," said the prattler, perching 
 herself on the girl's knee and looking into her 
 face. 
 
 " I've found my Prince," said Yensie, softly, her 
 eyes full of satisfied love, "my Prince Immanuel." 
 
 "Oh, that makes me fink," said the little one 
 " and perhaps you'd like to hear it. I fought I'd 
 tell you sometime if you'd promise not to stop 
 me."" 
 
 " Stop you, darling, how ? " inquired Yensie. 
 
 " Didn't you tell me He'd say ' yes ' always, if 
 we asked in Jesus' name ? Don't ask Him, will 
 you, Ennie?" and the little girl patted the fair 
 cheek, coaxingly. 
 
 Little Violet, little Violet, you have not told me 
 yet what I am not to ask. How can I promise 
 until I know? "asked Yensie, effectually aroused 
 from her dreaming. 
 
 " Oh, I fordot ! Well, you see," began the dar 
 ling, nestling her golden head close to that loving 
 bosom, " you know I told you I fought I would 
 ask Him sometime to take me where He is, and I 
 did. I hope you won't try to stop Him, Ennie," 
 lifting sweet, inquiring eyes upward. 
 
 Yensie felt her heart give a great throb and 
 stop. Then her arms folded tightly about the
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 89 
 
 Blender form, as she asked in a voice striving for 
 calmness : 
 
 " Why does my Violet want to go ? " 
 
 " O, Ennie, I want to see Jesus ; that is the 
 most. Then the tired grows" hesitatingly, as if 
 fearing to wound " worse. I want to rest," she 
 added plaintively. " And O, Ennie, I'm most 
 sure he said, ' yes.' You wouldn't like to stop me 
 if I was going to him to rest, his arms will be so 
 strong, and his bosom so broad, I'll never be tired 
 any more." 
 
 The great, purple-blue eyes, filled with a glory 
 not of earth, met the fixed gaze of unspoken agony 
 in those above ; and Yensie, looking in their 
 depths, felt her grasp loosening on her treasure, 
 and dared not ask it otherwise. There were a few 
 moments of unbroken silence, while the maiden 
 battled with the waves of anguish surging through 
 her soul ; the little hands, so precious in their min 
 istry now nearty ended meanwhile smoothing 
 cheek, and hair, and brow. 
 
 " O, Ennie," at last she said, whisperingly, " O, 
 Ennie, don't look so ! If He came for you, I'd say 
 yes, because I love you, Ennie, and because you'd 
 be so happy." 
 
 Yensie stooped and kissed the white brow. 
 
 " I am selfish, little Maude, very selfish," she 
 said, " but I will try to overcome it.-** 
 
 " And you'll say, yes," with a bright little smile. 
 
 " I dare not say no," the girl answered, brokenly.
 
 90 YENSIE WALtON. 
 
 " That isn't a cheerful giver is it ? " inquired the 
 child. " You know the verse you taught me, said, 
 ' God loveth a cheerful giver.' " 
 
 "Oh, little one," cried Yensie, clasping her to 
 her bosom, "I am but human. Surely He who 
 was touched with the feeling of our infirmities, 
 can understand, and will not condemn me. My 
 Violet, God will teach your Ennie to say yes, 
 some day, but O, I cannot say it now." 
 
 Maude, as if understanding, put up her sweet 
 mouth and kissed the trembling lips of her cousin, 
 whispering : 
 
 " 111 tell you all about it. He came to me the 
 other night, when I was asleep, and took me in his 
 arms, and called me his little lamb. I was so 
 happy I was sorry when I woke and found I lived, 
 till I fought of you ; for I fought you'd rather 
 know he was coming and be ready, so I told you. 
 Now Ennie, please sing ? " 
 
 Yensie's stricken heart felt like anything but 
 song. Yet obedient to the child's request, she 
 sang hymn after hymn, until at length their sooth 
 ing sank into her o\vn breast, alleviating its agony. 
 
 Great is the power of sacred song ! Who has 
 not felt it lulling to calm the discordance of his 
 soul? Who has not felt great thoughts stirring 
 within him under its magical influence ? Pity the 
 child whose heart responds not to a mother's 
 psalmody, the man who never feels his soul pulsate 
 to its divine vibrations ! They have been robbed
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 91 
 
 of one of Nature's choicest gifts, and walk amid 
 their fellows soul-dwarfed. 
 
 One little word of comfort Violet dropped : 
 
 " You have me now, Ennie." 
 
 How true this was ! She felt the little head 
 upon her bosom, held the little hands within her 
 own ; and prone as humanity will ever be to put 
 away its sorrow, and press calamity upon some 
 future morrow, ere long the maiden smiled again 
 upon the waiting face. 
 
 The restfulness settling upon her heart was mir 
 rored in her countenance, and with her child-desire 
 to help it on, Maude named hymn after hymn, 
 leading her on to cheerful themes and bird-like 
 melodies. 
 
 "Now," she cried at last, her face blossoming 
 into the one above, "Now, Ennie, my fairies." 
 
 This was a merry, witching song, a favorite with 
 Violet, and soon its ever-changeful, dancing, trill 
 ing melody was ringing through the tree-tops. 
 
 The child delighted, clapped her hands for joy, 
 her blue eyes sparkling with pleasure : 
 
 " O, Ennie, see ! " she cried, suddenly, pointing 
 to a cluster of trees near. And Yensie, with sur 
 prise amounting almost to dismay, saw two pairs 
 of bright eyes, belonging to two manly forms 
 carelessly leaning against a tree trunk, regarding 
 her earnestly. 
 
 She started to her feet, dropping child and book, 
 and bringing down the dark mass of curling hair,
 
 92 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 already loosened by those little fingers, about her 
 like a cloud. 
 
 The possessors of the eyes, one pair as black as 
 night, the other pair of that indescribable hue, so 
 like to Alice Grey's, that Yensie felt herself at 
 once drawn toward them, approached. 
 
 "Pray, Miss Walton, pardon us," said Harry 
 Campbell. " We heard your singing at some dis 
 tance, and were drawn here irresistibly. Pray 
 don't go." 
 
 The young girl knew not what to do. She lifted 
 her hands to coil her hair, and the fingers touched 
 the flowers. 
 
 " Violet, dear child, what have you done ? " she 
 said in real distress, the color richly dyeing cheek 
 and brow as she remembered how she was adorned. 
 " Where are my hair-pins ? " 
 
 "Somewhere," answered the tiny witch, quite 
 definitely. I'll find them. I was only making 
 you a queen. Sit down, and I will make it all 
 nice again. Oh, please don't take them out ! You 
 can't, anyway ! " laughing at Yensie's attempts to 
 undo her work ; and the maiden saw it was useless. 
 
 " Let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Gar- 
 denell. Perhaps you remember me ? I am Harry 
 Campbell, whom once you honored by supposing 
 him to be a newly-imported Englishman," said 
 Harry, evidently relishing the girl's distress, by 110 
 means diminished by a glance into his roguish 
 face.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 93 
 
 " We are the intruders, let us go if need be, but 
 ilo not relinquish your charming retreat, Miss 
 Walton," said Herbert. 
 
 "You were reading," he continued, lifting the 
 book from its place at his feet, where it had fallen. 
 " You are fond of good company, I see," he added, 
 significantly, as the book falling open discovered to 
 him a Greek Testament. 
 
 The quiet ease of his manner did much towards 
 restoring Yensie to her usual composure. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, receiving the book from his 
 hand, " but this is stranger company ; or perhaps I 
 had better say an old friend in a new dress. I 
 have not read much, however, this afternoon." 
 And hardly knowing what else to do she relin 
 quished herself to the little hands pulling at her 
 dress, and took her old seat. 
 
 " I can't find the hair-pins," whispered Maude. 
 
 Harry had been remarking : " You have a 
 pleasant view here," but now, hearing Violet's 
 loud whisper, he turned to her : 
 
 " No matter, Puss, the hair does very nicely 
 without them ; don't hunt any longer." And 
 stooping he opened his arms to her, while he noted 
 amusedly, the bright blood flush again the face of 
 the young girl. 
 
 "Little witch," he said, when Maude, after a 
 searching glance into his face, allowed herself to 
 be taken up ; " little witch, didn't you know it 
 wasn't at all proper to unfasten ladies' braids and
 
 94 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 dress them up in flowers when company was 
 coming ? " 
 
 "But I didn't know yon were coming," said the 
 child, innocently lifting her great eyes to his face, 
 "and I fink Ennie looks just lovely in them, don't 
 you? " as if she feared he might say "no." 
 
 " Exceedingly ! " said Harry emphatically, glanc 
 ing slyly at the young lady, who was in conversa 
 tion with Herbert, who had seated himself near 
 her. 
 
 "You shall dress me up and make me a king; 
 what do you say to that ? Now here's my hat," 
 laying it in her lap, and lifting his uncovered head 
 to the refreshing breeze just beginning to stir the 
 air. Now, dress it finely, and I will wear it home, 
 see if I don't." 
 
 " Oh, will you, Mr. what did you say your 
 name was ? " asked the delighted child. 
 
 "Harry," he answered. "Now 'tis but fair I 
 should ask yours." 
 
 " My name is Maude, but Ennie calls me Violet, 
 and I like that best," said the wee thing, decidedly. 
 
 Yensie and Herbert had ceased their talk and 
 were both regarding and listening to her. 
 
 "It is the sweeter name of the two," said 
 Harry, carelessly. " I always loved the violet with 
 its eye of blue, like yours. You are well named." 
 
 " Yes, well named ! " said Yensie, so bitterly 
 that both young men turned to her quickly, as 
 Maude bounded away with Harry's hat. Yensie
 
 YENSEE WALTON. 95 
 
 read the questien in Herbert's eyes and answered 
 it. 
 
 " No sweeter violet ever blossomed, Mr. Gar- 
 denell, but it only lives a little hour. I've seen 
 them so early in the spring-time peeping out as if 
 to cheer our hearts at prospect of a winter past, 
 and yet when summer sun set in they all were 
 gone. God only knows what spring-time promise 
 came with sweet Maude to my frozen heart. How 
 can I meet the heat and glow of summer, and be 
 content with its gaudier flowers, when she is 
 gone ? " She had forgotten her hearers now, and 
 tears were dropping on her Testament. 
 
 Instinctively, the two gentlemen glanced at the 
 tiny, fragile, fairy-like figure flitting in and out be 
 neath the trees. Instinctively they felt she was 
 right ; and each in the pity of his heart longed to 
 comfort her. Yet both felt, in that moment, the 
 helplessness that meets us all when facing life's 
 realities. 
 
 Herbert Gardenell just touched the Greek Tes 
 tament still in her lap, and whispered : " Jesus." 
 Harry lifted his hand and beckoned to the little 
 one. 
 
 She came bounding to him, her cheeks glowing 
 from the exercise, her eyes sparkling with delight. 
 
 "Oh, see the beauties," she cried, "won't your 
 hat be gay ? " And Yensie looking up and sharing 
 her pleasure, smiled. 
 
 " Please sing again, Miss Walton," besought
 
 96 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Harry, hat cocked upon the back part of his head 
 to accommodate the little lady adorning it. Yen- 
 sie could but laugh as she looked at him. 
 
 " Puss, I declare, if that doesn't feel exactly as 
 Miss Grant's bonnet looks. Don't make me too 
 pretty, now, it might be dangerous," with such a 
 comical grimace. " Miss Walton, do sing, please." 
 
 Herbert's eyes certainly seconded his friend's 
 petition, and Miss Violet cried : 
 
 " My fairy again ; oh, please do, Ennie." And 
 thus constrained, the maiden yielded. 
 
 " A thousand thanks, Miss Ennie, said Harry, as 
 she ended. " Now, Puss, you must kiss me, as 
 any lady should her knight-errant willing to wear 
 her colors valiantly." 
 
 Violet has not given me one flower," said Her 
 bert, smiling. 
 
 " You are a very big man," said the little girl, 
 timidly, standing before him, as if not wishing to 
 offend him, yet fearing to offer him the few flowers 
 she had left. 
 
 " Hear ! hear ! " laughed Harry. " She chooses 
 companions nearer her size. I always told you, 
 Gardenell, your six feet would be at disadvantage 
 in some places. Don't be afraid, Violet, I'll guar 
 antee he shan't eat you." 
 
 But Violet had evidently no such fears. She 
 had yielded both her hands to the young man, and 
 stood looking into his face with a gravity that 
 brought a smile to his lips.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 97 
 
 " It's no matter if you are big," she said, as if 
 fearing Harry's words had hurt his feelings; " your 
 heart can be all the bigger, can't it? Your eyes 
 don't laugh like Mr. Harry's, but they rest me. 
 Perhaps your heart laughs, it must if you love 
 Jesus do you ? " 
 
 Herbert bent his great head until his lips swept 
 her cheek, as he said : " Yes." 
 
 " And Ennie ? " as if that, too, were part of re 
 ligion. 
 
 This was not so easy to answer, but she did not 
 notice that he avoided it. 
 
 All that love Jesus love each other," she said ; 
 "don't they, Mr. " 
 
 " Herbert," put in Harry. 
 
 " Herbert ? " added the child. " If I was very 
 tired," she went on, "and you took me in your 
 great arms, and carried me, it would not make you 
 tired, would it ? It must be nice to be strong, be 
 cause you can help those who are weak." 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " and nice to be weak, and 
 give somebody strong the pleasure of carrying us." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I didn't think of that. I'm glad you 
 told me. Jesus carries the lambs in his bosom, 
 Ennie says, and he came and told me so himself 
 the other night," this in a whisper " and I'm 
 going to him soon," Then coming back suddenly 
 to the point from which she started : " Would you 
 like to have me put these flowers in your button 
 hole ? "
 
 98 YENSEB WALTON. 
 
 Having been answered in an affirmative, she 
 busied herself in arranging them, talking to him 
 the while. 
 
 " I don't know but they will look quite as well 
 as a hatful for a gentleman as big and grave as 
 you are ; but I'd get you more if I wasn't so tired. 
 You shall have most next time. Ennie," ad 
 dressing her cousin, " please give me a pin to fasten 
 these with." 
 
 Yensie handed her the desired article : 
 
 "You must hurry, Violet," she said. "I see 
 your mother looking for us. It must be working 
 time again." 
 
 A minute after, lifting her face gravely, first for 
 Herbert's kiss, and then for Harry's, the little one 
 followed her cousin homewards, and the two young 
 men stood where they left them gazing after. 
 
 "A very uncommon child," said Herbert, mus 
 ing. 
 
 " And a not very common young lady," said 
 Harry, dryly. " I say, Gard, did you ever see any 
 one exactly like her before ? " 
 
 " No," answered Herbert, with a quiet smile 5 
 "I have often remarked that no two persons are 
 ever exactly alike." 
 
 " Bless us, how smart we are ! You know I 
 didn't mean that. She's got spunk, that girl, when 
 her blood's up. Did you notice the roses when I 
 referred to our first meeting? I never told you 
 about that, Gard forgot it myself until a few
 
 TENSIE WALTON. 99 
 
 days since, while studying up where I had seen her 
 before." And here followed a laughable account 
 of the incident with which our readers are ac 
 quainted. 
 
 " I tell you, but she was curious looking," said 
 Harry. " A large head it looked to be ; and all 
 thorned with small knots of curls, a wee face, with 
 the biggest eyes, and such a dress made after 
 the style of Madam Eve's I fancy and no shoes 
 or stockings. I glanced at her. foot this afternoon 
 so slender, and small, and dainty protruding 
 from under her dress. I wonder it isn't a flat-fish 
 after all the climbing it did, bare, over these rocks 
 and hills." 
 
 " Ever after that morning," continued Harry, 
 " she avoided me, though I often fell in her way, 
 and tried to be entertaining. Just whenever I 
 began to feel I was getting some footing with her 
 she would say some queer thing and set me off 
 laughing ; and then, of course, my lady would 
 order me home, as if all the wild land in Wynn 
 belonged to her. I haven't seen her these two 
 years, and had no idea she was so metamorphosed, 
 though she showed signs of civilization when I 
 was here last ; that is, in appearance, not particu 
 larly in her reception of me. I wonder if she'a 
 handsome ; what do you say, Gard ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You are quite sure ? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 100 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " What makes you think so ? " 
 
 Everything about her, particularly the soul in 
 her face." 
 
 '" The soul in her face," mused Harry. " " Per 
 haps, now, I'm no judge of that. Is that what 
 makes her eyes look so well so bosh, how 
 weak words are, so that a fellow wishes he was 
 Violet, a book, most anything, just to have her 
 look at him once." 
 
 Herbert laughed. " Are you lost, my friend ? " 
 he queried. 
 
 " No ; but, bless me, I'm puzzled. Can't get her 
 down to measuring line arid figures. There are 
 her eyes, no mistake, they are glorious ; mouth 
 IFell, let's see, is it large or not, Gard ; I'll be 
 hanged if I know ? I fancied it was, until she 
 smiled. Her complexion is delicious; her nose 
 well, not a Roman, neither Grecian, exactly, is it ? 
 What should you call it, Gard? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Herbert, testily. 
 
 " Mercy, he kicks a little ! Gard, I begin to 
 have serious fears for you." 
 
 " Harry behave yourself for once," begged his 
 friend. "You can't take a face like that to pieces 
 and dissect it." 
 
 " Just the conclusion I was coming to, myself. 
 You're a sensible fellow, Gard ; I admire you. I 
 was just thinking it would hardly do to measure 
 her by Miss Simpson's standard. Mouth one inch , 
 nose, only a half-inch ; eyes, each one-quarter ; ten
 
 YENSEE WALTON. 101 
 
 frizzles exactly, on each side of the face ; a rat- 
 tail of hair which grew on native soil; two or 
 three imported switches ; roses and lilies to order, 
 bust after the latest importations from Paris, etc., 
 etc.," laughed the rogue. " I say, Gard." 
 
 "What now?" inquired his friend. 
 
 "I wish I was an artist. I'd do up Violet's 
 queen in first style, and make you a present of it 
 to hang on the parsonage study-wall, as an inspira 
 tion." 
 
 " Harry, you are a sad fellow," said Herbert, 
 smiling in spite of himself. 
 
 "I knew that long since," laughed Harry, "but 
 I say, Gard, there she is looking back from the 
 porch,", and Harry kissed his hand to her. 
 
 Turning as she reached the porch, Yecsie had, 
 indeed, discovered what she did not suppose, that 
 the young men stood where she left them ; and 
 blushing crimson at Harry's salute, she shut the 
 door emphatically. 
 
 " You are a bold boy, Hany," said Herbert. " I 
 wovJd hardly like to do that yet. I doubt much if 
 you are any better pleased with that little girl's ap 
 pearance than 1 am." 
 
 " Pleased sounds quite tame sometimes," laughed 
 Harry. "Bewitched is the word. I think I should 
 not have hesitated this afternoon to answer satis 
 factorily to the second article in Violet's creed. 
 But I dared to throw her a kiss, Gard, long ago, 
 and when I wouldn't have cared as much to follow
 
 102 YENSIB WALTON. 
 
 it by an actual lip-pressure. That was when I was 
 here last. I was feeling quite a man then, and re 
 garded her as only a child, and felt almost angry 
 when I came upon her suddenly, studying beneath 
 a tree, to have her get up and run off as if I were 
 a robber. The way she sprang over the rocks and 
 bushes, until she reached the top of the hill, was 
 curious, and graceful too. I always loved beauty, 
 and the lightness and ease of her movements 
 charmed me into forgetfuluess of my chagrin ; and 
 when her flushed face looked back at me, I took 
 off my hat, and wafted her a kiss. Oh, how her 
 eyes did flash ; and guess how she received it ? 
 She stooped and lifting a stone, hurled it at my 
 head. Where was the soul in her face, then, I 
 wonder? She is a good shot, and I only saved my 
 skull by dodging. Then 1 sent her half-a-dozen 
 more kisses, just to see her blaze. I have no doubt 
 as to her beauty when she's mad. I tell you she's 
 glorious, but at other times now, compare her to 
 Miss Montague, my aunt to be." 
 
 You are unjust, Harry," said his friend, warmly, 
 not noticing the youth's sly smile. " This girl 
 cannot be more than fifteen or sixteen years old. 
 Give her ten years more, and she will have few 
 equals, no superiors. Not that she will ever be 
 of that milk-and-water beauty belonging to many. 
 Forbid she should. Royal, whole-souled women 
 are too rare not to be prized. But isn't it time for
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 103 
 
 us to turn homeward? The ladies will be wor 
 rying over your protracted absence." 
 
 As they pursue their way back to the mansion 
 house, let me describe them to you, reader, and 
 make you better acquainted.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Geenteel in personage, 
 Conduct and equipage, 
 Noble by heritage 
 
 Generous and free." 
 
 " There is to whom all things are easy : his mind as a master- 
 key, 
 
 Can open, with intuitive address, the treasures of art and 
 science." 
 
 TUPPER. 
 
 ^ARRY CAMPBELL, when not beside his 
 friend, was considered tall, being some 
 five feet nine or ten inches in height. 
 He had a slight, well-made figure, and an easy 
 carelessness of dress and manner, which was the 
 very embodiment of graceful elegance, and which 
 made him at the same time the delight of the 
 ladies, and envy of the gentlemen. 
 104
 
 YEKSIE WALTON. 105 
 
 His well-formed head was covered with a mass 
 of closely-curling black hair ; his face dark, hand 
 some, perfect and classical in every outline, was 
 lighted by a pair of roguish, laughing, mischief- 
 making eyes, continually seeking new focd for 
 merriment. 
 
 He had a tender, lo/ing, sympathetic heart, 
 which often quite ran away with his head ; a sweet, 
 full musical voice : youth, wealth, position, culture, 
 and was at the same time the pride, delight and 
 anxiety of his widowed mother, she having lav 
 ished upon him everything that wealth and love 
 could devise, lived in continual dread that his 
 strange, outspoken, democratic notions would lead 
 him into some misalliance ; or his hasty, ardent 
 temperament bring him into harm. 
 
 Mrs. Campbell had hailed with delight her son's 
 friendship for Gardenell, who had great power 
 over him. For though Herbert was poor, he was 
 well-bred and refined ; and she knew his every in 
 fluence went toward strengthening the good within 
 her wayward boy. 
 
 Harry had inherited his father's handsome face, 
 but not his careful evenly-balanced mind. And 
 the wee woman, used to leaning on her husband's 
 judgment, was in continual trouble as to which 
 way she had better pursue for herself and her chil 
 dren. She had but two children, Harry and Nettie, 
 the latter inheriting more of her father's force, with 
 her mother's pleasant, though not beautiful face.
 
 106 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Mr. Robinson, the owner of the mansion house, 
 was Mrs. Campbell's only brother, and some years 
 her senior. A bachelor, he divided his winters 
 between his Southern plantation and his sister's 
 New York residence ; but for many years had pre 
 ferred Wynn as a summer resort. 
 
 As Mr. Robinson had shown no intention of 
 marriage, Harry was regarded as next owner of 
 the mansion house and plantation, and had done 
 much as he pleased with his uncle's property. 
 More than this, he had swayed the good gentleman 
 himself, as well as his possessions. For though 
 Winthrop Robinson differed very widely from his 
 nephew in personal appearance, he possessed much 
 the same easy-going, self-indulgent temperament. 
 
 Now, though rumor said Mr. Robinson was 
 about to take a wife, and he did not contradict the 
 report, Harry's influence was unabated. And 
 when he brought Herbert Gardenell to Wynn to 
 spend his vacation, nobody thought it necessary to 
 ask any questions. As Mr. Campbell's friend, he 
 was well received, and soon won a place for him 
 self by his genial manners and fine abilities. 
 
 Herbert Gardenell was a broad giant of a fellow, 
 but not uncouth. His colossal head had hardly 
 been supported gracefully by shoulders less broad, 
 and nothing short of his six feet had well become 
 such massive shoulders. He was a large, noble- 
 looking, well-proportioned man, a very prince in 
 form and bearing, so that Harry often declared he 
 felt like taking off his hat to him.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 107 
 
 Not as handsome a man, strictly speaking, as his 
 friend, yet to see him once was to remember him 
 forever. Power was written on every lineament. 
 In hours of thoughtfulness his face was marked by 
 great gravity; and with its frowning brows and 
 compressed lips might well frighten one as timid 
 as wee Maude. But under the influence of his 
 rare smile it became sweet and tender as a woman's. 
 
 He had unusual intellectual gifts, and power to 
 couch even old, trite truths in such attractive 
 forms as to give them the appearance and force of 
 fresh acquaintances. Add to this the fact of a 
 mind lofty, far-reaching, gigantic in its propor 
 tions; wide, world-embracing in its scope, always 
 pressing to new realms of thought, while rever 
 encing time-tested truths, and securely anchored to 
 the old, old doctrines, forever new in their power 
 to hold and solidify the manhood of the world, 
 and you have some little conception of him. 
 
 Yes, he believed the doctrines of human help 
 lessness and Almighty help ; of human sinfulness 
 and sinless Christ ; of humanity clothing Divinity ; 
 immortality walking in mortal investiture ; the 
 doctrine of God-man Saviour perfect God, else 
 he had failed to reach an awful need and touch 
 outraged divinity; perfect man, or he had failed 
 as well to reach the central forces of our being, 
 " touched by the feeling of our infirmities." The 
 old, old blessed doctrines that have never failed to 
 make man more manly, since angel-singing her-
 
 108 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 aided Bethlehem's babe, the world's Saviour, the 
 son of Mary and the Son of God ! 
 
 Herbert had rare gifts fitting him for public 
 speaking. His noble bearing, his clear, ringing 
 voice, impassioned manner, deep earnestness, felic 
 ity and comprehensiveness of expression, and won 
 derful adaptation that could make itself under 
 stood by the meanest intellect ; while it swayed 
 and carried captive the broadest intelligence and 
 culture. 
 
 That eye so calm, so clear, so deep, that " rested " 
 little Violet,, could flash and fire, and burn, under 
 the power of some noble thought ; could sparkle 
 amid the play of wit for Herbert did not despise 
 merr} r -making. It is rarely that we find a truly 
 gifted man that does. Nature seldom wrongs her 
 self by such offensive specimens of her handiwork. 
 Men of the highest capacity are men of rounded, 
 finished natures broad every way that dare 
 appreciate, yea, even perpetrate a joke. 
 
 " A jollier fellow " to use his fellow-students' 
 phrase " could not be found than Gardenell." 
 Yet he was true to himself, true to God ; and they 
 all knew the minute sin was introduced, or mean, 
 low jesting, Gardenell's fun was at an end. 
 
 Indeed, Herbert Gardenell was one of God's 
 royal men, who walked above his fellows. Uncon 
 sciously, to be sure, without asserting superiority ; 
 but just as truly as if, while made of the clay of 
 commonality, he bore the seal of divinity, stamped
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 109 
 
 clearly, indelibly upon him God's name written 
 on his forehead. 
 
 Have you ever seen such a man, reader ? Mark 
 him well. God walks with him, and his fellow- 
 men may safely dwell beneath his shadow. 
 
 Herbert was poor. His father was an old, par 
 tially broken-down clergyman, who had served his 
 time and generation well ; his mother one of the 
 few women who deserve that holy name. They 
 had a small annuity, their only support, which by 
 the strictest economy was sufficient for their mod? 
 est needs. 
 
 Their boy had not only early developed uncom 
 mon talents ; but an earnest desire to consecrate 
 them to his father's calling ; and undertook that 
 task which gives to our ministry so many broken 
 men before their prime, viz : to educate himself, and 
 pay his college tuition, by money earned out of 
 school hours. 
 
 He had started with a trunk containing his small 
 stock of clothes, his Bible, and the little hoardings 
 of many months. These, with his parents' bless 
 ing, a strong, well-knit frame and determined pur 
 pose, were his whole possession ; but he felt, with 
 God's blessing, they would be enough. 
 
 Thus far he had been able to keep up bravely ; 
 but incessant labor, mental and physical, were 
 making inroads on his stalwart frame, and Harry 
 interfered.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 'He basely injures friendship's sacred name, 
 Who reckons not himself and friend the same." 
 
 was wonderful, the love existing between 
 these two young men, so unlike in almost 
 every respect. In their first hour of 
 meeting Harry acknowledged Herbert's superiority, 
 bowed to his intellect, and took him into the 
 depths of his heart; and his love had but in 
 creased with every day since. 
 
 Nothing else could so anger Campbell as a word 
 against his friend. His easy good-nature gave 
 way instantly to uncontrollable anger at the bare 
 hint of any evil in him; which two or three of 
 his college chums had found to their sorrow. 
 
 Herbert, might speak to him freely of faults 
 110
 
 YENSIE WALTON". Ill 
 
 another had not been allowed to mention. He 
 had faith in Herbert faith in his religion. And 
 perhaps this was because Herbert treated him as 
 no other did, continually putting him upon his 
 manhood, expecting him to overcome, and deny 
 himself, where it was best, if not absolutely neces 
 sary ; talked " upright, downright religion at him," 
 as he sometimes said, " without any cant in it." 
 
 Harry had seen his friend, year by year, work 
 steadily on in the midst of difficulties and pull- 
 backs, taking the lead of his class in spite of hours 
 of drudgery which should have been spent in study 
 or recreation. He had made repeated efforts to 
 have it otherwise, but to no purpose. 
 
 " I say, Gard, I won't have it," Harry said that 
 last week at school. They were room-mates. 
 
 "Won't have what, Harry?" inquired the young 
 man, shutting his book and giving his friend his 
 undivided attention. 
 
 " Won't see you killing yourself this way. 
 You're a giant, I know you are, or you'd have 
 been under before this ; working yourself as you'd 
 be ashamed to work a horse. I declare it's too 
 bad ! I did think you had a conscience ; I've 
 heard you talk as if you had. I wonder if that 
 old book you prize so much says anything about a 
 man's body being God's, or is it all soul, that you 
 are trying to sink your body as fast as you can?" 
 Arid Harry stopped in his rapid walk and looked 
 into Herbert's face as he added : " I have thought
 
 112 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 perhaps he gave you that gigantic build because of 
 tough work he had ahead for you to do ; but I 
 could swear you were doing your best to cheat him 
 out of it if he did, the way you've used yourself 
 up this last six months. I'm downright mad at you." 
 
 " Thank you," said Herbert, thoughtfully. 
 
 Harry laughed uproariously ; Herbert looking 
 on amused at his friend's sudden mirth, yet appar 
 ently unconscious of its source. 
 
 " Well, Harry, what now ? " he asked, when the 
 young man sobered. Which simple question had 
 the effect of starting Harry off again. 
 
 *' I say, Gard, but you're an original. What on 
 earth did you thank me for a scolding ? " 
 
 " For the truth, to be sure. I really had never 
 thought of the subject in this light before. I had 
 forgotten that God had given me a body to take 
 care of. I thank you," said the young man, heartily. 
 
 " Then I can impart a little wisdom to a half- 
 fledged minister ? Thank you, my friend. I feel 
 proud of myself ; I begin to realize the ' might 
 have been ' within me. Gard, old boy, I haven't 
 the ninety-ninth part of a chance to bless mankind 
 personally, why not give me this second-hand op 
 portunity of being useful. Only for the sake of 
 philanthropy, my boy, without taking yourself into 
 the bargain at all; but for the love you hold for 
 your sinner-friend, anxious to do some good in this 
 world, and win some credit for another. 
 
 " Now, here I am, done school, thank goodness,
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 113 
 
 with the smell of good times and foreign travel 
 ahead. I am grateful, exceedingly so, that my 
 school course is ended. Isn't it only becoming 
 that I should show my gratitude by some thank- 
 offering to one who, on my behalf and that of ' a 
 world lying in wickedness,' (you see I can talk 
 prayer-meeting) is willing to immolate himself for 
 two or three years more on the altar of theology. 
 Gard, I feel good ; I begin to have faith that my 
 eloquence is irresistible. Admit that I have put 
 this thing in its right light and that you are con 
 vinced ? " 
 
 "I am ready to admit myself convinced that 
 you are the best fellow that ever lived," said Her 
 bert, warmly; "but, Harry" 
 
 " No buts about it, my dear fellow," interrupted 
 Harry, "don't you suppose I've been over the 
 ground often enough to know every inch of it? 
 Bless you ! I don't want you to accept a charity, 
 I scorn the idea. I don't intend to give you this 
 money ; catch me at it ! I am simply going to 
 make an investment and share dividends. I'm to 
 foot the school bills, understand, (a good way to 
 use up spare money that troubles me ) you're to 
 do the preaching. And if you'll promise me a half 
 of the returns as my share, to be charged against 
 the debit side of my account in that book over 
 yonder that you tell me about, I'll call it more 
 than square." 
 
 " Harry, Harry, listen to me. I don't expect
 
 114 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 the results of my preaching could ever pay my 
 own debts or anybody's else. But, dear boy, if 
 you will lend me this sum until I get in a way to 
 repay you, I will be obliged to you. I can't re 
 ceive it on any other grounds." 
 
 " Can't ! " growled Harry. " Gard, I'm disap 
 pointed- in you. Thought you'd be willing to give 
 a fellow a lift, even at the expense of your own 
 particular feelings, which in this particular case 
 are particularly disagreeable and out of place. 
 Not a word, not a word," checking Herbert, 
 who was about to speak "I see you are deter 
 mined, obstinate as a mule; bound not to give a 
 poor sinner the chance of laying up a dollar for 
 another world. Well, I suppose that's a strange 
 way you have of practicing the Golden Rule. 
 Honor bright, if you were able and I not able to 
 pay for my schooling, I'd give you the chance, if 
 only to make you feel well ; and if I believed in 
 the ' Whatsoever ' of that old rule, as you profess 
 to, I'd be conscientiously bound to. But then, if 
 those are your only conditions I'll be obliged to 
 accept them." 
 
 Herbert's face was a study. His friend had put 
 the thing quite differently from what he had ex 
 pected. 
 
 " Harry, you'd feel better in my place, to pay it 
 again, if ever able, wouldn't you ? " 
 
 Harry laughed. 
 
 " Don't look so melancholy, my friend ! Yes, I
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 115 
 
 believe I should feel better, and I suppose we must 
 make the rule fit that, must we ? ' Whatsoever ye 
 would that men should ' I give up, Gard, feel 
 won't work well in there. I'm a poor theologian, 
 after all. What are you thinking of ! " and Harry 
 pursed his brows and compressed his lips in exact 
 imitation of his friend. 
 
 " Of you," answered Herbert, simply. 
 
 " And what, pray, of me ? " 
 
 " That if grace had endowed you as richly as 
 Nature, you would walk a king among men," said 
 Gardenell. 
 
 " No preaching," cried Harry, " this is a business 
 meeting. Bless me, where wouldn't that fellow 
 drag in religion ? Talk about a call to preach ! 
 The most skeptical would be convinced on that 
 point concerning you, if but he might enjoy your 
 society for a day. I say, Gard, if you ever fall in 
 love which is doubtful be careful how you 
 fling St. Paul at the young lady, or you'll lose her. 
 Now, where were we ? Oh, I remember. You've 
 agreed to give up that fancy wood- work that you've 
 attended to lately for Mrs. Tenedy at starva 
 tion a cord, and devote the force thus saved to 
 theology, for the express benefit of your Jonathan. 
 If this is settled satisfactorily, I beg to go on to 
 the consideration of another item." 
 
 " With the express understanding that what I 
 shall borrow from you, is to be repaid at the first 
 opportunity," interrupted Herbert.
 
 116 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " My dear sir ; certainly, certainly," replied 
 Harry, with a comical grimace. " With the ex 
 press understanding that I shall feel very much 
 obliged to you if you fall down and forget it ; and 
 promise, if you die prematurely, not to call on your 
 widow for settlement. Now, to that other small 
 affair; and I assure you in this my will shall be 
 law, without a single objection or modification. I 
 wish you to prepare yourself to spend vacation 
 with me at Wynn, at my Uncle Winthrop's resi 
 dence. Not a word, sir," peremptorily, to Herbert, 
 about to speak. " I know every objection you can 
 raise. Your father and mother can as well spare 
 you to fish, hunt, and enjoy yourself generally, as 
 they could to work and kill yourself. Write to 
 them at once and tell them you have fallen in with 
 a small chap, who especially needs consoling, amus 
 ing, instructing anything, in short, but who can 
 not get along without you, and you find yourself 
 conscientiously bound to serve him." 
 
 " Really, I'd like to go first-rate," said Herbert, 
 musingly. " It would be pleasant to have a regu 
 lar rest, but " 
 
 " I thought I told you once that ' buts ' were 
 ruled out of this meeting, as they should be," in 
 terrupted Harry ; but his friend was smiling, un 
 conscious of what he had said. 
 
 " I've hit it," he cried, with much of Campbell's 
 enthusiasm. I can run home a few days and see 
 father and mother. I must do that ; and I know
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 117 
 
 they'll be glad to have me go with you. I can be 
 back time enough to start with you from New 
 York, or meet you at Wynn which you please." 
 
 " You dutiful child, I will wait for you,'' laughed 
 Harry, " if only to encourage you in honoring 
 your parents. I always did believe in rewarding 
 virtue. Pity we couldn't transport the old lady 
 and gentleman bodily to Wynn ; they'd enjoy it, I 
 know. I'm half a mind to go home with you and 
 see the blessed old couple. I'm really curious to 
 behold that little mother of whom you boast." 
 
 " Good, come, jolly ! " said Herbert, enthusi 
 astically ; and so it was settled. 
 
 " I say," said Herbert, presently, " Harry, you 
 talk as if school business was ended for you, for 
 ever. You don't mean it, surely. It is a shame 
 to waste your talents." 
 
 " Didn't know I had any before," was the care 
 less response. 
 
 " Why, don't you study law ? " continued the 
 young man, not noticing the interruption. 
 
 " Law, mercy I I'm bad enough now. You 
 wouldn't like to see me an out-and-out rascal, 
 would you ? " 
 
 " Well, then, medicine," said Herbert, smiling. 
 
 " A doctor ! " the tone expressing unbounded 
 astonishment. "You're joking, Gard; you really 
 can't mean it ! I'd rather try preaching be bound 
 if I wouldn't. I should be sure to administer 
 poison to the fellow that wanted to live, and wine
 
 118 YENSEE WALTON. 
 
 and tonics to the man that'd give his old hat for 
 spunk enough to hang himself. I've no thought 
 of taking up blue pills and arsenic yet awhile, if 
 I know myself." 
 
 " But, Harry, an idle American is a disgrace to 
 his country," continued Herbert. 
 
 " Then I must disgrace it, at least, for the pres 
 ent. I hate work; I really do. Don't look so 
 alarmed, my friend; this is no new symptom of 
 disease. I am not what is vulgarly called lazy, 
 only indisposed to exert myself. And as there is 
 no positive need just now, I think I'll not try. If 
 the banks all fail, and my wife dies and leaves me 
 with a small brood to maintain, I'll think of your 
 propositions ; until then give me a rest do. And 
 if you have no particular text on hand just now, 
 about working and eating, which it will relieve 
 you perceptibly to repeat, let me introduce a sub 
 ject far more interesting to myself, at least." 
 
 "I am all attention," said Gardenell. 
 
 " Well said," began Harry. " You see, Gard," 
 and he hesitated, stammering in a way quite un 
 usual with him. "I think, well I'll be bound 
 if I can say what I want to. I ain't a bit like you, 
 now ; 3*011 could get it up as smooth as a summer's 
 sky. But old fellow, I think don't you think 
 or rather, I don't know but you'd better hang it, 
 if I don't say it right out straight and plain, I 
 can't say it at all, and here goes. If you don't 
 like my way of saying it, just slick it up and say
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 119 
 
 It over to yourself and imagine it's me ; but, Gard^ 
 that best suit of yours is kind of shabby." 
 
 Herbert Gardenell was listening with some 
 amazement to this disjointed speech ; and now, as 
 it suddenly dawned upon him what his friend was 
 aiming at, he threw his head back, and sent peal 
 after peal of laughter ringing through the room. 
 
 " You'll break your neck some of these days, 
 throwing your head back in that style." Harry 
 said, testily. But the look on Herbert's face was 
 irresistible, and the youth forgot his small indigna 
 tion as he joined in his friend's mirth. 
 
 " Well," said Campbell, at last, as laughter 
 ended ; the two sat looking at each other through 
 dewy eyes. 
 
 " Well, it's a great thing to laugh at, after all, 
 that shabby rig of yours. Now don't go to laugh 
 ing again," shaking his fist at Herbert, who 
 looked very much like a second indulgence "I 
 can't fix up speeches to suit occasions, I see ; but, 
 in plain English, I want you to have another before 
 we set out on our journey." 
 
 " Can't afford it," said Herbert, decidedly, 
 
 "I can," was the comprehensive reply. 
 
 But Gardenell shook his head decisively. 
 
 " I have scruples against receiving such a gift." 
 
 " Hang your scruples," muttered Harry. " Con 
 science again, I suppose. What has conscience to 
 do with clothes? A very uncomfortable com 
 modity, always poking in where it's least wanted."
 
 120 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " Harry," said Herbert, gravely, " how often 
 must I tell you that ' hang it ' is an expression I 
 do not admire." 
 
 " Conscience again ! Hang there I go again. 
 Beg your pardon, Gard, but you'll have to make 
 me over before I'll suit. I'm all wrong from be 
 ginning to end." 
 
 Herbert's hand was on his friend's arm now, his 
 eyes looking up into his, that tender, winning 
 smile which so transformed his face, hovering 
 about his lips : 
 
 " You try so hard to please your earthly friend ; 
 a better motive would give better results, Harry, 
 my brother." 
 
 " Don't preach," interrupted the youth. " You 
 take advantage of my weak points, Gard. You 
 know I hate to grieve you, but plague it all, I 
 can't be just like you." 
 
 " I don't want you to be," was the reply. 
 
 " There it is again. I suppose you'll tell me 
 next, you want me to be better. Gard, you're a 
 precious old saint, and I'm nothing but a sinner, 
 after all ; you'll have to give me up, I know you 
 will. I'm sorry you tried your hand first on such 
 a hard specimen ; rather discouraging to a j'oung 
 parson. There, don't look so grave. I'll try I 
 promise I will. I'll do anything, only don't 
 preach. You blessed old fogy, everybody can't 
 see things just as you do." 
 
 Harry forgot that just those very words, " old-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 121 
 
 fogy," spoken of his friend by another, had cost 
 that other a black eye, administered by himself, oil 
 the spot. He went on now : 
 
 " Gard, if you'll please give me your reasons for 
 pronouncing that other business a failure ? " 
 
 Herbert smiled. " I don't need a suit." 
 
 " Bosh ! " was the expressive reply. 
 
 " I am not a moneyed gentleman ; have there 
 fore few fears of being called stingy. Then, too, 
 though my suit is not like yours, immaculate, it is 
 not bad. It is as good as I ever had as good as I 
 expect for years. I should feel very much as if 
 sailing under false colors, if I wore much better." 
 
 " That's a precious piece of silliness," said 
 Harry, hotly. " Are you not as much of a gentle 
 man as anybody can be? Why shouldn't you 
 wear as fine broadcloth as myself? " 
 
 " Because I can't pay for it," said Herbert, 
 quietly. 
 
 " Bosh ! " again, from Harry. " You'd like to 
 wear as fine clothes as anybody." 
 
 " Admitted," replied his friend. " We do not 
 take issue there." 
 
 " You would become them as well," continued 
 Harry. 
 
 " Undoubtedly," laughed Herbert. 
 
 " Can have them as easily." 
 
 " If I ask no questions as to who settles my bills," 
 put in Gardenell, slyly. " Admit Campbell, you 
 wouldn't do it yourself. You'd rather wear clothes
 
 122 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 bought by yourself, even if coarser than those the 
 gift of another." 
 
 " Pride," quoth Harry, sententiously. 
 
 " But worthy pride," persisted his friend. " You 
 know you'll admire me more in that old coat, than 
 done up in the best of broadcloth." 
 
 " I know no such thing," was the reply. 
 " There'll be lots of handsome ladies there, Gard, 
 and I want you to make a good impression." 
 
 " And a false one," said Herbert, shaking his 
 head. "I can make a good one in my old suit, 
 my friend, and make no dumb falsehoods by my 
 apparel. My clothes are not half as bad as you 
 imagine, and if you cannot take me in them, I 
 must give up my visit." 
 
 "That you won't," cried Harry, springing up 
 and grasping the young man's hand. "But I will 
 admit, that while you are the queerest fellow I 
 ever came across, I shouldn't object to being just 
 as queer myself."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " The tost sand darkenelh the waves : and cleai had been the 
 
 pages of truth, 
 
 Had not the glosses of men obscured the simplicity of faith." 
 
 Proverbial Philosophy. 
 
 'OW does thee do?" said Alice Grey, in a 
 tone and manner worthy of a thorough 
 bred Quakeress, as a bright face followed 
 a short, light rap into her sunny apartment. 
 
 Alice always greeted her choice friends her 
 inner-circle of acquaintances in this style ; and 
 surely no one could have better become the far- 
 famed snowy muslin and silver-grey of Quaker- 
 hood. Yensie often wondered if somewhere there 
 did not run one little thread of Quaker blood 
 through the veins of her friend, especially when 
 she found her arrayed in the soft, silvery robes 
 which always seemed her preference. 
 123
 
 124 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " O, Alice," Yensie now said, "you look like an 
 angel!" 
 
 " Grey angels ! O, Yensie, I am astonished. 
 Don't let your love of flattery run away with your 
 good sense," said her teacher, smiling ; for she 
 loved sometimes to tease a little her impulsive 
 pupil. 
 
 " You know I wasn't flattering a bit. You know 
 just what I do mean, too ; but, Alice I have come 
 to you for help," Yensie said, soberly. 
 
 Miss Grey was all attention in a moment. 
 
 " What troubles you, my child ? " 
 
 "I've found one book that puzzles me, Alice. 
 This book, that I used to think old-fashioned and 
 out of date," the girl answered, drawing from her 
 pocket a small Bible. 
 
 "It is so new in every sense starts trains of 
 thought altogether unimagined before, and leads 
 me I know not where. How many, many times I 
 wish myself beside you, teacher, so wise in all 
 things, both heavenly and earthly. What should 
 I do without you, Alice ? " caressing the white 
 hand that lay upon her arm. 
 
 " Go to God, I trust, my child ; perhaps that is 
 the reason he desires to remove me. Yensie, the 
 Bible is too wonderful for any merely earthly wis 
 dom to fathom. It has but one Interpreter; he is 
 found on bended knees." 
 
 The young girl sat quietly, still caressing uncon 
 sciously the delicate hand of her teacher.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 12o 
 
 " I did ask help," she said at lengtfa, slowly , 
 " but perhaps I made a mistake in thinking I could 
 solve the problems met here, much as I did those 
 in arithmetic, and bring them to as exact and log 
 ical conclusions. I suppose, when God says a thing 
 is right we must believe it such, though seemingly 
 contrary to our sense of justice? " raising her dark 
 eyes questioningly to the face above hers. 
 
 " Finite may never hope to solve Infinity," was 
 the reply. " Much which appears uncertain, 
 vague, and ofttimes questionable good to our mor 
 tality, will take to itself perfect symmetry and un 
 questionable justice to our immortality. I believe, 
 and love to believe, Yensie, that all God does, says 
 or allows, will sometime make itself manifest to us 
 as consistent with the highest and most indispu 
 table reason ; until then, I can wait for light on 
 things yet dim, and trust him where I cannot 
 trace." And the pure, sweet, upturned face bore 
 ample testimony to this. " Yensie, you have not 
 told me yet your difficulty." 
 
 " The eighth chapter of Romans, Alice. It came 
 in my course of reading, yesterday," the maiden 
 answered. 
 
 " The old battle-field well-covered with wordy 
 wars of ancient and modern heroes," said Alice. 
 "Nevertheless, it shines out through and above 
 them all, as sweetly full of God's own light, as if 
 they many of them had not lived, fought and 
 died, ignorant of its precious ministry to their own
 
 126 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 souls, had they but received it. Yensie, in all 
 Bible study, take the book sensibly, and believe 
 what you read just as it reads. It was written 
 for men, as such, and as much as any other 
 book, and as sensibly, if God has not failed. 
 Surely He who knew men, knew how to speak so as 
 to be understood by them, even the most ignorant 
 and simple. You may receive this book as you 
 would any other, with this remarkable difference : 
 it is every word unquestionably true, and however 
 well known, ever quite new to each humble soul's 
 ever-changing necessity. 
 
 " O, Miss Grey ! " cried Yensie, " You surely 
 do not mean to say that it is all to be taken liter 
 ally, just as it reads. Are not some parts to be 
 applied spiritually and some practically ? " 
 
 " Some parts were written for the spiritual in 
 man, and some for the practical, and can only be 
 received in this way," answered Miss Grey, quietly. 
 " God has drawn his own line, Yensie. You and I 
 have absolutely nothing to do with that ; the Holy 
 Spirit applies the truth as it is intended. We are 
 to receive it as God's good, loving, tender letter to 
 us telling what others have done, what we are to 
 do until he comes, or takes us to himself. I pre 
 fer his precious message michanged however 
 crude it may appear to some rather than the 
 well-meant embellishments and explanations of 
 over zealous friends. I like to believe he knew 
 just what I was when he wrote it to me; and
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 127 
 
 therefore, wrote just what I could understand. 
 And what puzzles me I prefer to keep until I see 
 him, and can ask him its meaning. But Yeusie," 
 as if to turn the conversation, " your troublesome 
 chapter has brought me much of my sweetest com 
 fort for many years. What objections can you 
 possibly urge against my old friend ? " 
 
 " I don't know really whether I have objections," 
 said the young girl. "I don't want to object to 
 God. It is the old trouble, Alice ; I can get no 
 farther than. I understand, and so 'I lighted upon 
 a certain place, and tarried there all night, be 
 cause the sun was set,' " said the girl, in the 
 words of a late Sabbath-school lesson. " I was so 
 delighted with the chapter, it seemed the most 
 precious of any I had read, until I got to the 
 twenty -eighth verse. I think I could have got 
 over that even, if it had not been for the two that 
 follow; I could not explain them away, and the 
 ' calling, foreknowledge, predestination,' etc., were 
 just so many rocks upon which my head lay any 
 thing but restfully, last night," and she sighed. 
 
 Miss Grey smiled. 
 
 " You have altogether mistaken their use, dear 
 child," she said. " They were never intended for 
 a pillow to your head ; but rather a strong founda 
 tion for your feet to rest on. Though a firm 
 foundation gives more chance of rest, I grant you. 
 The man who built his house on the rock took 
 twice the comfort, that stormy night, that his
 
 128 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 neighbor did ; and he had good reason to. ' Built 
 up in our most holy faith,' Yensie, this is a part of 
 it. I am glad, my child," Miss Grey continued, 
 " that you have come to this just now, in the very 
 beginning of your Christian life learned divines 
 to the contrary. Milk is good when sweet and 
 rich ; and beef as well, when rightly prepared. 
 And I have dared to believe that a little spiritual 
 meat, skillfully administered, instead of hurting 
 our young converts, might result in a more robust 
 Christian life." 
 
 " But, Miss Grey," said Yensie, "it looks so ter 
 rible to me this choice of God." 
 
 " Does it ? Now it looks beautiful to me," re 
 sponded the lady. 
 
 " Yes, when one is among the called ; but how 
 can we be sure ? " 
 
 " My darling has come to ' Doubting Castle,' " 
 said Miss Grey. " I think, Yensie, God's written 
 word and voice in the soul always agree ; and it is 
 written : ' My sheep hear my voice and follow 
 me.' " 
 
 " What if he had not called me ? " questioned 
 Yensie. 
 
 " He has," replied the lady. 
 
 " But I always thought," said the girl, timidly, 
 "that salvation was free." 
 
 " It is," was the answer, " ' Without money and 
 without price.' ' 
 
 " Yes, I know that," said Yensie ; " but I meant 
 full, world-embracing."
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 129 
 
 " ' Come unto me and be ye saved, all the ends 
 of the earth ; ' ' Whosoever will, let him come and 
 take of the water of life freely,' " repeated Alice. 
 
 " O, Miss Grey, how can these two agree ? " 
 queried Yensie. 
 
 "There are some that cavil at the thought of 
 three persons and one Godhead, and say, like Nic- 
 odemus of old : ' How can these things be ? ' 
 said her teacher. " ' Nevertheless, the foundation 
 of God standeth sure.' We must follow the WORD, 
 believe the WOED, until we get where mortality is 
 to be swallowed up of life. Eternity will make 
 plain many mysteries ; the Judgment make many 
 revelations concerning both God and man ; until 
 then, let us be patient." 
 
 " But," objected Yensie, " but, Miss Grey, can 
 you not somewhat explain this ? " 
 
 " No, child," was the reply, " I should be equal 
 to my Creator, could I read him fully. There is a 
 verse in the thirteenth chapter of first Corinthians 
 that reads : ' Then shall I know, even as also I am 
 known.' That will be mighty, all-comprehensive 
 knowledge. There is an end to ignorance, you see ; 
 but not here not here. When we are like Him, 
 darling, because we see Him as He is, then shall 
 we know all; for the present we must say, He 
 Jcnoivs, and let that suffice. Part of the truth, 
 with the assurance of knowing all soon, provided 
 it gives us all the light we need to walk by is 
 enough, or ought to be. There is such a thing as
 
 130 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 predestination He says so. Such a thing as free 
 moral agency He says so. They run like threads 
 of iron and gold through the whole Bible, old and 
 new, strengthening and glorifying it. We could 
 not do without them both, or we should have had 
 but one ; God never wastes. His predestinating 
 grace upholds my faith, even when my feet slip. 
 His ' Whosoever will, may ' is given, that none de 
 spair. Election is God's choice ; free moral agency 
 is man's yet these two are one. The first is God's 
 grasp which holds and never tires ; the second is 
 man's hand stretched upward to receive that clasp. 
 One represents Infinity looking down, seeking 
 man's love and willing it His ; the other represents 
 finiteness, with hungry cry raised to the throne, 
 asking the privilege of loving, fitness to love, him 
 self thus ratifying heaven's decree. You and I, 
 Yensie, perhaps cannot reconcile these two. He 
 can. He is King ; do not uncrown him. Let God 
 be God ; we would not bring him down to our 
 own level, or measure him by the extent of 
 our own comprehension. Nay, rather let us bring 
 ourselves, and all we have, to him and his Bible, 
 allowing them to be our standard, fashioning 
 our religion to suit them, rather than trying that 
 degenerating process of bringing them down to 
 suit our preconceived notions." 
 
 The young girl did not speak when her teacher 
 ceased talking; but, skilled in reading that young 
 face, Miss Grey saw she was still troubled.
 
 WALTON. 181 
 
 "My child, if I had done something which 
 looked unjust to you, would you condemn me for 
 it ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, dear Alice," was the prompt reply. 
 
 "Why not?" continued the lady, smiling. 
 
 " Because in all my life, I never knew you to be 
 unjust ; and I should be sure you could make it 
 quite right by an explanation." 
 
 " And you would do just right. Then seeing 
 our Father has done all things well, darling, where 
 we can follow him, let us trust him unfalteringly 
 where we cannot. Plant your feet upon the truth, 
 dear child, it will bear you. Take those trouble 
 some passages home to your heart, they will be 
 like impressions from the King's own signet ring. 
 Oh, let him seal you on your forehead so clearly, 
 so plainly, that not only he, but all the world shall 
 know, that you are one of those that he knoweth 
 as his. But that it may be so, darling, you must 
 seek to live as a God-chosen woman should. ' Let 
 every one that nameth the name of Christ, depart 
 from iniquity.' " 
 
 When Miss Grey finished, Yensie's brow cleared 
 and a face full of holy fervor was lifted to her own. 
 The lady smiled brightly into the shining eyes. 
 
 " You remember, little girl," she said, " when we 
 went over that Sabbath-school lesson from which 
 you quoted at the beginning of our conversation 
 the one on Jacob that some of the scholars 
 thought it a delay to him to rest at Bethel, and he
 
 132 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 not knowing but that his brother might be in close 
 pursuit. But there, on that rocky pillow, he ob 
 tained promises of help without which his journey 
 had been worse than useless. We cannot take too 
 strong a grasp of certain truths. Fast journeyings 
 are not always the most successful. Who knows, 
 my darling, but your tarrying over those three 
 verses may be to you everlasting gain Bethel, 
 with its ladders, on which God's messengers ascend 
 and descend. Whom God keeps is well kept. 
 God give you grace to see where your keeping 
 lays not with self, but Jesus. Take your Bible 
 now, and turn to the twenty-eighth chapter of 
 Genesis and read, commencing Avith your quota 
 tion. See if you can find predestination there ? " 
 
 Yensie did as requested, and smiled as she read 
 the thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth verses. 
 The twentieth and twenty-first verses she read very 
 slowly : 
 
 " ' And Jacob vowed a vow, saying, if God will 
 be with me, and will keep me in this way that I 
 go, and will give me bread to eat and raiment to 
 put on, so that I come again to my father's house 
 hi peace ; then shall the Lord be my God.' " 
 
 " O, Alice," she cried, " he is my God now ; I 
 will not repeat the vow of Jacob. I would rather 
 say to Satan, with the three Hebrew worthies, 
 ' Our God whom we serve is able to deliver us, 
 and he will deliver us. But if not, be it known 
 unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy
 
 TENSIE WALTON. 133 
 
 gods, nor worship the golden image which thou 
 hast set up.' Jacob promised a tenth of all to God. 
 O, Alice, surely he has right to all we have, since he 
 bought us with a price and such a price ! " she 
 said with tears. " Is not all we can do, at best 
 but reasonable service ? " 
 
 About a week after this conversation with Miss 
 Grey, Yensie presented herself for baptism ; and 
 one pleasant Sabbath morning was baptized in the 
 stream which wound its way through her uncle's 
 farm. 
 
 There were few dry eyes among the spectators 
 that had gathered that early hour on the bank. 
 
 Herbert Gardenell, hearing of the service, had 
 induced Harry to attend it with him, hoping the 
 beauty of the scene might inspire him with long 
 ings for a better life, as it has along the ages, so 
 often impressed hearts far from God. 
 
 Yensie was the last of three to receive the ordi 
 nance. As the brown head was lifted out of the 
 waters, the morning sun, until then partly ob 
 scured by clouds, threw its dazzling rays about it, 
 turning each water drop to a sparkling gem, and 
 revealing a face so radiant with heavenly joy and 
 peace as to thrill every beholder. Unconsciously, 
 she joined her pure, clear voice in singing the 
 hymn raised on the shore as, both hands clasped in 
 those of her pastor, she moved slowly forward. 
 
 Herbert Gardenell felt his heart strangely
 
 134 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 moved. Great tears welled to his eyes and over 
 his cheeks, and instinctively he turned to see 
 what impression this scene was making on hi* 
 friend. 
 
 But Harry was gone. He had borne all he 
 could ; he felt that another moment beneath those 
 influences would have been too much for his 
 worldly resolutions, and he had hurried away, ere, 
 as he expressed it, "he had made a fool of him 
 self." 
 
 Long after every one else had left the spot, the 
 young student still lingered ; a thousand emotions 
 struggling within him. And only the church bell 
 at last drew him from the place. If there was no 
 new light in his eyes as he watched a certain face 
 in the choir that morning, it was not because no 
 new interest had possession of his heart ; and 
 almost naturally he waited until after Sabbath- 
 school and walked with Yensie as far as their paths 
 were one. 
 
 Again, after communion service that afternoon, 
 he found himself beside her, and after parting 
 with her at the gate, his eyes still followed her 
 slight form as long as it remained in view, and lin 
 gered over the point where it disappeared. He 
 sighed as he turned up towards the house and 
 smiled even as he sighed, and his heart echoed 
 both sigh and smile.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " Her reasons are as two grains of wheat, hid in two bushels 
 of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when 
 you have found them, they are not worth the search." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 R. CAMPBELL, I very much admire 
 your friend, Mr. Gardenell," said sim 
 pering Miss Grant, one morning, turning 
 her peculiar, little grey eyes, with what Harry 
 called her "killing look," up to his face. 
 
 They were standing on the verandah alone. 
 Amy Grant was of average face and form, consid 
 erably beyond her teens ; and if Harry is to be 
 believed, very much afraid of becoming an old 
 maid. 
 
 She had tried every art to captivate that young 
 gentleman the season before, but to no purpose. 
 135
 
 136 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 And according to his account told a friend of hers, 
 as a great secret, that though Mr. Campbell was 
 so good-looking, he didn't appear to have any 
 heart, and she should insist on love in the gentle 
 man she should marry, and therefore had set her 
 self for better game. 
 
 Harry had been waiting with great interest to 
 see where she would begin operations again, and 
 found, much to his amusement, that she had lighted 
 on his unsuspicious friend. He was always ready 
 for anything that promised fun, and received her 
 first confidential advances warmly. 
 
 "Shows your good sense, Miss Grant,'' he re 
 plied to her remark. 
 
 " He appears to be a gentleman," she said, hesi 
 tatingly; and Harry thought of that shabby suit. 
 He answered emphatically, however, with one word : 
 
 "Thoroughbred." 
 
 "And he is a Christian. I think it is very com 
 mendable in a young man to be a Christian," she 
 went on. 
 
 " Exceedingly so, and in a young lady also, as 
 to that matter," returned Harry. 
 
 " Yes ; but I have always thought gentlemen 
 needed religion more, and became it better," she 
 said. " You know a woman is rather the reflection 
 of her husband, or should be, and does not need 
 to make much of a stand before she has one. It 
 makes so much trouble sometimes, in families, for 
 young ladies to settle these things for themselves.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 137 
 
 It is so much better to wait and do as may seem 
 best after marriage, because, you know, we are 
 commanded to obey." 
 
 Truly this was a novel way of putting things, 
 and Harry laughed as he imagined what Yensie 
 Walton would say to this sort of reasoning. 
 
 " Really, Miss Grant," he said " you are quite a 
 theologian in your own way, and ought to be quite 
 a help to a young and ignorant minister. Now, I 
 never thought of the thing in this way before. I 
 confess to have had rather a weakness in favor of 
 Christian women have always thought I should 
 prefer one myself. Perhaps, however, young 
 women who do profess religion are particular only 
 to marry Christians." 
 
 " Sometimes there is no choice," said the lady. 
 " One can never be sure whether a Christian or 
 unchristian man will propose to her." 
 
 " And it would never do to say noj for fear of 
 becoming an old maid," laughed Harry. " I begin 
 to see your meaning, Miss Amy. You think a 
 woman has no choice in the matter. Pardon me, 
 but I have seen a few who would run all the risks 
 of single-blessedness rather than marry a man 
 who was not entirely agreeable to them." 
 
 " Oh, I should feel so myself under some cir 
 cumstances, Mr. Campbell, but we ought not to be 
 selfish ; we should consider the feelings of others, 
 as well as our own. I always believed in consid 
 ering both sides of a question."
 
 138 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Harry, who never supposed 
 Miss Grant guilty of such a virtue as considera 
 tion, judging from her pursuit of himself. "In 
 deed, but really Miss Amy, what has this to do 
 with Gardenell ? I fear he would be just the one 
 to insist that the lady of his choice be a professed 
 Christian before marriage." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " said the young lady earn 
 estly. " Well, Mr. Campbell, I always admired 
 religion, and do think conscience a great thing for 
 any man to possess now don't you ? " 
 
 " Why, yes," replied the young man, glancing 
 mischievously into the face beside him. "Well, 
 yes ; when it accompanies a well-knit frame, 
 gigantic intellect and elegant manners. But I 
 think even you will admit it isn't just as valuable, 
 thafr is, outside of its possessor, when done up in a 
 poor, disfigured, misshapen, old rheumatic like 
 Uncle Jeff Barkley." 
 
 " O, Mr. Harry, what a funny fellow you are," 
 was the response. " But is he very poor I heard 
 he was ? " 
 
 " Who, old Uncle Barkley ? Undoubtedly," re 
 plied Harry, innocently." 
 
 " N.ow, you knew I didn't mean him, you 
 naughty fellow," said the lady, with prettily as 
 sumed vexation. " As if I didn't know all about 
 poor old Uncle Jeff." 
 
 " Oh, you mean Gard ! " pretending great aston 
 ishment. " What, six good feet of flesh and bone,
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 13P 
 
 a splendid intellect, well-stored ; youth and health 
 and culture ; I'm amazed at the question ! No 
 man can be poor with such possessions." 
 
 " You know I didn't mean that, either, naughty 
 man," continued the lady. " Is he worth much 
 money ? It is such a pity that a splendid young 
 man like him should be cramped for means." 
 
 Miss Grant was the possessor of some hundreds 
 of thousands ; she evidently wished to share it 
 with this young man, should he give her a legiti 
 mate right to do so. 
 
 " Oh, Gard is anything but poor," said Harry. 
 " I've often heard him speak of his Father's bound 
 less wealth." 
 
 " Why, I should never suppose it. Why, then, 
 does he wear " and Miss Amy stopped and 
 pinked. That unfortunate suit, Harry thought ; 
 but went on, in no way daunted. 
 
 " His clothes, you mean ? His Father has 
 enough, and is by no means stingy, I believe, but 
 he likes to make his children independent and self- 
 reliant, and above the pride that fears to wear 
 shabby clothes. Now I rather think Gard prides 
 himself upon his independence in appearing here 
 with that on. I remonstrated with him, but in 
 vain. It was not bad, he said ; and he is very ob 
 stinate." 
 
 " Well, it is not bad, and fits remarkably, but I 
 shouldn't suppose he'd prefer to wear it. Is hia 
 father alive?"
 
 140 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " Oh, yes, he'll never die," said Harry. 
 
 " Well, of course Mr. Gardenell is of age ? " she 
 questioned. 
 
 " Just about. Not as old as I am by two years. 
 The trouble is, his possessions mostly lie in another 
 country one that you and I don't know much 
 about and he won't get much of it until he gets 
 there; or so I've heard him say." 
 
 " Why, I should think he might have it settled 
 for him by a lawyer," said Miss Amy, much in 
 terested. 
 
 " It isn't possible. Can't be done by proxy. 
 Gard is the soul of honor, and I've heard him say 
 so ; and the truth is, he's so anxious to help poor 
 sinners in this part of the universe, that he is 
 willing to postpone indefinitely the final settle 
 ment." 
 
 Now, it must be confessed, at this point Miss 
 Grant began to imagine herself accompanying 
 Herbert on his journey towards his inheritance 
 without a single idea of what Harry meant ; and 
 that young gentleman proceeded : 
 
 "But as I said before, Miss Amy, any young 
 lady who wishes to get into the graces of Garde 
 nell must mind her P's and Q's. He'll stand no 
 flouncing, curling and powdering, I assure you ; 
 he detests all such business." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Campbell, I thought every gentle 
 man liked to see ladies look well," said Amy in 
 surprise.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 141 
 
 "Not he," replied the young man, enjoying her 
 evident perplexity. " He'd rather have a woman 
 homely as a hedge-fence, than made over by the 
 latest Parisian fashion-plate. His wife will look 
 plain, dress plain, or else she'll swallow more St. 
 Paul than will be at all agreeable." 
 
 " You surprise me ! But then," evidently de 
 termined to find excuse for Herbert's peculiarities, 
 " but then, I never studied this subject, and am 
 not expected to know. If the Bible forbids these 
 things, Mr. Gardenell is right in opposing them, 
 and I admire his consistency." 
 
 Soon after, Harry got rid of the lady. But it 
 was all he could do to control his countenance 
 when she appeared at the late dinner-table, her 
 hair drawn straight back and fastened simply be 
 hind her head ; her usually pink and white face 
 decidedly sallow, and arrayed in the plainest dress 
 she owned, not wholly free from ruffles, but en 
 tirely devoid of ornaments. 
 
 Young Campbell saw that right after dinner 
 she fastened herself on his friend, and smiled 
 when passing them he heard her say : 
 
 " You think every young lady should be a pro 
 fessor of religion, I believe, Mr. Gardenell ? " 
 
 " Yes, if a possessor," Herbert replied. 
 
 "And what should you say one must do to 
 possess, Mr. Gardenell; dress plainly, and deny 
 one's self? " 
 
 " I should rather say, believe on the Lord Jesus
 
 142 YENSDB WALTON. 
 
 Christ," was the reply. "Externals are an after 
 consideration. 'The kingdom of God,' said the 
 Master, ' cometh not with observation,' but, 'is 
 within you.' I believe, nevertheless, when it is 
 within it will work out and make itself seen even 
 in our dress and deportment." 
 
 " I understand," went on this very astute lady, 
 "that you consider ruffles, and curls, and red 
 cheeks sinful." 
 
 "I have seen my mother wear ruffles, and she 
 has red cheeks, even to-day. I always considered 
 her the excellent woman," replied Herbert, 
 smiling. 
 
 " She never used anything to make them red ? " 
 questioned Amy. 
 
 " Nothing but fresh air and cold water ; both of 
 which are legitimate, I believe," the young man 
 answered. 
 
 " But you consider it wrong," pressed the lady, 
 "that is, you believe the Bible teaches it to be 
 wrong, to wear fine clothes, and put up the hair in 
 curl papers, and resort to many of these little 
 things used by ladies to make themselves look 
 well." 
 
 k ' Really," said Herbert, smiling, " I have had 
 such limited acquaintance with ladies, I have 
 never given the subject thought. I should judge, 
 myself, it would be best not to resort to the artifi 
 cial unless absolutely necessary to cover some 
 glaring defect. I think I should justify a young
 
 Miss Grant and Mr. Gardenell. Page 142.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 143 
 
 lady who had lost all her hair, in wearing a wig. 
 If she had any, it seems to me the preferable way 
 to wear it would be as God gave it. Now," plac 
 ing his hand on his straight locks, " I never dream 
 of getting my hair curled so as to compete with 
 friend Harry. But I confess to great ignorance 
 upon the subject, and shall not attempt to quote 
 Scripture. I am sure of one thing, however, Miss 
 Grant no person is obliged to act according to 
 another person's convictions, or under another's 
 conscience, I might say. If the heart is right, 
 these things will all be settled. If seeking con 
 tinual guidance from God, we cannot walk far 
 astray; and to be is always better than to seem. 
 
 Miss Grant was nonplussed : but Gardenell had 
 his suspicions as to the instigator of this conversa 
 tion, and was quite ready for Harry when, a little 
 after, he joined him in the garden. 
 
 "Gard, I beseech you, be merciful," cried the 
 young man, raising his hands. " I see retribution 
 in your eye. I plead guilty, but would advance 
 in palliation of my fault, youth and extreme sensi 
 tiveness to the wiles of young ladies, generally, 
 and Miss Grant in particular. I assure you she 
 set the snaje for my unguarded feet. You have 
 made a conquest, old fellow, let me congratulate 
 } r ou." And the wild boy seized his friend's hand, 
 shaking and squeezing it unmercifully. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Herbert, laughing ; " but you 
 put me in a queer place, I admit."
 
 144 YENSEE WALTON". 
 
 " But you were quite equal to the occasion, I'll 
 be bound. I studied your countenance in vain for 
 any signs of confusion. I didn't know but the 
 lady would propose to you out and out, to save 
 you the trouble, as you are young and diffident. I 
 was prepared to rush in and save you from such a 
 fate at all hazards. Really, Gard, what in the 
 world would you do if she did ? " 
 
 " Refuse her, of course." was the decided an 
 swer. But Harry, at the bare thought of his 
 friend so situated, went off into a fit of uncon 
 trollable laughter. 
 
 It was impossible not to laugh with him, as he 
 began to picture such a scene, mimicing first Her 
 bert and then Miss Grant. 
 
 " I see you," he said, "as cool as a cucumber just 
 from the ice-chest, saying in a tone of deepest 
 commiseration, ' Miss Grant, I am very sorry to 
 distress you ; but it really is impossible for me to 
 do you this small favor.' And then her, 'I'm sure 
 I didn't mean anything, Mr. Gardenell, but I 
 thought I might help you to be useful,' bless 
 us ! " and Hurry leaned against a tree, shaking 
 with mirth, in which his friend joined heartily. 
 
 " Harry, when will you learn to be sensible ? " 
 said Herbert, at length. " I declare, I shall be 
 afraid to venture within ten feet of the young 
 lady again." 
 
 " Afraid ! " said Campbell, heroically. " You 
 should have seen me work it last year just saved
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 145 
 
 myself and no more, a half-dozen times. Bless 
 me, didn't she hold on though? Had no idea 
 then you'd be the next victim. I tell you she is 
 getting desperate must be, after the appearance 
 she put in at the dinner-table. I really thought 
 Gard, I should have to leave the room. My 
 dear mother looked exceedingly shocked and 
 shook her head at me. Miss Amy has her good 
 points ; you know she's worth some hundreds of 
 thousands. Puss was about as amused as I was ; 
 didn't she look like a scare-crow now ? " 
 
 " Who, Miss Grant ? " asked Herbert. " It did 
 strike me she looked peculiar. I only glanced at 
 her, but saw there was some difference, and 
 noticed a general agitation on the part of the 
 ladies." 
 
 " All on your account, my friend," said Harry, 
 in mock solemnity. "Not a particle of lily or 
 pink. She reminded me of a wilted dandelion- 
 blossom or a saffron-bag. Her hair drawn straight 
 back. What on earth do you suppose the others 
 thought of the performance. I never was so im 
 pressed with my own ability ; Uncle Winthrop 
 was utterly confounded. He looked at me, I 
 looked at my fork, and mother looked at us both. 
 I believe she thought I was at the bottom of the 
 mischief as usual. Well, it is a comfort some 
 times just to be sure what is natural and what is 
 not. There's nothing like dropping seeds of truth 
 while the heart is tender works like magic ; and
 
 146 YENSEG WALTON. 
 
 although Miss Amy's tenderness all lay in the di 
 rection of the earth, earthy," with a comical look 
 at Herbert, " yet I did my duty, and feel better as 
 old Aunt Betsy would say. I did not think it 
 right to allow this lady to enter the untried future 
 without giving her some idea of what a minister's 
 wife should be ; without warning her faithfully of 
 the coming man's peculiar notions. I begin to en 
 tertain hopes that my feeble endeavors were not 
 wholly in vain from this first-fruit. Would not 
 you, my friend, encourage me expecting perma 
 nent reform if not conversion." 
 
 " O Harry ! Harry ! " said Herbert shaking his 
 head ; " when will you learn not to jest with sol 
 emn things ? When you feel again like encour 
 aging 'Miss Grant in an attack on me, remember 
 the golden rule." 
 
 " I will try to remember," said the wild boy, 
 with assumed gravity ; " but I know you would be 
 extremely edified to hear Miss Grant define a 
 lady's position, religiously, before and after mar 
 riage. I could but think how yonder young 
 lady," waving his hand toward Valley Farm," would 
 flash up at the mere suggestion of some loving 
 husband to adjust these little religious opinions for 
 her." 
 
 Herbert did riot reply to this. He was silent 
 for a few moments, then passing his arm through 
 his friend's he said, quietly : 
 
 "Since you have referred to Miss Walton,
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 147 
 
 i 
 
 allow me to say right here, and I know I 
 may without fear of giving offence, that you are 
 very apt to speak too freely of a young lady so lit 
 tle known to you. Be careful to speak less fre 
 quently and familiarly of one who has given you 
 no right to do so. It is an injustice I feel she 
 would resent." 
 
 " And one which I see you do already resent," 
 said Harry, laughing into the flushing face of his 
 friend. " Gurd, I have never meant anything by 
 it, as Miss Grant would say, for I have an uncom 
 mon respect for Violet's Ennie." 
 
 " I felt sure you had not thought of it as I 
 had," responded Herbert. " But, Harry, I have a 
 feeling of tenderness, protectiveness I might say, 
 for all young womanhood ; a tendency to glorify 
 and exalt it which revolts from any undue famil 
 iarity. I never had a sister I wish I had. I 
 think I would prize one as some brothers do not ; 
 but I have a mother and such a mother, per 
 haps the reverence with which I regard her has 
 communicated itself to all women." 
 
 " And this is why you speak for Yensie Wal 
 ton ? Be candid with yourself, my friend, and 
 search your heart. Do you feel exceedingly sorry 
 that this particular girl is not your sister ? Honor 
 bright, now aren't you just a little bit glad just 
 a little, that she isn't," and Harry poked his friend 
 facetiously. 
 
 " Why must you be so absurd, Harry ? " said
 
 148 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Herbert. " She is nothing but a little school-girl.'* 
 
 " And will never be anything else," said Harry, 
 though my school-boy friend expects to develop 
 somewhat. Grandpa Gardenell, will you please 
 inform me how many years of this earthly pil 
 grimage you have passed ? " 
 
 " Harry, I am in earnest," said Herbert. 
 
 " I see you are, and I give you my word ' this 
 rock shall fly ' " and Harry sent a small stone 
 whizzing through the air " sooner than I shall 
 forget the counsels of my aged friend." 
 
 His tone was exceedingly ludicrous ; but Her 
 bert took no notice of this, as he continued, ear 
 nestly : 
 
 "How would you like to hear Mose Tapley 
 speaking familiarly of Nettie, were she a few years 
 older, because he had chanced to meet and speak 
 with her?" 
 
 "Moses Tapley was a perfumed, eye-glassed 
 dandy, known at school as very obnoxious to 
 Campbell," and at this question the young man 
 doubled up his fists, ominously. 
 
 " I'd " but he did not finish the sentence. 
 " I'm not such a puppy as that, Gard. But you're 
 right, old fellow, and in sober earnest I thank you, 
 and like you better for what you have said. I do 
 not wonder my poor mother trembles for her reck 
 less boy. To be honest with you, half of what I 
 have said of the young lady was said expressly to 
 disconcert my poor mamma a fact, if not ex-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 149 
 
 actly creditable. I give my tongue too much lib 
 erty, I am aware. My love of fun is continually 
 leading me into mischief. Now T must go ; but 
 borrow no further anxiety on that score, for as 
 Irish Torn said to me the day I scolded him for 
 neglecting my horse : ' Be aisy, me frind, on that 
 hid ; for it's me as'll give ye no further rason for 
 thruble," and Campbell started for the house, fol 
 lowed by the loving eyes of his friend.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "'Tis lovely as an angel's dream, 
 Her golden locks with sunlight all agleam, 
 Her holy eyes with heaven in their beam." 
 
 , -_, ARDENELL," said Harry, one bright morn 
 ing, " Will you go to the red farm-house 
 with me?" 
 
 " What for, pray ? " questioned his friend. I 
 did not know you were acquainted there." 
 
 " Do you suppose I have been wasting my pre 
 cious time while you and Uncle Winthrop have 
 been improving yours in fishing ? Not a bit of 
 it," laughed Harry, " I have been to the farm 
 house and secured a footing, if I do not mistake. 
 You see, Puss was not to be satisfied with an} r - 
 thing short of acquaintance with Violet, after 
 hearing my account of her, and like a loving 
 brother, which I am, I escorted her to Valley 
 160
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 151 
 
 Farm. Maude and her Ennie were out, but I 
 found the right side of the old lady and made ar 
 rangements to have Violet here a day. On our 
 road home we met Miss Yensie and her charge. 
 Of course I stopped and let Net have a conversa 
 tion with the little one, which ended in vows of 
 eternal friendship, to be satisfied on Maude's 
 part by the present of a young bantam. To me 
 belongs the honor of escorting thither the young 
 lady and banty, which honor I am willing to 
 share with my friend and class-mate," and Harry 
 bowed low. 
 
 " Net will ride over on Selim ; you can ride 
 King John. I must take the pony-carriage for the 
 small fry. My lady mother informs me this is as 
 favorable an occasion as any for the advent of 
 this farm-child, over whose acquaintance with 
 Puss she is rather dubious. I assured her if 
 Puss ever intended to keep company with angels, 
 she might as well begin now, and I wish you could 
 have seen her shocked face. I know what mother 
 expects ; freckled face, red hands, frowsy hair, 
 etc., etc. Won't I enjoy her surprise ? " said 
 Campbell, laughing. 
 
 The end of this conversation was, that about an 
 hour 'ifter Mrs. Walton looked up from her work, 
 to exclaim : " Well I never, if there ain't young 
 Campbell, ajd his sister and another gentleman. 
 Millie do go auj fix up a little ; you never look 
 fit to see anyone where is Yensie ? " and Aunt
 
 152 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Sarah gave a little touch first to her hair and 
 then her checked apron, as if to smooth imaginary 
 wrinkles, for both these articles were always in 
 right condition to receive company. 
 
 Yensie was in the meadow. As ihey rode lei 
 surely along, Herbert's eyes discovered her, one 
 arm thrown carelessly about the neck of her 
 Uncle's old mare, Janet, her rosy cheek and brown 
 tresses pressed against its grey side, her eyes 
 fixed far off ; she, evidently in dream-land. 
 
 The young man gazed at the picture with quick 
 ening pulse, and did not hear Harry address him 
 just then. " What are you looking at so intentty, 
 Gard ? Oh, I see ; isn't she just a beauty, now ? " 
 
 It was just as the party turned a curve that 
 brought their backs toward her that the maiden's 
 eyes returning from dream-land discovered them. 
 She started, and smiled "Janet you must help 
 me," she said, vaulting lightly to the faithful crea 
 ture's back. And so it happened that just as the 
 party turned into the large gate, she came around 
 the end of the barn. 
 
 Harry's half suppressed whistle discovered her 
 approach to his friend, but before Herbert had 
 time to reach her side, she" had dismounted arjd 
 was standing beside Maude, ready to greet them. 
 
 She stood with bright, flushed face and eyes 
 brilliant and sparkling after her exercise, noting 
 the courtly grace witli which the student helped 
 Nettie from her saddle. The child approached her
 
 YENSIE WALTOF. 153 
 
 with a basket of rare, beautiful flowers in her hand. 
 
 "I picked every one of them myself for the 
 sweet singer," she said, with pretty dignity, and 
 Yensie kissed her cheek while she thanked her, 
 smiling the while at the quaint grace with which 
 the gift had been presented. 
 
 A few moments more and Maude led her little 
 friend to the farm-yard to take her choice of the 
 pet bantam family, which serious business required 
 advice from both the young men and Yensie 
 before satisfactorily settled. Then the young girl 
 conducted the party to the parlor, improved some 
 what since the orphan's first appearance at Valley 
 Farm. 
 
 The maiden was in one of her gayest, brightest 
 moods, and presented quite a new side of her 
 character to the young men. 
 
 " What a witch you must be, Miss Yensie, to get 
 here before us," said Harry. " I caught sight of 
 you in the meadow and began to feel terribly at 
 thought of visiting Valley Farm without a nearer 
 view of your face ; when lo, in the midst of 
 my unpleasant cogitations you appeared ready to 
 greet us." 
 
 " I am sorry that you should have so suffered 
 for a moment, Mr. Campbell," she said mischiev 
 ously. " But I fear if I had known your feelings, 
 I should have remained where I was. Pardon 
 me if that is rude, but really I only thought of 
 Aunt Sarah and her dismay at the arrival of com-
 
 154 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 pany. My field-hours are generally either earlier 
 or later, but I felt just like running wild to-day." 
 
 " And never a thought of me or my feelings ? " 
 queried Harry, lightly. 
 
 " Not the slightest. I really didn't see the pony- 
 carriage at first. I admire horse-back riding, and 
 admit Mr. Gardenell elicited all my attention from 
 the way he rode his horse." 
 
 " You love to ride horse-back, Miss Yensie ? " 
 said Herbert now. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " enthusiastically. " I was a very 
 little child when my father taught me to ride, 
 walking beside my pony. After I came here, I 
 was obliged either to ride Janet bare-back, or 
 Betty, our cow," laughing, "or go without my 
 beloved exercise. As I practised, all my spare mo 
 ments not employed in climbing or flower-hunt 
 ing," with a glance at Harry, " I am quite an 
 expert. Farmer Glines' boy found me one night 
 years ago, seated on Janet back to the horse's 
 head and he told Uncle I was ' wuss than airy 
 circus he had ever hearn tell on.' Uncle John 
 loves to remind me of it yet." 
 
 In the midst of the laughter that followed this 
 recital Mildred appeared, and Yensie excusing her 
 self, led little Maude away to prepare her for her 
 holiday. 
 
 How glad the maiden was that her darling 
 owned this sweet, white dress, obtained indeed 
 against much opposition, by her own persistent
 
 TENSIE WALTON. 155 
 
 efforts. Even Aunt Sarah was glad now, as she 
 saw her child arrayed so simply, and yet tastefully 
 for this occasion. 
 
 The delicate muslin fell in soft folds about her 
 slender, etherial form, her golden hair hung in rich 
 curls about her shoulders, the delicate, earnest face 
 lighted by those resplendent violet eyes, filled now 
 with the light of joyful anticipation. No gay rib 
 bon, no ornament. Her sash was of the same 
 material as her dress, but Harry opened his arms 
 impulsively to her as she entered the parlor, hat in 
 hand ready to go. 
 
 " I believe I was right in declaring you quite 
 an angel," he said as she lifted her face demurely 
 for his kiss ; but she shook her head in indignant 
 surprise as she answered : " No, no, Mr. Harry, 
 angels don't live here," and followed him to the 
 door. 
 
 The wee thing allowed herself to be lifted to 
 the carriage and then insisted that banty be 
 wrapped in a shawl and laid in her lap, for she 
 wouldn't have his feelings hurt for anything by 
 shutting him up in a basket. 
 
 " You know, Mr. Harry, he'd think he was lost, 
 or blind, or sold to some horrid man, and be 
 afraid ; " and the young man with a look half- 
 admiring, half comic, arranged the little fellow to 
 her complete satisfaction, and lifting his hat to the 
 girls at the door, rode away. 
 
 " You precious little baggage," he said, as reach-
 
 156 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 ing the mansion house he threw his reins to the 
 stable-boy, and catching the child up in his arms, 
 bounded into the house in search of his mother. 
 
 " My little mother, are you here ? " he cried, 
 throwing open the door of her sitting-room. " Be 
 hold the farm-child," and he stood the little girl 
 before Mrs. Campbell, the rich blood tinging her 
 alabaster cheeks, her violet eyes peeping timidly 
 up from under their long, curling, golden-brown 
 fringes, at the astonished lady. 
 
 Harry laughed laughed merrily, exultantly, 
 over the unbounded astonishment written on the 
 lady's face. 
 
 " Well, my mother, how is it ; are you ready to 
 admit my ability to choose fitting associates for 
 my sister ? " 
 
 Mrs. Campbell did not answer ; she was smiling 
 into the face of the child, who gazed earnestly into 
 her eyes. 
 
 "This lady is my mother, Violet ; will you not 
 kiss her?" asked Harry, and Mrs. Campbell 
 stooped to meet the ruby lips lifted to hers. Just 
 then, Nettie entering drew Maude away out of 
 the room. 
 
 " Well, mother, how is it ? " asked Harry. 
 
 " I am bewildered my son. She, surely, cannot 
 belong to that coarse, red-haired woman I saw 
 there as I passed one day." 
 
 " I assure you she does. O, democratic mother 
 of mine ! I wonder much at nature's blunder in
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 157 
 
 Betting yon down in America. You have forgot 
 ten that ' God has made of one blood all the na 
 tions ot the earth/ is that Scripture, or Declaration 
 of Independence, I really don't know? Excuse 
 me, madam, I did not intend to quote either when 
 I began." 
 
 " Harry," said his mother, nervously, are there 
 any young ladies over there ?" 
 
 " At Valley Farm, do you mean ? Why, no. I 
 don't know that there are what you would denom 
 inate such. There are a couple of school-girls, not 
 very much older than Puss." 
 
 Puss, who had just come into the room in search 
 of something, here interrupted : 
 
 " O mamma, you know the young girl that sings 
 so beautifully, she lives there. But she isn't a bit 
 stuck up, but plays hide-and-seek with Violet she 
 says so and tells her stories she makes up herself. 
 She's just nice, and I love her." 
 
 " Stuck up ! Nettie, how often must I correct 
 you ?" But the little girl was gone, not caring to 
 hear more, and the lady turned to her son. 
 
 There was an anxious, troubled look in the little 
 woman's eyes, that seemed to amuse the young 
 man, for he laughed as he met it. " Mother dear, 
 what is it? " he said, laying his hand caressingly 
 on her head. "You feel you cannot trust your 
 boy yet, is that it mother ? Come, say what you 
 will, it is a pity if you may not speak freely to 
 your only son."
 
 158 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " I was thinking, Harry," she said, hesitatingly, 
 " that there are ladies enough of your own rank in 
 life here to keep you company, without your tak 
 ing such freaks into your head and running around 
 after girls so much beneath you." 
 
 " My lady mother," replied the young man, a lit 
 tle sarcastically," I did not know before that I had 
 taken any such freak, nevertheless, I thank you for 
 your interest. I know you are sadly distressed by 
 your son's lack of dignity ; he thanks you for your 
 care, and appreciates it. One of these so-called 
 young ladies is but a child just doffing short 
 clothes, and very much impressed with her own 
 importance ; too much so indeed to admit of any 
 body else sharing it with her. The other, who 
 may be classed under the above head, without 
 jostling at all with my preconceived notions of 
 what that word should imply, is so much above 
 these bepowdered, frizzled, upper crust you de 
 nominate my own rank, as to deserve the everlast 
 ing thanks of mankind in general, and your sou in. 
 particular, who pleads guilty to a love of human 
 nature as God made it." And Harry looking 
 down into his mother's face saw a far more troub 
 led and perplexed expression there than when he 
 first began. 
 
 " You precious little woman," he laughed, " here 
 have I been trying to enlighten you as to the 
 position of things with an eye to your immediate 
 relief, and have only succeeded in making you
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 159 
 
 more miserable. Let me assure you, on my honor 
 as a gentleman, that I could not fall in love with 
 article number one if I were hanged for not doing 
 so ; have conscientious scruples against it, as Gard 
 would say. As, to number two, I have no idea of 
 falling in love with her or any other young lady at 
 present. But you should know if I had any such 
 desires in reference to that young lady they would 
 be quite useless as she is hopelessly, or, should I 
 sa} r , hopefully pious, and not at all impressed with 
 the excellencies of your son. Indeed, I rather 
 think she would consider it an impertinence on my 
 part to imagine such a thing. So be at ease on that 
 score, little mother." 
 
 " Harry, what nonsense," said his mother 
 warmly. She could not imagine such a thing as a 
 living woman who would not feel honored by the 
 attentions of her son. " Why can't you be sensi 
 ble when talking to me ? " 
 
 " Upon honor, mother, I thought I was ex 
 tremely so, and expected your commendations 
 therefor. I know no reason for not being more 
 sensible, than that I cannot be. I never was in 
 more sober earnest in my life than when I assured 
 you that Yensie Walton would scorn any advances 
 011 my part. I assure you, she receives me gen 
 erally with a coolness suggestive of zero, and the 
 hauteur of a crowned queen." 
 
 " Then why do you go there ? " was the next 
 very pertinent question.
 
 160 YENSIB 'WALTON. 
 
 " Novelty, novelty, my dear mother. It is a 
 positive luxury to meet one lady who does not 
 find me fascinating," with a curious glance into 
 his mother's face ; " to be trusted on a par with 
 other men, a little below it if anything, is a pleas 
 ant diversion. Are you satisfied ? " 
 
 Her face answered him and he laughed, " Harry, 
 promise me not to go there again." 
 
 " I should like to oblige you, mother, but can't, 
 positive^. Have only got to the place where I 
 feel free to go," answered the young man. 
 
 " Then promise me to go only when Mr. Gard- 
 enell accompanies you." 
 
 " O, mother, have I so utterly forfeited your 
 confidence ? Can you never trust me again ? " and 
 Harry bent his fine eyes with a sad, questioning 
 look on his mother's face. His brow was clouded 
 for a moment, as he walked to the window, but 
 when he came back and stooped to kiss her the 
 old, careless expression had taken its place. 
 
 " I am a sad boy, but you must learn to trust 
 me," he said, decidedly. Then smiling he added 
 almost gravely, " I shall never forget that I am 
 the son of a lady nay, more, a woman ; and lit 
 tle mother, you must never expect to blush for 
 your son again," and he left the room. 
 
 This was altogether a delightful day to little 
 Maude a day with flowers, and birds, and 
 beautiful dolls, such as she had never dreamed of; 
 and the last touch of delight was added when
 
 YENSES WALTON. 161 
 
 Harry joined the children in. eating supper from a 
 tiny baby tea-set in the nursery. 
 
 " It's almost, ' Violet's hour,' " said Maude, 
 touching the young man's arm toward evening. 
 "Ennie, won't know how to get along without me. 
 Please take me home Mr. Harry." 
 
 They were out on the lawn amid the guests, 
 and stooping and opening his arms to her he 
 whispered, " How shall I get on without you ? " 
 
 Maude flung her arms about his neck and nest 
 led her golden head on his shoulder patting his 
 cheek with her tiny hand as she answered, " you 
 know Ennie always had me, and you haven't, so 
 you can get along best, but I love you very 
 much." 
 
 Harry kissed her. "Little Violet," he whis 
 pered, "I wish I was like you, so sweet and pure, 
 and innocent, indeed I do," and his voice trem 
 bled. 
 
 The little hand was in his dark curls now, " I 
 love you very much, and }' - ou are very good to 
 me,'' she said. " Jesus loves you too, I know he 
 does." 
 
 " I wish I felt as sure of that as you seem to 
 be," he said gravely, and looking up met the half- 
 pleased, half-troubled gaze of his mother. 
 
 The ladies were talking of him though he was 
 unconscious of their comments. 
 
 " You never looked so handsome in your life, 
 Mr. Campbell," said Miss Simpson now as he ap-
 
 1C2 YBNSIB WALTON. 
 
 proaclied Maude still nestled to his breast. 
 
 " Thank you," he answered, laughing, " mother 
 dear," stooping until his dark curls swept the 
 lady's face, "mother dear, don't worry. I never 
 feel myself so much a sinner, or wish myself so 
 much a saint, as when these little arms cling to my 
 neek. I wish she was my very own, I do ; " arid 
 lifting himself suddenly, he swung the little one 
 up to his shoulder and calling to Nettie to catch 
 him darted down the path. 
 
 What a merry race they had. Nettie called 
 Herbert to help her. Several others joined, and 
 soon the lawn resounded with their mirth, Mrs. 
 Campbell looking on half-vexed, half-admiring 
 as her handsome boy darted hither and thither 
 eluding just at the right moment the grasp of his 
 laughing pursuers. 
 
 " There, I'm tired," at last cried the young man, 
 depositing the little lady on the seat beside his 
 mother. And stretching himself on the grass he 
 rested his head in her lap looking up into her vio 
 let eyes. 
 
 " Mother is that heaven ? " he asked ; but it was 
 Herbert's voice which answered him. " Not 
 heaven but heavenly, Harry," and he added in 
 Maude's own words that morning, " Angels do not 
 live here." 
 
 A silence fell on the group for a little, then 
 Harry caught Maude's wistful eyes. 
 
 " Yes, Violet," he said, answering their question-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 163 
 
 ing, " I did not mean to disregard your wish, only 
 to postpone it a little, I do not have you often." 
 Then rising, with a comical glance at his mother, 
 he added, " now I will take you home to Ennie. 
 Puss, go get me a shawl please, the air is growing 
 diimp, and we must be careful of this baby. You 
 see I'm thinking of your advice Gard, who knows, 
 I may take to blue pills and arsenic yet." 
 
 When the carriage was ready, Mrs. Campbell's 
 own hands wrapped up the little one, her lips 
 kissed the white brow, but she was careful that 
 Nettie should ride over with them.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 1 1 gazed upon a youthful face, 
 Radiant with intellectual grace, 
 I saw one dark and sparkling eye, 
 Shrink even as my glance came by." 
 
 IME passed rapidly, August was gone, 
 September opened. 
 
 j n one wa y or another, Herbert had con 
 trived to see much of the maiden who interested 
 him so strangely. 
 
 He began to know which afternoons she gener 
 ally visited Miss Grey, and she was very sure to 
 meet him just as she turned the lane which led 
 the other side of the mansion house or farther on 
 where the two roads met. Then, too, his business 
 in the village delayed him about as long as her 
 visit and they walked home together. 
 
 All this the young girl supposed to be purely 
 accidental, and without much thought as to why, 
 164
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 165 
 
 she began to feel disappointed if she did not meet 
 him on her road to and from Miss Grey's. 
 
 The clouded skies, the flowery paths, the sing 
 ing birds, all gave them food for conversation, and 
 they began to know each other's tastes, likenesses 
 and differences on many subjects. They did not 
 think just alike on many things and yet their very 
 differences drew them together, spicing their con 
 versation and carrying them further to sea, and 
 therefore into larger view of each other. 
 
 Herbert unmistakably found Yensie a delight 
 ful companion, and Yensie grew profoundly im 
 pressed with the capability, heart and brain, of the 
 young student. Harry, no doubt, would have 
 called many of their talks very dry and rallied his 
 friend about sermonizing to young ladies, but nei 
 ther of the two ever dreamed of sermons, though 
 they did find themselves sometimes dreaming of 
 each other. 
 
 Yensie was almost shy in the presence of the 
 young man, blushing rosily at his slightest glance, 
 veiling her eyes as if- she feared to meet it ; but it 
 did not trouble Herbert particularly, that she 
 spoke, more lightly or freely with his friend, and 
 met his glance fearlessly. Indeed, he began to 
 relish the half-confusion of her face when she 
 found him watching her, and to smile quite as 
 roguishly as Harry's self over her blushes. 
 
 Several times he had ventured to the farm-house 
 with some rare wild-flower he had heard her name,
 
 166 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 and lingered a little with her over her flower-bed 
 telling her of his mother's garden, or describing 
 some plant with which she was not acquainted 
 though others of its gems were found in her little 
 plot. Once on coming thus he found her arrayed 
 for a walk and together they had spent the entire 
 afternoon rambling. 
 
 That day he told her of his return to school, 
 shortly, and watched to see how she would receive 
 the news. He would have been disappointed if 
 she had made any wild lamentation or said she 
 was "very, very sorry," but he was not disap 
 pointed in the little start she gave or the quick 
 glance she shot out from her eyes into his face. 
 
 Her first words were so like her, he smiled. 
 "You will be so glad Mr. Gardenell to begin 
 study again. I know you must be anxious to 
 commence your life-work." 
 
 They were standing at the gate, she about to go 
 in, as this was said. " Yes," he replied, " I have a 
 blessed work ahead of me. I shall study better 
 Miss Yensie, if I know you are praying for me." I 
 wonder if he had an object in securing a place in 
 her prayers, how we always love those for whom 
 we pray ; how we doubly love those dear before 
 when they are sharers of our hours with God. 
 
 A few days more, and Herbert was gone. Then 
 all Wynn took on sackcloth unaccountably to the 
 maiden, and she discovered the birds sang less 
 sweetly, and the walk to Alice Grey's grew
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 167 
 
 longer, and life was strangely dull for a while. 
 
 After Herbert's departure, Harry came to the 
 farm-house oftener. First one reason and then 
 another he found to bring him there, and always 
 an unanswerable one. 
 
 Just now Uncle Robinson was to have a large 
 party from the city, and needed a supply of black 
 berries and as none he had seen equalled Mr. Wal 
 ton's, he had sent him to secure a lot. Aunt 
 Sarah was radiant with delight. The blackberries 
 were uncommon and she readily consented to sup 
 ply them, and then of course Harry came over to 
 help the girls pick them, and Yensie treated him 
 very coolly while Miss Mildred praised the dexter 
 ity and rapidity with which he worked. 
 
 There had been a battle fought at Vajley Farm 
 about Yensie's going to school that winter, for 
 Uncle John had been slow to yield to her entreat 
 ies, to wait until spring before beginning again. 
 
 " Are you sick, Yensie ? " he asked kindly ; but 
 she answered frankly, " I was never better." 
 
 " Then I don't understand it ; you always were 
 anxious to learn. I should like you to get all you 
 want for your own sake." 
 
 " I never shall sir," was the reply. " Never in 
 this world." 
 
 " Well, you know what I mean," he answered, 
 good-naturedly. " I should feel better to know I 
 had done as I agreed to by you, before it might be 
 impossible."
 
 168 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Yensie looked up quickly into his face. " Uncle 
 John, I can't go ;" and Uncle John was vexed. 
 
 " I hope, Yensie, it isn't any notion you have of 
 that young Campbell ? He's a nice fellow, but 
 you are very young and " but Yensie stopped 
 him, indignantly. 
 
 " You know better ! " she said imperiously. 
 " What is Harry Campbell to me ? No, uncle, if 
 you must know, I must stay with Maude while she 
 is here." 
 
 " Why, girl, what do you mean," cried the start 
 led man. " Maude ain't sick, is she ? " 
 
 " She is tired all the time," said the girl, eva 
 sively. 
 
 " She's growing," said Mr. Walton. 
 
 " Yes, heavenward," Yensie replied tears spring 
 ing to her eyes. " I've talked to Aunt Sarah in 
 vain, and now you can't see anything uncommon 
 about her. But I can. She will not be here next 
 spring ; she knows it and I know it," and here 
 Yensie began to sob quietly. 
 
 "'Tut, tut, I won't believe it. You are nervous 
 Yensie." 
 
 " Perhaps I am ; we will see," she replied, dry 
 ing her eyes, " but I shall not go to school this 
 winter if I never go again ; " and her uncle said no 
 more. 
 
 But Mr. Walton began to watch Violet and he 
 feared his niece was right. He noticed that she 
 played less, wanted to lay down more, was found
 
 YENSFR WALTON. 169 
 
 often lying on the lounge with a book, something 
 unusual, and .he spoke to his wife. 
 
 " You're just like Yensie, always imagining 
 something. I'm an old nurse and used to sickness 
 and see no cause to worry. A mother will see if 
 anybody." But though she thus spoke, Mrs. Wal 
 ton grew more careful, and began to dose the 
 child with medicines having untold virtues, all 
 concocted by her own hand, much to little Violet's 
 distress, for she could not bear those mixtures 
 though she took them unmurmuringly. 
 
 Some days she seemed much better, and her 
 father began to hope, but Yensie never. Way 
 down in her heart was the settled conviction that 
 God had called for her darling, and though she 
 put her aching heart one side and played and sang 
 with the child as usual, there were hours when 
 alone with God she struggled to be reconciled and 
 say from out the deepest depths of her heart, 
 " Thy will be done." 
 
 Alice Grey had resumed her teaching and Yensie 
 spent two hours a week with her reviewing old 
 lessons. With Mr. Goodale she studied Greek. 
 In these dear friends she found her great delight, for 
 somehow lately Aunt Sally had grown more peev 
 ish. Whether anxiety for Maude made her more 
 exacting, or whether she feared Yensie might 
 stand in Mildred's light in regard to Harry Camp 
 bell, was not clear ; but one thing was certain, she 
 was exceedingly hard to live with, and Yensie
 
 170 YENSLE WALTON 
 
 found herself answering her sometimes very much 
 after the olden fashion. 
 
 It seemed so ridiculous to her that Mrs. Walton 
 should dream that Harry sought Milly ; and so ex 
 tremely indelicate to speak of it to her daughter, 
 little child as she was. But Mildred was large of 
 her age, " forward," as her mother too truly 
 expressed it, and Sarah Walton was very anxious 
 she should settle well. All her maternal love and 
 pride seemed centered in this child, and she talked 
 with her of her prospects (which meant marrying 
 a fortune) as we hope few mothers would dare 
 to do. 
 
 Yensie loved music and music loved her, and 
 seemed to have taken up a dwelling-place within 
 her. She was conscious of great thoughts and 
 impulses stirring within her soul, and they voiced 
 themselves somehow in this way. 
 
 Often in her solitary hours, or hours spent with 
 Violet, these feelings found expression in strains 
 wild, lofty, sublime, or tender as her mood might 
 be. Strains which stirred the soul of her single 
 auditor sometimes with real fear and shrinking, 
 from that with which she had no sympathy, at 
 other times causing her to nestle still closer to the 
 loving heart of her cousin, looking up with that 
 strange, shadowy light in her eyes which Yensie 
 had learned to dread. 
 
 At these times Yensie improvised words to
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 171 
 
 express the thought thus struggling for utterance, 
 and "Violet's hour," as they called Maude's bed 
 time, the hour between day and night, grew to be 
 the best prized time that all the weeks and months 
 brought her. 
 
 Somehow the gorgeous, crimson sunset, the soft- 
 tinted, fleecy-clouded, tender twilight, opened to 
 the maiden the very gates of heaven ; and then 
 she caught glimpses of the inner glory which 
 moved the profoundest depths of her soul. She 
 learned to linger on the border line between the 
 day well known, because just past, and the coming 
 evening with its untold history, somewhat as we 
 halt before death, the border line between this 
 world we know so well, and that as real, yet un 
 known, unseen Somewhere to which we all are 
 hastening. 
 
 On one of these occasions when Yensie had 
 sung hymn after hymn to the white-robed listener 
 oil her lap, she wandered into the mist of her 
 own musings, as if that which she had sung sug 
 gested to her a greater something she could not 
 voice. 
 
 Suddenly she began to sing again, suiting the 
 words and music, and Violet with earnest, uplifted 
 eyes crept closer to her bosom, not fully understand 
 ing, yet awed and raptured with the brooding ten 
 derness, and longing unutterable in voice and face.
 
 172 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 YENSIE'S SONG. 
 
 I cannot sing the song I would, 
 
 It falters on my tongue, 
 I lose its rapturous numbers 
 
 Ere its key-note is begun. 
 My spirit pants for utterance, 
 
 It cannot, dare not try, 
 Earth's language is too feeble 
 
 To express soul minstrelsy. 
 
 Eternity ! Eternity ! 
 
 Perhaps thy voice will break 
 The silence brooding o'er the soul, 
 
 And bid her songs awake. 
 Dumb spirit-tongue then loosened, 
 
 A God-taught speech its own, 
 Will swell its earth-born soul-songu 
 
 First at the Father's throne. 
 
 Till then, dumb soul, be quiet, 
 
 Clay, clogs thy rapid rate, 
 Until the voice divinest 
 
 Shall bid to death's lone gate; 
 Then shout death robs not spirit! 
 
 " Death only feeds on death," 
 The land-lines which so bind thee, 
 
 Are cut with thy last breath. 
 
 For I I am immortal ! 
 
 Life, death, soul, tell me so; 
 God-breathings do not perish 
 
 In mortal throb and throe. 
 Infinitudes within me 
 
 Are struggling for control, 
 The shadows of Infinity 
 
 Upon my waiting soul.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 173 
 
 " Ennie," whispered the little one. when she 
 had done ; " Ennie, what is it ? " 
 
 " What is what, my darling ? " asked the girl. 
 
 " That you sang ? Where did you get it ? " 
 
 " That. O Violet, it is only a few dream-drop 
 pings," as she bowed her head and kissed the 
 sweet, upturned face. 
 
 " Dream-droppings," mused Maude. " Ennie, do 
 your dreams drop ? " 
 
 " Yes, sometimes, my waking ones do." 
 
 Maude sat quite still thinking awhile, then 
 she said suddenly, "I like the drops Ennie. I 
 don't understand them, but I like them ; the 
 dreams must be very sweet." 
 
 Yensie did not answer at first, she could not, 
 but she gathered the slight form very close to her 
 bosom and by and by she whispered : " You will 
 soon be beyond the dreams into reality, Violet, 
 then think of Ennie, poor Ennie, stumbling along 
 in the dark, while her darling basks in purest sun 
 shine. O, Maude, it is selfish to be sorry! I would 
 be glad, indeed I would, if only the darkness 
 would not quite be midnight, as I fear it will, 
 without you," and the little one felt hot tears 
 falling on her golden curls. 
 
 In a little while Violet whispered, " When the 
 angels come for me, I want you to listen to their 
 song. 5 ' 
 
 Yensie clasped her a little closer while she 
 questioned, " Why love ? "
 
 174 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " So you will know that I am going to better 
 things ; so you can catch a little bit of the glory 
 Ennie." 
 
 "I'll listen, Maude; I'll do anything for you. 
 Anything to learn more of heaven. It will be 
 dearer than ever with you there my darling, and I 
 shall study its wonders as I do those of no other 
 land when once its gates close after you." 
 
 But from that simple request of Violet, rose 
 Yensie's " sweetest dream-drop," as Maude called 
 it. And as they sat together in the lengthen 
 ing shadows, the twilight time so much prized, 
 shortening perceptibly with the advancing season, 
 Yensie sang it often to the little one whose days 
 were also shortening as death's winter hastened 
 on ; drawing near arid still nearer to its glorious 
 sunset, or shall we say sun-rising, the entering in 
 to endless day. 
 
 And one unconsciously, straining her eyes to 
 catch the coming light, let slip and quite forgot 
 the night of pain between ; while the other con 
 sciously entered Gethsemane the garden before 
 death with praying lips and fainting heart, cry 
 ing with Him who trod its paths before, " If it be 
 possible let this cup pass from me," while certain 
 it must be drained. She thanked God for a res 
 pite passed in such a spot 'mid summer bloom and 
 sweetness, yet it could not lull her to forgetful- 
 ness and sleep, as once it did His disciples, she felt 
 so certain of that lonely walk ahead.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Nature held us forth and said, ' Lo ! my thoughts are white.' " 
 
 |NE day Harry made his appearance at 
 the farm-house, ostensibly to take Maude 
 for a ride, in reality to enjoy Yensie's so 
 ciety for awhile, for this girl wonderfully attracted 
 the young man. But Yensie had no idea of going 
 with him. 
 
 It would be very pleasant indeed she admitted 
 to drive out this pleasant afternoon. The sky was 
 cloudless, the equipage and attendant everything 
 that taste most fastidious could require for 
 when is woman ever indifferent to a handsome, 
 well-dressed man but she appreciated the dif 
 ference in their social standing while she dis 
 dained it. 
 
 175
 
 176 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 She had looked on in undisguised contempt at 
 the attempts of her aunt and cousin to catch this 
 young desirable. She would none of it ! He 
 should understand his wealth and position added 
 nothing to his weight in her estimation ; that out 
 of her poverty she felt herself his equal and asked 
 none of his condescension. 
 
 In her indignation she was unjust to Harry, for 
 getting that he had nothing to do with the man 
 oeuvring of her relatives and had given no occasion 
 for it ; while he had always acted as if unaware he 
 stood socially above them. 
 
 If Yensie had intended really to captivate this 
 young gentleman, she could hardly have taken a 
 better way ; for every assumption of pride or cool 
 ness on her part, increased his interest in her, and 
 made him more determined to win her friendship. 
 It was indeed as he had said to his mother, altogether 
 a new experience with him to have a young lady 
 receive him thus, and he pursued the acquaintance 
 with even increasing ardor. 
 
 His disappointment was very apparent this af 
 ternoon. He was angry with himself afterwards 
 to think he pressed her so, and recalled her quiet 
 decision with a mixture of amusement and chagrin 
 that added fuel to the flame beginning to blaze 
 within his soul. He called himself a fool rcp-eat- 
 edly to let such a thing trouble him, yet tho cir 
 cumstance kept recurring to his mind with Any 
 thing but a soothing effect.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 177 
 
 He lifted the troubled little Violet, who had 
 used her persuasive power in vain, to her seat 
 smilingly however, bowed low to Mrs. Walton and 
 Yensie, looking back and waving his hand, and 
 left the girl feeling very much as if she had made 
 a fool of herself after all, and assumed a position 
 very unnecessary as things stood. 
 
 " I don't see, Yensie, why you couldn't have 
 gone with Mr. Campbell just as well as not, seeing 
 Mildred was not here to go," said her aunt. 
 
 And Yensie snapped out, " Oh, you don't in 
 deed, well I shall feel quite as well if you don't ! 
 If you and Milly want to act the fool pray don't 
 ask me to help you ! " and she whisked out of the 
 room in anything but an amiable mood, riot know 
 ing exactly who she ought to be most provoked 
 with, Aunt Sally, herself, or Harry Campbell. 
 
 Meanwhile little demure Maude was studying 
 the handsome, vexed face beside her, wondering if 
 his feelings had been hurt. 
 
 "Mr. Harry," she said at last, timidly, "there 
 are some buful flowers by the road." 
 
 u Why, so there are," said Harry, gayly, for the 
 first time noticing the troubled little face ; " and 
 you'd like to have them, is that it, Puss ? Well, I 
 can get them for you and you may hold the reins, 
 won't that be nice ? You need not be a bit afraid, 
 for Ned is a gentleman, and always behaves his 
 best when little ladies are aboard." So saying the 
 young man placed the reins in the tiny hands,
 
 178 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 and sprang out to gather the road-side bloom. 
 
 In a few minutes he was beside her again, the 
 flowers in her hands and her smiling eyes looking 
 into his. " You are very nice," she said, " and I 
 love you," with great emphasis on the personal 
 pronoun. " Does it make you feel very bad to 
 have Ennie act so ? Do you love her very much, 
 Mr. Harry ? " 
 
 The sweet, earnest sympathy her voice expressed 
 is simply impossible to describe. Harry felt him 
 self moved wonderfully, for while he could not 
 restrain a laugh at its comic side, his eyes filled 
 with tears as he stooped and kissed the sweet lips 
 that had asked so strange a question. 
 
 " You are a funny little Puss," he said. " Who 
 told you I loved Ennie at all ? " 
 
 " But you do, don't, you ? " as if the contrary 
 were impossible. " Oh yes, I know you do every 
 body does that's good ; but I thought perhaps you 
 loved her lots, because you looked so troubled 
 when she said, ' no.' Do you like no, Mr. Harry ? 
 I don't very well, though Ennie says it's a grand 
 word when rightly used, and takes great cour 
 age to utter it sometimes though it is so small. 
 It's one of our little-bigs." 
 
 "Is it ? " said Harry, interested. " What is 
 another? " 
 
 " Be," she answered. " Ennie says to be is 
 greater than to seem." 
 
 " Isn't love one ? " asked Harry.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 179 
 
 " Yes, with I before it. I used to think ' I ' 
 was too small to be a little-big, only one letter you 
 know, but Ennie says it is a numeral not a cipher, 
 because it stands for self, and if put before love, 
 or will, or do, or think, or most anything, gives 
 them a value that they would not have without it, 
 just as the figures before the cipher. You know 
 all about that, don't you, Mr. Harry ? " 
 
 " What ? " questioned Harry. " The figures 
 and ciphers? Oh, yes, but the other I never 
 thought of until now. There are some very bad 
 little-bigs, did you know it, Puss? and some I 
 don't like are never, and did not." 
 
 " They are not always bad, Mr. Harry ; they are 
 good when put before evil or sin. Ennie says we 
 must decide ourselves whether the little-bigs shall 
 mean good or evil to us. And I said, O Ennie, 
 love is always a good little-big, isn't it ? and she 
 only said, 'I love God, I love heaven ; ' and 
 then, 'I love sin, I love whiskey;' and then I 
 knew it wasn't always, and I felt so sorry. Then 
 Ennie said : ' don't look so sad, little Violet, love 
 ought always to be good and bad men ought never 
 to use it, for the Bible says, ' Grod is love ' and if 
 He is love, love is always good, only sometimes it 
 falls on the evil, and sin is so terrible it can soil 
 anything, even love. I didn't quite understand 
 that, Mr. Harry. We were standing in the yard, so 
 Eunie took my hand and dipped it in some muddy 
 water arid she said : ' Is your hand white Maude ? '
 
 180 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 and I said, yes it is, only it's soiled now. And 
 then she said, ' by dipping it in the muddy water 
 the little hand looks dirty, but it is a white hand, 
 and pure water will make it look so again ; and so, 
 darling, love is good, but it falls on evil and looks 
 black, or soiled, but when it touches purity again 
 it shows that its nature is white.' Have I made it 
 plain, Mr. Harry ? " she added with the air of an 
 old instructress. 
 
 " Yes, very. I think you must have an excel 
 lent teacher," he said. 
 
 Her face blossomed into joy. " Oh, yes, Ennie 
 is just the very best Ennie that ever lived, and I 
 think she knows most everything. Don't you?" 
 Then not waiting for an answer, " That is wh}^ I 
 felt so sorry she should hurt you. She wouldn't 
 like to do it, I am sure, if she knew." 
 
 " Set yourself at rest Puss, Ennie hasn't killed 
 me. She is a very proud, naughty girl sometimes, 
 but I don't blame you for loving her, a bit," 
 laughed Harry ; and perhaps it was the laugh that 
 reconciled Miss Violet to any such opinion of her 
 cousin. 
 
 " Now little one," proceeded Harry, seeing you 
 have given me the first lesson of the course, sup 
 pose you take a vacation. See what's here," and 
 out from under the seat he drew a basket of deli 
 cious fruit and placed it beside her. 
 
 The deep blue eyes were raised to his with such 
 evident delight that he felt pleased, though it had
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 181 
 
 been selected expressly for the young lady at 
 home. 
 
 " You are so good, Mr. Harry," she said, smil 
 ing. 
 
 " Thank you. That comes with all the fresh 
 ness of a revelation. Nobody ever made such a 
 mistake before as to call me good," said Harry. 
 
 " But you are, aren't you ? " persisted the child. 
 " I wish I could pay you somehow for all your 
 goodness to me." 
 
 Harry smiled. " You precious child," he said, 
 " Mr. Harry loves to make you happy in these lit 
 tle ways, and does not want pay." 
 
 " I know that," she said, .gratefully, but I want 
 to just the same, Mr. Harry ; " and she nestled 
 close to him and pressed her golden head on his 
 arm. " Mr. Harry," assuming that confidential 
 whisper she always used in speaking of her de 
 parture, " I am going soon to Jesus. I thought if 
 you would like to send some message to him, I'd 
 be so glad to take it. Anything at all Mr. Harry. 
 I suppose He's your friend." 
 
 Harry Campbell was never so moved in his life. 
 Great tears were welling to his eyes and he turned 
 them from the earnest gaze fixed upon him as he 
 strove for mastery over his voice. 
 
 " Don't you love Him, Mr. Harry ? " asked the 
 winning voice, and looking down he met the wist 
 ful questioning of those violet eyes. 
 
 " Oh, you do love him ? " the little, white hand,
 
 182 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 the slender, waxen hand was on his own and he 
 shivered at the touch. 
 
 " I don't know little Violet," he said, trying to 
 speak unconcernedly, " I suppose He's a friend to 
 every miserable scamp that walks this earth. I 
 fear I'm but a poor sinner after all." 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered eagerly, " we are all 
 sinners. Ennie says the only difference is, some 
 are saved sinners and some sinners unsaved. Mr. 
 Harry, are you a saved sinner ? " 
 
 " I fear not." Strange, but this child was prob 
 ing his heart as no other ever had. 
 
 " Then don't you think you had better give me 
 your name to carry to Jesus to put with the saved 
 ones ? If you want me to, I'll tell Him you wish 
 to have it there, shall I ? " 
 
 " Tell Him anything little Maude, anything, 
 only please don't say any more now. I can't bear 
 to lose my little friend so soon," said Harry. 
 Then assuming his usual gayety he added : " You 
 have forgotten your fruit altogether, Violet ; look 
 at this golden pear," and for the rest of their ride 
 he was very careful to keep her from reverting to 
 the same theme. 
 
 On their way homeward they met Mildred. 
 Harry stopped immediately and took her in, with 
 a certain gleam in his eye. 
 
 Did he think this would chagrin the one at 
 home ? possibly ; if so he saw no sign to prove he 
 had succeeded, for Yensie, busy over her flowei-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 183 
 
 bed lifted her regal head without a shimmer of 
 surprise in her flashing eyes, as they drove up the 
 gravelled walk, though she felt a mysterious some 
 thing tugging away in her breast. 
 
 Was it all surprise ? or part jealousy ? She did 
 not answer this, but she concealed every trace of 
 it and went to greet them with a quiet politeness, 
 which only gave way to Violet's impetuous greet 
 ing : " O, Ennie, if you'd only been there." 
 
 Harry departed with Violet's whispered " I'll 
 tell Him," ringing in his ear, her kiss on his cheek 
 and in his eye the picture of that slight, calico-clad 
 figure with shapely head and haughty mien, stand 
 ing where he had left her, a golden-haired fairy 
 clinging to her hand. 
 
 The golden-haired fairy said to the dark-eyed 
 girl as the carriage disappeared and Mildred en 
 tered the house, "I'se most ashamed of you." 
 
 " Why, Maude, what have I done ? " 
 
 " Because you wouldn't go to ride with Mr. 
 Harry when he was so good as to come for you." 
 
 " Why, darling, is that all. That made no par 
 ticular difference to Mr. Campbell ; he found Milly, 
 you know," and out popped the little feeling in 
 her heart and unmistakably declared its nature. 
 
 " Yes it did make a difference," persisted the 
 little lady. " We did not meet Milly until nearly 
 home, and he came for you not for her, for I heard 
 him tell mother that he had come ' for Violet and 
 her Ennie.' "
 
 184 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 "Well, Violet," hesitated Yensie, "I did not 
 think it best to go. Mr. Campbell is very rich." 
 
 " And ain't rich people ever good ? " asked the 
 little girl, who could not just see what the gentle 
 man's wealth had to do with the question. 
 
 " Why, yes, I suppose so, you queer little 
 thing," laughed Yensie. 
 
 "I thought so," said the fairy. "lam sure he 
 is very good, and handsome, and a gentleman ; I 
 heard mother say so." 
 
 " And I am a lady," said Yensie, quickly as if 
 some one had asserted otherwise. 
 
 " And is that the way ladies always act when 
 gentlemen come to take out their little sick friends 
 for a ride?" asked the child, innocently. 
 
 " O Violet, what a strange question," and the 
 girl stooped to kiss her. "I never saw such a 
 child. Will you never be content without reach 
 ing the bottom of a subject ? I didn't wish to go 
 with Mr. Campbell. I want him to understand I 
 won't court his attentions." 
 
 " Isn't that proud ? " interrupted Maude. " O 
 Ennie, I guess he said right when he said you 
 were ' proud and naughty.' " 
 
 But Yensie heard no more. Proud ! Naughty ! 
 Indeed, she would have him understand he hud no 
 right to call her such, or to judge her in any way ; 
 and turning indignantly she hurried in, obedient 
 to Aunt Sarah's shrill call.
 
 amciij' "~_yf'- 
 
 ^v (<i 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " For often in the parting hour, 
 Victorious love asserts its power." 
 
 WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 Yensie was not to entertain this feeling 
 long against Harry Campbell. 
 As the autumn days crept on and little 
 Violet grew more feeble the young man spent 
 much time with her, carrying her about in his 
 strong arms whither she wished to go, sometimes 
 to a seat under the old apple-trees, oftener to the 
 banks of the stream which wound its way back of 
 the house. 
 
 As Maude was never content without Yensie, of 
 
 course these two were thrown much together. At 
 
 first to please Maude, who was troubled by her 
 
 evident coldness to Harry, afterwards because his 
 
 185
 
 186 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 deep attachment to her little cousin touched her, 
 she treated him more kindly. 
 
 He noticed this and strove in every way to be 
 agreeable, often bringing with the rare flowers and 
 delicious fruits he supplied for the invalid, some 
 journal, or choice bit of poetry to read in the quiet 
 hours. Unconsciously Yensie began to look for 
 ward with pleasure to his coming, and found those 
 days shortest which were enlivened by his reading 
 and conversation. 
 
 But Mrs. Campbell was really nervous. Re 
 monstrance with her son was vain, and she de 
 cided to return to the city though much against 
 his will. 
 
 " We have out-stayed all our guests," she said. 
 " I will go over with you to-morrow and bid little 
 Violet farewell, then I shall expect you to stay 
 with me until we depart." 
 
 The lady was hardly prepared for the quiet dig 
 nity with which Yensie greeted her the next day 
 when she called. It compared favorably, however, 
 with the ostentatious welcome of her aunt, and 
 she began to understand the attraction there for 
 her son and was more than ever rejoiced at her 
 decision to depart. 
 
 She appreciated the look of pain that crossed 
 Violet's face when Harry spoke of his early de 
 parture, but was as unsuccessful as her son in dis 
 covering any trace of sorrow on the countenance 
 of the maiden ; for, strange to say, they both
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 187 
 
 looked up eagerly to catch such indications if 
 there, though both from very different motives. 
 
 When Yensie saw the carriage approaching she 
 had guessed the nature of the visit and was there 
 fore prepared for the news before it was an 
 nounced. She did not know that when Harry 
 kissed Maude good-by he whispered an assurance 
 of another visit on the morrow, but she felt a 
 thrill of joy when Violet imparted this information 
 as the carriage drove out of the yard. 
 
 " Mother," said Harry, as the lady sank back on 
 the carriage cushions, " what do you find objec 
 tionable in that young lady ? " 
 
 "I think she is very pleasing in her appear 
 ance," admitted Mrs. Campbell ; " but she is 
 either very cold or very undemonstrative. Did 
 you notice how coolly she took the intelligence of 
 your early departure ? " 
 
 Harry laughed, though it must be confessed he 
 had felt troubled over that very thing. 
 
 " My little mother, why should she grieve ? 
 Would not you be the first to find fault with her if 
 she had ? " 
 
 " Why, yes ; I don't know but I should, that is 
 if you had reciprocated the sorrow," answered the 
 lady. 
 
 Harry looked into his mother's eyes steadily 
 until they dropped beneath his gaze as he replied : 
 
 " Then it would be nothing at all to you madam, 
 did your son occasion pain so long as he did not
 
 188 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 disgrace you by appreciating that suffering ? Or, 
 shall I go further and say no matter who suffers, 
 myself or some one else, if only I do nothing 
 outre ? Mother, if it is any comfort to you, know 
 that I do experience sorrow at this separation 
 while this young lady does not ; and I would will 
 ingly lose my right hand if I only felt sure it 
 would cause her a sigh." 
 
 The little lady did not reply. But she inwardly 
 bemoaned her folly in remaining so long at Wyun, 
 and resolved after her brother's marriage to coax 
 her son into a European tour and give this girl a 
 chance to marry. Well for her, Harry did not 
 know what she premeditated, or he would have 
 spoiled her whole scheme by outright disobe 
 dience. 
 
 As it was, he made his way to the farm-house 
 the next afternoon. 
 
 "I told you I would come again," taking Maude 
 in his arms, his face radiant for, had he not read 
 unmistakable pleasure on Yensie's countenance 
 at his appearing ? 
 
 " You will miss me, little Pet, I know, but what 
 about Miss Ennie ? " and he looked up into the 
 maiden's eyes rather than into Violet's face for his 
 answer. 
 
 Yensie flushed a little beneath his steady gaze, 
 but answered very calmly ; " It would be very 
 strange if I could do otherwise than miss you, Mr. 
 Campbell, remembering your kindnesses not only
 
 X 
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 189 
 
 to ray precious Violet but to myself. I am not 
 insensible to friendship I assure you." Then she 
 turned the subject skillfully to something else. 
 
 "I cannot stay long," he said presently. 
 " Mother waits me, and we go to-morrow." 
 
 "Is it the last time I shall see you?" asked 
 Violet. 
 
 " I trust not, Pet ; I shall be back soon." 
 
 " How soon ? " she inquired, regarding him ear 
 nestly. 
 
 " At Christmas, surely ; Uncle Robinson is to be 
 married then, and insists on having the ceremony 
 take place here. But I will come sooner than 
 that if necessary. If you want me Maude, send 
 for me, will you ? " 
 
 The little one answered him affirmatively ; then 
 he said, " I must go now. How much I hate to 
 leave this place I cannot express," and again he 
 glanced at Yensie, but she met his eyes with an 
 unchanged countenance. 
 
 " My precious little Violet ! " and he clasped her 
 tightly ; then laying her gently back, arranged her 
 pillows with a woman's skill. She clung to his 
 neck a moment whispering, " I'll tell Him all the 
 same if I don't see you again, and Ennie will tell 
 you all the way -to find Him." 
 
 Then Harry turned and took Yensie's hand. 
 His heart was in his eyes and she read more there 
 than she expected to ; that which only one woman 
 ever reads in any true man's eyes, and it thrilled
 
 190 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 her as the heart of woman always thrills when 
 conscious for the first time of the homage of a 
 noble heart no matter how her own may answer it. 
 
 Just then Aunt Sarah opened the door. " Good- 
 "by Mrs. Walton," he said ; then, to Fred and Milly 
 out in the kitchen. 
 
 They all followed him to the door, all save 
 Violet; she lay with eyes shut tightly to keep 
 back her tears. 
 
 He bent low over Yensie's hand at the door as 
 he took it ; bent until his hot breath swept her 
 cheek as he whispered a few words : " I shall de 
 pend on you to send for me should she grow 
 worse. This is my address." 
 
 He had placed his card in her hand and was 
 gone, and she stood looking after the manly figure 
 and watched until he turned at. the bend and 
 waved his hand to her ; then she went back with a 
 certain feeling of mingled pain and pleasure, and 
 looked at the little card as if it was a tie which 
 somehow brought him nearer. 
 
 There was a sense of great loss the next day 
 that settled upon her, as with Maude she watched 
 the elegant equipage growing small in the distance 
 from the window of which a white handkerchief 
 waved until completely hidden by a turn in the 
 road a sense of loss that caused her to shed 
 tears over the little one in her lap. 
 
 It seemed, the day before, that she had been 
 lifted into boundless wealth since it had been re-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 191 
 
 vealed to her that in the deepest depths of one 
 true heart she reigned a queen. She could not 
 have analyzed her feelings, but every time she re 
 called that glance, the rich blood sprang to her 
 cheek and brow, and throbbed tumultuously 
 through every vein. 
 
 She who had been denied a father's and a moth 
 er's love ; she who had gathered up the little rills 
 of affection with all a miser's eagerness ; who 
 looked forward with such a sense of desolation to 
 the time when death should rob her of her dar 
 ling's love ; she, held dearest, highest, best, en 
 throned sole empress of one throbbing human 
 breast. 
 
 This was too great a joy to believe. It made 
 her face radiant with new beauty for many days. 
 She had read this unmistakably in his face, and 
 the assurance came fraught with peculiar tempta 
 tion to one of just her temperament, with all its 
 yearnings for affection, with all its consciousness 
 of undeveloped power and strong ambition for 
 domination. 
 
 The days settled into sameness now, broken 
 once by a box from the city containing flowers and 
 fruit for the sick child and a book of late poems. 
 The winter was very mild and not favorable to 
 health, and the little invalid grew increasingly 
 feeble. 
 
 Yensie was installed nurse, and the front chamber 
 was given up to her and her charge. Decem-
 
 192 YENSIB WALTON. 
 
 ber came and the days grew very quiet, hushed. 
 Yensie had given up her weekly lessons and saw 
 little of Alice Grey. Mr. Goodale was sick with 
 typhoid fever. 
 
 The week before Christmas came, Violet began 
 to suffer more. Mrs. Campbell was already at the 
 mansion house where preparations were going on 
 for the approaching wedding. Some of the guests 
 had arrived, but Fred ascertained that Harry was 
 not there, and, urged by Yensie, Uncle John sent 
 him a telegram. 
 
 He did not receive it, however. He had gone to 
 see Herbert, dispatched by his uncle, who, having 
 taken a decided liking to his nephew's friend, 
 wished him to act as second groomsman, Harry 
 being first. 
 
 When Mr. Campbell made his appearance at 
 W} r nn the day bef^j Christmas he was confronted 
 by the stable boy, bearing a tiny note : 
 
 " The little schamp from the farm-house axed 
 me to give ye this : " 
 
 " Violet will not live to see to-morrow. We tele 
 graphed two days since. Y. W." 
 
 " Give my excuses to mother, Tom. I am called 
 suddenly away ; bring out King John," and in less 
 than five minutes Harry was riding at the top of 
 his speed towards the farm-house. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the front chamber of the old red 
 farm-house a young life was ebbing slowly away ;
 
 YBNSIE WALTON. 193 
 
 or should we rather say that in the old home-nest 
 a little bird plumed itself for everlasting soarings, 
 while one she loved looked on and mourned. 
 
 Mourned, not at her loss however ; she never 
 could be lost to Yensie. She, with whose memory 
 each tree, and twig, and winding path was inclis- 
 solubly linked ; she, whose eyes would smile on her 
 from every blue-eyed flower ; whose golden curls 
 would wave in every gleam of sunshine ; whose 
 loving voice would whisper soothing in every 
 passing zephyr ; whose tender ministry was once 
 and forever linked with every pure and holy thing 
 in earth and heaven, in heart of God and heart of 
 man ; could not be lost. 
 
 Sister Rogers had whispered to her that very 
 morning as she gazed on the marble faces, " her 
 gain, but your loss, Miss Yeusie." 
 
 But Yensie had shrank, shocked at the very 
 thought. Maude's gain, her loss ? nay, never ! 
 How could it be that by adding to her treasure's 
 treasure, she could be robbed ? Her darling gath 
 ering ever and forever the endless blessings and 
 exhaust] ess glories of the Holiest, and she impov 
 erished thereby ! Nay, rather say enriched, since 
 part cannot receive without enlarging all, and 
 Violet was now and must be eternally, part of her 
 very life. 
 
 Ah ! no. It was not that the nestling's wings 
 had grown, she mourned ; hail, any breeze to waft 
 this spotless dove beyond the possibility of stain-
 
 194 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 ing ; this joyous soul beyond the chance of griev 
 ing ! Not at the bird's departure did she weep, 
 but that she must remain behind and share the 
 deserted nest and feel its utter loneliness. 
 
 Violet had been to Yensie what no other being 
 could ever be. The first little babe her arms had 
 ever held, the first tender love that found its way 
 to her smitten, numbed, bereaved heart, when she 
 came a little orphan to Valley Farm. 
 
 To Maude she had gone with every sorrow, ex 
 pecting sympathy and comfort as well as love ; 
 and in her baby-fashion she had given it unstinted. 
 Hers was the one sweet influence that kept the 
 orphan's heart from growing utterly cold and cal 
 lous under the bitter experience life brought her 
 so early. 
 
 Maude's faith in God had brought hers back to 
 life when almost dead /Maude's faith in man had 
 made her hope for else than unldndness ; Maude's 
 faith in her, had made her strong to fight the giant 
 evils in her own heart. When no one else prayed 
 for her, Maude prayed, " God bless dear Ennie." 
 To her next to Alice Grey she had told the story 
 of her redemption. 
 
 " That which the fountain sends forth, returns 
 again to the fountain ; " and back on the head 
 of her darling she had poured the gathered rills of 
 love and blessing hoarded through years and 
 grown to great rivers beneath the magnifying 
 grace of God. She had brought out those baby
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 195 
 
 feet into the paths of conscious communion and 
 fellowship with Christ those feet now tremb 
 ling on the verge of eternity, about to mount into 
 the open light of heaven. 
 
 No snow had fallen all winter, and Maude had 
 experienced a desire to see the tiny flakes again, 
 and Yeusie had watched for weeks for indications 
 of approaching storm. To-day the sky was dull, 
 the air chill, everything portended snow, but the 
 maiden feared her darling would be gone ere it 
 would fall. 
 
 Mrs. Walton met Harry at the door and con 
 ducted him up stairs. Yensie sat beside the bed 
 her head resting on her hand, her eyes fixed on the 
 face of the little one, her attitude full of inex 
 pressible agony. 
 
 Upon the bed lay little Violet. Her long hair 
 like shining waves of gold spread over the pillow, 
 her eyes closed, their dark lashes causing the face 
 to look so marble-like that Harry started, fearful 
 she was already beyond his reach. 
 
 He approached the bed. " Yensie, I did not get 
 the telegram," he whispered, and then bending 
 over the couch called tenderly, " Violet." 
 
 The blue eyes opened quickly, the parched lips 
 parted with such a smile, while she stretched her 
 hands toward him. He stooped to meet her em 
 brace, and Yensie, through her tears, saw the dark 
 curls mingle with the golden, the handsome face 
 so full of youth and beauty, yet so wholly of this
 
 196 YENS1E WALTON. 
 
 world, press the pale lily, the spotless loveliness, 
 that mirrored only heaven. 
 
 " Take me," Maude whispered, and wrapped in 
 a blanket, he bore her back and forth in his strong 
 arms. 
 
 Yensie rose and walked to the window. The 
 ground was growing white, the snow must have 
 been falling some minutes. 
 
 Great seemed the satisfaction of the little one as, 
 cradled in the young man's arms, she watched the 
 tiny flakes descend ; but she soon grew weary and 
 begged to be laid down again ; then, with a hand in 
 each of theirs, she fell into a peaceful sleep. 
 
 Harry glanced at the beloved object, separated 
 yet bound to him by that wee form, but Yensie's 
 eyes were fixed on her darling. 
 
 Presently Mild*"^! came into the room, and 
 Harry rose to greet her. The child began to move, 
 quivering as if in pain. He stood and watched 
 the convulsed face until he could bear it no 
 longer. 
 
 Mildred had gone out. Miss Grey came in. 
 Harry turned to the door, and Yensie followed 
 him. 
 
 "You will excuse me from waiting on you 
 down-stairs ? " she said ; " I must stay with Maude 
 while I have her." 
 
 Her voice trembled over the last four words. 
 He only pressed her hand, and for the second time
 
 YENSLE WALTON. 197 
 
 that day forgot the prefix he used generally before 
 her name. 
 
 " Yensie, I wish I could comfort you. God 
 knows I never felt so helpless as to-day," and he 
 was gone. 
 
 Gone out into the wind and snow, out with a 
 heart in which pain and pleasure, doubt and won 
 derment, were holding controversy ; for so self 
 dares to intrude upon our most sacred hours. He 
 questioned if she thought of that bond the child 
 had made between them when she had given a 
 hand to each a bond which separated and yet 
 linked them alas, he could not guess how truly.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "A dear, undying vision from above, 
 Bearing through death the olive, like the dove, 
 To realms of love." 
 
 ARRY had been, since six o'clock, waiting 
 impatiently in the depot for Herbert's 
 appearance. 
 
 Guests had been arriving all the morning and 
 earlier part of the afternoon. He had hardly ex 
 pected his friend before eight o'clock, if he came 
 at all in such a storm; but his restlessness in 
 creased as the day advanced, and became alto 
 gether unbearable as the evening settled in, and in 
 spite of his mother's protestations, he had hur 
 ried to the station. 
 
 There, pacing up and down the waiting-room, he 
 wondered if Maude still lived why the time 
 passed so slowly what delayed the train that it
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 199 
 
 should be so much behind time. Though this 
 might have been reasonably expected considering 
 the state of the weather. 
 
 At last he heard the whistle and the great 
 engine with its fiery eye, like some storm-fury, 
 swept puffing and groaning into the depot; and 
 there, among the three who alighted, stood Herbert 
 Gardenell. 
 
 Harry had him by the arm in a moment, hurry 
 ing him to the waiting coach. " I feared you 
 would not come the train is late. But I am so 
 relieved, so glad to see you," shutting the carriage 
 door with one hand, as he grasped his friend's with 
 the other. 
 
 " Yes, the train was delayed, the snow blocked 
 up the road somewhat. 1 hardly expected to find 
 you waiting for me," said Herbert, heartily sink 
 ing back on the velvet cushions. "Have your 
 guests all arrived ? Rather unfortunate this storm 
 for such a time." 
 
 " Yes, but most of the guests are here," Harry 
 replied. " Some arrived two days ago, the bigger 
 part last night and this morning. There are a few- 
 missing will not be likely to come now but as 
 the divines are safely housed the ceremony can go 
 on, though I fear this storm will delay the bridal 
 tour. What has got into Tom ? Aren't we going 
 at a very slow rate ? " he added, uneasily. 
 
 " You are not often in such a hurry. Is there 
 some particular fair one waiting your return I
 
 200 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 wonder? Miss Hartley, for instance," laughed 
 Herbert. 
 
 But Harry only scowled, and said, politely : 
 
 " Hang Lois Hartley. She has about made me 
 sick tc-day. What ails that Irish fool ? Tom, you 
 rascal," thrusting his head out of the door, " why 
 don't you hurry ? " 
 
 " An' it's mesilf as is thrying," answered that 
 worthy. The sthorni is too much for me. Ye 
 wouldn't have me kill the horses now ? " 
 
 " Kill anything," was the very sensible reply, 
 " only get us home before midnight." 
 
 Unbroken silence settled upon the occupants of 
 the coach now, only disturbed by the frozen snow, 
 dashing against the windows and Tom's " now, 
 now me beauties, jist show yersilves ; it's ye's that 
 can go whin ye's thry," etc., etc. 
 
 Into the dining room Harry hurried his friend. 
 " Gard, take some hot coffee and a lunch, you must 
 be frozen." Then, to the old lady who answered 
 the bell, " Aunt Roxy, serve me something hot 
 without a moment's delay." 
 
 As Mr. Campbell turned from giving this order 
 he met his friend's puzzled face. " I cannot help 
 wondering," he smiled. " It is so delightfully new 
 to see 3 r ou hurried at all." 
 
 " Did it strike you that Aunt Roxy seemed sur 
 prised thereby ? " asked Harry. " You do not 
 know me yet, my friend." 
 
 The young man curbed his impatience, however,
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 201 
 
 until his friend had finished a hearty meal, then 
 laying a hand on Herbert's arm he said, " Gard, I 
 want you to put on your overcoat, and go out 
 again. Little Violet is dying ; dead, perhaps, ere 
 this," and he shivered. 
 
 " I did not dare tell you before. I knew you 
 would hurry off without your supper. This mis 
 erable village ! I never saw the value before of 
 station-restaurants. I'd have given a small pile to 
 have had one here this night. But we can hurry 
 now, the carriage is waiting. I will dismiss Tom 
 and drive you over myself." 
 
 Mr. Gardenell was hurrying on his overshoes, 
 but he said, "poor child ! " 
 
 " You would not use that tone if you had seen 
 her as I did this morning," said Harry. " Poor, 
 indeed! O Herbert, I never imagined such a 
 sight ; her very face shines." 
 
 " Maude's ? Yes, I know it must," replied Her 
 bert. " I did not mean her." 
 
 " But Yensie ? " said Harry, quickly. " O Gard, 
 that is it ; the little one is going beyond the pain, 
 I know that much, but God knows I'd have given 
 my fortune this morning could I have offered one 
 crumb of comfort to that stricken girl. She was 
 so quiet, so subdued, and yet, my God, so ago 
 nized. I shall never forget the anguish in her 
 dark eyes, as I turned and met them just as that 
 little one passed through a spasm of pain. You 
 tvill know what to say Gard, how to comfort her.
 
 202 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 'Twas for her sake I waited so impatiently for 
 your coming ; " and he rushed out to see that all 
 was ready. 
 
 There was no chance to talk after that. The 
 snow had fallen in great quantities and was yet 
 falling, the wind drifting it in great heaps and 
 blowing it in Harry's eyes so that it was all he 
 could do to keep the horses in the road. 
 
 At length he drew up the faithful creatures, 
 panting from exertion, in front of the farm-house 
 gate. 
 
 "Will you go in?" questioned Gardenell. 
 
 " Me ? No. I can do no good, and I have seen 
 all I can bear," was the reply. 
 
 " Then do not wait for me. Go home and put 
 up those horses. I can walk back better than 
 they can carry me ; " and he hurried toward the 
 house, while Harry turned homeward. 
 
 The grand old trees were swaying and groaning, 
 tossed by the wind which whistled fiercely around 
 the corners of the old house ; creaking the shut 
 ters, rattling the doors as if battling for entrance, 
 and moaning and shrieking about the windows 
 where the sick child lay. 
 
 But in the chamber of death all was quiet, yea, 
 hushed, the silence occasionally broken by a sob 
 from Fred or Mildred, who knelt, with faces hid 
 den in the bed-clothes, by the farther side of the 
 bed, or by a smothered groan from Uncle John,
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 203 
 
 who sat with his face hidden in his great hands 
 struggling with his grief. 
 
 Herbert Gardenell made his way to the kitchen 
 where he saw a light, fearing lest his-knock might 
 disturb the child did she yet live. 
 
 It was Jinks who answered his rap and con 
 ducted him to the front hall, whispering hoarsely 
 as he pointed up the stairs, " First door .to the 
 right." 
 
 No one noticed Herbert as he entered, for all 
 eyes were fixed on the shining face of the little 
 one. She lay with eye? half closed, a smile about 
 her lips waiting her angel escorts. 
 
 It was the lighting of her face as her opening 
 eyes met Herbert's, that made them first aware of 
 his presence. 
 
 She extended her little hand feebly, as she tried 
 to speak his name, and silently he came forward 
 and bent over her. 
 
 " I thought you'd come, I asked Him," she said, 
 brokenly ; " I had something to say to you." 
 
 Her voice was growing thick, and her lips were 
 parched. Alice Grey lifted a cup from the table 
 and wet them. 
 
 The little one smiled her thanks, and closed her 
 eyes for a moment, but still clung to the hand the 
 young man had given her. 
 
 "When you preach," she had loved to talk 
 with Yensie about Mr. Herbert preaching some
 
 204 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 day " tell the children about " and she stopped 
 again, exhausted. 
 
 Presently she went on brokenly, " Jesus little 
 ones Nettie and I." 
 
 He knew now what she meant. " The story I 
 told you and Nettie, the day you were at the man 
 sion house, of Jesus and His love for children ? " 
 he questioned, gently. 
 
 She smiled and whispered, " yes." Then, as if 
 gathering all her strength for this last effort, " tell 
 them not to wait to grow big, He saves the chil 
 dren now. Tell them He saved me," and she 
 closed her eyes. 
 
 She hardly seemed to breathe in the next few 
 minutes, and those about her held their breath in 
 fear ; but again the blue eyes opened, and the 
 movement of her little hands, the single word 
 " up," told what she wanted. 
 
 Herbert lifted her head carefully and seating 
 himself on the bed drew it to his bosom. Her 
 smile thanked him. 
 
 Her eyes wandered from face to face with a 
 smile of recognition ; a pitiful glance as they 
 met Mr. Walton's bowed figure, and the word 
 " father ; " a painful expression as they met the 
 two tearful child faces lifted for a moment from 
 the counterpane ; a look of inexpressible love 
 and yearning as they rested on her darling Ennie. 
 
 She stretched out her little hand whispering, 
 " Sing pearly gates open " and Yensie under-
 
 YEXSIE WALTON. 205 
 
 stood her wish. She took the little hand, but how 
 could she sing when all her heart was melting into 
 agony ? 
 
 Yet those earnest eyes, whose light would soon 
 go out on earth forever, were pleading and she 
 could but try. Her voice trembled perceptibly as 
 she began, the struggle for control was very evi 
 dent, but ere the first chorus was ended she had 
 gained the mastery over her emotions. 
 
 " Ope open wide to Violet," gasped the little 
 one, and Yensie understanding changed the words 
 as she had wished. 
 
 THE SONG. 
 
 I think I hear the angel minstrels singing, 
 I think I hear them blessed tidings bringing, 
 
 Of good to man ; 
 
 Of peace on earth, and joy which endeth never, 
 But welds the present to the vast forever 
 
 In endless psalm. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Sleep, darling sleep! The God who made, still hearing, 
 Bids me be still, and never fearing, 
 
 In him abide; 
 
 For having given Christ, all good is given, 
 And some day hope will ripe to rich fruition 
 
 We reach his side. 
 
 Come angel-bands, from fields forever vernal, 
 Coine angel-bands, from joys which are eternal, 
 To earthly shore,
 
 206 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 And guide these tiny feet through bluest ether 
 
 To where beside the Christ they'll rest forever, 
 
 For evermore. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Oh, pearly gates, ope, open wide to Violet I 
 Nor let our selfish love e'er hold her here. 
 Lift up, lift up, O wondrous gates of glory I 
 And let the beauties of that world appear. 
 
 The look ineffable which passed over the lovely 
 face as Yensie sung the last chorus cannot be 
 described. She lifted herself as with supernatural 
 strength from her reclining position. 
 
 " Ennie they are coming listen the pearly 
 gates are open wide. Ennie I see 
 Jesus," and falling back upon Herbert's bosom 
 with one long sigh the little spirit went out and 
 the old clock in the dining-room struck twelve. 
 
 Went out! not on the wings of night, not on 
 the wings of the storm ; but beyond th"e night, 
 beyond the storm, borne so mysteriously, and yet 
 so surely to the Father's bosom. Just as the last 
 stroke of the old clock proclaimed one hour ended 
 another one begun; so the last pulsation of that 
 little heart proclaimed an earthly pilgrimage past, 
 heaven gained ; for in that little breath of time 
 God's swift-winged messengers had gone forth and 
 returned to lay the lamb within the Shepherd's 
 bosom. 
 
 And Herbert Gardenell realizing all this, lay back
 
 TENSIE WALTON. 207 
 
 again amid the pillows, the lovely casket from 
 which the gem had been removed, repeating in 
 solemn joyousness as one of old, " The Lord gave, 
 and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the 
 name of the Lord. Let us thank Him." And on 
 bended knees, up from that death-robbed bed-side, 
 rose such thanksgiving for a life so precious, a 
 death so glorious ; a gift so guarded here, so 
 gently gathered there ; such a pean of praise for 
 grace which could out of the mouth o such a 
 babe ordain such wondrous strength as those gath 
 ered in that chamber had never heard before. 
 
 Milly and Fred checked their sobs instinctively, 
 while Uncle John and Yensie felt the flood-gates 
 of their souls unloosed in precious tear-rills, and 
 Alice Grey followed each word with joy unutter 
 able.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " Oh, what is life but a sum of love, 
 
 And death but to lose it all ? 
 Weeds be for those that are left behind, 
 And not for those that fall ! " 
 
 MILNES. 
 
 HE hands that had so often robed this lit 
 tle one in life, now prepared her body for 
 the grave ; now turned, for the last time 
 each golden tress with a carefulness which earned 
 its skill by years of practice. 
 
 Nay, Yensie could not be denied this sad privi 
 lege, and with the assistance of Miss Grey the 
 task was all too soon completed. 
 
 Mildred petitioned for one shining curl, and 
 Yensie turned her face away while Alice severed 
 it. Mrs. Walton was asked if she would like one 
 also, but she said, " No, I should not know what to 
 do with it ; leave them where they are." And 
 208
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 209 
 
 her niece blessed her heartily ; to shear her darling 
 seemed like such high sacrilege. 
 
 Meanwhile, below stairs Herbert sought to ad 
 minister comfort to Uncle John. The good old 
 man had dreaded to see one go, who had been so 
 helpful to him, so evidently dear to the departed, 
 and had prevailed on the young man to remain 
 through the rest of the night ; and indeed it was a 
 fearful storm in which to venture out. 
 
 The guest-chamber war> already occupied by an 
 uninvited and unwelcome guest, and this stranger, 
 also uninvited but so doubly welcome could not 
 be induced to retire to some other room to sleep. 
 He had rather far sit and talk with Mr. Walton he 
 said, when pressed, though to please that gentle 
 man, he at length stretched himself upon the sofa 
 in the dining-room. 
 
 Aunt Sarah, careful, capable, managing, seemed 
 like some one dazed by this great trouble, and 
 yielded herself unquestioningly to the hands of 
 her niece. It was Yensie who saw her safe to bed, 
 then assisted the children to retire, waiting until 
 the}' slept before removing the lights, and it was 
 Yensie who, at length, prevailed upon Miss Grey 
 to lie down. 
 
 Alice allowed her young friend to unfasten 
 her clothes and hair, to prepare her a cup of tea 
 and sit beside her until she slept ; knowing how 
 much it comforted her to minister thus to some 
 one.
 
 210 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 The grey morning creeping in, just as Alice 
 fell asleep, suggested to the young girl other work, 
 and she craved work now as never before. 
 
 She went down-stairs softly and through the 
 hall, opening the kitchen door. Jinks lay fast 
 asleep upon the settle where he had thrown him 
 self towards morning after a night of restlessness. 
 
 Yensie crept by him to the bed-room and bring 
 ing out a quilt covered him, and then began to 
 kindle the fire, and get breakfast ready. 
 
 She went about noiselessly, lest she should wake 
 Jinks, unconscious that through the open door 
 two eyes followed her every movement, noting 
 each preparation. The coffee made, the fish 
 broiled, she stepped into the dining-room to set the 
 table, and stopped in astonishment, met by the face 
 of Herbert Gardenell. 
 
 He sprang to his feet as she entered. " I have 
 startled you," he said, apologetically ; " I have been 
 watching you at work this while past, but so 
 lazily, so half consciously, as not to arouse suffi 
 ciently to remember you did not know my where 
 abouts, and would need this room so soon. Par 
 don me, I suppose you did not know I remained 
 through the night." 
 
 " Yes sir, I did know," she answered, slightly 
 flushing." My uncle told me, and I have been 
 preparing your breakfast. But I supposed you 
 had a bed." 
 
 " I might have had, but needed to be stirring so
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 211 
 
 early I thought it unnecessary to retire. I fear, 
 judging from your heavy eyes, you have not tried 
 to rest at all." 
 
 " I did not need to," she answered, turning her 
 head lest he should see the tears started by his 
 kind words. 
 
 " Or, did not wish to, which ? " he questioned 
 gently. " Sometimes we do not feel to need that 
 which we need the most. You must not over 
 strain your body Yensie, it is God's gift, and mer 
 its care and thought as well as any other of his 
 benefits." 
 
 She hardly knew what to answer him, so instead 
 of speaking at all she turned to the cup-board and 
 bringing out a table-cloth walked to the table. 
 
 Herbert helped her draw it out, then went to 
 the kitchen sink to refresh himself and Yensie 
 brought him a towel. 
 
 " Poor Jinks is tired," said Mr. Walton, com 
 ing in. " Don't disturb him, Ennie dear ; I have 
 cared for the cattle ; " and they three sat down to 
 the table. 
 
 It was a very quiet breakfast hour, neither of 
 the three seeming to appreciate the food placed 
 before them, and the girl, at least, was glad when 
 it was over. 
 
 Uncle John excused himself, and went to seek 
 his wife. 
 
 " I think I must go now, Yensie," said Herbert, 
 again addressing her so simply, so naturally by her
 
 212 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 first name ; it had struck her as the sweetest name 
 she had ever heard, both times he had uttered it. 
 " I shall have to trouble you for my coat and hat, 
 as Uncle John carried them away." 
 
 She went out and brought them in, standing be 
 fore him as he put them on. She felt so grateful for 
 his presence the night before and wished to tell 
 him so, but her usually skilful tongue had lost its 
 power. 
 
 " I would not go so soon," he said, smiling down 
 into her face, " but Harry is so worried, dear boy, 
 and I may be needed." 
 
 " I know you came to Wynn expecting to at 
 tend a very different occasion, Mr. Gardenell," she 
 said timidly. " But we were very glad to have 
 you, and I thank you for your words of comfort 
 and of prayer." 
 
 "And I thank God, he has permitted me so 
 early in his service to behold the power of his 
 grace in one so young. I thank him for this mes 
 sage to the lambs, fresh from the lips of one who 
 had tried the way and knew of what she spoke. 
 God helping me, it shall not be in vain I stood 
 beside that bed last night. Her precious ministry 
 shall perpetuate itself in mine, and thence perhaps 
 in others, until astonished she shall look some 
 where on the abundant fruits of her short life." 
 
 Great tears were falling over Yensie's face, and 
 as he finished speaking, she gave him her hand 
 without a word.
 
 TENSiE WALTON. 213 
 
 " I shall be here again before I go away," he 
 said, " The dear Lord comfort you." She then 
 conducted him to the door. 
 
 " It was very early, yet not so early but that 
 Harry Campbell, covered with snow, stood before 
 the house just about to enter. 
 
 " Violet ? " was all he asked, eyes on the young 
 girl's face. 
 
 " Is safe within the fold," was her reply. 
 
 He turned his head : she must not see his tears. 
 
 " Will you come in, Mr. Campbell ? " 
 
 "No, no; not now," he said hurriedly, then 
 turning and looking at her, he added gently, " If 
 my presence would do any good you would not 
 need to ask me, as it is I had better go. I think I 
 could not bear to see her" dead, he meant to 
 say but the word choked him, and bowing, he fol 
 lowed Gardenell. 
 
 The snow was still falling, though the wind had 
 ceased, and the two young men found it difficult 
 to press their way through the great drifts. 
 
 " I did not dare bring out the horses, " Harry 
 said. 
 
 " I am glad you did not try to," was the reply. 
 
 " Was it long after you got there ? " asked 
 Harry, presently. 
 
 " Not very long. Just about twelve o'clock the 
 gates opened and she passed through," responded 
 his friend. 
 
 "Did she suffer much?" was the next question.
 
 214 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 "Not after I arrived," said Herbert. " She was 
 the happiest person, living or dying, my eyes ever 
 rested on." 
 
 " Gard, did she take it very hard ? Did you try 
 to comfort her ? " 
 
 " I asked God to, that is the surer way, you 
 know," said Herbert, answering the latter part of 
 the question. 
 
 " No, I do not know," was Harry's answer, and 
 they walked on in silence. 
 
 As tired and panting they reached the gate, 
 Harry tried to assume his old humorous tone. 
 
 " A lucky thing for me, the ladies will have all 
 they can do to-day to prepare their toilets for to 
 night, otherwise pretty fix I should be in, up all 
 night. I say Gard, I envy you, old fellow. You 
 come out from any occasion, funeral or otherwise, 
 fresh and glad-faced as the morning. Give me 
 your receipt." 
 
 " The Lord is my Shepherd. He restoreth my 
 soul. He anointeth my head with oil ; my cup 
 runneth over." 
 
 "I'd like to try it, Gard. 
 
 " You may," was the prompt reply. " It is. 
 ' whosoever will,' Harry, and, ' whoso trusteth in 
 the Lord happy is he. He shall not be afraid of 
 evil tidings, his heart is fixed trusting in God ; ' 
 for, ' all things work together for good to them 
 who love God.' " 
 
 "Gard, isn't that just a little steep?" asked
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 215 
 
 Harry, sighing. " ' All things ' means so much. 
 Don't you ever expect to be where you won't rel 
 ish it ; where it won't look reconcilable to what 
 you call good ? " 
 
 " Possibly," answered Herbert, " and yet the 
 truth will still remain. Facts never change. Our 
 belief can only effect us not them. I have been 
 enabled so far however, Harry, to prove that prom 
 ise true, and by His grace expect to unto the end. 
 If my faith fails, I will yet pray and where I can 
 not trace I will ask for help to trust, knowing all 
 will be manifest some day." 
 
 In the great house was much preparation and 
 bustle going on, in the farm-house the looked-for 
 occasion had passed and nervous expectation had 
 given place to wondrous calm. 
 
 Later in the day, Harry sent the choicest, and 
 most delicate blossoms of the green-house to 
 Yensie, and while in one home they decked with 
 orange-blossoms the bride-elect of Winthrop Rob 
 inson ; in another, kind hands as tenderly, as lov 
 ingly, strewed over the death-chosen one nature's 
 sweet comforters. 
 
 That night while Herbert Gardenell and Harry 
 Campbell stood in the richly decorated drawing- 
 rooms amid the gay, glad throng, where vows were 
 taken by unconsecrated lips, which unconsecrated 
 hearts can never fully keep, Alice Grey and 
 Yensie sat conversing in the old-time attic, but
 
 216 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 little changed in its appearance from other days. 
 
 As Alice clambered over the stairs and landed 
 at the door, her companion noticed that with a 
 quick involuntary movement she placed her hand 
 on her heart while her breath came short and fast. 
 
 "Are you ill?" cried the girl excitedly. O 
 Alice, this has been too much for you," and tears 
 sprang to her eyes as she gazed into the face of 
 her friend. 
 
 But Alice smiled. " Do not be alarmed darling, 
 this is nothing new. I have had a heart difficulty 
 for many years," and sitting down she took both 
 of Yensie's hands in hers. 
 
 But the young girl was not satisfied, her anx 
 ious eyes bent on her friend said this, and Miss 
 Grey answered them : 
 
 " You are borrowing unnecessary trouble, little 
 girl," she said, gently. " I am no worse at pres 
 ent than for years past, only I am tired. I ought 
 not to have tried to keep school this term. When 
 I get home to mother I will rest." 
 
 " And do you suffer much? " inquired Yensie. 
 
 " Only at times, dear, and then it is bearable." 
 
 " O Alice, why do the good suffer ? I cannot 
 understand it," cried the impulsive child. " I can 
 understand why a guilty, wicked man should bear 
 pain, but when I saw wee Violet, that innocent, 
 little babe writhing in agony, my heart rebelled, 
 and I questioned why ? There only came one an 
 swer in that hour, ' He knows. ' "
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 217 
 
 " Yes, He knows," said Alice, smiling, and with 
 a thrill of triumph in her voice she added, " and 
 he never makes mistakes. We none of us suffer 
 after our deserts, darling, that were unbearable. 
 Not according to the guilt of men is meted out 
 their present pain or our God judges most 
 strangely. Such a supposition plunges us into in 
 extricable difficulties. I could believe the oppo 
 site better, that according to the undeveloped good 
 in man God bids him suffer." 
 
 " But, Alice, have not all some undeveloped 
 good within them ? " asked her companion. 
 
 " And do not all suffer ? " was the questioning 
 reply. 
 
 " Yes but " and Yensie hesitated. " There 
 is so much difference, Alice, between the sufferers 
 and sufferings. There's Farmer Boyd now, so 
 strong and robust, and hard-hearted. It almost 
 seems as if he had not sensitiveness enough to make 
 the pangs of hell excruciating. I suppose he will 
 die some day and then disease and pain will seize 
 on him ; but how little will it be after all compared 
 to suffering like yours, where every tender fibre 
 and sensitive nerve adds a hundred-fold to every 
 pang." 
 
 " Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and 
 scourgeth every son whom he receiveth ; " repeat 
 ed Miss Grey, softly. 
 
 " Yes, dear Alice, but why ? I am so puzzled 
 sometimes. Is he not able to make me just as pure
 
 218 FENSIE WALTON. 
 
 and holy without these scourgings ? God is not 
 limited ; this surely is not the only way He could 
 use to bring us to himself." 
 
 " No," answered Miss Grey, " not the only way 
 perhaps, but undoubtedly the best. His methods 
 are always the wisest, always infallible. We can 
 not understand them. How dare finite aspire to 
 knowledge of the infinite ? And yet, my darling, 
 even this He promises to us some day. ' Now through 
 a glass darkly then face to face now I know 
 in part then even as I am also known.' We are 
 in the 'now' to-day, the ' then ' will make so many 
 dark things luminous. The glory of that ' after 
 wards ' to pain and suffering of which we only get 
 such meagre droppings here will more than com 
 pensate for the deepest depths of human bitterness 
 and woe. Yensie, I sometimes catch a glimmer, 
 just a glimmer, from out the inner glory human 
 ity can poorly bear it, and stricken beneath its 
 power my soul cries out, ' Years, years of starless 
 midnight wanderings, of travail, anguish, pain, for 
 just one moment at His feet ! ' ' 
 
 Yensie's eyes were full of tears. " Dear Alice," 
 she said, " you have suffered more than I can even 
 picture ; 1 feel this sometimes when you talk with 
 me." 
 
 Miss Grey lifted a little hand to her trembling 
 lips ere she made answer. 
 
 " Yes, darling, there are soul-pangs which only 
 God can fathom, heart-aches before which the most
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 219 
 
 excruciating bodily pain grows insignificant. Out 
 through the furnace fires he led me to his breast ; 
 over a thorny road, where every brier tore my 
 heart. Yet the servant is not greater than his 
 Lord, and, wondrous love, he chooses to be no bet 
 ter off than the weakest of his servants. The 
 flames which sought to embrace me but wrapped 
 the form of one whose sheltering arms thus drew 
 me closer, and every thorn which pierced my feet 
 tore His as well. Ah, we forget," she said, her 
 voice growing tender and her eyes wandering off 
 into the gathering shadows, " we forget He made us 
 for His glory not for our own pleasure ; and those 
 who endure the most patiently most magnify His 
 grace. His strength is made perfect in weakness, 
 ' not weakness of faith but flesh.' It is written 
 that Christ glorified not himself, but Him who 
 said ' Thou art my son.' Darling, God help both 
 you and me to pray out of the deeps of our 
 full hearts the Saviour's prayer, ' Father, glorify thy 
 name.' " 
 
 Yensie was sobbing softly, her head hidden in 
 Miss Grey's lap. 
 
 " Alice," she whispered, " must I, must all true 
 Christians suffer as you have to prepare them for 
 another world ? " 
 
 " The Lord forbid," said Alice, fervently. " My 
 dear, dear child, the Lord forbid that sorrow like 
 that ever touch your heart ! And yet," she added, 
 " all must suffer more or less. I have found as I
 
 220 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 have passed through life a universal LTW, ' All 
 that \\ ill live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer,' 
 not only persecution from the world ; but in body, 
 mind, spirit, as others do not. You may almost 
 always trace back a rounded Christian life to sanc 
 tified pain and sacrifice. There may be exceptions, 
 I believe this is the rule, and I have thought some 
 times I could see the reason. We value that most 
 which cost us much. If God made us holy and 
 happy as you say, without our volition, it would be 
 at the expense of our highest nature ; the breath 
 ings of Jehovah whereby this clod became a soul 
 would seem to be lost. Nay, we have sparks of the. 
 divine within us. He gives us power to resist 
 him arid walk where we will. But if we once ac 
 knowledge his power and put ourselves in his 
 hands to shape and mould, knowing we are weak, 
 and apt to stray, he presses near to that we ask 
 arid crave at times, even at the expense of our ease 
 and joy at other times. He answers our prayers, 
 by making us fulfil them even when we shrink 
 through the weakness of the flesh. Our Jesus 
 while here on earth offered up prayers and suppli 
 cations with strong cry ings and tears unto Him 
 that was able to save him from death and yet while 
 it is recorded that he was heard, it is added, ' Though 
 he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the 
 things which he suffered.' '' 
 
 " Alice, what can it mean ? " whispered an awe 
 struck voice.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 221 
 
 " We cannot fully know, my darling. But you 
 know, to wish to obey, to intend or expect to obey 
 is not obedience, but that which comes before it, 
 A trial tests the reality of our intentions and then 
 we obey or disobey. Perhaps this means that He 
 who had always been obeyed and never before had 
 been called upon to obey himself, found in his new 
 humanity himself a subject, with his Father's com 
 mands upon him, and his first opportunity to prove 
 his obedience lay through the path of bitter pain 
 and suffering. ' In all things it behooved him to 
 be made like unto his brethren, that he might be a 
 merciful and faithful High Priest.' " 
 
 " Dear Alice," said Yensie, " I read a verse the 
 other morning which has been in my thoughts ever 
 since. ' For it became him for whom are all things, 
 and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons 
 unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation 
 perfect through suffering.' ' : 
 
 " ' For both he that sanctifieth and they who are 
 sanctified are all of one,'" added Alice, softly, with 
 closed eyes, and wet cheeks, and lifted, reverent 
 face. " Oh, my darling, my darling, what conde 
 scension ! what love ! " 
 
 There was a little hush for a few moments, then 
 Yensie whispered, "But he was always perfect, 
 Alice ? " 
 
 " Yes. darling, in his divinity," she answered. 
 " O, Yensie, this is too great for us ; we are but 
 mortal. Through a woman's pangs he entered this
 
 222 YENSffi WALTON. 
 
 world like YOU and I ; he then was man ; and the 
 death throe waited for him as it waits for us, the 
 birth-pang to another world. There has been but 
 one portal into the invisible for Adam's race, and 
 stooping to take its weaknesses he bowed his royal 
 head in death and passed the self-same door his sin 
 ful brethren passed. Perfect divinity and untried 
 humanity met in the babe of Bethlehem, and yet to be 
 a perfect Saviour he must be a perfect man as well as 
 perfect God. Life met him as it meets us, darling ; 
 with childhood, home, mother, brethren, friends ; 
 he had his loves and sorrows ; he graced the mar 
 riage feast, and stood beside the rock-tomb of his 
 loved ; he fasted, wept, prayed, groaned. In mid 
 night wrestlings and in day-light toil he earned his 
 right to stand as one of us, ' A man of sorrows and 
 acquainted with grief, aye, so well acquainted ! and 
 we hid as it were our faces from him. Oh, surely 
 my Saviour, thou blessed Son of man and Son of 
 God, it ma} r be said of thee, 'perfect through suffer 
 ing.' Darling, our every woe he understands and 
 sympathizes with, but when we read his life how 
 our sorrows sink into insignificance before this 
 agony we may not fathom. God be praised, the 
 pang of pangs our mortal could not bear, the rueful 
 chalice our lips could not have pressed, he drained 
 unto its dregs, and crying ' It is finished,' under a 
 father's hidden face gave up his life to death that 
 you and I might live. O Jesus, man of sorrows I
 
 YENSEB WALTON. 
 
 223 
 
 we thank thee that thy lifted head received the 
 blows our sinful hearts deserved." 
 
 Miss Grey's voice sank to the faintest whisper, 
 yet distinct in that hushed atmosphere as she re 
 peated, " ' Blessing and honor, and glory, and pow 
 er be unto him who sitteth upon the throne and 
 unto the Lamb forever and ever,' " and Yensie 
 whispered through her tears, " Amen."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " Thy power and love my love and trust, 
 Make one plac" everywhere." 
 
 GEOKGE HEKBEBT. 
 
 HE great storm delayed the bridal tour and 
 Harry, with a strange shrinking from ap 
 pearing in the presence of death, delayed 
 his visit to the farm-house until the afternoon of 
 the funeral ; but Herbert found his way back the 
 morning after the wedding. 
 
 There was something very quieting in that 
 lo\ 7 ely marble face that lay half-turned upon the 
 pillow. It seemed much more like sleep than 
 death. Refreshing, reposeful sleep ; blessed -in 
 no way disturbed by dreams where angel forms 
 flitted, and spirit voices warbled ; for on her lips 
 was fixed the smile ineffable with which she 
 greeted the opening gates of paradise. 
 
 224
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 225 
 
 Herbert thought thus as he stood and gazed 
 feeling as one might within sight of home after 
 long wanderings. 
 
 " This is not death," he said, addressing Yensie 
 who stood beside him. "This is not death but 
 life : indestructible, unconquerable life ! She has 
 only passed beyond our love, ' into the larger loves 
 without the touch of woe.' " 
 
 The next day little Violet was buried. Very 
 simple were the services. At Mr. Walton's re 
 quest Herbert officiated, Mr. Goodale being con 
 fined to the house. 
 
 Down through the deep snow was dug for her a 
 grave, as she had requested, beside the mossy tree 
 trunk where Yensie loved to sit, under the trees 
 where first she met her dear Mr. Harry and Mr. 
 Herbert. And going back to the farm-house from 
 the grave Yensie began to feel that utter desola 
 tion so familiar to all hearts which, stricken by 
 death, find the old home repulsive, and the old 
 life but emptiness, because one is not who once 
 gave home its cheerfulness, and common things 
 their grace. 
 
 The day after the funeral the bridal party left 
 Wynn, and Harry having said his farewell to 
 Yensie went too. 
 
 He had felt strangely towards the fair girl 
 throughout this trouble after the blow fell. That 
 calm uplifting the, Christian receives in the hour of 
 sorrow awed him and proved an effectual barrier
 
 226 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 in his approach to her. She seemed suddenly to 
 have become a denizen of another world as had 
 little Maude, and he could not rid himself of this 
 idea, or separate the two. 
 
 She was no longer happy, joyful Yensie Walton, 
 the girl he had learned to love. She was very dif 
 ferent, though not less dear ; and sadly puzzled, he 
 was almost glad that he had pledged his mother to 
 accompany his uncle, first South, then across the 
 Atlantic, hoping ere he returned she would be her 
 self again. 
 
 Three days after Harry's departure Herbert 
 said, " good-by." It grew very hard now to live 
 the old life and Yensie almost decided to go away 
 to school at once. 
 
 But a sight of Uncle John's bowing form and 
 whitening hair, to whose life ten years seemed sud 
 denly added, rebuked her selfishness, and she said, 
 " No, I will stay if God will help me, and be a 
 woman, a Christian, such as he (thinking of Gard- 
 enell) believes I am, worthy of his esteem." 
 
 And she was not sorry she had so decided. There 
 was plenty of work to be done, and she did her 
 share. Never daughter sought more carefully to 
 anticipate the wishes of her parents than she did 
 those of her aunt and uncle, laboring steadily, 
 conscientiously, and yet it was but hand-work. 
 
 Not that she intended it to be such. She ear 
 nestly desired to comfort them. But in the fact 
 that her own lips did not smile, her own voice for-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 227 
 
 got its melody, she failed utterly ; and to this 
 truth Fred suddenly awaked her one night. 
 
 She was sitting in the kitchen with folded hands 
 staring out of the window in a fashion common to 
 her of late, Jinks near by on the settle. In the 
 dining-room sat Aunt Sarah knitting she never 
 could be idle; Milly was reading a trashy book; 
 Uncle John, as was his habit now, with open 
 Bible on his lap, head resting on his hand, was try 
 ing to read the Word while failing of its meaning. 
 Fred only was idle, and it was his hand upon 
 her arm, his whisper in her ear that roused Yensie. 
 
 " Is little Violet happy ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Yes, dear, of course. Happier than you or I 
 can guess," was the reply as she stroked the red 
 hair. 
 
 " Then why ain't you happy, Yensie ? " Then 
 not waiting for an answer, unconscious of the 
 horne-thrust he had given her, " I thought perhaps 
 it wasn't true, what Mr. Gardenell said about 
 heaven because you are so different. I'm awful 
 homesick, Yensie. Do you s'pose every body'll be 
 sad forever ? It's worse now than the funeral, and 
 every day grows worse ; " and the little fellow 
 heaved a sigh. 
 
 " Poor little boy, I didn't know you felt so sad. 
 Would you like to sit on my lap ? " 
 
 " O Ennie ! will you let me ? " he cried, joy 
 fully, using the pet name caught from Maude. 
 " How good you are ! Do you s'pose you could
 
 228 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 love me a little ? Not like you did Violet, " he 
 added, quickly, as if that could not be possible, 
 " but a little, you know. I'll try to be real good if 
 you will." 
 
 " I love you a great deal now, Fred," said the 
 girl, tenderly drawing her arms closely about him. 
 It seemed so sweet to hold one in her lap again. 
 
 "If you'd please sing," he whispered, hesitat 
 ingly. " I always think I can be good when you 
 sing. I will try to be real good if you'll help me." 
 
 Yensie wondered if she could sing ; but Fred 
 went on : " Everybody's just awful. Jinks nearly 
 snapped my head off because I wanted to ride old 
 Nance; mother looks so cross I'm afraid of her, 
 and father says just nothing but ' poor boy, poor 
 boy,' to everything; then Mill she scolded because 
 I was slying off my sled to slide down hill. 
 When Violet was here she liked to see me have a 
 high old time, and if she's the same now I know 
 she's glad when I'm happy. Is it ever wrong to 
 be happy, Ennie ? " 
 
 " No, darling," kissing him. " What shall I 
 sing?" 
 
 " Anything," his head settling back on her 
 shoulder. " I say, Ennie, you're just boss, and I 
 love you." 
 
 Yensie smiled and began to sing. 
 
 " That's good," was the comment ; " but now 
 something jollier, Yensie." 
 
 Fred was sung to sleep that night. His last
 
 YENSEE WALTON. 229 
 
 sleepy words repaid his cousin. " You're nobby. 
 See if I don't lick Bob Simonds if he says again 
 that his Nell's as pretty as " but the sentence 
 ended in noddy-land. 
 
 Fred was not the only one benefited by that ef 
 fort to forget self. She did not see Aunt Sally's 
 knitting drop from her hands, but it did, while her 
 eyes grew dim with sweet remembrance ; Milly 
 closed her book, and Uncle John drank in each 
 word and sound, wiping his wet cheeks with his 
 red handkerchief. 
 
 That was the era of a new and better life. 
 Yensie's Bible verse that night was, " To him that 
 overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my 
 throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down 
 with my father in his throne." She implored for 
 giveness that night for the half-heartedness of her 
 labor for those about her, and for the selfish grief 
 which she had cherished. 
 
 The morning sun henceforth greeted her carol 
 already begun, and the cheerful breakfast table, 
 with its steaming fritters, found better appetites 
 than it was wont. 
 
 The spirit with which we labor has much to do 
 with results ; henceforth things changed. Not 
 that she did any more, but did it all so differently. 
 She did not always find it easy to be cheerful, she 
 longed sometimes to go away and weep over her 
 sorrow, but she had become an overcomer. 
 
 So the weeks grew to months and under the
 
 230 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 spell of her song her uncle found easier access to 
 the throne. The Bible verses too hard for him to 
 understand, the hymns made plain ; and doctrines 
 which had perplexed his brain found easy solution 
 to his heart, thus breathed in verse. 
 
 Every night now Yensie sang at Fred's bedside, 
 and just as regularly her aunt sat below with idle 
 knitting in her lap and half closed eyes ; and 
 Uncle John lay listening eagerly, and Jinks drew 
 his chair closer to the open door, left so by Mil 
 dred, that they might hear the better. 
 
 So life passed quietly, prosily, and Yensie lived 
 her better life by God's help every day, and fought 
 her battles nightly all alone. Unknown to any 
 but the loving, listening Saviour her cries for 
 strength to overcome arose, and the little attic 
 became a Bethel, and the ladder resting there with 
 its summit pierced the skies and messages of hope 
 and cheer, God's love to her and promises of aid 
 came over its rounds borne by swift-footed mes 
 sengers. The inner life grew stronger, the outer 
 fruit more robust, and those about her felt, if they 
 did not acknowledge this. 
 
 The weeks flew by and the winter term would 
 soon be ended and Alice Grey gone. Yensie had 
 seen but little of her friend since Violet's death 
 for Alice grew increasingly feeble, and felt it 
 quite enough for her strength to do what she 
 must, and Yensie's hands had never been so full.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 231 
 
 Since she had taken Fred to her heart, he had 
 added largely to her work. All his troubles and 
 perplexities were brought to her for solution ; all 
 accidents in the shape of soiled handkerchiefs and 
 torn pants, she was expected to make good ; and 
 difficult problems and tormenting geography les 
 sons must be made plain by her patient explana 
 tions. 
 
 Indeed, the whole family unconsciously began 
 to lean on her. While it was delightful to her to 
 have it so, she was thus often shut out from Miss 
 Grey's society only a few minutes' talk on the 
 Sabbath in the vestry, and a half hour now and then 
 granted her, and in those times she had never been 
 able to give vent to even a little of the pain and 
 loneliness gathering in her breast. 
 
 One morning late in February she arose with an 
 intense desire to see her friend. The day was 
 balm} r and spring-like, and every time she opened 
 the outer door and caught a draught of the fresh, 
 sweet air the longing grew more intense to be out 
 of the hot kitchen, out of the hard work, to be 
 able to do and go as she pleased. 
 
 She dropped a word before Mrs. Walton, show 
 ing her desire to get through early and spend the 
 afternoon with Miss Grey, but her aunt took no no 
 tice whatever of her words, and it did seem as if 
 there never was so much to do before. 
 
 Everything conspired to delay her, and in the af-
 
 232 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 ternoon when she thought all done her uncle came 
 in with his account-book for her to look over. 
 When the last item had been attended to, the last 
 column added, she pushed the book impatiently 
 from her and lifting her flushed face to the clock 
 found it was nearly four. 
 
 " It is 110 use," she said, bitterly, resting her fe 
 verish face 011 her hands, so disappointed she could 
 have wept. 
 
 Mrs. Walton saw the movement, heard her words, 
 as she stepped into the room, and stopping before 
 the table she said, kindly, "I would go just the 
 same, Yerisie. You can stay with Miss Grey all 
 night ; we shall not need you again before morn- 
 
 ing." 
 
 How quickly the brown head came up. " How 
 good you are," cried the impulsive child, tears ac 
 tually in her eyes now at these unusual words. " I 
 am so glad," and before long she was dressed and 
 ready to depart. 
 
 Had Yensie's words of praise thawed Aunt Sa 
 rah's ice ? Be that as it may, as the slight, girlish 
 figure halted for a minute before the door, she called 
 out, " You needn't hurry in the morning, we sha'n't 
 have much to do to-morrow," and darted back, 
 shutting the door as if she feared an answer. 
 
 There was a little snow on the ground, the air 
 had grown colder since morning, and the young 
 girl liked the sound of the frozen snow beneath her
 
 YENSLE WALTON. 233 
 
 feet. It seemed like companionship on that lonely 
 road, where everything was very still. 
 
 Suddenly, as she was about to turn into the vil 
 lage street, she swung around and took her way 
 straight up over the snowy path, so often trod in 
 other days, with Violet beside her, not halting until 
 she stood beside her old-time seat with the tiny 
 grave beside it. 
 
 Snow spotless, pure, undisturbed, covered the 
 little mound and spread its undefiled whiteness all 
 around where only a few months before her dar 
 ling plucked the springing flowers to deck Harry 
 Campbell's hat, and for Herbert's wee bouquet. 
 
 As she stood there remembrance of that day and 
 all they said about the sweet child she loved, and of 
 the long conversation prior to the coming of the 
 young men when Maude had told her of her prayer 
 to go, and begged her not to keep her, came over 
 Yensie ; and kneeling down beside the mound she 
 bowed her head and wept. 
 
 Wept that the past was past, and never could be 
 present again ; wept that her heart was so lonely ; 
 wept out the gathered, stifled, restrained pain of 
 many weeks. 
 
 When a little after she presented herself at Miss 
 Grey's door, the signs of tears were still upon her 
 face, for somehow the fountain loosed, so long held 
 in check, would overflow in spite of every effort at 
 control, and it had been with difficulty she retained 
 her self-possession, even on the street.
 
 234 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " My dear, dear child," said Alice, tenderly, 
 " what troubles you ? " and completely overcome 
 by the kindly tone, the maiden threw herself upon 
 the bed and wept and sobbed as if her heart would 
 break. 
 
 Alice drew a chair close to her side, but did not 
 speak to her. Now and again she laid a soothing 
 hand upon the half -exposed, flushed cheek, but that 
 was all. 
 
 By and by the sobs grew fainter, and less fre 
 quent, then they were lost in sighs, then subdued 
 altogether, and Yensie lifted her head and said, re 
 proachfully : 
 
 " I am so selfish, so thoughtless, Alice, to trouble 
 you with my grief, but," and she struggled for con 
 trol ; " but I have been restraining it so long, so 
 long trying to be cheerful and happy, while my 
 heart ached, that I could stand it no longer. O 
 Alic^, I miss her, I don't know how to live in the 
 world without her ; every hour of every day it be 
 comes harder, more unbearable. I know, I know 
 you will tell me she is safe, is happy, but, Alice 
 darling, I believe that now, already, always have, 
 and yet my heart will ache." 
 
 Miss Grey's gentle eyes were full of tears. " My 
 dear child, we are all alike, 'the spirit is willing, 
 but the flesh is weak.' You would not take her 
 from God, and yet 'tis hard to live without her." 
 
 " Yes, that is it, Alice. I am afraid sometimes it 
 may be wrong to grieve so for her."
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 235 
 
 " ' He remembereth we are but dust,' " quoted 
 Alice. " ' He remembereth. It is lawful to weep, 
 and after all, this sudden outbreak is but nature 
 avensrinsr herself, and beating down the barriers 
 
 o o o 
 
 with which you have tried to obstruct her free 
 course. Resignation does not mean tearlessness. 
 God forbid ! to be natural is seldom to be sinful. He 
 gave us tears to ease our pain. Jesus wept and for 
 ever dignified tearful grief. They who think it a 
 lack of manly or womanly strength to weep need to 
 study afresh the only perfect model of character 
 the world affords." 
 
 " Alice," questioned Yensie, " did you ever lose 
 a dear friend ? Your father is dead I know, but did 
 you ever have a little sister or friend whom you 
 loved as I have loved Violet ? " 
 
 " Yes, I had a sister, a very dear sister," answer 
 ed the lady, tremulously. 
 
 " Where is she now? Is she dead ? " queried the 
 girl interested. Miss Grey had never even intima 
 ted before, that she had ever had a sister and now 
 she spoke with seeming reluctance. 
 
 " Yes, she is dead," was the quiet reply. 
 
 " Did she die when she was young like my Vio 
 let ? " continued the girl. 
 
 " No, no," sighed Alice, softly, and then with a 
 vehemence unusual to her, she added, " God knows 
 out of the depths of an agonizing heart I have 
 often wished she had. O Yensie, my darling, my 
 darling," she cried, drawing the young girl to her
 
 236 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 embrace, while tears sprang to her eyes, " You 
 weep for little Maude as those with hope weep, but 
 I I ' 
 
 She did not finish what she seemed about to say, 
 but with touching pathos, as she took a slender, 
 girlish hand in both of hers, added more gently, 
 " I do not sorrow, my Yensie, for the little one. 
 She has left earth-life and its issues far behind her 
 arid entered the God-life whose experiences and 
 joys are not subject to Time's fluctuating breezes. 
 It is for you, my darling, I sometimes tremble, for 
 you I sometimes grieve ; for time is yet upon you 
 with all its terrible possibilities of sin and suffer 
 ing, of pain and grieving. Your peculiar temper 
 ament is fraught with great temptations, dangers ; 
 I sometimes shudder when I think one single 
 hour, one little word, may swing your life into new 
 channels of joy and pain, of untold responsibility." 
 
 " When reading in your face sometimes the 
 power that God has given you to will, to do, to 
 suffer, I almost wish I could stand over your last 
 resting place conscious that only this wee brittle 
 thread of life was all that separated us forever. 
 Yet do not think, dear child, this is because I have 
 no confidence in you or in my God. I know at 
 last your life must result in victory, its every ele 
 ment, even the rue and gall, enhance that victory ; 
 but, darling, I have suffered, and human-like, I 
 shrink from seeing the cup so bitter to my taste 
 pressed to my child's lips though lifted by a
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 237 
 
 Father's hand, and cry out ere I am aware, ' give it 
 to me, my Father, but spare her.' " 
 
 Yensie was sobbing softly, her head in Miss 
 Grey's lap, but her friend did not seem to notice 
 this. 
 
 "Yensie, my darling," she said, "tell me of 
 those young men who attended Violet's funeral. 
 Did they love her because they loved you mere ? 
 Are they nothing to you, or very much ? " 
 
 To say the maiden was astonished by the abrupt 
 questioning, would but poorly represent her feel 
 ings just then. The shapely head rose proudly 
 from its resting place ; the dark eyes flashed out 
 through their tears ; the young face flushed indig 
 nantly : How dare Miss Grey, how dare anybody 
 question her thus ? 
 
 " Alice how can you ask me ? " she cried, im 
 petuously. " What can they be to me ? " 
 
 " Whatever they may be to you," returned the 
 teacher quietly, " you are certainly very much 
 to at least one of them." 
 
 "And pray how can I help that?" cried the 
 young girl hotly ; " am I responsible for the feel 
 ings of every young man who chooses to fall in 
 love with me ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Miss Grey, calmly, " you are re 
 sponsible just so far as you fail to discourage that 
 feeling if not reciprocated." 
 
 " Then," said Yensie, still excitedly, " I am 
 expected to hail every young man who approaches
 
 238 TENSES WALTON. 
 
 my uncle's house and ask him if he comes on pur 
 pose to see me, or shall I label myself unapproach 
 able?" 
 
 " Yensie ! " Alice only spoke the one word, but 
 there were volumes of reproach in it. 
 
 " Dear Alice," said the girl more calmly, " it 
 seems so absurd for } T OU to talk to me like this ; I 
 am so young too young to dream of such things." 
 
 " True, 3'ou are young," was the reply, " yet 
 many as young as you take a false step here and 
 live to repent it through long years. If these 
 things had not come to you, darling, if I had 
 thought it possible no dreams of these young men 
 would ever cross your thoughts, I would never 
 have spoken thus." 
 
 " Then do not say another word, clear Alice," 
 pleaded the girl. " I thought you knew me better," 
 she said, rising and walking to the window. "I 
 am ambitious Alice Grey, ambitious ! See ! " she 
 cried, pointing to where the coming stars were 
 sparkling above her ; " I tell you my hopes, my 
 hopes," with proud emphasis on the personal pro 
 noun, " are not less high, or bright, or numerous 
 than those fair constellations." 
 
 " Others have aimed as high and failed," said 
 Alice, gently. 
 
 " But I will not," retorted the young girl with 
 glowing face and shining eyes ; " I will not. I tell 
 you I have too much ahead of me to spare the
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 239 
 
 time to think of love. That is for others, for me 
 is fame." 
 
 Miss Grey sighed. " Come here," she said ; 
 " come sit beside me, and let me tell you that after 
 all you are a woman, and woman's heart through 
 all the world and under any guise cannot be satis 
 fied with less than love. You have answered my 
 question however ; you do not love yet, with this 
 I will try to be satisfied." 
 
 But Yensie did not sit down. She walked up 
 and down the room nervously, her face radiant 
 with the aspirations throbbing so wildly through 
 each pulse. " O Alice I feel great powers stirring 
 within me," she said, "great possibilities, great 
 possibilities, and I must prove them. Sometimes 
 the world stretches out so temptingly, so glori 
 ously before me, I long to be done with school, 
 I pant for the girding for battle, for the noise of 
 conflict. I have no time to think of love, no 
 time." 
 
 " Unfortunately," said Alice Grey, " love waits 
 not time or season, it comes when it wills and stays 
 whether we will or not. If fame fail us love will 
 still satisfy if we possess it ; but an unsatisfied 
 heart can never be filled with earth's adulations. 
 Darling, it is in the affections a woman is made or 
 marred, built up or ruined, so I warn you." 
 
 " You do not understand me," said Yensie ; " no 
 one does." 
 
 Alice smiled, but rising she drew the young girl
 
 240 YENSIB WALTON. 
 
 to a seat and as she took both hands said, earnestly, 
 " I think, ray dear, I do understand you very well. 
 I would not undervalue your abilities, your capaci 
 ties. My darling, ever}*- new power I have seen de 
 velop in you I have hailed with trembling, for it 
 may be, and often is, but added power to suffer. 
 The more we have the more can we lose and the 
 more terrible is our loss when all goes. The more 
 delicate and intricate the machinery the more read 
 ily is it injured. I have thought a great deal of 
 that talk we had together while little Maude lay 
 waiting burial. You spoke of Farmer Boyd. His 
 very bluntness of perception would make it impos 
 sible for him to suffer acutely. That which could 
 hurt a nature like yours, he could not comprehend 
 or fathom. I think sometimes, in like manner, that 
 it is because we, the best of us are so much coarser 
 in our organization, so much more blunted in our 
 perceptions than our Saviour, that we cannot more 
 fully understand his human agony. There is some 
 thing wonderful in this ability to suffer, something 
 incomprehensible. It would seem as if the finer 
 the sensibilities, the more delicate the organization, 
 the more susceptible to every thrill of higher 
 thought and feeling, the so much more like God it 
 seemed ; the so much more it could, must, yea is 
 called upon, to endure. The harp of a thousand 
 strings responds to a master touch and so Jehovah's 
 hand presses most often the finer instruments (if 
 we may so speak), the nebel dsdr, that he may in-
 
 YENSIB WALTON". 241 
 
 voke the sweeter melody. We might not know, 
 the world might never know the deepest, purest, 
 holiest depths of redeemed humanity without that 
 forceful pressure. 
 
 "Strike, Thou the Master, we thy keys, 
 The anthem of the destinies ! 
 The minor of thy loftier strain, 
 Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, 
 Thy will be done!'" 
 
 There was unbroken silence in the chamber for a 
 few minutes, and when Yensie spoke, her tone was 
 hushed and awe-struck. 
 
 " Alice, you frighten me. I ask God so often to 
 make me pure and holy, to give the greatest possi 
 ble likeness to himself here and a home with him 
 hereafter, and it is not all lip-service. Yet at times 
 this restless ambition so gees the better of me. 
 What may not I have to bear to have my own 
 prayers answered ? " 
 
 " He knows, my darling," was the reply. " ' Per 
 fect love casteth out fear,' trust him ; he will 
 answer your petition, he must, but be sure he will 
 not give you more than you can bear. Just where 
 the cloud becomes too black, the burden too heavy 
 to bear, he will appear, supplementing, reinforcing ; 
 not always lifting you out of the pain, but alwa}*s 
 giving you grace sufficient for its bearing. I have 
 thought it was worth all the anguish and the hard 
 ship, that realization comes to us ever and again 
 amid the difficulties apparently insuperable, of the
 
 242 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 colossal strength, the infinite wisdom back of all, 
 under all, supporting all. Then too, darling, we 
 only live one day at a time ; the apostle saj's, ' suf 
 ficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' Let us 
 thank him for to-day's grace, and trust him for to 
 morrow's. Trouble comes soon enough without 
 forecasting, and thank God his grace comes also. 
 We can do all things through Christ which strength- 
 eneth us, yes, and bear all things." 
 
 Then with arms about each other they sang, 
 " Nearer my God to thee." 
 
 As they ended the verse beginning, " But if on 
 angel wing cleaving the sky," Yensie whispered, 
 " Alice, all have not the discipline of pain. My lit 
 tle Violet went out from earth before its heaviest 
 burdens touched her. She was not called through 
 the travail of Gethsemane." 
 
 " No, there is another preparation for some before 
 they become perfect immortals, that is purified souls 
 in glorified bodies," replied Miss Grey. " Only 
 when Christ comes does the resurrection power 
 make immortality perfect. In that life between so 
 purely spiritual, our departed may be receiving the 
 same fitness that in other ways we receive here. 
 Let us be trustful, and whether here or there, in 
 earth or paradise, still praise him that the good work 
 may go on. Some day seeing the 'need be ' of our 
 sorest discipline, out of full, overflowing hearts, 
 we shall thank him for all. Yea, even here often 
 times we catch a glimmer of the meaning of such
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 243 
 
 pain. This night," she continued, lifting her rev 
 erent eyes upward, " this night I thank him for the 
 every pang, the every sorrow that has touched my 
 life, ' for out of my bitterest bitter, I've gathered 
 my sweetest sweet,' and without it he only knows 
 what I might have been." 
 
 " Alice," questioned the young girl, " would it 
 pain you very much to tell me a little of your life 
 and of your sister ? " 
 
 "It is a very sad story, darling," replied the 
 lady, " and yet I would not shrink from it if it 
 might do you good. I have thought sometimes it 
 might, but the story is long and it is growing late." 
 
 " I am to stay all night, I forgot to tell vou be 
 fore," interrupted the girl. 
 
 Miss Grey did not speak for a moment, then she 
 stopped and kissed the young face lifted to hers. 
 " This is the time, perhaps ; God grant you may 
 profit by the sad recital." 
 
 So after supper, sitting together in the dart, with 
 only the stars for company, Alice Grey began.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ' O gold of trial I O crimson of pain ! 
 Touches of frost and the chilling rain 
 Have wrought out your beautiful coloring 
 Life is made perfect through suffering." 
 
 L. J. D. 
 
 S I have told you before," said Alice, my 
 father died when I was quite young and 
 my sister not much more than a babe. 
 He was a sea-captain and, lost in mid-ocean, 
 lea-rang my mother and her two children to fight 
 their own way through the world. 
 
 " Mother owned the little sea-side cottage where 
 I was born and had beside a small patrimony, and 
 by careful management and occasional additions 
 resulting from her own exertions she brought us 
 up well and educated us. 
 
 " I had always been an ambitious child, and 
 knowing this, and as well, my father's intentions 
 concerning me, she did her utmost towards giving 
 244
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 245 
 
 me the culture I craved, sending me for two years 
 to boarding-school after I had received what my 
 pastor's wife at the little village had thought ne 
 cessary as a preparation. " My sister Lois was four 
 years younger than I, much more active and mis 
 chief-loving and withal very beautiful. She was 
 the idol of my childhood. To twine her curls and 
 decorate her person and so present her to my 
 friends was the delight of my younger years, and 
 it was much the same as we drew nearer woman 
 hood. If my darling was well-dressed and adorned 
 I was satisfied, though I might be barely passable. 
 
 " She was a quick, bright girl, learning readily, 
 but caring little to exert herself ; and so it hap 
 pened that I carried her over the harder parts of 
 her studies writing many of her compositions, and 
 translating her Latin. 
 
 " She was ardent and affectionate, and more 
 than repaid rne with her love. She had an exceed 
 ingly sweet, clear voice. I think perhaps my first 
 attraction to you, darling, was that I fancied your 
 voice resembled hers, though so much more power 
 ful and pliant. 
 
 " When I was about twenty, Lois sixteen, 
 mother let the cottage and moved to the city. 
 She had quite run through with her small estate 
 and thought we would find better employment in 
 the great metropolis. 
 
 " In various ways I had earned a little and was 
 possessor of a small sum of money, enough to pay
 
 246 YENSEB WAI/TOF. 
 
 for a finishing course at school, and by sewing at 
 night I added to the home-fund while pursuing my 
 studies. 
 
 " Lois had tired of school and wished to learn a 
 trade, and my mother yielded to her entreaties, 
 and she entered a millinery establishment. 
 
 " While away at school, two years before, I had 
 formed an attachment for a young man named 
 Walter Wilde. O darling, there is music in his 
 name even yet to me ! He was handsome, tal 
 ented, good I thought, and when he asked me to 
 be his wife I pledged my hand where my heart 
 had already surrendered itself, most joyfnlly. 
 
 " Yensie, I can never tell you how I loved that 
 man. Some day you may learn from experience 
 what I mean when I say I would have willingly 
 laid down the most cherished hopes of my life, the 
 tenderest ties that bound me, to please him, yea, 
 hesitated not to die could he thereby be made hap 
 pier. He was ambitious, though poor, and had the 
 law in view, and my great desire was to make my 
 self worthy to be his wife ; to obtain the outside 
 polish in which I knew he so delighted, that I 
 might stand beside him one of whom he need not 
 be ashamed. 
 
 ' I had rejoiced in the thought of coming to the 
 city because I should be near him, for there he re 
 sided ; and with pride and delight I introduced 
 him to my mother and sister who had never met 
 him before though they were acquainted with the
 
 YENSEB WALTON. 247 
 
 relations that stood between us. I felt so proud 
 that night of my lady mother, my beautiful, light- 
 hearted sister, and he seemed delighted with them. 
 
 " The first few months after our arrival in the 
 city, Walter visited our house constantly ; by and 
 by less frequently, and at length only once or 
 twice in the course of weeks. But this caused no 
 uneasiness on my part. He pleaded business, and 
 much as I regretted his absence, I only felt that as 
 he said, it only hastened the day when he should 
 be able to claim me altogether, and, foolish child, 
 I loved him better and thanked God. 
 
 " So one year passed. Lois would tell me some 
 times, laughingly, that she walked to the shop 
 with my gentleman, and inquire if I did not feel 
 jealous. But their roads crossed and I never 
 dreamed of danger or harbored a jealous pang. 
 
 'But my sister was changing fast. She was 
 out more evenings. My mother opposed this at 
 first, but finally yielded as she generally did to 
 this her favorite child, and as Lois always had 
 some plausible excuse a concert, fair or friendly 
 gathering I think my mother did not feel alarmed. 
 
 " It was in my fond heart fear first took root. 
 This child was life of my life ; I could have yielded 
 anything to enhance her joy, unless indeed this 
 new great treasure of Walter Wilde's love, and 
 somehow I felt, between us was growing up some 
 barrier, what, I could never understand some
 
 248 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 great cloud shadowing the freedom of intercourse 
 that had hitherto been ours. 
 
 " I tried to break this down, to step over it, but 
 vainly ; for though she laughed at my words of 
 trembling, it was constrained laughter, unlike the 
 overflowing mirth of other days, and somehow my 
 darling seemed slipping from my grasp. 
 
 " Once it seemed to me that my little sister might 
 be in love, as I had been, and feared to tell me. So 
 one night after we had retired (we always slept 
 together) I threw my arms about her and chided 
 her for lack of confidence. She shrank from me as 
 if I had bitten her, and turned her back without 
 one word. Ah me ! I could not understand it 
 then ! But from the shadow thus creeping between 
 us two I turned with fresh delight, to revel in a 
 love I fondly thought beyond the power of blight 
 or death, a harbinger of sure coming bliss. 
 
 " I saw less and less of Walter ; Lois became 
 more and more reserved ; even my mother noticed 
 her unusual taciturnity, for she had been so gay a 
 child, so musical a bird. 
 
 " At last the blow fell. At the very worst I 
 never dreamed it could have been so bad. Lois 
 came home one evening feeling ill. She ex 
 cused herself and retired, declaring she only need 
 ed rest. But I feared she was very sick and after 
 she was in bed sought her side, begging to know 
 if there was anything I could do, anything I could 
 get for her.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 249 
 
 " She answered me very crossly, poor little girl, 
 poor little girl, and going away in tears I sent moth 
 er to her side. But she would have neither of us, 
 only requesting to be left quiet and asking my 
 mother to share her bed with me that night as she 
 would rest better alone. 
 
 " Yensie, before the morning broke Lois was 
 dead ! Yes, in the night mother and I were awak 
 ened by groans proceeding from her room. We flew 
 to her bedside, and summoned a physician. In a 
 little while a babe was born. I, in my innocence, 
 and mother in her guilelessness, had never thought 
 of this, and Lois was very feeble. 
 
 " The doctor left a quieting potion and departed 
 hoping, he said, to find her better in the morning. 
 The dear girl lay all night speechless and yet with 
 wide-open, yearning eyes fixed always upon me. 
 O Yensie, I shall never forget those eyes, those 
 dear blue eyes I loved so well following me with 
 such a look of heart-breaking interest. 
 
 " Once I stooped over her and whispered, ' Lois, 
 dear sister, it is all right, I love you, darling,' but 
 she only answered, faintly, ' you don't know.' Just 
 after mother asked me quietly if I knew who 
 baby's father could be. She caught the question, 
 and said distinctly : (how that knell rings in my 
 ears ! ) * Walter Wilde. ' 
 
 " I turned away my head, I thought that I was 
 dying. My mother seeing I was faint pushed me
 
 250 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 into a chair and lay my head back beside the shin 
 ing locks of Lois. 
 
 " She put her hand up feebly to my face and 
 whispered ' forgive.' Thank God I had grace 
 enough to kiss the hand and tell her she was for 
 given. She smiled and pointed to her babe. I 
 understood and told her I would love and guard it 
 as my own ; then she shut her eyes as if satisfied 
 and turned her head upon the pillow as if to sleep. 
 
 " I crushed the bitter anguish of my own heart 
 back that hour, and whispered to her of the 
 blessed Christ, the forgiveness prepared for all who 
 only trust, who only look to him. She did not 
 speak, but she opened her eyes just .once and 
 looked at me and they were full of tears. When 
 the morning dawned I folded her dead hands on 
 her pulseless breast and crept away to talk with 
 God. 
 
 "I had called myself a Christian, Yensie darling, 
 before this ; I had taken on Christian baptism the 
 winter after I pledged myself to Walter Wilde. 
 f think it was the thankfulness that pervaded my 
 heart at thought of Walter's love that made me 
 first love God ; but darling, I never realized how 
 God loved me. 
 
 "At first it seemed to me as if all hope had 
 faded out of life. I thought the stars would never 
 shine again, and how I longed to die. But my 
 poor old mother was taken very sick under the 
 shock, and after the funeral my time was too fully
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 251 
 
 occupied between her sick-bed and the babe to 
 think much, and indeed I could not think, I was 
 stunned, numbed. 
 
 " Once only after did I see Walter. My mother 
 had fully recovered then. I saw him first as he 
 approached the house. My mother ordered me 
 sternly from the room and turned to meet him. I 
 have felt sorry sometimes since I did not stay. 
 What passed between them I never knew, all she 
 told me was that he said, he should have been 
 there earlier but was away from the city, and that 
 he offered to take or support his boy, bpth of 
 which offers my mother met with indignant 
 refusals. 
 
 "The rest is soon told. In getting ready to 
 return to our old cottage home I had reason to 
 look over Lois' little treasures, and in a box I 
 found, with a gold ring, a slip of folded paper 
 which proved to be a marriage certificate ; Lois 
 was the wife of Walter Wilde. When my mother 
 saw it she said ; ' he told me this but I thought he 
 lied.' 
 
 " O little girl, I cannot tell you all I thought 
 then. He loved my sister doubtless, loved her ; 
 and had it not been for me they would have been 
 happy together and my mother's darling still alive. 
 How gladly then I would have exchanged places 
 with the dead to restore her to his arms. Oh, 
 mine was true love, and true love can sacrifice 
 itself, and had he asked me for his freedom, I
 
 252 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 could and would have given it to him. But now 
 my mother was broken-hearted, my sister dead, 
 he, who was to me more than life, a wanderer, and 
 I I the innocent cause of all. 
 
 " But the dear Lord knew what I best needed ; 
 and he drew me so closely to him in those months 
 of pain, that I never dare regret them. In our 
 humble cottage home I reared my sister's boy and 
 in his love my heart renewed itself. What a little 
 comforter he was ! and yet sometimes my heart 
 trembled while I gazed on him, for with his 
 mother's grace, he inherited his father's eyes and 
 winning voice, and I could better see him die than 
 live and sin. 
 
 " Teaching a few scholars, sewing, writing, I 
 earned enough to keep us through three years and 
 then our little babe folded his hands and slept, and 
 we laid him in the Village church-yard. My 
 health, which had been failing, demanded an 
 inland air, and mother wrote to Judge Grey, a 
 distant relative of father's and he obtained for me 
 this school. You know much of my life since. 
 Now I am going back to mother and she will be 
 glad to welcome me I trust. You, dear child, 
 have been a constant joy to me, God grant you all 
 the blessedness compatible with your highest good, 
 and spare you your teacher's pain." 
 
 Yensie had not moved once since Alice began 
 her story, but with her head in Miss Grey's lap, 
 her eyes riveted on the pale, resigned face, dis-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 253 
 
 tinctly visible in the moonlight, she listened 
 breathlessly ; a great, dull, heavy pain taking pos 
 session of her heart as the story continued. Now 
 as Miss Grey lay her hand gently on the upturned 
 face, she caught it convulsively and pressing kiss 
 after kiss upon it cried out passionately : 
 
 " How could he love anyone else better ? How 
 dare he treat you. so ? O Alice, you don't think, 
 you cannot surely, that I would act as Lois did ? " 
 
 " No, my darling, I have no fear of that ; but 
 rather that when you love it will be so wholly, so 
 desperately, that to lose your love or find him un 
 worthy, will wreck you utterly. Remember love, 
 these words of one : 
 
 ' O, slow of heart, and faithless they 
 Who garner all their little world of wealth 
 In one frail, mortal bark! ' " 
 
 " God is not good Alice, not kind to make you 
 suffer so." 
 
 " Hush, hush, my darling, this is sin, and there 
 fore worse than suffering," said Alice, gently. 
 
 " O Alice how could you bear it, how could you ?" 
 said the girl, " I should have died." 
 
 " We cannot die just when we will, my darling. 
 Gladly in those days I would have shut my eyes 
 and slept, but this was not to be. He who knows 
 best designed it otherwise, and ofttimes since I 
 have met you, I have thanked my God for not 
 heeding my prayers."
 
 254 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " And yet," persisted the girl, " I cannot under 
 stand how you could bear it." 
 
 " The furnace heat was very great at first," said 
 Miss Grey, " but ' the form of the fourth ' was there, 
 and after awhile I forgot the pain in studying His 
 glorious presence." 
 
 " O darling Alice," said Yensie, tearfully, " who 
 ever was like you ? who ever can be again ? to bear 
 so much so patiently." 
 
 " But, my child, I was not always patient," was 
 the reply. "I learned obedience by the things 
 which I suffered, and many have borne as bitter, 
 yes more rueful trials." 
 
 " Impossible ! " said the girl, emphatically. 
 
 " No darling, not impossible. Had I married 
 Walter and then discovered his weakness, how 
 much more terrible. Better far to have lost an idol 
 than having throned it to find it clay. I had built 
 too high, my child, for all my building was to self ; 
 my fortune as his wife, our joy together ; all selfish, 
 all selfish! Thank God the top stone was not set 
 and so it was easier to undo the work. To-day I 
 thank him, thank him ! Not that Walter Wilde 
 was faithless, but that he was unmasked to me be 
 fore it was too late. Out of that bitter experience 
 lias been learned one lesson worth it all, I never 
 count self ' now.' " 
 
 There was a long, unbroken silence, then Miss 
 Grey rose and drawing the curtain proceeded to 
 light the lamp.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 255 
 
 " Alice, why not go to bed without a light to 
 night," suggested Yensie. 
 
 " I have something to sho\v you, dear, and it may 
 be easier to-night when this is all fresh, then we 
 will bury it again, darling." 
 
 A little after, going to a box, she unlocked it and 
 drew hence a tiny case. Touching a spring it 
 opened and laying it in Yensie's hands the lady 
 said, simply, " This is Walter as I first knew him." 
 
 It was indeed a fascinating face that smiled up 
 into Yensie's. Not regularly handsome but so 
 bright, so eager, so winning. Yensie did not won 
 der at her friend's choice, for though there was 
 weakness written about the mouth there was proud 
 ambition as well, and the dark eyes had wondrous 
 depths of beauty. 
 
 Long and earnestly the maiden regarded that 
 pictured face, then she looked up to the marble one 
 above. " It is hard to believe that this man sinned 
 thus, Alice," she whispered. 
 
 " This man did not sin," said her friend, gravely. 
 " This is his best self, the Walter I loved and still 
 love ; the other, the sinful Walter, died out of my 
 heart years ago." And with one earnest glance at 
 the mirrored face, Alice Grey shut up the case and 
 locked it out of sight ; and drawing a chair to the 
 table read from her Bible the ninety-first psalm. 
 
 Its words of soothing fell like oil upon the troub 
 led heart of the maiden and when a little after, 
 they knelt, and Miss Grey lifted up her voice in
 
 256 
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 prayer a restfulness came over the spirit of the 
 young girl, a trustfulness she had not felt before. 
 Surely He who had led her teacher thus through 
 swelling waters forever nearer to himself could and 
 would guide her feet also. She fell into peaceful 
 slumber that night on Alice Grey's bosom, but the 
 morning's dawn found the gentle woman still wake 
 ful ; the throbbing heart again so fully roused would 
 not be stilled to rest.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " A glance, a srnile I see it yet ! 
 A moment ere the train was starting." 
 
 J. G. SAXE. 
 
 LICE Grey had always been dear to Yensie 
 Walton, but from that hour of revelation 
 the tie that bound them was strengthened 
 a thousand fold. By every sweet device the maiden 
 strove to woo her friend to forgetfulness, chid 
 ing herself that she had asked the recital of such 
 agony. 
 
 Realizing more fully than ever the frailty of her 
 teacher, she sought to make every circumstance of 
 life bend to her desire to be with her when she 
 might, and she was not unsuccessful. But early in 
 April she bade her loved friend a tearful good-by, 
 though not before she had promised to write to her 
 257
 
 258 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 often, and to spend a portion of her vacations at 
 the sea-side cottage. 
 
 At the farm-house the stir of spring was increased 
 by the preparations going on for Yensie's de 
 parture to school, for Mr. Walton had settled all 
 the preliminaries, and declaring she must compare 
 favorably with her school-mates, had spent a whole 
 day in the city shopping, and brought home with 
 him the village dress-maker. 
 
 Fred's lamentations were loud and long, his pro 
 testations of undying affection characteristic. The 
 morning of her departure he presented her with a 
 very suspicious looking box with sundry and oft- 
 repeated directions, among which one especially em 
 phasized was, that she should not lift the cover un 
 til the train had left the depot. Yensie was very 
 obedient, although a decided little " tick, tick,"was 
 kept satisfying yet sharpening her curiosity. 
 
 Her uncle gave her a neat little portemonnaie with 
 a few bills in it, to buy sweet-meats with, he said, 
 and for the first time since childhood Yensie found 
 herself a traveller. 
 
 It was new but delightful at first and she busied 
 herself in studying the faces of the passengers, an 
 employment she had always found charming. She 
 wondered now if that pale-faced thoughtful-eyed 
 woman had not some secret sorrow stowed awa} r out 
 of sight ; if the buxom Irish girl did not feel quite as 
 smart as her mistress ; and what could be passing 
 through the mind of the old gentleman who sat
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 259 
 
 with compressed lips and frowning brows just op 
 posite ? 
 
 It was a kindly, benevolent face and reminded 
 her of some other face, but where she could not re 
 call. She watched the gentleman narrowly every 
 movement of his thin hands, ever} r change of his 
 countenance. 
 
 When he smiled at the cross baby held by a poor, 
 tired-looking woman and hunted his pocket to find 
 it a rosy-cheeked apple, the sternness so vanished 
 from his face, it so blossomed into beauty, as to 
 bring before her instantly the face of Herbert Gar 
 denell. 
 
 She was not surprised therefore when a little 
 after, as passengers crowded in at a station, and he 
 took a seat behind her, to hear him answer in reply 
 to some question from the florid gentleman beside 
 him : 
 
 " Gardenell sir, Gardenell, I stop at D , where 
 
 I expect to meet my son." 
 
 He was Herbert's father, she felt sure, she did not 
 wish to listen to the conversation going on behind 
 her, but could not help it well. The next she 
 heard after the shrill whistle had ceased and the 
 train started again, was in the same voice, " Yes sir, 
 he is a student at the Theological Seminary," and 
 after that a stiff discussion followed on theological 
 differences, to which the girl found herself listening 
 eagerly. 
 
 The old gentleman seemed to ground his opin-
 
 260 YENSIE -WALTON. 
 
 ions so clearly on a biblical basis, and held him 
 self so courteously yet so unswervingly to a tri 
 umphant issue to the mind of the one listener, that 
 clearly did the decision rest with her the portly 
 gentleman must have found himself defeated. 
 
 Yensie was to change cars at D but as the 
 
 train rumbled into the station the noise of the 
 whistle, the shouting of the hackmen, the nasal ac 
 cent of the conductor, all helped to confuse her 
 and she felt quite uncertain as to the situation. 
 
 A few started to their feet, our young- friend 
 
 among them. " Is this D ? " she inquired of a 
 
 gentleman elbowing along. He did not answer her, 
 but Mr. Gardenell did. 
 
 " Yes dear, this is D ; do you wish to stop 
 
 here?" 
 
 " I clfenge cars here for L ," she said, and in a 
 
 few moments they stood together on the platform. 
 
 " Can you tell me how soon the car starts for 
 
 L ? " she inquired, " and whether it is from this 
 
 depot ? " 
 
 "I don't know. My son will know, however. 
 He will be here presently. Ah, there he is now," 
 and before she could say a word Herbert came for 
 ward, unmistakable pleasure as well as surprise on 
 his face on beholding his father's companion. 
 
 The old gentleman started forward a little to 
 greet him. " My dear boy," he said, eagerly, then, 
 as if remembering Yensie, " here is a young lady 
 who wishes to know about the train for L ."
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 261 
 
 " In ten minutes from the other track. Yensie, I 
 am so glad to see you. Father, let me introduce 
 you to a friend, Miss Walton, whom I met last 
 summer at Wynn." 
 
 The stately old gentleman shook hands cordially, 
 and Herbert left her with him while he sought her 
 baggage and had it re-checked. 
 
 " You have saved me much trouble, Mr. Gard- 
 enell," she said blushing, "and I thank you." 
 
 " I am very happy in having the privilege," was 
 his reply, and strolling up and down, a gentleman 
 on either side of her, the ten minutes passed very 
 quickly and pleasantly. It seemed all too soon 
 that she found herself waving her handkerchief 
 from the car window, while the gentlemen stood 
 where she had left them until the train was out of 
 sight. 
 
 " A very pretty and pleasant young lady," said 
 the old gentleman. " What is she to you, my 
 son?" 
 
 " Everything," was the prompt rejoinder. The 
 young man was conscious of the half-curious, half- 
 troubled glance of his father. 
 
 " Herbert, be careful where you bestow your 
 affection." 
 
 " Is love ever careful, father? " questioned the 
 youth. " Is not this young lady in every way my 
 worthy ? " 
 
 " She is certainly very charming in form and 
 feature my boy," assented the elder.
 
 262 YENSIE WALTON". 
 
 " Not more so than in mind and soul ; she is 
 rareh r gifted," said the young man, warmly. 
 
 " A gifted woman is apt to be ambitious," urged 
 the father. 
 
 Herbert smiled. 
 
 " Love will uproot, overtop ambition, in my 
 woman's heart, father, and then it will be twice 
 welcome. You forget what a woman has written ; 
 a gifted, ambitious woman : 
 
 ' Art is much, but Love is more! 
 
 O art, my art, thou'rt much, but Love is more 1 
 
 Art symbolizes heaven, but Love is God and makes heaven.'" 
 
 The old gentleman smiled at his son's enthusi 
 asm. " Are you quite sure, my boy," he said, 
 " that this you call love is such ? May it not rather 
 be the effervescence of youthful admiration ? 
 
 'Love's true flower before it springs, 
 Deep in the breast its fibre shoots 
 
 And clasps the heart and round it clings, 
 And fastens by a thousand roots.' 
 
 " I can quote poetry you see as well as you. Did 
 you ever read these lines of Moore's ? 
 
 ' To sigh, yet feel no pain, 
 To weep, yet scarce know why, 
 To sport an hour with beauty's chain, 
 Then throw it idly by; 
 To kneel at many a shrine, 
 Yet lay the heart on none ;
 
 YENSEE WALTON. 263 
 
 To think all other charms divine 
 But those we just have won; 
 This is love careless love 
 Such as kiudleth hearts that rove. 
 
 ' To keep one sacred flame 
 Through life unchilled, unmoved, 
 To love in wintry age the same 
 As first in youth we loved : 
 To feel that we adore 
 With such refined excess, 
 That though the heart would break with more, 
 We could not live with less; 
 This is love, faithful love 
 Such as saints might feel above I ' " 
 
 " Father, you wrong Miss Walton by thinking 
 any man could offer her less than the last named 
 devotion ; you wrong me to think I could ever 
 offer less to any woman whom I sought to woo." 
 said Herbert, a little hotly. 
 
 " We cannot always read ourselves, Herbert," was 
 the reply. " I offered less to a woman once, not 
 knowing. Well for me, she saved me the possible 
 consequences." 
 
 " Be sure your son will not repeat your mistake 
 sir," was the grave reply, and the old gentleman 
 said no more. He had hoped his boy would fix 
 his affections on the little pla} r mate of his child 
 hood and was still inclined to think this a passing 
 fancy. 
 
 He did not know his son. His mother had read 
 him better. Resembling his father much in form
 
 264 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 and feature, possessing all his strong mental traits, 
 his heart was warm and tender, and his social 
 nature but the intensified counterpart of his moth 
 er's. His little mother, whose voice was soft, and 
 low, and breezy, whose step fell light as down ; but 
 whose heart clung tenaciously to its beloved with 
 an undying affection which could sacrifice itself 
 unhesitatingly for its object but could never cease 
 to exist. 
 
 Meanwhile, Yensie had new faces to study, 
 new scenery to scan, and wonderful thoughts to 
 think suggested by the telegraph wires stretching 
 all along the road, and by the swiftness with which 
 she traveled. Thoughts of man's great powers, 
 God-given, which thus grasp and control the very 
 elements ; and from this, back to the father she 
 had just left, apparently so worthy of his son, this 
 son who would do honor to a throne. 
 
 She felt her heart throb with joy that she had 
 met him thus for this little minute, felt the clasp 
 ing of his hand, looked again into his eyes, spoken 
 to his father. 
 
 How much richer he was than she could ever be, 
 with such a parent to guard and love him. He 
 had a mother, too, and she was motherless ; an 
 orphan, bound to a strange school, to new associ 
 ates and duties ; and, sobering beneath these 
 thoughts, the last hour of her ride was one of con 
 centrated prayer for grace to live religiously, 
 worthily, in this new home.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 265 
 
 Yes, she longed to be pure-hearted, truly relig 
 ions ! and somehow, unconsciously, tinging all her 
 r'esires was the thought of one, she counted really 
 pure, truly religious, whose life appeared to her 
 worthy in its every spring and enterprise. And 
 aspiring to God she somehow drew nearer to him ; 
 with the approbation of Jehovah it was sweet to 
 know would come his also. 
 
 Not that she thought these things as I have laid 
 them down or was even dimly conscious of their 
 presence, but they were there, for so clay mingles 
 with our purest gold and mars our highest aspira 
 tions. 
 
 Yensie was tired when she reached her destina 
 tion, and very glad when through with her first 
 interview with the principal and introduced to her 
 new room-mate. 
 
 It was all very strange, but Ruth Ingells was a 
 sweet, gentle girl who in every quiet, unassuming 
 way tried to make her room-mate welcome, and 
 quite sure no conversation was expected of her 
 until she felt disposed to it, she retired early and 
 soon fell into a deep slumber. 
 
 When she awoke next morning, Ruth had 
 already risen, and Yensie's first view of her was, as 
 with Bible on her lap, she sat by the window 
 studying its precepts. 
 
 " I have a Christian room-mate ; how thankful I 
 am," she thought, fearing to move lest Ruth 
 should be disturbed. But Ruth soon discovered 
 the open eyes.
 
 266 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " You will have to dress quickly, the bell for 
 prayers will soon sound. I should have waked you 
 before but I knew you must be tired. I hope you 
 are well rested this morning," she said, sweetly, 
 coming toward the bed ; and our impulsive little 
 friend threw her arms about her neck, kissing her 
 as she whispered, " God is good to give me a Bible 
 room-mate." 
 
 That was the beginning of a blessed acquaint 
 ance. There is no need to dwell upon Yensie's 
 school life, it was not very unlike others. She had 
 been well fitted and took her place among the best 
 scholars in her class, ranking high from the first. 
 
 Among those earliest to welcome her were Kate 
 Bradford and Jessie Graf ton, both children of 
 wealthy parents, both bright and vivacious, yet 
 very different. 
 
 Kate was a clear-headed, out-spoken, decided 
 girl, and was quite ready to pronounce Yensie 
 proud at first because of her little natural reserve 
 and that air of superiority which was about her, 
 not hauteur or stateliness but an inexpressible some 
 thing, which is the birth-right of some, but can 
 never be purchased by either wealth or culture. 
 
 But Jessie had been quick to discern the real 
 spirit of the new-comer, and as quick in doing bat 
 tle with the prejudice fast taking hold of Kate. 
 She was a merry blonde, witty and saucy, and soon 
 converted Miss Bradford to her views concerning 
 their class-mate.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 267 
 
 Between Miss Crafton and Yensie sprang up a 
 very warm friendship which was destined to 
 strengthen as the years lapsed. 
 
 A happy, light-hearted child of wealth, Jessie 
 saw no need for great exertions and though she 
 usually stood high in her class she never excelled ; 
 and she looked upon Yensie with her clear, strong, 
 well-balanced mind, and powers of retention as 
 quite a marvel. 
 
 There was a deal of hero-worship in her as well 
 as in her more intellectual friend ; and this girl 
 who could invent a story for their hours of leisure, 
 or sing a song for every passing mood, yet loved 
 God so devoutly as never to be persuaded to 
 neglect a duty or do a wrong, took a high place in 
 her regard, and was worshipped in a sort of way, as 
 the embodiment of all the imagined virtues of her 
 heroes arid heroines. 
 
 Most of the girls shared this feeling in more or 
 less degree, and Yensie led them almost as she 
 willed ; all save sweet, gentle, apparently timid 
 Ruth Ingells, she led Yensie rather, and exerted an 
 influence over her greater than she ever imagined. 
 
 Ruth's life was very pure, her religion a part of 
 herself she lived it every day and her quiet pres 
 ence, her even walk were a blessing to her more 
 impulsive room-mate continually. 
 
 Ruth was what is termed an Advent, and they 
 soon found their beliefs differed in some respects 
 \v idely ; and while Yensie could not yield an inch
 
 268 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 in most of these sure God's word supported her 
 nevertheless, Ruth's sweet expectancy, her conscious 
 waiting for the appearing of her Lord, moved her 
 strangely, and troubled her not a little. 
 
 " Ruth, why are you called an Advent more than 
 I? Do not all Christians believe in the second 
 coming of Christ ? " 
 
 " Do you ?" was the simple rejoinder. 
 
 " Why, of course I do," replied Yensie, quickly. 
 
 " When ? " was the next question. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know, most any time," was the re 
 ply. " I suppose when God's time comes. I don't 
 know that I expect him while I live." 
 
 " And why not ? Has God's word told you it 
 would not be in your day ? " 
 
 " Why no. Neither has he said it would," was 
 the thoughtful rejoinder. 
 
 " No, but he has said ' Watch therefore, for ye 
 know neither the day ncr the hour.' Now, Yensie, 
 answer me truly are you watching ? " 
 
 Yensie did not answer immediately. Her heart 
 told her she had never watched as Ruth did. 
 
 " It is useless," continued Ruth, " to tell me to 
 watch for that which I am not to expect. I must 
 believe it is coming, may come soon, or I cannot ex 
 pect it. God does not ask impossibilities, and 
 it would be asking that, did he require me to watch 
 for one who was not likely to appear. To substi 
 tute death, and call that his coming, is to call him a 
 foe, for Paul tells me death is an enemy, the last en-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 269 
 
 smy ; my Christ is a friend, always a friend," and 
 Ruth lifted a rainbowed face to the sky. 
 
 " Ruth, I wish I could be as happy in the thought 
 as you are," sighed Yensie. " I love Jesus, I am 
 his child, redeemed ; I cannot doubt that ; and yet 
 I am tempted to sometimes, when I see you re 
 joicing in this hope. Ruthie dear," and Yensie's 
 voice sank low, "Ruthie dear, I have so many 
 things yet to do, so much unfinished work, it 
 almost seems," and she spoke as if ashamed to be 
 obliged to confess it, " as if his coming just at pres 
 ent would jostle with my plans, interfere somewhat 
 with that which I have laid out. You are not 
 troubled with ambitions, are you Ruth ? You have 
 no dear hopes ahead in this life ? " 
 
 " Yes I have," answered the girl, quickly, while 
 a rich blush swept over her face ; " I have hopes, 
 but not plans. Or perhaps you would call them 
 plans, Yensie ; but they all admit this peradventure, 
 they were all made with reference to the coming 
 of Christ and his will, and will not be disturbed in 
 the least only added to, enhanced, should he come." 
 
 " Then they must all be in respect to another 
 world," said Yensie, musingly, ' ; I suppose if I had 
 but one wish and that to glorify him, I should be 
 best pleased with that he gives, for surely he 
 knows what is best for his glory." 
 
 " Yes," said Ruth, " and, O darling Yensie, what 
 are any hopes we cherish in reference to this sin- 
 cursed world, that cannot better be fulfilled when
 
 270 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 the earth is filled with the glory of God as the 
 waters cover the sea ? All my hopes are in this 
 world, Yensie, for I am part of the whole creation 
 which ' groaneth and travaileth in pain," waiting for 
 the redemption." 
 
 " But the hopes I meant," said Yensie, " were alto 
 gether those that concern this life. O Ruth, I feel 
 I have only just begun to live, nay, never have 
 lived yet, my life has been so narrow, so circum 
 scribed. I am so anxious to do something great, 
 to serve my fellows, the world, the whole world ! 
 I hardly know how, but oh, I pant for it. Surely 
 God is willing I should realize a thing so blessed, 
 surely he will help me do when I want to do for 
 him, for his glory." 
 
 " Yes, if it is all for him, all for his glory. But, 
 Yensie, self is so insidious, it obtrudes itself into the 
 holiest. We are vain even of our sacrifices arid our 
 self-abnegations. We can never be sure there is no 
 self in our wishes and therefore no danger, unless 
 we are sure, his will would please us best." 
 
 " And his will may be to send his Son quickly," 
 said Yensie, filling out the thought. " O Ruth, it 
 seems sometimes as if my heart would break its 
 bonds to reach him, and then again the world and 
 ambition, show their heads, and I would delay his 
 coming for my work. My work ! " she continued 
 contemptuously, " as if my work could be men 
 tioned in his presence ! " 
 
 "'Go work in my vineyard,' Jesus said that,
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 271 
 
 whispered Ruth, " and over and over \ve are told 
 in Revelations, ' I know thy work,' and you re 
 member, it is said of the righteous dead, ' their 
 works do follow them.' Don't despise your work 
 Yensie, to-day's work. If it is all God gives you. 
 opportunity for, it is all he asks and the best for 
 you to do if he knows best, and it wouldn't do to 
 think or say he doesn't, for that would uncrown 
 him." 
 
 Yensie did not answer, but slowly began to dis 
 robe herself. It was rather a sorrowful, dissatis 
 fied face that looked at her out from the mirror. 
 
 Ruth said no more. She was one of those rare 
 characters who know when to be still, and can be 
 still when they know. But even Yensie's Bible 
 disturbed her that night, for she opened to Paul's 
 tender farewell letter and read : " Not to me only, 
 but unto all them also that love his appearing." 
 
 Was she one who did not love it ? This was the 
 question she lay awake long trying to solve. Alas, 
 she was trying to reconcile two unreconcilable 
 things God's will and hers. One must be given 
 up. Which ? 
 
 But as she tossed restlessly, Ruth, who had not 
 slept yet either, said : " Yensie, I want to share a 
 secret with you. I was afraid to tell 3-011 in the 
 lamp-light, because I am so young, only a year 
 older than you, but I have known John Whedon 
 ever since we were little children and after he 
 graduates I have promised to be his wife."
 
 272 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " When will he'graduate ? " whispered Yensie. 
 
 "In another year. So I shall not be here as 
 long as you. He is to be an Advent preacher 
 Yensie," she added, doubtfully. 
 
 Yensie only gave her a little squeeze. " I sup 
 pose you love him very much ? " she questioned. 
 
 " Next to God," was the answer. 
 
 What made Yensie think of Alice Grey and 
 what she said of love ? What made her think of 
 Herbert Gardenell and his intent to preach the 
 Gospel ? 
 
 " You are a good girl, Ruth," she said, " and 
 have a blessed ambition in view, to work with 
 Christ's servant humbly till He comes, and ready 
 to welcome Him at any hour. I wish my life was 
 as sure of its blessed issues as yours. It will be 
 sweet whichever way life goes with you but my 
 life looks like some great, restless sea, without 
 limits, or bands, or harbors." 
 
 " Yensie, darling, not without harbors," whis 
 pered her companion, softly. 
 
 " No, I was wrong. At length I must, I must 
 find anchorage within the celestial city. Ruth, I 
 have asked God to hold me to himself through any 
 discipline ; but life is not restful yet, not restful. 
 I wonder if I had such an earthly love as yours. 
 Ruth, if I should be more like you ? " 
 
 " No," said Ruthie, sweetly. " I am only a lit 
 tle brown linnet that must needs nestle under some 
 wing to be happy. You are an eagle made to soar
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 273 
 
 and pierce the clouds. But God made and takes 
 care of linnet and eagle equally. I am so glad." 
 
 "You are a. pure white dove, and will bring 
 nothing but blessing to any home," said Yensie im 
 petuously ; " and, O Ruthie, to-night I had rather 
 be a linnet with a heart to love me, and a nest to 
 shelter, than an eagle in his lonel} 7 eyrie, lofty 
 though it be." 
 
 Locked in each others arms they fell asleep that 
 night both happier, and the next day Yensie wrote 
 to Alice Grey telling her all her difficulty. In the 
 letter occurred the following : 
 
 " Dear Alice, I have searched the Word and 
 must believe this world our future home, and I 
 believe too that Jesus may come at any hour and 
 that I am expected to watch for his coming. But 
 my heart somehow resists what can I do ? " 
 
 Miss Grey's answer was fraught with blessing. 
 
 " Dear Yensie," she wrote, " I am glad you do 
 not accept all the doctrines of your friend. Some 
 are pernicious I fear, though she, herself must 
 be a dear, sweet child as you describe her; and 
 leaving a large margin for so impulsive and warm 
 hearted an advocate, I must still pronounce her 
 uncommon. 
 
 " About this earth as our future home I think I 
 Will not quarrel with you, my Bible reads very 
 much that way. About the dear Lord's coming I 
 think you are troubled unnecessarily my darling. 
 
 "Not that we are not expected to watch; we
 
 274 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 are. Not that it may not be possible he will come 
 soon, thank God I deem it so ; but that having 
 placed your soul in his hands you must leave it 
 there in all its moods of belief or unbelief, of 
 delight or sorrow. 
 
 " That your soul does not always respond rejoic 
 ingly to the truth is cause for mourning, but still 
 greater cause for giving it anew to God's keeping. 
 We can only believe, and believe gladly, as he 
 helps us to, as we trust him supremely. 
 
 " You cannot make yourself happy in what is nat 
 urally repugnant, but he can ; and you can ask him 
 to do so. Having asked him, wait ; not thrashing 
 yourself, that he does not hurry ; his time is the 
 best time, and it is never behind time. So before 
 he comes be sure having asked him he will make 
 you ready, so that when he comes you will love his 
 appearing. 
 
 "Remember the apostle's declaration, 'Ye have 
 need of patience ; ' and the dear Lord's injunction, 
 * in your patience possess ye your souls.' Be patient 
 with yourself. The century oak is not the growth 
 of a month or year, neither is a full-grown Christian 
 experience. 
 
 " The seedling oak is oak still though so insignifi 
 cant before its elders. My darling, you are only a 
 sapling yet, but of the best kind I trust. There 
 is oak there ; and God's breezes, rains, storms, 
 snows, and sunshine, will grow and harden you un-
 
 YENSIE TV ALTON. 275 
 
 til amid the trees of the forest I shall behold you 
 yet. 
 
 " I don't want my little child to worry about 
 anything, because worry never improves, while it 
 weakens. Trust God, trust him always, with and 
 in all things. Where your soul was converted, it 
 must be sanctified, and we must go for obedience 
 where we went for forgiveness. 
 
 " If you find any lack anywhere, go to the store 
 house, you have the keys, ' whatsoever ye ask, if ye 
 shall ask anything in my name,' &c. ; golden keys 
 to marvellous good, and to every good. 
 
 " Let me now give you two illuminated mottoes 
 to carry through life : ' Tell Jesus ' and ' He knows.' 
 They are apparent contradictions or inconsistencies. 
 'Tis seeming folly to tell to one who already knows ; 
 but you can see that your voluntary confidence 
 would be worth all the world to me, even if I knew 
 all it disclosed before. But, O my darling, take 
 these four words with you through life, one or the 
 other will fit into every joy and every sorrow of 
 life. 
 
 " When puzzled, sinful, sick, sore, ' tell Jesus ; ' 
 when downcast and troubled and seemingly beyond 
 the touch of any earthly friend with pain which 
 cannot be voiced or framed in words to suit the ear 
 of either finite or infinite, then bethink you he 
 knows, knows all the depths of agony, all the ' need 
 be ' behind it, all the glory behind it. ' He knows,'
 
 276 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 and for Father to know is to have compassion, to love, 
 to help, to remove if posssble, to uplift if not. 
 
 " And now I have written a long letter. I miss 
 you, my darling, I long to clasp you in my arms 
 once more ; every hour of every day my voice 
 reaches the throne in supplications for you. I ' tell 
 Jesus ' what my heart craves for you, and ' he 
 knows ' how to bring it to you. I dare not mark 
 out the path for you to tread. I tell Jesus where I 
 long to have it end and ' he knows ' all the way to 
 lead you. And so I find, and you Avill find, that 
 all through life you need to ' tell Jesus ' and to re 
 member that ' he knows,' not only how to listen to 
 the petition but how to answer it best. 
 
 "Good-bye, my darling, for awhile. I must 
 close if this is to catch this mail, and it must to give 
 you early cheer. God bless you abundantly. 
 
 " SISTER ALICE." 
 
 Yensie read her letter to Ruth and the dear girl 
 wept as she listened. 
 
 " How good she must be," she cried. " Tell her 
 I will carry her illuminated mottoes through life 
 and thank God for sending them to me through 
 you."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " Let us be patient. These severe afflictions 
 Not from the ground arise, 
 But oftentimes celestial benedictions 
 Assume this dark disguise." 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 >AVE you a sister, Whedon?" asked Her 
 bert Gardenell of a fellow-student one 
 day, as for the third or fourth time dur- 
 ring the term he saw him receive a letter directed 
 in a delicate, feminine hand. He and Whedon 
 were excellent friends and he knew his mate had 
 no mother ; therefore the question. 
 
 They were part of a group of students assem 
 bled in the village post-office, and Gardenell's 
 question was greeted with a perfect storm of ap 
 plause. Whedon colored slightly, but answered 
 by a simple negative. 
 
 Shortly after, having an opportunity Gardenel] 
 excused himself. 
 
 277
 
 278 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " I didn't mean a thing by my question Jack," 
 he said, " but the fellows took it up so I feared 
 you'd think I did." 
 
 Whedon laughed. "It's nothing I'm ashamed 
 of Gard. My letters come from a little girl to 
 whom I'm engaged. We are to marry when I 
 graduate." 
 
 " You're a lucky fellow," said Herbert, grasping 
 his hand heartily. "She's a jewel I know from 
 the looks of her hand-writing. Don't laugh now, 
 I'll describe her and prove my ability to tell." 
 
 " Go ahead," said Jack. 
 
 " She is tender, shrinking, bashful," began Her 
 bert, "but brave as a lion in an hour of real 
 demand; such girls always are. A truthful, de 
 pendent girl, who loves to look up to and lean on 
 some other, yet would not fear to die for truth or 
 for one she loves." 
 
 " Gardenell, do you know Ruth ? '' interrupted 
 Whedon. " Where did you ever see her ? " 
 
 " Haven't seen her yet," laughed Herbert. 
 
 " Mark, I did not tell you her complexion, the 
 color of her eyes, or height. All I know I have 
 read on the backs of the envelopes exposed to 
 view in the window of our large post-office." 
 
 " You're a wizard," said Whedon. " Couldn't 
 have described her better. I tell you she helps me 
 to be a better man. She helps everybody, though 
 she doesn't know it and imagines all the good in 
 her due to some other body's help. She has a
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 279 
 
 room-mate now at L that she thinks the world 
 
 of writes me how her Christian life is strength 
 ened by contact with her. I know all about that, 
 she receives good from everything, can't help it, 
 that's her nature. They have some queer old the 
 ological discussions, I take it if they are not 
 learned doctors. The girl must be cute judging 
 from some of the questions she puts to Ruth. 
 Come, Gardenell, seeing you have a discerning 
 spirit, perhaps you can describe this room-mate of 
 Ruth's and tell me her name. I'm blest if I can 
 make it out." 
 
 Herbert smiled. " Room-mate at L ," meant 
 
 much to him. Yeusie had gone there to school. 
 Who so likely to be the smart, lovable girl with a 
 peculiar name ? So he answered his friend readily. 
 
 " A slender, beautifully formed girl, neither 
 short nor tall, but very queenly ; with the most 
 delicious complexion imaginable, and bewildering 
 eyes ; a mouth whose music wafts your soul to 
 heaven, and a wealth of chestnut hair carried as 
 regally as if it were a diadem. She is about six 
 teen, I judge, very talented, very good, and named 
 Yensie Walton. An odd name I admit, no one 
 else ever owned it I suppose, but then nobody else 
 was ever just like her. She is truly a very delight 
 ful girl." 
 
 Whedon whistled. He was evidently more than 
 surprised and needed to let off steam. 
 
 " Gardenell, you beat all the men that ever
 
 280 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 brought white mice out of old gentlemen's tall 
 hats. I believe you've hit Ruthie's room-mate ex 
 actly. Used some of the very expressions in a let 
 ter in. my pocket, and " studying an epistle 
 pulled out hastily " yes, that's the name that has 
 puzzled me so much, Y-e-n-s-i-e. Come, own up 
 where you met this one, seeing you had no en 
 velope to study ? " 
 
 " Oh, once upon a time in a country town I met 
 such a maiden," replied Herbert. 
 
 " Wonderful ! " said Jack, " to think my Ruth 
 should have struck your affinity." 
 
 But Gardenell said never a word. The first 
 ear that should hear the confession of his love 
 should be the ear of his beloved and this when 
 well, she was only a little school-girl now, a little 
 girl he told him self so often. When he and she 
 were done with school then he only smiled and 
 built castles after that then. 
 
 He inquired of Whedon, however, if the young 
 ladies were allowed to correspond with whom they 
 pleased. 
 
 " No," was the reply. " They are not usually 
 allowed any correspondence with young men. 
 
 Madame W is very strict. But Ruth went there 
 
 only on condition that she have the privilege of 
 writing to me occasionally." 
 
 One, two, passed the terms. Yensie wrote 
 home for permission to spend her first vacation at
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 281 
 
 the beach with Madame and a few of the young 
 ladies. 
 
 Fred replied. " Father says you may go to the 
 beach. Mother is not over pleased. I'm just mad. 
 Not because you're going to have a nice time, but 
 because I'm selfish. I hope you'll have a stunning 
 time. Is that too big a word ? You'll be aston 
 ished when you see me. I grow some, mother 
 says I'm taller than I was even a month ago, and 
 getting too far through my pants. She says I 
 grow so fast because I'm ' sassy.' The spelling is 
 mother's ; I know better." 
 
 This letter contained beside a whole string of 
 endearments, and sundry hints of a young man 
 " made up of ' yaller curls and musk ' (mother's 
 spelling again) who is sweet on Mill." Then there 
 was a twenty dollar bill, " a black and white secret 
 between you and father and me, for mother'd 
 think she was robbed if she knew, and Mill would 
 make a row for another. But you're to do as the 
 other girls do and father'll foot the bills ; he says 
 so." 
 
 The Christmas holidays Yensie spent with 
 Jessie Crafton in her elegant home. There she 
 soon became a favorite not only with Mrs. Crafton 
 but with Mrs. Germaine, Jessie's Aunt Julia, wLo 
 was visiting her sister. 
 
 Returning to school Yensie found a letter await 
 ing her containing sad intelligence, though then 
 she did not realize how serious. Fred had met
 
 282 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 with an accident. He had been run into by a sled 
 and his hip severely injured. Yensie wrote him 
 a long, tender letter and received in answer a few 
 tear-blurred lines assuring her he should get well 
 speedily if she were at home. 
 
 Letters after this were not so plenty from Wynn 
 for Fred had been Yensie's chief correspondent. 
 But just as our friend had decided to answer Miss 
 Grey's urgent letter of invitation to spend the 
 interim between the school years with her, a letter 
 from Mildred revoked that decision. 
 
 Fred would never walk again, she wrote, and was 
 very anxious to see Yensie. He was altogether 
 unbearable anyway and his father made a fool of 
 him as if, because he was lame, he should make 
 everybody else miserable. 
 
 Ruth was going home to be married, and tearful 
 was her parting with her room-mate. The day- 
 after her departure, Yensie left for Wynn. 
 
 At D she looked eagerly for a glimpse of 
 
 Herbert Gardenell, but in vain, and after a long, 
 tiresome ride found herself in the early afternoon 
 nearing Wynn. 
 
 Old remembrances began to clamor at her heart 
 as she drew nearer to Valley Farm, and it was with 
 intense eagerness at length she alighted from the 
 coach which brought her from the depot, and stood 
 at the old gate. 
 
 As the kitchen door swung open, Aunt Sarah 
 and Milly both looked up. They had not expected
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 283 
 
 her evidently that day from the surprise written on 
 their countenances. 
 
 A warm, loving kiss she gave each, and then 
 asked, " Where's my boy ? " Mildred pointed to 
 the door, and bounding into the dining-room the 
 young girl caught sight of a poor, thin, white face 
 looking at her out of eager eyes eyes belonging 
 to a slight little figure stowed away on one corner 
 of the lounge, a crutch at hand leaning against the 
 wall. 
 
 " Oh, you dear, dear old girl ! " cried the boyish 
 voice, as stooping over him she allowed herself to 
 be almost suffocated with hugs and kisses. " You 
 precious, precious old thing, I made almost sure you 
 would come, though that horrid Milly said you 
 wouldn't. I began to fear she might be right when 
 you didn't come in 3 r esterday's train (you see I 
 kept the time) and I nearly cried my eyes out last 
 night after I was in bed where she couldn't see me ; 
 for she said you had forgotten all about me and I 
 wouldn't allow her to believe I thought so for a 
 moment. And I didn't, did I now ? for there 
 would live a little bit of hope way down in a cor 
 ner of my heart, that made me watch for you all 
 the morning ; and when I heard your voice there 
 was such a thrill went all through me, that I forgot 
 I couldn't walk and went springing up to meet you 
 until the pain made me remember. But you are 
 here, and you love me just the same I know, and I 
 may hug you all I like even if it does rumple your
 
 284 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 curls and collars. Ain't I glad Miss Hateful was 
 mistaken for once in her life. You didn't forget 
 me if you were at boarding-school with grand 
 friends who invited you home to spend your vaca 
 tions ? " 
 
 " I couldn't forget my Fred, if I had made ever 
 so many wonderful acquaintances, which I haven't. 
 But I am afraid I shall have to set him a little lower 
 in my estimation than I wish to, if he speaks so 
 disrespectfully of his sister," said Yensie, placing her 
 hand caressingly on the red hair. 
 
 " But she is so cross and hateful, you can't begin 
 to guess," said Fred in extenuation. 
 
 " And you are so good and patient, is that what 
 I am to understand ? " questioned Yensie, a half 
 smile on her lips. 
 
 " No, I have been just as cross as Mill herself," he 
 answered, slowly ; " but then, as father says, I am 
 only a poor little lame boy." 
 
 "And so must add sin to misfortune," kissing his 
 now burning cheek, " is that it little brother ? " 
 
 He flung his arms about her neck and whispered 
 in answer, " I shall be all right now, you have come, 
 and so good if you'll only stay. O Ennie darling," 
 with a little sob, " you don't begin to know how 
 hard it is. Sit down right here and let me put 
 my head in your lap while I tell you." Then no 
 ticing the tears of sympathy in her eyes, he added 
 quickly, " how selfish I am, you are tired and need 
 rest."
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 285 
 
 " No, you are not selfish, and I am not tired," she 
 answered, smiling into his face. " But if you will 
 let me change my dress and wash my face, I shall 
 feel better and be very much sweeter. Cars do not 
 add to cleanliness." 
 
 " Well, go," he said reluctantly ; and as she closed 
 the door she saw his eyes followed her, and coming 
 back, some minutes later, found them still fixed 
 upon the spot where she had disappeared, waiting 
 her return. 
 
 She looked so fresh and sweet, and beautiful in 
 the clean, light calico, she had donned, that he cried 
 out rapturously, " Oh, how handsome you are, Yen- 
 sic ; you are prettier than ever r isn't she, Mill ? " 
 appealing to his sister, who was passing through 
 the room. 
 
 " Yes, I believe she is," was the answer, and Fred 
 went on as the maiden seated herself beside him. 
 
 " I wish I was a man, a great, handsome, rich 
 man, then I would marry you Ennie, and give you 
 everything you wanted before you could ask for it, 
 and make you so happy." 
 
 Yensie smiled down into the little eager face. 
 " You are laughing at me, Yensie ; don't you think 
 I would?" 
 
 " I think you might change your mind," she said ; 
 " but little man, I was thinking that without wait 
 ing to grow big and rich, you were making me very 
 happy indeed. I think I love you better just aa
 
 286 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 you are than I could possibly were you one bit dif 
 ferent." 
 
 " What, Ennie ! crutch and all ? Ah, you liave not 
 seen this." he went on sadly, taking the crutch in 
 his white hands, those long, thin hands, whose ex 
 treme delicacy Yensie had noted in the first moment 
 of her arrival. " You did not see this. O Yensie, 
 how I hate it, how I hate it," he went on bitterly, 
 unconsicously assuming an older tone and manner. 
 '" It tells me all I have lost, of all I cannot be. 
 Sometimes it seems to me it would have been so 
 much better, so much easier to die," and one thin 
 hand dashed the tears from his eyes, as with the 
 other he still held the despised symbol of his weak 
 ness. 
 
 Yensie's eyes were full of tears, but she bowed 
 her head until her lips touched the hated crutch. 
 " Poor little crutch ! " she said, " it may be, doubt 
 less is, God's messenger. See, I salute it, Fred ! 
 this is the way to greet what Father sends." 
 
 " Even when it is a crutch. O Yensie, you do 
 not know what I have lost in gaining this." 
 
 " He knows," she whispered, softly. 
 
 " Yes, He knows," he said, hotly. " But does he 
 care. O Yensie, God has changed lately or I have. 
 You used to say he loved me ; how could he love 
 ine and send me this ? " 
 
 "He knows," she whispered still. 
 
 " Knows what ? " he asked so fiercely that Yen 
 sie started in surprise.
 
 YENSIE W ALTON". 287 
 
 " Knows what? how to torture his children, how 
 to defeat them ? You are surprised and shocked at 
 me, but if it was to you he sent this gift, could you 
 kiss the hand that offered it and love him just the 
 same ? " 
 
 Yensie took both thin hands in her own and looked 
 with dewy eyes into his face as she answered: 
 
 " My darling boy, He knows whether I would or 
 not receive such a gift submissively. To-day I 
 feel if he had sent me such I would ask his grace 
 to say, ' Thy will be done,' and try to serve him in 
 the midst of pain, and through his abounding favor 
 out of defeat wring victory." 
 
 " You don't know any thing about it," he wailed ; 
 pressing his face into her bosom, while he fought 
 the hot tears back. " How can you know, without 
 standing just where I do now. O, I did so want 
 to be a man, a true, brave man of whom you would 
 be proud ! You know you told me I grew so 
 fast, I would make a tall man, and I was so glad, I 
 thought when I got through school I would be big 
 enough to go with you everywhere ; and O, I did 
 intend to be so good, and study hard and make you 
 proud of me ; and now it is of no use, just no use 
 at all, I may as well give up. You love me Yensie, 
 and I know you would not make me lame or make 
 me suffer ; how can He if He loves me as you 
 say?" . 
 
 Yensie pressed him a little closer to herself. 
 " Dear boy, dear boy," she said, " we cannot meas-
 
 288 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 ure God-love by our human standards. I am so 
 weak, so human, I should spare you pain perhaps, 
 even knowing that in the end 'twould rob you of 
 greater, richer gain. Then, too my knowledge ife 
 limited. I cannot know the whole and seeing only 
 part of the great map of life would make mis 
 takes. He knows the all of life life present and 
 to come, one whole with two compartments. He 
 never never makes mistakes. Viewing this 
 earth-life in its relation to the other greater life, 
 for which it is the preparation, and knowing just 
 what is needed to make more of us there, he is 
 brave enough, true enough to our highest interests, 
 loves us enough to see us suffer for the little pres 
 ent, sure it will make the eternal afterwards so 
 much better. 
 
 " Have I made myself understood, Fred ? Do 
 you catch my thought ? I know a little man, do I 
 not, whose father would not let him go skating 
 with the other boys one day because he thought 
 the ice unsound. He was very angry, this little 
 man, and thought he knew much better than his 
 father ? But when two frozen bodies were taken 
 up from the pond, where they went down that 
 very afternoon, I heard him say, ' I was wrong 
 father. I am glad you knew better than I did and 
 would not let me go.' 
 
 " It is a poor illustration, for when can human 
 love and foresight touch the divine ? But if you 
 had dared to run away that day you would
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 289 
 
 have gone, and repented it forever, or bee a lost. 
 And so perhaps to-day if God would give you 
 choice to walk and be what you had wished, what 
 others are, you might make choice of present good 
 and mourn the loss to all eternity. My golden 
 words are best, ' He knows.' ' 
 
 Fred smiled in answer to her smile, but yet, he 
 said, " almost anything else would seem better. I 
 did so long to be a man." 
 
 " And why not be, yet ? " Yensie inquired. 
 " What is the man, this or this?" she said, touch 
 ing his little shriveled foot and then his hand and 
 head, " or is the man within ? Do you not know as 
 much, and love as much, and think as well now, as 
 heretofore ? Don't mistake the man's house for 
 the man ; the man's clothes for himself. This 
 body is only the true man's, the soul's, investiture, 
 his home for a little while. I had rather the house 
 would be small, and ill-shapen, and homely than 
 have the man such, would not you ? It is not the 
 casket, but gem, we prize most. I had rather have 
 a diamond in a nut-shell, than a glass bead in a 
 velvet case, and darling, your soul may grow, and 
 grow, and grow, until it bursts its narrow habili 
 ments and finds itself in God's own freedom. 
 
 " Be patient little boy ; even this body you so 
 prize, the outward manhood you so covet will yet 
 be yours, if true to God and to your own soul, for 
 in the eternal Somewhere in God's somewhen, out 
 from the ashes of this poor shrunken house of
 
 290 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 clay shall rise in wondrous glory a spiritual body, 
 fit for the robing of an immortal soul, and you 
 shall stand before the eyes of Deity in perfect 
 manhood." 
 
 The thought had grown upon her and opened 
 into such wonders as she spoke, that all her heart 
 was throbbing with the joy of such expectation, 
 her voice thrilling with its rapture ; and looking 
 down her eyes met an uplifted, tearful face. 
 
 " O Yensie, I am so glad," he gasped. 
 
 " And so am I," she answered simply. " You 
 really believe it, Fred ? " 
 
 " O yes," he answered, eagerly, " my heart tells 
 me it is true; then you have said so that is 
 enough." 
 
 " No, not enough, if it ended with me," she said. 
 " Only a ' thus saith the Lord ' should settle soul- 
 questions. Fred, He says so and ' He knows.' " 
 
 Fred smiled into her face. Those two words so 
 repugnant to him when first she introduced them 
 were music now. 
 
 " How nice it must be to be God," he said. 
 
 Yensie smiled. " Why, Fred ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because he knows everything, and it must be 
 so much easier to be patient and wait;" and he 
 looked into her face as if doubtful how she would 
 receive his words. 
 
 " How much better," she replied, and somehow 
 the wisdom she thus sought to impart to her cousin 
 fell back into her own bosom ; she, so restless and
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 291 
 
 dissatisfied, so often reaching out after the unat 
 tainable while slighting the good at hand : " How 
 much better, darling, for us to say, how nice to be 
 ' sons of God,' for to such distinction he invites us, 
 and such we may be now. Let us be satisfied with 
 that He gives and rejoice that Father knows. For 
 since we are not to bring ourselves home, nor mark 
 out our own path, we need know but little of the 
 way ; one step at a time. The child never cares 
 whether the road to the village is known to her or 
 not, when father holds her hand ; so we have only 
 to walk where he bids and not to determine where 
 it leads ; for the way is his, the guide himself, and 
 however crooked the path we cannot stray under 
 such guardianship ; let us be content." 
 
 There were no more words spoken for many min 
 utes, then suddenly Fred lifted his head from her 
 lap, where she had drawn it, and said, with peculiar 
 emphasis, pointing to the crutch : " Yensie, it don't 
 look half so bad. Why it is almost beautiful ! See 
 how the sun is shining on the red leather, it looks 
 like a glory-crutch now! How do I know but 
 Jesus sent it to me to help me on my way to the 
 New Jerusalem ? I'd rather limp there than not 
 get there at all, wouldn't you ? O Ennie, I believe 
 I shall almost love it after this, perhaps when I see 
 Him I shall have reason to thank him for this more 
 than any other gift. Sing ' Jesus, I my cross have 
 taken,' for I have taken it, Yensie, and if he'll help 
 me, I'll carry it like a man."
 
 292 
 
 YEKSIE WALTON. 
 
 Yensie's eyes were full of tears, but Fred's were 
 full of joy as she sang in low, sweet, tremulous 
 tones that heart-cry of a stricken yet trusting soul 
 which has voiced the holy determination of many 
 a triumphant one who out of defeat has wrung re 
 luctant victory and drained the bitter cup of sor 
 row having respect unto the recompense of the re 
 ward.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " Life went a-maying 
 With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, 
 When I was young." 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 !R. WALTON'S delight at seeing his niece 
 was only equalled by his pleasure in her 
 evident improvement. Always possessed 
 of uncommon grace there was now an added 
 elegance of manner, an ease of expression, an 
 assurance far removed from boldness perceived 
 by all though accounted for differently by every 
 member of the family. 
 
 With time fully and pleasantly occupied, the va 
 cation was soon gone and the last night at home 
 came again. 
 
 293
 
 294 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 She passed this evening with Fred, and sweet and 
 tender was their parting, for Yensie said all her 
 farewells to him that night as she must start very 
 early in the morning. 
 
 She did start early, having pressed a kiss on her 
 cousin's closed eyes, and breathed a prayer for his 
 comforting and guidance. Then her uncle drove her 
 to the depot and she was outward bound once more. 
 
 The train was crowded to-daj^, fresh passengers 
 coming in at every station, and the close air soon 
 
 made her head ache. But on reaching D , she 
 
 looked eagerly for a glimpse of a familiar face. 
 The ten minutes passed, however, and aboard of the 
 outgoing train she had just given up all hopes of 
 seeing Herbert when he appeared. 
 
 He was looking about anxiously, as if in search 
 of some one, and Yensie, seated at the car window, 
 leaned forward hastily in her eagerness and her 
 handkerchief caught by the breeze wafted from her 
 hand and fluttered to his feet. 
 
 It looked intentional, and her cheeks crimsoned as 
 he returned it to her, at the same time taking her 
 hand in unmistakable pleasure. 
 
 " It was quite an accident, Mr. Gardenell," she 
 said. "As I caught sight of your face I leaned 
 forward, and the wind took it." 
 
 " A very timely accident," he replied, smiling. 
 " You might have escaped me had it not been for 
 the little flutterer, and I came here on purpose to
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 295 
 
 meet you. I was delayed, however, and have only 
 this minute, but for that I am thankful." 
 
 He was looking in her face, his hand upon the 
 window sill. "I had almost given you up," she 
 said, blushing and unconsciously revealing her de 
 sire to see him. 
 
 " Then you were looking for me ? I am glad," he 
 said, gleefully. "I saw your picture at Whedon's, 
 Yensie Ruth showed it to me. Have you another 
 you can give me ? I want it for myself, not to show 
 to others ; it will be valued. Do you think well 
 enough of me to trust me with it ? " 
 
 He was regarding her earnestly. The cars began 
 to move slowly, there was no time for delay. In 
 packing her trunk the day before she had put the 
 only two left in her pocket that she might leave 
 one with Fred as a parting gift. The other she had 
 with her now. 
 
 One moment more and with flushing cheeks she 
 placed the envelope containing it in his hand. A 
 pressure of the little palm, a simple " thank you," 
 and he stood waving his hat to her while she, waft 
 ing by in the cars, felt vaguely that more of her 
 self than her picture lay in his hands. 
 
 " Earnest of more," said Herbert, smiling, as he 
 gazed on the fair photographed face. "I was very 
 bold, and some day I will be bolder still and ask 
 for the original, and I feel very sure I will not be 
 denied." 
 
 That night after his room-mate slept, Gardenell
 
 296 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 discovered that the envelope contained more than 
 the picture. 
 
 " Poetry," he cried, eagerly scanning the sheet 
 before him without a thought that it might be un 
 lawful. The paper was closely but carelessly 
 written, with here or there a sentence erased or 
 supplied, and was evidently a crude composition 
 not intended for other eyes than her own. 
 
 Herbert read however : " The glorified crutch, 
 to my darling Fred." He stopped with contracted 
 brows. " ' Fred ! ' Who is he pray ? ' My dar 
 ling Fred ' rather strong. Her cousin's name is 
 Fred, but he isn't lame, and this is for some one 
 lame. It isn't a bit love-like any way, but she 
 should be careful how she addresses any one so 
 warmly." 
 
 There was more in the envelope than this. 
 And days after, Yensie, while hunting for the 
 paper upon which she had been writing during her 
 car-ride, remembered with dismay that she had 
 tucked it into the envelope with her picture and 
 the draft of Fred's poem. 
 
 What should she do ? Herbert must not read 
 them. She was very sure she had written his 
 name, she had thought of him so much that morn 
 ing. She feared the lines were very silly. She 
 took comfort at thought of the young man's char 
 acter. He would recognize at once that these 
 papers were not intended for his eyes and return 
 or destroy them.
 
 But Herbert, quite unconscious he was doing anything wrong or un- 
 geritlemanly, was reading with evident relish every word. Page. 297-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. '297 
 
 But Herbert, quite unconscious he was doing 
 anything wrong or ungentlemanly, was reading 
 with evident relish every word. 
 
 " What a soul that girl has ! " was his criticism 
 on the crutch-poem. " What, more ! and love, as 
 I live. Then she has dared dream of love, I 
 wonder if her dreams ever point my way ? " and 
 then he read, his face blossoming into smiles, the 
 following hastily written lines : 
 
 " 'Tis said there's such a thing as love, true love ; 
 "Tis said its glorified essence dwells above; 
 But that here through earth its rivers run 
 And shimmer and gleam 'neath moon and sun, 
 And gladden and water, yea, every one 
 This beautiful river of love. 
 
 I wonder if I have heard the song it sings? 
 I've heard, I know, but my best-loved ones took wings! 
 Yet earth, and sky, and bird, and song, . 
 Teach me to love though they are gone. 
 For everything in the world is borne 
 Over the river of love. 
 
 But love of love, delightfully new and strange, 
 Is that -which fastens two hearts, nor knows a change. 
 The years they come, and the years they go ; 
 The tides they ebb, and the tides they flow; 
 Yet this love increasing doth stronger grow, 
 O wonderful river of love I 
 
 I wonder who shall love as well as this ? 
 
 Whose heart shall teach my heart to thrill with bliss?
 
 298 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Wonder and wonder, for I know well 
 That love's sweet waters within me swell, 
 And my heart shall yet with some other's dwell 
 Beside the river of love. 
 
 O where does he live ? What is his name ? My love, 
 
 when shall I see his manly form ? My love! 
 
 1 should love him now if I knew him mine, 
 And weave his name in my homely rhyme, 
 And flowers of beauty plant and twine 
 
 Over the river of love. 
 
 Come, love of mine! My heart awaits thy touch, 
 Thy lips, thy voice, must first awake its blush: 
 The flower and blossoms vigil keep 
 Waiting alone the breath to leap 
 And adorn with blossom, and bud, and leaf, 
 The glorious river of love. 
 
 Over and over again Herbert read these verses. 
 "The flowers and blossoms shall not keep vigil 
 long," he said, tenderly. " Not more eagerly does 
 your heart wait love's touch than mine pants to 
 press the springs which hold such a wealth of 
 affection and turn its loosened currents over my 
 waiting soul." 
 
 He wrote his name after some of those ques 
 tions. Was it very foolish ? Were you never in 
 the place where you could do, did do so foolish a 
 thing reader, nor dreamed it was foolish until 
 years after when, alas, you had been robbed of the 
 freshness of youthful love and realized not your 
 loss?
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 299 
 
 " I am so glad she stowed this wee bit in here 
 with her face," he said, touching the face with his 
 lips almost reverently. " I am not ashamed to 
 love her, and some day I will teach her to love me 
 if God does not teach her sooner." 
 
 A week later as Madame W dismissed Yen- 
 
 sie's class she requested that young lady to meet 
 her in the library in the course of fifteen minutes. 
 
 Madame was a cold, haughty woman ; very tal 
 ented and highly respected as an instructress, but 
 feared far more than loved by those much nearer 
 to her than her pupils. 
 
 Her laws were rigid and exacting, her personal 
 appearance . awe-inspiring. Yet her school was 
 always full. Few of the young ladies cherished 
 any affection for her, and as few dared to disobey 
 her. Now there was something in her manner 
 which startled Yensie and it was with no little 
 trepidation that she made her appearance at the 
 appointed time. 
 
 Madame was writing and did not look up as 
 Yensie obeyed her request to be seated. On the 
 table near Madame's arm lay a letter and it 
 occurred to the girl that in some way her summons 
 was connected with this. Who it was from, what 
 it contained, she did not even guess, but she felt 
 strangely convinced that it was the cause of 
 Madame's displeasure. Therefore the lady's first
 
 300 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 question did not startle her as it must have done if 
 asked upon entering the room. 
 
 " Miss Walton, while home, did you engage to 
 open a new correspondence ? " 
 
 " No, Madame," was the unhesitating reply. 
 
 " Will you please examine this hand-writing and 
 see if it is familiar?" passing the letter to the 
 maiden. 
 
 " I never saw it before." And the lady who 
 was scrutinizing closely the countenance before 
 her, saw no evidence of untruth. 
 
 " Have you any suspicions as to the writer ? " 
 still gravely demanded the preceptress. 
 
 Yensie's face flushed painfully, for in that 
 moment the thought had come with an assurance 
 amounting to certainty that Herbert Gardenell's 
 hand had penned it. Her answer was unhesitat 
 ing. " Yes, Madame, I have." 
 
 " But it is unexpected ? " inquiringly. 
 
 " Wholly," was the candid response. 
 
 Madame hesitated a moment. Presently she 
 said : " Miss Walton I have never had reason to 
 doubt your word or find fault with your conduct. 
 I think you may take this letter, but it must be the 
 last. 
 
 " What did old stiff-back want of you, pray ? " 
 cried Jessie, as Yensie entered her room. Miss 
 Crafton had petitioned successfully to succeed 
 Ruth. " Bless me, a letter ! Why couldn't she 
 give it to you when the other letters were distrib-
 
 YBNSIE WALTON. 301 
 
 uted ? You haven't been breaking the laws, surely, 
 by corresponding with some rustic swain ? " Then, 
 noticing her friend's flushed face, she cried, " Hate 
 ful old thing, has she been scolding you ? What 
 have you been up to, my own ? This isn't a 
 love-letter is it ? " seizing Yensie's two hands and 
 reading the superscription. 
 
 " A gentleman's hand-writing ! Oh ! fie, fie ! I 
 thought I knew you better. I thought you were 
 my own familiar, and that we were to live together 
 as happy recluses. O dreams of my youth, how 
 vain ! " 
 
 Then, seeing her friend was really distressed, she 
 said, more quietly, " Sit down Puss, and put that 
 letter away if you dare not read it in my presence. 
 I shall be out of your way presently ; but, mark 
 you, I must know every horrid word it contains." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Yensie ; but a little after when 
 alone she opened the envelope. She supposed it 
 contained a photograph, and was not mistaken ; 
 Herbert's best self looked through earnest eyes 
 into her face. 
 
 But the letter ! What was this ? She surveyed 
 with astonishment the sheet of paper before 
 her. No heading, no date, no signature, no 
 writing. In the centre of the unruled paper was 
 a crutch with a red cushion. Above and all about 
 it seemed a soft light or halo, and beneath was a 
 capital W, made with wondrous flourishes, and 
 two crossed hoes.
 
 302 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Yensie saw at once the meaning of the rebus. 
 " The glorified crutch Whose? " But there was 
 more than this. A few strokes of the pencil, 
 moved by a skilful hand, had made a picture in 
 the curve of the large capital, and there she saw a 
 little stream with bending trees and beneath two 
 tiny figures. By and by as she studied the grace 
 ful, drooping vines which hung about the inner 
 edge of the loop and made the pictured scene 
 perfect, she found they formed the letters H 
 and Y. 
 
 When Jessie came into the room some time later 
 she found the bright, young, eager face still study 
 ing the page before it. 
 
 " What is it, Ennie ? Anything very good ? " 
 and Yensie, eager to share her pleasure, asked, 
 " Can you keep a secret?" 
 
 " Until death," was the laughing reply. 
 
 " Your lips will be sealed ? " 
 
 " Hermetically." And Yensie handed her the 
 paper. 
 
 " Why, what is this ? A rebus I declare. Was 
 this in your letter, Ennie ? What does it mean ? " 
 
 " You're, a veritable interrogation point," laughed 
 Yensie, as sunny and brown locks mingled over the 
 puzzle. 
 
 " I can't make a thing out of it," at last cried 
 Jessie, lifting her flushed face to Yensie's laughing 
 eyes. " Explain, as you love me, for I see you 
 understand. This is a crutch, evidently, ami sur-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 303 
 
 rounded by light or glory. But what can it 
 mean ? Why should a gentleman send you such ? 
 Come, tell me quickly ? " and Yensie explained. 
 
 " Isn't he cute though,'' laughed Jessie. This 
 was intended especially to blind Madame Sharp- 
 eyes. She wouldn't have made much had she 
 opened it. Bless me, what is this ? An H ! what 
 does that stand for? And a Y ! Ah, my darling, 
 this is Harry Horace Haskell Hopkins 
 Hodgman Hammond Hastings Hercules 
 which I beseech you. ? Young Yates Yonk- 
 ers " 
 
 " Stop, stop Jessie. I entertain real fears for 
 you when you talk so fast. Those letters are not 
 the writer's initials." 
 
 "Then what are they? Ah, I have it. Y is 
 for Yensie, and H for ? " looking at her compan 
 ion inquiringly. 
 
 " Herbert, Miss Interrogation-point." 
 
 " Very good," said Miss Crafton. " But Her 
 bert ought to be staid, and grave, and thoughtful. 
 This fellow is evidently a scamp. Not well- 
 named." 
 
 " There you mistake," said her companion, warm 
 ly. " He is all that is good, and earnest, and true ; 
 he is a minister." 
 
 " Deliver us ! " cried Jessie, raising her hands and 
 eyes. " Yensie Walton, you are not deceiving me ? 
 What would good Pastor Longface, of blessed mem 
 ory, (and his memory to me is always more blessed
 
 304 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 than his presence) say to this ? A minister ! My 
 horror increases momentarily, my blood runs cold, 
 that a minister should disgrace his holy office by 
 such lightness ! " 
 
 "Why, Jessie, this is only fun," said Yensie. 
 
 " Bless you, my gosling, I know it and am ex 
 ceedingly edified thereby," said the saucy miss. 
 " He is delightfully human at least and I know it 
 would be refreshing just to see his face after listen 
 ing to one of my dear pastor's sermons on ' The 
 elucidation of emp} r real spirituality; or, 'The 
 doctrines and opinions of our forefathers.' To my 
 think, he makes more opinions than doctrines of the 
 latter, and more refined nonsense than spirituality 
 of the former. But I see quite enough of that 
 dear, melancholy soul at home without lingering OR 
 him longer at present. To return to this human, 
 human. This young theologian is not a full-fledged 
 
 minister ? This comes from D ," smilingly 
 
 lifting the envelope she had been scrutinizing. 
 
 "A student," explained Yensie. 
 
 " Ah ! then there is a chance for improvement, 
 but I'd really like to see him. Is this all your let 
 ter contained? " 
 
 Yensie handed her friend the photograph, which 
 was examined critically. " Not handsome enough," 
 she said at length. "Beautifully formed, but 
 well I love a handsome man." 
 
 " Mr. Gardeneil is handsome," said Yensie, 
 stoutly.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 305 
 
 " I beg to differ from you, if this is Mr Garde- 
 nell's correct picture,' was the quiet reply, eyes 
 still intent on the photograph. 
 
 " Correct picture ! " said Yensie, warmly ; " Her 
 bert's face is one that cannot be photographed cor 
 rectly ; it changes with his every emotion ; I wish 
 you could see him smile once." 
 
 " I wish I could if that would please you," said 
 Jessie, " but a handsome face is handsome always. 
 Now your pictures were very beautiful. I wish you 
 could see Harry Campbell ; he is just the hand 
 somest man I ever saw. I met him two years ago 
 when visiting Aunt Jule ; I declare I envied the 
 grown up misses who consumed his attentions. He 
 usually counted me in with the children, and I 
 fourteen, 1 was indignant ; but then I had nothing 
 to complain of, I made up in candies and romps 
 what I lost in dignity. But to come back, if Harry 
 stood beside this Herbert of yours I think you 
 would understand what I mean.' % 
 
 " Herbert does not lose by the comparison, I 
 assure you," said Yensie, eagerly. " I have seen 
 them side by side often, and came very near for 
 getting Harry was present each time. Herbert is 
 larger, more kingly in his bearing, more intellectual ; 
 I admit Harry's features are more regular, and that 
 he is elegant and courtly, and yet I know you 
 would feel at once the charm of Herbert's manner. 
 No one can resist it ; but he must be seen to be 
 appreciated. Harry's beauty is of the sort that
 
 306 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 can be imitated and set, but . Herbert's is inimita 
 ble." 
 
 "Good, well done," laughed Jessie; "you are 
 an advocate whose heart is evidently in her plea. I 
 will not contradict you. I admit this picture grows 
 as I look at it, and I could imagine as you spoke 
 that his lips moved. Take it, take it my darling, 
 take your picture ere its pictured eyes convert me 
 to your opinion. I declare they are penetrating to 
 my soul. Now sit and tell me where you first met 
 Harry Campbell for I am curious. He is my beau- 
 ideal of manly perfection." 
 
 This led to a long conversation. " He went to 
 Europe with his uncle and has not returned," said 
 Jessie as Yensie ended. " 'Tis said he loves an 
 English woman and that is what keeps him." 
 
 " I don't believe a word of it," said Yensie, but 
 she had no reason to urge when Jessie pressed 
 her. 
 
 " You will answer your letter of course ? " said 
 Miss Crafton, presently. 
 
 " If Madame will permit. I intend to ask her." 
 
 " I shouldn't ask permission. How much wiser 
 would she be if you dropped a letter in the office 
 some day. I couldn't enjoy life with your con 
 science. 
 
 But Yensie decided to ask permission. 
 
 " Does anything in -your letter lead you to sus 
 pect the young man will write again unless you bid
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 307 
 
 him desist ? " asked Madame when Yensie preferred 
 her request. 
 
 " No, Madame," was the reply. 
 
 "Then, why need you trouble yourself to 
 write ? " 
 
 "It will be no trouble. I wish to answer it very 
 much ; " and the girl hesitated. He asked me a 
 question I should like to answer." 
 
 Over Madame's grave face flitted something like 
 a smile. " Do you think it prudent for school-girls 
 to answer such questions?" she queried, looking 
 steadily into the fresh young face. " Are you not 
 too young to decide these matters ? " 
 
 " But this question is on a matter already decid 
 ed," said the girl raising her somewhat puzzled 
 eyes to her teacher's face. Something there re 
 vealed the full import of the lady's question, and 
 with a face covered with blushes, she cried out, " O 
 Madame, you have mistaken me altogether." 
 
 She stood for one moment hesitating, the blood 
 tingling in her cheeks, the next she laid the rebus 
 in the hands of the lady. 
 
 Madame didn't let her eyes even drop toward 
 the paper. " I do not wish to read your letter, 
 dear," she said with unusual kindness. 
 
 " But I wish you to. You will oblige me very 
 much if you will," Yensie said, impulsively ; and 
 the lady cast her eyes over the paper. 
 
 " Miss Walton, I do not understand this," she
 
 308 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 said, half smiling. " Is it hallowed crutch, light 
 ened crutch, or what ? " 
 
 Yensie's eyes were gleaming now. " ' Glorified 
 crutch. Whose? ' " she read, slowly. 
 
 " Madame raised her head, a look of unusual in 
 terest on her face. " I am still in the dark," she 
 said, smiling. 
 
 " You remember hearing that, through an acci 
 dent, my little nephew became lame for life ? " 
 questioned Yensie ; and Madame bowed. 
 
 " When I went home I found him very unhappy 
 because he must always use a crutch. After a 
 while he became more reconciled, almost joyful in 
 the thought that he could bear for Jesus, though 
 he might not do. A remark of his one day, while 
 gazing on his crutch over which the setting sun 
 was streaming, led to my writing a little poem en 
 titled, ' The glorified crutch.' These verses acci 
 dentally fell into the hands of a friend, who had 
 not heard of Fred's affliction, and he has taken this 
 queer way to ask me for whom they were written." 
 
 Madame's face was certainly more beautiful, in 
 its smiling earnestness, than Yensie had ever seen 
 it before. 
 
 " Will you please give me a copy of that little 
 poem, Yensie ? " she asked, for the first time ad 
 dressing her so familiarly. 
 
 " Yes, Madame, if you wish ; but it is very si in-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 309 
 
 pie," Yensie answered, pleased, yet troubled, by 
 the request. 
 
 41 And this was all the letter contained? " mused 
 Madame, half questioningly. 
 
 " Oh no, Madame, there was a photograph." 
 
 " Will you let me see that ? " asked the lady, 
 and Yerisie blushingly laid it in her hand. 
 
 Was she mistaken ? or did Madame W 's face 
 
 suddenly blanch as she gazed on it? The voice 
 was surely husky that asked his name. 
 
 " Herbert Gardenell." The lady repeated the 
 name softly after Yensie, and added, " I thought 
 so," sighing. 
 
 " How old is he ? Where is he ? " she ques 
 tioned, absently. 
 
 " I do not know his age," said Yensie, wonder- 
 ingly; "he is a student at the Theological Semi 
 nary at D ." 
 
 " Ah ! " that was all the reply. Presently she 
 added, " Yes, you may write to him. Tell him I 
 think his ingenuity deserves an answer, but he 
 must not repeat the experiment. Good afternoon, 
 Yensie, you are a good, obedient child." 
 
 Then, as Madame saw the girl still hesitate, she 
 remembered the picture yet in her hand. " Ex 
 cuse me, I forgot; this is your picture. It is a 
 noble face. I knew one years ago much like it." 
 And Yensie, out in the hall, walked slowly to her 
 room, wondering much at the change in Madame,
 
 310 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 and if she would ever be to her again the stern- 
 browed woman she had been heretofore. 
 
 She never was quite. Few of the scholais but 
 noticed how her face lighted as it rested 011 the 
 girl. She had been proud of her before her tal 
 ents, her scholarship. Now she seemed almost to 
 love her. 
 
 She did not allow the young girl to forget the 
 promised poem ; and long after, when Yensie was 
 leaving her school forever, she called her to the 
 library, and there told her the ministry of that sim 
 ple poem to her soul. 
 
 " I have been out of tune, disjointed, all my life," 
 she said. " Your simple words, ' He could bear for 
 Jesus if he could not do,' led me to think. The 
 little poem, under God, brought me again to my 
 Saviour's feet. I have been a better and happier 
 woman for having you here ; you have my blessing 
 wherever you go. I trust your life will be happy ; 
 the foundation is right. Perhaps it will be pleas 
 ant to you to remember some day, that you helped 
 a stubborn-hearted, stiff-necked backslider back to 
 the cross. I have tried to carry my end of it 
 since." 
 
 Then she kissed the young face tenderly, and 
 added, " God bless you ; and, my child, remember 
 it is never best to sacrifice affection for ambition." 
 
 For about two weeks after sending out his ques 
 tion, Herbert watched the mail closely, though
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 311 
 
 with small hopes of receiving an answer. His de 
 light was unbounded, however, on at length receiv 
 ing a dainty little envelope, directed unmistakably 
 by the same hand that had penned his treasured 
 poems. 
 
 He hastened to a secluded lot back of the Semi 
 nary, where he often resorted for study and med 
 itation, and there, reclining on the soft turf, 
 opened and read his letter adding, here and there, 
 a comment of his own. 
 
 He demurred a little over the opening words, 
 "Friend Herbert." He could not know, though 
 he half guessed the many debatings Yensie had 
 held ere she opened her letter thus. 
 
 If she began, "Mr. Gardenell," then she must 
 either add, "Sir," which seemed too stiff, or 
 " Dear Sir," which she feared might be too famil 
 iar ; so remembering how he had urged her several 
 times to call him Herbert, she decided on this way 
 as the one least open to criticism : 
 
 " FRIEND HERBERT : 
 
 " By permission of Madame W 1 write to 
 
 answer the question asked in your rather orig 
 inal communication. I am at a loss to know by 
 just what appellation to dignify that communica 
 tion, although I have a few facts to state with 
 regard to it ; one of which is that Madame bade 
 me assure you, your ingenuity alone obtained for 
 you this reward ; and another, that you are by no
 
 312 YENSIB WALTON. 
 
 means expected to repeat the experiment, at least, 
 in the same direction. 
 
 " I have no doubt that Madame is anxious lest 
 incipient genius be stunted if left without any 
 reward, while as truly fearful, that without barrier 
 or obstacle to overcome, it may lack the stimulus 
 which nerves to greater undertakings. I have 
 deduced these conclusions, however, rather from 
 her position than her words. ' Actions speak 
 louder,' etc. (' Funny little Puss ! ' commented 
 Herbert.) 
 
 " Of course you remember little cousin Fred. 
 Last winter, through an accident, his hip became so 
 injured as to leave him a cripple for life. I was 
 not home at the time and saw him for the first 
 time since his illness during my last vacation. I 
 found him anything but reconciled to his situa 
 tion. Active, stirring boy that he had been this 
 was not strange ; but all the gathered bitterness of 
 his heart seemed to vent itself upon the hapless 
 crutch, without which he could not walk. 
 
 " I have always had much influence with him, 
 mainly, I believe through the power of song, but 
 surely that afternoon of my arrival the power of 
 God must have been with me. 
 
 " At first my words but angered him, though I 
 think I was in full sympathy with him in his sor 
 row, and deeply convinced that, had the crutch 
 been given to me instead, it would only have been
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 313 
 
 through the help of the Crucified I could have 
 accepted it patiently. 
 
 " Dear Fred ! After awhile he seemed to com 
 prehend that thought, too great for unaided 
 human conception to fathom, that so strange a 
 gift, might be and doubtless was, the outgrowth of 
 Infinite Love though looking so sadly ill. But 
 even as he accepted it from the hand of the 
 Father, and lifting his bowed head, stretched out 
 his little hand to take it willingly, the setting sun, 
 streaming in at the open window, threw a flood of 
 golden light over its crimson cushion and over the 
 wall against which it rested, crowning it with 
 glory. 
 
 " I shall never forget the look that passed over 
 his wan face, as, lifting his eyes to mine, he pointed 
 to it, exclaiming, ' Look, Ennie, look, my crutch is 
 glorified ! Who knows but God sent it to help me 
 to the New Jerusalem? and I had rather limp 
 there than not get there at all.' 
 
 " Those words and that scene gave rise to the 
 little poem which fell into your hands so strangely. 
 You must have known on finding the poem, that it 
 was not intended for your eyes. (' No, I think it 
 was,' quoth Herbert, ' It certainly came to them ! ') 
 
 " The day before leaving home I came across the 
 two photographs which I had forgotten I pos 
 sessed. I thought of Fred, and put them in my 
 pocket, together with the little poem which I was
 
 314 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 to copy for him. I left the copy and one picture 
 beside his pillow the morning I met you. 
 
 " During the car-ride I amused n^self with 
 scribbling an unfortunate habit of mine, ('sor 
 ry I can't agree with you,' again commented 
 Herbert,) and when done placed the paper in the 
 envelope lest it should be drawn from my pocket 
 and exposed to stranger eyes, never dreaming that 
 by so doing I was preserving it for yours. I am 
 very sorry. (' I am glad.') You must think me 
 very silly indeed, (' I am of quite a different opin 
 ion ') if you have read all, as I hope you have not. 
 (' but I have.' ) 
 
 " Please destroy the paper and forget you ever 
 found it." (Herbert stopped here. ' I'd like to 
 oblige you, dear girl, but indeed I can't do that,' 
 lie said, resuming his reading.) 
 
 " The warm spring air coming in at my window, 
 and the twitter of a beautiful robin who has chosen 
 for his residence a tree close beside it, reminds me 
 of coming joys. (' Sensible robin, I envy him ; he's 
 fond of good society.') How delicious the country 
 about Valley Farm just now ! I grow homesick at 
 the thought. 
 
 " The spring is one long, glad and almost irre 
 sistible call outward. Not only the lovely flowers, 
 hidden 'neath mother earth, hear the glad sum 
 mons, but such a prisoned school-girl as myself ; I 
 pant for new freedom. The sweet green fields and 
 shaded woods have wondrous charms for me. I envy
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 3lD 
 
 you somewhat your school situation. It makes 
 so much difference whether we study under blue 
 skies, or between brick walls. Not that I have 
 only brick walls or you only blue skies, but that 
 nature's beautifiers in abundance stretch all about 
 you living verities, while with me they are mostly 
 suggestive; one robin, one tree, one garden-bed. 
 
 " Do you know God is very good to you indeed. 
 I can but remember your father, it is so great a 
 good to possess parents, yet most of all I envy you 
 the blessed privilege of preaching the gospel of 
 Christ by and by. Were I a man I think I would 
 prefer it to a crown. Do you rightly estimate your 
 high catting ? 
 
 " Oh, pardon me for such questioning, and for 
 this long letter, please do not tire, it will not be re 
 peated you know. 
 
 " Sincerely your friend, 
 
 YENSIE WALTON." 
 
 " P. S. I see in reading over my letter I have 
 forgotten to thank you for your picture. I do so 
 most heartily. It is as like you as it can be, and I 
 almost expected you would speak to me when first 
 I looked at your paper self. Do not think for a 
 moment that Madame opened your letter ; not at 
 all ; but in asking permission to answer your ques 
 tion I found it unavoidable, or thought so at the 
 time, to withhold a sight of it. My room-mate is 
 coming ; I must close. Y. W."
 
 310 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Herbert's face was a study as he read and re-read 
 this precious epistle ; it was so tender, so brooding. 
 
 " Poor little bird, I would willingly change nests 
 with it," he whispered ; " but what a gay little 
 thing it is, and so pure, so sweet. Don't envy me, 
 little girl, come share with me my privileges that 
 were better. I think I will not tire if you write 
 very often and always so delightfully." 
 
 " Just a bit of sweet poetry," he murmured as 
 he read again the latter part of the letter. " Moth 
 er-nature ought to lavish her choicest blessings on 
 such an appreciative child. My liig h calling! Sure 
 ly God is good to me, and this is a fresh proof of 
 the fact," patting the letter tenderly. 
 
 "'Paper self;'" he smiled over this, and took 
 from his bosom an envelope and out of it a pictured 
 face. " And this is your paper self; only paper yet 
 very dear. I wish you were here in reality to-day. 
 I would draw you to a seat beside me, and give you 
 your first lesson in love. If I had but known 
 Madame would not examine the letter I would 
 have asked another and far more important ques 
 tion." 
 
 Herbert felt very much like answering this letter. 
 Very much like daring Madame's displeasure and 
 asking the question of his life. Many were the let 
 ters he penned only to destroy. " No," he at last 
 decided. He would wait and ask that question 
 when he could look in her face and read in her eyes 
 the answer before her lips could frame it.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " I cannot but remember such things were, 
 That were most precious to me." 
 
 SKAKSPEABE. 
 
 AINLY Herbert lingered at the station for 
 another glimpse of Yensie. School days 
 ended, he started home to find his father 
 waiting to send him westward to settle an estate 
 for his mother's sister, whose husband having died 
 suddenly, left his affairs in such a condition as 
 needed immediate care. 
 
 Herbert perfected his preparations for departure 
 with an eye to visiting Wynn for a few hours, and 
 was sorely disappointed, on reaching there, to hear 
 Yensie was with Miss Grey. He was obliged to 
 go on, however, and await another opportunity of 
 pressing his suit. 
 
 317
 
 318 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 Yensie was indeed with Alice. She had received 
 a letter from that lady, urging her to come to her. 
 
 " I am not ill, dear child," she wrote, " but I 
 feel that I must see you soon, if at all ; " and Yen 
 sie started at once. 
 
 The morning of Yeusie's departure, she found 
 beside her strapped trunk a handkerchief of Alice 
 Grey's, which she had overlooked. She had 
 brought it to school to await an occasion like this, 
 and wondering that she should have left it out, 
 thrust it hastily in the mouth of her satchel. 
 
 From warm embraces and tender farewells she 
 went forth that morning, for many of her class 
 mates were not to return again. The next year 
 was an extra one, for the pursuance of studies al 
 ready begun, and many did not take it. Jessie 
 Crafton had decided to, however, much to her 
 mother's delight, who, according to the maiden's 
 own report, " mistook love of her room-mate for 
 love of study." 
 
 It was a pleasant ride, all in a new direction, 
 which our friend had this day, and arriving in New 
 York, she took a stage to cross the city to another 
 depot, from which she was to conclude her journey. 
 There were several passengers in the stage when 
 she entered ; but it soon stopped to take up a gen 
 tleman, who seated himself opposite. 
 
 It was a common pastime of Yensie's to study 
 faces, and as a matter of course she studied this 
 one so near. It was a dark, brooding face, marked
 
 YENSEE WALTON. 319 
 
 with evidences of unbridled appetites ; yet before 
 long she became intensely interested in it, and 
 quite certain she had seen it before. But where ? 
 even as she wondered she opened her satchel, and 
 her eyes met the handkerchief with Alice Grey's 
 name turned upward. 
 
 In a moment that night spent with Miss Grey, 
 when she had revealed to the young girl the sad 
 story of her life, rose before Yensie, and yes; 
 she felt absolutely certain this man before her was 
 the one whose picture had been shown her that 
 night. 
 
 It was the same face. Weaker, less beautiful, 
 but the same. The longer she studied this dissat 
 isfied countenance, with its restless eyes, the more 
 assured she felt that she was right. 
 
 There was the same broad, intellectual brow ; 
 the same dark grey eyes. The fresh complexion 
 was sallow now, the smooth skin marred with fur 
 rows more the result of passion and debauch than 
 of years. He drank, evidently ; and about his 
 mouth were signs of tobacco. Marks of dissipation 
 were written all over him ; yet any one, in seeing 
 what he was, could judge as well what he might 
 have been. There was something in his appear 
 ance that roused all the pity of this young heart, 
 for he looked very unhappy. A settled despair 
 rested on every feature ; an utter carelessness of 
 life and its issues. 
 
 He was a large man ; as tall, though not as finely
 
 320 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 formed as Herbert Gardenell. Somehow with the 
 thought of Herbert, came the remembrance that 
 this man had been young once, the loved of some 
 mother's heart, the tenderly cherished of spotless 
 Alice Grey. 
 
 Was it true? Could this be Walter Wilde ? If 
 so, did he still cherish one warm sentiment towards 
 her friend ? She thought of the handkerchief ; 
 Should she drop it? Almost without another 
 thought, glancing about to see that none observed 
 her, she sent the little flutterer on its errand. 
 
 It lodged, as she had hoped it would, at the gen 
 tleman's feet. He saw it as it fell, lifted it me 
 chanically, and looked about to see who dropped 
 it ; but no one saw him. Yensie appeared to be 
 busy otherwise just then, though not a look of his 
 escaped her. 
 
 She saw him turn to the name written in the 
 corner. She saw he started visibly, and looked 
 eagerly into every face about him as if seeking 
 one he knew. She met his gaze unflinchingly, and 
 marked the almost relief with which he ended his 
 scrutiny. Then she noticed that, with a hasty 
 glance about, to be sure no one observed him, he 
 placed the wee thing in his bosom, and turned his 
 eyes out of the window. 
 
 He was striving to master some emotion, Yensie 
 was sure, and when a little after he stopped the 
 coach and got out, she followed. 
 
 The child of impulse, had she been asked she
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 321 
 
 could not have given a reason for following 
 Walter Wilde, for it was he. Fome indefinite 
 idea that sometime in some way she might help 
 him to a better life, or a desire to know just where 
 to find him should occasion require, led her on. 
 
 She saw him stop once at a shop window and 
 take out the handkerchief. Once more he read 
 the name, once more the convulsed movement of 
 his features betrayed his emotions as he thrust it 
 back to his bosom, and hastened on ; he was not 
 utterly hardened, she thought. 
 
 Up one street down another, a long, long way 
 he led her, but at last stopped before an old-fash 
 ioned, rather shabby house in a back street. 
 
 After the door closed behind him, Yensie took 
 the number of the house, and retracing her steps 
 found the name of the street and entering them 
 upon a page of her pocket memoranda, turned 
 to inquire her way to the depot. 
 
 Then she first began to realize how weary she 
 was, and to wonder if she had lost the train. 
 
 She had indeed, and a dreary waiting for several 
 hours in the depot, was the result, yet she "was not 
 sorry. How she prayed as she tarried, that the lit 
 tle cambric handkerchief might be God's messen 
 ger to stir into life the dying embers of manhood 
 still left in that sinful heart. 
 
 Over and over she pressed her plea, that this 
 
 oor, wretched, defiled man, who claimed a place 
 
 in her estimation, only because he had been so
 
 322 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 near to her friend, might be saved ; not only for 
 Alice Grey's sake, but for the Saviour's : " For 
 thou art able, there are no impossibilities with thee, 
 my Father," she whispered. 
 
 Think you God heard ? " And if we know that 
 he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we 
 have the petitions that we desired of him." 
 1 John 5: 15. 
 
 Alice had given Yensie up for the day, when 
 suddenly she made her appearance. 
 
 " My darling, darling child, how came you to be 
 so late ? " she inquired. 
 
 "Lost my train, Alice, tramping through the 
 city and was obliged to await another," was the 
 laughing reply. " How good it seems to be with 
 you again ; but I can't half see you in this twi 
 light; come to the door and let me look at you." 
 
 There was a long gazing into each other's face, 
 a removing of car-soiled garments ; a bath, a 
 lunch, a long talk on the garden bench and a 
 sleepy " are you feeling quite well, Alice," asked 
 as Miss Yensie dropped to sleep, a question 
 repeated perhaps, for the twentieth time since her 
 arrival. 
 
 It was a delightful place to visit, that sea-side 
 cottage ; and many happy hours Yensie spent 
 watching the waves come in over the white sands 
 and break in ripples over her bare feet. 
 
 Every morning she walked to the beach with 
 Mrs. Grey, and seating her carefully in some
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 323 
 
 sheltered nook, sat at her feet singing her songs, 
 or amusing her with bright bits of school life. 
 Sometimes she donned a bathing suit and went 
 into the waters. Now wading, now swimming, 
 now ducking after some glittering shell, now leap 
 ing some coming wave, much to the delight of the 
 bright-eyed old lady to whom this young life 
 seemed ever imparting some fresh delight, like her 
 favorite ocean of which she never tired. 
 
 This love of ocean, the old life near its end and 
 the new life but begun held in common, and it was 
 a tie between them. Yensie soon found that in 
 amusing this querulous old lady and thus giving 
 Alice a chance to perform her few household tasks, 
 she could help her most ; and so she exerted her 
 self many times when it was not altogether taste 
 ful. 
 
 She learned very soon that not the lightest of 
 her friend's troubles was bearing with her mother, 
 who could be better pleased by any other than by 
 the tender ministries of her dutiful child. 
 
 " You are so pretty, so pretty," Mrs. Grey would 
 say sometimes smoothing Yensie's glossy curls. 
 " My Lois was lovely too. Not like Alice, not at 
 all. She was so lively, so happy a bird." 
 
 Yensie soon found it was quite useless to try to 
 convince this woman of Alice's superiority. " Oh, 
 she is too grave, my dear ; I worry over her all the 
 time." And then she would go into a long detail 
 of Lois' supposed excellences.
 
 324 YEJTSIE WALl'Otf. 
 
 In spite of her years Mrs. Grey was still beauti 
 ful. She was tall and queenly, and very gay in 
 her dress, even in her old age, but childish and very 
 much attached to Yensie. 
 
 The maiden grew to prize the evening hours 
 when, with her mother in bed, Alice was free to 
 converse with her. Long and many were their 
 talks of Yensie's hopes and desires, of her friend's 
 assurance of God's life-long care for her darling, 
 and occasionally of Walter Wilde. 
 
 One night Alice betrayed such a yearning to see 
 him again, to speak to him her forgiveness and in 
 vite him to Christ that Yensie sent him a little let 
 ter directed to the house she had seen him enter. 
 
 But she said nothing of her meeting to Alice. 
 
 " If I could but see you happy, Alice,'' she said 
 one night. " There, don't look like that. You are 
 happy I know, just the happiest person I ever saw. 
 Yet I think sometimes if all the old wrong could 
 be undone, and Walter what he once was, and you 
 happy in that way, it would be so gratifying to me. 
 I don't want you changed a bit, and all you are 
 may be the result of your past suffering, but I don't 
 like the way it was brought about. I would choose 
 another." 
 
 " 'Blessed is he whosoever is not offended in 
 me,' " quoted Alice. " His way is the best dar 
 ling, I would not change it if I could. I love his 
 will best, I trust at least. ' Surely goodness and 
 mercy shall follow me,' said David. They have
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 325 
 
 been mine, are still, and shall be evermore. Leav 
 ing earth I shall not leave the goodness and mercy 
 but enter into their experience. Never think of 
 me as lost, darling. Myself, all that is truest, best 
 self will still be. This is not life that we find here, 
 it is death death to self, death to ambition, death 
 to sin ; but when death has been perfected in us 
 and we become fit to live, he calls us through the 
 portal we call death into the real life which knows 
 no death. I do not die my darling. My eyes and 
 ears grow weary of earth's pain and strife and so 
 I close them to open them again amid angelic cho 
 ruses and heavenly visions. Don't weep for me, 
 nay, rather sing. Let us learn to keep harmony 
 with heaven and angels ; never weep because a child 
 is born to glory." 
 
 " No, Alice," whispered Yensie. I shall not need 
 to weep for you but for myself, so lonely, so or 
 phaned. Who will take your place ? " 
 
 " ' My God shall supply all your need according 
 to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.' If you 
 need another, Alice, he will give you one ; if it is 
 better for you to walk with Jesus only he will not ; 
 in either case ' He knows,' best." 
 
 One, two, three weeks, yet no reply from Yensie's 
 note. It contained but these few words : " If you 
 would see Alice Grey again on earth come imme 
 diately. Y. W." Underneath were the direc 
 tions. 
 
 The still Sabbath evening, the fourth since Yen-
 
 326 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 sie's coming, found the two friends in the little sit 
 ting-room together. 
 
 It had been a pleasant day but was a little damp 
 at night and they remained in the house. 
 
 The services that day had been unusually sooth 
 ing and the sweet evening quiet settled down on 
 them with much the same effect. 
 
 Alice's frame of mind was as calm and restful as 
 the day had been, and as she sat with both hands 
 clasped over one of Yensie's, her face upturned to 
 the fading skies, the 3 7 oung girl thought she had 
 never seen anything so suggestive of heaven. 
 
 They sat there a long time, Alice forgetful of 
 everything but her thoughts ; Yensie fearful of dis 
 turbing her. 
 
 " Alice, dear," she whispered at length, " what 
 are you thinking about ? " 
 
 " My Jesus," was the simple reply. 
 
 " It must be such a sweet, peaceful thought," 
 continued the girl. 
 
 " It is," was the rejoinder. " I have given the 
 last to him. I am able to trust Walter to him. O 
 my darling, he is infinite in tenderness, overflow 
 ing with love, why don't we trust him more ? 
 Here my poor heart has been yearning over that 
 lost soul, forgetful that the soul's Creator and 
 Saviour regarded it more pitifully, more tenderly 
 than I. Unconsciously I have been exalting my 
 self above the Christ, and have been imploring him 
 to do that which he loves to perform ; that for
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 327 
 
 which he anxiously waits the opportunity. He has 
 told me all this as I sat here. Do you know, dar 
 ling, there is a privilege sweeter even than talking 
 to Jesus, and that is hearing him talk. I fear we 
 do all the talking ourselves and go away after ask 
 ing his will, without knowing it, because we do not 
 wait to hear it. It is blessed to be a listener at his 
 feet, waiting and drinking in his words ! Mary's 
 place, and he said she had chosen a good part. O 
 Jesus, at thy very feet soon, beholding thee as thou 
 art ! How can I bear it ? Give me strength ! Be 
 still O heart, into thy Maker's presence soon to be 
 ushered, no wonder thou dost throb so wildly ! " 
 
 Yensie was awe-struck as she gazed into her 
 friend's rapt face. With tearful eyes she fell on 
 her knees before her and laying her head in her lap 
 wept softly. 
 
 The touch of the girlish face on the hands 
 which had relaxed their grasp on earth, brought 
 Alice Grey back. " My little girl, what grieves 
 you?" 
 
 " O Alice," Yensie gasped, " are you going to 
 leave me so soon, so soon ? Are you very ill ? " 
 
 " I am not ill at all, my child," she said, ten 
 derly. " I am feeling much better to-day only a 
 little tired now. Come, sit beside me and let me 
 put my arms about you. There, that will do. 
 Now do not weep, that grieves me." 
 
 Yensie tried to smile but it was a pitiful 
 attempt. "Alice, I want to tell you now," she
 
 328 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 said, " I met Walter in New York." And the 
 young girl told her all. 
 
 " He may not get your letter, dear. I fear I 
 shall not see him here, but," kissing the tear- 
 stained cheek, " you will, and I will leave a mes 
 sage with you for him. Tell him I forgive all, and 
 Jesus is willing to forgive and save him. Tell 
 him Jesus told me so and that I shall look for him 
 by and by washed in the blood of the Lamb." 
 
 " Is that all, Alice ? " 
 
 " No, darling, give him the little box that con 
 tains his picture and his letters, and, O Yensie, 
 help him all you can ! " 
 
 A little after, she said, as if speaking to herself 
 " God never fails, neither do they that link hands 
 with him." 
 
 Soon she said : " Sing, darling," and ere the 
 evening was past, Yensie had regained her usual 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 As the maiden disrobed herself that night, 
 something white fluttered to the floor. Alice 
 stooped and picked it up, saying, "May I look, 
 dear?" 
 
 " O yes, I took it out of my trunk this morning 
 on purpose to show you," replied the girl, and 
 Miss Grey gazed on Herbert Gardenell's pictured 
 face. 
 
 She opened her arms to her darling, as she 
 questioned how she became possessed of it, and
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 329 
 
 Yensie told the simple story while folded to that 
 loving breast. 
 
 " And is that all," said Alice Grey. 
 
 "All, dear Alice," was the reply. And Alice 
 held the slight figure to her heart as she whis 
 pered : " I could trust you to him," kissing, as she 
 spoke, the lips, and brow, and eyes of her darling. 
 
 How tearfully did Yensie recall all this after 
 wards. That long, long embrace, that careful 
 survey of every feature, as if she would take its 
 impress on her heart, the clinging tenderness of 
 her lips. Then, with her arms still about the 
 young girl, she read the one hundred and thirtieth 
 psalm. There was something exultant in that 
 voice, but very peaceful ; and life-long, Yensie never 
 forgot the prayer that followed. 
 
 Long after Yensie was in bed, tucked in by lov 
 ing hands, which lingered fondly over her shining 
 tresses, she lay and watched her friend. 
 
 Alice was very slow to-night in getting un 
 dressed. She lingered at the glass, taking down 
 her hair ; and then at the table and the little box 
 of which she had spoken to Yensie. Was she, 
 like another Elijah, anxious to avoid watching 
 eyes, and meet her chariot unseen, save by the 
 hosts of heaven ? 
 
 At last the weary eyes of youth closed, just as 
 Alice, putting out the light, knelt again by the 
 snowy bed. Once during the night the girl 
 awoke, she felt beside her, Alice was not there.
 
 330 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 The moon, streaming into the room, revealed her 
 yet on her knees. 
 
 " I have not been asleep long," thought Yensie, 
 and dropped off again. 
 
 The early sun was streaming into the room 
 when next she woke, and with mingled astonish 
 ment and fear, she saw that Alice still knelt beside 
 the bed. 
 
 No pulse however feeble responded to Yensie's 
 trembling touch. Alice Grey's eyes had closed to 
 death and opened unto life. 
 
 Ere another hour had passed kind hands pre 
 pared the body for the grave. An old woman 
 Aunt Hepsey they called her volunteered to re 
 main for a few days, and the house settled down to 
 dreary quiet. 
 
 The morning wore away such a morning. And 
 soothed at last by Yensie's hymns, the poor, dazed 
 mother sank to sleep. Back and forth, back and 
 forth, silently yet restlessly, paced the girl through 
 the room which but yesternight echoed the melody 
 of Alice Grey's voice. 
 
 Dead ! dead ! What a blank followed ? What 
 about this helpless mother? How mysterious 
 God's dealings to leave thus this wreck of life and 
 gather the perfected roundness of that ! 
 
 She paused before the window sorrowfully, and 
 as she paused Walter Wilde suddenly turned an 
 angle of the road and approached the house.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " All may be heroes : 
 
 ' The man who rules his spirit,' saith the voice 
 Which cannot err ' is greater than the man 
 Who takes a city.' Hence it surely follows, 
 If each might have dominion of himself 
 Then each would be a Prince, a Hero, greater, 
 He will be a man in likeness of his Maker! " 
 
 MBS. HALE. 
 
 < ENS IE met the man at the door. He 
 looked into her face inquiringly. " Miss 
 Grey," he said. 
 " This is the house. Come in, Mr. Wilde," she 
 said hastily, and he followed her into the neat sit 
 ting-room. 
 
 She drew a chair for him, but he seemed not to 
 notice but stood, his head nearly touching the low 
 ceiling, a look of nervous anxiety upon his face. 
 331
 
 332 YENS1E WALTON. 
 
 " Is she worse ? Is she very sick ? " he ques 
 tioned presently, the silence oppressing him. 
 
 " No, O no, she is not worse," replied the girl, 
 gently. Then with a sudden compassion at 
 what the news awaiting him must be to this dark, 
 stern man, who had sinned so sorely against the 
 dead, she went impulsively to his side and looking 
 up to his eyes, whispered : " Alice has got beyond 
 the pain and grieving forever, and rests with 
 God." 
 
 A look of blank bewilderment passed over the 
 man's face, which only gave way to one of piteous 
 entreaty, as if he wished her to speak more plainly. 
 
 " She is not dead ? " he asked huskily. 
 
 " No, such as she is never die ; but she has gone 
 to live in heaven." 
 
 He grasped the back of the chair convulsively, 
 and the look upon his face was indescribable. Yen- 
 sie pushed him gently towards the chair, and sink 
 ing into it he covered his face with both his hands. 
 
 There were no tears, no words, no sobs, he sat 
 like some statue cut in stone for the next few min 
 utes. 
 
 Yensie did not know what to do. There was 
 something in this silent despair which made her 
 heart ache. Drawing near she placed her hand on 
 his arm. He did not seem to feel it, and lifting her 
 eyes she asked for grace, then stooping whispered, 
 "Alice left with me a message for you. It was 
 nearly the last she ever said."
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 333 
 
 He lifted his head immediately and looked at her, 
 but with a fixed, stony expression that frightened 
 her. Then Yensie told him of that last night to 
 gether in that very room, and all her tender words 
 and thoughts. As she spoke the pathos of the tale 
 found its way even to that frozen heart, and the 
 maiden marked how the face changed, how the 
 eyes grew moist, and by and by a few great tears 
 rolled over the sallow cheeks. 
 
 As she ended he put his hand in his pocket for 
 his handkerchief, but instead of it he drew forth one 
 of Alice's little cambric messengers. At sight of 
 that a great sob rent his bosom and putting it to his 
 eyes he wept convulsively. 
 
 " I am not often so weak, Miss," at length ho 
 said, " but this has unmanned me." 
 
 " No, no," said Yensie gently. " Say rather this 
 is restoring to you your lost manhood." 
 
 He did not answer her, but presently said, " You 
 loved her ? " 
 
 " Better than all the world beside," she said, bro 
 kenly. " O, earth looks very dark to-day without 
 her." 
 
 " And you are who ? " he asked. "A " she 
 thought from the motion of his lips he meant to say 
 sister, and she said, " She only had one sister." 
 
 " I know," he answered, quickly, and with a look 
 the girl thought she understood. 
 
 " My name is Yensie Walton. Alice called me 
 her dear child," she continued, and he lifted his
 
 334 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 face suddenly and 'scanned her features as he had 
 not done before. 
 
 " You are not," he began, then added, as if to 
 himself " No, that was a boy." 
 
 Yensie understood him. " Your little boy died 
 years ago," she said. " We shall lay Alice close 
 beside him. I am no relation of Miss Grey's. My 
 only claim on her affection was that which she ac 
 knowledged as most powerful I was poor, and 
 orphaned, and lonely, and desolate." 
 
 The man's eyes were wandering about the room. 
 " Her mother, is she dead ? " he inquired. 
 
 " No, she is asleep. This shock has been too 
 much for her," was the reply. 
 
 The man got up and took his hat, he looked about 
 uneasily and said something of going. 
 
 "No, no," Yensie pleaded, "do not go to-day. 
 Stay by these holy influences. Remember the life 
 and death of one who loved you for this one day. 
 Perhaps by God's grace you may be able to retrieve 
 your manhood." 
 
 " I have no manhood," he said, despairingly ; " I 
 have no manhood ! " 
 
 " Then ask God to create for you another," she 
 said, earnestly. 
 
 "Why should he?" said the man, self-reproach- 
 fully. " How dare I ask him to ? I squandered, 
 wasted, lost, that he gave me ; why should he trust 
 me again ? Ah, no, it is of no use. I sometimes 
 doubt if there is a God, I should always if it were
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 335 
 
 not for such as she was. It is useless to talk," he 
 went on, seeing the girl about to speak ; " you do 
 not know what I am. If you did you would be 
 afraid to speak to me ; afraid to be alone with me 
 one moment." 
 
 " No, I should not be," said Yensie, hastily ; " for 
 whatever you have been, to-day you are a gentle 
 man, and by God's grace will always be hereafter. 
 Alice prayed for you and she never prayed in vain. 
 If she were here to-day she would tell you that Je 
 sus came to seek and to save those who were lost." 
 
 " Yes, the lost like her and you," he said, ironi 
 cally. " I tell you, Miss Walton, God would be 
 less than God, did he refuse to take her to heaven ; 
 but I I have spurned my mother's prayers ; tram 
 pled on human hearts ; and struck the blow which 
 undermined her life. My God, what am I but a 
 murderer, even by my own confession ? " 
 
 " You are indeed lost, Mr. Wilde," said Yensie, 
 with tears ; " but not so lost that Jesus cannot 
 reach you, or so foul that His blood cannot 
 cleanse." 
 
 " Do you know to whom you speak ? " he asked 
 with a smile which was horrible ; " did she tell you 
 how I wronged her ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the girl, " I know it all. I know 
 had she been other than a child of God, you 
 would have wrecked her. But every blow that 
 strikes a Christian soul drives it nearer God, and
 
 836 FENSIE WALTON. 
 
 from your cruel planting she harvested a store of 
 golden grain." 
 
 He interrupted her, almost fiercely. " What do 
 I know of God's children ? I only know I sinned 
 against the most spotless woman that ever trod 
 this earth ; yet, I tell you " his voice lower 
 ing, his eyes gleaming "I tell you that was but 
 one chapter of a life whose every subsequent page 
 was quite as foul. How thsn dare you say to me 
 hope, pardon, salvation ? I tell you, there is none 
 such for me." 
 
 " He is able also to save them to the uttermost 
 that come unto God by Him, seeing he ever liveth 
 to make intercession for them," was all Yensie 
 dared to say with those fierce eyes upon her. 
 
 He stooped to pick up the hat he had dropped 
 in his vehemence ; she turned quickly to the par 
 lor door and with her hand upon the knob 
 beckoned him to follow her. 
 
 He did so mechanically. 
 
 Upon the large, old-fashioned mahogan} r table, 
 in the centre of the room, lay all that remained of 
 Alice Grey. Yensie drew away the sheet from 
 the quiet face with its smiling lips, and for the 
 first time in long, long years, Walter Wilde gazed 
 on the face of the woman he had injured. The 
 agony of his face was unspeakable ; and he lifted 
 his eyes beseechingly to the face of his companion. 
 
 The young girl understood that mute request, 
 and going out softly closed the door and left him
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 337 
 
 with the dead. She went to the chamber door 
 and listened ; Mrs. Grey's regular breathing told 
 she still slept, and seating herself in the rocker, 
 Yensie prayed for the stricken man who stood 
 above the form of her dead friend. 
 
 After what seemed to Yensie a long, long time, 
 she arose, and opening the parlor door peeped in. 
 Walter was still standing as she had left him, that 
 look of unutterable agony upon his face. 
 
 Softly she closed the door and flinging herself 
 upon her knees, cried unto God, that at this hour 
 the Holy Spirit might visit that soul, revealing to 
 him his sins and his Saviour ; that now, so early, 
 Alice's prayers might be answered. 
 
 Another hour dragged by, the house was very 
 still, and for any sound of life that came from the 
 parlor, one might have judged that both its in 
 mates were alike dead. 
 
 Presently the young girl rose again and opened 
 the door. He had changed his position to a kneeling 
 one, that was all ; the two hands that lay on the 
 table beside the dead, supported the same horror- 
 stricken, despairing face as was there before. 
 
 Yensie advanced into the room, but he did not 
 hear her ; she laid one hand gently on his arm, say 
 ing : " Walter, Walter, poor boy, can you not 
 trust God?" 
 
 He lifted his eyes at the tender words and meet 
 ing her look of sympathy a groan burst from his
 
 338 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 pale lips, the first sound that had escaped them 
 since first he gazed on the face of the dead. 
 
 " O wretch, wretch that I am," he moaned. " I 
 am such a sinner, such a sinner." 
 
 " Thank God," said Yensie, fervently. Thank 
 God you know yourself a sinner. He came to 
 save sinners." 
 
 " But not such as me," groaned the poor 
 stricken wretch. " No, do not touch me," he 
 went on. " I feel that such contact would sully 
 an imp of darkness. O God, I wish I too were 
 dead ! " 
 
 Yensie shuddered at the fearful wish. 
 
 " O Walter," she cried, " you know not what 
 you say. If you are thus overwhelmed with your 
 guilt in the presence of a fellow mortal, how dare 
 you think of meeting the righteousness of God ; 
 Infinite purity, immaculate whiteness ? If Alice 
 could approach it only while hidden in Jesus, how 
 would your rude vileness dare to appear in its 
 presence, for, ' our God is a consuming fire ? ' ; 
 
 It was the first time in his life that Walter Wilde 
 had ever even conceived God. As her vivid words, 
 quickened by the Spirit, fell on his ears, he shud 
 dered and groaned afresh. 
 
 u O sin, sin," he cried, " my soul is crimson with 
 the blood of innocence! There is no hope for 
 me." 
 
 " 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 339 
 
 as white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, 
 they $hall be as wool,' " whispered Yensie. 
 
 He shivered. " I learned that at my mother's 
 knee when I was pure," he said. 
 
 " And mother and Alice wait you at God's 
 throne," she whispered. "Be pure again." 
 
 " But my sins, my sins," again cried the wretch 
 ed man. " If I could be pure from this moment 
 what of my past ? that, that alas, is irrevocable." 
 
 " But not irreparable, thank God," said Yensie, 
 tenderly. " Let the past be under the blood and 
 neither man nor angel can read it, and God has 
 promised not to remember it against us ; yea more, 
 listen to what Isaiah says : ' Thou hast in love to my 
 soul delivered it from the pit of corruption ; for 
 thou hast cast all my sins behind thy back.'' Give 
 your sins to Jesus, Walter, and let him wash your 
 sins away." 
 
 " God bless yu," he said, brokenly ; " you are 
 like her and would hope even against hope. You 
 do not know the terrible appetites I have fed, which 
 demon-like have been knawing at my vitals. I 
 should have to be a new man, entirely new." 
 
 " Yes, that is it. A new man in Christ Jesus,' " 
 answered the girl. " O Walter, do you realize, 
 that terribly as you have sinned against others and 
 against yourself, you have sinned yet more against 
 God ? " 
 
 " No, I don't know that I do," he said. I don't 
 know what I realize, only my soul is travelling
 
 340 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 through the fires of hell, the fires of hell ; and the 
 demon of remorse is piling dark remembrances to 
 feed the flames." 
 
 Just then, Yensie heard a peevish call from the 
 bed-room. 
 
 " I must go," she said, " but O Walter, pray 
 to God, and I will beseech him to show you not 
 only yourself, but your Saviour. For to see Him 
 without a realizing sense of self-helplessness, self- 
 sin, is to neglect him ; and to see self fully with 
 out seeing Him must be despair." 
 
 The girl then hastened to Mrs. Grey; washed 
 her face, smoothed her curls, and prepared her a 
 simple meal. Since the shock of her daughter's 
 death, the old lady seemed to have lost all the lit 
 tle strength she had before ; her intellect seemed 
 hopelessly shattered, and she fell into utter help 
 lessness and childishness. 
 
 Now she was very willing to be led to the 
 garden, and leaving her with a bright boquet, 
 Yensie hastened back to Walter. 
 
 He looked up now, as she entered, and asked 
 with touching simplicity : " What shall I do ? " 
 
 " Give yourself unreservedly, and forever to 
 God," was the unhesitating reply. " This is our 
 dead, Walter. Both you and I are losing most of 
 earth in losing her. Now, here above our dead, 
 let us covenant to meet her at God's throne by 
 and by." 
 
 She stretched her hand to him across the dead
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 341 
 
 as she spoke , he hesitated, as if weighing her 
 words, then, placing his hand in hers, he said, 
 " I will, God helping me." 
 
 " Let us pra} r ," whispered Yensie. softly ; and 
 there they knelt, one on either side of the dead. 
 When she had prayed she whispered : " Now you 
 pray, Walter." 
 
 " I know no prayer," he said, " but, ' God be 
 merciful to me, a sinner,' and He knows I offer it 
 from out the depths of my poor, wretched heart." 
 
 When they stood up again, he asked : " What 
 next?" 
 
 " Just what God bids. We will have no will 
 but his now," she said. " And yet, I think that 
 Alice left a work undone for you to finish." 
 
 He looked up eagerly. 
 
 " I mean her mother," continued the girl. " She 
 is very old and frail, and needs some arm to lean 
 on." 
 
 " I am but a broken reed," he said ; " but you do 
 not know her, Miss Walton. She would not ac 
 cept my help. She will drive me away when she 
 knows I am here, just as she drove me further into 
 sin years ago, when out of a repentant heart I 
 begged her but to let me see Alice one moment, 
 and ask her forgiveness." 
 
 He spoke bitterly ; but Yensie whispered : " ' For 
 give us our trespasses as we forgive those who tres 
 pass against us.' You will put that behind you.
 
 342 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 She is different now; weak and childish, and, I 
 think, will be very glad to have you with her." 
 
 " But what can I do ? You forget I am totally 
 wrecked," he said, sadly. 
 
 "No," she said, smiling; "but I remember you 
 are but newly launched, and not used to the billows 
 of divine grace and love. He will help you now, 
 always, for you are His, having given yourself to 
 him." 
 
 " Let me tell you," he said, still sadly. After 
 Mrs. Grey turned me away, I grew worse and 
 worse. At first I did well in my profession, be 
 came known and largely employed. I might have 
 amassed a fortune ere this, had I worked with a 
 purpose. 
 
 " I married after a while, hoping so to forget 
 Alice. Alas ! I only made another wretched, and 
 myself doubly so. My wife and the child she bore 
 me died within a month of each other, the second 
 year of my marriage ; then I went to the bad fast. 
 Every year found me more reckless and shiftless, 
 and lately I have lived almost entirely on the re 
 ceipts of former years, and what I took up by 
 helping some brainless would-be, that I might have 
 wherewith to gratify my taste for strong drink. I 
 am nothing, have nothing but sins and appetites." 
 
 " And God's grace," added the young girl. 
 
 " Yes, but the battle will be hard. The enemy 
 we fight is relentless." 
 
 " And the Captain of our salvation all victori-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 343 
 
 cms," said the girl, cheerily. " He never knows 
 defeat. With a less powerful leader we might 
 fear, with Jesus, never. 
 
 ' To doubt would be disloyalty, 
 To falter would be sin.' " 
 
 He almost smiled. " But what can I do to re 
 trieve myself, to support Mrs. Grey?" he ques 
 tioned. 
 
 " He knows. Only one step at a time, Walter. 
 The Lord will provide. Now you must come with 
 me and get something to eat." 
 
 " I cannot eat." 
 
 " Then a cup of coffee," she urged, and he fol 
 lowed her without a word. 
 
 " There," she said, leading him to the kitchen, 
 and pouring out a steaming cup of coffee, " you 
 must drink that ; you look weak." 
 
 " I am weak," he answered. " I feel as if I had 
 been wading through hell this last hour hell upon 
 earth." 
 
 " Which is so much better," she said, gently, 
 " than an eternity of torment hereafter. You will 
 find water, and towels, and comb there," pointing to 
 a door; "and after you have refreshed yourself, 
 come and meet Mrs. Grey and myself in the gar 
 den. I will prepare the way for you." 
 
 And with his hand still on the cup, he watched 
 her as she flitted down the garden path, repeating
 
 344 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 tremulously her words : " So much better than an 
 eternity of torment hereafter." 
 
 Yensie found the old lady picking a bright-hued 
 blossom to pieces, while she whispered to herself. 
 
 " Mrs. Grey," she said, abruptly, as she seated 
 herself beside her, " Mrs. Grey, Walter Wilde is 
 here." 
 
 " Walter Wilde Walter Wilde," repeated the 
 old lady, thoughtfully, as if trying to recall some 
 thing. Yensie came to her aid. 
 
 " Do you not remember a young man of that 
 name, who was acquainted with your daughters? 
 A law student, I think he was then." 
 
 " Oh yes," briskly responded her companion. 
 " Why, of course, Walter Wilde. I am beginning 
 to forget everything. Why, he was the husband 
 of my Lois. I think I did not know it for a while 
 though." 
 
 Yensie sighed. The old lady's mind seemed to 
 tally wrecked since yesterday. " Well, Walter is 
 in the house now. Would you like to see him ? " 
 she said. 
 
 " Like to see my Lois's husband ! Certainly. 
 Any one she loved is dear to me. Where is he? 
 Why did you not bring him to me at once ? " 
 
 "You forget he is tired and travel- worn, and 
 needed to refresh himself," said Yensie, soothingly. 
 " He will be here to greet you, presently." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I forget everything," replied the old
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 345 
 
 lady, smiling ; " but you remember what is becom 
 ing a guest. Is he lying down ? " 
 
 " No, I left him about to partake of some refresh 
 ment ; and, Mrs. Grey, please do not speak of Lois 
 to him. He came to see Alice, and is sad enough 
 to find she is beyond his greeting. It will but give 
 him fresh pain to bring Lois to his remembrance." 
 
 " To be sure. You are very considerate, child. 
 Yes, I will try to remember,'' answered the lady. 
 " Of course he will not wish to recall his loss. 
 And my poor Alice, my poor Alice ; how strange to 
 think she died upon her knees ! " 
 
 " Her life and death were alike prayerful,'' 
 replied Yensie, through her tears. " No murmur, 
 no* strife, no moan, the end of life accorded well 
 with its entirety. I'm glad since she must 
 go 'twas thus." 
 
 There was little to do but comfort others in the 
 days between the death and funeral of Alice 
 Grey. After the burial but three lingered by the 
 grave. It was a sight Yensie never forgot, the 
 handsome yet childish old lady, leaning on the 
 arm of the dark-browed man, whose cheeks were 
 furrowed with tears as he bowed above the graves 
 of his infant son and his early love. 
 
 No one but God knew of the hours of struggle 
 he passed that night, or how he wrestled with 
 knees bent on the very spot, where Alice met her
 
 346 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 angel escort wrestled for enough of grace to 
 live ; for just one ray of light ahead. 
 
 In the days that followed, Yensie and he held 
 many anxious deliberations. There had been no 
 trouble about bringing Mrs. Grey to accept his 
 support and care. " Who should care for me if 
 not the husband of my Lois ? " she said, and if 
 his heart said ought, his lips were shut as he lis 
 tened. 
 
 But Walter felt the chances small to earn a liv 
 ing there. " Why not go to the city ? " 
 
 " It would not do to uproot Mrs. Grey," Yensie 
 answered to this. " She will not be here long, 
 Walter, and meanwhile you can be gaining 
 strength away from evil associates. Something 
 will surely come. Perhaps you can get a chance to 
 copy, or take care of a garden, anything honest." 
 
 But this was very distasteful to Walter. 
 
 " You forget, Miss Walton, that I have been an 
 eminent lawyer," he said. 
 
 " And an eminent sinner," she answered. " No, 
 I have not forgotten. Now you are a new man, 
 and if in giving you new hope, God calls you to a 
 humble station for a time, you will show the sin 
 cerity of your love by unquestioning obedience." 
 
 " But, Miss Walton, I am not a new man. I 
 have no such experience as yours, or that of any 
 other Christian of which I have heard. I want 
 to do right ; I pray for light ; I have set my sig 
 nature to the papers which make me His slave
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 347 
 
 but He has not set His seal thereto yet, ratifying 
 the bargain. I am surrounded by thick darkness 
 which I cannot pierce. I do not see my way." 
 
 " But God sees it," she said, promptly, " and 
 you must let him take your hand and lead you. 
 By faith, not by sight or feeling, that is the walk 
 he calls you to, and it is a sign of his great favor. 
 It is as safe with God at night, as at any other 
 time." 
 
 " Yes, if one is sure He is with him," he said, 
 sadly. 
 
 " Have you not given yourself to him ? " she 
 inquired. 
 
 " Over and over again, I have tried to do so," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " Walter, if you had given me a gift, you would 
 know it. Religion is sensible, if you have given 
 God your heart you know that, and when you do, 
 he does accept, or break his word, which is impos 
 sible. 'If we confess our sins he is faithful and 
 just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from 
 all unrighteousness ! ' He says to you, ' Take the 
 water of life freely,' and you must, as you would 
 take a drink of tea or coffee from my hand. He 
 says too, 'Son, give me thine heart,' and that 
 must be done and sensibly. It is a blessed ex 
 change, a sinful heart for eternal life." 
 
 He did not answer her ; but again that night 
 in the chamber consecrated evermore by the
 
 348 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 prayerful life and peaceful death of Alice Grey, 
 he offered once more, his heart to God. 
 
 Time was hastening away, and Yensie would 
 soon be obliged to return to school. She prayed 
 earnestly that God would give Walter grace now 
 to know, to realize his acceptance. She could not 
 go away and leave him thus. 
 
 One day she went to see the good old minister 
 whose sermon had so helped Alice Grey the last 
 day she lived. Did you ever thank God for min 
 isters, reader? Are they not the receptacles where 
 grief, and care, and fear, are wont to hide ? The 
 rivers into whose bosoms the streams and rills of 
 human woe and sorrow empty ? God-given escape- 
 valves ? Well might the great apostle say, " We 
 in Christ's stead." 
 
 This good old man listened to that part of 
 Walter's story she felt it best to divulge, and was 
 soon enlisted to hunt him up employment. 
 
 " Yes, yes, he must have work, if we have to 
 make it for him," he said. " You. say he is a young 
 man of ability? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, he was quite eminent once in his pro 
 fession, but he is not very young. He must be 
 forty." 
 
 " And that looks aged to you," said the good 
 man, smiling; "but when one reaches seventy, 
 fort}' still looks young." 
 
 There were da} r s when Walter was very restless ; 
 when old appetites were clamorous to be satisfied,
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 349 
 
 and he had all he could do to fight them down. 
 Yensie began to know these days, and in one way 
 or another, now by a cup of coffee, now by some 
 kindly word, helped him to be brave. 
 
 One day she saw he was more tried than usual. 
 She went to the window several times and watched 
 him, as with such restless, hurried tread he paced 
 the garden paths. 
 
 She turned to the kitchen ; the fire was out. 
 She feared if she stopped to kindle it and make 
 coffee, he would be gone, for she had noticed sev 
 eral times his longing, questioning glance turned 
 to the village. 
 
 She was right. But even as his trembling hand 
 sought the latch of the garden gate, he heard her 
 voice calling, and with hat on, book under her 
 arm, she joined him. 
 
 " May I walk with you? " she said. How could 
 he refuse her ? and so ere long he found himself 
 sitting on a rock close to the garden bench, where 
 she sat sewing, he reading to her. 
 
 He could not tell at first what he read. She 
 knew his thoughts were wandering, but it kept him 
 there, and by and by, after she remarked several 
 times on something he read, he grew interested, 
 and re-read, of his own accord, a verse of poetry 
 that struck him forcibly, commenting on its sweet 
 ness. 
 
 Then she excused herself, and going to the 
 house, soon returned with a pitcher of lemonade.
 
 350 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 As she passed him the glass, he read in her face 
 the consciousness of his struggle, and he said, fer 
 vently, " God bless you ; if ever I regain manhood, 
 I shall have you as well as God to thank." 
 
 A few days after, when Walter was away, the 
 old clerg3 r man called to tell her of work found. 
 Some old documents a friend desired copied. 
 When they were done, he thought there would be 
 more. When Walter came home, Yensie told him. 
 
 He did not say a word, but she knew there was 
 a struggle going on within his heart. Passing into 
 his chamber, she heard him pacing up and down 
 for a long while ; presently the steps ceased, and 
 then she prayed that God would meet him there 
 then with direct assurance of his sonship prayed 
 earnestly, trustfully, as she had not been able to do 
 before. 
 
 He did not come out until summoned to supper, 
 but there was a look in his eyes as they met hers, 
 then quite new. Not joy, but peace ; and after 
 the dear old lady slept, and the twilight hour was 
 come, she asked him, quietly, if he had anything to 
 tell her. 
 
 " Yes, Yensie," he said, for the first time using 
 that name, " I have met the Lord. I understand 
 your precious verse now, ' Peace I leave with you, 
 my peace I give unto you.' He has given it to me 
 because I am willing to take it as a gift, an unde 
 served favor. You can go back to school, I think, 
 without a fear. I will go this very night and ac-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 351 
 
 cept the copying ; anything for Jesus. Yensie, if 
 we never meet again here, you and I will meet 
 Alice there. I am so sure. This is so sweet, so 
 very sweet. I never knew before what it meant 
 to be a Christian. Now I am one myself, thank 
 God." And Yensie wept tears of joy. 
 
 He went, as he said, and accepted the copying, 
 and from her chamber Yensie heard him that night 
 singing softly to himself as he locked the house and 
 prepared for bed. 
 
 Was it his mother's hymn, or Alice Grey's, or 
 that of all the blood-washed throng the years 
 adown? " There is a fountain filled with blood."
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " He drew me and I followed on 
 Charmed to confess the voice divine." 
 
 Hymn. 
 
 ,ENSIE never knew how desolate, how 
 dreary the cottage appeared to Walter 
 Wilde after she left it, or with what a sad 
 weight upon his heart he again took up his work. 
 Her light step, and cheery voice, and encouraging 
 words were all missed, and not alone by him. 
 Mrs. Grey was bitter in her complainings, and the 
 old domestic, who had been persuaded to remain, 
 declared herself homesick. But Walter listened 
 patiently to his mother-in law's grievances, and 
 tried to fill Yensie's place, so forgetting his own 
 
 loss. 
 
 852
 
 YENSIE WALTON". 353 
 
 It was a hard discipline for him, but a necessary 
 and blessed one, this being bound to that old 
 querulous life. And in the few months between 
 his conversion and her death, his experience had 
 abundant trial. Through added kindness to her 
 he strove to atone for the pain he had brought 
 Alice, and when she was gone and he free to again 
 enter the world, he was better fitted to meet life's 
 temptations because of the patient endurance 
 gained in those hours of dreary watching. 
 
 As for Yensie, she began her new school year 
 with great depression of spirits. Removed from 
 the necessity of exerting herself to help others 
 her loss weighed heavily upon her, and Madame 
 became alarmed at her increasing pallor and 
 fatigue. 
 
 She urged Yensie to give up this year's study, 
 and rest. " I dread to part with you, but I fear to 
 have you study while you appear so ill." 
 
 But Yensie was determined to remain, so 
 Madame wrote to her uncle and she received a 
 summons home. There, she soon resumed her old 
 spirits, and Jessie perceived this through her 
 letters. 
 
 " You have brought me into a terrible fix," 
 wrote Miss Crafton. " You know I only at 
 tempted this year's course to be near you. Alas, 
 behold now niy forlorn condition. I have tried to 
 lose my appetite, or induce pallor, in vain. I took 
 a whole box of Ayer's pills ; roses still bloomed as
 
 354 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 if to mock me. I shall reward jou, however, by 
 spending Christmas at Valley Farm, and getting 
 acquainted with the beau who has so soon revived 
 your flagging spirits. 
 
 " Until death and after, your 
 
 " JESS." 
 
 Yensie had not been long home ere she heard 
 much talk about an expected visitor. " It is my 
 big brother George," said Fred, mysteriously. 
 " He will be here for Thanksgiving." 
 
 Beyond this Fred would not go, but laughed at 
 all her questioning. She appealed to Uncle John 
 and was satisfied. 
 
 " George, why,' he's my adopted son. Of course 
 you never heard of him. You see, Sally and I 
 were married a good many years before we had a 
 child, and as I hankered after them I took little 
 George from an orphan asylum ; had rale papers 
 made out and signed. I took to him awful, but 
 your aunt never did. He was rather high-strung 
 and we had much the times as when you and she 
 got fiery. He was quite a big lad and no little 
 help when he ran away. I didn't make much fuss 
 to find him, I thought he'd be happier away from 
 Sally, and we never heard from him until two 
 months ago. Then we got a letter. He said he 
 was hearty, and anxious to see his old father, the 
 Lord bless him," and Mr. Walton wiped his eyes. 
 
 " He sent a message to' mother, too. He said
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 355 
 
 since he had got religion, he made no doubt he 
 had been a bud boy, and tried her patience a lot 
 (but that's not true, not a word of it). Hows'ever, 
 he asked forgiveness, and said he would be here to 
 eat Thanksgiving dinner with us." 
 
 Certainly Aunt Sarah seemed determined to 
 prepare such a dinner as was never seen at Valley 
 Farm before. Everybody was busy, even to Fred, 
 who stoned raisins, and picked currants and 
 berries, and whistled outrageously. 
 
 The afternoon before Thanksgiving came, and 
 all Valley Farm awaited company, from Aunt Sarah 
 in her big figured delaine with a purple ground, 
 and stiffly starched checked apron, to the cat that 
 lay purring upon the best rug in the parlor. 
 
 Said parlor, Mildred and Yensie had made sun 
 dry attempts to have look cheerful and home-like, 
 as if sometimes used. But every chair they set at 
 angles Aunt Sarah's careful hand straightened; 
 and the books they so generously scattered about, 
 were all piled up again, while the good woman 
 wondered, " what on airth them gals meant by 
 settin' things all askew." 
 
 Milly looked gay and pretty in her blue dress 
 and while muslin apron, ruffled by Yensie, espe 
 cially for this occasion ; and our friend found her 
 self arranging her hair with particular care, and 
 adding a gay bit of ribbon to light the sombreness 
 of her dress. 
 
 Fred grew very impatient as the afternoon passed,
 
 356 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 and went back and forth between the house and 
 gate, as if his activity might increase that of the 
 grey horses which headed the village coach. 
 
 By and by, Uncle John announced the coach as 
 nearing, and, O joy, it stopped before the gate, and 
 a dark whiskered man stepped out. 
 
 There was a general springing forward to the 
 door ; and Yensie, who stood back, saw the ruddy 
 faced man grasp her uncle's hand, while he said : 
 " God bless you, father," in a husky voice. Then 
 Aunt Sarah was greeted with a hearty kiss ; 
 Milly with another, and Fred swung up to the 
 strong shoulder, crutch and all. 
 
 " What ! here is another little sister, I declare," 
 said the hearty voice, and another moment he 
 had Yensie's hand in his, and his bearded lips to 
 hers. 
 
 "I thought you had only one daughter, from 
 your letter, father." 
 
 " Well, I suppose most folks think that's all I 
 have," answered Mr. Walton, "but I see no dif 
 ference in my love for the two. She's an adopted 
 daughter, George." And George said, still hold 
 ing the hand he had taken : 
 
 " Then I suppose I ought to love her best, see 
 ing we are alike in this respect. I wonder," 
 stooping that only she might hear, whether this 
 little girl was ever adopted into the family of 
 God?" 
 "'Her bright, quick glance told him as much as
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 357 
 
 her words. " I trust so," and he added, fervenfly, 
 " Thank God." 
 
 After supper that night, George had a long story 
 to tell of his life and fortunes, and few have more 
 interested listeners. 
 
 Mr. Walton wiped his eyes repeatedly on his red 
 handkerchief, as the young man related his first 
 weary search for labor, hungry and almost dis 
 heartened ; of his landing in the far West after a 
 long voyage, and being employed, finally, by a 
 small farmer in Michigan. As he told how, by dil 
 igence, he added to his master's farm and fortune, 
 and made himself a necessity, good old Uncle John 
 broke out repeatedly with his hearty, " That's 
 right, now." " Just like ye." " Always was a 
 good boy." " Knowed you'd come right end up." 
 
 " Well, you see," continued George, " to make 
 a long story short, I married Mary ; she was the 
 old man's daughter. It came kind of natural like 
 that I should ; she was always good and kind to 
 me, and I never thought she had an equal ; kind 
 and gentle like she was. 
 
 " When the old man died he left us the farm 
 and it was a farm by that time ; but Mary didn't 
 stay long to enjoy it. After our little girl was 
 born, she kind of drooped like, and nothing seemed 
 to do her good, and by and by she died." 
 
 Here George stopped a moment and wiped his 
 eyes. 
 
 "I suppose it was the Lord calling after me.
 
 358 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 The young parson said it was, but I didn't need, 
 somehow, only I felt awful lonesome, and hung on 
 to the little one as if she'd kind of make up for it. 
 But before long she pined and sickened just like 
 her mother, and I was left alone. 
 
 " Well, that didn't bring me. I knew I wasn't 
 ready to follow them, and got kinder oneasy, but 
 it wore off after awhile, and I don't know as I'd 
 a been a Christian to this day if it hadn't been for 
 young Parson Gardenell; somehow he brought 
 things home as others couldn't." 
 
 Yensie felt her heart leap as George spoke that 
 familiar name. Pier uncle looked towards her in 
 quiringly. 
 
 " That couldn't be our young minister, could it, 
 Yensie ? " he questioned. 
 
 B.ut before Yensie could answer, George burst 
 out with, " Now, I'm hit exactly. Yensie, you call 
 her? Why, yes, that's what he called her. Kind 
 of stupid in me not to remember. He spoke about 
 your other girl here, but said she was a niece. 
 Herbert Gardenell, that's his name, and he's the 
 same that was here when Violet died." 
 
 All looked surprised at this mention of Violet, 
 and the added color of Yensie's cheek, and the 
 eagerness of Uncle John's face, showed that the 
 appearance of the young minister had added inter 
 est to the tale, for at least two of the listeners. 
 
 " You see it was this way," said George, explain 
 ing. " I never was over fond of ministers, or such
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 359 
 
 like ; but there was so much talk about this fellow 
 that I went to hear him preach, part out of curi 
 osity, part to please an old chum, who had stood 
 by me through thick and thin. 
 
 " He's a big fellow, this Gardenell," here Uncle 
 John nodded an affirmative. "I kind of liked 
 that, and then he seemed to know what he talked 
 about. I always did like a fellow who knew how 
 to handle himself, and looked of a size to make 
 folks believe him, whether they would or not." 
 Yensie, at whom he was looking just now, had all 
 she could do to keep from laughing at this novel 
 way of enforcing truth; but George answered 
 the merry twinkle of her eye with a smile, and 
 went on. 
 
 " Somehow, I felt this young parson was more 
 than a match in most ways for any of us hadn't 
 done as much swearing, likely and when I heard 
 some low kind of chaps talking about shutting his 
 mouth, or some such, I just let them know that I'd 
 help him settle accounts with any of them ; but 
 they didn't try it. He had a new way of settling, 
 unknown to me. 
 
 " I never quite understood what it was about 
 that young man, but he took the roughest of them 
 right off their feet ; and one night he had half the 
 congregation up for prayers at once. 
 
 " I never knew what took me there so often. I 
 declare I couldn't help it. I used to go home 
 every night, saying, ' that's my last of meetin' ;
 
 360 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 he's not going to fetch me on my knees like old 
 Bob Rankins. I ain't no such miserable trash. I 
 suppose it's all well enough for such. But the 
 thought would come, the young parson himself 
 thought he needed it, and there's no trash about 
 him ; and there wasn't either. I felt like taking 
 iny hat off to his shadow, so I did ; and I wasn't 
 the only one. Fact, shiny eyes," this to Yensie, 
 whose eyes were shining with joy. 
 
 " I declare to you," continued George, " that 
 smile of his used to make me think of my mother, 
 if I ever had one, and I expect I had way back 
 somewhere. It's certain I never see one sort of a 
 smile without being homesick for her, and his was 
 just such ; and yet there wasn't any soft or woman 
 about him, anyway ; not a bit of it. 
 
 " Well, I held on awful long, as it seems to me 
 now, but a kind of stubbornness had taken hold on 
 me. I heard the young parson say, the first night 
 in his prayer, that he didn't want to leave the vil 
 lage until every soul that intended to have a share 
 in the New Jerusalem had made sure of their pos 
 sessions. I thought then, here's one tljat, isu'jt 
 going to hurry himself J^r,, you; but I; began to 
 hanker to, after all. 
 
 , "^Vhen.he'4 tell,f the blessed home, and the 
 tender welcome^.and the loving Saviour ; and him 
 self J.uipt as like ^.alj, #s could . be this side the 
 river, I'd kind of long for it. Then, too, one old 
 comrade after another got religion and went over
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 361 
 
 on the other side ; and I got lonesome like and 
 jealous, and kind of concluded that if I would go 
 to hell I must go alone. 
 
 " And then, I sort of thought God was to blame 
 partial like ; for he had made the others all over 
 given them the new birth (you see I didn't know 
 what that was then, only I saw they were as dif 
 ferent from what they used to be as black from 
 white) when some of them had been regular ras 
 cals, and had passed by a good, honest fellow like 
 myself. Quite capable, too ; and do you know, 
 for awhile I made myself believe God had got the 
 worst of it. 
 
 " But Gardenell rooted all that out of me by a 
 sermon he preached one night, on ' The publican 
 and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before 
 you.' Wasn't I cut up, though ? I made sure he 
 
 J Jr . o : . , 
 
 had read my thoughts ; I hadn't a leg to stand on, 
 
 . ) Jim V I'mF. .. , ,. nui,ioJ 
 
 but 1 crawled out ot that meetm somehow. 1 
 
 harlots. If I 
 
 very next night the parson had tor Ins 
 
 text, "' There is no other name under heaven.' No, 
 . 3JJJ <!_. . '\S;LL ;J7-'< ) ,-b > . 'jUl~,J,Jj.iJl 
 thought I, but there ought to oe a different way 
 
 ~ flJn J7 jitJ . ill , T -. , , ' i'^\ j-*U-i , - 
 
 ior respectable people. But he settled ,that too. 
 
 DILC . . -, , ' r - J.T ' ; ^ ,1 ' : j.'' ..t; l 
 
 ' Jesus said, { I am the way, and the truth, and 
 ,, -?J^"K', ; Ji T , T '.'oj .'ir,'j ^i 1 '' 1 ^ - 1 - ^jM 1 !^ 
 
 the life, said he, and again, 'I, am the door or the 
 
 sneep.' ''He that entereth'not oy "the door, into 
 
 , .fj-i v jiri A. , .. , ,. ,, 
 
 the sheep-fold, but climbeth up some other way, 
 
 the same is a thief and a robber.' Then hb
 
 362 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 described the sneaking robber, who enters the 
 house at night by the window, and I began to feel 
 mean. Just then he called out at the top of his 
 voice : " Are you here, respectable sinner ? Are 
 you here, boasting of your honesty to your fellows 
 and trying to cheat heaven, too good to walk in at 
 the door of the kingdom, but willing to steal in 
 some other way ? ' I began to tremble then ; I 
 made sure he'd call my name next ; but he didn't. 
 
 " But by and by when he had cooled off more, 
 he told us that every man had a right to say how 
 his neighbor should enter his house ; and if they 
 were not willing to comply with his demands they 
 should stay away. It always looked suspicious to 
 see a man half way up a house, towards the win 
 dow even in daylight, but if it was night and 
 nobody around it looked worse. I knew that was 
 me going into the kingdom a new way and with 
 out telling anyone. 
 
 " It looked kind of sensible like too, that God 
 should have a right to do and say about his own 
 kingdom as much as I'd like to about my house, 
 and there was only one of two things left for me ; 
 I must stay away altogether, or take the old road. 
 
 " That night I took down Mary's Bible and 
 found the verse he had quoted in the tenth of 
 John. Yes, Jesus said it, I saw that in black and 
 white ; I didn't sleep any too much that night. 
 
 " Well, I kept away from the meetin' a^vhile 
 after that, but one night I got kind of restless.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 363 
 
 The house was uncommon lonesome, my old 
 chums hud most of them been converted and, by 
 and by, I thought I'd just like to see how Gard- 
 enell handled it for others ; (seemed to me he had 
 settled my case for me) and I did kind of wonder 
 if he hadn't about played out most of the tunes 
 worth much. I didn't know much about the 
 Bible then ; I find its strings ain't so easily num 
 bered. 
 
 " The parson had been working hard then for a 
 month and I'd a thought he'd got tired. But he 
 was fresh every night ; seemed to relish preach 
 ing took to it like a fish to water. I was late 
 that night and he had begun to preach. 
 
 " He was just telling a story, as I went in about 
 a little dying one. 1 shall never forget it. It just 
 seemed to me I could see the blue eyes looking 
 into his face, and hear the young girl sing, and 
 catch sight of the angels waiting for her while she 
 told him to tell the children that they need not 
 wait to grow big, Jesus loved them now; he had 
 saved her. 
 
 " It was just like poetry or a picture, every bit 
 of it, and when the story was ended he began to 
 sing. 
 
 " I clinched my hat and rushed out. I made 
 sure I should die if I didn't get out or go to that 
 altar. I was dreadful broken up. It made me 
 think of my own little babe. 
 
 k ' All the way to the school-house that night I'd
 
 364 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 been saying to myself : ' It's no use, George, you'd 
 better give it up. God doesn't want any starched 
 up sinners; you're worse than Bob, by a good 
 deal, for though he was a miserable old sinner, he 
 owned up to it honest might as well be honest 
 with God anyway. There's a little of the man 
 about old Bob ; but you, George Rogers, you've 
 been picking up all the old straw and rotten bits 
 of wood this month past to build a ladder that 
 wouldn't half hold your self-righteous weight any 
 how, just to make a robber of yourself, and climb 
 into the sheep-fold some other way. You've been 
 trying to cheat God and have cheated yourself. 
 There's no salvation for you ; God don't need 
 such, and wouldn't stoop to save you.' 
 
 "But when I went into the meetin' and heard 
 that story, it seemed as if it was meant for me. 
 It was for children, I know ; but. bless y$u, I never 
 sawa ; babe as small as I felt th%t,nighfc; ,a.pmt$Q.t 
 would have held me. 
 
 JKJ" Well, I was wretched. I went, home, that 
 night, saying, 'it's no use;' but every ,t^mq, ^ 
 think I could hear little Violet saying, 'He'll .save 
 
 " I bought a cigar as I went home, and thought 
 J//JL smpke i^ off, ,bujt that was the kind of convic 
 tion that can't be smoked put. The longer I 
 smoked the worse . I . felt, and I threw a way. my 
 cigar at last, and cried out on my knees, ' If you'll 
 only show your face, Lord, only one gleam of light,
 
 YENSIE WAI/TON. 865 
 
 I'll thank you, though I go to hell where I belong ; 
 but it was dark as pitch, and only that little 
 golden-haired baby shed one ray of sunlight, and 
 that I was afraid to stand under. 
 
 " I told the Lord at last I'd never smoke again ; 
 never take the best of any body in a bargain ; 
 never count myself anything but a sinner ; if he'd 
 only forgive me my sins. Still no light. 
 
 " The great drops of sweat began to fall, and I 
 told him I'd sell the farm and give it to the poor, 
 or work it and let old Widow Ryder and such as 
 her have all it brought in but my living ; but still 
 no use. You see I didn't understand. 
 
 " At last I grew desperate like, and off I started 
 to rout up the young minister. It was after twelve 
 o'clock, and he was in bed ; but he let me in, and 
 struck a light, so cheerful like, and then sat down 
 and took my hand as if I was his brother. 
 
 " I made a clean breast of it, I assure you, and 
 when I got through I found the parson's face was 
 wet with tears. 
 ,.,,'," It was the same old tempter, Rogers, in a dif- 
 
 J j J 4J ^ * *-J 
 
 feijent guise,' h^sai^'tHe same old wily fellow. 
 
 You qouldiLt steal religion, so he told you to buy 
 
 Ttjmni,rj jjurn^ Ofrs .ii;jj2 
 
 it ; that is equally impossible. It was bought on 
 
 Calvary eighteen hundred years ago, and you, and 
 I, and even- sinful child of man must take it as a 
 
 free gift.' And there we sat and talked till mbrn- 
 
 ii ' 
 
 ing brojio. 
 
 " ' Oh, how God must love you,' he said, when I
 
 366 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 was telling about the sermons, and how they hit. 
 ' Can't you see how Infinite love was using every 
 means to draw you ? First the mother, then the 
 babe, then a mouth with his message, and all 
 boundless love ! Oh, you can't doubt after all this. 
 You must believe he will and does receive you.' 
 
 " Then it all came over me, that the dear Lord 
 loved me, and I said, ' I'll never doubt Him again, 
 Parson.' And we got down on our knees, and he 
 thanked God in such a hearty way, as if He had 
 done him a favor in saving me. 
 
 " Afterwards I asked him how he came to know 
 just how to hit me, and he said, ' I didn't know 
 a word about it Rogers, but the Holy Spirit did, 
 and he led and directed me. I was only an instru 
 ment.' 
 
 " I was puzzled at his answer, but I thought I 
 had it at last, and said, ' I was a hard case, and so 
 you had special orders ; is that it, captain ? ' 
 
 " He smiled, but said, ' There are no hard cases 
 with God. A sinner is but a sinner ; it is sin, not 
 sins, God counts. If you stole a penny, Rogers, 
 you would be a thief as surely as if you. stole a 
 million pounds. Men might make a difference, but 
 God, none. The heart in both cases would be the 
 same ; a covetous heart desiring another's goods. 
 So any man, no matter how great a sinner he is, 
 can be saved. It takes no more, no less, to save 
 him. To bring only you to heaven Jesus must 
 needs have died ; and it cost no more to save mil-
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 367 
 
 lions. No hard cases Godward ; the difference, 
 the hardness, is all on the man side, on the yielding 
 side. I have known men who prided themselves 
 particularly on being hard cases for God to save, 
 simply because they were stubborn ; small cause 
 that for uplifting. A mule is not considered better 
 than a horse, and a man who is convinced an.d does 
 not yield at once, does violence to his own man 
 hood, and despite to the Spirit of God.' 
 
 " Once or twice that night he said, ' Little Violet, 
 the first sheaf of an abundant harvest is gathered 
 from your death, to-night.' So I asked him her 
 other name, and where she had lived, for I was so 
 full of thankfulness and joy, it seemed as if she 
 and everything else had been created on purpose 
 to help me to heaven ; and then he told me the 
 whole story, and I found it was my own precious 
 sister. Oh, father, how strange it seems that your 
 little Violet should bring your wandering boy back 
 to God and to you ! " 
 
 Old Uncle John was sobbing like a child, and 
 Aunt Sarah's eyes looked suspicious. Mildred and 
 Fred had both hidden their faces in their handker 
 chiefs; but while the tears were streaming over 
 Ycnsie's glowing face, she still kept her eyes on 
 George, as if she could not see enough of one who 
 had found Jesus through that which had cost her 
 such bitter heart-pangs. 
 
 " It was that night, or rather that morning, that 
 Mr. Gardenell told me of you," said George, ad-
 
 368 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 dressing Yensie. " He said you were little Violet's 
 cousin, and had taught her to love Jesus. So you 
 see, little sister, in one way I owe my salvation to 
 you." The young girl smiled brightly through her 
 tears. 
 
 " And then, father," continued the young man, 
 " he bade me write to you, and tell you all about 
 my conversion, and be sure to tell you how the 
 story of little Violet helped. I did try to write 
 it, but to no use. I am no scribe. So, as I began 
 to get homesick like for the old faces, I thought 
 I'd come and tell you the story." 
 
 " Where is Mr. Gardenell now ? " inquired Mr. 
 Walton, which was just the question Yensie 
 wished to ask. 
 
 " Travelling. I don't know that you'll ever see 
 him around these parts again ; won't if they can 
 keep him. lie told me lie went West to settle an 
 estate for an aunt, whose husband had died sud 
 denly ; found the people, many of them, had no 
 Sabbath service ; pitied them, and so preached to 
 them. That's just like him, you know, thought it 
 dreadful that anyone should live without knowing 
 and loving Jesus. 
 
 " Well, people liked his preaching, and after the 
 estate was settled, they kept sending for him, from 
 place to place, and everywhere the Lord blessed 
 him (always will) and he's been helping folks set 
 tle their claims to heavenly mansions ever since. 
 He left our town .soon after I was converted. I've
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 369 
 
 been to other places several times to hear him, but 
 not for awhile past. If he'd known I was coming 
 he'd have sent his love I'm sure, he loves every 
 body." 
 
 When George spoke of Mr. Gardenell's object 
 in going West, Yensie heard Mildred whisper to 
 her mother : " That's what he said when he was 
 here," and Aunt Sarah nodded a hasty assent. 
 The young girl longed to ask when that was, but 
 dared not, and so it passed by and she did not 
 know he had sought her.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " O thou God of all ! 
 
 Grant me some smaller grace than comes to these, 
 But so much patience as a blade of glass 
 Grows by contented through the heat and cold." 
 
 E. B. BARKETT. 
 
 ,T was a very new but pleasant experience, 
 this having a big brother in the house. 
 Everything took on a livelier aspect undei 
 his genial spirit. His hearty laugh rang through 
 the old house, provoking others to join in it, and 
 even Aunt Sarah could not wholly resist the 
 power and warmth of his presence. 
 
 To the girls he was always kind. Ready to d<? 
 any small chores, paying them attentions to which 
 they were unaccustomed. At first his demonstra 
 tive way of showing his affection almost fright 
 ened Yensie. It was nothing unusual now to be 
 370
 
 YENSEE WALTON. 371 
 
 seized suddenly, on the way up-stairs and landed 
 at her door, or to be called by tender names when 
 ever addressed, for brother George's caresses and 
 kisses were as plenteous as his smiles, and his 
 knee was never unoccupied. 
 
 The one who chanced to be nearest was drawn 
 to this place of honor ; and even Aunt Sarah had 
 been obliged to sit there several minutes, while 
 Mildred and Fred laughed. 
 
 Fred had developed a taste for drawing, seeing 
 which Yensie had done her best to forward him, 
 delighted that he so soon surpassed his teacher, 
 who felt her talent in this direction deficient. She 
 had fine taste however, and proved an admirable 
 critic ; her acquaintance with eminent works of 
 art being not so limited as the rest of the home 
 circle. 
 
 She would watch him with delight, as turning 
 his head this way and that, he added a delicate 
 touch here, a firmer one there, to perfect his work. 
 On one such occasion, Mildred sat down to watch 
 as well. 
 
 " Fred, what are you about?" she questioned. 
 " Do you ever intend to call that picture finished ? 
 I am sure you had as much done two days ago." 
 
 "No, no, Milly," replied the boy. "See, I have 
 been touching up this sunset-cloud. Then, you 
 know, you thought yourself, Mill, that the little 
 girl looked too stiff; she doesn't now, does she? 
 Then that tree bends so much more gracefully."
 
 872 YENSIE WALTOF. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " laughed his sister, " who'd know the 
 difference ? and you have been all this time over 
 such trifles." 
 
 " Why, Milly," said Yensie, " you make me 
 think of something I read about the great Michael 
 Angelo." 
 
 " What was it ? " cried Fred, eagerly. " Oh, 
 tell us, Yensie, tell us ! " 
 
 " Yes, tell away," said Mildred. " It's wonder 
 ful if /have said anything that reminds you of a 
 fusty old sculptor. You'll never come up to him, 
 Fred." 
 
 " One day," bgan Yensie, " a gentleman found 
 the great sculptor busy over what looked to be a 
 figure already completed. Angelo was chipping 
 off tiny bits here and there, which appeared like 
 very unnecessary work to his visitor, and after 
 watching him awhile he departed. Some daj r s 
 after, entering the studio he heard the ' click, 
 click ' of the great master, and to his astonishment 
 found he was still engaged chipping from the 
 same figure. * What,' he said, ' still at work on 
 this figure ; I see no difference. What have you 
 been doing ? ' 
 
 " But Angelo pointed to the mouth. ' Can you 
 not see that lip is firmer,' he inquired, ' this eye 
 more expressive, this muscle more developed ? ' 
 * Yes,' replied his friend, ' but these are only trifles.' 
 'True,' answered the wonderful artist, 'they are
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 373 
 
 but trifles, but it takes trifles to make perfection, 
 and perfection, when it is reached, is no trifle.' ' 
 
 " Good and true," said George, who had ap 
 proached unobserved, and heard the story ; "perfec 
 tion surely is no trifle." 
 
 " Dear me," said Mildred, impatiently, " what 
 possible difference can it make to people like me 
 who don't know how to appreciate perfection when 
 they see it ? I'm sure I shouldn't have noticed the 
 differences in Fred's picture if he hadn't pointed 
 them out." 
 
 " But he would know himself," said her brother, 
 " and would feel dissatisfied with less than the best 
 he could do ; then, too, we are told in the good 
 Book that whatsoever we do, we should do with 
 our might, and I find it is always best to keep to 
 the Book." 
 
 The few words between Mildred and her mother 
 concerning Herbert's visit, kept recurring to Yen- 
 sie's mind, and she felt a growing desire to know 
 when he had been there, and on what errand. 
 
 Fred knew nothing about it ; this she soon ascer 
 tained. She feared to ask her aunt, of whom she 
 still had a wholesome fear ; and at last she decided 
 to appeal to Mildred. 
 
 It was a few days after the talk over Fred's pic 
 ture that she ventured her first question, and Mil 
 dred, who was particularly out of sorts just then, 
 answered her accordingly. 
 
 " How do I know when he came, and why should
 
 374 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 I ask him his errand ? I have enough to remember 
 without keeping date of every little thing. Some 
 time, I suppose, when you were off with your fine 
 city friends. I shouldn't think you'd care, any 
 way ; or is he one of your upper-crust? " 
 
 Mildred was always throwing out something 
 about Yensie's fine friends, and few things she 
 could do or say so aggravated the girl as this did. 
 When Jessie had written declaring her intention 
 of spending Christmas at Valley Farm, Milly had 
 made it the occasion of some very disagreeable re 
 marks ; and now the old temper, which was not 
 dead, began to work up to Yensie's face, and she 
 was about to answer hotly, when a great hand was 
 laid gently on her brown hair, and George's kind 
 voice said : 
 
 " Trifles, little sister, trifles ! Don't forget they 
 make perfection." 
 
 "But I am not perfect, and never shall be," 
 cried the girl, regretfully, raising her flushed face 
 to his. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! When we see Him as he is, we shall 
 be like Him, and before that, Peter says, we may 
 be partakers of the divine nature." 
 
 He sat down as he spoke, and drew a girl to 
 each knee. " Now let me hear all. What did lit 
 tle sister ask of you, Milly, and why didn't you 
 answer her? " 
 
 " Because I'm hateful," answered the girl, frankly. 
 " She asked me about Gardenell. He came here
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 375 
 
 to see her when she was away, and we forgot to 
 tell her." 
 
 " And yet she had a right to know," said the 
 young man, gravely. " Why did you not send her 
 word, if she was away ? " 
 
 " Why, Alice died, and her letters were full of 
 that, and it passed out of my mind until the night 
 you came." 
 
 " And then ? " questioned the young man. 
 
 " Why, then I mentioned it to mother, and 
 Yensie heard me, and has been plaguing me about 
 it." 
 
 " Plaguing you ? Be honest, little sister," hold 
 ing back Mildred's head, and looking into her eyes. 
 
 " No, she only asked me when he was here, and 
 if I knew his errand," owned Milly, laughing. 
 " You see I am not perfection either, George." 
 
 " No," he said, gravely ; " and more, I fear you 
 have not started on the only road that leads 
 there." 
 
 Then turning to Yensie, whose face was a study, 
 with its conflicting emotions of sorrow at her own 
 loss of temper, indignation at Mildred's accusa 
 tion, and pleasure at the result of the investiga 
 tion, he added, playfully : 
 
 " And now little Eve is satisfied, is she, or must 
 we send to the parson to inquire why he came here 
 to see her? What, I haven't hurt you ? " as Yensie 
 put her hand to her hot cheek, striving vainly to 
 restrain her tears. Then putting Mildred down, he
 
 376 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 threw both arms about the slender form, while ho 
 whispered, " When you know brother George bet 
 ter, you will understand he would not say anything 
 to grieve you for all the world." 
 
 The weeks flew by. George seemed in no hurry 
 to depart ; cold weather fully settled in, but Yensie 
 did not forget the application he had made of her 
 little story. 
 
 Every day she tried, in one way or another, to 
 build her temple more perfectly by taking care of 
 the trifles ; and it was wonderful how many little 
 acts of kindness she found to do ; how many small 
 chances to deny self, when she was looking for 
 them. 
 
 This did not escape the sharp eyes of the young 
 man, neither did the difference which Mrs. Walton 
 made in her treatment of the two girls. 
 
 One evening, after a long d&y of almost unre 
 mitting toil, such as George feared was too much 
 for so delicate a child, he found her by the upper- 
 hall window, cooling her feverish brow against the 
 frosty pane. All day he had tried in various ways 
 to help her, and he judged by the harsh voice he 
 had heard but a little while before, finding fault in 
 the kitchen, that she was being blamed unneces 
 sarily. 
 
 He had heard her go into the hall and had fol- 
 fowed her, and he understood why her face looked 
 sad and bitter, as she leaned wearily against the 
 window.
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 377 
 
 He came behind her and drew her to his arms, 
 placing his cool hand on the brow so lately pressed 
 against the glass. 
 
 " My little sister has been making rapid strides 
 towards perfection these few weeks past," he whis 
 pered. "I have seen one little brick after another 
 placed in the wall, and I think the temple looks 
 very fair as far as it has gone. 
 
 She tried to smile, but tears would come, and 
 she hid her face on his breast. 
 
 " I am not the only one that sees this," he went 
 on as if unconscious of her tears. " The Master- 
 builder must be so glad, for bricks, though trifles, 
 make walls. You are not living in vain here, 
 Yensie ; when you are gone the old farm-house 
 will miss you. Mother knows who she can trust 
 with something particular, I see that, and the very 
 fact that she expects so much from you is an 
 acknowledgment of the uncommon power she knows 
 you have somewhere within." 
 
 Yensie looked up, suddenly, " O George, how 
 good you are ; you don't know how you help me." 
 
 "Do I ? Well, I'm glad," he replied, heartily. 
 " That's what we are here for, I take it ; ' Bear ye 
 one another's burdens,' and if you can't do that 
 the next best thing is to help them bear them. 
 But then it's mutual, my little sister has helped 
 her big brother very much." 
 
 - Yensie 's large eyes were looking into his with 
 intense questioning.
 
 378 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 " Don't you remember," continued the young 
 man, " don't you remember the day Fred came in 
 so angry, because some fellow made fun of his 
 lameness ? He wanted to whip him and was sorry 
 he hadn't tried it. I felt just like it myself. You 
 didn't know I heard what you said to him. ' Any 
 fool can knock another down if he's big enough,' 
 you said, ' that's all a question of animal force ; 
 but it takes a man to curb his own spirit enough 
 to walk away and leave a coward without the 
 dressing he deserves. You know the wisest man 
 that ever lived says : ' He that ruleth his spirit, is 
 greater than he that taketh a city.' ' 
 
 "Now I've thought of that ever since Yensie. 
 You and I, little girl, have the same difficulty to 
 manage. We both have quick tempers ; but you 
 have more moral courage than I have. I ran 
 away from this house to be rid of trial, you stay 
 and fight it. Yes, I've thought of your words to 
 Fred often since. I've been a fool, according 
 to your rule, pretty often and thought myself 
 manly, but I must say, I covet power over myself. 
 I always did like to be boss of my own house and 
 farm, how much more of my own mind and dispo 
 sition." 
 
 " George," asked the girl, thoughtfully, " how 
 is it you have grown so fast ? You have only 
 been converted a few months but you seem to 
 understand things better than some old Chris 
 tians."
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 379 
 
 " I don't know why, unless it's because I was 
 converted clear through, " was the reply. " Par 
 son Gardenell had no shoddy about him, and he 
 was powerful particular to see that none of his 
 converts had. I was anxious myself to be first 
 quality, so I had a talk with him about it. He 
 said something like this, I don't suppose I get just 
 his words : ' Shoddy looks a good deal like the 
 real stuff, Rogers, and some people can't tell the 
 difference. It is a good deal harder to detect it in 
 a whole garment, than in a small piece. If you 
 would keep your life free from it, try every little 
 bit ; each act, and thought, and word, by the test 
 of God's word, and you won't have much to 
 regret.' 
 
 "Now I've kind of kept to his directions, and if 
 I'm not just certain whether the Word will uphold 
 me in a thing or not, I wait until I've had time to 
 search, and so I find when I take a step it's not to 
 be gone over with again. There is such a thing 
 you know the Apostle sa} r s as, ' Ever learning and 
 never able to come to the knowledge of the 
 truth.' " 
 
 " You ought to love Herbert very much," said 
 Yensie, softly. 
 
 "I do," was the quick reply. "I never had a 
 brother to know how it would work, but I rather 
 think I couldn't love him if I had, as I do the 
 young parson. Now, suppose you sing for me a 
 little, that's one of the gifts God has denied me.
 
 380 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 I used to love to hear the parson sing, ' Rock of 
 Ages.' It seemed as if when he sang, ' Let me 
 hide myself in Thee,' he meant it, and I couldn't 
 for the life of me see anything but Jesus in him 
 for a whole week after. Let me hear you sing 
 that." 
 
 And Yensie sang it, a calm and peace settling 
 down upon her heart, as she remembered who sang it 
 with her last ; dear Alice Grey, beyond earth's toss 
 ing billows, beyond the need of hiding. 
 
 Jessie came at the Christmas time, as she had 
 promised, though she declared to do so she had 
 been obliged to step on her mother's most cherished 
 plans, and wring the paternal heart with agony. 
 
 The merry girl had not been an hour in the 
 house before she had won every heart, and she soon 
 bore unbounded sway over Mrs. Walton. Her 
 rank in life had quite filled that good lady with 
 awe, and her free, unostentatious ways made good 
 the conquest. So from the day she came until she 
 departed, she had her own sweet will in every 
 thing. 
 
 The two friends shared the same chamber that 
 night, and as they unfastened their braids and pre 
 pared for bed, there was much talk. 
 
 " Who, pray, is this big George ? " asked Jessie, 
 gayly ; " and why haven't I heard of him before.'* 
 
 " He is Uncle John's adopted son. I never saw
 
 YENSIB WALTON. 381 
 
 him myself until Thanksgiving time," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " Seems quite at home with you for all that," 
 said the merry girl. " Oh Yensie, I am astonished ! 
 What has become of poor Gardenell ? " 
 
 Yensie looked up inquiringly. " Mr. Gardenell," 
 she said, "is out West, and only think, Jessie, 
 brother George was converted under his preach 
 ing." 
 
 " Worse and worse," cried Jessie, brushing vig 
 orously at her hair. " I begin to hate the big fel 
 low, to think after Gardenell has been kind enough 
 to settle that little job for him, he should take ad 
 vantage of him at this rate. Or (let me be chari 
 table), perhaps he is only wooing you by proxy for 
 his spiritual father, or does not know the minister 
 has looked this way with longing eyes." 
 
 " Jessie, what a naughty girl you are," said Yen 
 sie, half-laughing, while she blushed. " George is 
 only my brother." 
 
 " Ah ! " was the expressive reply. 
 
 " And I'm sure he never thought of such a thing, 
 or I, either," continued Yjsnsie. 
 
 " Indeed ! what a pair of kids you must be," re 
 torted her companion, mischievously. "Here am 
 I, who never had a lover in my life ; but I know 
 enough to tell when somebody else has ; and if 
 ever girl was loved you are, by this western Lion." 
 
 " Oh, Jessie, Jessie, what makes you talk so,"
 
 382 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 cried Yensie, deprecatingly. " What makes you 
 think so?" 
 
 " My eyes," was the unhesitating reply. 
 
 " But I know you're mistaken," said Yensie, des 
 perately. " I never should look at him again, if I 
 thought so; I'm sure I shall not take another 
 moment's comfort while he is here." 
 
 " Oh, bless your little heart, don't worry about 
 him," interrupted Jessie. " If you don't want 
 him, wh}-,.say so. I'll take him off your hands for 
 a few weeks, at any rate. You play rather cool, 
 and I'll be very gracious. I am your particular 
 friend ; that is favorable." 
 
 Yensie looked in her friend's face a moment, then 
 flung her arms about her neck, laughing. 
 
 " You are a very naughty child, Jessie, I see 
 that," she said, " and instead of asking me right 
 out if I had any objections to your seizing my big 
 brother, you have taken this means of finding out. 
 I'll forgive you, and you can have him ; but, mark 
 you, I like the straight-forward course far better." 
 
 " And this is the reward of friendly solicitude," 
 responded Miss Crafton, assuming an injured air. 
 " Here have I, from the purest motives, been try 
 ing to open your eyes to impending disaster, and 
 thus you requite me. Ah, friend of my heart, I 
 can illy bear this at your hand ; but think not I re 
 gret my words of warning, never. Suppose I had 
 not spoken ; suppose this thing had gone on ; sup 
 pose these two youths had come to deadly collision ;
 
 iTENSIE WALTON. 883 
 
 I should feel the blood of the fallen one forever 
 weighing upon my guilt} 7 " head. Well, I have 
 cleared my skirts at least." 
 
 Yensie greeted this harangue with a merry peal 
 of laughter that resounded through the house, and 
 Jessie joined her heartily. 
 
 " Honor bright, Yensie," she said, as soon as she 
 caught breath again ; " honor bright, I do believe 
 George is in love with you ; he may not know it, 
 but he looks it. There, don't look so dubious, my 
 darling. I hope his heart is not broken yet ; if so, 
 there's nothing like setting it properly. You re 
 member poor Phebe Babcock. She broke her arm 
 at school the year before you came, and not know 
 ing, let it knit. It had to be broken again and re 
 set. There is nothing better than taking disease 
 in time. My father says so, and he is a first-class 
 physician." 
 
 Splendid sleighing and a full moon made Christ 
 mas night just the occasion for a sleighing party, 
 and Mr. Walton's two large sleighs were filled 
 with rollicking girls and boys. Singing and laugh 
 ter mingled with the music of the bells, and it was 
 late before the last passenger was dropped from the 
 sleigh. Mr. Walton drove, and he and his niece 
 were left alone. 
 
 The sleighs had separated to carry their respec 
 tive passengers home, and as Yensie was the only 
 one from Valley Farm in Mr. Walton's sleigh, it 
 was just the chance he coveted for a long talk. A 
 long talk indeed it proved, of other days and loves.
 
 384 YENSEE WALTON. 
 
 The maiden was astonished at the revelations 
 made that night. Her uncle had known, and loved, 
 and been rejected by her mother, before his brother 
 wooed and won her. 
 
 All this he told her with an old man's fondness 
 in lingering over the past, and ended by placing in 
 her hand an old-fashioned locket, richly carved, and 
 ornamented with pearls. 
 
 " Your father bade me give you this, when you 
 had reached womanhood," he said. " It contains 
 your mother's and grandmother's picture. When 
 you have looked upon your mother's face perhaps 
 you will realize one reason why you have been so 
 dear to me." 
 
 Eagerly the young girl touched the spring and 
 her uncle stopped the horses, and by the light of 
 the moon she examined her mother's face. 
 
 George and the girls had arrived sometime 
 before Yensie, and she hurried directly to her 
 room, impatient to show her treasure to Jessie. It 
 was very late and that young lady was in bed 
 apparently sleeping. But Yensie had no thought 
 of sleep, and seating herself in a low rocker she 
 fell to dreaming. 
 
 Presently Miss Craftpn opened her eyes. She 
 watched for a long while, the thoughtful face, 
 then asked suddenly : 
 
 " Yensie, what are you thinking about ? " 
 
 The young girl started a little. She had not
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 385 
 
 thought of watchful eyes, but she answered her 
 immediately. 
 
 " I was wondering if two men loved one girl, 
 and one of these men was gifted and cultured, and 
 had much in himself which would preserve him 
 from wasting his .life, even if he lost her love, 
 whether she ought not rather to marry the other ; 
 even if she did not love him so well, if he had not 
 these qualities in himself which would keep him 
 from absolute despair and worthlessness ? " 
 
 " In other words," said her friend, " a woman 
 should throw herself away upon the weakest man 
 she can find, who fancies he loves her, from a 
 quixotic fancy of saving, and making something of 
 him ; rather than help build a good man higher by 
 giving him what she can, her heart. It's bosh, all 
 bosh. I'm astonished at you. This is sentimen- 
 talism in the extreme. How much good can any 
 of us do in an undertaking to which we bring no 
 heart ? Preserve me from such folly. If I fall in 
 love with a wise man, be he Solomon the second, 
 I'll marry him, provided he'll allow me to ; if I 
 love a fool I'll marry him, if I can get him. 
 That's my mind." 
 
 " Nonsense Jess, I wouldn't." 
 
 " Wouldn't what, pray, fall in love with a fool ? 
 Well I didn't promise to, did I ? I said if. And 
 certainly if I was fool enough to love a fool, the 
 next step in foolishness would be to let him know 
 it, and the climax of foil} 7 , to marry him. I never
 
 386 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 like half-and-half. If I ever am a fool I will be 
 a prince of fools. I see small difference between 
 you and me in this. I'm sure I'd as lief marry a 
 fool as any other man I didn't love, but to marry 
 an unloved half-fool when you might have a well- 
 loved wise man that's beyond the reach of oppro 
 brium bless me, I'd rather marry an out-and-out 
 idiot, and thus prove myself one, or remain single 
 for life ; which two things are very like, to my con 
 ception." 
 
 " Why, Jessie Crafton ! Do you then consider 
 it so terrible a thing to live unmarried ? " 
 
 " Certainly I do." 
 
 " I am very happy as I am," laughed Yensie. 
 
 " Yes, but you won't always be what you are 
 now, my chick, that's the trouble. Your cheeks 
 won't always be round, or your eyes bright ; there 
 won't always be a dozen fellows sighing for the 
 favor of picking up j - our handkerchief. Then 
 when you get so easily tired over trifles, and the 
 wind strikes chills through you in July, 'twill be 
 very, pleasant to have a tried and true, whose eyes 
 retain an image of your former self, to get your 
 shawl and hand you a cup of warm drink, and tie 
 your night-cap strings." 
 
 And Miss Jessie drew about her fair shoulders a 
 breakfast shawl lying near, lifted a goblet from the 
 table at her elbow, with a trembling hand, turned 
 down her lips to hide her teeth, as she lifted her 
 head for the imaginary hands to tie the imaginary
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 387 
 
 cap-strings, and croaked feebly in a thin voice, 
 " Thank you, dear Herbert." 
 
 Yensie laughed until the tears ran down her 
 cheeks. "Jessie, what a pity you haven't a larger 
 audience ; you could scarcely have a more appreci 
 ative one, but I assure you, such talents should 
 bless the world." 
 
 " Ah, but we were not talking about blessing 
 the world, but about blessing a fool by marrying 
 him," quoth Jessie. 
 
 "No, we were not," replied Yensie, a little 
 warmly, and with strong emphasis upon the per 
 sonal pronoun. " You were, but neither of the 
 men to whom I alluded were fools, and I was only 
 wondering, not concluding." 
 
 " I know, my dear, but, ' Our secret thoughts 
 work themselves out into acts.' That's what Par 
 son Longface said once and I give him credit for 
 it. I think it is the most sensible thing he ever 
 said in his life, and I don't want my own familiar 
 to act so unwisely. Besides there's no need, none 
 in the least. If Herbert's first in your heart take 
 him ; George will not throw away his life, I'll war 
 rant." 
 
 " Oh, you wicked Puss," cried Yensie, rushing 
 to the bed and tumbling Miss Crafton most uncer 
 emoniously, " I will teach you to draw conclusions 
 in this style. The gentlemen you named were 
 never further from my thoughts. I was musing
 
 388 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 over a story I heard to-night of two brothers, one 
 now in heaven, the other an old man." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Jessie, struggling to 
 free herself from her friend's grasp. " Let me 
 sleep, now, and I promise to get on my knees to 
 you in the morning, if you will remind me." 
 
 " No need," replied her friend. " I forgive you, 
 seeing you have asked pardon ' right proper,' as 
 Aunt Sarah says. But see, I have received such a 
 gift to-night ! You must not sleep until you have 
 gazed at my mother's face." 
 
 Jessie's eyes were as wide open as if a thought 
 of sleep had never visited her brain, ere Yensie 
 had concluded the story with which she received 
 the locket. 
 
 " How like you must be to your mother, Yensie. 
 I should think it your picture, if it was not for the 
 difference in the way the hair is worn, and the old- 
 fashioned dress. This is an elegant old locket," 
 examining it curiously. " As I live, here is another 
 spring, and two locks of hair." 
 
 Another moment and Jessie was out of bed, and 
 two young faces bent above the locks of hair ; one 
 very dark and curling, the other a light brown. 
 
 The cock was crowing in the barn-yard before 
 the excited young girls had ceased their surmis- 
 ings, and stilled themselves to sleep, and then Yen 
 sie dreamed of her mother. 
 
 The time of Jessie's stay passed away all too
 
 YENSIE WALTON. 389 
 
 rapidly, and one day George and Yensie left her 
 in the train steaming out of the depot, and re 
 turned rather sadly to the farm-house. Everybody 
 missed her merry laugh and gay little speeches, 
 and when George began to talk of starting home 
 to prepare for spring planting, Yensie wished 
 heartily she might go somewhere too, for she 
 dreaded the settling back into the old ruts, the 
 worn paths of duty which every foot was expected 
 to tread daily. It came, too, after awhile, her call 
 to go ; but not before she had tried the old life 
 again, and missed George's ready, helpful hand. 
 
 " Aunt Jule wants you," wrote Jessie, " and I'm 
 so glad, if only you'll be a good child and go to 
 her. I have left Madame couldn't stand it 
 another week ; and, O be joyful ! I expect to 
 spend next summer at Newport. Do please accept 
 Aunt Jule's offer, and I shall have you there as 
 well." 
 
 Which meant just this ; that Mrs. Germaine 
 was anxious to secure Yensie as governess for her 
 children, and Miss Crafton was in a fever of ex 
 citement until sure she would accept. 
 
 The salary was liberal, Yensie anxious to depart. 
 So, although Mr. Walton raised many objections, 
 they were speedily overruled, as his wife warmly 
 seconded this desire of her niece to be indepen 
 dent. 
 
 She must have a good outfit, her uncle said, 
 which was the signal for a grand sew, Miss Mil-
 
 390 YENSIE WALTON. 
 
 dred declaring if she got as much when she was 
 married, she would be satisfied. To this her 
 mother answered, that if she didn't marry more 
 sensibly than things looked lately, she'd get noth 
 ing, and her daughter, retorting saucily, went out 
 of the room slamming the door. 
 
 Yensie sighed. These scenes between her aunt 
 and Mildred were frequent of late, and the young 
 girl increasingly disrespectful. She entertained 
 fears, too, that her cousin held clandestine meet 
 ings with somebody, for she saw her quite often 
 slipping out of the front door after dark, when 
 least likely to be missed. 
 
 One night Yensie expostulated with her, but in 
 vain. Mildred only taunted her with her religion, 
 and begged her to run and report like a good girl. 
 
 Poor Yensie, she hardly knew what to do. She 
 longed to have her cousin detected for her own 
 sake, and yet feared to speak her surmisings, know 
 ing that thereby she would but bring her aunt's 
 displeasure on her own guiltless head. Perhaps if 
 she was not there to fill the evenings with song 
 and reading, their eyes would be opened. This 
 hope strengthened her purpose to depart. 
 
 The sewing was soon done, Yensie ready to go. 
 "The morning of her departure, Fred surprised her 
 by appearing at the late breakfast table with quite 
 a little bunch of the sweet-scented trailing arbutus. 
 
 As she stepped aboard of the cars, her uncle 
 passed her a package.
 
 TENSIE WALTON. 391 
 
 " It's the makings of a silk dress," he said. 
 " Sally don't know anything about it, but I knew 
 you'd need one. I wrapped up a bill in it for the 
 fixins, and you may need a new cloak. God bless 
 you ; if ever you get short, let me know. I go 
 after the letters rnostty, and nobody'll know if you 
 don't wish 'em to. There, there, it seems as if I 
 was losing you. God bless you, God bless you. 
 Yes, God bless us all" winking very fast as he 
 strove to clear his voice. " You've been a good 
 girl, and this is always your home, remember." 
 
 For answer, Yensie threw her arms about his 
 neck, and kissed his furrowed cheek. She was 
 actually launching out into the world for herself. 
 She thought, with no small emotion, would she 
 ever see that dear old face- and Valley Farm 
 again ? 
 
 But here we must leave our little country girl, 
 used to the simple farm life, about to enter the gay 
 city, and one of its most fashionable homes. We 
 know she will carry Christ with her, and with this 
 we must be content at present, hoping some day, 
 not far hence, God willing, to follow her farther. 
 Until then, dear readers, in the words of Uncle 
 John, "God Bless Us All." 
 
 THE END.
 
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 Post. 
 
 Many readers will remember " Ruby Hamilton," a volume 
 which created quite a sensation at the time of its publication. 
 . This volume, a continuation of this story, ought to 
 become as popular as its predecessor. Christian Mirror. 
 
 Contains some charming pictures of home-life. . . . 
 Cannot but help and strengthen the boy whose impulses 
 are for good. Herald and Presbyter. 
 
 Like all that comes from this author's pen, this volume 
 has merits of both substance and style. Western Christian 
 Advocate. 
 
 Adds another to the list of really goo- 3 story books. 
 Cincinnati Journal and Messenger. 
 
 SEBA'S DISCIPLINE. 
 
 A good book to teach the uses of trouble in building up char 
 acter. Western Recorder. 
 
 Has a varied and absorbing interest from its beginning to its 
 close. . . . Sometimes sad and wonderfully pathetic ; some 
 times bright and cheerful, it is impressive always. In every 
 respect it is the best religious story we have seen for many a 
 day, and one . . . that can scarcely fail to benefit any 
 reader whom God leads along rough paths. The Interior. 
 
 Should be in every Sunday-school library. The Standard. 
 
 D. LOTHROP & CO., Publishers, Boston.
 
 SOME SPECIAL LOOKS 
 
 FOR NEIGHBORHOOD CLUBS. 
 
 To meet the growing demand for books for young people which shall 
 be as entertaining as stories, and at the same time educational in influ 
 ence, we suggest the following : 
 
 I. The Reading 1 Union Library, a series prepared for the 
 Cliautauqua Young Folks' Reading Union, $1.00 a volume, fully illus 
 trated ; four volumes now ready, others in preparation : (a) Magna 
 Ckarta Stories, thrilling tales of the world's great struggles for liberty, 
 edited by Arthur Oilman ; (b) Old Ocean, the romance and wonders of 
 the sea, by Ernest Ingersoll ; (c) Dooryard folks, fascinating natural 
 history, by Miss A. B. Harris, and including the author's curious experi 
 ments with "A Winter Garden"; (d) The Great Composers, a con 
 densed, comprehensive story of music and musicians, by H. Butterworth. 
 
 II. Our Business Boys. The ways to success in business life, 
 the rocks of danger, as described by eighty-three business men, in re 
 sponse to inquiries by the author, Rev. F. ,. Clark, Price, 60 cents. 
 
 III. For reading after or in connection with, the above, there are 
 three volumes about those who have worked and won : (a) Men of Mark, 
 (b) Noble Workers, (c) Stories of Success ; to which may well be added 
 (d) A Noble Life ; or, Hints for Living, by Rev. O. A. Kingsbury; 
 each volume, $1.25. 
 
 IV. Charlotte M. Yonge's Young Folks' Histories, $1.50 a 
 volume : 
 
 Your.g Folks' Hjstory of Germany. Young Folks' History of England. 
 Young Folks' History of Greece. Young Folks' History of France, 
 Young Folks' History of Rome. Young Folks' Bible History. 
 
 V. Lothrop's Library of Entertaining History. Edi 
 ted by Arthur Gilman, M. A. Each volume has one hundred illustra 
 tions. These histories are designed to furnish in a succinct but interesting 
 form, such descriptions of the lands treated as shall meet the wants of 
 those busy readers who cannot devote themselves to the study of detailed 
 and elaborate works, but who wish to be well-informed in historical 
 matters. $1.50 per volume. 
 
 A merica, by Arthur Gilman, M. A. ; India, by Fannie Roper Feudge ; 
 Egypt, by Mrs. Clara Erskme Clement ; Spain, by Prof. James Albert 
 Harrison ; Switzerland, by Miss Harriet D. S. Mackenzie. 
 
 VI. Popular Biographies, of great and good men, whose ef 
 forts and accomplishments cannot fail of helpful suggestions to young 
 people. Each volume illustrated. Price $1.50. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln. Daniel Webster. Benjamin Franklin. 
 
 Horace Greeley. Charles Sumner. Amos Lawrence. 
 
 Henry Wilson. James A. Garfield. Israel Putnam, 
 
 Bayard Taylor. George Peabody. John G. Whittier. 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow. Charles Dickens. David Livingstone. 
 
 Washington. William the Silent. Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 The above books sent, post-paid on receipt of price. Send for full 
 catalogue of more than a thousand volumes, including many volumes of 
 story, ^biography, travel and adventure equally desirable with the above 
 for neighborhood clubs and reading circles. 
 
 D. LiOTHEOP & CO., Publishers, Boston.
 
 NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Tin: LORD'S PURSEBEARERS. By Hesba Stretton. 
 Bnsii-n. D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.25. The name of 
 He.-ba iStretton is too well known in English literature 
 to render it necessary to make special commendation of 
 any work from her pen. No writer of religious fiction 
 elands higher in England, and there is not a Sunday-school 
 library where some one of her volumes may not be found. 
 She has the faculty of entertaining and instructing at the 
 same time. The present publishers have made special 
 arrangements with her for the production in this country 
 of her latest work, and the probabilities are that all her 
 future books will bear their imprint. In The -LortT.s 
 Purxrbcarers the author draws a terrible picture of life 
 among the vicious poor in London streets, and shows 
 by what shifts the professional beggars and thieves of 
 the great Babylon manage to live and thrive on the mis 
 placed charity of the pitying well-to-do population. She 
 arouses a strong feeling of sympathy for the children who 
 are bred in the haunts of vice, and who are instructed 
 in crime before they are old eliough to know the meaning 
 of the word. The story is one of intense interest, and 
 the characters, especially those of old Isaac Chippendell, 
 his granddaughter Joan, and little Lucky, are forcibly 
 drawn. One can hardly believe that such places exist 
 or that such deeds are perpetrated as are here described, 
 but one who is familiar with London and its streets knows 
 that they are no exaggerations. The volume is illustrated. 
 
 THE AFTERGLOW OF EUROPEAN TRAVEL. By Adelaide 
 L. Harrington. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.50. 
 This pleasant record of experiences abroad will delight those 
 who have gone over the same ground, as well as those who 
 have never strayed beyond the bounds of their own country. 
 It is not a connected story of travel, but consists of reminis 
 cences and descriptions of various spots and objects which 
 made the deepest and most lasting impression upon the 
 writer.
 
 NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 A FORTUNATE FAILURE. By Caroline B. LeRow. Bos- 
 con: D. Lotlirop & Co. Price $1.25. The author of this 
 charming book is widely known as a successful writer of 
 magazine stories, and any thing from her pen is sure of a 
 multitude of readers. Her style is clear and flowing, and 
 she is peculiarly happy in the invention of incidents. Iu 
 the present volume her powers are shown at their best. The 
 principal character of the story is Emily Sheridan, the 
 bright, ambitious daughter of a New Hampshire farmer, 
 whose pride and comfort she is. Taken from her quiet sur 
 roundings by a rich aunt and placed at a distant boarding- 
 school, she meets new friends, and new paths are opened to 
 her in life. It is the author's plan to trace her development 
 under the changed and varying influences which surround 
 her, and to show how she is affected in heart and mind by 
 them. Nothing can change the Jiatu.al sweetness of her 
 character, however, her experiences serving only to ripen 
 and bring out the finer and higher qualities of her nature. 
 In one of her companions, Laura Fletcher, the author draws 
 the type of a certain class of girls to be found everywhere 
 bright, warm-hearted, full of life, and tinctured with tomboy- 
 ism and a love of slang. Maxwell King is another well-de 
 lineated character bearing an important part in the story. 
 We do not propose to sketch the plot in detail; that would 
 spoil it for most readers, and we do not wisli to deprive 
 them of the pleasure they will find in reading the story for 
 themselves. 
 
 MARY BURTON ABROAD. By Pansy. 111. Boston: D. 
 Lotlirop & Co. Price 75 cents. This pleasant book is made 
 up of a series of letters supposed to have been written from 
 gome of the great cities of Europe, principally Edinburgh 
 and London. They contain information about objects of 
 interest in these places, descriptive and historical, and are 
 Britten in that gossipy, unconventional style which is pleas 
 ing to children.
 
 NEW PUBLICATIONS. _ 
 
 NEXT THINGS. By Pansy. A Story for Little Fo'ks. 
 Fully illustrated. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.00. 
 This is a bright little story with two heroes, and the lessou 
 it tries to teach young readers is to do the work that 
 lies nearest to them first; in other words, "What to do 
 'next. No one can do the second thing; he caii do the first." 
 Bound up in the same cover is a capital story called 
 ."Dorrie's Day," in which are related the adventures of a 
 little girl who went to sleep in the cars and got carried out 
 of her way. The history of what she did, and how she got 
 home, will interest the children. 
 
 MRS. HARRY HARPER'S AWAKENING. A Missionary 
 story by Pansy. Boston: D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.00. 
 This is one of Pansy's " lesson books," in which, under the 
 guise of a story, she drives home a truth so thoroughly that 
 the dullest and most unimpressible reader cannot help seeing 
 and feeling it. Mrs. Harry Harper was a young wife in a 
 strange city, without acquaintances, and with nothing to do 
 during the long hours of the day while her husband was ab 
 sent at his business. One day in walking aimlessly along 
 the street she follows a crowd of ladies into what she sup 
 poses is a bazar, but what she soon discovers to be a mis 
 sionary meeting. Her attention is excited by what she sees 
 and hears ; her sympathies and religious feelings are 
 awakened, and she enters into practical Christian work with 
 all her heart and soul. The book is one of serious purpose 
 and falling into the hands of people like Mrs. Harper will be 
 a means of undoubted good. 
 
 PIZARRO; or, The Discovery and Conquest of Peru. Il 
 lustrated. Edited by Fred H. Allen. Boston: D. Lothrop 
 & Co. Price $1.00. This is the third volume in Mr. Allen's 
 valuable little series, and is a concise and interesting history 
 of a country which at this very moment is undergoing a 
 conquest as bloody and exhaustive as that which occurred 
 350 years ago, when the Spanish ancestors of the present 
 race of Peruvians carried fire and slaughter into the homes 
 of the native inhabitants. The story is told with spirit, 
 and with enough detail to enable the reader to get a clear 
 and connected idea of the different campaigns of Pizarro in 
 South America from the time of his landing on its shores in 
 1509 until his assassination by his own countrymen in hie 
 bouse in Lima in 1541.
 
 NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 OUT AND ABOUT. By Kate Tannatt Woods. Illustrated. 
 Boston : D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.50. Every boy and 
 girl in the country used to delight in the Bodley books, 
 and here is a volume which is in all respects their worthy 
 successor. It is based upon something like the same plan, 
 in that it takes a whole family, instead of a single member 
 of it, about the country sight-seeing. We might rather say 
 two whole families, for that is just what the author does. 
 The Hudsonsand the Marstons are neighbors in the vicinity 
 of Boston, and the children are great friends. They all go 
 to Cape Cod and Nantucket to spend the summer, and from 
 there the Hudsons are called away to San Francisco by Col. 
 Hudson, who is an army officer, and is stationed there. 
 The book describes their stay on the Cape, and their long 
 overland journey to the Pacific coast. Its interest is not 
 wholly confined to the members of the party, for the author 
 takes special pains to give correct and vivid pictures of the 
 various places visited. The illustrations are some of the 
 best ever put into a children's book, and are many from 
 drawings and photographs made on the spot. 
 
 CHRONICLES OF THE STIMPCETT FAMILY. By Abby 
 Morton Diaz. Boston : D. Lothrop & Co. Price $1.25. 
 Some one once said, " Give a Frenchman an onion and a 
 beef-bone, and he will make a dozen different kinds of 
 delicious soup." Give Mrs. Diaz two or three simple inci 
 dents, and she will manufacture half a dozen stories so 
 sprightly and jolly, and so full of every day human nature 
 withal, that to the young they are a source of perennial 
 delight, while the old people can get as much enjoyment out 
 of them as from a volume of Scott or Dickens. This new 
 book, which has never seen the light in any newspaper or 
 magazine, will be ready in ample time, for the holidays, and 
 the father who wants to make his little ones perfectly happy 
 at that time will take good care to secure a copy. The 
 Stimpcetts have a " Family Story Teller," and the wonder 
 ful, queer, strange and funny stories which this individual 
 has treasured up in his memory, and retails to the children 
 on various occasions, will be laughed over, and talked over, 
 and thought orer, until the author is ready with anoi.her 
 volume,
 
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