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 MASTGR
 
 
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 MASTER BARTLEMY 
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART
 
 1 HE SAT DOWN ON ONE OF THE BENCHES UNDER THE LATTICES, AND 
 MISS NANCY SAT BESIDE HIM." Page 122.
 
 MASTER BARTLEMY 
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES E. CROMPTON 
 
 Author of "Friday's Child" 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 E. P. BUTTON AND COMPANY 
 
 31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 
 I 802
 
 Copyright, 1892 
 
 BY E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 
 
 dl anil 
 BOSTON
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " HE SAT DOWN ON ONE OF THE BENCHES 
 UNDER THE LATTICES, AND MlSS NANCY 
 SAT BESIDE HIM " Frontispiece 
 
 " SHE SAT UPRIGHT WITH ONE TOE ON 
 
 THE FLOOR" 19 
 
 "HE WAS SPEAKING ALOUD" 4 1 
 
 "ARRAYED IN A SINGULAR COLLECTION OF 
 
 GARMENTS" 91 
 
 "THERE WERE WORDS CUT IN THE STONE" 113
 
 ^- 
 
 MASTER BARTLEMY; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 I. 
 
 TT was Miss Nancy's birthday. She was 
 ten years old, and she had had a visit- 
 or of her own. And at Miss Nancy's age, 
 to have a birthday is greatness ; but to
 
 I0 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 have a particular and personal visitor, real 
 and grown up (not to say elderly), this is 
 preferable to calling the king one's uncle. 
 She had had birthday presents, but this 
 may happen to any one, and had occurred 
 before to Miss Nancy herself. 
 
 There was the Shetland pony from the 
 squire, though to be sure this had been 
 promised so long that it did not seem to 
 have much real connection with the birth- 
 day, especially as you could not have it 
 with you in the house ; and there was the 
 prayer-book from Aunt Norreys, with a 
 red back and a silver clasp. Miss Nancy 
 gratefully acknowledged that everybody 
 had been very kind to her, from Mrs. 
 Plummett, who had made the birthday 
 cake with her own hands, down to poor 
 Bettie the under housemaid, who had 
 presented a humble offering in the shape 
 of a purple silk pincushion, stuffed with
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. \\ 
 
 bran to an inconceivable extent of tight- 
 ness, and bearing in pin-heads the strag- 
 gling device, " My Lov," which trifling 
 error Miss Nancy, a delicate little person, 
 both by nature and upbringing, would 
 have blushed to observe, and the legend 
 remained as unaltered as poor Betty's lov 
 itself. 
 
 Even Trimmer, the stern, had given 
 Miss Nancy a white and gold china 
 poodle ; and although the white and 
 gold poodle may be an uncommon 
 animal in real life, he looked charming 
 in china, sitting tastefully on a ground 
 of blue, which is well known to be the 
 color of true affection. Miss Nancy 
 had, with the friendly aid of a chair, set 
 him up on the tall chimney-piece, from 
 which elevation he stared fixedly and 
 unmeaningly down upon her; and look- 
 ing up at him in return, and thinking
 
 12 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 with remorse of all the pinafores she 
 had torn, and all the shoes she had 
 dirtied, and all the extra washings and 
 brushings she had inconveniently re- 
 quired at irregular hours, Miss Nancy 
 felt Trimmer's high-minded forgiveness 
 to be more moving than language would 
 fittingly express. 
 
 Arminel Anne Throgmorton was her 
 name, her Sunday name, as she was 
 accustomed to think, having but rarely 
 any other use for it than in the catechism 
 of Sunday afternoon. Nancy was the 
 name of dear daddy's giving and the 
 name of every day, and Miss Throgmorton 
 was commonly only Miss Nancy. She 
 had, perhaps, at times wished that she had 
 been endowed with a more ornamental 
 and fashionable name ; but as one grand- 
 mother had been Anne Norreys, and the 
 other had been Arminel Throgmorton,
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 13 
 
 Miss Nancy quite saw that it could not 
 have been avoided. 
 
 She had had a holiday in honor of her 
 birthday, and Trimmer had even gone to 
 the length of saying that she was going 
 down to the village for an hour, and Miss 
 Nancy might get out all her toys and 
 take up the whole of the table if she liked. 
 Not that Miss Nancy, though an only 
 child, had any unmanageable number of 
 toys ; for she did not live in this present 
 degenerate day of profusion in children's 
 amusements, and the playthings grown 
 old in the service of two or three genera- 
 tions were considered an ample provision 
 for any one. The very best doll in all the 
 collection was only a venerable and dang- 
 ling lady, with a pink kid body, and a 
 painted face, as ugly as might well be. 
 Miss Nancy certainly valued her toys as 
 toys used to be valued ; but they did not
 
 14 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 lie very near her heart. A game with 
 them generally took the rather forlorn 
 form of laying them out in a solemn row, 
 sitting by them till tea-time, and then 
 silently replacing them in the cupboard. 
 And even the pink kid lady, in her best 
 yellow satin slip and real morocco shoes, 
 had failed to satisfy Miss Nancy's soul 
 to-day. 
 
 She knelt on the floor by the window- 
 seat, so that she could rest her arms on 
 the seat, and her chin on her hands, and 
 look out at the prospect, which from this 
 point of view did not embrace more than 
 the upper branches of the great elm-trees, 
 with the rooks swinging in their nodding 
 tops in a high spring wind, for Miss 
 Nancy's birthday fell early in the year. It 
 was not an extensive prospect without, 
 but it was more interesting to her than the 
 one within, the panelled walls and floor
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 15 
 
 painted brown, the tiled fireplace and 
 brass irons, the spindle-legged table 
 with round leaves, the wooden-seated 
 chairs, the cupboard where Miss Nancy's 
 small possessions were kept, the dignified 
 and indifferent gray cat on the hearth, 
 and the tall, polished clock with the brass 
 face, and brass balls at the corners, and 
 the fingers that moved round in jerks, and 
 works that groaned and wheezed for very 
 age. 
 
 But now Miss Nancy had a visitor. To 
 begin with, there was a knock at the door, 
 and a man's footstep. 
 
 " You can come in, Bailey. It is only 
 me," said Miss Nancy, well meaningly, 
 however ungrammatically. The door 
 opened, but Bailey seemed to stand still 
 in a very unnatural manner, and Miss 
 Nancy looked over her shoulder, to see no 
 Bailey, but a living gentleman, rather an
 
 1 6 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 old gentleman, and quite a strange one. 
 Miss Nancy scrambled to her feet with 
 what would have been alarm if the old 
 gentleman's appearance had not disarmed 
 suspicion. He was smiling very cheer- 
 fully, and holding out his hand to her. 
 
 " I am quite well, thank you," said Miss 
 Nancy at random, being for the moment 
 thrown into some confusion. 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear it," said the old 
 gentleman. " You do not know me, do 
 you ? But I am the new rector." 
 
 " Trimmer is out," said Miss Nancy, 
 doubtfully. "She has gone to the vil- 
 lage. And Aunt Norreys has gone to St. 
 Edmund's. And I do not know where 
 daddy is." 
 
 " I have been walking with him," said 
 the rector, " and now I have come to see 
 you." 
 
 "Me?"
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 17 
 
 " Yes, I have come to see you," re- 
 peated the rector, with a gravity that 
 Miss Nancy could not but consider flatter- 
 ing to a degree. 
 
 "Because of my birthday?" she said, 
 feeling that at ten one begins to grow up. 
 
 " You see," said the rector, waiving 
 the point, " I knew the squire many years 
 ago, and now I should like to know his 
 little daughter too." 
 
 Miss Nancy politely assented. She 
 scarcely knew exactly what you ought to 
 do when you have a visitor of your own, 
 but, guided by a general strong sense of 
 manners, she dragged one of the hardest 
 and slimmest of chairs by its forelegs from 
 the wall, and invited the rector to sit down, 
 which he did, bowing his thanks, and 
 drawing one out for her, by the back, 
 as more convenient to him than the low 
 level of the legs. Miss Nancy infinitely
 
 1 8 MASTER BARTLEMY. 
 
 preferred kneeling on the floor, with her 
 arms on the seat; but this was, of course, 
 not to be. contemplated on such an occa- 
 sion as the present, which demanded all 
 the deportment of which a person was 
 capable ; and having smoothed down her 
 pinafore, she sat upright with one toe on 
 the floor, and the other dangling at some 
 distance from it, waiting, in obedience to 
 an ancient maxim which bade her speak 
 when she was spoken to. She liked look- 
 ing at the rector. He was what she 
 called an old gentleman, for on the 
 shadowy side of sixty one can no longer 
 hope to be called anything but elderly ; 
 his hair was quite white, and he scorned 
 to disguise that it had grown thin at the 
 top years ago. He wore it longer than 
 would now be strictly fashionable ; it 
 hung on each side of his face in fleecy 
 locks, like the apostles in the painted
 
 
 'SHE SAT UPRIGHT WITH ONE TOE ON THE FLOOR.''
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 21 
 
 windows in church, thought Miss Nancy. 
 The rector's coat was in perfect harmony 
 with his person, being old also, and 
 far too long and ample in the skirt to 
 have any pretensions to the mode. Miss 
 Nancy liked him, nevertheless. He 
 smiled at her, and he had a very pleas- 
 ant smile. 
 
 "And what is your name, my little 
 maid? " he asked. 
 
 " Arminel Anne Throgmorton," said 
 Miss Nancy. " But daddy says Nancy." 
 
 " I thought it might have been some- 
 thing else," said the rector. "I thought it 
 might have been Margaret." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Miss Nancy, earnestly. 
 " Daddy would not like that. Once I 
 said I liked Margaret better than Nancy, 
 and he said ' Yes, but there was only one 
 Margaret.' " For that had been the name 
 of Miss Nancy's mother, and she was dead.
 
 22 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 " Ah ! " said the rector. " Ah, to be 
 sure." 
 
 " But I like Nancy better than Arminel. 
 Because when Aunt Norreys says Armi- 
 nel, generally I have been naughty," ad- 
 mitted Miss Nancy, with regret. " I do 
 not like Throgmorton very much. You 
 cannot think what a hard word it is to 
 write. I used to think it was a very hard 
 word to spell. I suppose you know how 
 to spell it?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the rector. " I used to 
 write it long years ago, when I knew your 
 father." 
 
 "And did you know him rather well?" 
 
 " I knew him very well only, you see, 
 we have not met for many, many years. 
 And now he has asked me to come and 
 live here." 
 
 " And shall you live here always? " 
 
 " I trust I shall, my little maid. I trust
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 23 
 
 that you and I may be friends as long as 
 we live. How old are you to-day? " 
 
 " I am ten," replied Miss Nancy, with a 
 ladylike endeavor not to show pride on 
 that account. 
 
 " And I am more than six times ten. 
 Do you think I shall be too old for you?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! For if you are not too old 
 for me, and I am not too little for you, we 
 shall meet in the middle," said Miss 
 Nancy, with much politeness, if with some 
 obscurity. " There is not any one of 
 great friends but daddy, and Aunt Nor- 
 reys, and Trimmer, and a few of smaller 
 ones." 
 
 " Then let us shake hands upon it," 
 said the rector. Which Miss Nancy and 
 he proceeded to do with mutual satisfac- 
 tion, and the visit went on in the greatest 
 harmony. Indeed, Miss Nancy was by 
 this time beginning to entertain distinct
 
 2 4 
 
 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 hopes of the rector remaining to take tea 
 with her, when she would be enabled to 
 serve him with slices innumerable from 
 Mrs. Plummett's birthday cake, and 
 many, many cups of tea in Miss Nancy's 
 eyes the patent of honorable years ; and 
 this she thought would be a birthday feast 
 indeed. 
 
 But, unfortunately, just at the moment 
 when in fancy she was liberally assisting 
 the delighted rector to cake, for the fifth 
 time he rose to go. 
 
 " Must you really and truly? " said Miss 
 Nancy, seeing the designed banquet melt- 
 ing away into thin air. 
 
 " Yes, I must go," said the rector. 
 " My little maid, before I say good-by, 
 let me offer you all I have to give." He 
 was holding out his hand, and Miss Nancy 
 thought it was to take hers ; but he laid 
 it on her head.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 2 5 
 
 " God bless you, my little maid ! " he 
 said. 
 
 " And now," said the rector, at the 
 door, " I have come to see you, and so 
 you must come to see me." 
 
 " In fair turns," said Miss Nancy, nod- 
 ding her head. 
 
 " Exactly," said the rector, and bowed 
 his farewell. 
 
 " Good-by" said Miss Nancy, endeav- 
 oring to execute as perfect a courtesy as 
 Aunt Norreys, a sweet but delusive hope, 
 to set a plain frock and pinafore against a 
 full skirt of pearl-gray satin. And then 
 the rector went, and Miss Nancy took 
 him to the head of the stairs, returning to 
 put the chairs in their places, with the 
 feeling that after this anything might be 
 expected to happen, and it would be as 
 well to be prepared for it. The pink kid 
 lady was also restored to the cupboard,
 
 2 6 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 for if she had been a little insufficient 
 before, she had now become quite 
 impossible. 
 
 " I have been having a visitor," an- 
 nounced Miss Nancy, with quiet and set- 
 tled satisfaction when Trimmer came in. 
 " He came to see me. Only me." 
 
 "Who was it?" demanded Trimmer, 
 with cruel unbelief. 
 
 " He said he was the new rector, and 
 I like him very much," said Miss Nancy. 
 " He came to see me. Only me. And 
 he said I must go and see him next, and 
 I shall soon go." 
 
 But Trimmer, standing with her head in 
 the cupboard, did not receive the full 
 force of Miss Nancy's last observation.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 2 7 
 
 II. 
 
 '"THE squire was a very shy man. The 
 Throgmortons of Forest Morton had 
 always been slow to come forward in any 
 respect, and the squire was additionally 
 characterized by that passive acquies- 
 cence which often distinguishes an old and 
 almost worn-out family. There was no 
 older name in the county, and none that 
 had been longer established in one spot 
 than Throgmorton of Forest Morton ; but, 
 at the same time, there was no old name 
 less celebrated, and no house less interest- 
 ing. The hall was almost as ugly as man 
 could make it, having been rebuilt by the
 
 28 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 squire's grandfather in a style more to 
 be remarked for solidity than beauty. A 
 square house of dark- red brick, a roof 
 almost flat disguised by a heavy stone 
 balustrade, and rows of windows of praise- 
 worthy equality ; in front, a paddock 
 dotted with thorn-trees, and a straight 
 drive between hurdles ; on one side of the 
 house, the gardens, on the other, the 
 only remnant of the older Hall, the group 
 of great elms where the rooks lived. The 
 interior of the house was as plain, and 
 heavy, and dull, for there had never been 
 much romance, never much talent, in the 
 family, a family at no time more (old 
 as it was) than a line of simple country 
 squires, who had been born in Forest 
 Morton, and had quietly lived there from 
 one sleepy year to another, until they had 
 as quietly died, and there been buried. 
 The squire was a silent man from per-
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 29 
 
 sonal habit, and shy, with an hereditary 
 shyness that nothing had ever been able 
 to overcome. The habit of silence if 
 habit it were had doubtless grown upon 
 him, but it had been a habit even when 
 his wife was alive. Aunt Norreys had 
 said to her at times, " But, my dear 
 Margaret, does John Throgmorton never 
 talk to you ? " And when she came to 
 think of it, the squire's wife had not been 
 able to say that he did ; and yet there 
 never could have been a more perfect 
 understanding than that which existed 
 between them. 
 
 The squire had married his second 
 cousin, against the wishes of her guardian 
 aunt, for, properly speaking, Aunt Nor- 
 reys was Miss Nancy's great-aunt. She 
 used to say, " Why Margaret married 
 him, / never could tell. If she must 
 have married a relation at all, why could
 
 30 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OK, 
 
 it not have been one of the Lester Nor- 
 reys ? Of course I have nothing at all 
 to say against John Throgmorton, for he 
 is really a very good sort of man, but it 
 was quite incomprehensible, quite in- 
 comprehensible, my dear." 
 
 But Miss Margaret had married him, 
 and the most incomprehensible part of 
 all was that she had never rued it. Per- 
 haps she had found more in John Throg- 
 morton than did the world in general, 
 perhaps she even had found in him all she 
 had need to seek on earth. She had 
 married him, and had come to the Hall 
 to be the light of the house for a brief 
 half-dozen years, and then died. So 
 the squire and Miss Nancy were left 
 alone, to walk through the fields, and 
 drive down the lanes, and sit in the 
 square pew at church, in forlorn com- 
 panionship, the big, silent squire, with
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 31 
 
 his brown cheeks and bushy beard, and 
 his little daughter, with her mother's dark 
 eyes and refined moulding, but too much 
 like the squire in feature to have any 
 pretensions to beauty. The squire and 
 Miss Nancy had learnt at this time to 
 be a great deal to each other, and indeed 
 the latter had never felt that she required 
 more company than dear daddy could 
 give her; but her view was necessarily a 
 limited one, and as usually happens in 
 such cases, to add to a loss which nothing 
 in this world could ever repair to him, the 
 poor squire found himself plunged into 
 innumerable difficulties with his house- 
 hold. So Aunt Norreys came to the 
 rescue, and remained for compassion's 
 sake, and tranquillity returned to the Hall. 
 With Aunt Norreys and the dove of 
 peace came Trimmer, neither maid nor 
 companion, and a person whose severe
 
 32 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 aspect involuntarily, if unreasonably, sug- 
 gested to the mind the old term, " wait- 
 ing-woman." And Trimmer coming into 
 contact with Miss Nancy's nursemaids 
 found herself quite unable to agree with 
 any one of them, and so differed ma- 
 terially with three in succession ; at which 
 point, for the sake of a quiet life, which 
 Aunt Norreys loved above everything, 
 she was permitted to ascend undisputed 
 to the throne of authority, whence she 
 governed Miss Nancy with a wholesome 
 if rather severe rule. 
 
 The only remnant of the lawless old 
 days spent with daddy consisted in an 
 occasional escape from Trimmer, and a 
 flying excursion in his company. The 
 squire, as Aunt Norreys was fain to 
 admit, was an easy man to live with, but 
 he still preserved this reprehensible habit 
 of coaxing Miss Nancy to go out with
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 33 
 
 him on every possible occasion. No one 
 could ever see that he took the least 
 notice of her when he had succeeded ; but 
 if the squire and Miss Nancy were satis- 
 fied, that side of the question could con- 
 cern no one else. The side which con- 
 cerned Aunt Norreys and Trimmer took 
 the form of those hurried retreats when 
 the young lady had been caught in storms 
 several miles from home, and, like Caro- 
 line in Miss Nancy's " Looking-Glass for 
 the Mind," had been compelled to re- 
 turn home " in a most disastrous con- 
 dition." But it was in vain that Trimmer 
 appealed to Aunt Norreys, and Aunt Nor- 
 reys remonstrated with the squire ; he 
 never by any chance entered into argu- 
 ment, and only turned a deaf ear upon 
 them. Perhaps, indeed, there was some- 
 thing about little Miss Nancy's society 
 which dimly recalled to the squire that of
 
 34 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 her dead mother ; but whether it were so 
 or not, he never said. Miss Nancy herself 
 had a faint memory of her mother ; she 
 thought at times that home had seemed 
 more when she was quite little than it had 
 ever done since, and she believed that 
 it was because mother was there. But 
 she died, and it was to be supposed that 
 it made all the difference. Miss Nancy 
 could remember that day, when, very 
 early in the morning, Mrs. Plummett 
 came and took her out of bed, and 
 carried her, wrapped in a shawl, to 
 mother's room, Miss Nancy bewildered 
 and half asleep, and Mrs. Plummett with 
 an awed look on her comfortable face. 
 
 Dear daddy sat very near to the bed, 
 and Miss Nancy sat on his knee, and 
 mother held both their hands between 
 her failing fingers, but did not speak, for 
 she was speechless then, and only half
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 35 
 
 conscious. So Miss Nancy was laid down 
 for a moment to receive mother's strange, 
 faint kiss, and then Mrs. Plummett carried 
 her away; and Mrs. Throgmorton looked 
 after her, and turned her dying eyes again 
 to the squire. 
 
 And when day came, the nurse-maid 
 said that mother was dead. But this Miss 
 Nancy had not been able to fully com- 
 prehend, nor had she comprehended the 
 strange silence and desolation of the days 
 that followed. It was certainly not that 
 she suffered then or afterwards an hour's 
 neglect at the hands of any member of 
 the household ; it was rather from feeling 
 a lack of something that she was sure she 
 had had once, but had not then, and 
 alas, poor little Miss Nancy ! never 
 would have again in all her life, that she 
 dimly understood that she had sustained a 
 great misfortune.
 
 36 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 And Miss Nancy had also a vague 
 belief that it was after this that dear 
 daddy began to be even more silent than 
 ever he had been before.
 
 THE THANKFUL HP: ART. 
 
 37 
 
 III. 
 
 x 
 " T AM far from complaining of Miss 
 
 Nancy," was always Trimmer's 
 opening when she zvas complaining of her. 
 She even went so far sometimes as to say 
 that she was a good child ; but this, of 
 course, behind her back, lest Miss Nancy 
 should become uplifted. Miss Nancy 
 was a good child ; but the best of chil- 
 dren will sometimes do the most un- 
 accountable things, and who could have 
 foreseen such an outbreak as the call 
 she paid at the rectory? It could not 
 have been called disobedience, for the 
 simple reason that it would never have
 
 38 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 occurred to any one to forbid such an 
 impossible thing. 
 
 Miss Nancy herself acted from a per- 
 haps mistaken but deeply grave sense of 
 propriety. The rector had said, " I have 
 come to see you ; now you must come to 
 see me," and Miss Nancy had said that 
 she would, and a promise is a promise. 
 She did not entirely like the thought of 
 going alone, but she had waited a whole 
 week, and neither daddy, nor Aunt Nor- 
 reys, nor Trimmer showed any sign of 
 going, and what was to be done? 
 
 So Miss Nancy went upstairs one after- 
 noon with all the serious calm of perfect 
 unconsciousness. She put on her boots 
 (sitting down on the floor to achieve the 
 act, as one does at ten years old) and 
 washed her face and hands, and feeling 
 that the occasion demanded an effort, 
 laboriously buttoned herself into that very
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 39 
 
 best bottle-green coat so peculiarly hated 
 by her, which was therefore very con- 
 scientious behavior on Miss Nancy's 
 part, when she might have chosen her old 
 red cloak. Her best bonnet was out of 
 reach, but she hoped the rector would 
 excuse her everyday one. Then she went 
 quietly and gravely downstairs, and set 
 out to pay her call, far too much in 
 earnest to remember that the drive was 
 well commanded by Aunt Norreys' 
 favorite window of the white panelled 
 drawing-room. 
 
 Miss Nancy's heart beat fast as she 
 opened the rectory gate, for she was by 
 no means a fearless child ; but courage is 
 a higher quality than fearlessness, and she 
 inherited from the squire a kind of silent 
 endurance which could be made to serve 
 as courage. A straight walk ran up to 
 the house between wide flower-borders,
 
 4 
 
 MASTER BARTLEMY. 
 
 with a hedge on either hand. There were 
 daffodils nodding all the way up the bor- 
 ders, and in the orchard hedge was an 
 almond-tree in bloom, pink against the 
 blue sky. There in the walk stood the 
 rector himself, with one hand under his 
 coat-tails, and the other waving gently in 
 the air. He was speaking aloud, and 
 Miss Nancy thought at first that he must 
 be talking to some one over the hedge ; but 
 as she came up the walk, she found that 
 he was looking up at the almond-tree, and 
 reciting with much earnest declamation of 
 a quaint, deliberate, gone-by style 
 
 " Plant, Lorde, in me, the tree of godly lyfe, 
 Hedge me about with Thy strong fence of faith ; 
 If Thee it please, use eke Thy pruning-knife, 
 Lest that, O Lorde ! as a good gardiner saith 
 If suckers draw the sappe from bowes on hie, 
 Perhaps in tyme the top of tree may die. 
 Let, Lorde ! this tree be set within Thy garden-wall 
 Of Paradise, where grows no one ill sprig at all."
 
 "HE WAS SPEAKING ALOUD." Page 40.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 43 
 
 Miss Nancy -had been taught that it was 
 rude to interrupt her elders, and she 
 believed it would probably be also wicked 
 to interrupt what sounded like a hymn, 
 so she stood and waited until the rector 
 had come to an end, and then advanced 
 another shy step. The rector turned 
 round and saw her. 
 
 " Dear me," he said, putting on his 
 spectacles, " is this little Miss Nancy? " 
 
 "Yes, thank you," said Miss Nancy; 
 " and I have come to call on you now." 
 Miss Nancy, though a very simple child, 
 was not a dull one, and there would have 
 been a cruel awakening for her if the 
 rector had even only smiled at that 
 moment, as she stood looking up in his 
 face. But the rector was almost as simple 
 as Miss Nancy herself. 
 
 " You do me a great honor," he said, 
 and taking off his hat, made such a slow,
 
 44 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 deep bow as was an admiration to behold. 
 Miss Nancy bowed likewise, her coat pin- 
 ning her too tightly to admit of any 
 courtesy. " Will you come into my house 
 and rest a little? " said the rector. 
 
 " I should like to stay in your garden, 
 if you please," replied Miss Nancy, not 
 feeling that she strictly required a rest. 
 
 " By all means," said the rector. " Let 
 us go and look how the tulips are com- 
 ing on." 
 
 " Yes, I should like that. I have not 
 been in this garden before," said Miss 
 Nancy, to whom the rector's predecessor 
 had been rather a formidable personage. 
 This rector was different from the first, 
 and Miss Nancy slipped her hand into his 
 from force of habit. The squire was 
 quite accustomed to it, but possibly the 
 rector was not. He did not speak for a 
 moment, but stood looking down at Miss
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 45 
 
 Nancy, and when he did speak, it was to 
 say something quite unexpected. 
 
 " God bless you, my little maid ! you 
 are very like your mother." 
 
 "No," said Miss Nancy, seriously; 
 " Trimmer says I have not got any of 
 he manners, and never shall have any 
 of her looks. Then did you know her?" 
 
 " Yes, I knew her," said the rector. 
 
 " And didn't you love her? " 
 
 " I did, my little maid." 
 
 " Yes, everybody did, because she was 
 so good. Trimmer says I never shall be 
 like her, so it is no use. Did you know 
 her quite well? " 
 
 They had reached the end of the v/alk 
 before the rector answered. " She did 
 not know me very well. I was much 
 older than she was, you see." 
 
 " But I suppose it was a long time ago, 
 when you were only a little old?" sug-
 
 46 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 gested Miss Nancy. " You didn't live 
 here then, did you? " 
 
 "No, I came to be your father's tutor, 
 when his father died, and he went to stay 
 at Willmeadow, before he went to col- 
 lege." 
 
 "Tutor?" hazarded Miss Nancy. 
 
 " I gave him lessons," said the rector, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Oh, then daddy must have been only 
 a little boy. I believed he was quite big 
 when he went to Willmeadow, to live with 
 Aunt Norreys." 
 
 " He was quite big. He was grown up, 
 and these were grown-up lessons, you 
 understand." 
 
 "I see," said Miss Nancy, doubtfully; 
 " but I did not know that grown-up peo- 
 ple ever had any lessons." 
 
 " Yes, they have. They have them, 
 indeed," said the rector, " even when
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART, 
 
 47 
 
 they are quite old, only they generally 
 learn those by themselves." 
 
 " Then you must have lived with Aunt 
 Norreys, and mother, and daddy at Will- 
 meadow. I know about that; sometimes 
 Aunt Norreys tells me stories of it. And 
 did you go on living there when daddy 
 went away? " 
 
 " No, I went away too." 
 
 "With daddy?" 
 
 " No, I went alone ; quite away. I, too, 
 needed some lessons," said the rector. 
 
 " Mother came to be here after that. 
 But she died, I think, a good many years 
 ago," said Miss Nancy, vaguely. " Did 
 you know that she died? " 
 
 "Yes," answered the rector, "I 
 knew " 
 
 And at this very moment Trimmer 
 came up the walk, avenging. There 
 could, perhaps, be few things more mor-
 
 48 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 tifying to any lady than to be followed 
 when she has set out to pay a call of some 
 ceremony, to be caught just when the 
 conversation begins to be easy, and to be 
 dragged back home in the full light of 
 day. In vain did the rector try to inter- 
 cede for poor little Miss Nancy, in pity 
 for her crimson cheeks ; it was in vain ; 
 Trimmer was respectful, but obdurate, 
 and drove the culprit away before her, as 
 being in disgrace, and to be made to feel 
 it. But Miss Nancy always did think 
 that Trimmer might at least have waited 
 until they had got outside the rectory 
 gate before she shook her. Only slight- 
 ly, it is true, but the ignominy was the 
 same; and in mute anguish of mind Miss 
 Nancy was conducted into the presence 
 of Aunt Norreys, to make a full confes- 
 sion. 
 
 " Arminel," said Aunt Norreys, adjust-
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 49 
 
 ing her gold glasses, " I am astonished, 
 perfectly astonished. Immediately tell 
 me the truth. Where have you been, 
 and what have you been doing?" 
 
 " I have been to call at the rectory," 
 said Miss Nancy, with bitter tears, but 
 making searching efforts after strict truth. 
 " The rector was in the garden, and he is 
 very like an apostle." 
 
 " Arminel, what are you saying?" 
 
 " I mean, he has hair long like an 
 apostle's, and I believe it is the Apostle 
 John, but an old hat, a very old hat, older 
 than daddy's," sobbed Miss Nancy. " I 
 went to see him because he came to see 
 me, for it was to see only me, whatever 
 Trimmer says. We walked about the 
 garden, and saw the things growing, and 
 we talked a little." 
 
 " Arminel, what did you say to the 
 rector?" demanded Aunt Norreys, with
 
 5O MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 some natural dread of what might come 
 next. 
 
 " I do not think I said anything at all 
 naughty, I do not remember it," sobbed 
 Miss Nancy. " We talked about daddy, 
 and the rector said he knew mother a 
 long time ago. But then Trimmer came. 
 I think he hadn't minded that I went, I do 
 think he hadn't. He said I did him a 
 great honor." 
 
 " Arminel, do not be absurd," said 
 Aunt Norreys. 
 
 At which point Miss Nancy fell into 
 an unintelligible abyss of shame and grief, 
 and was sent upstairs in disgrace ; more 
 as a preventive measure for the future, 
 than as actual punishment for the past, 
 but a consolation rather poor in itself, and 
 not pointed out to Miss Nancy, nor per- 
 ceived by her. 
 
 But the rector walked in the old rec-
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART 51 
 
 tory garden, and looked at the nodding 
 daffodils, and the almond-tree, and the 
 white clouds on the blue fields of heaven, 
 and was aware of an eloquent sermon 
 stealing into heart and mind. He thought 
 he could still see little Miss Nancy walk- 
 ing beside him through the garden, and 
 it was like some sweet old story of the 
 spring that had been told to him long 
 ago. For it is probable that the rector 
 had had his own spring story in his day, 
 and perhaps the memory of it came 
 strongly back upon him, if he did walk 
 about the garden with a hat even older 
 than the squire's on his white head, and 
 very tremendous spectacles absently rid- 
 ing high on his nose, and his hands under 
 those most unfashionable coat-tails. And 
 if one were curious enough to ponder the 
 rector's simple, high-minded courtesy to 
 the meanest woman in his parish, one
 
 5 2 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 might come to understand that there are 
 some blessed spring stories, which may 
 have no other happy ending than this, 
 that they leave a heart the better for their 
 coming.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 53 
 
 IV. 
 
 TN the course of some years' experience, 
 Trimmer had more than once had oc- 
 casion to remark that Miss Nancy's behav- 
 ior, like that of many children, ran in 
 grooves. When she conducted herself in 
 a manner creditable to herself and her 
 elders, she could be depended on for days, 
 and even weeks ; when she did otherwise, 
 Trimmer was less disturbed in mind by 
 the one deed committed, than by the 
 immediate prospect of others to follow. 
 Miss Nancy's next exploit was the more 
 painful to all properly constituted minds, 
 because it took place on Sunday. Nay,
 
 54 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 to confess the truth, it was actually in 
 church. 
 
 It was a Sunday in what might have 
 been either late spring or early summer. 
 Miss Nancy always remembered that she 
 wore a new Leghorn hat, and what Trim- 
 mer called a " lawn " frock with an em- 
 broidered hem, cool and spotless, and, 
 like everything chosen for Miss Nancy 
 by Aunt Norreys, plain, with that very 
 dainty plainness which is fine in the 
 extreme. 
 
 Miss Nancy walked to church with the 
 squire through the hall fields. Aunt 
 Norreys always drove, and every Sunday 
 it was Miss Nancy's surest aim to have 
 escaped, and have fairly set out with dear 
 daddy, before the lumbering old family 
 carriage came to the door. She had suc- 
 cessfully evaded it to-day, she had safely 
 set out with the squire, and she had
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 55 
 
 plodded beside him through the hall 
 fields to the churchyard gate, in the con- 
 tented silence which always prevailed be- 
 tween them. 
 
 One went through the churchyard 
 almost waist deep in meadow grass, under 
 a'sh-trees so ancient and spreading that 
 the little old church seemed half covered 
 with the trees, and half sunk into the 
 earth. The ivy had climbed triumphantly 
 to the battlements, making of the tower 
 one vast nest for hundreds upon hundreds 
 of birds. They flew out, chattering and 
 screaming at the sound of voices below, 
 and fluttered round the tower in a cloud, 
 jackdaws, and starlings, and martins, 
 to say nothing of the sparrows, who were 
 everywhere, and chiefly perching in rows 
 on the headstones. The porch was very 
 small and sunken, the rafters low within, 
 and the roof without so covered with ivy
 
 56 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 and traveller's-joy, that the doorway was 
 like the mouth of a green cave. 
 
 You also went down a step into the 
 porch, and down another into the church 
 itself, in a manner agreeably contrary to 
 your preconceived ideas, and which nat- 
 urally caused Miss Nancy, a mooning 
 child, as Trimmer truly said of her, to fall 
 forward into obscurity with an unseemly 
 noise nearly every Sunday of her life. It 
 was dark and cold within, after the sun- 
 shine outside, the rafters were so low, and 
 the flagged floor so sunken as to give a 
 general impression of going down into the 
 centre of the earth. The ivy had crept 
 under the eaves into the church, hanging 
 in corners like green banners ; and the 
 birds had followed the ivy, and fluttered 
 here and there all service time. There 
 were pigeons among the rafters (report 
 said that Tummus Trowle, the sexton, was
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 57 
 
 not quite guiltless of scattering corn on 
 the floor for them during the week), and 
 on drowsy Sunday afternoons the mice 
 came out and played on the chancel floor, 
 while the bats flitted overhead, like ghosts 
 of long-dead mice. 
 
 But this was considered only proper to 
 Forest Morton, the smallest and oldest 
 church in the shire with its primitive 
 tower of unhewn stone, and rude belfry 
 lights, its low arches, and small windows 
 deeply set in the massive walls. It might 
 also have boasted of that marvellous old 
 chancel wood-work, which had no coun- 
 terpart in all the country-side. It was 
 a standing admiration to Miss Nancy, a 
 fanciful dream of figures, and leaves, and 
 flowers, and sheaves of corn, and angels 
 with outspread wings and palms in their 
 hands. 
 
 Miss Nancy sat with the squire and
 
 58 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OK, 
 
 Aunt Norreys in the square Throgmorton 
 pew, with her feet half a yard off the 
 floor, owing to the shortness of her legs, 
 and her head half a foot from the pew- 
 back, owing to the width of her hat-brim. 
 And Miss Nancy being rather small, and 
 the sides of the pew rather high, the only 
 thing she could see as she sat was the 
 window opposite, a lattice of old green 
 glass, deep in the wall. It stood open in 
 summer, to Miss Nancy's great joy; for 
 the sunlight came through it in a very 
 enlivening manner, and she could see the 
 apple-trees in Tummus Trowle's garden, 
 and the ash-trees in the churchyard, and 
 the white roses that flourished under the 
 sunny window, and nodded friendly greet- 
 ings, and even came inside when occasion 
 offered. 
 
 Beneath the sunny window was an old 
 friend of Miss Nancy's. She looked at
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 59 
 
 him every Sunday, for he was always 
 there, at rest on his worn stone tomb, 
 being also stone himself, only he was such 
 a dear old friend that she had almost lost 
 sight of the circumstance. He lay in his 
 ruff and gown, with his hands crossed 
 very peacefully on his breast, and his 
 gentle face looking upward. He was not 
 a Throgmorton. Miss Nancy herself was 
 of opinion that he was too beautiful to 
 have been a Throgmorton, of whose looks 
 as a race she could not think highly. 
 Dear daddy was daddy, and as such for- 
 ever to be admired ; but from the dozen 
 dull portraits at the Hall it could only 
 have been concluded that the Throg- 
 mortons had been no more handsome 
 than they had been famous. 
 
 All her life Miss Nancy had cherished 
 a deep affection for this friend, looking at 
 him when she could not understand the
 
 6o MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 sermon (which was usually), and wonder- 
 ing how long he had been lying there so 
 silently, and whether the roses peeped in, 
 and nodded, and showered their petals on 
 him, because they loved him. There 
 were not many to think upon him, and 
 the dust lay thick over his body, and in 
 the few remaining letters of the rubbed 
 inscription. " Here ly Bartholom ." 
 Tummus Trowle, when he swept out the 
 church (a thing that, to do him justice, 
 rarely occurred to him), called him 
 Master Bartlemy and Miss Nancy too 
 called him Master Bartlemy, and rather 
 inclined to the belief that he had never 
 had any other name. 
 
 Miss Nancy sat and looked at him, very 
 upright, because of the brim of her hat, 
 and very stiff, because her shoes dangled 
 so far from the floor. The sunshine came 
 in through the open window, and made
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART, 6 1 
 
 a dancing pathway, which fell across 
 Master Bartlemy's face ; for Miss Nancy 
 had observed that if there were any sun- 
 shine at all, it always lingered there. He 
 lay and took his rest very quietly, and 
 the buds of the white roses peeped in 
 through the lattice, and nodded sleepily 
 at him; and Miss Nancy too nodded 
 sleepily, and would have fallen quite 
 asleep if the envious Leghorn would have 
 permitted it. 
 
 But then there came down a pigeon 
 from the darkness of the rafters and 
 settled on the old tomb, pluming himself 
 on Master Bartlemy's breast, with move- 
 ments so graceful and innocent that Miss 
 Nancy held her breath for fear of disturb- 
 ing him. And then he began to coo 
 softly, opening his wings in the sunlight, 
 and nestling against the crossed hands 
 of him who lay there as if, Miss Nancy
 
 62 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 thought, Master Bartlemy might once 
 have loved living creatures very dearly. 
 But Miss Nancy could not watch him to 
 her satisfaction, not even by stretching 
 herself out to be as thin and tall as possi- 
 ble. Interest outweighed every other 
 consideration ; if .she stood on the seat 
 she could see. Climbing was not exactly 
 churchlike behavior, but Miss Nancy dis- 
 tinguished between a loud climb and a 
 soft climb. The squire was leaning back 
 in his corner meditating, with eyes half 
 closed, and Aunt Norreys was leaning 
 back in hers, perhaps meditating too, but 
 with eyes quite closed. Miss Nancy knelt 
 gently on the seat ; Miss Nancy rose and 
 stood upon it. The pew-sides were high, 
 but in this commanding situation she was 
 higher, and the Leghorn hat looked trium- 
 phantly round. The church was very 
 quiet, the rector preaching, and at least a
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 63 
 
 part of the congregation engaged in sleep. 
 It was at this tranquil moment that the 
 cushion must slide away on the seat; as 
 Miss Nancy looked over the pew-sides it 
 slipped farther and farther, and Miss 
 Nancy came to the ground with a crash. 
 Aunt Norreys, who had been (possibly) 
 asleep, with difficulty suppressed a scream ; 
 while the squire, who had been honestly 
 meditating, coughed as loudly as possible 
 to cover the situation. 
 
 But nothing could disguise the fact that 
 Miss Nancy lay face downwards on the 
 floor, in her clean lawn frock, with the 
 new Leghorn hat under the seat. 
 
 " Arminel ! " whispered the scandalized 
 Aunt Norreys. Even the squire himself 
 said, " Hem." 
 
 " I have tumbled off the seat," returned 
 Miss Nancy in a muffled voice, and some- 
 what superfluously, considering that this
 
 64 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 was obvious to the most casual ob- 
 server. 
 
 " Immediately get up," desired Aunt 
 Norreys. The squire more practically set 
 Miss Nancy on her feet and returned to 
 search for the Leghorn, while Miss Nancy 
 stood wondering if there could be any 
 spectacle more shocking than that of a 
 little girl in church without a hat. The 
 only thing that could be urged in favor of 
 her conduct at this moment was that her 
 despair was at least silent, for church 
 was still church though one had disgraced 
 one's self. 
 
 And then the squire, having angled un- 
 der the seat with Aunt Norreys' parasol, 
 landed the Leghorn, and set it on its re- 
 pentant owner's head, but, a little unfortu- 
 nately, back to front, in which condition 
 Miss Nancy was then conducted out by 
 Trimmer, the stern, who had suffered a
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 65 
 
 shock that she could not have been ex- 
 pected to recover for the rest of the day. 
 
 " What you could have been doing is 
 beyond my imagination, Miss Nancy," 
 was her first observation, after walking 
 half way home in a kind of stunned in- 
 dignation. 
 
 " I only stood on the seat, Trimmer. I 
 stood quite softly; I didn't know that I 
 was going to fall so hard. I didn't mean 
 to be wicked in church," said Miss Nancy, 
 a prey to the keenest remorse. " I only 
 wanted " 
 
 " Well, what did you want, Miss 
 Nancy? " 
 
 " I only wanted to look at one of the 
 pigeons that was sitting on Master Bart- 
 lemy." 
 
 " On what, Miss Nancy? " 
 
 " On the gentleman who lies under the 
 window the stone one," explained the
 
 66 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 humbled Miss Nancy apologetically, turn- 
 ing her hat round. 
 
 " Miss Nancy," said Trimmer, with un- 
 abated severity, " I am ashamed of 
 you." 
 
 " It sat so prettily, Trimmer,'' faltered 
 Miss Nancy. " It sat on his fingers, and 
 cooed to him, and Master Bartlemy 
 seemed to be smiling. I was only look- 
 ing a little, and then I fell off the seat." 
 
 " You cannot expect to do wrong, Miss 
 Nancy, and not be punished for it," said 
 Trimmer. Miss Nancy acquiesced in si- 
 lence ; but there was a further develop- 
 ment of this point to be considered. 
 
 " Trimmer," she said, meekly, " do you 
 think I shall be more punished ? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Nancy, I certainly do, for 
 what else can you expect? " said Trimmer, 
 uncompromisingly, and drove the debased 
 Miss Nancy homewards before her.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 67 
 
 V. 
 
 I\A ISS NANCY sat in a window of the 
 white panelled drawing-room, en- 
 gaged in the pursuit of polite behavior. It 
 was a wet day, and she had been sent to 
 spend a sober afternoon under the eye of 
 Aunt Norreys, the squire having evinced a 
 dangerous inclination toward encouraging 
 her to accompany him in a walk across 
 the fields, a thing which Trimmer had 
 reasonable grounds for guarding against. 
 Miss Nancy had finished her appor- 
 tioned handkerchief hem for the day, 
 and had been pursuing good manners for 
 a full hour, without more diversion than
 
 68 MASTER BARTLEMY; OK, 
 
 she could find in herself, as was the an- 
 tique fashion of her upbringing. Aunt 
 Norreys could tell very agreeable tales 
 when she was so inclined ; but she was 
 not always so inclined, and Miss Nancy 
 did not dare to press the point. Not that 
 she found it dull to be left to herself: it 
 was a thing she was quite accustomed to ; 
 and looking now out at the rain falling 
 softly in straight lines, and the wet lawn, 
 and the stiff laurel walk, and the heavy 
 peonies under the windows, and now in 
 at the white panelled walls, and amber 
 satin curtains, and spindle-legged chairs, 
 and equally hideous and priceless dragon 
 china in the cabinets, she had happily 
 pursued one train of thought, until she 
 had arrived at a point when an answer 
 must positively be obtained. 
 
 "Aunt Norreys," said a gentle little voice 
 from behind the long- amber satin curtain.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 69 
 
 "Well, my dear?" said Aunt Norreys, 
 placidly. 
 
 " When I went out to ride with Giles 
 this morning, Aunt Norreys, we came 
 home by a new way ; I suppose because 
 it began to rain, and Giles wanted to 
 hurry. It was quite new, I never went it 
 before. We came along the St. Ed- 
 mund's road at first; but that was not the 
 new part, because I knew it as well as 
 can be. But then we turned into the 
 high pastures, and came behind the 
 church." 
 
 "Was that all, my dear?" said Aunt 
 Norreys, for Miss Nancy had stayed to 
 consider it. 
 
 " It was nearly all the ride, because we 
 soon came home after that. But it was not 
 all I was thinking. I saw a place I have 
 not seen before. I think it does not show 
 from the village because of a good many
 
 7o MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 trees. It was such a beautiful, beautiful 
 place ; a house all gray, not red, like 
 ours. The trees of the garden were round 
 it, I think," said Miss Nancy, wistfully. 
 " I think it was prettier than our house. 
 I should be rather glad if we had a roof 
 that went up and down, and if our chim- 
 neys curled like those ; and I wish, I 
 do wish that we had a big pear-tree with 
 boughs all flowers, and flowers, and 
 flowers, over the end where the sun is. 
 Don't you, Aunt Norreys?" 
 
 " Certainly not," said Aunt Norreys ; 
 " quite out of place, my dear." 
 
 " I rather do," said Miss Nancy. 
 "Giles called it a Portingale. I said to 
 him, 'What is this?' but Giles only said, 
 ' This here is an 'ouse.' ' 
 
 " Arminel," said Aunt Norreys, " I am 
 astonished at you." 
 
 "He said so," urged Miss Nancy, a
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 71 
 
 little discouraged ; " but I believe he 
 meant, 'This is a house.' He said that 
 it was only an old place where nobody 
 lived. I said, whose was it, but he didn't 
 know; and I said, why didn't somebody 
 live there, but he didn't know that either. 
 He said it was always like that, and he 
 reckoned I mean, he tJwugJit it had 
 always had been. And I said that I 
 hadn't seen that place before, and what 
 was its name? He said it was the 
 Thankful Heart. I think it is such a 
 very curious name for a house. I asked 
 him what it meant, but he said he didn't 
 know. Isn't it a curious name, Aunt 
 Norreys? Don't you think so too?" 
 
 Aunt Norreys nodded her head gently, 
 but gave Miss Nancy no open encourage- 
 ment to pursue her inquiries. 
 
 " I wish I knew about it. I never saw 
 a place like it before. I know names
 
 72 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 like the rectory, and Crabtree farm, and 
 those things, but I don't know a name 
 like the Thankful Heart. I asked Giles, 
 but it was no use. So then we came 
 home, because of the rain." 
 
 Aunt Norreys nodded more decidedly. 
 
 " But I know the way to it, if some- 
 times I might go, for I looked as much 
 as I could. You go through the church- 
 yard, past the window where the white 
 roses are, and there is a gate in the wall, 
 and some steps down from the yard ; 
 and they come into a lane, and you go 
 up it until there is no more lane, but only 
 gates. And after that, there is a way 
 through a field, where there are more 
 buttercups than anywhere else. And 
 then," said Miss Nancy, leaning forward, 
 with her dark eyes shining in her pale 
 little face, "and then you come to the 
 Thankful Heart."
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 73 
 
 Aunt Norreys snored aloud. 
 
 So Miss Nancy stole out, and went up- 
 stairs to the brown parlor. Trimmer was 
 not there, and she knelt down at the 
 window-seat, and talked it over with the 
 rooks in the elm-tree tops, having a sober 
 friendship with them of life-long standing. 
 They had the advantage of living so near 
 the window-seat that they were very con- 
 venient as confidants, for Miss Nancy, 
 however reserved, was occasionally com- 
 pelled, like many other lonely children, 
 to find some one or some thing to confide 
 in. 
 
 But these steady old acquaintances, 
 wisely and solemnly as they might caw 
 to her, afforded no practical assistance in 
 the present case, and Miss Nancy watched 
 the rain and the rooks together, until 
 Trimmer came in. 
 
 " Trimmer," began Miss Nancy at tea
 
 74 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 time, " if you please, what does the 
 Thankful Heart mean?" 
 
 " What thankful heart? " said Trimmer. 
 
 " I mean the house, near the church," 
 said Miss Nancy. 
 
 " Oh, to be sure. Well, Miss Nancy, I 
 suppose it is an old house, but I cannot 
 say I have ever seen it." 
 
 " Yes, I know it is a house," said Miss 
 Nancy ; "but what does it mean ? " 
 
 " Mean? " echoed Trimmer. " It means 
 a house, Miss Nancy." 
 
 " But the thing is, why should it have 
 that name? " 
 
 Trimmer preserved a discreet silence. 
 
 "Trimmer, do you know why?" ven- 
 tured Miss Nancy. 
 
 " No, Miss Nancy, I do not." 
 
 " But it is such a curious, curious name. 
 It makes me wonder so much. Don't you 
 think it might mean something?"
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 75 
 
 " No, Miss Nancy, I cannot say that I 
 do." 
 
 "But supposing that it did?" persisted 
 Miss Nancy, resting her elbows on the 
 table, and her chin on her hands. 
 
 " And supposing that it didn't," said 
 Trimmer, tartly. " Miss Nancy, take your 
 elbows off the table. That is what I am 
 supposing." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Nancy, obediently. 
 " Trimmer, now I have taken my elbows 
 off the table, could you tell me? " 
 
 "Tell you what, Miss Nancy?" said 
 Trimmer, with some exasperation. 
 
 "About the Thankful Heart, Trimmer." 
 
 " I cannot tell you more than I have 
 done, Miss Nancy. It is an old house, 
 and no more, and no less." 
 
 " I don't mean that," persisted Miss 
 Nancy. "I mean, what is it?" 
 
 " And haven't I just told you, Miss
 
 76 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 Nancy?" demanded Trimmer, with a kind 
 of exhausted patience. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Nancy ; " but you 
 don't understand, Trimmer." 
 
 However, this sounded so exceedingly 
 rude to an elder, that Miss Nancy blushed, 
 and hastened to add, before Trimmer 
 could reprove her, " I mean, I don't 
 understand." 
 
 " No, Miss Nancy," said Trimmer, 
 severely. " No, you do not." 
 
 " But I want to understand," said Miss 
 Nancy. "Trimmer, don't you think you 
 could make me?" 
 
 " You do not need to understand any- 
 thing but your duties. To obey your 
 elders, and tell the truth, and do your 
 lessons, and mind your behavior, what 
 more can you want, Miss Nancy?" 
 
 " I have tried to obey my elders all to- 
 day, Trimmer, and I don't remember tell-
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 77 
 
 ing anything but the truth, and I have 
 done my lessons, and minded my be- 
 havior a good deal, but still I want to 
 understand and I don't." 
 
 " Then do all those same things 
 more until you do," concluded Trimmer. 
 Which was, though perhaps evasive on 
 Trimmer's part, a saying deeper than she 
 knew. 
 
 " Yes. Only still I want to know," 
 said Miss Nancy, steadfastly. " But never 
 mind, Trimmer, because of course it does 
 not matter." 
 
 So Miss Nancy was led to bring the 
 subject forward for the consideration of 
 Giles, a person of an age unknown 
 though, as Miss Nancy believed, rather 
 great and of large attributes, in right of 
 his self-arrogation. 
 
 " Giles," said Miss Nancy accordingly, 
 upon the first opportunity, looking up
 
 78 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 from the modest level of the Shetland 
 pony at the cross old face on the height 
 of the squire's tremendous red horse, 
 " Giles, what kind of thoughts do you 
 have about the Thankful Heart?" 
 
 " Ah ! " said Giles, with an eye of un- 
 told wisdom, having never given much 
 thought to the subject, but having a mind 
 above admitting it. " Do you mean my 
 thankful heart, or somebody else's?" 
 
 " I mean the one the house means," 
 said Miss Nancy, somewhat obscurely, 
 " the old house near the church." 
 
 " Oh, ay ; that same old place. And 
 what about it, Miss Nancy? " 
 
 " I want to know what about it, Giles." 
 
 " Ay, well, Miss Nancy, I told you it 
 had never been aught in my time but a 
 gashly old place." 
 
 " Oh, no, Giles," said Miss Nancy seri- 
 ously, dimly perceiving the term, what-
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 79 
 
 ever it might mean, to be a lowering one, 
 " not at all gashly, / think. And you 
 said it was an old place before. But I 
 want to understand what a thankful heart 
 is, exactly." 
 
 " Well, I reckon it is being thankfully 
 minded," said Giles grudgingly, not being 
 himself of that disposition. 
 
 " And what ought one to be thankful 
 for? " 
 
 " For one's vittles, Miss Nancy." 
 
 "All of them?" inquired Miss Nancy, 
 with a lingering hope that there might be 
 a dispensation in favor of rice pudding, 
 when partaken of for the fourth time in 
 one week. 
 
 " Ay, I reckon so. And the clothes to 
 one's back." 
 
 " Even if they are clothes you do not 
 much like, Giles?" said Miss Nancy, faint- 
 heartedly, with the new Leghorn hat stalk-
 
 8o MASTER BARTLEMY , OR, 
 
 ing gloomily before her mind's eye, and 
 the bottle-green coat that pinched round 
 the neck. 
 
 " Ay, to be sure, for all one's clothes." 
 
 " And anything else, Giles? " 
 
 " For things mostly, Miss Nancy," said 
 Giles, though it went to his heart to con- 
 fess it. 
 
 " Then a thankful heart means, that you 
 are to be thankful for everything you 
 have, even for the things you do not 
 like?" 
 
 " Well, I wouldn't say that," said 
 Giles, inclined to back out at this view 
 of the matter ; " because I reckon a man 
 couldn't be thankful for things as he 
 wasn't thankful for." 
 
 " But it is generally rather rude to pick 
 out things, you know. I think it does 
 not seem nice only to be thankful for the 
 things you like to be thankful for," said
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 8 1 
 
 Miss Nancy, deeply. " Don't you think 
 so?" 
 
 But Giles did not think it by any 
 means, and declined to allow that he did. 
 
 " It isn't having a thankful heart, after 
 all, if you leave some of the things out," 
 argued Miss Nancy. 
 
 On which Giles took refuge in a sudden 
 access of majesty, and the discussion fell 
 to the ground. 
 
 " I cannot quite say it," was Miss 
 Nancy's conclusion, " but I think that it 
 is really and truly in the thankful heart. 
 If you have that, I believe you do feel 
 thankful, always for everything."
 
 82 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 VI. 
 
 ""TRIMMER," remarked Miss Nancy, 
 with studied affability, " I do know 
 such a nice walk ; you cannot think what 
 a good one it is." 
 
 ' Indeed, Miss Nancy," responded 
 Trimmer, with but moderate warmth. 
 
 "You would like it very much, I feel 
 sure that you would," pursued Miss 
 Nancy. " Trimmer, when you want to 
 go a new walk, will you tell me? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Nancy, I will. 
 
 This was not encouraging ; Miss Nancy 
 was reduced to plain speaking. " I 
 should like to go this walk very much. 
 Might we go to-day? "
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 83 
 
 If poor Trimmer could have found any 
 reasonable grounds for refusal, she would 
 gladly have availed herself of them, for, 
 like Aunt Norreys, she hated country 
 walks, but Miss Nancy had to be taken 
 somewhere. 
 
 "I begin to grow a little tired of the 
 road to St. Edmunds'/' said Miss Nancy. 
 " I know it rather well, you see. And 
 the road through the village, too." 
 
 " Miss Nancy," said Trimmer, deter- 
 minedly, " my face is fixed against fields." 
 
 " The new walk is a lane ! " cried Miss 
 Nancy, triumphantly. " It is not fields, 
 nor ditches, nor horses, nor cows. Trim- 
 mer, do you think we could go it? " 
 
 " I shall see when I get there," replied 
 Trimmer, guardedly. " Miss Nancy, do 
 not think that frock is clean enough to 
 go out in, for it is not. And that makes 
 three clean print frocks this week."
 
 84 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 " I don't want to put another on, Trim- 
 mer," said Miss Nancy, in subdued ac- 
 cents ; but, to propitiate the seat of 
 government, made no further protest, 
 and stood with exemplary patience to be 
 dressed in that plain but spotless gar- 
 ment considered by Trimmer the only 
 proper one for a young lady taking her 
 walks abroad in the season of summer. 
 Cleanliness came before godliness in 
 Trimmer's requirements. Miss Nancy 
 might accidentally be naughty now and 
 then, but under no circumstances might 
 she be dirty. 
 
 " This walk will begin like the village," 
 announced Miss Nancy, when the expedi- 
 tion had set out. " You will think it is 
 going to be through the village like the 
 old one, but it is not. Presently you will 
 see it." 
 
 Presently came just on the outskirts of
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 85 
 
 the village, when Miss Nancy opened the 
 churchyard gate. 
 
 " Miss Nancy, where are you going 
 now? " demanded Trimmer. 
 
 " It is a proper walk, quite proper," 
 said Miss Nancy, stoutly, leading the way 
 in much haste, lest Trimmer should 
 change her mind, past the sunny window 
 where the white roses peeped and nodded 
 to Master Bartlemy, to a wicket in the 
 churchyard wall, and down a flight of 
 worn steps into a little lane, very narrow, 
 and very deep. 
 
 " Trimmer, this is it," announced Miss 
 Nancy. 
 
 Trimmer did not respond with enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 " It looks very dirty, Miss Nancy," she 
 said. 
 
 " No, it is only a very little dirty, Trim- 
 mer, and I do not mind it, I do not, in-
 
 86 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 deed. And you do not know, Trimmer, 
 for you cannot possibly know, how beau- 
 tiful it is down there." 
 
 Trimmer turned down the new lane 
 with the eye of one who has doubts. 
 The churchyard wall was on one side, 
 and on the other an overgrown hedge, so 
 that the churchyard trees and the haw- 
 thorn bushes met overhead. This made 
 the lane very attractive to a person of 
 Miss Nancy's age ; but a person of Trim- 
 mer's could not be blind to the mud in 
 the deep ruts, and Trimmer picked her 
 way with a very dissatisfied face. 
 
 "Isn't it beautiful?" breathed Miss 
 Nancy. " But soon it will be more ! " 
 
 " I hope so, Miss Nancy," said Trim- 
 mer plainly, " for I was just beginning to 
 think that we would turn back." 
 
 " Oh, Trimmer ! When it is just here 
 at least, only such a little further ! "
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 87 
 
 " Well, Miss Nancy, I really do not see 
 what you have come to look at," said 
 Trimmer, but being by no means an 
 unkind woman, though a strict one, she 
 struggled on to Miss Nancy's goal. The 
 lane ended in old iron gates, hung on 
 stone pillars with great stone balls on 
 their tops. 
 
 " And, oh, Trimmer, it is here ! " said 
 Miss Nancy. 
 
 " There is not much to see here, Miss 
 Nancy," replied Trimmer; "I suppose 
 it is only that old place you talked 
 about." 
 
 Miss Nancy looked at her beseechingly. 
 "And don't you like it? But, Trim- 
 mer, mayn't I stay a few minutes, and 
 look?" 
 
 "Well, you may stay while I walk to 
 the corner and back," said Trimmer. 
 
 Miss Nancy thanked her gratefully;
 
 88 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 and Trimmer turned away, with the some- 
 what old reflection that there was no 
 accounting for the fancies of children. 
 What Miss Nancy could find to look at, 
 she failed to see ; and indeed exactly 
 where the attraction did lie does not 
 appear. Could we precisely define all 
 those odd fascinations of our childhood, 
 to which we still look back pleasantly, 
 if sometimes a little sadly? for alas, alas, 
 there are no such dreams now-a-days ! 
 
 Miss Nancy stood oblivious to all else, 
 clasping the bars of the gates, with her 
 face pressed to them, gazing in, with her 
 very heart in her eyes, upon a meadow 
 so yellow with buttercups that it was like 
 a field of gold, upon a path leading 
 through it to a low stone wall and an- 
 other gateway, of which the gates were 
 open, as if they had not been closed for a 
 long, long time. Miss Nancy could see
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 89 
 
 within. She saw a wide old courtyard 
 paved with stone, filled with yellow sun- 
 light, where the pigeons came down, and 
 fluttered and strutted ; she saw mellow 
 walls, latticed windows, twisted chimneys, 
 peaked roofs, overhanging gables, and 
 apple and pear trees all pink and white 
 with bloom. Behind, the rolling uplands 
 where the sheep pastured, and the hang- 
 ing birchwood falling down to the level 
 meadows, and before, the field of the 
 cloth of gold, where the buttercups grew, 
 and in the midst, the house of the 
 Thankful Heart. 
 
 " And don't you ever need to .go in- 
 side the gates, Trimmer?" asked Miss 
 Nancy, when she was finally torn from 
 the spot. 
 
 " No, Miss Nancy, certainly not. How 
 should I?" 
 
 Miss Nancy did not know, and pon-
 
 9 
 
 MASTER BARTLEMY. 
 
 dered the matter with unspeakable long- 
 ing all the way home. To visit the 
 Thankful Heart had now become the 
 chief aim of her existence ; but she must 
 needs bide her time in patience, for im- 
 patience had never in her life gained her 
 anything. 
 
 But Patience is a sure horse, however 
 slow, and, jogging steadily forward, carried 
 Miss Nancy at last almost within reach of 
 her desire. There came an evening when 
 over dessert the squire said, " I shall be 
 late for lunch to-morrow. Todd is com- 
 ing from St. Edmunds' to go over the 
 upland pastures with me. He is to meet 
 me at eleven o'clock at the Thankful 
 Heart." 
 
 He said it; and Miss Nancy heard it, 
 and though pale with sudden rapture, still 
 survived. 
 
 But good steed as Patience may be, she
 
 : ARRAYED IN A SINGULAR COLLECTION OF GARMENTS. 
 
 Page 93.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 93 
 
 cannot avert the inevitable, and as poor 
 Miss Nancy perceived from her window, 
 the next morning was a wet one, and not 
 a little wet, but sullenly pouring. She 
 watched the weather with a failing heart 
 all breakfast time, and well aware that in 
 face of it any request preferred to Aunt 
 Norreys could only meet with a most 
 reasonable refusal, ended by trusting to 
 her old expedient of escaping from Trim- 
 mer to join the squire at the last moment. 
 But Miss Nancy was unskilful in strategy, 
 and the enemy had overwhelming advan- 
 tages, and presently surprised her in the 
 act of flight, arrayed in a singular collec- 
 tion of such garments as lay at her com- 
 mand ; an old hat of the squire's which 
 could come to no further harm, her own 
 red cloak, her strongest boots, and by 
 way of great precautions, a cast-off pair 
 of Trimmer's goloshes.
 
 94 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 " Miss Nancy ! " exclaimed the astound- 
 ed Trimmer. 
 
 " I am just going out with daddy, 
 Trimmer," faltered the guilty young 
 lady. 
 
 " Oh, are you, Miss Nancy? " rejoined 
 Trimmer grimly. " Now you will do 
 nothing of the sort." 
 
 " Trimmer," said Miss Nancy, desper- 
 ately, " I must go." 
 
 " Miss Nancy, take those things off 
 immediately." 
 
 " Trimmer, I will go ! " 
 
 " Miss Arminel ! " said Trimmer in a 
 fearful voice, for Miss Nancy's rebellious 
 moments were so few and fleeting as to 
 be an astonishment when they did come. 
 
 "I mean, Trimmer, mayn't I go? Oh, 
 Trimmer, if I sit under the apron of the 
 
 gig?" 
 
 "Miss Nancy, you know very well that
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 95 
 
 you may not. Your Aunt Norreys would 
 not listen to it for a moment, and as 
 for your papa, well, I hear him driving 
 away now." 
 
 Which indeed he did ; and Miss Nancy 
 was left at the head of the stairs in such 
 an agony of disappointment as we have 
 all felt at her age, but happily not often 
 afterwards ; for although one's disappoint- 
 ments may be as keen, they lose at least 
 the utter helplessness of those days. 
 
 " Miss Nancy, will you do as you are 
 bidden?" 
 
 Trimmer's voice recalled her to herself, 
 and to the fact that she really was left at 
 home, and the day must be faced. 
 
 " I feel as if I should soon be naughty, 
 I feel as if I couldn't help it ! " Miss 
 Nancy's voice died away wailfully. 
 
 " Miss Nancy, you know you never 
 could have gone in this rain, so do not
 
 96 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 make a piece of work about it. Go and 
 take those things off." 
 
 " I did so want to go, I did so want to 
 go," stammered Miss Nancy incoherently, 
 obeying more by instinct than anything 
 else, and shuffling miserably after Trim- 
 mer, with the goloshes treading on each 
 other's toes, and the squire's hat halfway 
 down her face. " I wanted more than 
 anything in the world. I thought I could 
 go with daddy, if I was very good. Oh, 
 Trimmer, and he was going to the Thank- 
 ful Heart ! And you have made him go 
 without me. Oh, Trimmer, Trimmer, 
 Trimmer ! " 
 
 Trimmer was perforce deaf to this 
 heartrending appeal ; but she was a feel- 
 ing person in her own way. 
 
 It is not indeed quite to be ascertained 
 whether Trimmer had not herself under- 
 taken the task, when one day she an-
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 97 
 
 nounced, " Miss Nancy, Mrs. Plummett's 
 rheumatism being so bad that she cannot 
 go out, I have to go for her to-morrow, 
 to take some things to a sick woman. 
 If you are good you may go with me. 
 It is the shepherd's wife, who lives in the 
 farmyard of the Thankful Heart." 
 
 But there certainly seem to be times 
 when fate has nothing for us but buffets ; 
 which are doubtless salutary, but, like 
 other salutary things, not to be taken 
 without a gulp. 
 
 When Trimmer came to Miss Nancy's 
 bedroom in the morning, she found her 
 young lady standing on a chair before the 
 looking-glass, the better to obtain a com- 
 manding view down her own throat. " I 
 do not see it sore inside, but it feels as if it 
 soon might be," Miss Nancy said, turning 
 round a small, woe-begone face with wan 
 cheeks and great, anxious eyes, and speak-
 
 98 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 ing in that croaking voice which always 
 heralded a sore throat of that form to 
 which she was much addicted, and which 
 was the more to be dreaded because it 
 was inherited from her mother. 
 
 " And Miss Nancy the picture of 
 her this minute ! " said Trimmer almost 
 aloud. " And she was only ill three days, 
 and it was her throat." 
 
 " Get back into bed at once, Miss 
 Nancy," adjured Trimmer, " or I cannot 
 tell how much sorer it may be. Now, you 
 shall have your breakfast in bed, and we 
 shall see how you feel after that." 
 
 " Do you think it may be gone by the 
 time I have had my breakfast, Trimmer? " 
 
 " Well, we shall see," replied Trimmer, 
 tucking Miss Nancy up in bed. " You 
 must lie still now, and perhaps if you eat 
 your breakfast, your throat may be better 
 after it."
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 99 
 
 But alas, it was no better, even after 
 Miss Nancy's very gallant attempt at her 
 bread and milk, and the tears would 
 trickle down her cheeks as she began to 
 perceive that she must make up her mind 
 to that only too familiar calamity which 
 she dolorously called, " having a throat." 
 
 " I haven't brought it on myself, Trim- 
 mer, as you said I did before," she 
 croaked piteously. " I haven't been in the 
 fields with daddy all this week. And oh, 
 Trimmer, Trimmer, I cannot go to the 
 Thankful Heart again ! " 
 
 Trimmer could find no immediate con- 
 solation for poor little Miss Nancy under 
 this second grievous blow. It was but 
 cold comfort when she said, "Well, Miss 
 Nancy, if you cannot go, I will not, and 
 someone else shall take the things," be- 
 cause Miss Nancy was fully aware that 
 it was no disappointment at all to her.
 
 loo MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 11 And you must not cry and fret," pur- 
 sued Trimmer, " because you will only 
 make yourself feverish. The better you 
 behave now, the happier you will feel 
 after it." 
 
 But it cost Miss Nancy a sharp struggle 
 before she could say that she did not 
 mind it now, at least, not so mucJi. But 
 she did achieve it in the end, having her 
 little inheritance of that passive endurance 
 that is often one of the dignified graces of 
 an old house drawing near to its end. 
 The squire came to see her, and Aunt 
 Norreys sat with her for an hour, and so 
 the morning passed, and Trimmer brought 
 her dinner, which took the cheerful form 
 of gruel ; and, unfortunately, Miss Nancy 
 hated gruel. 
 
 "Trimmer, need I?" she whispered, 
 having by this time passed beyond the 
 croaking stage.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. ioi 
 
 " Yes, Miss Nancy," said Trimmer, 
 hardening herself, " you certainly need, 
 so take it like a good girl." 
 
 Miss Nancy looked at the gruel and 
 fought with herself; but even in her 
 small degree, she had not pondered the 
 thankful heart in vain. She bent her 
 head, and put her hands together. 
 
 " For what we are about to receive," 
 she whispered courageously, wrestling 
 with an enormous sob, " may the Lord 
 make us truly thankful." And, seasoning 
 her repast with some furtive and very 
 salt tears, Miss Nancy attacked the gruel. 
 
 " And now you shall do nothing all 
 afternoon but amuse yourself," said Trim- 
 mer; which sprightly promise she con- 
 sidered a very felicitous way of putting 
 an enforced sojourn in bed, and so pro- 
 ceeded to invest Miss Nancy with a 
 further dressing-gown, and to prop her
 
 102 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 up in bed, and bring her an armful of 
 books. But while acknowledging Trim- 
 mer's kindness, Miss Nancy could scarcely 
 fail to regard it as only a poor substitute 
 for the Thankful Heart, and she looked at 
 the books sadly. 
 
 For Miss Nancy's library was a small 
 one, and the books were nearly all of a 
 warning cast. The stories in the little red 
 volumes of the " Children's Friend " were 
 chiefly fearful narratives of the sudden 
 deaths of children who flew into passions, 
 or used bad language, or broke the Sabbath, 
 and were apt to have a depressing effect 
 on the mind, not to speak of the peculiar 
 atmosphere of gloom that hung round the 
 boy who asked to be put in his little 
 coffin. And Miss Nancy never could 
 see her way to holding such religious 
 conversations with any of her relatives 
 and friends as the standard of the " Chil-
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 103 
 
 dren's Friend " seemed to demand con- 
 versations such as the " Children " main- 
 tained with ease and fluency, and generally 
 with the happiest results as to immediate 
 conversion on the side of the elders. 
 
 In fact, Miss Nancy had never been 
 able to find anything to do in the way 
 of her duty, except the old round of 
 obeying Aunt Norreys, and telling the 
 truth, and minding her manners, and try- 
 ing to be as tidy as Trimmer required, 
 and learning her lessons. 
 
 Then there was " Kate, or the Punish- 
 ment of Pride," and a very delightful 
 book too, only unhappily Miss Nancy 
 knew it almost by heart; and the same 
 objection applied to Miss Hofland's tales. 
 There was nothing left but the dear old 
 " Looking-Glass for the Mind," and Miss 
 Nancy turned over the leaves with 
 languid fingers, and read of little Adol-
 
 104 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 phus and Annabella's journey to market, 
 and Alfred and Dorinda, and Anthony 
 and Augustus or Rational Education 
 preferable to Riches ; and looked at John 
 Berrick's quaint cuts of these stilted 
 young persons in tall hats, and square 
 coats, and long gowns. 
 
 But Miss Nancy's head ached, and her 
 eyes ached also, and when Trimmer came 
 again, the books were laid aside, and 
 Miss Nancy was leaning back on her 
 pillow, and, as she said, thinking a little 
 about the Thankful Heart. For, like the 
 stories in the dear, impossible, old 
 " Looking-Glass," it, too, had pointed a 
 moral, and read Miss Nancy a lesson 
 that day. And little Miss Nancy, having 
 concluded that this was one of those 
 lessons spoken of by the rector, which 
 we must learn alone, had addressed her- 
 self to the uphill task of learning it, with
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 105 
 
 the silent patience that came of her gentle 
 blood. 
 
 " And now, if you behave properly," 
 said Trimmer, " I will tell you about what 
 your mamma used to do at Willmeadow, 
 until you fall asleep." 
 
 " I am behaving properly," gasped 
 Miss Nancy in faint accents, with her 
 hands pressed tightly over her lips, to 
 keep the sobs back by main force. " I 
 have tried to behave above everything 
 you can think of, and I am not fretting, I 
 am not, I am not!" 
 
 " No, Miss Nancy, I see that you are 
 not;" said Trimmer handsomely, "and 
 I will say that you have behaved like a 
 young lady to-day." 
 
 Which high testimony filled up Miss 
 Nancy's cup to the brim, it overflowed in 
 scalding tears of various feelings. 
 
 " I can go on behaving," she said, with
 
 106 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 the counterpane over her head, and a wet 
 pad of handkerchief in each eye, " I can 
 go on behaving till I fall asleep. But I 
 cannot, I cannot be quite thankful enough 
 yet."
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 107 
 
 VII. 
 
 \ 7IRTUE was its own reward in the case 
 of Miss Nancy's commendable behav- 
 ior under the cruel disappointments she 
 had sustained ; or rather, it is to be hoped 
 that it was its own reward, for she had 
 nothing else. At least, she had nothing 
 immediately, and one has to live in the 
 immediate. 
 
 So she recovered, and the world went 
 on as if she had not endured anything, as 
 indeed it is very apt to do. For Miss 
 Nancy had suffered. To have a sore 
 throat was painful, but what was it to miss- 
 ing the Thankful Heart twice over? And
 
 I0 8 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 in the meantime, the days were passing 
 by, until Miss Nancy had almost fallen 
 into a resigned way of believing that for 
 some reason it was impossible for her 
 ever to get thither. 
 
 But reparation has a fashion of coming 
 to us from the most unexpected quarters. 
 Nothing could have been further from 
 Miss Nancy's thoughts on that midsum- 
 mer afternoon, yet at the identical happy 
 moment when, kneeling on the floor, she 
 had engulfed herself in the lower half of 
 the cupboard, to put away her lesson- 
 books, at that moment came Bailey to 
 the door with the rector's compliments, 
 and Aunt Norreys having accorded her 
 permission, would Miss Nancy do him the 
 honor to take a walk with him? 
 
 " Oh, Bailey ! " cried Miss Nancy, 
 emerging breathlessly, feet first, after a 
 pause of stunned astonishment passed in-
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 109 
 
 side the cupboard, and knocking her head 
 a most resounding bump against the shelf. 
 " Oh, Bailey, she would, she would ! Go 
 and tell the rector; and run before he 
 goes away, and say that she would ! " 
 
 " There, Trimmer ! " said Miss Nancy, 
 in the height of her gratification. 
 
 "Very well, Miss Nancy, you will have 
 to be made tidy," responded Trimmer. 
 
 Thus rudely brought down, Miss Nancy 
 had leisure to remember her wounds, and, 
 rather late, felt the back of her head. But 
 Trimmer raked her from head to foot with 
 a searching eye, as a preliminary meas- 
 ure, and as a following one, swept her 
 away to her bedroom, whence she pres- 
 ently issued with a clean sun-bonnet, and 
 the raw appearance of one who has just 
 been washed and brushed with some 
 severity. 
 
 " Now you may go, and mind your be-
 
 HO MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 havior," said Trimmer, who was a ter- 
 rific dragon on the (now unfortunately 
 out of date) subject of manners. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Nancy, obediently, 
 and minded it extremely hard all the way 
 downstairs, and set ofif beside the rector 
 with pride only tempered by a deep sense 
 of the manners befitting the occasion. 
 
 " You see," said the rector, " as I was 
 about to take my walk, it occurred to me 
 that I should like company." 
 
 "I like being company very much," 
 said Miss Nancy, seriously. " Generally I 
 am daddy's, but I cannot be it always. 
 And I do not enjoy being Trimmer's com- 
 pany so much, because she does not like 
 anywhere dirty." 
 
 " I trust you will enjoy being my com- 
 pany," said the rector, with correspond- 
 ing gravity ; and they went out of the 
 gates and down the long shady road to the
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. m 
 
 village, side by side, the rector rather 
 tall and Miss Nancy rather short, but 
 still hand in hand, like dear friends. And 
 then the rector opened the churchyard 
 gate. 
 
 "Are we going through here?" said 
 Miss Nancy, with a flush mounting in her 
 cheeks. " I know a walk which goes this 
 way. It goes down a lane." 
 
 " Exactly," said the rector. 
 
 " It is my dearest walk of all," said 
 Miss Nancy. 
 
 " This is mine also," replied the rec- 
 tor. 
 
 Something rose up in Miss Nancy's 
 throat then, and her heart beat thick and 
 fast. If she were to be disappointed this 
 time, she must disgrace herself, and that, 
 too, before the rector. And they went 
 on under the sunny window to the wicket 
 in the churchyard wall, and up the for-
 
 112 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 gotten little lane, to the gates of the 
 Thankful Heart. 
 
 "Do we turn back now?" whispered 
 Miss Nancy, flutteringly. 
 
 "No," replied the rector. "I gener- 
 ally go in, unless you do not like." 
 
 " I do like, I do like. I have wanted 
 to go so much," said Miss Nancy, almost 
 with a sob "so extremely much ! " 
 
 " Then I am rejoiced indeed," said the 
 rector, and opened the heavy, old iron 
 gates between the pillars with the stone 
 balls upon them. They went through 
 the buttercup meadow to the gateway in 
 the wall, and into the courtyard, a broad, 
 stone-paved courtyard peacefully enclosed 
 in its walls, with the mellow front of the 
 old house on the fourth side ; at one end, 
 the pigeon-cote, with the pigeons cooing 
 and nestling in the sun, and at the other 
 a gray stone basin into which fell the
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 113 
 
 spring from the uplands. There were 
 
 "THERE WERE WORDS CUT IN THE STONE." 
 
 words cut in the stone over the basin; 
 they said, " Give thanks." And the water
 
 H4 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 tinkled into the basin, and rippled over its 
 edge, and bubbled always the same words, 
 " Give thanks, give thanks, give thanks ! " 
 There was a door in the wall at each 
 end of the courtyard, and the rector took 
 Miss Nancy slowly round the old building. 
 The farmyard was on the north side, 
 empty save for the corner occupied by the 
 shepherd of the flocks on the uplands. 
 On the east side the meadow came un- 
 broken to the walls of the house, and the 
 sheep had come down from the high past- 
 ures, and through the fallen fence of the 
 hanging birch-wood, to cluster under the 
 windows ; while overhead the nests of the 
 swallows clustered also, and hung down 
 one beneath another under the eaves. 
 Miss Nancy thought that she would 
 rather have tall dog-daisies, and waving 
 meadow-grass, and a soft cluster of sheep 
 close under her windows, and swallows
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 415 
 
 chattering above it, than even elm-trees 
 and rooks. 
 
 The garden lay on the south side, a 
 wilderness of mossy apple-trees and over- 
 grown bushes, and under the windows of 
 the house a tangle of old herbs and 
 flowers, with the great " Portingale " 
 against the wall high overhead. 
 
 The rector and Miss Nancy rambled 
 back into the sunny courtyard, and stood 
 to look at the house, with its doorway so 
 deep and wide that it was a room in it- 
 self, and its latticed windows in projecting 
 bays, with gables overhead. There grew 
 garlands of old pale-pink roses, so loose- 
 blowing that they were more single than 
 double, and under the windows great 
 bushes of fuschia and Jew's-mallow. But 
 Miss Nancy was looking chiefly at the 
 doorway, and at the great oak beam over 
 it, for there were words cut in it.
 
 Il6 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 " In the Yeare of Our Lorde 
 
 Given unto God's Poore for ever, 
 In token of the Thankful Heart. 
 Amen." 
 
 " You cannot go inside, can you ? " 
 whispered Miss Nancy. 
 
 " We will go in, if you like," said the 
 rector. " The shepherd's wife will bring 
 the key. But I think you will find it a 
 melancholy place, my little maid." 
 
 The door opened into the hall, with its 
 walls panelled in oak, and its ceiling of 
 oak cut into octagons by the beams, and 
 its broad staircase with shallow steps. 
 There were benches against the wall on 
 either side, and in the middle was a black 
 oak table, plain and massive ; for this 
 was the place where God's poor had been 
 wont to dine together. But it was very 
 chill, and bare, and empty, and Miss 
 Nancy shivered.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 117 
 
 What she had expected to find she did 
 not know herself, but she had had ex- 
 pectations. Yet, alas ! which of us in 
 attaining his desire finds it to be entirely 
 what he thought? Which of us, at last 
 reaching up to success, does not sigh 
 after all? It is doubtless well so; it may 
 be a sense beyond our own control ; it 
 may even be that it comes from above, 
 and would thither return, where there are 
 neither strivings nor shortcomings. 
 
 But it was certain that from the mo- 
 ment of crossing the threshold Miss 
 Nancy's dream began to be troubled. 
 The rector led the way, and she crept 
 after him, into one empty room after 
 another, with lattices long closed, where 
 the dawn looked in morning after morn- 
 ing, doors long open, where the sunset 
 shone through into the passages evening 
 after evening, and hearths long closed,
 
 n8 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 where no light fell ; down passages where 
 a footfall echoed strangely; into rooms 
 overhead, with gable windows looking 
 out on the quiet meadows, and lattices of 
 yellow light on the bare walls, and floors 
 that creaked mournfully beneath the 
 tread ; and down the staircase that was 
 still, and yet not silent, and into the hall 
 again, from which the spirit of the old 
 days had fled. And it was very chill, and 
 bare, and empty; and Miss Nancy shiv- 
 ered eeriely, and awoke from her dream. 
 
 The rector turned towards the door, 
 but Miss Nancy did not beg even a few 
 minutes' grace; she only followed very 
 silently. She was thinking, in a desolate 
 way, of a confused multitude of things, 
 but principally she remembered that the 
 sun-bonnet had been uncomfortably stiff, 
 and the strings a degree too tight, when 
 she set out on her walk, and she was
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 119 
 
 beginning to wonder now whether she 
 could bear it much longer. Poor little 
 Miss Nancy ! If her disappointments had 
 been hard to bear, the awaking from her 
 dream was far, far harder. 
 
 But that empty page, so unspeakably 
 drearier than any written one, however 
 crabbed, must be turned over with the 
 others, when its time comes ; only at ten 
 years old one's philosophy cannot bear 
 a very heavy strain, and the sight of the 
 sleepy courtyard brought back the poor, 
 foolish old dream so pitifully, that Miss 
 Nancy felt that she must either untie the 
 strings of her bonnet, or choke. Nothing 
 seemed to care ; the water rippled in the 
 gray basin, and the pigeons fluttered 
 round the dovecotes, and nestled in the 
 yellow light, and the sheep bleated faintly 
 on the uplands, and the larks sang high 
 over the meadow.
 
 120 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 And so Miss Nancy suddenly and in- 
 explicably burst into bitter tears. 
 
 "What, Nancy?" said the astonished 
 rector. " Have you hurt yourself? Are 
 you tired? What is the matter? " 
 
 "I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it!" 
 cried Miss Nancy. " I had meant so hard 
 to be good, but I cannot bear it any 
 more ! " 
 
 " Bear what, my dear little maid? " said 
 the rector, much concerned. 
 
 " I loved it so much, and I wanted to 
 come to it more than anything. Oh, I 
 did, I did ! " 
 
 " And now you are disappointed in 
 it?" said the rector, after a pause. 
 
 " I don't know," was all Miss Nancy 
 could reply between the sobs. 
 
 " But I thought you understood that it 
 was only an empty old house, Nancy? " 
 
 " I don't know. I didn't think it would
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 121 
 
 be like that," sobbed Miss Nancy. " And 
 there is nobody there at all, and yet it 
 says over the door that it was given to 
 God's poor, it says for ever." \ 
 
 " Yes, my little maid," said the rector, 
 slowly. " It was given to God's poor 
 forever, to the poor of Forest Morton 
 parish. But that is the sad part that I 
 told you of. The endowment failed long 
 ago ; I mean, Nancy, that there is no 
 longer any money with which to support 
 the old house." 
 
 " Then it is no use that the Thankful 
 Heart was given, and it is all lost, and I 
 am sorrier than ever." 
 
 " And yet, I would say, not lost," 
 replied the rector, pacing the courtyard. 
 " The spirit of the gift is more than the 
 gift itself, my little maid, and that can 
 never be lost, having passed once for all 
 beyond us and our marring."
 
 122 MASTER BARTLEMY; OK, 
 
 " But what is it?" said Miss Nancy, try- 
 ing to suspend her sobs. 
 
 " I mean the deep thought of the heart, 
 with which the gift was given, Nancy." 
 
 " I think I begin to know it," said Miss 
 Nancy, " only I cannot say it. It means 
 that nothing could ever take away that it 
 was given once." 
 
 And the rector bent his head, and said, 
 " In token of the Thankful Heart. Amen." 
 
 He sat down on one of the benches 
 under the lattices, and Miss Nancy sat 
 beside him, and wiped her eyes, with a 
 vague sense, however little understood, 
 of a quiet consolation. The water still 
 rippled in the basin, and the larks sang 
 above the buttercup meadow, but it 
 seemed with another note, and there was 
 a deeper rest in the peace of the Thankful 
 Heart. 
 
 " Once upon a time, Nancy," said the
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 123 
 
 rector, " there was a man, an old man, 
 who had almost come to the end of his 
 days. He sat at his open window on a 
 midsummer evening, yes, it might have 
 been such an evening as this. His work 
 lay on the bench before him, but his tools 
 were still, for he was dreaming; and he 
 saw, as if they had been pictures, scenes 
 that had been long ago. 
 
 " He saw a picture in a forest, the heart 
 of a forest, where the deer and the squir- 
 rels lived, and it was cool, and green, and 
 still. There stood two boys, about the 
 same age, but alike in nothing else, for 
 one was the young squire, and the other 
 was a peasant boy, bareheaded, bare- 
 footed, and ragged. He stood looking 
 down, with his hands behind his back, and 
 the sunshine fell between the trees on 
 both alike, on the young squire and on 
 the ragged peasant boy.
 
 124 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 "' But show me what you were doing,' 
 said the young squire. 
 
 " ' I was cutting,' said the boy, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " ' Yes, I saw, but show it to me.' 
 
 " The boy drew his hands from behind 
 his back, slowly and unwillingly, and 
 showed the piece of wood they held. 
 
 "The young squire cried out when he 
 saw it, ' Have you done this ? How did 
 you do it? ' 
 
 " ' I have a knife of my own/ said the 
 ragged boy, and he held it out proudly in 
 his hand poor boy, it was such a knife ! 
 
 " ' But you could not carve with a thing 
 like that,' said the young squire. 
 
 " ' My knife is a very good one,' replied 
 the boy, with a glow on his brown cheeks. 
 ' Give me my wood back. I can make it 
 better than it is.' 
 
 " ' I think it is beautiful already,' said
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 125 
 
 the young squire, simply. ' It is the 
 Good Shepherd, is it not ? ' 
 
 " 'What Shepherd?' 
 
 " ' I mean the Good Shepherd Jesus.' 
 
 " ' I do not know what you say. When 
 my father was alive, he was a woodman 
 under the old squire, and I had clothes, 
 and my mother was there, and once I 
 went to the church with her, a long time 
 ago. I saw it then. A Man with a lamb 
 on His shoulder.' " 
 
 " It would be like the picture in the 
 window in this church, I suppose ?" said 
 Miss Nancy. 
 
 "Yes," replied the rector; "no doubt 
 it would be like that. ' And you have 
 remembered it so long ? ' said the young 
 squire. ' How clever you must be ! 
 Now, I am not clever at all. If only you 
 might learn reading, and writing, and 
 Latin in my place ! But I know what I
 
 126 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 shall do, I shall bring the priest here to 
 look at your carving. If you will be here 
 to-morrow, I will bring you a new knife.' 
 
 " The squire kept his word ; he brought 
 the knife in one hand, and dragged the 
 fewest with the other. The boy, too, was 
 there; and the grave young priest took 
 the carved figure in his hands, and looked 
 at it, and was silent for a long time. 
 
 " ' My boy,' he said at last, and he 
 spoke in a very gentle voice, ' my boy, 
 do you know the old carpenter who lives 
 near the church? ' 
 
 " ' Him who buys the squire's trees, and 
 makes things of wood? ' said the boy. 
 
 "'Yes, the old carpenter. You shall go 
 to him, and learn his craft; for God who 
 gave you those hands to work with never 
 meant you to be only a vagabond on the 
 face of the earth ; surely He designed 
 you to be something better.'
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 127 
 
 " The old man saw another picture. The 
 ragged boy presented himself one morn- 
 ing at the old carpenter's door, with his 
 ragged tunic, and bare head and feet; if 
 it had cost him anything to leave the 
 forest and his freedom, he never told it. 
 
 " But now began a new life for him. He 
 learnt more quickly than the old car- 
 penter could teach ; it seemed as if he 
 knew the natures of the dead woods by 
 instinct, as he had known the living trees 
 in the forest. 
 
 " ' But now you must put aside those 
 carved toys that are always in your 
 fingers,' grumbled the old carpenter; 
 ' you will never make a good workman if 
 you waste your time over them.' But he 
 was very kind to the boy nevertheless, and 
 he learned to love him very dearly, for his 
 own children were all dead. They went 
 to church together, and the boy sat and
 
 128 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 looked up with his deep bright eyes at the 
 beams of the roof, and at the pillars, and 
 arches, and the pale pictures in the 
 windows. 
 
 " The young squire was his fast friend, 
 until he went away from the village ; but 
 the priest did not go away, and it was he 
 who taught him to read and write, and 
 taught him the catechism and the Psalms, 
 and indeed taught him many things ; but 
 he did not need to teach him the 
 knowledge that comes of the seeing eye, 
 and the reverence that comes of a believ- 
 ing heart, for he had learnt those things 
 in the school of the forest, and his 
 teacher had been none other than God 
 himself. 
 
 " The old man saw another picture. The 
 young squire had come home ; they said 
 he was to be married. He came to see 
 the boy, for he had never forgotten him ;
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 129 
 
 and he walked with the priest through the 
 meadows. It was evening, and the old 
 carpenter sat at his door. 
 
 " ' He has finished his work,' he said. 
 " He has gone up to the little room in the 
 gable, for he is often there, but why, I 
 cannot tell. Let us go up and find him.' 
 
 " They went upstairs to the little room ; 
 they pushed open the door and went in. 
 The boy was a boy no longer, but a tall 
 young man ; he was standing up to stretch 
 his arms, and the light shone full on his 
 face, the same face as of old, with marvel- 
 lous deep eyes, and earnest lips which 
 nevertheless smiled. His chisel was in 
 his hand, and his work before him, a 
 panel of English oak, traced over with a 
 wonderful fret of leaves and flowers, a 
 part carved in relief, and the rest still 
 drawn in charcoal. His tools lay on a 
 stool beside him, very few and simple, for
 
 130 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 the power was in his own hands, not in 
 the tools they held ; the wall before him 
 was covered with his designs, drawn in 
 charcoal, after his only teaching, which he 
 had found in the school of the forest. 
 But there was love, and patience, and 
 reverence in every line, drawn again and 
 again, and yet again, until the artist hand 
 could execute what the faithful eye could 
 see. 
 
 " ' It is wonderful ! ' said the priest. 
 
 " ' It is most beautiful ! ' said the squire, 
 for he thought that the priest spoke of the 
 work. ' You were born a great carver, 
 and now you shall go to London and 
 work there.' 
 
 " ' Yes, you shall go to London,' said 
 the priest. 
 
 " But the carver looked at the old car- 
 penter, and his eyes fell. And there was 
 a long silence, until at last the old man
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 13! 
 
 said, in a broken voice, ' Yes, you shall 
 go. You shall go.' 
 
 " The old man saw another picture. The 
 young carver was setting out from the 
 door, with his little bundle over his shoul- 
 der. The old carpenter blessed him, and 
 let him go, without a word to stay him ; 
 but whenever the young man turned 
 round, the old one was still looking after 
 him, until at last he went over the brow of 
 the hill. And then the old carpenter 
 turned away sadly. ' How could I stay 
 him? He, too, is gone,' he said; and he 
 went into his house and shut the door. 
 
 " But after it was dusk in the evening, 
 there came a gentle knocking at the door, 
 and when he opened it, the carver stood 
 upon the threshold. 
 
 " ' Master, I have returned,' he said. 
 
 " ' To stay yet another night, dear son ? ' 
 said the old man, trembling.
 
 132 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 " ' Even to the end/ said he. 
 
 " ' My son? ' said the old man, trembling 
 more. 
 
 " ' I am resolved/ he answered, and his 
 face against the sky was very pale. 
 
 " ' God reward you, my son ! ' replied the 
 old man, weeping, ' seeing that I never can.' 
 
 " He only bowed his head, and said with- 
 in himself, ' Nay rather, God give me 
 grace still to thank him/ 
 
 " He said to the squire, ' He has given 
 me so much, that I may surely give back 
 to him, even if it be only giving up/ 
 
 "But that, my little maid, is a hard thing 
 to give, yes, the hardest of all. And 
 doubtless the priest knew it, for he only 
 said, ' It is by the grace of God/ " 
 
 " I love him for coming back," said 
 Miss Nancy, sadly ; " but I wish he might 
 have gone to be a great carver. It wasn't 
 a wrong thing to want, was it? "
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 133 
 
 " No, it was not wrong, my little maid. 
 It was good to desire it, but to so give it 
 up was far, far better. And that picture 
 stayed a long time before the old man's 
 eyes, and he dreamed over it. He saw 
 the carver go up to the room in the gable, 
 and look at his work, and turn its face to 
 the wall, and go out again. He saw him 
 toiling day by day in the workroom 
 below, for now it was he who supported 
 the old carpenter ; and he thought of him 
 always there in the same place, until ten 
 long years were past. Until one evening 
 the old carpenter said, ' Now you shall 
 soon have your release. Come and let 
 me bless you, good son.' And in that 
 night the old carpenter died. . . . 
 
 " The old man saw another picture. Now 
 the carver was setting out at last to seek 
 his fortune in earnest. And the old man 
 saw that the priest and the squire walked
 
 134 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 with him to the highway, and bade him fare- 
 well, and stood to watch him until he had 
 gone over the brow of the hill, but he 
 did not hear what they said. ' God bless 
 him ! ' said the squire. ' If he had gone 
 ten years ago, he might have been a great 
 man.' 
 
 "' He will yet be a great man,' said the 
 priest, and mused. ' Perchance in God's 
 sight he is already great.' 
 
 " And they went home, and thought of 
 him when the evening fell. But sunrise 
 came, and sunset, and moon followed 
 moon, and summer and winter went by, 
 and so the years passed. 
 
 " But the old man saw the carver go out 
 into the world to seek his fortune, and saw 
 him find it, for it was to work with all his 
 heart, as a man should work ; and he went 
 here and there, and many things befell 
 him."
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 135 
 
 " And did he come to be a great 
 carver?" said Miss Nancy. 
 
 " He did, my little maid, though suc- 
 cess, as we account it, only came to him 
 late in life ; and men said he had begun 
 too late. Not so ; he had waited for 
 God's time with a noble patience. Did 
 he value the success when it did come, 
 as he would have done when he was 
 young? Ah, that I cannot tell ; but in his 
 day he was a carver, as some say, never 
 equalled, and as all say, never surpassed, 
 though perhaps it was only after his death 
 that men came fully to this understand- 
 ing. And at last he would stay no longer 
 to work in cities, for he had through all 
 this latter part of his life an exceeding 
 great longing to see the green forest once 
 more, and, if it might be, to lie down un- 
 der the shadow of the church." 
 
 " He must have grown old, I suppose?"
 
 136 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 said Miss Nancy, wistfully. " But generally 
 in tales the people who seek their fortune 
 find it before they grow old." 
 
 " Yes, he had grown old," said the 
 rector. " That is, as we count years. 
 But one is fashioned after this manner, 
 and another after that, and thanks be to 
 the good Fashioner of all, there are some 
 who never grow old. And so at last the 
 carver set his face homeward along the 
 old highway, and began to bring his ad- 
 ventures to an end. . . . 
 
 41 The old man saw another picture. He 
 saw the carver walking with the old priest 
 and the squire through the long grass of 
 the meadows to the house by the church. 
 They found only a habitation for owls and 
 bats ; but the carver bought the house and 
 rebuilt it. He went up to the room in 
 the gable, and found the half-finished 
 panel, gray with dust and cobwebs, still
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 137 
 
 turned with its face to the wall, as he had 
 left it so many years ago. He said, 'This 
 was begun at the entering of my life, for 
 the love of the beautiful earth beneath ; it 
 shall be finished at the close, for the love 
 of the fairer heaven above.' 
 
 " And so he began the famous twelve 
 apostle panels, as all men said, his best 
 work, and, as he said, his dearest. It was 
 also his last ; for the time began to draw 
 near when he should bring his steadfast 
 life to a good ending. 
 
 " And so the old carver awoke from his 
 dreams, and thought upon his life, and 
 gave God thanks for it. 
 
 " A shadow fell through the doorway. 
 It was the aged priest and the squire, who 
 came to sit with him, as they so often did 
 in the evening. 
 
 "'Is the work finished?' said the 
 priest.
 
 138 MASTER BARTLEMY; OK, 
 
 "'Almost,' he answered ; 'this evening 
 it will be finished.' 
 
 " And so the three old men sat at the 
 open window, and talked of what had been 
 in the old time, and of what might be 
 when time should be no more. And sud- 
 denly the carver raised his head from his 
 work, and said, ' I go first. Last night I 
 dreamed of a fair stream.' 
 
 " And they were silent, knowing that to 
 dream of a fair stream is a sign of coming 
 death. 
 
 " The priest said, ' Was that a happy 
 dream? ' 
 
 " The carver answered, ' I walked upon 
 the brink of the stream, a stream all 
 peaceful, flowing full between green reeds- 
 And once more I was a child again ; and 
 I beheld the Good Shepherd, even as I 
 thought of Him when I was a child, com- 
 ing through the lilies in the grass, with
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 139 
 
 little children, as it were lambs, gathered 
 about Him. He said, " Thou hast learned 
 a while in My school. My child, now see 
 the end of thy learning," and I awoke. 
 It was a blessed dream.' 
 
 " ' Only may this work be first finished,' 
 said the priest. 
 
 " ' It is finished even now,' he said ; and 
 he laid down his tools for the last time. 
 
 " It lay complete before them, twelve 
 panels of oak, wrought as men had never 
 seen the like in all the countryside, for 
 that great master had spent upon them all 
 the gathered skill, and patience, and love 
 of a lifetime. Upon each panel the figure 
 of a holy apostle ; and round about a fret of 
 leaves and flowers, as it were for beauty ; 
 and at the foot of each panel a border of 
 corn, for service ; and above each an angel's 
 head with wings, for praise, and in his hands 
 a palm for victory ; and humbly wrought
 
 140 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 in a hidden corner the sign of the carver's 
 own hand, a heart, as it were for thanks- 
 giving. 
 
 " ' It is finished,' he said. ' I have not 
 achieved the half I had designed to do ; 
 but He who has deigned to have need of 
 my work, will also call me there, where, 
 having here learned awhile, I may in 
 fuller knowledge make an end.' 
 
 " And he looked up and smiled. 
 
 " They said it was granted to him then 
 to see a vision. It might have been that 
 the eyes which had not failed to discern 
 the beauty of God as it is on earth were 
 opened then to behold it as it is where 
 we all would be at the last; I cannot tell, 
 only after a moment he covered his face 
 with his hands. 
 
 " ' My God, I thank thee,' he said, and 
 laid his head down upon his work, and 
 died."
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 141 
 
 " I think it is a little sorrowful," said 
 Miss Nancy ; " but perhaps it is more 
 happier than more sorrowfuller. And is 
 that quite all?" 
 
 " There is little more," said the rec- 
 tor. 
 
 " The old priest who loved him so 
 much wrote about his life ; and he said 
 that he and the squire knew not whether 
 they had more grief or joy for his 
 end." 
 
 " And does the story tell what they did 
 after it?" 
 
 " A little more," said the rector again. 
 
 " He had prayed them to let him lie 
 very near the church, for he had loved 
 that little church in the shadow of the 
 green forest most of any place on earth. 
 So they buried him there, not without 
 the walls, but within, for the priest said, 
 he was the best of all men he ever knew ;
 
 142 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 and the squire set a beautiful figure of 
 the carver there upon the tomb in the 
 church, that it should be well seen how he 
 had worshipped God in life, and now wor- 
 shipped him yet more worthily after 
 death." 
 
 " And is that quite, quite all? " 
 "Almost, my little maid," answered the 
 rector, slowly. " He had disposed of all 
 that he had, as men dispose before they 
 die ; and they read what he had written. 
 He gave to his friends, the priest and 
 the squire, what keepsakes they might 
 choose, in memory of the love he bore 
 them. . . . He gave the twelve 
 apostle panels, his last and dearest work, 
 to the church he had loved so well. 
 He gave his house and his 
 goods to God's poor forever. 
 And as he humbly prayed God to re- 
 ceive, though so unworthy of his merciful
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 143 
 
 receiving, all that now was left to him, 
 his thankful heart." 
 
 " Yes, I know," whispered Miss 
 Nancy, "I know. It was Master Bart- 
 lemy."
 
 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 JT was a hard winter, the hardest in the 
 memory of Grandfy Purcell, the oldest 
 inhabitant of Forest Morton parish. The 
 frost had set in before Christmas, and 
 though the New Year had long since 
 come, it still bit the harder, in defiance of 
 all old saws. 
 
 The world and the weather both were 
 gloomy faces for Miss Nancy. Aunt 
 Norreys had gone to pay a solemn visit, 
 " to the Lester Norreys, my dear," and 
 had insisted upon the reluctant squire 
 going also. A regency had been formed 
 at the hall, with Mrs. Plummett at the
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 145 
 
 head of the household, Trimmer being 
 always at the head of the brown parlor ; 
 and Miss Nancy had been put upon her 
 honor as regarded her behavior. 
 
 She looked upon this separation from 
 daddy in a very serious light, and since 
 his departure she had conducted herself in 
 a correspondingly serious manner; but 
 life must be lived even after partings, and 
 Miss Nancy had never forgotten that her 
 behavior was to be based on the grounds 
 of honor. But the days passed very 
 slowly, and Trimmer did not feel sure that 
 she did not flag more as time went on, 
 instead of less. 
 
 It was indeed a hard winter. All after- 
 noon from the window of the brown par- 
 lor Miss Nancy watched the snow falling, 
 until there was a white mantle over the 
 Hall fields, and a deep drift blown under 
 the elm-trees. The rooks, with melan-
 
 146 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 choly cawings, had early retired to rest, 
 before the red sun had set, and the moon 
 had risen over the hawthorn copse ; at 
 which point Trimmer had insisted on the 
 curtains being drawn, and Miss Nancy 
 coming to tea. 
 
 Miss Nancy and Trimmer sat at tea, 
 one at each end of the spindle-legged 
 table with round leaves, Trimmer mellow- 
 ing over her second cup of tea, and Miss 
 Nancy plodding through her bread and 
 butter with perhaps more conscientious- 
 ness than enjoyment, very good, as she 
 had been throughout the regency, but 
 also very quiet. 
 
 " Why, Miss Nancy, you have not 
 finished your tea yet," said Trimmer 
 looking up at last. 
 
 " I think I do not want this tea much," 
 said Miss Nancy, laying down a horned 
 moon of bread and butter. " I feel
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 147 
 
 very sorrowful with dear daddy being 
 away." 
 
 " Well, he will soon be home now. 
 Finish your tea, Miss Nancy." 
 
 Miss Nancy picked up her crescent 
 sadly, regarded it with but small interest, 
 and took a slow bite. 
 
 " And make haste," said Trimmer ; 
 " see what a long time you have been." 
 
 " I think I do not want it at all, Trim- 
 mer," said Miss Nancy, laying it down 
 again. 
 
 " Oh, the idea ! " said Trimmer, simu- 
 lating an incredulous astonishment, Miss 
 Nancy's appetite being a small thing at 
 the best, and a diminution of it a point 
 to be elaborately ignored. " Miss Nancy, 
 eat it up directly ! " 
 
 Thus adjured, Miss Nancy at last dis- 
 posed of it ; and grace having been said, 
 Trimmer betook herself to her knitting,
 
 148 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 and Miss Nancy to that one of the stern 
 wooden chairs which seemed the most 
 yielding, and established herself at the 
 spindle-legged table with "Original Tales 
 of a Moral Tendency for Young Ladies 
 and Gentlemen." The firelight lit up the 
 formal old room, and cast a friendly 
 glance upon the brown walls, and touched 
 the polished chairs here and there, and 
 warmed the brass balls of the clock 
 into a silver glow. The clock wheezed 
 and the fire crackled, the gray cat snored 
 on the hearth and the wind moaned in 
 the elms outside, but Miss Nancy was 
 very still. In point of fact, when Trim- 
 mer looked at her, her head was laid 
 down on the tales of moral tendency, and 
 her eyes were closed. 
 
 " Miss Nancy, what are you doing to fall 
 asleep over your reading ? " said Trimmer. 
 " Bed is the place for going to sleep."
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 149 
 
 "I want to go to sleep here just here," 
 said Miss Nancy, with feeble dignity, her 
 eyes opening and closing again. 
 
 " Oh, but that is quite impossible," said 
 Trimmer, briskly. " You will have a 
 headache, Miss Nancy, so sit up." 
 
 Miss Nancy raised her head, and rested 
 it on her hand ; the firelight fell on her 
 face, and Trimmer looked at it over her 
 knitting. " Miss Nancy," she said pres- 
 ently, laying down her work, " do you 
 think you would like to go to bed? " 
 
 Miss Nancy nodded wearily. 
 
 " Because you may, if you like," said 
 Trimmer, without a sign of surprise at Miss 
 Nancy's ready assent ; " you may come 
 with me now." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Nancy, but did not 
 move. 
 
 So Trimmer carried her. Miss Nancy 
 made no resistance ; her head fell down
 
 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 on Trimmer's shoulder as if it were so 
 heavy that she could hold it up no longer. 
 Nor could she hold it up even while she 
 was being undressed ; it seemed to her as 
 if she fell asleep three distinct times, and 
 had three distinct long sleeps during that 
 operation. But she was put to bed at 
 last, and tucked in ; and Trimmer sat down 
 behind the curtain, with a candle and her 
 knitting, just as if, Miss Nancy thought, 
 she were having a sore throat. 
 
 And then she fell asleep, and slept very 
 heavily ; and when she woke, it was very 
 early in the morning, and she was having 
 a sore throat in good earnest. 
 
 " Trimmer, it is sore, very, very sore," 
 she whispered. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Nancy, I thought it might 
 be going to be," said Trimmer, from the 
 hearth, and it did not occur to Miss 
 Nancy to wonder what she was doing
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 151 
 
 there at that time of day, or rather 
 night. 
 
 " I never felt it like this before. Oh, 
 Trimmer, do you think it will be worse ? " 
 
 " Don't talk, Miss Nancy, and I will get 
 you something to drink." 
 
 " But, oh, Trimmer," said Miss Nancy, 
 clasping her hot fingers, "suppose it 
 should grow worse and worse while 
 daddy is away." 
 
 " I think it will be all right, Miss 
 Nancy," said Trimmer, steadily. " I am 
 seeing after you. And your papa and 
 your Aunt Norreys will be coming home 
 in a few days." 
 
 Then after an hour or two, when it was 
 still quite early in the morning, the old 
 doctor came from St. Edmunds' to look at 
 Miss Nancy; and she wondered confus- 
 edly if he had come just as it were by 
 chance, or whether Trimmer had sent for
 
 152 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 him, in which case Miss Nancy believed 
 that she must be quite ill. 
 
 After he was gone she lay and tossed 
 from side to side, and fell asleep again, 
 and dozed fitfully all day, and between 
 the dozes started up with her eyes bright 
 and her hands burning. 
 
 " Never mind it, Miss Nancy, my dear," 
 said Trimmer, sitting always by the bed 
 as if she had never moved away. " It is 
 only a bad dream you have been hav- 
 ing." 
 
 " I have been so afraid," said Miss 
 Nancy, hoarsely. " Oh, Trimmer, has 
 daddy come home?" 
 
 "Not yet, Miss Nancy; I am expecting 
 him soon," said Trimmer, with as much 
 composure as if she and Mrs. Plummett 
 had not sent an urgent message to the 
 squire and Aunt Norreys as soon as the 
 doctor had been.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 '53 
 
 " I wish he would come ! " gasped Miss 
 Nancy. 
 
 " And, oh, my dear, so do I ! " thought 
 Trimmer. 
 
 Miss Nancy dozed again, and gradually 
 evening drew on ; she believed that the 
 doctor came then, but she did not feel 
 sure of it. She also believed that he came 
 again some time after she had watched the 
 first pale streaks of the gray morning ap- 
 pearing behind the elms, after that long, 
 unquiet fevered night; but she could 
 not feel sure of that either, for her mind 
 was in a very hazy condition. The morn- 
 ing dragged itself by, and Miss Nancy 
 lay and slept, and moaned a little in her 
 sleep, and before noon Trimmer and Mrs. 
 Plummett had despatched a second mes- 
 senger ; for by this time they had come to 
 such a frame of mind that they would 
 almost have forfeited everything they had
 
 154 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 in the world to have the squire and Aunt 
 Norreys at home. 
 
 But Miss Nancy lay and knew nothing 
 of all this uneasiness on her behalf. She 
 asked for daddy many times, in a hoarse, 
 gasping whisper ; Trimmer always told 
 her that he was coming. But the after- 
 noon passed, and the evening fell, and 
 darkness came, and it was not until far 
 into the night that Mrs. Plummett, strain- 
 ing her ears miserably at the head of the 
 stairs, burst into tears of thankfulness, as 
 Bailey, stiff with waiting, opened the door 
 to see lights twinkling through the bare 
 thorn-trees, as the carriage dashed up the 
 drive. But this haste made no difference 
 at all to Miss Nancy, for when the squire 
 and Aunt Norreys came, she did not know 
 them. 
 
 For Miss Nancy was having dreams, a 
 great many of them. It seemed to her to
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 155 
 
 be one long night, the longest she had 
 ever known. Sometimes she thought she 
 was awake, and was very ill ; but this was 
 a fancy that came and went. The world 
 floated hither and thither, and left Miss 
 Nancy drifting forlornly by herself; but 
 one thing always remained, and that was a 
 sore throat. How long it was dark round 
 her bed she did not know, but she 
 dreamed some very curious things. She 
 dreamed not only about the old doctor 
 from St. Edmunds', but about the other 
 doctor from Carchester, and then about a 
 gentleman whom she did not know. 
 
 She dreamed fitfully about the old 
 friends when her sleep was not so deep 
 that she was unconscious of anything. 
 Trimmer seemed to be always there, and 
 her face was quite white, all but a line 
 under her eyes, and that was purple ; and 
 Miss Nancy dimly wondered at it, not
 
 156 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 knowing that the nursing of little Miss 
 Throgmorton would be told in honor of 
 Trimmer the stern as long as she lived. 
 She dreamed of Aunt Norreys being by 
 the bed ; and once when she sat there, 
 Miss Nancy was almost sure that she was 
 crying, and she wondered at that too, not 
 knowing that the great London doctor 
 believed that little Miss Throgmorton was 
 dying. 
 
 Daddy was often, often there, standing 
 at the foot of the bed, silently, with 
 mournful eyes ; and this was the most 
 troubled dream of all. And when he was 
 not there, he was sitting, though Miss 
 Nancy did not know it, in his justice-room 
 downstairs, silent and alone, hour after 
 hour, except when the rector came to be 
 with him. 
 
 Nor did Miss Nancy know that in those 
 hours of her night when the great London
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 '57 
 
 doctor believed that she was dying, the 
 squire and the rector sat side by side in 
 the room below, looking dumbly at a 
 pitiful scrawl on the table before them, 
 written on a leaf of a copy-book, and 
 folded across and found tidily laid by in 
 the cupboard of the brown parlor. For 
 this was poor little Miss Nancy's will, in 
 which (struggling with infinite difficulties 
 of spelling and penmanship) she had 
 endeavored to make a disposition of all 
 that she had, as men do before they die. 
 And so she had devised the best thing 
 she had got to dear daddy, " because 
 of loveing him most;" and Keep Sakes 
 to Aunt Norreys, and the rector, and 
 Trimmer, and Mrs. Plummett, and all the 
 servants. And Miss Nancy wished ex- 
 tremely much that she had some Goods 
 that might have been devised unto God's 
 poor forever, but was " afrade " that she
 
 158 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 had not got Any Thing. For she had not 
 even got what she wanted to have most of 
 all ; but she was trying to have it, and 
 would go on trying more and more, until 
 at last she would be able, even in the 
 things that were hard, to have the thank- 
 ful heart. 
 
 And the rector and the squire sat silent 
 for a long, long time ; until the rector 
 rested his face upon his hands, and said in 
 a low voice, " Open our eyes, O Lord, 
 that we may see ! Not alone in our joys 
 even in the things that are hard, give 
 unto us also that thankful heart." 
 
 But upstairs the long night went on, 
 and the dreams, too, went on and on ; un- 
 til at last there came one quite different 
 from all the others. 
 
 It was a dream of a half-open window, 
 of clouds fleeting over the blue sky, of a 
 soft spring wind, of a sound of lambs
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 
 
 '59 
 
 bleating faintly on the uplands, of the 
 rooks cawing to each other, of the birds 
 on the elm-tree tops, of a world that was 
 new. 
 
 And with that, Miss Nancy awoke ; and 
 perceiving that her dreams were over, 
 naturally concluded that the long night 
 was also over, and the morning was 
 come ; and looking round with a faint, 
 strange interest, she said feebly, but quite 
 clearly, and with excessive politeness, 
 " Good-morning, Trimmer." 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Nancy," replied 
 Trimmer soberly, it being four o'clock in 
 the afternoon ; but quite unaware of any 
 discrepancy, Miss Nancy acknowledged the 
 response with a smile of weak affability. 
 On which poor Trimmer the stern, who 
 had hitherto refused to permit herself to 
 give way for one single moment, went 
 quickly out to call Aunt Norreys, and
 
 160 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 retiring to Mrs. Plummett's room, sat 
 down on the nearest chair, and went into 
 hysterics. 
 
 But Miss Nancy presently fell asleep in 
 much tranquillity, and slept very soundly 
 for a long time ; and by and by she had 
 the most singular dream of all. For she 
 dreamed that the squire was in the 
 room, and he was kneeling at the foot 
 of the bed, as if he were saying his 
 prayers, which was surely a very curious 
 thing to fancy in her room. In her dream 
 the door was a little open, and there came 
 a footstep falling softly down the passage, 
 and suddenly the rector was standing out- 
 side the door. And then dear daddy 
 rose to his feet and looked at the rec- 
 tor, and the rector tried to speak, and 
 could say nothing, and so dear daddy 
 spoke. 
 
 " John Throgmorton desires to give
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 161 
 
 thanks for great mercies vouchsafed to 
 him." . . . 
 
 And so Miss Nancy's waking dream 
 passed into a sleeping, and she thought 
 she was in church, and the rector was 
 praying, and every one was giving thanks 
 with him. And behold, Master Bartlemy 
 was kneeling under the sunny window, 
 with his hands crossed on his breast and 
 his face looking upward ; and he prayed, 
 and Miss Nancy heard him. 
 
 " And we beseech Thee, give us that 
 due sense of all Thy mercies, that our 
 hearts may be unfeignedly thankful, and 
 we show forth Thy praise, not only with 
 our lips, but in our lives; by giving up 
 ourselves to Thy service, and by walking 
 before Thee in holiness and righteousness 
 all our days ; through Jesus Christ our 
 Lord. Amen."
 
 162 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 IX. 
 
 J\A ISS NANCY was convalescent. To 
 be sure she did not quite recover 
 after a few days, as in the old manner of 
 having a sore throat ; for she had been so 
 ill on this occasion that it had been confi- 
 dently believed that she would never have 
 a sore throat again, or indeed pain of any 
 sort whatsoever. She was nursed for a 
 long time ; but thinking of what might have 
 been, her friends did not seem to mind the 
 nursing, as she feared now and then they 
 must do. Miss Nancy was herself much 
 affected by everybody's love and care ; 
 she could never have supposed that there
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 163 
 
 were so many people to think of her, 
 especially when she put her own" qualities 
 under a rigorous examination, and fully 
 acknowledged that she was not as beauti- 
 ful as mother, not as much to be loved as 
 dear daddy, not as saintly in life as the 
 rector, not as perfect in manners as Aunt 
 Norreys, not as tidy as Trimmer. 
 
 But now Miss Nancy was more than 
 convalescent; she was to be considered 
 quite well again. It was a soft, warm day 
 in spring, and Miss Nancy was about to 
 enjoy the air; indeed, to take her first 
 walk beyond the garden. Trimmer had 
 dressed her quite gently; she had not 
 once reproachfully accused her of having 
 grown, and yet, during her illness, Miss 
 Nancy undoubtedly had done so, and 
 she had not even told her to mind her 
 behavior. Miss Nancy thought of it 
 afterwards, perceiving an opportunity for
 
 X 64 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 taking a little license if she chose, but 
 continued to mind her behavior all the 
 same, because it did not seem quite hon- 
 orable to do otherwise, when Trimmer 
 had only forgotten to mention it. For 
 this was a very great occasion, one of the 
 greatest in Miss Nancy's life. She was 
 eleven years old to-day, and she was to 
 accompany the squire and the rector on a 
 most solemn and important walk, accord- 
 ing to a special request, preferred by her 
 on the excellent grounds of her birthday, 
 and granted on the spot. 
 
 They went slowly through the Hall 
 fields, Miss Nancy between her two tall 
 companions, with one thin little hand in 
 the squire's big palm, and the other full 
 of primroses, that the rector plucked from 
 amongst the grass, and gave to her for a 
 birthday nosegay. 
 
 So they went through the churchyard.
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 165 
 
 up the forgotten little lane, and along the 
 pathway in the buttercup meadow to the 
 courtyard of the Thankful Heart. The 
 pigeons fluttered and strutted in the sun, 
 and the water rippled in the basin as of 
 old ; but Miss Nancy stood and looked up 
 at the words cut in the oak beam over the 
 doorway : 
 
 " In the Yeare of Our Lorde 
 
 "Given unto God's Poore for ever in Token of the 
 Thankful Heart. Amen." 
 
 And beneath, another hand had carved 
 new words : 
 
 " In the Year of Our Lord 
 
 "John Throgmorton endowed again this House, by 
 the blessing of God, and the Light of a Bright Ex- 
 ample, in Token of the Thankful Heart. Amen." 
 
 And behold, God's poor were come to 
 their own again, and sat on the benches in
 
 1 66 MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 the sunlight, and took their rest in the 
 peace of the Thankful Heart. And the 
 shepherd's wife, installed in the great 
 kitchen, stood in the doorway with the 
 children about her. There was Grandfy 
 Purcell, the oldest inhabitant of Forest 
 Morton parish, so old that he had, as he 
 said, " lost count of himself." There was 
 his neighbor, piping his still cheerful 
 note in its shaking treble, " It's old Sam- 
 u-el; and he's very much obliged to you," 
 while his head nodded and his withered 
 hands shook in rivalry. There was Jona- 
 than, with his dull strain, " I don't hear 
 you. I be stone deaf, I be." There was 
 old Betty, who had outlived her home, her 
 children, and all that she had, and only 
 cared now to gradually sleep herself away, 
 and so sat sleeping on, until she should be 
 rested, and ready to awake at the last. 
 There was witless Mary, who was sixty
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 167 
 
 years old, and yet was treated like a child 
 of six, on account of being quite simple ; 
 and yet was not unhappy, because she had 
 never passed beyond the days of her child- 
 hood, and in this life never would. There 
 was poor ailing Hannah, who was bowed 
 almost double with rheumatism, and would 
 be straight no more again, until, like the 
 lame man of old, she found herself outside 
 the Beautiful Gate. But until that hour 
 should come, she sat and took her rest, 
 with the others of God's poor, in the peace 
 of the Thankful Heart. 
 
 " And may we stay at the church a 
 moment? " asked Miss Nancy, as she went 
 homeward through the meadow, between 
 the squire and the rector. " Because I 
 have been thinking of Master Bartlemy a 
 good deal to-day, and I should like to give 
 him some of my primroses, if I might. 
 For I am so very glad about the Thankful
 
 1 68 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 Heart; I think I feel like he used to do, 
 full of happiness and thankfulness. Do 
 you, daddy? " 
 
 The squire did not speak, perhaps he 
 could not; he held Miss Nancy's hand 
 more closely. 
 
 " My little maid, we all have thankful 
 hearts this day," said the rector, and there 
 were, though Miss Nancy did not see 
 them, tears in his eyes. 
 
 They came to the wicket in the church- 
 yard wall. The birds flew out at their ap- 
 proach, and chattered what was perhaps a 
 welcome to little Miss Nancy; and they 
 went into the low green porch, and 
 through the dark church, to Master Bart- 
 lemy's window. The sweet wind from the 
 uplands stole in through the open lattice ; 
 and it might have been the spirit of spring 
 bringing Master Bartlemy a message from 
 the old forest, for he lay and smiled in
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 169 
 
 his sleep. And so Miss Nancy was lifted 
 up with her primroses, and left them lying 
 upon Master Bartlemy's bosom, with the 
 sunshine upon him, and upon his noble 
 handiwork round about him : the twelve 
 apostle panels upon the walls, wrought so 
 long ago, and still sound and true as Eng- 
 lish oak was wont to be, and beautiful with 
 the reverent labor of those cunning artist 
 fingers. 
 
 Upon each panel the figure of a holy 
 apostle ; and round about him the fret of 
 leaves and flowers, as it were for beauty; 
 and beneath each panel the border of the 
 garbs of a long life, for service ; and above, 
 the angel, for praise ; and in his hand the 
 palm, for victory; and humbly wrought in 
 a hidden corner, the sign of Master Bart- 
 lemy's own hand, the heart, as it were for 
 thanksgiving. 
 
 Miss Nancy stood with the squire and
 
 iy MASTER BARTLEMY; OR, 
 
 the rector at the door, lingering and look- 
 ing back. 
 
 " I was thinking that if people have for- 
 gotten that Master Bartlemy gave the 
 Thankful Heart, they would forget that 
 dear daddy endowed it again, and I was 
 sorry; but when I look at Master Bart- 
 lemy, I feel," said Miss Nancy, "I feel 
 as if it would not matter." 
 
 "No, it will not," said the rector, "for 
 the tablet that I think of will keep forever 
 the memory of this John Throgmorton, 
 who by the blessing of God, and the light 
 of a bright example, endowed again the 
 house of the Thankful Heart, for the ser- 
 vice of God's poor forever." 
 
 "Who by the blessing of God, and the 
 light of a bright example," repeated Miss 
 Nancy, lovingly. " It means dear Master 
 Bartlemy, doesn't it? " 
 
 " Not Master Bartlemy alone, my little
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART. 171 
 
 maid," said the rector, " not Master 
 Bartlemy alone." 
 
 " The light of all the good people who 
 ever lived?" asked Miss Nancy, wistfully. 
 " Do they all leave a light? " 
 
 " There never yet was such a light lost," 
 said the rector. " After so many years 
 Lord, how wonderful." 
 
 " The sun shines so beautifully about 
 Master Bartlemy now," whispered Miss 
 Nancy. " Don't you think it might be like 
 his light shining before men? " 
 
 " I think it might, my little maid," said 
 the rector, " shining before men to the 
 glory of God. And if so clearly here upon 
 this earth, how much more, O God, in thy 
 heaven." 
 
 And Miss Nancy looked out beyond the 
 churchyard trees, at the blue of the spring 
 sky, and the soft gray of the rolling up- 
 lands that had once been Morton Forest,
 
 1-J2 MASTER BARTLEMY ; OR, 
 
 and, beneath the green of the hanging 
 birchwood, the gables of the Thankful 
 Heart, where, in the courtyard, the 
 pigeons came down, and fluttered and 
 strutted for the very joy of life, and the 
 water rippled, " Give thanks, give thanks, 
 give thanks ! " And God's poor sat out in 
 the sunlight, waiting awhile, until friend 
 Death should come to ease them of the 
 burden of dulling poverty and long years, 
 in the quiet harbor of the Thankful Heart. 
 And Miss Nancy looked within again, 
 upon Master Bartlemy, where he lay upon 
 his tomb, and smiled, as one might smile 
 whose name has passed into a better keep- 
 ing than this of ours. Oh, thou gentle, 
 God-fearing, old craftsman, surely not for- 
 gotten, seeing thou wert gone to the place 
 where good men go when they die, to the 
 place where the memory of them abides, 
 and there is no forgetting. Oh, Master
 
 THE THANKFUL HEART, 
 
 '73 
 
 Bartlemy, lying there in ruff and gown, with 
 delicate artist hands crossed peacefully on 
 thy breast ; with thy sweet, refined face at 
 rest, and lips parted as if to give thanks 
 now and forever, well, well was it with 
 thee, having brought thy steadfast life to a 
 good ending, the steadfast life which 
 faithfully serves its generation, and the 
 good ending which leaves behind a light 
 to shine before men, to the everlasting 
 glory of God.
 
 UCSB LIBRARY