ERJfo. ^clOS-ANCH% ^ 3 fe, A^'UBRA ?? *? 1 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 . '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