THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES'
 
 THI3 
 
 SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 
 ' There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing ; there la that raaketh himself 
 poor, yet hath great riches." SOLOMON. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY L. J. PRATT. 
 1861.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year I860, by 
 
 I*. J. PBATT, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 DAMRELL AND MOORE, PRINTERS AND BOOKBINDERS, 
 16 Devonshire Street.
 
 YOUTH OF OUR BELOVED COUNTRY, 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 $8 gjtbitateb. 
 
 89M29
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 CHAPTER L A DISCARDED PLAN . " ... . 1 
 
 " II. HOME CHARACTERS ... 11 
 
 " III. THE THREE WISHES . . . . 20 
 
 " IV. LILY 29 
 
 " V. LILY'S PARTY . . . . .33 
 
 " VI. DEPARTURE. SWEET ELLEN LEB . 47 
 
 " VII. SCHOOL-LIFE 55 
 
 " VIII. THE YOUNG COLLEGIAN ... 61 
 
 " IX. A SABBATH IN ELMWOOD . . .70 
 
 " X. CHARLES'S PICTURE ... 76 
 
 " XI. THE TRUE POET . . . .86 
 
 " XII. ALICE AND THE JUDGB . . . 92 
 
 " XIII. LIZZIE'S JEWELS . . . .99 
 
 " XIV. THE HUSKING V . . . 107 
 
 " XV. THE FADED FLOWER . . . .120 
 
 " XVI. UNHAPPINESS .... 129 
 
 " XVII. " LEAD us NOT INTO TEMPTATION " . 137 
 
 " XVIII. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS AT HOME . 146 
 
 ". XIX. A CLOUD IN THE SKY . . . 158 
 
 " XX. DARK PROSPECTS .... 173 
 
 XXI. AN OFFER . 183
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 CHAPTEH XXII. THE OLD HOMESTEAD . . 194 
 " XXIII. THE NEW ACQUAINTANCE. FEED'S RESOLVE 209 
 
 " XXIV. FASHIONABLE EDUCATION . . 219 
 
 " XXV. FOOD FOB THOUGHT . . . .230 
 
 " XXVI. Two CHRISTMAS SCENES . . 236 
 
 " XXVII. THE MAGIC HARP . . . .242 
 
 " XXVIII. A JOYFUL REVELATION . . - . 245 
 
 " XXIX. A HOPE FOR THE FUTURE . . .252 
 
 " XXX. FAREWELL .... 257 
 
 " XXXI. CONCLUSION . 265
 
 THE SHEAYES OF LOVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A DISCARDED PLAN. 
 
 " WHAT now, my fair cousin ! " exclaimed Fred 
 Whiting, as in no very gentlemanly manner he 
 rushed into his father's library. " I say, Alice., I 
 had no idea of finding you here. I thought wo 
 men's time was all taken up with that endless em 
 broidery and fancy work, though I never could see 
 any use or propriety in it. But, as I was going to 
 say, I thought father's library contained no works of 
 fiction. Why, bless me ! " and Fred's eyes grew 
 larger and brighter as he read "'Book of En 
 tertaining Knowledge.' Well, I declare, Alice," 
 he exclaimed, " if you aren't a perfect puzzle ! 
 Why I never, in my wildest moments, supposed 
 that woman's intellect was capable of grasping any 
 thing higher than fiction. Pray, what do you read 
 it for?" 
 
 Cousin Fred stopped a moment to take breath; 
 
 for these questions and observations had been poured 
 1
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 forth in a much less time than it has taken us to 
 record them. And, while Alice is trying to frame 
 an answer for them all, we also will ask one ques 
 tion. Who was Frederick Whiting ? 
 
 Frederick Whiting was the only son of William 
 Whiting, Esq., a wealthy merchant of New York. 
 He was one of the favored, or rather unfortunate, 
 children of wealth ; for his father's money and influ 
 ence, while it had procured him every advantage of 
 society and education, had also surrounded him with 
 a crowd of flatterers, who filled his mind with ideas 
 of his own personal importance and superiority. 
 
 Yet Fred Whiting, despite his faults, had an 
 unselfish, affectionate disposition, which a happy 
 home and judicious training would have strength 
 ened, and which, under proper influences, would 
 have rendered him a character estimable for all 
 good and moral qualities. But he found little sym 
 pathy in his family. All had different tastes, and he 
 sought elsewhere that society and enjoyment which 
 his own home should have afforded. 
 
 He was now seventeen years of age, and for two 
 years had been attending school, with a view to 
 enter college. He was at home, spending his Vaca 
 tion ; and with the boyish, fun-loving spirit of his 
 age, he had teased his mother, hectored his sisters, 
 and bothered the servants to the last point of endur 
 ance, and, as his mother said, " pestered the whole 
 household generally." Of his cousin, who was of
 
 A WISCABDED PLAN. 3 
 
 a quiet, studious temperament, he had taken but 
 little notice, save to rally her upon her " dark brown 
 studies," as he called them. But, upon the morning 
 in question, he had exhausted his ingenuity in ex 
 pedients for fun and frolic-making. It "was a foggy, 
 rainy morning in November; and his elder sister 
 had not yet arisen, knowing she should have no 
 callers in that weather ; his mother had taken refuge 
 in her room, under a severe fit of headache and of 
 ennui ; and his younger sister, of the age of Alice, 
 was visiting for the day at a young friend's. > He 
 had repaired to the kitchen : but John, the coach 
 man, had gone away some miles upon business ; and 
 the cook, a faithful old sable, who had served trie 
 family for many years^, said she " done wish young 
 massa 'd cl'ar out, and leab de kitchen to honest 
 folks as minded der own 'fairs." 
 
 In this dilemma he suddenly bethought himself 
 of Alice. "I'll hunt her up," thought he. But 
 no Alice was to be found. Every imaginable place 
 was ransacked ; dark holes and corners received the 
 benefit of his bright, prying eyes. And even clothes- 
 rooms and china-closets were opened, with no suc 
 cess ; for Fred would as soon have thought of look 
 ing into the stables for one of the family, as into his 
 father's library. 
 
 It was a grand old room, with heavy oaken wain 
 scots and panellings ; and its bay windows were 
 shaded with rich crimson curtains.
 
 4 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 As Fred impulsively threw open the door, he 
 started back as if half ashamed of intruding. There 
 sat Alice, her head resting upon her hand, and the 
 traces of tears still upon her cheeks. It was evi 
 dent that she had not expected to be disturbed, for 
 her book had slipped from her hand, and now rested 
 upon her lap. But she rose with a smile, and 
 seemed anxious to conceal her recent agitation. 
 
 It was wholly unnecessary ; for Fred had eyes 
 for nothing but fun. He picked up the book ; and 
 a glance at the title-page had 'so astonished him, as 
 to give rise to the loquacious young gentleman's 
 remarks at the opening of our story. 
 
 But Alice's thoughts were far back in the past. 
 She had been visiting, on that dull November morn 
 ing, the " green spots of her memory." She had 
 stood once more by the little brown cottage, beneath 
 the shadow of the maples, and heard her mother's 
 voice, and felt her hand upon her head in blessing, 
 as of old. But her cousin's voice had broken the 
 spell ; and his ' last question, " Pray, what do you 
 read it for ? " was still sounding in her ears. Her 
 cousin's sudden entrance, and her own sad thoughts, 
 made her nervously sensitive ; and, when she 
 looked up, her lip trembled, and her eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 " Now don't, cousin, for the world, go to crying, 
 for I do hate scenes ; " and Fred strutted conse 
 quentially around the room. "But, Alice, what it
 
 A DISCARDED PLAN. 5 
 
 the matter ? Are you really unhappy ? " said he, in. 
 an altered tone ; for, as we have already said, he had 
 an affectionate disposition. 
 
 " No, no, Fred ! not that : but I feel sad this 
 morning ; for I have been thinking about my own 
 dear old home, and my father and mother, and the 
 red school-house, where I used to go ; and, oh ! so 
 much- that used to be, and never can be again." 
 
 "Well, well, coz ! don't fret about it ! It's only 
 the weather that makes you feel so. Come, cheer 
 up ! You're a little too .blue at times, to be sure ; 
 but, for all that, I like you first rate, a deal better 
 than I do Ada and Liz." 
 
 Alice fixed her large dark eyes upon her cousin 
 beseechingly, " Don't, Fred, talk so about your 
 own sisters. I am sure they would not be cross if 
 you did not tease and worry them." 
 
 "I don't care! they deserve it all! Don't you 
 suppose I've seen how selfish they are ? I say it's 
 a mean shame ; and, while I'm at home, I'm going to 
 take your part, and be your knight-errant. That, 
 you know, is what they used to call the man who 
 protected the ladies in old times," said Fred, patron 
 izingly. 
 
 " Thank you, my dear cousin. You have always 
 been kind to me, and I love you for it ; but don't 
 let's talk dfoout this any more. I want to ask your 
 advice about something, an important project of 
 mine."
 
 6 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 Once more Fred's eyes were wide open with won 
 der ; but he said nothing, and Alice proceeded, 
 
 " I should have asked your mother about it ,- but 
 you know Aunt Emily seldom, talks much to me, 
 and somehow there don't seem to be any one who 
 will listen to me as you do. 
 
 " You know when Uncle took me away from my 
 old home, five years ago, I knew very little, only 
 the rudiments of reading, writing, arithmetic, and 
 a little grammar." 
 
 Fred wondered what was to come. 
 
 " Since that time I have never been to school. 
 But you, who have had all the advantages of educa 
 tion, cannot tell how I have longed for books and 
 knowledge. Encouraged by Uncle William's kind 
 ness, I was bold enough to ask him to let me come 
 here and read. He consented ; and from that hour 
 it has been my chief delight to occupy my leisure 
 moments in this manner, and to make up by dili 
 gent study for what I have lost." 
 
 " Well done, Alice ! " interrupted Fred. " I 
 should call that ' the pursuit of knowledge under 
 difficulties.' I think you're a model of thought and 
 industry. Here I've been at school two years, and 
 'twould puzzle a lawyer to find out what I've been 
 doing, except to spend money and waste my time ; 
 and all the time you've been wanting tft learn so 
 much ! How I wish you had had the instruction 
 that has been wasted on me ! "
 
 A DISCARDED PLAN. 7 
 
 " Thank you, Fred ; but you haven't heard my 
 plan yet." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I forgot. Pray proceed." 
 " But you won't laugh at what I'm going to say ? " 
 " No : I'll give you my word beforehand." 
 " Well, the other day as I was looking over the 
 books I took down one called f Anecdotes of Self- 
 made Men,' and I thought if the men it spoke of 
 there could undergo so many hardships and sacrifices 
 to acquire education, why could not I do something 
 towards educating myself. And so I thought, and 
 thought, and at last I hit upon a plan; but I'm 
 almost afraid to tell you now, for fear you will laugh 
 at it, or tell Aunt Emily, or do something else to 
 spoil it all." 
 
 " No, I won't. You must tell me now, for I've 
 got interested." 
 
 " Well, my plan is this : If Uncle William 
 would advance money sufficient to pay my tuition 
 until I am able to teach, I would then most cheer 
 fully return it, and then I would be fitted for use 
 fulness. What do you think of it." 
 
 Alice's eyes brightened with hope as she spoke. 
 Fred looked at her a moment, as if too much amazed 
 to speak. 
 
 " Why, Alice Morton, are you crazy ? What did 
 put such an idea into your head? It's well you 
 did not say any thing to mother about it. VV hy,
 
 8 THE SHEAVE8 OF LOVE. 
 
 Alice, do you suppose father "Would allow you 
 to become a teacher or governess, subject to peo 
 ple's caprices or whims ? Besides," said he, as he 
 noticed her look of disappointment, " father is able 
 to send you to school a century if he is a mind 
 to. I am going down to the office this very morn 
 ing, and will ask him about it, if you wish." 
 
 " But then it would not be like earning it my 
 self," said Alice, who could see no impropriety in 
 her discarded plan. 
 
 " I know it ; but then it would be a much easier 
 way." 
 
 " But what real harm would there be, should I do 
 so ? " persisted Alice. 
 
 " Why, not any that I know of, if your friends 
 were not able to do for you. Father is not nig 
 gardly, and will not suffer you to do such a thing. 
 But, suppose there was a necessity, and you should 
 do so, it would be a long time before you would be 
 able to pay for one year's tuition. It will be years 
 before you can command a salary ; and the majority 
 of female teachers rarely get over three hundred 
 dollars a year." 
 
 Alice's countenance fell with the castles she had 
 been building in the air. " But never mind," said 
 her sympathizing cousin, " I'll ask father about it. 
 He will arrange it right, I dare say." 
 
 So occupied had they been with their conversa-
 
 A DISCARDED PLAN. 9 
 
 tion, that they did not hear a quick step in the hall, 
 or notice that the door which Fred had left ajar had 
 been pushed slyly open, till a pair of angry blue 
 eyes were fixed upon them, and a loud voice ex 
 claimed, 
 
 " I should like to know, Alice Morton, how you 
 came in here. You have no business in father's 
 private room. He'd be very much displeased if he 
 knew it ! " 
 
 " Uncle William gave me permission," timidly 
 ventured Alice. 
 
 Here Fred interfered. <f It wouldn't hurt you, 
 I'm thinking, if you came here once in a while, 
 instead of wasting your time in bed. Besides Alice 
 did have permission. I heard father when he gave 
 it to her ; and I say she shall stay if she wants to." 
 
 " You don't know any thing about it, and it's none 
 of your business ! " retorted his sister. 
 
 " My dear sister," said Fred, with mock gravity, 
 "you remind me of the dog in the manger, who 
 would neither eat the hay himself nor allow any 
 body else to." 
 
 With a frowning brow and an angry toss of the 
 head, Lizzie retreated towards the hall, and passed 
 on to the breakfast-room. 
 
 As the door closed violently behind her, Alice 
 said, " Oh, Fred ! how could you ? It only makes 
 things worse ! I would much rather have gone out. 
 
 But did you really hear uncle say I might come 
 l*
 
 10 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 here ? He told me the other day, and I thought we 
 were all alone." 
 
 "No, I didn't hear him! I only told her so." 
 
 " But that was telling a lie." 
 
 " Oh, no ! it was the most harmless thing in the 
 world. Only the smallest kind of a white lie. I 
 did it on purpose to spite her. You know lying 
 is necessary in some cases." 
 
 " No ! I don't think so. We never should do 
 wrong, whatever good may come of it." 
 
 " But Liz is so obstinate and provoking ; and then 
 nobody expects me to be as good as you are. How 
 ever, I'm sorry I told a fib. Good-bye. I'm going 
 down to the office now." 
 
 " But you aren't going to ask Uncle "William about 
 that ? " said Alice. 
 
 " Yes, I am. And you'll go to school, and get to 
 be very wise or wonderful, and we shall all be proud 
 of you." 
 
 So saying, Fred bounded out of the room, and 
 Alice, with a sigh, put up her book, and went into 
 the breakfast-room, to endeavor to pacify the still 
 angry Lizzie.
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 HOME CHARACTERS. 
 
 ALICE MORTON was au orphan. For five yeara 
 she had not known a mother's care or affection, and 
 eight years had elapsed since she had climbed her 
 father's knee, or received his coveted kiss. . Stern 
 poverty and severe misfortunes had rendered her an 
 inmate of her uncle's family ; but she had never 
 been happy there, and she had now only the mem 
 ory of a home. But very pleasant was the memory 
 of that home far back in the past. In one of the 
 most beautiful spots in the valley of the Connecticut, 
 far removed from the great city of trade, where 
 the sun shines alike upon the dwellings of rich and 
 poor, and where the flowers have leave to grow, was 
 the peaceful cottage of Edward Morton, the carpen 
 ter. An honest but hard-working man was Edward 
 Morton ; and, as he went day by day to his simple 
 labor, he never dreamed of being ashamed that he 
 was a mechanic, but in the riches of his great heart 
 thanked God for the blessings of health, freedom:, 
 and abundance. 
 
 - But trials came to that humble roof. Work be 
 came scarce, wages were low, and bread dear ; and 
 for the first time poverty crossed the threshold of
 
 2 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 that quiet home. It was at this time that the dis 
 covery of gold in California made it the Eldorado 
 of the traveller and adventurer. The almost fabu 
 lous stories told concerning the beauty of its climate, 
 and the richness of its veins of gold, appealed strongly 
 to the imagination of Mr. Morton ; and he departed 
 for that distant clime, strong in the hope of the un 
 certain future, and followed by the prayers and 
 blessings of his wife and child. 
 
 But poverty is a hard task-master, and Mrs. Mor 
 ton was constitutionally delicate. For two years 
 there came to them letters filled with encouragement 
 and counsel, and with words breathing hopes " of 
 better days." Then came a long silence, and at 
 last vague reports of his death in a foreign land, 
 till at length her health sank beneath the added bur 
 den of labor and anxiety. 
 
 And was there no brother or sister or friend to 
 whom she could appeal in this her hour of extremi 
 ty ? Yes, she had one sister ; but time, circum 
 stance, and their own dispositions had rendered them 
 almost strangers. As the wealthy Mrs. Whiting, 
 how could she be expected to visit the low, vulgar 
 mechanic's wife, even if she were her own sister ? 
 So reason the rich. While Mrs. Morton, with that 
 high-souled independence which belongs to a sensi 
 tive nature, shrank from asking aid of her unnatural 
 relative. 
 
 Yet, as she felt herself descending into the " val-
 
 HOME CHARACTERS. 13 
 
 ley of the shadow," when she saw the troubled 
 waters of Jordan at her very feet, and thought of 
 her helpless orphan Alice, she was constrained to 
 make one last appeal. 
 
 Very great was Mrs. Whiting's consternation upon 
 the receipt of her sister's letter. If she refused her 
 child a home, society would condemn her ; and Mrs. 
 Whiting was a fashionable, heartless woman of the 
 world, and an utter slave to its opinion. But her 
 husband's more feeling heart had been touched. 
 Away down in the depths of that proud man's 
 heart, there were some healthful springs which the 
 hot breath of worldliness had not yet dried up ; the 
 rock had been touched, and the waters gushed 
 forth. And he mentally resolved that he would 
 bring the little orphan to his home, and love her as 
 his own. 
 
 Alice never forgot the deep, earnest tones of her 
 mother's voice, nor the soft pressure of her hand 
 upon her head, as she pronounced her dying blessing 
 upon her. And it may be pardoned Mr. Whiting 
 if a few soul-felt tears stole down his cheeks, when, 
 with all a mother's careful solicitude, she commended 
 Alice to his love, and prayed him to keep her " pure 
 and unspotted from the world." 
 
 But it is true that we are more or less influenced 
 by our surroundings ; and could that anxious mother 
 have known the unhealthy moral atmosphere her 
 child would breathe, and the hourly trials of temper
 
 14 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 to which she must be subjected, she might well 
 have trembled. For, oh! how different was the 
 home of the millionaire, with its luxury, pride, and 
 discontent, from the little brown cottage of the car 
 penter, which once echoed to the cheerful song of 
 labor, and to the words of thanksgiving and praise. 
 
 So thought Alice, as she sat in her uncle's ele 
 gant parlor, on that rainy November evening, just 
 five years from the time of her mother's death. 
 The heavy curtains had been drawn before the bay- 
 windows, the anthracite glowed cheerfully in the 
 grate. It was that dusky time, between daylight 
 and evening, when one loves to dream by the dancing 
 firelight ; and the members of Mr. Whiting's family 
 were enjoying it in their own peculiar way. 
 
 Alice, entirely hidden from view by the window- 
 curtains, had her face pressed close to the glass, and 
 was trying, by the uncertain light, to finish the page 
 she was reading, or anon glancing among the gath 
 ering shadows for the coming of her uncle ; for 
 Alice loved him with a sincere affection, and had 
 learned to watch eagerly for his returning foot 
 steps. 
 
 She had an interesting face, although one at first 
 sight would not call her beautiful. Her brow was 
 high and open, with a look of frankness. Her eyes 
 were a clear hazel, and her hair a wavy chestnut 
 color, which clustered in short ringlets around her 
 neck. Her features were clearly defined, and a nose,
 
 HOME CHARACTERS. 15 
 
 whose contour was decidedly Roman, gave a look 
 of much character to her face. Added to this, her 
 mouth was marked by lines, half of firmness, half 
 of sweetness, and was constantly changing in its 
 expression. Strangers always looked at her twice, 
 as if something new attracted them each time. 
 
 Before the fire, in a luxurious rocking-chair, sat 
 Mrs. Whiting, still a prey to the ennui of the morn 
 ing. An expression of fretfulness was upon her 
 face, which should have been lighted up with a smile 
 of contentment, for of all earthly comforts there 
 was not one she lacked. But 
 
 " Who can minister to a mind diseased ? " 
 
 With all her blessings, Mrs. Whiting believed her 
 self the victim of all sorts of evils. " No one sym 
 pathized with her feelings." Her husband seldom 
 sought her society. Her children were ungrateful, 
 her servants untrustworthy ; and she, as she de 
 clared herself, was " completely borne down by the 
 burden of domestic cares." 
 
 The fact was, Mrs. Whiting was eminently self 
 ish ; and, in her complaining moods, she seldom 
 thought that she made no eiforts to please her hus 
 band ; taught her children no principles of right 
 and duty, which should lead them to respect and 
 honor her ; and seldom vouchsafed a kind word to 
 her servants, to render them respectful and obe 
 dient.
 
 16 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 Upon this day, in particular, every thing had com 
 bined to try her patience and temper. The rain 
 had prevented a visit of a few of her " choice 
 friends ; " her head ached unmercifully ; and she 
 had been obliged to visit the kitchen twice, to hasten 
 the dilatory servants, and to enforce her orders. 
 
 " Fred," said she, as the servant who had lit the 
 gas retired, " has Ada returned yet ? " 
 
 " No, mamma ; and it's after seven. What can 
 be the reason ? " 
 
 " It's just as I supposed," answered Mrs. Whiting; 
 " that rascally coachman didn't go for her. He said 
 he should not. But I did not think he would dare 
 disobey, after what I said to him." 
 
 " But, mother, what could be the reason John did 
 not do as you bid him ? " asked Fred. 
 
 " Oh ! he had a nice long story about his father's 
 being sick, and he must needs go and see him this 
 very night. And, when I urged the necessity of 
 Miss Ada's coming home to-night, he answered, 
 that it was a case of life and death, he must go." 
 
 "Of course you did not urge him after that, 
 mother ! " 
 
 " Of course I should not, if it had been any trust 
 worthy person," answered his mother, with a little 
 secret complacency at seeing so readily into the 
 character of her servants, " of course not ; but then 
 one never knows when to believe these people. I 
 dare say there was some frolic he wanted to attend.
 
 HOME CHARACTERS. 17 
 
 And I told him he should certainly be discharged if 
 he dared disobey my commands." 
 
 Fred wisely forebore to say any thing ; but he 
 mentally resolved that he would plead John's case 
 with his father, if the worst should come to the 
 worst. 
 
 " Well, at any rate," he answered, " John has 
 not been ; for I've just come from the stable, and 
 the horses have not been out of their stalls this 
 afternoon ; so I will harness up the pony, and go in 
 the chaise after Ada." 
 
 Alice heard the words of her aunt with fear and 
 trembling, lest her threats should be carried into 
 execution. Of a sweet and winning temper, and 
 gifted with a large sympathy, she ever participated 
 in the sorrows of those around her. On this after 
 noon she had gone to the kitchen to give John his 
 customary lesson in reading, and to point out some 
 precious passages from the Bible, She had heard 
 the altercation between her aunt and him, and wit 
 nessed his anguish and despair when she refused his 
 request. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Alice ! " he groaned, " what shall I 
 do ? My father is just alive ! I must see him once 
 more, and I cannot lose my place." 
 
 " Poor John," said Alice, all her sympathies 
 speaking in her voice, "I am so sorry for you! 
 I will ask aunt to forgive you. Put your trust in
 
 18 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 God. He has promised to make all things work 
 together for good to them that love Him." 
 
 Many were the warnings given John by the ser 
 vants in case he should disobey. But filial love tri 
 umphed over self-interest, and he went. 
 
 Alice had become very much interested for him. 
 " How should I feel/' thought she, " if my father 
 were dying, and I could not perform for him the last 
 offices of love ? " But the task of Alice was harder 
 than she had thought. She had invented all sorts 
 of excuses for lingering in her aunt's room, fearing 
 to approach the subject. Never at any time feeling 
 free in her presence, now dreading her displeasure, 
 a wall of fear and coldness seemed suddenly to 
 have risen up between them. Several times she at 
 tempted to speak, but failed of utterance. The 
 evening found John's absence discovered, and her 
 appeal unmade. " I will wait till Uncle William 
 comes home," thought she, " and that will be better 
 still."
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 THE click of the night-lock was heard in the front 
 door, and with a few of Mr. Whiting's brisk steps 
 he had passed through the hall, and entered the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 " Ugh ! " he exclaimed, as he spread out his 
 hands before the fire, " they do say, wife, that this 
 is the most stormy November within the memory of 
 the oldest citizen. But come, Lizzie," he added, 
 " take your father's wet coat down to the kitchen, 
 and let it dry." 
 
 " I'll ring for Nctta, father ? " said Lizzie inquir 
 ingly, moving towards the bell rope. 
 
 "No, no, child ! " but, before Mr. Whiting could 
 finish, Alice sprang eagerly forward, 
 
 " O uncle ! let me. I would be so pleased to 
 go!" 
 
 As Alice's light footstep was heard departing on 
 her errand, the careworn father turned towards his 
 daughter with a sad smile, 
 
 " I thought you would like to do me this small 
 favor, my child." 
 
 But, father," said Lizzie deprecatingly, " I was 
 busy ; and besides it is so unpleasant to perform 
 such menial offices."
 
 THE THREE WISHES. 2 
 
 " It is never menial to minister to the happiness or 
 comfort of those we love," said Mr. Whiting. 
 
 It was not the fault of Lizzie's heart so much as 
 of her education, that she gave this unfeeling reply. 
 Her father felt this, and once more resolved within 
 himself that Alice and Ada should never receive a 
 fashionable education. The idea that her father 
 would have been pleased if she had shown him this 
 slight attention never seemed to enter her head ; but 
 she turned again to her worsted-work, slowly bring 
 ing out the tomb of Napoleon, under a very green 
 and very drooping willow. 
 
 But, besides Alice's natural kindliness of heart, 
 another thing prompted her to visit the kitchen. 
 She wanted to see her uncle alone, and thought this 
 would be a favorable opportunity for escaping from 
 the parlor. 
 
 Accordingly, when Mr. Whiting went down to 
 tea, he found his niece in the dining-room ready to 
 receive him. 
 
 "Well, little Miss Sobriety," said her uncle, 
 " what brought you here ? " 
 
 " I had something to tell you, Uncle William." 
 
 " So-ho ! you did ! and what may your august 
 pleasure be ? Come, I will be your good fairy, and 
 for the favor you did me will grant you any three 
 wishes you may make." 
 
 " Will you ? Are you really in earnest, Uncle 
 William ? " cried Alice in delight.
 
 %% THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " Take care, Alice ; no true fairy ever allows his 
 word to be doubted," said Mr. "Whiting with playful 
 dignity. " Yes, I will grant you any request wxthin 
 the scope of my magic." 
 
 Alice's first request was different from what her 
 uncle had expected. Fred had been as good as his 
 word, and told his father of Alice's hopes ancl pro 
 jects ; and he had thought that her first request 
 would be, that she might be sent to school. When, 
 therefore, with half-childish eloquence, she told the 
 story of poor John, and poured forth an appeal in 
 his behalf, her uncle looked at her in surprise and 
 admiration. 
 
 Alice's face was not one ytou would have called 
 beautiful in repose ; but when, as nowj the soul shone 
 through and irradiated it, it endowed her with that 
 higher beauty, the beauty of expression. 
 
 A tear stole down her cheek, and she looked at 
 her uncle beseechingly, as she said, " You'll forgive 
 John this time, wont you, dear uncle ? " 
 
 " It wouldn't do, I suppose, to resist such skilful 
 pleading. But why should you care about John ? 
 What worked your little heart up to such a pitch of 
 sympathy ? " 
 
 " Why you know, uncle, John is so clever, and 
 so grateful if any one does any thing for him ; and 
 he's pious too, he loves dearly to hear the Bible 
 read. And do you know I'm teaching him to read, 
 so that he can enjoy it all the time ? "
 
 THE THREE WISHES. 3 
 
 Mr. Whitiug's conscience smote him ; for he knew 
 that in his family the Bible, of all books, was least 
 read. But Alice continued, 
 
 " And another thing, uncle : you know we should 
 always be kind to the poor. And I couldn't help 
 loving John, and feeling sorry for him, as he sat 
 there so desolate, and his father dying not a stone's- 
 throw from the house." 
 
 " But how do you know it was so ? Perhaps John 
 made up that story to get off. How's that ? " 
 
 " No, no, Uncle William ! he told the truth. I 
 am sure of it, for I could see it in his eyes." 
 
 " Well, well, Puss ! You'll learn the ways of 
 the world soon enough. But what do you think 
 aunt would say to this ? " 
 
 " Would she be very much displeased, do you 
 think ? Oh, uncle ! I didn't tell John to go ; but I 
 pitied him very much, and I told him I would ask 
 Aunt Emily to forgive him. Was I very wrong ? 
 I meant to do right." 
 
 Mr. Whiting could not answer. More melting 
 than any pleading was this childish love and sympa 
 thy. Involuntarily he drew her closer, and realized 
 more and more how dear she had grown to him. 
 
 " But come, my dear," he said ; " let's have the 
 second wish. It's time you thought of yourself." 
 
 This time Mr. Whiting's expectations were fully 
 met. Alice acknowledged her longing for know 
 ledge ; her wish to go to school ; and her hope to
 
 24 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 become a teacher, that she mig%t make herself in 
 dependent of the world, and by the cultivation of 
 her talents render herself of active use to those 
 around her. 
 
 " You are right," he responded. " Nothing will 
 be of so much value to you. "Wealth weighs no 
 thing in the balance. He who is morally and intel 
 lectually great is the peer of kings ; and no man 
 shall say to him, ' I am greater than thou.' ' 
 
 " I know, my dear uncle," said Alice, " that you 
 have done every thing for me, fed and clothed me 
 all these long five years ; and I thought if I could be a 
 teacher I might repay you a part of your kindness." 
 
 t( Say no more, Alice ; you shall go. I had al 
 ready made arrangements to send you and Ada to 
 school, and you will commence early next month. 
 There, there ! " he added, as Alice covered his face 
 with kisses, " don't eat me up ! All I ask of you is, 
 that you will improve your time, and repay me by 
 your industry and good conduct." 
 
 Alice took her uncle's hand ; and, as they left the 
 dining-room, he said to her, 
 
 "But, my dear, you have forgotten your third 
 wish. What shall it be ? " 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, uncle," replied Alice hesita 
 tingly, "I don't know, unless it be that you and 
 Aunt Emily and my cousins would love me more ; 
 and that our Heavenly Father may bless you for 
 your goodness, and make me worthy of it."
 
 THE THREE WISHES. 25 
 
 There was an unusual moisture in Mr. Whiting's 
 eyes, and he patted Alice's shoulder approvingly. 
 
 " You are a good girl," he said, " and deserve to be 
 loved as you are. If you don't think of any thing 
 you would like to-night, you can wait till to-morrow, 
 and tell me then. Come, here we are at the door ; " 
 and he turned the knob, and entered the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 Mrs. Whiting half roused herself from her doze, 
 and asked her husband what had kept him so long. 
 
 Fred and Ada had returned. The evening it 
 seems found Fred with his appetite for fun in no 
 way diminished. He sat on a low stool behind 
 Lizzie's chair, slyly tying together the ends of her 
 balls of worsted, and watching for an opportunity to 
 fix a noose around her foot, knowing it would annoy 
 her in case she should rise. 
 
 Ada sat at the piano, idly thrumming away upon 
 the keys. Her mind was wholly occupied with 
 thoughts of Lily Cushing's farewell party, which 
 was to be given on the eve of her departure for 
 school. When Alice came in, she stopped playing, 
 and commenced talking to her. Alice was obliged, 
 for the next half hour, to listen to an extended 
 account of all the arrangements, and answer Ada's 
 hundred and one questions. 
 
 " You can't imagine, Alice," said Ada, " what a 
 splendid affair it is going to be. There are to be 
 tables set in Mrs. Cushing's long hall, with black
 
 6 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 waiters to tend them ; and the invitations are to be 
 written on the finest gilt-edged paper, with per 
 fumed envelopes. The company are to be very 
 select and recherche" Ada had a smattering of 
 bad French, " and I've no doubt the dresses will be 
 elegant. You ought to see Lily's. It's a beautiful 
 rose-colored satin, with a white overdress, trimmed 
 with the most expensive Valenciennes lace. What 
 shall I wear for a dress, Alice ? I hope pa'll get 
 me something splendid. What do you think of it, 
 Cousin Alice ? Don't you wish you were going ? 
 Perhaps I'll ask Lily to give you an invitation," 
 said the condescending Ada. 
 
 " Eeally, Cousin Ada, I don't know which of your 
 questions to answer. I think it is all very fine, and 
 I should like to go very much ; but you know L am 
 quite a novice in company, I never attended a fa 
 shionable party in my life." 
 
 " But for all that," exclaimed Fred, " there would 
 not be one there who could match our Alice ; for she 
 possesses the secret of all true politeness." 
 
 " And, pray, what may that be ? " said Lizzie. 
 
 " The beauty of a refined mind, tempered by a 
 loving-kindness to every one." 
 
 " Quite a poetical definition. What a pity Master 
 Fred Whiting didn't practise that kind of polite 
 ness ! " 
 
 " I do, in spirit, sister ; but my love of fun pre 
 vents the fulfilment of the letter."
 
 THE THREE WISHES. 27 
 
 " A poor excuse is better than none, I've heard. 
 For my part, I don't think natural qualities of mind 
 and heart ever made up for a fashionable education 
 and advantages." 
 
 " What are you thinking of, Alice ? " said her 
 uncle, playfully ; for she had been looking into the 
 fire very steadily for the last few minutes. 
 
 "It is just five years, to-night, since mother 
 died," said Alice. 
 
 " My poor child ! How thoughtless in me not to 
 remember it ! " Then, drawing his chair closer to 
 his niece, he said in a low voice, 
 
 " Do you remember, my dear, the night of your 
 mother's death ? With her last breath, she prayed 
 me to keep you 'pure and unspotted from the 
 world ; ' and invoked a blessing upon you. 
 
 " But I fear she placed her dependence upon a 
 broken reed ; for I was too much man of the 
 world, and could spare no time for the moral im 
 provement of myself or family. You are old 
 enough now, Alice, to understand these things. 
 Your mother meant that you should be a useful 
 Christian woman, who should make the world better 
 for her having lived in it. I wish to see you fulfil 
 ling her desire. With industry, and a high courage, 
 you can perform the allotted work." 
 
 " And with the help of God," said Alice, reve 
 rently. 
 
 " Of course, under the direction and blessing of
 
 28 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 Providence." But Alice sighed ; for she knew that 
 her uncle, with all his riches, turned away from 
 those " unspeakable riches " which are the best 
 inheritance of the poor. Truly the Word says, 
 " There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath 
 nothing; there is that maketh himself poor, yet 
 hath great riches." 
 
 It was a long time, that night, before Alice 
 closed her eyes in sleep. A new future had opened 
 before her, and she caught glimpses of a brighter 
 day. And when, at last, sleep descended like a 
 benediction upon her, it brought to her pillow only 
 dreams tinged with the rose-hue of happiness and 
 of hope.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LILT. 
 
 THE winter term, at Newton Seminary, com 
 menced early in December; and it was now the 
 middle of November. Mrs. Whiting had reluct 
 antly consented that the girls should attend a plain 
 New England school, though she had strongly 
 urged that Ada should attend a French Boarding 
 School. But her husband was firm. There was 
 much hurry and bustle all over the house, for the 
 wardrobe of the girls was to be prepared for a long 
 absence from home. Ada had been reconciled to 
 the idea of a country school, as she called it, by 
 learning that Lily Gushing was to attend the same 
 one ; and Alice was as happy as possible in the ful 
 filment of her dreams. She had already imagined 
 the appearance of the seminary, built a thousand 
 air-castles, and resolved on many a plan for her 
 future course. The time also drew near for Fred to 
 return to his school. It would be his last term 
 before entering college. 
 
 Black John, the coachman, still remained with 
 the family ; for, to do Mrs. Whiting justice, she had 
 not thought his father was sick, when she threat 
 ened him with dismissal. 
 
 One day, as Alice was preparing for dinner, she
 
 30 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 heard Ada at the head of the stairs, calling to 
 her, 
 
 " Only look, Alice," said Ada ; " did you ever 
 see any thing half so beautiful as this silk ? Mother 
 bought it for us to wear to Lily Cushing's party. 
 You and I are to have every thing alike; for I 
 heard father tell mother he wanted there should be 
 no difference between us. You know I went with 
 mother this morning ; and, on the way home, we 
 drove round by Mrs. Cushing's, and Lily's party is 
 to be given next week. The invitations for you 
 and I came this morning." 
 
 Thus Ada chattered on, unconscious that her 
 words had sunk below the surface of her cousin's 
 heart. But Alice stood in what Fred would have 
 called a "dark-brown study," thinking of all the 
 blessings that were heaped upon her, and wondering 
 if any man ever lived who was so good as her own 
 Uncle "William. But she had been taught by a 
 pious mother that every good and perfect gift 
 cometh from above ; and she knew that it was His 
 fatherly hand which smoothed the pathway of the 
 fatherless, and tempered the wind to the shorn lamb. 
 
 But it is time that we should say something of 
 Ada's friend, Lily Gushing. She was the daughter 
 of a lawyer, eminent for his talents and business 
 abilities. In wealth they were the equals of Mr. 
 Whiting's family, but in tastes, habits, and princi 
 ples very opposite. Mr. Gushing was a man of
 
 LILY. 31 
 
 large and liberal views, of an active benevolence, 
 and of sound principles, whose fountain-head was 
 found in the Word of God. He believed that his 
 wealth was given him that he might enlarge his 
 sphere of benevolence ; and, as a faithful steward, 
 he dispensed of his bounty to the poor, hoping for 
 nothing again. 
 
 Alice had been with Ada many times when she 
 had visited her friend. She loved the quiet home- 
 feeling which pervaded the house, the warmth 
 which was never found in the spacious halls of her 
 own home. There was no rigid ceremony, no freez 
 ing politeness, but perfect good-breeding and refine 
 ment. She loved Lily's gentle mother too, for she 
 made her think of her own. 
 
 Lily was fourteen years old, and was a most sensi 
 tive and shrinking child. Her disposition was sweet, 
 and her temper mild. Alice and Ada thought they 
 had never seen any one so lovely. She was the 
 idol of her parents; and Mrs. Gushing had often 
 said she feared her love for her was too passionate, 
 and that she might be weaned from it by the re 
 moval of its object. Not only was Lily beautiful in 
 mind, but she united with this those personal graces 
 which win the praise of the world, and attract the 
 eye of admiration. But Lily was one of those 
 beings who are in the world, and yet not of it. She 
 was full of that charity which " thinketh no evil ; " 
 and it seemed as if flattery came to her not so much
 
 32 THE SHEAVES OP LOVE. 
 
 to degrade as to make her white soul seem "whiter 
 still, in contrast to its own deformity. 
 
 As we have said, she was very prepossessing in 
 appearance. Her complexion was very fair; her 
 hair - of that color so aptly described as " brown in 
 the shadow, and golden in the sun." Her eyes 
 were blue, and her whole face radiant with an ex 
 pression of love and goodness. 
 
 There are some faces which we look upon ta ven 
 erate ; but Lily's was one to love. It is true, such 
 spirits seldom visit our earth ; but they show us 
 how pure our natures may be. They come to us 
 like ministering angels, to lift us up as by a 
 heavenly vision; to wipe off with the sweep of 
 their white garments the earth-dust of worldliness 
 and care.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 LILT'S PARTY. 
 
 ON the morning of the day on which Libr's party 
 was to be given, Mr. Whiting called Alice into his 
 library. " My dear child," said he, " I have been 
 waiting for you to tell me your ' third wish.' 
 You know you were to think of it, and tell me 
 what you liked best. Have you come to any de 
 cision ? " 
 
 " Why no, uncle ! Don't you remember I made 
 it at the time ? I wished that you would all love 
 me ; and 1 am very sure my wish is coming to 
 pass." 
 
 " We have always loved you, Alice ; but such 
 good conduct as yours deserves some visible re 
 ward ; " and Mr. Whiting threw round her neck a 
 fine chain, with a gold watch attached. " I want, 
 Alice, that you should prize this gift, not only for its 
 utility, but for the lesson of life it teaches. Re 
 member, that, every time this hand marks the hour, 
 another hand is going round upon the dial of your 
 Life-clock, marking your deeds, * whether they be 
 good, or whether they be evil.' Try, my child, 
 to think of these things : it is my great regret that I 
 have put them far from me." 
 
 Alice said nothing ; but her arm stole round her 
 
 2*
 
 34 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 uncle's neck, and there was the sound of tears in 
 her voice when at last she thanked and kissed him, 
 " I will keep your gift, dear uncle ; and its cease 
 less * tick-tick ' shall remind me of the never-end 
 ing debt of gratitude and love I owe you." 
 
 All y^is time a very different scene was being 
 enacted in the drawing-room. Lizzie was giving 
 Ada her instructions for the evening. " Be careful, 
 Ada," said her sister, " that you do not laugh aloud, 
 for it is excessively vulgar. And, when you shake 
 hands, present only two fingers, and bow slightly. 
 You are so little accustomed to society, that I am 
 afraid you will be rude. At any rate, do just as you 
 see fashionable people do, and you can't help being 
 right. But, above all, don't cultivate the acquaint 
 ance of anybody who is not well dressed and 
 genteel. You are handsome and entertaining, 
 and need not go a begging for friends." 
 
 And thus did this thoughtless sister infuse a 
 moral poison into that young heart. Ada was 
 naturally proud and overbearing, and should have 
 been encouraged to be kind and self-sacrificing 
 to others. 
 
 " Am I handsome ? " thought Ada, as she looked 
 in her glass, for the hundredth time that day. Hei 
 mirror told a flattering tale, as it reflected back the 
 clear complexion, glossy hair, sparkling eyes, and 
 rosy cheeks of the young inquirer. But vanity is 
 never contented with this silent testimony ; it wants
 
 LILY'S PARTY. 35 
 
 X 
 
 to hear of its charms from the lips of others. u No 
 body tells me I am good-looking," said she aloud. 
 " I am going down to ask mother what she thinks ; " 
 and the embryo belle ran down-stairs into the 
 drawing-room. But no one was there, save Alice, 
 who was sitting by the fire, mending an article of 
 dress. 
 
 " Do you think I am pretty, Alice ? " said Ada, 
 impetuously. 
 
 " Why yes, cousin, quite. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Because Lizzie told me so ; and I wanted to 
 know what you thought. I wonder why people 
 don't tell me so to my face." 
 
 "But that would be flattery ; and flattery is 
 always suspicious. Your false friends will tell you 
 of your good looks, when they have an advantage to 
 gain. For my part, I love you best when you are 
 good-natured and generous, and don't care a snap 
 for your good looks." 
 
 " Well, there's precious little comfort in you, 
 Alice Morton," said Ada ; and she ran to find her 
 mother. 
 
 But her mother's thoughts were preoccupied 
 with a fresh novel ; and there was no time to 
 attend to the spiritual needs of her child. So to 
 her teasing her mother answered, " Yes, dear, very 
 handsome ! " and sunk deeper than ever in her 
 reading. And thus the good seed remained un 
 sown.
 
 36 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 How different were Alice's thoughts, as she pre 
 pared for the party that night ! She was thinking 
 of her mother's counsels, when she had attended a 
 party once before. " My dear child," said that wise 
 mother, " I will give you one rule, which shall be 
 a sure guide for your conduct, the secret of 
 true politeness is true kindness. If your heart is 
 filled with love for your fellow-men, you cannot 
 fail to inspire them with respect for you. And let 
 your thoughts and actions be natural ; act your 
 self. The imitator either falls short of his model, 
 or ridiculously overacts his part." Alice loved to 
 remember these sayings, and apply them to her pre 
 sent needs ; indeed she ever strove to regulate her 
 conduct as she thought her mother wouM have ap 
 proved. Let us leave the girls to their preparations, 
 and find our old friend Fred. 
 
 He had gone to the stables to order the carriage, 
 and was now having an animated conversation with 
 Sam, the stable-boy. 
 
 This Sam was about twelve years old, a farm- 
 bred Yankee, and given to white-lying of the 
 darkest shade. Fred called him, familiarly, " Sam 
 Patch." 
 
 " Don't you think I am irresistible, Sam ? " said 
 Fred, as he stroked the place on his chin where his 
 whiskers would be, if he had any. 
 
 " Don't understand your French; but, if that 
 long word means slick, must say as how I do."
 
 LILY'S PARTY. 37 
 
 " Now look here, Sam Patch, I want to know 
 where my pearl-handed whip is." 
 
 " Dunno' nothin' 'bout it," said Sam, looking very 
 innocent. This whip was a present from a friend, and 
 Fred valued it highly. It had suddenly disappeared ; 
 and, knowing Sam's thieving propensities, Fred was 
 bound, as he expressed it, to have it out of him. 
 
 " You'd better own up. I'll knock you into the 
 middle of next week, if I find out you've been fib 
 bing about this. You know where that whip is." 
 
 " Hope to die if I do ! " and Sarn crossed his 
 hands upon his breast, and looked up with mock 
 solemnity in the direction of the stars. 
 
 Finding threatening would not avail, Fred changed 
 his tactics. It suddenly occurred to him what an 
 extra joke it would be to take Sam with him to 
 the party that night. " How it would shock Miss 
 Ada, and my proper little cousin," thought he. 
 " Done ! I'll promise Sam that he shall go, if he'll 
 own up about that whip." 
 
 " I say, Sam, did you ever go to a party ? " 
 
 "Used to go to apple-parings and sewing-bees, 
 when I was to home, if that's what you mean. 
 Don't have no such good times now. Don't see 
 nothiu' but work an' nasty hosses from mornin' till 
 night." 
 
 " Well, I am going to an apple-paring to-night, 
 and if you'll own up about that whip I'll let you go 
 with me."
 
 38 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " Told you I didn't know nothin' 'bout it," said 
 Sam doggedly. " And then I haint got nothin' to 
 wear, if I did go." 
 
 " I'll lend you my black necktie and my patent- 
 leather boots." 
 
 "Will you? Wish I'd stole that whip, so's I 
 could tell where 'tis." 
 
 "And I'll give you my last ' summer's jacket, 
 with shiny buttons," added Fred. 
 
 What farm-boy, who had never worn any thing 
 but coarse garments made up at home, could resist 
 such a temptation ? For once in his life, Sam was 
 strongly inclined to tell the truth. 
 
 " I guess," said he, " Black John must have 
 taken it ; for t'other day, as I was sweepin' out old 
 Billy's stall, I happened to look up at the eaves, and 
 I seed suthin' stickin' out that looked 'xactly like 
 the butt end of that whip." 
 
 Sure enough, as they looked up, they could 
 plainly see the handle of the lost whip. 
 
 "You see," said Sam, venturing to break the 
 ominous silence, "I put it there, so's 'twould be 
 sure an' be safe." 
 
 " I thought you said Black John stole it," said 
 Fred dryly. " But come up to my room, and you 
 shall go with me. You've fairly earned it by the 
 whopping lies you've told." 
 
 Fred sent a message to his sister and cousin, that 
 circumstances would prevent his being present at
 
 LILY'S PARTY. 39 
 
 the party till about the middle of the evening, and 
 accordingly the girls drove to Mrs. Cushing's alone. 
 Little did they dream of the mortification their mis 
 chievous Fred had in store for them. 
 
 At the party Alice saw many of her future school 
 mates. The Newton Seminary was deservedly 
 popular. The scholars were at home, spending 
 their vacation ; and many among them were the 
 friends of Lily. The large rooms were brilliantly 
 illuminated ; festoons of flowers hung gracefully 
 upon the walls, and from the ceiling above; and 
 music and dancing enlivened the festive hours. In 
 the midst of all this Ada moved like one in her ele 
 ment. Her handsome face and lively conversation 
 made her the centre of a group of eager listeners. 
 Her foot was lightest in the dance, and her laugh 
 the merriest o^ any. Alice was more quiet, but 
 modest and self-possessed. They wore dresses of 
 dark blue silk. Alice wore the watch her uncle 
 had given her. Ada wore a white overdress 
 trimmed with Valenciennes lace. 
 
 If Ada had been kind and thoughtful, she would 
 have left her gay companions sometimes to entertain 
 her less brilliant cousin, or to introduce her to her 
 friends. But no : she thought of nothing but her own 
 pleasure ; and, if Alice had waited for Ada's attentions, 
 she might have been a wallflower the whole evening. 
 
 " Ada," said Lily Gushing, " why don't you go 
 and speak to Alice ? She looks real lonely."
 
 40 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " Oh, I can't now ! " was the reply, as she turned 
 laughingly to her companions j " by-and-by, perhaps, 
 I will." 
 
 But Lily wanted to see every one happy around 
 her, and she did not selfishly exclude others from 
 her enjoyments. An arm stole softly around Alice's 
 waist, and a sweet voice whispered in her ear, " Are 
 you having a good time ? Come into the library, 
 and let me introduce you to our friends." 
 
 Alice bowed her thanks ; and, finding her cousin 
 did not intend to notice her, she put her hand in 
 Lily's, and allowed herself to be conducted into the 
 library. 
 
 " I wonder who that pale, sad-looking girl is that 
 is talking to Emma Weston," said Fanny Green, as 
 they left the group who were clustered about Ada. 
 
 " Oh ! that is Alice Morton ; and she is Ada 
 Whiting's cousin," said her companion ; " Lily got 
 acquainted with her at Ada's house, and thinks there 
 never was one like her. Let's go and dance." 
 
 " No," said Fanny, " I think I will get acquainted 
 with this Alice Morton. You know it is only com 
 mon courtesy to entertain strangers ; and then, who 
 knows ! perhaps I may entertain an angel una 
 wares." 
 
 " "Well, goodby ! " replied the other ; " for my part, 
 I would rather dance than entertain even angels." 
 
 " Pardon me for speaking without an introduc 
 tion : my name is Fanny Green."
 
 LILY'S PARTY. 41 
 
 Alice started at the strange voice ; but the smiling 
 face and bright eyes that met her view disarmed all 
 prejudice, and she extended her hand frankly, and 
 said, " And mine is Alice Morton, shall we be 
 friends ? " The two chatted pleasantly of school 
 affairs, and said they hoped they should both be in 
 the same class. 
 
 "Ada," said William Cady, "where's Fred. I 
 haven't seen him this evening." Before Ada could 
 answer the question, the object of their inquiry ap 
 peared to answer for himself. He had put his joke 
 into execution. Amid a wondering silence, he con 
 ducted the strange visitor into the room. 
 
 With a low bow to Lily, he said, " Permit me 
 to introduce my friend, Samuel Lockling, from Con 
 necticut." 
 
 " How d'ye do ? " said Sam ; " hope you're well." 
 
 Lily was much embarrassed ; but with her usual 
 kindness she gave a hand to each, and said, " Any 
 of your friends, Fred, are welcome." 
 
 You have heard of the jackdaw that got among 
 peacocks? Very much the same felt our hero. 
 The company stood for a few moments in silence, 
 gazing upon him as they would upon some strange 
 animal suddenly dropped down among them. In 
 fact. Sam looked like a picture from the Comic Al 
 manac. The necktie was drawn out into a bow of 
 mammoth extension ; the jacket, for which Sam had 
 paid the price of his honor, just revealed a yellow
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 shirt-bosom, fastened with very gay studs ; while he 
 carried his arms akimbo to prevent rumpling his 
 stiff cuffs, which were folded over his sleeves. 
 
 But, for all his homeliness and lack of polish, he 
 was a sharp-witted boy; and he began to suspect 
 that a joke had been played at his expense. It cer 
 tainly did not look like the apple-parings he had 
 been used to. The rich dresses and jewelled hands 
 of the young ladies little resembled the calico frocks 
 and buxom looks of the country belles. 
 
 " I say, Fred ! " said he, in a loud whisper, 
 " where's the apples ? Let's begin to pare ! " 
 
 " I should say, Mr. Lockling," said James Pierce, 
 with forced gravity, " that you were laboring under 
 a delusion." 
 
 " What's that ? " said Sam. 
 
 " A delusion, my friend," said James, proceeding in 
 his grandiloquent way, " is an erroneous impression, 
 which prevents the full play of the reasoning faculties, 
 and produces an abnormal condition of the mind." 
 
 Sam was as much in the dark as ever. "He 
 means to say," said Harry West, " that you've been 
 gulled, cheated : this isn't an apple-paring, but a 
 social party." 
 
 " Don't believe it ! " said Sam. " Nobody never 
 cheated me yet. Anybody that takes me for a fool 
 isn't much mistaken." 
 
 " That's a fact ! " said one ; " only you've got the 
 cart before the horse."
 
 LILY'S PAETY. 43 
 
 " How could you, Fred ? " said "William Cady, in 
 a whisper. " You have carried your fun too far 
 this time. Ada feels dreadfully ; and your cousin, 
 almost a stranger here : how could yo-u ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Fred ; " Sam won't hurt any 
 one. He's as harmless as a kitten. You may go 
 and comfort Miss Ada, if you want to." 
 
 It must be confessed that this awkward scene had 
 robbed Ada of her self-complacency. Her color 
 came and went as she was repeatedly asked, " "Who 
 is he ? " 
 
 " I declare," said she, (t I don't know any thing 
 about it. If Fred has a mind to introduce his 
 friends here, he may own them ; that's all I've got 
 to say." 
 
 But Sam did not need attention ; he was quite the 
 "lion" of the evening. Every one had something 
 to say to him. All seemed to enjoy the strange 
 guest ; and Sam, flattered by their attention, was as 
 loquacious as could be desired. The company were 
 too well bred to be rude to him ; and his own 
 mother-wit prevented his committing any serious 
 blunder. 
 
 How quickly can the difference be seen between 
 the true and the false lady ! While Ada stood aloof, 
 dreading lest Sam should recognize her, Alice, with 
 true innate delicacy, strove to relieve his embarrass 
 ment. With the one wealth, position, and gentility 
 could alone prevail ; the other recognized a brother
 
 44 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 under 'any exterior, however plain, and obeyed the 
 command, " Little children, love one another." 
 
 As it grew later, the guests began to depart ; and 
 Alice and Ada were both heartily glad when their 
 carriage was announced. Acting upon Lizzie's sug 
 gestions, when Ada took leave of Lily she presented 
 only two fingers, and bowed slightly, saying, " Good 
 night, Lily." 
 
 Being wholly ignorant of drawing-room etiquette, 
 our hero thought he could not do better than imi 
 tate her. So, awkwardly holding out his middle 
 and fore finger he made a fac-simile of Ada's bow, 
 and said, " Good-by, Miss ! If ever you come up to 
 Connecticut, jest inquire for Hezekiah Lockling's 
 farm, and our folks '11 show you an apple-paring 
 worth two of this. There's some difference betwixt 
 hay and grass." 
 
 An audible smile ran through the rooms. Fred 
 and his companions beat a hasty retreat to the 
 dressing-room ; and, once fairly on their way home, 
 Ada burst into a fit of angry weeping, broken only 
 by lamentations and bitter words of reproach. Fred 
 whistled " Yankee Doodle ; " Sam seemed con 
 cerned as to how he was coming out of the scrape ; 
 while Alice maintained a thoughtful silence. 
 
 At home Mr. and Mrs. Whiting were waiting the 
 return of their children, as this was the last evening 
 they would all spend together. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " sighed Mrs. Whiting, when Ada
 
 LILY'S PARTY. 45 
 
 had finished her list of Fred's enormities, " rny 
 children will be the death of me ! Oh my poor 
 nerves ! And then just to think of the mortification 
 of the thing. William, that boy is going to rack 
 and ruin as fast as he can go. But you don't see it, 
 none but a mother can ; and my health so feeble. 
 But keep on, ungrateful boy ! you'll kill your 
 mother, by-and-by, between you ! " 
 
 " Emily," said her husband, " be calm. This is 
 the children's last night at home. Let it be a happy 
 one. I have learned that a little sunshine is better 
 than many frowns." 
 
 Mrs. Whiting sobbed convulsively, with her 
 embroidered handkerchief to her eyes. Ada cried 
 from sheer vexation. 
 
 " After so much thunder, there must needs be a 
 shower," said Fred ; and the embryo Socrates went 
 to his chamber to relieve Sam not only of his 
 borrowed clothing, but of his anxiety. 
 
 Selfish, vain, indulgent mother ! The soil that is 
 neglected produceth no fruit. " Do men gather 
 grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ? " 
 
 " Kiss me, mother," said Lily Gushing, as she 
 was retiring that night. " Only think, mother ! 
 three whole months that I shall not hear your 
 * good-night,' or ^eel your kiss upon my cheek ; " 
 and a few tears that would not be suppressed stole 
 down her face. 
 
 The soft glimmer of that night-lamp shed a me-
 
 46 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 lancholy light over the chamber, and revealed a 
 touching scene. A kneeling mother prayed Hea 
 ven's blessing, upon her child, that wherever she 
 might go she might never stray from the Saviour's 
 fold. 
 
 " My child, in a corner of your small trunk you 
 will find a Bible, your mother's giil ; read it daily, 
 and make it the lamp of your feet." And then, lay 
 ing her hand among the sunny curls, she said 
 softly, 
 
 " May the Lord love you, my Lily ; may he lift 
 upon you the light of his countenance, and keep 
 you in his holy keeping now and for ever more ! " 
 
 Lily cried herself to sleep that night. Ada's 
 closely packed trunk stood in her room that night, 
 but if you had searched every corner you would 
 have found no Bible. There were ribbons and em 
 broideries, gloves and perfumes ; but there was no 
 room for the Word of Life. 
 
 But from that unhappy home one prayer at least 
 ascended, and one altar smoked with the incense of 
 gratitude. To Alice's trusting soul the good Father 
 sent rest, and the Spirit of Love said " Peace."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DEPARTURE. SWEET ELLEN LEE. 
 
 THE shadows deepened and deepened over the 
 decks, and still Mr. "Whiting and Alice sat in the 
 twilight; she telling him of her love and grati 
 tude, and he speaking words of counsel for the fu 
 ture. It was the New York boat bound out. The 
 farewells had all been spoken, the city left far be 
 hind ; but Alice sat looking tearfully at old John's 
 last gift. It was a wooden pear tastefully carved, 
 containing a purple satin heart, the work of Con 
 tent. That little gift told more of true sympathy 
 and love than the costly jewels of kings ; and it 
 was more precious, to one heart, at least. 
 
 Ada was in earnest conversation with a new ac 
 quaintance. Miss Evelina Cobb was a stylish young 
 girl, who was returning to the Newton Seminary. 
 She possessed the virtues of flattery and exaggera 
 tion in an eminent degree. Ada listened admiringly 
 while she told her of her father's immense wealth, 
 of the hundreds of balls she had been to, the beau 
 tiful dresses she wore. She had attended school at 
 the seminary for some time, and Ada asked her how 
 she liked it. 
 
 " Oh ! I suppose all schools are alike," was the 
 reply " They are all mean prisons. But, I tell
 
 48 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 you, they are awful strict at this school. And Miss 
 Newton is a dried-up old maid ; and she watches 
 the girls as a cat would a mouse. I made a horrid 
 fuss aj)out going back; but pa said I was wild 
 enough, and needed somebody to hold a pretty tight 
 rein." 
 
 " Uncle," said Alice, " do you see that old man 
 coming towards us ? May I offer him my chair ? " 
 But, before Mr. Whiting could answer, Alice sprang 
 eagerly forward. The old man had stumbled, and 
 fallen upon the deck. 
 
 Evelina broke into a girlish titter. 
 
 " Are you much hurt, sir ? " and Alice .tenderly 
 assisted him to rise, and placed his staff once more 
 in his hands. 
 
 " No, little one : I thank you. There are few 
 that would have done what you did." 
 
 " What a fool your cousin is to give that old man 
 her chair ! " said Evelina. " First come, first served, 
 eay I." 
 
 Ada did not like the heartless manner !>f her 
 friend ; but she had not the moral courage to de 
 nounce it. She thought her a stylish girl, and, 
 strange to say, felt honored by her notice. 
 
 "Alice is a strange girl," she said. "I confess 
 that I should not have done it." 
 
 Ada spoke truly. She would not even have 
 thought of it. People who make self their idol are 
 seldom over-thoughtful of the comfort of others.
 
 DEPARTURE. SWEET ELLEN LEE. 49 
 
 " May I know my young friend's name ? " said 
 the old gentleman. 
 
 ' ' It is Alice, Alice Morton," was the reply, 
 
 " Morton ? Morton ? " he repeated, as if striv 
 ing to brighten up some old memory. " Are you 
 any relation to the Mortons of Connecticut ? " 
 
 " My father once lived in that State. His name 
 was Edward Morton." 
 
 " Is it possible that this is Edward's child ? " said 
 the old man, looking earnestly in her face. " Yes, 
 yes. I see the same dark eyes and hair, the same 
 noble forehead." 
 
 " You knew my father, then ? " said* Alice, in sur 
 prise." 
 
 " Bless you, child, yes ! He was my scholar for 
 years. And a promising pupil he was. Where is 
 he now ? " 
 
 Alice lifted her hand and replied, " Gone to 
 that better country. I am a poor orphan, sir ; but 
 I am rich, too, for I have a father and mother in 
 heaven." 
 
 "My -poor child," said her companion tenderly. 
 " Can it be ! I never heard of Edward's death." 
 
 *' It is now eight years since he left us," said 
 Alice. " I can still remember how the tears stood 
 in his eyes when he bade us farewell. He rests in 
 foreign soil, the golden sands of California." 
 
 " He was a good boy," said the old man thought 
 fully, "and an honest man. I loved Edward."
 
 50 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " Then I shall love you," thought Alice, " for hl 
 sake." 
 
 Alice introduced him to her uncle, and told him 
 of her future hopes. She was surprised to find that 
 he was a resident of the same village where their 
 school was situated. He had been to New York to 
 obtain a permit for his grandson to enter the art- 
 school. "I have a pet grand-daughter, too," he 
 said, " and we hope to be able to send her to Miss 
 Newton's school next term." 
 
 " What is her name ? " said Alice. 
 
 " Ellen Lee." 
 
 " It is a pretty name," thought Alice. " I feeJ 
 as if I should like her." 
 
 They chatted on until Mr. Whiting deemed it 
 best that they should retire to their staterooms. The 
 shadows of evening deepened over the boat; and, 
 while it hides our friends -from our sight, let us pay 
 a hasty visit to Elmwood Village, and look upon 
 another scene. 
 
 Beyond that sudden bend in the old road, on the 
 other side of those great maple trees, stands the 
 little brown cottage of the Widow Lee. Did you 
 ever see a really old house, one upon whose long 
 gable roof the green moss had grown year after 
 year? Such a one is this. The friendly grass 
 grows around the low doorstep in summer ; and 
 the small window-panes, with their weather-beaten 
 sashes, make it seem even more venerable.
 
 DEPARTURE. SWEET ELLEN LEE. 51 
 
 The old-fashioned clock ticks in a corner of the 
 large kitchen. It has swung its lazy round for half 
 a century in that self-same place, and always looked 
 upon a happy and loving family. It is an humble, 
 yet neat apartment. The walls and floor are bare, 
 save a few sketches on the walls, and a strip of faded 
 rag carpet before the stove. An elderly lady and 
 .her ' daughter sit knitting by the light of a single 
 candle ; and once in a while the young girl will 
 stop to pat the great house-dog curled up at her 
 feet, -or cast an affectionate look on her brother. 
 Charles Lee and his sister Ellen are the widow's 
 children, and her only treasures, save an honest 
 name and a sure faith in God. 
 
 Charles flung from him the book he was reading, 
 and, looking sadly at his mother, exclaimed, "Oh, 
 dear ! it is so hard to be poor, to feel this terrible 
 griping poverty in the way of every aim ! " 
 
 " So I have thought a great many times," said 
 Ellen ; " but I never said it before. It don't seem 
 quite right to complain." 
 
 " My children," said their mother, " what we lack 
 in worldly goods is usually made up by an increase of 
 spiritual riches. The great world beyond is full of 
 snares, and riches are a pitfall to the feet of him 
 that hath them." 
 
 " But there's Evelina Cobb that proud girl 
 that ridiculed me so last summer has as much 
 money as she can spend. Now, why is she per-
 
 5 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 mitted to waste it when Charles and I need it so 
 much?" 
 
 "Do you mean that girl that laughed at your 
 thick shoes, when you were driving old Brindle 
 home last summer, and called you a ragged cow-girl, 
 because you had a hole in your dress ? " said 
 Charles. 
 
 " Yes : do you remember it ? " 
 
 " I shall never forget it. I don't think I ever 
 felt so wicked in all my life. I felt as if I should 
 like to kill her. And I was just going to call her a 
 hard name, when something whispered in my ear, 
 ' Charles Lee ! stop and think ; ' and then I re 
 membered the morning's lesson, ' not railing for 
 railing, but contrariwise, blessing ; ' and so I said 
 nothing, but let her go away. I tell you, Ellen, if I 
 live I will paint that picture one day." 
 
 Charles Lee was no common boy. No one could 
 look upon his frank, manly countenance, and not be 
 struck by the high expression it wore. His mind 
 was naturally brilliant ; but it had been softened 
 and refined by home influence. He was spirited 
 and daring ; but a mother's prayers and counsels 
 had curbed the fiery passions and enlarged the gene 
 rous nature of her boy. Miss Newton, the teacher 
 - of the seminary, was much interested both in him 
 and his sister. In Charles she saw the dawnings 
 of no common genius, and she freely taught him all 
 she knew of the art of painting ; and now she offered
 
 DEPARTURE. SWEET ELLEN LEE. 53 
 
 Ellen a free seat in tier school, and promised her 
 she would do all she could to fit her for a teacher. 
 
 Tney talked long of their future. Charles was 
 desponding. He thought of his poor mother, and 
 that she would be left alone if he should go to the 
 art-school. But Ellen was hopeful and happy. 
 Mrs. tee was anxious for both her children, but most 
 of all for Ellen. She remembered her scanty ward 
 robe, the thick shoes which Evelina Cobb haci ridi 
 culed ; and she answered Ellen's eager questions, 
 
 " My dear child, you must make up your mind to 
 bear some^ disappointments. But Miss Newton is 
 your fast friend, and I hope my Ellen has strength 
 of soul enough to bear any thing for the sake of 
 education." 
 
 " Indeed I have, mother ; and then I don't believe 
 the girls will laugh at me, if I try hard to please 
 them." 
 
 " You'd make twice as pretty a picture as any of 
 them," said Charles. " Sometime I shall paint you, 
 and then it will be as an angel, with a white robe, and 
 a halo round the head. And I shall love to paint 
 the Madonna, with her sweet face ; but I shall not 
 copy Raphael or Kembrandt. My Madonna will be 
 you, mother, with your brown hair and blue eyes ; 
 and I know those who look at it will think it is the 
 face of an angel." 
 
 Mrs. Lee wept. She was proud to be the mother 
 of so noble a son.
 
 54 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " See, brother ! you have made mother cry. It is 
 because we are poor, and you cannot go to the art- 
 school." 
 
 " If I live, she shall not have to weep much 
 longer," said Charles.
 
 CHAPTER Vfl. 
 
 SCHOOL-LIFE. 
 
 
 
 THE little village of Elmwood was an oasis in 
 our great desert world. There was no factory hum, 
 as there is in most of our New England villages ; 
 but, instead of the noise of spindles, Nature sang 
 songs of joy in the voice of the brooks, or grand 
 triumphal hymns in the dim old pines which 
 bordered the horizon like a verdant crown. It was 
 a quiet, rural place, just fitted for a school, where no 
 pleasures save Nature's tempted the students from 
 their books. Miss Newton, the principal, was a 
 lady of worth and talent, a true Christian woman, 
 and one of those rare persons who seem to mould 
 and pattern the minds of the young after their own 
 lofty and beautiful ideal. 
 
 Mr. "Whiting communicated to her his wishes in 
 regard to the gif Is' education. " I have brought 
 them- here," he said, "because your's is a plain New 
 England school. I have sent one daughter to a 
 French boarding-school, and she came back to me 
 with all the healthful springs of truth and duty 
 choked by vanity and self-love. I ask you to guard 
 carefully the morals of these. Teach them obe 
 dience and generosity, if they learn less of Latin and 
 mathematics."
 
 56 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 Mr. Whiting spoke earnestly, as one would who 
 had placed a priceless jewel in the keeper's hands. 
 Miss Newton was much affected. " I will do what 
 I can," she said ; " but almost all depends on their 
 early training. These girls have formed their cha 
 racters in a great degree." 
 
 "Their home-life has not been what I wish it 
 had," said Mr. Whiting. " I am a man of the world ; 
 and in the fashionable circles of New York the mind 
 and heart are secondary things." 
 
 It was a large, cheery room into which our young 
 friends were shown. The white beds nestled cosily 
 under their snowy canopies ; a pretty, though com 
 mon carpet covered the floor ; and pretty chamber 
 chairs, bureaus, and sinks completed the furniture. 
 
 When Alice awoke the next -morning, the gray 
 light was streaming in through the blinds. For a 
 few moments she seemed like one in a dream, 
 hardly comprehending how she came in that strange 
 room, and among those unfamiliar objects. Alice 
 could not look back upon her foftner life with so 
 much regret as did Lily, for she had had no kind 
 mother to cheer and aid her ; and the aunt who 
 might have filled that mother's place had never 
 tried to win her love. Alice's first emotions, there 
 fore, were those of joy, that her ardent wishes were 
 realized, and that her school-life was commenced. 
 She reviewed all her past life. She remembered the 
 little brown cottage which childhood's sunny memo-
 
 SCHOOL-LIFE. 57 
 
 ries still gilded with a Sacred halo. Her feet went 
 over the same green paths. And she remembered 
 a sadder scene, when she stood in a hushed room, 
 and wore a black dress, while strange hands lifted 
 her up to look for the last time on the pale face, ere 
 the " dust to dust " hid it for ever from her sight. 
 And then came a new life in the great city, a 
 beautiful house, splendid furniture, rich dresses, 
 and gay company ; but how gladly would she have 
 exchanged it all for a mother's love or a father's 
 blessing ! Yet there are bright spots in every expe 
 rience ; and Alice felt that many gleams of sunshine 
 had checkered her city life. She thought with 
 pleasure of the good she had done "Old John," 
 and called to mind her Uncle William's kindness, 
 and Fred's sympathy. " After all," said she to her 
 self, "if it had not been for Fred, I never should 
 have come to school. He did not laugh at my fool 
 ish plan, but helped me to a better. Oh ! I do love 
 him and Uncle "William ; and I hope I can do some 
 thing to show it yet. Of course," she mused,- " I 
 would not like that he should ever -feel the need of 
 my help ; but, if he ever should, I should be so 
 proud and happy to show them that the poor orphan 
 could repay their kindness." 
 
 School-life had opened pleasantly to our young 
 friends. They learned to love their kind teacher ; 
 and Alice looked upon her almost as a mother. 
 Only one thing troubled her, and this was Evelina 
 
 3*
 
 58 . THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 Cobb's unhappy influence over Ada. None can tell 
 how much a flattering, silly girl may mislead one of 
 Ada's unstable temperament. 
 
 One day, as Alice passed a group of girls on her 
 way to the dining-room, she heard Jane Swift talk 
 ing in a very mysterious manner. This Jane Swift 
 was a gossiping girl, the bosom friend of Evelina. 
 She loved dearly to retail every thing she heard ; 
 and a piece of news suited her better than a Paris 
 bonnet. The girls called her the " Newton news 
 paper." When it was first known that our friends 
 were coming to the school, she had seized upon the 
 report with her usual eagerness ; and she astonished 
 her schoolmates by telling them of the lovely 
 orphan, Alice Morton, whose father was devoured 
 by lions in California, and whose mother died of a 
 broken heart. But we have forgotten our story. 
 Alice heard her talking in a subdued undertone, 
 
 " I was in the anteroom, > and I overheard the 
 whole of it. You know Evelina came down this 
 morning very late ; and Miss Newton told her last 
 term, that, jf she was not early in future, she would 
 have to go without her breakfast." 
 
 "What did she say to her?" said Ella Eich- 
 mond. 
 
 " Oh ! she gave her a regular blessing. And she 
 talked to her about her dress. But that isn't the 
 worst of it. You know Evelina always had the 
 greatest dislike to Ellen Lee, and is not backward
 
 SCHOOL-LIFE. 59 
 
 about expressing it. It seems that last night Ellen 
 overheard us talking about her, and heard Evelina 
 call her a * charity scholar.'" 
 
 " And she ran right off and told Miss Newton, I 
 suppose," said Emily Dean. 
 
 " No, not quite that. Miss Newton found her 
 crying in the dressing-room, and made her tell her 
 what was the matter. I'm afraid she will call me 
 to an account. Do you remember any thing I said, 
 girls ? " 
 
 " No ! Did I say any thing ? " exclaimed all in a 
 breath. 
 
 Anxiously they listened while Jane proceeded : 
 
 " Miss Newton was dreadfully displeased. She 
 told Evelina that Ellen Lee was now a member of 
 the school, and she should allow no one to insult or 
 wound her ; and she threatened her with dismissal 
 in case the offence was repeated." 
 
 The girls talked on ; but Alice had heard enough. 
 She saw the evil influence which Evelina exerted on 
 those around her, and she felt sad that Ada should 
 be attracted by her empty show and glitter. And 
 she mentally resolved that she would try and win 
 her back to the society of true friends. 
 
 Ellen stayed at noon, and took dinner with the 
 rest. Her face was pale and sad, and she seemed 
 nervous when spoken to. Shrinking and sensitive 
 as she was, the rudeness of her schoolmates had 
 wounded her to the quick. Could those thoughtless
 
 60 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 girls have seen her the night Before, when she 
 reached her home and gave free vent to her grief, they 
 would have spared that young heart such anguish. 
 But. they were laughing and happy ; while she, the 
 butt of their ridicule, knelt in the little kitchen, and, 
 burying her face in the folds of her mother's dress, 
 told, with tears and sobs, the story of her school 
 troubles. They did not see the tears in the mother's 
 eyes, nor witness the fiery anger of Charles, nor 
 hear the trembling voice of Grandfather Lee, as he 
 blessed and encouraged her. How should they know 
 or care ? Were not they rich, and she poor ?
 
 CHAPTER VHL 
 
 THE YOUNG COLLEGIAN. 
 
 SPRING had come, with its soft breezes and flute- 
 like melodies ; and with ils awaking buds came also 
 a new life to Frederick Whiting. He had passed 
 his last term at school, and entered college with the 
 most flattering prospects. He was young, rich, and 
 handsome ; added to this were his polished man 
 ners, and strong, healthy mind.. No wonder that 
 these many qualities made him a general favorite, 
 and that he was in danger of being spoiled by 
 flattery and admiration. In fact, Fred was in danger 
 of becoming as flippant and frivolous as the butter 
 flies of fashion who surrounded him. His room 
 was the resort of gay young men, " prime fellows," 
 
 whose list of accomplishments was only equalled 
 by that of their demerits. 
 
 But I?r,ed never failed in a recitation. His lessons 
 were always ready ; though no one could tell how 
 they were prepared. Was there some convivial 
 meeting .of choice friends ? there was Fred. Was 
 there some plan on foot for pleasure or amusement ? 
 
 there was Fred. Open, sunny -hearted, and gene 
 rous to a fault, he was a ringleader in every boyish 
 freak. Only one influence restrained him, and that 
 was the counsel of his friend, William Cady. And
 
 68 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 sometimes, too, when on the eve of some new frolic, 
 he would think of Alice, and laugh to think how 
 gravely she would look and talk, if she knew of his 
 doings. 
 
 " I tell you, boys," said Frank Parsons, one of a 
 group of intimates who gathered in Fred's room one 
 night, " I tell you, it will be capital sport. We've 
 got it all arranged. Next Friday night, the * boss ' 
 and his satellites are going to a levee, so it will be a 
 fine chance for us to take a holiday. We've fixed it 
 so. Henry Mason has engaged to furnish us with 
 horses and wagons from his father's stables ; and at 
 nine o'clock we will start for Cherry Farm, where a 
 supper will be in waiting for us. I guess we'll 
 waste the midnight oil to better advantage than in 
 digging out Latin." 
 
 " But how- shall we get back ? " said another ; 
 " and how shall we excuse our absence ? " 
 
 it Oh ! " replied the first speaker, "we'll manage 
 that. Wit is the twin-brother of necessity. We 
 may depend on you, Whiting ? " 
 
 " Certainly," was the reply ; and they shook 
 hands over their bargain, and departed. 
 
 Fred's room had been fitted up expressly for him. 
 A Brussels carpet covered the floor; rich, heavy 
 curtains shaded the windows ; and bookcases and 
 busts gave a finishing touch to the beautiful apart 
 ment. When his visitors were gone, Fred took 
 down his books, run over the lessons, and then sank
 
 THE- YOUNG COLLEGIAN. 63 
 
 into a fit of profound musing. He was in trouble. 
 The projected frolic, to which he had pledged him 
 self, would be a dangerous and expensive one. But 
 the danger did not trouble him. It was only the 
 latter consideration. His extravagant habits had 
 left him destitute of funds. How were they to be 
 raised ? Scarcely a month had passed since he had 
 received a liberal allowance from his father ; and he 
 knew if he applied again it would cause inquiries, 
 and perhaps his allowance would be lessened in the 
 future. It would not do to sell any article, for that 
 would be sure to be discovered. But he could not 
 refuse to go, his word once given ; nor indeed could 
 he forego the hope of so much pleasure. In this 
 dilemma, a thought suddenly struck him. He rose 
 hastily, went to his writing-desk, penned a letter, 
 sealed and directed it. Let us look at the super 
 scription. " Miss Alice Morton." Yes : he had 
 applied to his cousin for money to help him out df 
 this difficulty. 
 
 How eagerly did Fred break the seal of Alice's 
 answering letter, which he received two days after 
 wards ! He glanced at rather than read the follow 
 ing words : 
 
 MY DEAR Cotrsix, Your affectionate letter gave me a 
 great deal of pleasure ; but the request you made has caused me 
 more pain than I ever experienced before. -The money I can 
 let you have without difficulty, as Uncle William's liberality 
 overleaps my most extravagant wishes. Dear cousin, do not
 
 64 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 tliink me presuming, when I ask you to think seriously before 
 you take this step. What were one little night of pleasure to 
 the disgrace, it may be of expulsion, or the pain of conscience ? 
 I know you will respond when I appeal to your sense of right. 
 Think of the hopes that hang on your course ! Think of your 
 parents' disappointment, if, instead of pointing to you with just 
 pride, they were obliged to view their only son in silent shame ! 
 O my dear Cousin ! think, reflect : the first wrong step of a 
 lifetime has often been a lesser one than this. You know me 
 too well to think I would object to a harmless frolic. But this 
 is not so. How mean to creep away under cover of darkness, 
 and in the absence of teachers ! O Fred ! how can you, so 
 noble-hearted, do any thing you would be ashamed the whole 
 world should know ? You love me, do you not ? At least I have 
 thought so. I love you ; and I have prayed that I might speak 
 rightly in this case. I have sent you-the money ; but oh ! Fred, 
 if you have any love for me, let me beg you will show it by 
 resisting this temptation. Will you not do this much to please 
 me ? I shall wait eagerly for your answer. Meantime my con 
 stant prayers follow you. Ada sends love, and joins me in this 
 supplication. 
 
 Ever your loving cousin. ALICE. 
 
 Fred turned the ten dollar bill over and over 
 again. The eager look with which he had received 
 it had vanished, and in its place was a look of pen 
 sive thought. Long he sat and mused. In his first 
 disappointment at his cousin's sober letter, he had 
 indulged in all sorts of bitter words, called his 
 cousin old-maidish and stingy ; but when he read 
 her earnest, loving letter over again, he was ashamed. 
 The letter and money dropped from his nerveless 
 grasp. The form of Alice seemed to rise up before
 
 THE YOUNG COLLEGIAN. . 65 
 
 him: he could fancy her sweet, pleading expression, 
 and almost see the tears in her eyes, and hear her 
 voice, as she said, " Will you not do this much to 
 please me ? " He thought how selfish he was to be 
 willing to inflict so much pain on others for an 
 evening's frolic." 
 
 " I would not go," he said softly, " if I had not 
 given my word." 
 
 " But a bad promise is better broken than kept," 
 said Conscience. 
 
 " No," replied the tempter. " Your honor is at 
 stake. You have the money, go." 
 
 But again the faithful sentinel, Conscience, whis 
 pered, te Be above it. Show you honor a manly 
 sentiment, by refusing to stain it by deception." 
 
 Hard pressed, the tempter urged his strongest 
 point, " You will be called a coward. Your com 
 panions will ridicule you." 
 
 " I do love you, Alice," said Fred, " and I should 
 like to please you ; but you ask too much. I cannot 
 break my word." 
 
 " You have done*right," said the tempter. " You 
 have done wrong," said Conscience. " Count one 
 step backward." 
 
 " I shall not go," said William Cady, in answer 
 to the entreaties of his schoolmates. " I know my 
 .parents would object ; and my own heart tells me it 
 is wrong." 
 
 " I have thought of withdrawing too," said Fred.
 
 66 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " What, you ! Why, your name is on the list. 
 What has come over you ? " said one. 
 
 " Is it conscientious scruples, or does the old go 
 vernor object ? " said another. 
 
 " Oh ! Whiting's turning Methodist," said Frank 
 Parsons. lf How long have you been on the anxious 
 seat, Brother Whiting ? " 
 
 The color of wounded pride rushed to Fred's tem 
 ples. " You are too bad, boys," said he, laughing. 
 " I -did not say I should withdraw, but that I had 
 thought of it." 
 
 Once more the tempter had triumphed. 
 
 Friday evening came. Fred had stifled down 
 every feeling of self-reproach ; and, if thoughts of 
 Alice and her letter did intrude, he had put them out 
 of his mind as soon as possible. The plan of the 
 students was all matured. An empty house had 
 been secured at Cherry Farm, a place about five 
 miles from the city ; an expensive supper was or 
 dered to be ready when they arrived ; and they 
 only waited for darkness to cover their departure. 
 There was -a strong feeling of disapproval among the 
 older students ; and by no means the best class of 
 them were engaged in the enterprise. The rules 
 of the institution forbade the absence of pupils at 
 night, unless by especial permission. 
 
 Fred retired to his room to prepare. Strange to 
 say, the pleasure which he anticipated so joyfully a 
 week ago now had no charm for him. He' heartily
 
 THE YOUNG COLLEGIAN. 67 
 
 wished the frolic was all over ; for Conscience had 
 never once ceased talking to him of right and duty. 
 The party were to start at nine. Eight o'clock 
 came, half-past, a quarter to nine ; and still 
 Fred sat in his room silent and unhappy. Alice's 
 letter was on a table before him. Shall I tell you 
 what was in his mind all this time ? 
 
 As he sat there, half conscious, half dreaming, he 
 was recalling much of his past boyhood. The little 
 college room faded away before his eyes; and in its 
 place he saw a beautiful room, with rich furniture 
 and costly pictures. A merry, laughing boy, and 
 his bright-eyed sister, played draughts in a corner ; 
 and an invalid lady sat in the sunlight, which poured 
 its afternoon glory into the apartment. It was one 
 of the pictures of his memory. But the foremost 
 figure was a child, with eyes tearful and beseeching, 
 and a face wearing all the expression of sorrowing 
 love. How well did Fred remember that scene ! 
 It was when Alice first came to live at her uncle's. 
 She felt lonely and desolate in the great room, and 
 would often sit down and cry for hours together. 
 Fred was at home but little, but he always liked the 
 sprightly Ada better than the sober Alice. On this 
 afternoon Alice had crept to the back of his chair to 
 watch the game. She had been weeping, and the 
 tears were not yet dry upon her cheeks. "Go 
 away," said he rudely ; " I hate cry-babies." All 
 this came back to him as he sat there ; and he
 
 68" THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 could see her reproachful look when she said, " O 
 Cousin Fred ! I have no one to love me ! " And then 
 he remembered how with eager regret he had kissed 
 her, and said he was sorry, and from*that time loved 
 her better than all the world. "I wonder," he 
 thought, "if Alice would recognize in this selfish 
 being the same frank and ardent boy of long ago." 
 
 And then another picture rose up before him. 
 He fancied Alice in her room at school. He could 
 see her kneeling, and praying that he, her cousin, 
 might be " delivered from temptation." And then 
 came the sweet pleading voice, " Will you not 
 do this much to please me ? " His pride and self- 
 love appeared to him in all their hateful deformity ; 
 and he said, "It is enough ! Alice, your letter has 
 saved me." 
 
 " Come, "Whiting ! what are you dreaming about ? 
 We've been waiting this ten minutes for you ! " ex 
 claimed Frank Parsons, as he slapped our hero 
 familiarly on the shoulder. 
 
 " I am not going," said Fred firmly. " Not 
 going! not going!" was echoed from all sides. 
 But, in spite of remonstrances or taunts, he held his 
 purpose. The rubicon was passed, he had reached 
 the shores of peace and quietness ; and his com 
 panions, with their dangerous project, were left on 
 the other side. 
 
 Morning brought back the students, merry with 
 wine. Fred looked at them, and rejoiced that he
 
 THE YOUNG COLL^JblAN. 69 
 
 had escaped such degradation. The freak was dis 
 covered ; a part of the students were suspended, and 
 the ringleaders expelled. Fred felt that he could 
 afford to have Frank Parsons call him a coward. 
 
 And Alice ! was not she doubly happy when she 
 read the affectionate letter her cousin sent her in re 
 turn ? The influence she gained over him at this 
 time was strengthened by future correspondence. 
 Alice's conscientiousness was a check on his impul 
 siveness. Truly " there is that maketh himself 
 poor, yet hath great riches." Poor, indeed, was she 
 in this world's goods ; but rich in faith, rich in love, 
 rich in moral influence over those she loved. 
 Who would not rather prefer to be a blessing to 
 others, a monitor of good, than to possess the 
 world ? 
 
 The seed sown in prayer arid in tears here bore 
 its first harvest. It was the first sheaf in Alice's 
 harvest of love.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A SABBATH IN ELJTWOOD. 
 
 SPRING budded, bloomed, and faded ; Summer 
 grew old in the steps of her elder sister, till, 
 smothered by her own roses, she dropped them, 
 brown and sere, into the lap of pensive Autumn. 
 And yet another winter and spring have departed 
 since our friends entered upon the pleasures and 
 trials of school-life.. Circumstances had rendered 
 Alice mature, while yet a child ; but now the disci 
 pline of hard study had deepened the thoughtful 
 expression upon her face, and made her, in very 
 truth, a woman. Gentle, loving Lily had worked 
 her way into every heart ; for her soul was like a 
 wind-harp, vibrating to every passing emotion, 
 whether of sympathetic smiles or tears. Beautiful 
 she was as a spirit, and as pure ; but as fragile as a 
 flower. Whenever the girls had an angel to paint 
 in their pictures they would give it the face of Lily ; 
 and they said their only fear was that she would 
 steal its wings and fly away. But, for all this, her 
 goodness was of the negative kind, passive and yield 
 ing. With Alice it was an active Christian princi 
 ple ; antl she found the spur of duty in Christian 
 love. 
 
 Long ago Miss Newton had separated Ada and
 
 A SABBATH IN ELMWOOD. 71 
 
 Evelina, for she saw the evil of their companionship. 
 Ada had been advanced to a higher class. Between 
 Alice and the thoughtful Ellen Lee a tender inti 
 macy had sprung up ; and much good to both was 
 the result. 
 
 It was a sabbath morning in August. The dew 
 yet lay upon the grass, and the sweet perfume of 
 clover blossoms came in at the open windows like 
 the sensible blessing of Mother Nature. A sabbath 
 in the country ! how blessed is it ! The great trees 
 stretch above you their tall arms in benediction ; and 
 the ring of silver bells seems to speak of that 
 heaven where all is one eternal harmony. 
 
 It was a pleasant walk to the church. Alice 
 found her little class assembled in the chapel. 
 Many of them were the younger scholars of the 
 seminary, and were tenderly attached to their Sun 
 day teacher. 
 
 Evelina sat in her room. Her hair was yet in 
 papers, and her morning dress unchanged. On her 
 return home at the last vacation, she had supplied 
 'herself with a quantity of yellow-covered novels ; 
 and she now sat crying over a story of love and 
 broken hearts. Jane Swift, now her room-mate, 
 was standing before the glass, practising airs and 
 graces. Evelina stopped reading to look at her, as, 
 perfectly unconscious, she went through her per 
 formances. It was ludicrous enough. First she 
 would smile in the most killing way, just enough to
 
 72 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 show, the tips of her teeth ; then she would draw 
 down the corners of her mouth with becoming 
 gravity; then, opening her fan, she waved it 
 languidly to and fro, only stopping rfow and then 
 for another of those melting smiles. 
 
 " What are you doing* Jane ? " exclaimed Evelina. 
 
 " Nothing, " said Jane, blushing, " only amus 
 ing myself. What are you doing ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I'm reading the * Robbers' Cave, or the 
 Knight's Revenge ; ' and I've just come to a splendid 
 passage where the lady is killed by the robbers, and 
 the knight swears vengeance. Don't you think, Jane, 
 that TOP live in a dreadful hum-drum age of the world ? 
 No one ever gets carried away by robbers now-a-days ; 
 and there are no knights to rescue fair ladies." 
 
 " And no one to play the guitar under the green 
 wood tree," added Jane. " But come, Evelina ; get 
 up, or you will be late to meeting." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't believe I shall go," said Evelina, 
 yawning. " Miss Newton won't notice that I'm not 
 there among all the rest." 
 
 " But you know," said Jane, " that Judge Hall's 
 son came home from Germany this week. So I sup 
 pose he will be at church this morning." 
 
 " Sure enough ! " said Evelina. " I guess I will 
 
 go." 
 
 " Miss Alice," said little Lizzie Grant, when the 
 lesson was all repeated, " will you be so kind as to 
 tell me wl^at a * catch ' is ? "
 
 A SABBATH IN ELMWOOD. 73 
 
 " I don't understand you, my dear. Tell me in 
 what connection you heard it, and then, perhaps, I 
 can explain it." 
 
 " Why, the other day Nelly heard Evelina talk 
 ing about a Mr. Hall that had just come home from 
 Europe, and she said he was a * great catch.' Now 
 I always thought a catch meant some kind of a trap, 
 and we didn't see how a man could be a trap." 
 
 Alice blushed at the childish version of her 
 schoolmate's remark, and briefly told them that it 
 was a foolish saying. 
 
 " But the Bible says, Miss Alice," broke in the 
 child, whose thoughtful blue eyes were fixed won- 
 deringly upon her, " that it is the lips of fools that 
 poureth out foolishness." 
 
 Alice could not say a word. What defence could 
 she give Evelina? Even the pure lips of a little 
 child had condemned her. 
 
 Down the aisle walked Alice to her accustomed 
 seat. The village church was no costly structure ; 
 but a simple temple, cheerful and sunshiny, like the 
 religion that was preached there Sunday after Sun 
 day. The warm wind stole in through the open 
 windows, eloquent with the smell of new-mown hay 
 and golden fruits ; the sunshine fell in broad bands 
 across the nave ; and the sound of brooks and whis 
 pering leaves thrilled the air like rippling music. 
 
 Alice's mind was filled with devout thoughts. 
 As the organ pealed out its solemn tones, she
 
 74 
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 
 thought that the little church, with its nave rtsting 
 in sunshine and shadow, and its organ harmony in 
 the choir, was a symbol of what our life should be. 
 On the level of every-day life, duty and pleasure, 
 sorrow and joy, blend like the shadow and sunshine
 
 A SABBATH IN ELMWOOD. 75 
 
 but, like the organ above, the soul's voices should 
 be ever singing, to hallow the daily life alike of joy 
 or sorrow. 
 
 The minister preached upon "Vanity;" but Eve 
 lina did not hear a word.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CHARLES'S PICTURE, 
 
 "I wonder what it can be ! " said Lucy Howard, 
 as the old stage stopped at the door, and a large 
 square package was handed out. 
 
 " I'll bet a copper I can tell ! " said the ever- 
 ready Jane Swift. ' " It's those Intellectual Philoso 
 phies that Miss Newton has ordered to bother our 
 brains with." 
 
 * " No," said Mary Knowles, " the package is too 
 large for that." 
 
 Miss Newton ordered the mysterious article to be 
 brought in and placed upon the table. " What is 
 it ? " exclaimed many voices. 
 
 "I don't know," she replied. " We will open it 
 and see." 
 
 The girls stood in anxious expectation while the 
 wrappers were removed. 
 
 " Oh, it is a picture ! " said Lily Gushing ; " I 
 can see the corner of the frame." 
 
 " Yes," said Ada, " I can see it ; it is an oil paint- 
 ing." 
 
 "How beautiful!" exclaimed . all, as the last 
 wrapper was removed. " Why, it is the old road. 
 There are the old maples, and there is the bend,
 
 CHARLES'S PICTURE. 77 
 
 with the Widow Lee's cottage beyond ; and even 
 old Brindle," said one. " How perfect I " 
 
 'A note had dropped from the picture. It was 
 dated at New York, and signed " Charles Lee." It 
 begged Miss Newton's acceptance of the work, as a 
 token of gratitude, and a sample of his improve 
 ment during the year and a half he had attended the 
 art school. 
 
 Ellen gazed with admiration, not unmingled with 
 pride, on her brother's beautiful work. He had writ 
 ten her that he intended sending Miss Newton a 
 picture ; but she knew not of the deep meaning he 
 had hidden in it, of the wounded pride which 
 found expression in its lights and shadows, and of 
 the spirit of revenge which had nerved the arm and 
 guided the brush of the young painter. 
 
 " I do believe, Ellen," said Lily, " that he meant 
 the milkmaid should represent you. And that boy 
 coming over the field with the hoe over his shoul 
 der looks just as Charles used to ! Isn't it beautiful, 
 Miss Newton ? " 
 
 " It is indeed," replied their teacher. " I see no 
 reason why -Charles should not become a great 
 painter." 
 
 As these things were pointed out to Ellen, a new 
 light was cast upon the picture. She saw through 
 the whole now. Charles had painted the scene be 
 neath the old maples to revenge himself upon Eve 
 lina for the insult she had offered his sister, when
 
 78 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 she taunted her with her mean attire and her po 
 verty. She dreaded to have the girls discover the 
 truth, and yet she wondered that they could be so 
 blind. 
 
 " Why, girls ! " exclaimed Lucy Howard, " those 
 faces are all portraits. Look at that figure point 
 ing towards it it is the very image of Evelina 
 Cobb." 
 
 " Hush ! there she is now," said Lucy, as Eve 
 lina 'entered the room and advanced towards the 
 group. "Don't say any thing. See if she will 
 notice the resemblance ! " 
 
 " Look, Evelina ! see what a beautiful picture 
 Charles Lee has sent us." 
 
 Evelina advanced towards the speakers. " I think 
 it is done very well," said she. But, as she took a 
 nearer and closer view, she saw something in it be 
 sides an old road with maples. Every line was alive 
 with meaning. It was no fancy sketch. That sum 
 mer scene came back to her : the picture represented 
 her as she stood there, with her countenance scorn 
 ful, her hand extended, and her lips just parted to 
 speak those cruel words, " You are a ragged cow 
 girl." Covered with mortification and anger, she 
 looked round upon the group to see if they remem 
 bered the scene. She met the inquiring looks of 
 Miss Newtpn, and the conscious faces of her school 
 mates. The "color rushed to her cheeks, and then 
 retreated, leaving her very pale. Miss Newton,
 
 CHARLES'S PICTURE. 79 
 
 surprised and alarmed, said, " You seem faint ; " and 
 made a motion to help her. 
 
 " No ! " said Evelina, endeavoring to recover her 
 self: " it is nothing." Her pride came to her aid. 
 
 " I don't care, I am not ashamed," she said over 
 to herself, as if answering the rebukes of conscience. 
 " I always did hate Charles Lee. I hate him now. 
 I hate his sister. Why should I fear to look at that 
 picture ? I will look at it ! " and she fixed her eyes 
 firmly upon the painting. 
 
 But the beseeching expression which Charles had 
 thrown into those eyes, the pleading humility, 
 were too much for her. She looked up, but only to 
 meet those of the original fixed mournfully upon 
 her face. It wafc a look of pain, as if she asked par 
 don for her brother's revengeful act. Pleading ill 
 ness, Evelina escaped from' the room. 
 
 " What is it ? what was the matter with Eve 
 lina ? " asked a dozen voices in a breath. And 
 twenty voices essayed to answer the question. Miss 
 Newton was wholly ignorant of the case ; and our 
 friends looked on with eager curiosity. Ellen felt 
 that she alone could put the act in its proper light ; 
 and she was anxious to tell the story herself. So, 
 leaving the girls, she requested a private interview 
 with Miss Newton. 
 
 " Isn't it romantic ? " said the girls. " Who would 
 have thought it ? It's as strange as any thing we 
 read in books ! "
 
 80 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " Oh ! but," said Jane Swift, " I think it was cruel 
 in him to paint our portraits there ! Only think 
 of it ! there they will remain for years." 
 
 " But only think," said Jerry Williams, " how 
 much worse it is to wound two such sensitive hearts 
 as theirs ! This picture is engraved on their souls, 
 and the memory of that cruel taunt will remain there 
 for ever ! " 
 
 " It wouldn't have been so bad," said Lucy How 
 ard, " if one of you had been handsome. Then 
 some one might have seen the picture and fallen in 
 love with you ; and that would have finished it up 
 beautifully." 
 
 "You ought to have been there, Lucy," said 
 Emily Dean. 
 
 The study bell rifng, and the girls left the draw 
 ing-room. Two seats were vacant, Evelina's and 
 Ellen's. A hush seemed to have settled upon the 
 school, and the girls were dreamy and absent-minded. 
 
 Jane Swift managed, privately, to tell Ada that 
 she was glad of it, and hoped it would cure Eve 
 lina's pride. 
 
 Alas ! what pride so great as that which shuts its 
 eyes to its own faults ? 
 
 Between tears and sobs, Ellen finished her story. 
 "My dear Miss Newton, I cannot tell you how 
 sorry I am for this occurrence ! It does not seem 
 possible that my dear, good, generous brother would 
 stoop to revenge an injury. But oh, madam ! his
 
 CHARLES'S PICTURE. 81 
 
 provocation was great. He is high-spirited, and 
 loves his unworthy sister as well as when we knelt 
 together at our mother's knee. Let me pray that 
 you will not let this rob him of your respect; for, oh ! 
 indeed he is good and worthy." 
 
 "My dear girl," and Miss Newton laid her 
 hand soothingly on Ellen's heated brow, "I am 
 sorry and grieved, but not so much for Charles's act 
 as for the heartless unkindness of the girls under 
 my care. Do not distress yourself. Charles does 
 not suffer in my regard; and I the more admire 
 your sisterly love. But, when I think that these 
 girls whom I have led and counselled, whose hearts 
 I have tried to fill with the harmony of love, have 
 gone astray into folly and selfishness, my spirit is 
 troubled. I fear I never shall never be able 
 to win them, to the Good and True." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " exclaimed Ellen, forgetting her 
 reserve, forgetting every thing in her eager love, 
 "I think you will ; I am sure you can. Evelina 
 is giddy and vain, but I cannot think her heartless. 
 Alice Morton says she has a soul somewhere, only it 
 cannot breathe in the air of fashion and empty plea 
 sure. Dear Alice ! she is so good herself. She looks 
 sad when Evelina talks to Ada, and flatters her." 
 
 " Alice Morton and Evelina Cobb are two oppo- 
 sites," said Miss Newton. 
 
 " But I think," said Ellen, suddenly recollect 
 ing herself, " that she will grow better by-and-by. 
 
 4*
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE.. 
 
 After all," she said, with touching sadness, " why 
 should I expect to be loved ? I am poor and "plain- 
 looking, and reserved : no doubt Evelina thought I 
 was proud." 
 
 " Ellen," said Miss Newton, " you know I never 
 flatter my pupils ; but I see you have been making 
 yourself unhappy. Perhaps you need encourage 
 ment ; so I will tell you something that I hope will 
 convince you that the world respects merit and 
 virtue as well as wealth and beauty." 
 
 Ellen looked gratefully upon her teacher, as she 
 listened. 
 
 " You know, my dear child, your great object has 
 been to fit yourself for a teacher. One-half of your 
 school course is finished, and I have interested my 
 self to ascertain if any school was in want of a 
 teacher. I was not very successful here ; but per 
 haps you remember a tall, dark-looking gentleman, 
 who visited the seminary last week. He is the 
 Principal of the Graham Institute, and he casually 
 remarked that one of his female assistants would be 
 married as soon as her engagement with the school 
 expired. I showed him your written examinations, 
 and was happy to give him a testimonial of your 
 good character. He seemed perfectly satisfied, and 
 said he had no doubt you could Jaave the situation if 
 you wished. So I engaged it for you, providing 
 you consented. Come, Ellen, what do you think of 
 it?"
 
 CHARLES S PICTURE. 
 
 She lifted her eyes, full of happiness and grati 
 tude, and, springing from her chair, grasped Miss 
 Newton's hand in silence. 
 
 " What have I done to deserve all this ? " she said 
 at last. 
 
 "All that you could do," was the reply. u You 
 have been faithful and obedient, and I am pleased 
 with you. There," she said, as Ellen gave vent 
 to her gratitude and joy, " you may go to the school 
 room now ; I wish to see Evelina." 
 
 " One word more, if you please, Miss Newton, 
 you are not displeased with Charles ? " 
 
 "No, Ellen. It is true, I cannot approve the 
 course he has taken ; but I regard it as the expres 
 sion of a high-spirited sensibility, which, if rightly 
 curbed, would be a virtue." 
 
 " I fear, even now, you do not regard him as you 
 did before," said the loving sister. " I don't think 
 he ever would have painted that picture if Evelina 
 had not ridiculed me the first day of the term. You 
 should have seen him that night. His eyes flashed, 
 his hands were clenched, and he paced ths floor like 
 a caged lion. I was frightened out of my grief by 
 his anger ; and it required all grandfather's persua 
 sions to keep him from coming to see you directly." 
 
 Miss Newton saw that Ellen was distressing her 
 self with these unpleasant memories ; and with a smile 
 of authority she pointed towards the school-room, 
 while she herself sought Evelina in her chamber.
 
 84 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 y \ 
 
 The door was unlocked; and, receiving no an 
 swer to repeated knocks, she entered. At first she 
 saw no one in the disorderly room ; hut presently 
 there was a movement at one of the bay windows, 
 and a curtain was pulled slyly aside. Evelina rose 
 when she saw who it was, and placed a chair. Her 
 eyes were red and swollen with weeping. Miss 
 Newton augured well from this, and hoped that 
 she had been led to see her selfish pride, and repent 
 of it. But when she began to question her, and 
 received for her kind words only now and then 
 a sulky monosyllable, she knew that she mourned 
 only for mortification and loss of popularity. Long 
 the patient teacher sat, and spoke words of love and 
 counsel. She told Evelina that she should hang the 
 painting in the study-room, not to cause her use 
 less pain, but because she hoped the sight of it 
 would be a constant lesson, and exert a salutary 
 influence. Evelina received this information with 
 the same stolid indifference. Miss Newton went 
 away, hoping she had sown some seed on good 
 ground. Alas ! it was not good, but stony. 
 
 It was in the middle of the afternoon session be 
 fore the principal teacher once more took her place 
 at the desk. Her face was grave, but a half smile 
 of loving- kindness always played with the firm lines 
 around her mouth. 
 
 The picture was hung upon the wall. No stran 
 ger could have seen aught in it, save a work of
 
 CHARLES 3 PICTURE. 
 
 85 
 
 great merit and beauty; but to them it spoke vo 
 lumes of human love and passion. Miss Newton 
 did not let this opportunity pass without reminding 
 the girls, in her own quiet way, of their duties to 
 each other, and the necessity of that charity " which 
 suffereth long and is kind."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE TKUE POET. 
 
 As the last book disappeared in Alice's desk at 
 the close of the session, her seat-mate, Ellen, bent 
 towards her, and asked her if she would not like to 
 walk home with her. It was a warm day in the 
 later summer, and Alice readily consented, and said 
 she should ]be only too happy to go. " Let's go 
 ' cross-lots,' " said Ellen ; " for I want to talk to 
 you, and I don't want to meet any one." 
 
 They walked on some distance in silence. Ellen 
 seemed troubled, and Alice waited for her to begin 
 the conversation. By going across the meadows 
 they avoided the dusty road. The field-grass rose 
 up to kiss their feet ; the great trees threw their 
 cooling shadows across the path ; and the low, plain 
 tive tinkling of the cow-bell sounded in the dis 
 tance. Beyond the valley the church reared its 
 white front ; and its vane caught the slant sunbeams 
 like a halo of glory. Alice was a child of nature : 
 every bird and flower and sun-ray seemed to her 
 so many links of that great chain which is ever 
 drawing us nearer to heaven and God. " O God ! 
 I thank thee for this beautiful life ! " was the silent 
 thanksgiving of her heart. ,
 
 THE TRUE POET. 87 
 
 A low sob fell upon her ear ; and, looking up, she 
 saw that Ellen was weeping. 
 
 " I am afraid you think I am gloomy, Alice," said 
 she ; " but I have been sad all day. I wish I could 
 be cheerful and happy as you are." 
 
 i( That is because you looked on the ground, and 
 I looked up at the beautiful sunshine and the blue 
 sky." 
 
 " That will do for those who are rich and happy," 
 said Ellen. " Suppose you were poor, Alice, and 
 all your hopeful future hedged about with difficul 
 ties?" 
 
 " But I have been poor," said Alice. " My 
 mother was a widow, much poorer than yours, and 
 I am only a poor orphan now, and mean to earn my 
 own bread sometime. But what difficulties have 
 you ? Has any thing happened ? " 
 
 " No : only I feel just so. And I don't see any 
 hope of my ever being anybody. I suppose I am 
 ungrateful; for Miss Newton told me only to-day 
 that she had engaged a school for me, when I have 
 finished my studies." 
 
 " Why, Ellen Lee ! How can you be sad over 
 that news ! If it was me, I should be happy for a 
 week." 
 
 " And so was I when I first heard it ; but I'm 
 afraid it won't do me much good ! I shouldn't 
 wonder if I had to leave school, Alice. Mother's 
 health is so feeble, that it really makes my heart
 
 88 THE SHEAVED OF LOVE. 
 
 ache to leave her in the morning. Much as Fwant 
 to teach, I believe I shall give it up ; for 1 can't 
 see her kill herself." 
 
 " But can't something be done ?" said Alice. 
 "It is a pity to give it up, with the battle half 
 fought." 
 
 " No," said Ellen despondingly ; " there's no 
 help for it." 
 
 " And then again," said Ellen, " I don't know 
 as I should be contented to teach, if I could as well 
 as not. The fact is, I don't think I am fitted for it ; 
 there is too much cold practicability about it. I 
 like the ideal, the sunny, the imaginative. In truth, 
 Alice, I believe my true path lies in the walks of 
 literature. If I could be a writer, I should be 
 satisfied." 
 
 " But it plainly would not be your duty," said 
 Alice. 
 
 " Why not, pray ? " 
 
 " Because, do you not see that your mother looks 
 forward to you to aid her, and labors to place you 
 where you can gain a livelihood ? If you were 
 rich, it would be well enough ; but as it is, without 
 money, without literary friends, it would be a long 
 time before you could support yourself with your 
 pen." 
 
 "I know it," replied Ellen; "and that's just- 
 what I'm finding fault about. Because I am poor, 
 I must deny myself, when I would work ; but the
 
 THE TRUE POET. 89 
 
 rich can revel in idleness. Where is the justice 
 of this ? " 
 
 " Our lives are in the hands of our Maker," said 
 Alice. " Perhaps he sees you need the discipline 
 of trial. "Walk in the path of duty, and wait 
 patiently." 
 
 tc And is it my duty ? Is it my duty to crush 
 all these glowing aspirations, to give up the true 
 beauty, the breathing joy of poetry, for a cold 
 reality ? Must I live all my life long like Tan 
 talus ; for ever reaching for golden fruits and cool 
 ing water, and continually denied ? Say, Alice, can 
 this be my duty ? " 
 
 " No, my dear friend, it is not your duty to give up 
 all these ; but it is your duty, under present circum 
 stances, to live your poetry instead of writing it" 
 
 " Live my .poetry, Alice ? Pray explain." 
 
 " The sweetest poems, Ellen, are those which are 
 unwritten. You will find them in living characters, 
 in the lines which furrow the brows of suffering 
 women ; you will read them in the white locks of 
 toil-spent men. The brightest epic is a life of self- 
 sacrifice, and the sweetest lyric a lifetime of love." 
 
 " But there are enough in the world," said Ellen, 
 " who will not work. Dull plodders, who have no 
 aspirations above the level of the actual." 
 
 " N ot so, my friend. ' Labor,' says Carlyle, * is 
 the essence of all heroism.' We have no right to 
 lay our burdens on the shoulders of others."
 
 90 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 "Here we are," said Ellen, "at the half-way 
 stone. Let us sit down. I believe, Alice, you are 
 my good angel ; for you always encourage me with 
 some higher view of life. I wish I were as strong 
 as you. Will you tell me your idea of a true 
 poet?" 
 
 ' ' The true poet," said Alice, " is, to me, a great 
 soul, capable at once of high aspirations and simple 
 affections. The inner world is his home, and he 
 can read the mysteries of the veiled heart. One 
 need not necessarily write to be a poet. Poetry is 
 Love, and Love is God ; so he that loves becomes 
 like God, and is a poet. He who loves his brother, 
 and helps humanity everywhere ; who chooses the 
 path of duty, whether rough or flowery, and walks 
 in it thanking God, he is a poet." 
 
 " I can see, Alice," said Ellen, " that you mean 
 to tell me my duty. Well, I need it. I confess I 
 have felt envious of others, that I have grumbled at 
 the occupations which I deemed menial. When 1 
 milked the cow, or washed the dishes, I have thought 
 of the jewelled hands of my schoolmates, and mur 
 mured at my lot. Henceforth, I will try to live a 
 little poetry." 
 
 There was another silence, which Alice finally 
 broke by asking Ellen what situation Miss Newton 
 had secured for her. 
 
 " It is a vacancy in the Graham Institute. I ain 
 to teach Botany and Rhetoric, my favorite branches
 
 THE TRUE POET. 91 
 
 you know. But then," and the old sadness came 
 back to her face, " how I am going to keep at 
 school I don't know. Mother must have help, or 
 she will die." 
 
 " You must throw off despondency, and work. 
 If I could contrive a way to help you, would you 
 accept my aid ? " 
 
 " Any thing from you, dear Alice ! you are so 
 good. How I wish I were like you, a blessing to 
 every one ! " 
 
 Alice put her hand on Ellen's lips, and said, 
 " Goodby now : you will be better in the morn 
 ing ; and perhaps I shall have something to tell 
 you." 
 
 A new idea had entered Alice' s mind ; and she 
 proceeded to act upon it.
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 
 ALICE AND THE JUDGE. 
 
 WITH a light and happy heart, Alice crossed the 
 meadow, climbed over the huge stepping-stones, and 
 entered the road. She was happy, because she was 
 bound on a mission of benevolence. So absorbed was 
 she in her own thoughts, that she did not hear light 
 footsteps behind her, till a childish voice exclaimed, 
 " Oh ! is it you, Miss Alice ? I am so glad to see 
 you!" 
 
 Alice turned round. A pretty child, with rosy 
 cheeks, stood before her. Her bonnet had partly 
 fallen from her head. One plump hand held a basket, 
 filled with flowers and mosses ; while with the other 
 she held back her dog, who was trying to show his 
 joy by leaping on Alice with his great paws. 
 
 " Down, Bouncer ! Haven't you any manners ? 
 You must excuse him, Miss Alice ; for I rqally don't 
 think he knows any better. Father says he thinks 
 some dogs have souls. Do you, Miss Alice ? " 
 
 " I don't know, Nina. You must ask them." 
 
 "But they can't speak! " 
 
 " And consequently," said Alice, " we shall never 
 know whether they have souls or not. But where 
 have you been this afternoon, Nina ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I went down to the brook to see Edward
 
 ALICE AND THE JUD&E. 93 
 
 fish. But I felt so bad to see the pretty trout flap 
 ping on that dreadful hook, that I went over the 
 hill to get some mosses for my castle. See ! aren't 
 they pretty?" and the child drew up the bright 
 green mosses from her basket. 
 
 " They are very pretty, Nina. But where is your 
 castle?" 
 
 " Oh ! I'm building it at the foot of the apple-tree 
 in the orchard. I've made it out of gray bark ; and 
 this moss will fill up the cracks." 
 
 " I'm going down to your house now," said Alice, 
 " and I can stop and see it." 
 
 " Oh, I'm so glad ! " cried Nina delightedly. 
 "Then, perhaps, you will tell me how to make the 
 loopholes. Brother Edwarjl said I must have some. 
 Did you know my brother Edward had come home, 
 Alice ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and I suppose you are glad, are you 
 not?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said the child. " And he likes you ; 
 for he asked father who that young lady was that 
 sat opposite our pew on Sunday, and I told him it 
 was my sabbath teacher, and I loved her very much. 
 He said he thought he should too. Isn't he a 
 funny brother, Alice ? " 
 
 " You mustn't speak of these things, Nina. Your 
 brother did not mean that you should tell any one." 
 
 Judge Hall's splendid residence was surrounded 
 with extensive grounds. A broad avenue led to the
 
 94 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 house ; and the tall elms stretched their shadows 
 across the lawn. As they opened the gate, little 
 Freddy, the youngest child, ran to meet them ; for 
 he had seen Alice much, and learned to love her. 
 
 " Won't you come and look at my castle ? " said 
 Nina. 
 
 " No, not now," replied Alice. " I want to see 
 your father." 
 
 Alice's ring was answered by a noble-looking 
 young man, who invited her into the parlor. " My 
 father is occupied just at present," said he, "but will 
 be in soon." He introduced himself with graceful 
 ease, spoke of books, and foreign travel ; but Alice 
 could not help remembering Nina's words, and she 
 felt uncomfortable. He had spent three years at 
 the German Law School at Heidelberg ; and had 
 come back a polished and thoroughly educated man. 
 Much as Alice enjoyed his conversation, she felt re 
 lieved when Judge Halt came in and his son retired. 
 
 The judge was a corpulent, good-natured man. 
 His cheeks were as red as the rosy side of a win 
 ter's apple ; and his eyes were blue, the very color 
 of virtue. 
 
 Alice was a general favorite in the family, from 
 the judge, who always expressed vast partiality for 
 her, down to little Freddy, who remembered the 
 paper boats she had built for him, and the kites she 
 knew so well how to make. 
 
 "Well, Miss Morton," said he, "you must ex-
 
 ALICE AND THE JUDGE. 95 
 
 cuse me, but some law-papers detained me. 1 am 
 truly glad to see you ! " 
 
 " Thank you," said Alice. " I came to lay a pro 
 position before you, if you will be troubled with it." 
 
 The judge signified his willingness to be troubled. 
 
 " You know Ellen Lee, do you not ? " said Alice. 
 
 " "What, the Widow Lee's daughter ? Yes ; 
 and she is a fine girl, the finest I know except 
 one." 
 
 Alice would not notice the sly hint, but con 
 tinued : " Ellen's mother supports herself by her 
 needle ; and, now her son is away, she finds it hard 
 work to live. Ellen is very ambitious, and wishes 
 to be a teacher. She has a situation already offered 
 her, in case she finishes her studies, for she is the 
 best scholar in the seminary ; but her mother's 
 health is so poor, that, unless she can have aid, Ellen 
 will have to leave school altogether." 
 
 " How much would she need ? " interrupted the 
 judge. 
 
 "Oh! they never would accept charity, were it 
 never so delicate. I think I have a better way, if 
 you approve it. I think you told me some time ago 
 that you would like to get some one to give Nina 
 and Freddy single lessons, did you not ? " 
 
 " I did think some of it," replied he. 
 
 " Then, if you do wish such a one, let me beg you 
 to employ Ellen Lee. It would be doing a good 
 deed. She has an hour and a half at noon, which
 
 96 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 she could devote to this ; and it would help her so 
 much ! " 
 
 Alice's whole heart was in the work, and she was 
 unconscious of the earnestness of her manner. 
 
 "I declare/' said the judge admiringly, "you'd 
 make an extra pleader. I believe I shall surrender 
 at discretion." 
 
 " And may I tell Ellen to come ? " said Alice, 
 blushing. 
 
 " Yes : upon the whole, I guess you may," said 
 the judge. " If she can manage the children, it 
 will be a good thing for them." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you ! " said Alice. " I was 
 afraid you had engaged some one else. Ellen will 
 be so happy ! " 
 
 "But why did she not come herself? " inquired 
 the judge. 
 
 " She knows nothing about it," replied Alice. 
 " She was telling me of her troubles, and I thought 
 perhaps you might be willing to help her. It will 
 be a very pleasant surprise to her." 
 
 " Well, you may tell her to come to-morrow noon, 
 and I will see her. And now what shall I do for 
 you, Miss Alice ? " 
 
 " You' will please receive my thanks for your 
 kind favor," said Alice. 
 
 " But do you never think of yourself, child ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Mr. Hall ; I am selfish in many 
 ways. I am very exacting about the love of my
 
 ALICE AND THE JUDGE. 97 
 
 friends. If I do any thing for them, I want a great 
 deal of love in payment. I have not yet learned to 
 give, hoping for nothing again." 
 
 Alice rose to go. 
 
 " I am a blunt man," said the judge, " and my 
 life has lost its morning flush. I cannot trust men 
 as I did once ; but I believe the Lord made an angel 
 when he made you. May he keep your heart from 
 every shadow of trial ! " 
 
 " I thank you," said Alice ; " but I pray not so. 
 Ask him rather to afflict me as he seeth good ; for, 
 without the discipline of sorrow, the soul may never 
 know its strength, or unfold its wings." 
 
 " A strange girl, and too thoughtful," said the 
 judge to himself. 
 
 Edward Hall sat upon the piazza as she passed 
 out, and begged so politely to attend her to the 
 seminary, that she could not refuse. 
 
 " I think it is perfectly scandalous," said Evelina 
 Cobb, who was peeping through the blinds, when 
 Edward took leave of Alice at the gate. 
 
 " I always said there was mischief under all that 
 girl's sanctimonious manners," said Jane Swift. 
 
 " Truly, ' there is that maketh himself poor, yet 
 hath great riches,' " said the judge to himself, as he 
 sat in his library that night. 
 
 " What did you say, father," said Edward. 
 
 " I was thinking of Alice Morton," said his father 
 " She is a poor orphan ; but the wealth of her mind 
 5
 
 98 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 and heart is inexhaustible. Happy they who . are 
 favored with her self-forgetting friendship." 
 
 ft I think her a true lady," said his son. " I have 
 not met with such great dignity and modesty among 
 the most polished women of Europe."
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 LIZZIE'S JEWELS. 
 
 " IT is impossible, Emily," said Mr. Whiting, as 
 he rose to go. " I cannot spare the money to-day." 
 
 "But it is only five hundred dollars," said the 
 lady fretfully, as she balanced her spoon on the 
 edge of her cup. " Lizzie has set her heart on 
 wearing those ornaments to-morrow night. It 
 wouldn't hurt you to gratify the child in such a 
 trifle." 
 
 " But it would hurt me," said her husband. " I 
 have a heavy note to pay to-day, and it will require 
 all my means to meet it. Next week, perhaps, I 
 could let you have it." 
 
 " Just a week too late," said the lady pettishly. 
 "For my part, I don't think you need to refuse. 
 You don't think any thing of paying out a large 
 sum of money when the girls' school-bills come in, 
 and you always settle Fred's enormous accounts 
 without a word. And you can pay two hundred 
 dollars for a gold watch for Alice ; but, when your 
 own daughter asks a favor, she must be denied." 
 
 Mr. Whiting's brow clouded. " I have always 
 tried to satisfy every reasonable desire," said he ; 
 " but I have told you why I cannot meet this de 
 mand. As for the girls' school-bills, they shall be
 
 100 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 paid as long as I have a cent. They are buying 
 what is worth far more than jewels, education 
 and character." 
 
 " A vast sight of good their school will do them ! " 
 said his wife. " They will come back as prim as old 
 maids, and as awkward as bean-poles." 
 
 " Better so," was the reply, f ' than to be fashion 
 able flirts ; " an.d, thus saying, Mr. Whiting took his 
 hat from the hall, and left the house. 
 
 The lady still balanced, her spoon on the edge of 
 her cup, and drummed the carpet with her foot ; 
 while her vexation grew stronger every minute. 
 The chocolate was cooling, and the toast was cold ; 
 and still Lizzie had not made her appearance at the 
 breakfast-table. Mrs. Whiting pulled the bell, and 
 sent for her. No morning greetings passed between 
 the mother and her stylish daughter ; but Lizzie's 
 first inquiry was, " Well, mother, what did pa say 
 about the jewels ? " 
 
 " Perhaps, after all, it would be as well for you 
 to wear your pearls to-morrow night," said her 
 mother, when she had explained. 
 
 " I won't do any such thing," said Lizzie ; " I've 
 worn those pearls till I'm tired of the sight of them. 
 Louis Melville will be there, and I won't have Isa 
 bella Howard outdo me." 
 
 Mrs. Whiting declared that such things always 
 gave her a dreadful headache, and retired to her 
 room.
 
 LIZZIE'S JEWELS. 101 
 
 " I will have them," said Lizzie, as she rose from 
 her chair, and placed her foot firmly upon the floor. 
 " If begging won't bring them, perhaps teasing will. 
 Father never refused me any thing yet, and I don't 
 believe he will now." 
 
 The cloud was still upon Mr. Whiting's brow as 
 he sat down to dinner. Lizzie was very pleasant 
 and thoughtful, : for she could be good-natured 
 when it suited her convenience. The unwonted 
 kindness of his daughter lifted the shadow some 
 what from the face of her too indulgent father ; for 
 he did not suspect that she was selfish, even in her 
 kindness. In truth, he had almost forgotten the 
 morning's scene, in his business troubles. The fail 
 ure of a heavy firm which was indebted to him had 
 rendered it very difficult for him to meet his pay 
 ments." 
 
 "Father," said Lizzie, as he pushed his chair 
 away from his almost untasted dinner, "wont you 
 please buy me those jewels ? " 
 
 The cloud settled again upon her father's face. 
 
 " I cannot to-day, Lizzie. Would you have them 
 at the risk of your father's credit ? " 
 
 " I don't see how five hundred dollars can affect 
 a wealthy man like you. Other girls have every 
 thing they want, and I don't see why I cant." 
 
 " Lizzie, listen to me," said her father. " I will 
 explain the whole matter to you, and then if you 
 still desire the jewels you shall have them. I have
 
 102 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 confidence enough in your judgment ; and I throw 
 the decision entirely on your good sense. There is 
 a heavy firm out West," continued he, " who have 
 recently failed. I held a note of theirs for a large 
 sum, and I was depending on this to meet my own 
 regular payments. Others have suffered from the 
 same cause, so that a general pressure is felt among 
 business men. Those who can pass this crisis and 
 redeem their notes at the bank will come out doubly 
 strong ; but those who cannot will find their credit 
 shaken. Now, this money which you want may pos 
 sibly help me a great deal. If money is easy, I can 
 stand without difficulty ; but, if- not, this five hun 
 dred dollars might supply the very deficiency in 
 point. Now I am sure, Lizzie, you will answer 
 like a true-minded girl. Let my daughter respect 
 herself, and let the foolish fancy go." 
 
 Mr. Whiting's mild blue eyes were fixed upon 
 his daughter's face ; but Lizzie never looked up, but 
 kept on tracing out the figure on the carpet with her 
 foot. He thought, perhaps, it would be well to 
 leave her alone, that she might not decide hastily. 
 
 " Lizzie," said he, " I am going out a few mo 
 ments. I shall expect your answer when. I return. 
 Remember that I never refused you any thing that I 
 could rightly give ; and think, also, how much de 
 pends on your decision." 
 
 Mr. Whiting did not once doubt that Lizzie would 
 be true to her better nature. He did not know that
 
 LIZZIE'S JEWELS. 103 
 
 the root of selfishness and the fibres of vanity strike 
 deeper even than duty or filial love. 
 
 Lizzie rose from the table, and went to the glass. 
 r< It is too bad ! " said she, as she smoothed back her 
 hair from her temples ; " those jewels would just 
 suit my style. I don't believe he would know the 
 difference in a month. And then Isabella Howard 
 says that all fathers are alike. They are always 
 pleading poverty. Yes, yes, I must have them ! " 
 she repeated to herself. " I will have them. I can't 
 help it if it is wrong," she replied, to the faint 
 whisper of her stifled conscience. " Louis Melville 
 will be there, and I must have them ! " 
 
 Mr. Whiting's step sounded in the hall, and every 
 footfall made Lizzie's heart beat faster. She felt 
 that she was about to degrade herself, and disappoint 
 him. 
 
 " Well, Lizzie ? " 
 
 " I wish that is, I thought, I have decided 
 to have the jewels," she faltered, with her eyes still 
 fixed upon the carpet. She dared not look up to 
 meet the reproach she knew was in his gaze. 
 
 " My daughter ! " What a world of tender sad 
 ness, of disappointed love, was in those words ! 
 Silently, and with a strange heaviness of heart, he 
 left her there, and closed the street-door behind 
 him. 
 
 That afternoon saw Lizzie Whiting the possessor 
 of the coveted jewels ; but the memory of that sad
 
 104 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 voice seemed to rob them of half their lustre. Her 
 fashionable mother praised her tact, and said she had 
 managed it finely. Her young lady friends flat 
 tered and envied her, and that was all. 
 
 But was it all ? 
 
 That afternoon saw Mr. Whiting weary and dis 
 couraged. With his utmost endeavors, he still 
 lacked somewhat of the sum required. His paper 
 had never been dishonored, and the very thought 
 was madness. He was obliged to do what he never 
 had done before, borrow money at a ruinous inte 
 rest to save his credit at the bank. 
 
 And this was all. But was- it all ? Was it no 
 thing that a father's faith in his child was shaken ? 
 was it nothing that the daughter, whose father's fond 
 indulgence should have met the reward of sympathy 
 and love, had given him back only a selfish ingrati 
 tude ? It is true that the money might not have 
 saved Mr. Whiting from his embarrassments ; but, 
 oh ! how the memory of a fond child's loving self- 
 sacrifice would have lightened the heavy heart he 
 bore home with him that night ! 
 
 Who shall blame him if bitter thoughts were in 
 his mind ? It was just dusk, and the laborers were 
 going home with light hearts from their work. Mr. 
 Whiting thought of the homely hearths made plea 
 sant for them by household mirth and childish 
 laughter ; and then, turning the picture, he saw his 
 own cheerless rooms, where even the sunlight could
 
 LIZZIE'S JEWELS. 105 
 
 not penetrate, lest it should fade the velvet furniture 
 and costly carpets. Even love and tenderness were 
 banished, because they were too common and un- 
 genteel. Fashion and folly had plucked all the 
 sweet fruits of his life, and thrown him the empty 
 husks. 
 
 Mr. "Whiting ate his supper from a service of the 
 finest of Sevres china ; but, for all that, his heart 
 was heavy, and he would gladly have exchanged it 
 for the poor laborer's earthen bowl, for but a tithe of 
 the aid and sympathy he received. How rich, and 
 yet how poor ! Splendid misery at home, a cold 
 world beyond ! A nervous, gloomy wife at home, 
 a smiling, fashionable wife in society ! A selfish, 
 vain daughter at home, a gay, beautiful belle in 
 society ! What was life to him, but an empty 
 gilding ? 
 
 . He took out his letters, and singled out one with 
 a dainty white envelope : it was from Alice, 
 and was filled with words of gratitude and affection. 
 And, what was best, he knew that it was not mere 
 lip-service. He remembered how many times the 
 ready hands had done him service ; and how 
 many times the sweet voice had said, " Dear Uncle 
 William ! " Alice had sent her best love to black 
 John, and asked Uncle William to tell Content that 
 she had bought a bright bandanna to give her when 
 she came home. 
 
 Mr. Whiting had been restless and uneasy all the 
 
 5*
 
 106 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 evening. His wife and daughter were away, and 
 the great rooms seemed desolate. " I have a great 
 mind," he said to himself, " to go into the kitchen 
 and see John and Content." So he passed through 
 the long passage, and knocked at the door. 
 
 Content opened it. 
 
 " Lor' bress us, Massa Whiting ! am any thing 
 de matter ? " 
 
 " No, Content ! I've only come to see you." 
 
 " Thank ye," said she, dropping a short courtesy, 
 and brushing the bottom of a chair vigorously with her 
 apron. "Ole John just done been reading. Better 
 stop now," she added, in a loud whisper to John. 
 
 "No, no! go on," said Mr. Whiting. 
 
 John read in his broken way, with his finger 
 pointing to the words as he spoke, " There is 
 that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing ; there is 
 that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches." 
 
 Mr. Whiting listened, half in awe. It seemed 
 like a voice from heaven. The proud man felt 
 humbled before a poor unlettered black. He did 
 not like to think of it, but told John he had better 
 put away the book, as he had something to tell 
 them ; and then he delivered Alice's message. 
 
 The tears stood in John's eyes, and he said 
 nothing ; but Content was loud in her joy. 
 
 (f May de good Lor' bress de dear chile ! " said 
 she. " He done make her an angel already ! " 
 
 Mr. Whiting thought perhaps she was right.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE HUSKING. . 
 
 " WON'T it be splendid, girls ? " exclaimed Emma 
 Weston, as she bounded into the school-room. 
 " Judge Hall is going to give a husking party next 
 Friday night, and we're all invited." 
 
 " I don't think it is just fit work for young ladies," 
 said the nice Lucy Howard. 
 
 " Nor I either," said some others ; " but we 
 always have such a good time at the judge's." 
 
 The autumn had come, and thrown its gold and 
 purple glory over the forests and hill-sides. The 
 brown nuts dropped in the woods, the grey 
 squirrels were providing for the winter, and the 
 evening cricket sang a shriller melody in the grass. 
 It was the joyous harvest-time, the season of New 
 England merry-making. The apples were gathered 
 in the orchards ; and the fields were bare and deso 
 late, save where some golden pumpkin turned its 
 cheek to the noonday sun. 
 
 Judge Hall was a New-Englander of the good old 
 stock, and he delighted in reviving the customs of 
 our forefathers. He believed in Thanksgiving cheer, 
 and subscribed to Christmas apples, cider, and 
 chicken pies ; and never a year passed that he did
 
 108 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE 
 
 not invite the youth of the village to a famous 
 husking. 
 
 Friday evening came, and the girls, one by one, 
 gathered in the dressing-room, ready for departure. 
 
 " Alice ! Alice ! where are you ? " The voice was 
 loud and petulant. 
 
 " Here I am, Cousin Ada ; but please don't 
 make so much noise, for Lily's head aches badly." 
 . " Come," said Ada, "here we've been hunting 
 for you half an hour, and you're not ready yet. I 
 declare," said she, " its enough to provoke a saint ! 
 Here you are plodding round, and not even dressed. 
 You grow more and more old-maidish every day." 
 
 " Please, cousin, don't make so much noise," 
 said Alice pleadingly. " I'm afraid that Lily is really 
 sick." 
 
 Lily lay hot and feverish. Her brovr was heated 
 and flushed. Ada thought perhaps she might be 
 sick, after all. 
 
 " I believe I ought not to go," said Alice. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! go by all means," said Lily ; " I 
 wouldn't deprive you of so much pleasure. I suspect 
 it is nothing more than a cold. I sat by the window 
 last night, and my lungs feel very much oppressed. 
 You couldn't do me any good if you stay ; for I 
 shall retire immediately, and try to sleep it off." 
 
 " As true as I live, I haven't got any thing decent 
 to wear," said Evelina Cobb, as she pulled dress 
 after dress out of her trunk.
 
 THE HUSKING. 109 
 
 < t Why don't you wear your new muslin ? " ven 
 tured Jane Swift. 
 
 " Horror ! I wouldn't be seen with it. It isn't 
 an evening dress. On the whole, I believe I'll wear 
 my pink silk." So the old pink silk was brought 
 up from the bottom of the trunk, where it had lain 
 waiting, as Evelina had before said, till she should 
 be invited to some ball. Jane ventured to suggest 
 that she didn't think it was just suitable to husk 
 corn in ; but Evelina declared she had no doubt 
 there would be many city people there, and she 
 wanted them to know she was somebody. 
 
 " I know the true reason why you are so particu 
 lar/' said Jane. " Edward Hall will be there. But 
 you don't stand any chance if Alice Morton goes, for 
 they say he adores her." 
 
 " They say ! Who says ? " 
 
 " Why, they, of course. Not any one in par 
 ticular, they" 
 
 The harvest moon hung low in the sky as the 
 two girls left the seminary. Beyond the brow of 
 the hill, they could see the windows of the judge's 
 house brilliantly illuminated; and the sound of 
 music and festivity came to their ears. 
 
 Little Nina stood at the head of the stairs as the 
 young ladies passed in. 
 
 " Has Miss Ellen come ? I want to see Miss 
 Ellen." 
 
 Ellen came forward to speak to her little pupil.
 
 110 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 Nina's spirits were exuberant, and she could hardly 
 command her tongue to tell her teacher that her 
 father wished to see her in the library. 
 
 " What can it be ? " thought Ellen, half in con 
 sternation. She could think of no neglected duty, 
 and concluded to put an end to suspense by answer 
 ing the call immediately. 
 
 The great barns were hung with lanterns, and the 
 corn was thrown in great heaps on the floor. The 
 girls quickly appropriated the stools, and commenced 
 the novel work with a good will. Some kind hand 
 seemed to have plentifully sprinkled the heaps with 
 red ears, and much confusion and many kisses was 
 the result. 
 
 It was a pretty scene. Bright faces were radiant 
 with smiles ; nimble fingers robbed the golden ears 
 of their rough coats ; and music and lively talk 
 made every thing cheerful and happy. It made 
 Alice think of her own home, and brought to her 
 mind the pleasant huskings and apple-gatherings 
 of long ago. To most of the girls, however, it was 
 a new scene; and they seemed to enjoy it highly. 
 Alice would have been very happy, had not the 
 thought of Lily saddened her ; and she almost 
 blamed herself for coming. 
 
 " Miss Lee," said Edward, addressing Ellen, " can 
 you tell me who that girl is, standing by Miss Mor 
 ton?" 
 
 " That is Evelina Cobb," replied Ellen.
 
 THE HUSKING. Ill 
 
 "What a contrast ! " ejaculated her companion, 
 well he might say so. Evelina's showy dress 
 simpeiiug airs appeared in all their deformity, 
 beside Alice's neat dress and simple manners. 
 
 Towards the latter part of the evening, Ellen 
 drew Alice aside, and told her of her interview with 
 the judge. It seemed that he had interested him 
 self for Charles, and, by his influence, induced other 
 gentlemen to acknowledge his talents, and give him 
 employment. And now these gentlemen, patrons 
 of art, and eager to encourage home genius, wished 
 to send him to Europe to finish his studies : while 
 be copied famous pictures by their order. 
 
 " It is owing to you, indirectly," said Ellen ; " for, 
 if I had not come here to teach, the judge would 
 not have so interested himself for Charles. How 
 shall I ever thank you ? " 
 
 " By saying nothing about such a poor little favor. 
 But do you think your mother will be willing to 
 have him go ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I think she will. Of course, it will 
 cause her much anxiety ; but then she knows it has 
 always been a cherished hope of Charles, that he 
 might some day walk the soil hallowed by the tread 
 of the world's great painters, and drink a new in 
 spiration from the very fountain-head of art. O 
 Alice ! it is a glorious thought ! I wish I might 
 once breathe that air ; sanctified by ages of song, 
 and deified by the very essence of heroism and
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 poesy." Carried away by her enthusiasm, Ellen 
 was unconscious of the company, and unmindful 
 that curious eyes might be upon her. Her eyes 
 glowed with impassioned fire, her hand was raised, 
 in the force of her feelings ; and she stood for the 
 moment like a speaking muse, pleading the cause 
 she loved. 
 
 Alice was moved. She acknowledged the power, 
 the genius of her companion ; but her feelings were 
 under the control of reason and duty. Not that she 
 could not be enthusiastic, not that poetry and pas 
 sion had no inspiration for her ; but because Reason 
 told her that constant longing after things beyond 
 our reach was both a weakness and a breach of 
 duty, when so much of good lay un wrought at our 
 very feet. 
 
 There is no being so inquisitive as the student of 
 character. Edward Hall was one of these. He 
 delighted to trace in the workings of the face, and 
 in the conversation of those about him, the peculiar 
 motives which give a bias to the mind, and a form 
 to the daily life. All this evening, he had wandered 
 from group to group, drawing out this one, and 
 studying another, and had been an involuntary lis 
 tener to our friends' conversation. 
 
 " I do wish, Ellen," said Alice, " that circum 
 stances favored your wishes ; but you must control 
 yourself. Gifts never came by the mere wishing ; 
 and Italy never will come to you. If your whole
 
 THE HUSKING. 113 
 
 soul is bent on this end, you will accomplish it ; but 
 you must give up rhapsodies, and expend that ner 
 vous energy in working for your object, instead of a 
 mere effervesence. But I do hope, my dear friend," 
 and Alice's voice sank to a deeper tone, "that 
 life has some higher aim for you than a mere vision 
 of the land of song. The ends of our existence are 
 only met when a noble labor sanctifies life as a 
 means to the great Hereafter, the infinite Progres 
 sion. Let your genius be a gift upon the altar, 
 a constant incense from a pure heart ; so that you 
 may say at last, e I have fought a good fight, I have 
 kept the faith, I have finished my course. Hence 
 forth there is laid up for me a crown of glory.' " 
 
 " Quoting Scripture, as I live," said Lucy How 
 ard, as she passed by them. The last place, I should 
 think, for that." 
 
 But Ellen was unmindful of all. A new idea 
 had occurred to her, and she grasped it. 
 
 " Do you believe, Alice," she said, " do you know 
 that we can do what we will do ? " 
 
 " I believe it firmly," said Alice, " if we have de 
 cision and energy." 
 
 "Then," said Ellen, "if I live, I will go to 
 Italy." 
 
 Alice linked her arm in Ellen's, and walked away. 
 Just then a profusion of flaxen hair and a pair of 
 cold blue eyes intercepted Edward's vision, and a 
 voice exclaimed, " Good evening, Mr. Hall ! "
 
 114 THE SHEA.VES OF LOVE. 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Cobb," said Edward coldly. 
 
 " "What a beautiful entertainment you have made 
 here ! " said Evelina. " I never attended a husking 
 before, and I'm perfectly enchanted." 
 
 Edward smiled to himself, as he remembered 
 having heard her declare to Ada that she thought 
 it was one of the meanest affairs she ever saw, and 
 not decent for genteel people." 
 
 " Miss Cobb," said he, " I am a student of law ; 
 and the question has come up to me this evening, 
 whether, if a person testifies ( yes ' and 'no * on the 
 same subject, his word should be taken as reliable. 
 Excuse me, but I would like to know what you 
 think about it." 
 
 JEvelina, who did not see the hidden sarcasm in 
 his words, felt nattered, and answered, 
 
 " I don't know much about ' law,' but I should 
 think not." 
 
 Edward replied by reciting a couplet he had com 
 posed the year before : 
 
 " The double tongue is like the double face, 
 Alike a condemnation and disgrace." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said Evelina, u I remember those lines 
 very well. I have read Byron so much, that I know 
 him all by heart. Do you like Byron, Mr. Hall ! " 
 
 Edward saw the shallowness of the stream he 
 was fording, and thought he might venture a little 
 deeper.
 
 THE HUSKING. 115 
 
 " Yes," he continued, " Byron will do very -well. 
 Are you fond of poetry ? " 
 
 Oh ! excessively. Poetry is one of the fine arts. 
 How thankful we ought to be to those who invented 
 it!" 
 
 "We ought, indeed," said Edward, with pro 
 found gravity. " Your remarks are just. Poetry is 
 a great discovery, and will go down to posterity hand 
 in hand with the invention of gunpowder and the 
 printing-press. But I believe the world disputes 
 about the author of the invention. Pray, what is 
 your opinion, Miss Cobb ? " 
 
 Edward was interested. He had truly found an 
 interesting study ; while his poor victim believed 
 the very pain he meant but a pleasure and a tri 
 umph. 
 
 " I think it was got up in Greece," she answered. 
 " They were quite skilful, I believe, in putting 
 words together." 
 
 Edward was delighted with his success. "Oh, 
 yes ! " he continued, " it was a perfectly mechanical 
 thing. If legends speak correctly, they managed it 
 in this way. In those days they had no railroad : 
 but they had a sort of telegraph between the earth 
 and Mount Parnassus, by which the poets could 
 send up requests, and the muses return an answer. 
 So, when one of the old bards wanted to write a 
 poem, he just sent up a message on this ' thread of 
 discourse,' and they sent back the needed words.
 
 116 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 It "was very much like setting types. Excuse ine," 
 said he, as he noticed that one of his friends was 
 nearly choking with mirth, " allow me, Miss Cobb, 
 to introduce to you Mr. White." Mr. White forced 
 back the laugh with a great effort, and the fun- 
 loving Edward left them to continue the conversa 
 tion he had broken so abruptly. 
 
 " It is too bad, Edward," said a friend who stood 
 by him. " You were not only rude, but positively 
 unkind." 
 
 " My dear friend," said Edward, " what sent that 
 dark trouble into your blue eyes ? Don't you know, 
 that, where people have no sensibilities, they cannot 
 be blunted? And, when I see folly and pretension 
 passing current among those of real worth', I make 
 it a point to unmask and expose it." 
 
 The night was warm and cloudless. A walk 
 through the grounds was proposed, and many eagerly 
 rose to respond to the call. Edward was conscious 
 that many eyes were upon him ; but he passed by 
 the gay dresses and jewelled hands, and, seeking out 
 Alice, begged leave to accompany her. 
 
 The harvest moon still threw its silver glory over 
 the quiet earth; the dew sparkled in the grass like 
 lost crystals ; and the air was still and waveless, as 
 though it said, " Hush ! " 
 
 " Would," said Edward, " that our lives might 
 flow as calmly into the great future ! What is the 
 use of living ? what is the use of striving ? There
 
 THE HUSKING. 117 
 
 is no certainty save death. Miss Morton " said 
 he, with a sudden energy, " do you believe in love 
 and in faith ? " 
 
 With a half-timid glance, as if she feared a nega 
 tive, she answered, " Yes : do not you ? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " I do ; but I wanted, to 
 strengthen my belief by hearing an avowal of yours. 
 After all, the simple trust of one loving spirit is 
 worth more than all the philosophies of men. Ger 
 many is a poor place in which to learn faith, Miss 
 Morton." 
 
 Alice said she hoped the theories of dreamers had 
 not shaken his trust in his fathers' God. 
 
 " You are severe," he replied. " There is some 
 thing in this you style ' theory,' which, I confess, 
 holds me as my fathers' faith never did." 
 
 " I was none too severe, I think. It is because 
 these dreams of the German mystics lead youth 
 astray from active faith and duty, that I so much 
 dread their influence. They fasten on the mind 
 while it is not strong enough to resist, and shipwreck 
 faith on the rocks of a barren philosophy."' 
 
 Edward looked at her in surprise. " Pray, where 
 did you learn all this ? " 
 
 Alice smiled. " I have read German somewhat ; 
 and this peculiar form of thought appears so plainly 
 in every thing they write, that I could not avoid a 
 knowledge of it, even if I would." 
 
 " And you disapprove it ? " continued her com-
 
 118 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 panion. " But all things are mysterious, no one 
 has told us concerning a future life." 
 
 " A divine voice whispers to us/' said Alice, 
 " ' The kingdom of heaven is within you.' " 
 
 Edward was silent for some time : at last he said, 
 "I confess I have given these ideas too much scope. 
 Will you teach me faith, Miss Morton? I could 
 not fail to be an apt scholar under your instruction." 
 
 Once more Alice smiled, the same old quiet 
 smile. Edward noticed it. 
 
 '* You think me childish ? " said he. 
 
 " No ! oh, no ! " said Alice. " I was only think 
 ing how strange it was, that you, who have sat at 
 the feet of the world's teachers and divines, and felt 
 the very droppings of wisdom ; and, more than .all, 
 lived for so many years in the light of God's love 
 and blessing, that you, I say, should come to me 
 and ask for faith. It is a paradox. I am a child in 
 argument, Mr. Hall." 
 
 " And, therefore, ' the greatest in the kingdom 
 of heaven,' " was the reply. " I will confess to you 
 that there are times when all the lore of the schools 
 is folly to me ; and I could throw myself at the feet 
 of a loving disciple like you and learn the alphabet. 
 I was fortunate enough to hear your recent conver 
 sation with Miss Lee. I am proud of my country 
 women. Their sound good sense is the safeguard 
 of the American people." 
 
 They walked slowly back to the house. The
 
 THE HUSKING. 119 
 
 barns were deserted ; but a bountiful entertainment 
 awaited the guests in the dining-room. Judge Hall 
 literally carried out the old New England customs. 
 No cakes or ices met their view ; but huge turkeys, 
 cold meats, and pies occupied their places, to the 
 astonishment of " eyes polite." 
 
 The light burned dimly in the chamber as Alice 
 entered it after her return from the party. A quick 
 cry of alarm escaped her lips as she saw Lily's 
 flushed cheeks, and listened to her delirious words. 
 She still lay as she had thrown herself down in her 
 tight dress. Very tenderly Alice undressed her, 
 smoothed the pillow, and tried to calm her excited 
 mind ; but Lily did not recognize her. 
 
 " I wonder where Alice is ! " she would say. " I 
 wish Alice would come ! They have left me alone." 
 
 " No, Lily ; here I am, here is Alice. Dear, 
 dear Lily, don't you know me ? " pleaded Alice. 
 
 " No, I don't know any of it. J'ai, tu as, il a" 
 she muttered. " I can't recite it. Alice used to 
 love me once, go away, and let Alice come." 
 
 Alice reproached herself over and over again for 
 leaving her. She smoothed the pillow once more, 
 and bathed the poor girl's head. The cooling drops 
 seemed to calm her. 
 
 With sudden hope springing up in her heart, Alice 
 leaned forward. " You know me now, dear Lily ? " 
 
 A smile flitted over her face. " Mother ! " she 
 said, and sank into a broken slumber.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE FADED F L O W E B. 
 
 THE closing of a young life is like the closing of 
 a flower. As the delicate petals fold over its heart 
 when the darkness is abroad, and the chill night- 
 winds blow, so the eyelids close to all the gloom and 
 vain glories of this earth. Happy that spirit which, 
 like the flower, has sent up its best fragrance for 
 Heaven, and kept its holiest shrine pure and un 
 spotted from the world. So pure, so calm and 
 holy, is death to the earnest soul. As the flower 
 closes at night to open again in the broad light of 
 to-morrow's sun, so our human blossoms shut their 
 weary eyelids upon " the valley of the shadow," to 
 open the eyelids of the spirit in the blessed "man 
 sions of our Father's house." 
 
 Lily was dying. Loving hearts could no longer 
 deceive themselves with a hope. Day by day they 
 watched her growing paler and thinner, as the crim 
 son flush of fever abated. The fire was going out 
 on the hearth of life. The delirium had passed ; 
 and she lay in a dreamy exhaustion, as if, half-disen 
 thralled, she had caught a glimpse of the inner 
 glory. 
 
 A hush settled over the school, and loud voices 
 and bounding footsteps died into a softened murmur
 
 THE FADED FLOWER. 1SJ1 
 
 as they passed the door of the sick room. They 
 knew that there Death and Life played a fearful 
 game of shuttlecock, and that Death had almost won. 
 
 It was the afternoon of a clear October day. Lily 
 lay propped up by pillows, her cheek blanched by 
 suffering, but patient, as she always was. The doc 
 tor had just been encouraging her by cheering 
 words ; but for an answer Lily only shook her head, 
 and pointed upward. Mrs. Gushing had been early 
 called to the bedside of her child, and she had 
 watched and prayed as none but an idolizing mother 
 can. Rising, and following the doctor to the door, 
 she exclaimed, " Doctor ! cannot you give me some 
 hope ? oh ! I pray you I implore you give me 
 some hope ! " " While there is life there is hope," he 
 answered. " Which means you have none," said Mrs. 
 Gushing, in a voice of despair. " Oh, my Father ! 
 my punishment is greater than I can bear ! " 
 
 The good doctor turned round, that she might not 
 perceive the unusual moisture in his eyes. " Whom 
 the Lord loveth he chasteneth," said he. 
 
 " Yes : I am an alien from Him. I disobeyed the 
 command, f Little children, keep yourselves from 
 idols.' But, oh ! I cannot give her up, doctor ! I 
 cannot ! Will he break the bruised reed ? " 
 
 The agony of the appeal, the grief of the heart- 
 stricken mother, were too much for the good man's 
 philosophy ; he felt the tears coming, and, hastily 
 pressing her hand, bade her " good-day," and de-
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 parted. "When he had gone, Mrs. Gushing sat down 
 in the upper hall, and gave way to her grief. 
 
 The flood, long pent up, will burst forth at last. 
 Then she calmed herself, prayed earnestly for 
 strength, and went back to the bedside of her 
 departing child. 
 
 Alice sat by her, engaged in earnest conversation. 
 Lily never tired of her ; for Alice's sound, practical 
 piety and Christian hope were just what her fainting 
 soul needed. Alice had been talking to her of 
 heaven, of the " Good Shepherd's " love. Mrs. 
 Gushing paused on the threshold, as she caught a 
 vision of Lily's saint-like countenance. A look of 
 holy joy beamed like a dawning light upon her face : 
 her mother clasped her hands involuntarily, as if to 
 hold a treasure that was escaping from her. " You 
 have been weeping, mother," said she ; " oh ! why 
 will you distress yourself? Do you not see that I 
 am happy ? Dear mother ! I love you so much ! 
 Shall you be very sorry when I am gone ? " 
 
 The old rushing flood in the mother's heart rose 
 up again, and overflowed her eyes. Her only reply 
 was a shower of passionate kisses. " Listen, mother," 
 said Lily : " Alice has been telling me of the angels, 
 of their purity and love ; and, as I listened, her 
 voice, so soft and low, seemed to me like the rust 
 ling of their wings ; and her eyes did not seem like 
 Alice's, but like a spirit's, mild and earnest, looking 
 down upon me full of divine pity. I am a poor,
 
 THE FADED FLOWliB. 123 
 
 weak, human child, and 1 forgot Alice ; and her low 
 talking seemed to me like the words of my angel- 
 friend, and I thought I was in heaven. I will come 
 for you when the sun is setting," said she, " for the 
 gates of heaven open wider, and let out a whole 
 flood of glory ; I will come for you then, and you 
 shall pass directly in at the portals. Watch and 
 pray. Behold ! I come quickly." The tears rained 
 over the mother's face ; it seemed as though the 
 mournful affliction were really come. " I believe 
 she will come, mother," repeated Lily, " and I want 
 to talk to you now while I can. When I am gone 
 to heaven you will be very lonely : there will be no 
 voice to say ' mother,' no daughter to pray for ; the 
 books in my little library will be unread, and my 
 harp will be silent. This must not be. You must 
 have another daughter to take my place. I love 
 Alice as a sister. You love her. Will you not let 
 her be your child ? and I will be her sister in 
 heaven, and watch over you both. Shall it not be 
 so, mother ? Alice has no mother, and you will 
 have no child. Will you not take her, mother, for 
 the sake of your lost Lily ? " Then, joining their 
 hands, and looking at them fondly, " That is right," 
 she said; "you will not love me the less for loving 
 Alice ; and, when she plays upon my harp, you will 
 think of me and the golden harps of the angels." 
 Alice wept: she who had been so long motherless 
 realized all the fond blessing of such a love.
 
 124 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " I am not afraid to die," continued Lily. " God is 
 my Father, and I know he calls me into his great 
 love. Bring my friends now, and let me see them 
 once more before I go home. Lily gazed earnestly 
 at the little group gathered tearfully around her 
 bed. For each one she had some token of affection, 
 a ring here, a book there, a ribbon or pressed 
 flower to another. With saddened faces they re 
 ceived them, and the room was filled with their 
 sobs. " Don't, dear friends," said Lily, " you dis 
 tress me. When one returns from a journey and 
 sees once more home faces, does he weep or 
 rejoice ? I am only going back to my Father's 
 arms : you will see me there." 
 
 Lucy Howard wept passionately. " No, no, Lily ! 
 I shall never see you again. I shall not go to that 
 * better land.' You are an angel, I an evil spirit. 
 God will reward you, and punish me. He cannot 
 be * my Father.' I am afraid of him." 
 
 " No, Lucy. God is love : he that feareth is not 
 made perfect in love ; for ' perfect love casteth out 
 fear.' His love is above and around you, as a great 
 light in darkness, you cannot stumble or fall." 
 
 Lily lay back on her pillow exhausted ; and one 
 by one the girls left the room sadly and tearfully. 
 " Heaven is full of angels," said Ellen Lee : " could 
 they not have left us this one ? " 
 
 Lily's eyes were closed. " Her life will pass with 
 the hour," said the doctor.
 
 Who that has watched a dear one passing down 
 the shadowed valley, does not remember the hope 
 less feeling which filled the heart after the great 
 struggle for resignation was passed ; and the weary 
 calm which came when Hope's ministers are fled ; 
 the whisper of " Peace ! " when the human affection 
 says "there is no peace"? these are the heaviest 
 crosses of affliction. Heavy indeed was the heart 
 of Mrs. Gushing. She realized the fulfilment of her 
 fear, that God would some time remove the idol she 
 had dared to love better than him. Heavy indeed 
 was the heart of the indulgent father, who watched 
 the fading of his great hope. 
 
 The sun was setting. The curtains had been 
 drawn, that Lily's eyes might look once more upon 
 the purple heavens. A faint flush tinged her cheek, 
 who shall say it was not a reflection of the com 
 ing glory ? Out in the west the sky glowed with 
 warm, sun-kissed clouds ; and all the light and sweet 
 ness and beauty seemed drawn from earth to illu 
 mine with celestial brightness the gates of eternity. 
 
 Who shall wonder if to the vision of departing 
 faith heaven was opened, and the ridge of bright 
 ness seemed the rounds of a golden ladder, where 
 ministering spirits ascended into glory ? The dying 
 girl lay as if in a glorious trance ; and her spirit 
 seemed passing on the strain of some heavenly 
 melody. Once in a while she murmured, "Dear 
 father ! " when Mr. Gushing bent over her. The
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 sweet voice of Alice broke the stillness, " ' Let 
 not your heart be troubled : ye believe in God, be 
 lieve also in me. In my Father's house are many 
 mansions. I go to prepare a place for you.' ' : 
 " More ! more ! " said Lily ; if more of those beau 
 tiful words." "'And God shall wipe away all 
 tears ; and there shall be no more pain, neither sor 
 row nor crying ; for the former things are passed 
 away. Yea, though I walk through the valley 
 of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for 
 thou art with me.' ' : 
 
 " O mother ! I can see it now, that beautiful coun 
 try ; it is light, all light. There is no valley, and 
 no shadow. You used to call me your Lily-flower ; 
 but the lilies grow larger and fairer there : some day 
 you will follow me into this bright land, where " . 
 The pale lips faintly uttered, " Our Father ; " the 
 light went out of the blue eyes, like the sunset flush 
 in the eye of day, and Lily was in heaven. Yes : 
 she had put her hand in that of the waiting angel, 
 and they had passed on together under the dark 
 portal of this life into the gates of immortality. 
 
 Alice remembered her words, "I shall pass 
 directly in at the portal," and turned her gaze to 
 the western sky. Amidst the fading crimson, one 
 little spot of blue was visible, to her it was the 
 path made by the ascending spirits. 
 
 Mrs. Gushing sank upon her knees, and buried 
 her face in her hands. Her hope had faded, her
 
 THE FADED FLOWER. 
 
 light had gone out, her heart was desolate. " ' My 
 God, my God ! why hast thou forsaken me ? ' : 
 mrst from her in her agony. Urged by deep sym 
 pathy, Alice knelt beside her, and throwing her 
 arms around her neck murmured, " Mother." " My 
 daughter," said Mrs. Gushing : f< let us pray." And 
 over the silent form went up the supplication of 
 broken-hearted love, the prayer for strength and 
 grace, till an inflow of divine love hallowed their 
 grief, while it knit still closer the bonds of mutual 
 affection. From that hour Alice felt she was not 
 motherless. 
 
 In a beautiful spot at Greenwood they made the 
 grave of Lily. The long branches of the willow 
 swept over the stone which mourning love reared 
 above her dust, so that in summer the zephyr sang 
 a soothing symphony amid the leaves, and the soft 
 sunlight cast around the stone a halo like a crown. 
 It bore the simple inscription, " Our Lily," with 
 a hand pointing upward, and the motto, Resurrexi, 
 " I have risen." 
 
 Years after this, when trial and sorrow had puri 
 fied and enlarged her life, Alice stood by this stone, 
 and, as she read the motto, so full of hope, with deep 
 feeling repeated the sweet words of Ellen Lee : 
 
 " Like a soft and tender vision, 
 
 Like a picture old and rare, 
 Seems this thought, this dream elysian, 
 Of a maiden young and fair.
 
 128 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 'Tis a sad and simple story, 
 Where the sunset's gold was poured, 
 
 She ascended through the glory 
 With the angel of the Lord. 
 
 So sometimes I dream at even, 
 If our lives are good and true, 
 
 We may one day go to heaven 
 With the waiting angels too. 
 
 We may join the holy harping ; 
 
 We may lie upon His breast, 
 4 Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
 
 And the weary are at rest. "
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 UNHAPPINESS. 
 
 AN unsensitive nature is seldom aroused, except it 
 be on the occasion of strong passion or emotion. 
 This was the case with Ada Whiting. Lily's sick 
 ness had affected her very little. She was sure she 
 would get well, she said, " there was no need of 
 worrying." Sometimes her companions would reply, 
 " But suppose that Lily should die, would you 
 not feel sorry for talking so ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! Lily's health is as good as mine, usu 
 ally. What is the use of fretting ? " 
 
 And so Ada resigned herself to her own pleasures, 
 heedless of the sacred obligations of friendly love. 
 But it is well known, that, when these persons are 
 surprised by an unhappy event, they are deeply 
 afflicted. No one suffers so much as they ; and they 
 overlay the grief of others with their own lamenta 
 tions. So it was with Ada: she was completely 
 overwhelmed. She cried herself almost sick over 
 the loss of her friend, and suddenly became aware 
 of her lost companion's worth and many virtues. 
 
 In one of these moods Alice surprised her, as she 
 was sitting in their room one morning. Her book 
 was spread open on her lap ; but her head was 
 
 bowed upon it, and the tears trickled through her 
 6*
 
 130 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 fingers. She did not hear any one approach, and for 
 a few moments Alice stood regarding her in silence. 
 
 " What is the matter, Cousin Ada ? " 
 
 Ada raised her head, but quickly hid her face in 
 her hands again. 
 
 Alice stood a moment, her mind divided between 
 pity and vexation. She, with her strong mind, 
 could have little sympathy with her cousin's fre 
 quent crying spells, but she pitied her most sin 
 cerely. " I wonder what can be the matter now ! " 
 thought she. 
 
 " Are you sick, Ada ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am sick, heart-sick," was the reply. 
 
 " What book have you there, cousin ? " 
 
 Ada condescended to wipe her eyes, and, taking 
 up the book, read off the title, 
 
 " ' The Lone Heart ; a Tale of Love and Disap 
 pointment.' And it's such a good book," she con 
 tinued, " so affecting ; and it made me think so much 
 of my owji troubles. Nobody knows how many un 
 happy hours I have." 
 
 Just the slightest curve of contempt wreathed 
 Alice's firm lips. She did not know whether she 
 ought to talk to her cousin, or leave her to cry over 
 her imaginary woes. Seating herself, she said, 
 
 "I consider it my duty to talk with you, Cousm 
 Ada." 
 
 " That everlasting word, duty. You talk to me 
 as if you were doing penance."
 
 TJNHAPPINESS. 131 
 
 u No, Cousin Ada: you do me -wrong. I will 
 sympathize with you in any real trouble, and 
 join you in any plan for our improvement. Any 
 one can work himself into a morbid heartache who 
 will read sentimental novels by the hour. Why, 
 Ada, I have known girls who read novels so much 
 they believed all sorts of foolish things. I have 
 heard of one young girl who imagined she was -not 
 her parents' child, but that they stole her in infancy 
 from her father, who was a great lord. And so she 
 treated her poor father and mother as if they were 
 her tyrants and enemies.'^ 
 
 " I don't think that is so very wonderful," said 
 Ada. " It wouldn't take much for me to imagine 
 my father and mother were my enemies. I'm sure 
 they never loved me any." 
 
 "O Ada! Ada! don't, pray don't. One of 
 these days you will repent so bitterly saying these 
 words. When your father and mother lie where 
 mine do, you will wish every word you uttered had 
 been a blessing. I'm sure, Ada, your mother is 
 proud of you, and Uncle William loves you." 
 
 " Not half as much as he does you, Alice ; and 
 I'm sure you hit the nail on the head when you said 
 mother was proud of me. She never loved me one 
 bit. The first thing I can remember is being 
 dressed up like a great doll, so that people might 
 admire my bfeck curls, and say, 'She is a little 
 beauty, Mrs. Whiting, looks just like her mother.'
 
 132 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 I was brought up in that school. Is it any wonder 
 that I am proud and selfish now ? " 
 
 Alice said nothing, for she felt the truth of this ; 
 and Ada continued, "I think sometimes, Alice, 
 for all I am so vain and foolish, I love Miss Newton, 
 I love you. I think it is better to be simple and 
 loving ; but I wouldn't change places. You will 
 walk in the quiet paths of life. I must have stir, 
 excitement; I want admiration. One day, Lizzie 
 and I will have establishments of our own : then I 
 will dance and dress ! and, if there are any duties in 
 life, I will forget them. You will pity me, and I 
 shall pity you. Any thing is better than to be old- 
 maidish, a poke." 
 
 " May God bless you, my dear cousin ! " said 
 Alice solemnly ; " and may no deeper disgrace ever 
 attach itself to you than that of a single life ! I am 
 content to take life as God sends it. If it be mar 
 riage, with its trials and duties, I will not be so 
 cowardly as to shrink back. If it be a single life, I 
 know that there is work in the highways as well as 
 in the vallies. I am not afraid to be an old maid." 
 
 Very sad at heart, Alice went back to her books. 
 Ada watched her till the last flutter of her dress dis 
 appeared in the doorway, and then, burying her face 
 in her hands again, thought more seriously than she 
 was wont.' The verbs in Alice's Latin Grammar 
 lost their hard sameness, and instead she seemed to 
 oee sweet words of counsel and courage, and hear
 
 UNHAPPINESS. 133 
 
 Voices long ago hushed. " O Father ! " she mur 
 mured, "I thank thee that I had wise and good 
 parents." 
 
 And what. thought Ada ? 
 
 tf My mother never loved me as Alice's mother 
 loved her, never kissed me, never taught me 
 any prayers ! O mother ! perhaps I should not be 
 so selfish if you had loved me." 
 
 Ada Whiting had true cause for unhappiness, a 
 cause which she did not reveal to her cousin. She 
 had pledged herself to do a deed unworthy of her, 
 and she already more than repented. Evelina Cobb 
 had never lost her influence over Ada, although her 
 shallowness and vanity had somewhat weakened it. 
 Ada liked her bold recklessness, her freedom from 
 all religious restraints, and her flattering words. 
 Evelina had never forgiven Charles and Ellen Lee 
 for the mortification they had caused her, and she 
 declared that she would be even with them. An 
 occasion was approaching which seemed to favor her 
 plans for revenge. The governor of the state was 
 personally interested in Miss Newton's school, and 
 he had promised a gold medal for the best essay at 
 the close of the coming term. There was much 
 rivalry in the school. Ellen Lee had always been 
 called the best writer ; but now Ada had made every 
 effort to outdo her. Never did rivals at the Olym 
 pian games strive with more eager zeal. Groups of 
 girls would assemble at recess to talk over the pros-
 
 134 THE SHEAVES OF LOVB. 
 
 pects of the competitors. Ellen Lee's was a poetical 
 essay, evincing great talent ; and the pupils already 
 looked upon her as the victor. This was very gall 
 ing to Ada's pride. 
 
 All the worst traits of her passionate nature were 
 aroused at the prospect of failure, and flowed out in 
 bitter feelings towards her rival. If ever any one 
 needed a true friend, Ada needed one now; but, 
 alas ! she fell into the hands of an enemy. 
 
 Evelina had read novels enough to know how to 
 plot, and she could coax and flatter enough to ob 
 tain the instruments she needed. Her plan was 
 this : She would obtain Ellen's essay the night be 
 fore the exhibition, hide it where it would not come 
 to light until after that occasion, and then seem like 
 a pure accident, which no one could account for. 
 Thus she would deprive Ellen of a triumph and a 
 prize, while at the same time she would be revenging 
 herself on both brother and sister. But it would never 
 do for her to put this plot into execution herself. 
 
 Let us see how the monkey used the cat's paw to 
 pull his chestnuts out of the fire. " You darling 
 girl," said Evelina, as she met Ada at the foot of 
 the stairs ; " I've been dying to see you : come into 
 the recitation-room, I have fixed it splendidly," 
 said she, as she drew Ada to a seat. " You see Miss 
 Newton gave Bridget the key to the schoolroom this 
 morning, in order that she might do the cleaning. 
 Thinks I to myself, here's a chance : so after school
 
 UNHAPPINESS. 135 
 
 I just went down to the kitchen, and made a bargain 
 with Bridget to let me have the key this evening. 
 She was willing enough to do it for an old ribbon I 
 gave her. Her brain is so dull she never will sus 
 pect me, even if questioned. Ellen's portfolio is in 
 her desk, I saw her put it there at the close of the 
 session. So you see it is all arranged, and nicely 
 too. Come, why don't you say what you think of 
 it?" she continued, as Ada sat silent and moody. 
 
 ' f I believe I shall have nothing to do with it," 
 said Ada : " it is too mean even for me." 
 
 " Give it up ! " cried Evelina, " after I've had all 
 this trouble for you ? And so you're willing to slave a 
 month over an essay, and then let the favorite take 
 the prize ! I wouldn't have taken so much trou 
 ble for you, if I had known you would give it up so 
 meanly ! " 
 
 "Who is the most accommodated, I wonder?" 
 retorted Ada. " But the truth is, it does look be 
 neath one to be creeping into the schoolroom at 
 night, like a thief, yes, a thief in reality. I be 
 lieve I had rather lose the prize." 
 
 "Oh! well," said Evelina coolly, "you can go 
 without it, I suppose. Nobody will cry if you don't 
 get it. But how cheap Ada Whiting will feel ! " 
 
 Ada's eyes flashed. The old jealousy was alive 
 again. " Any thing is better than failure," thought 
 she, "I can bear any thing better than that. Be 
 sides," reasoned the tempter, " nobody will know it.
 
 136 
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 "What is a moment's danger to the triumph of suc 
 cess ? " 
 
 " I will do it/' replied she. " What is the use of 
 living if you can't have what you want ? " 
 
 "And I may depend upon you?" said Evelina 
 inquiringly. 
 
 ci Yes : bring the key to your room at nine o'clock ; 
 and, when the house is still, I will go with you." 
 
 " You are a dear good girl," said Evelina purr- 
 ingly. " How mad Ellen Lee's friends will be ! 
 But they never will suspect in the world." 
 
 "Yes," said she, when Ada had left the room. 
 " One good turn deserves another. That picture on 
 the wall won't look so hateful after this."
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 
 "LKAD us NOT INTO TEMPTATION." 
 
 As the bell rang for the girls to retire, Evelina 
 entered her chamber with Ada. A half hour 
 passed in conversation, during which time the noise 
 in the house grew fainter and fainter, and finally 
 ceased altogether. A hush, most of all impressive 
 when it holds the thought of sleep, settled over 
 them like a benediction, as they sat there silent and 
 motionless. Ada was not naturally superstitious : 
 but, with the sense of guilt on her mind, the silence 
 seemed filled with mocking voices, and the darkness 
 took strange shapes ; while all the old goblin tales 
 she had ever read seemed to haunt her imagination. 
 Alas ! she had not that pure heart which sees God, 
 nor the pure lips to pray, " Deliver us from evil." 
 
 " Do you think every thing is perfectly safe ? " 
 ventured she, in a whisper. 
 
 " Yes," replied Evelina ;'" there is no danger if 
 you are very careful. You had better take off your 
 shoes when you go. We shall have good luck, for 
 I saw the moon over my right shoulder to-night. 
 "What ails you ? " said she, as she felt Ada shudder. 
 
 " Nothing," replied her companion. " Isn't it a 
 little cold ? I wish we had left the lamp burning. 
 I feel a little faint."
 
 138 THE SFIEAVKS OF LOVE. 
 
 " You will get over it in a minute," said Evelina. 
 " We mustn't light the lamp," for we should cer 
 tainly be discovered. I've got some lucifer matches 
 in my pocket, and you can light the gas when you 
 get down stairs. Come," said she, pulling Ada's 
 hand, " I guess it's safe now." 
 
 But Ada drew it back. " I wish you would go 
 yourself, Evelina. I don't care for the prize so 
 much as to do this, go yourself." 
 
 " Impossible," returned Evelina, putting the key 
 into her hand. " I should be suspected immediately. 
 Come, you will feel better in a minute ; " and she 
 pushed Ada before her into the entry. The sleep 
 ing-rooms were situated opposite each other, only 
 divided by a long entry or passage-way. The doors 
 were mostly ajar ; but there were no lights, nor any 
 signs of wakeful life. They stole softly along the 
 passage, feeling their way by the wall, when sud 
 denly Ada whispered, 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 The two girls stood holding their breath, while 
 from one of the rooms stole a softened murmur, a 
 prayerful voice, which Ada knew to be Alice's. 
 For worlds she could not have moved. She felt like 
 the criminal compelled to hear his own death-war 
 rant, while every word fell distinctly on her ear, - 
 " * And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those 
 who trespass against us. And lead us not into 
 temptation, but deliver us from evil.' "
 
 " LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION. ' 139 
 
 " Deliver us from evil, deliver us from evil," 
 how the words echoed and re-echoed in her ears ! 
 She said them over and over again with white lips 
 that made no sound; she Qlung to them as the 
 drowning man clutches at a straw, with a blind 
 sense of safety and hope in their spell. Then came 
 the dark thought, ' ' "What right have I to take the 
 name of the Lord upon my lips ? I, clothed in the 
 livery of sin, to be talking the language of heaven ? " 
 They would do for Alice, and for the sinless lips of 
 Jittle children ; but such words were \nockery for her. 
 In an instant of time she seemed to live ages of 
 thought. " What would Alice think of this ? what 
 would Lily think? Perhaps she was even then 
 looking at her. Perhaps God had sent her to be a 
 witness of her sin." The thought worked upon 
 her feverish, excited mind. She almost fancied she 
 caught a glimpse of white garments, and a super 
 natural dread filled her with shrinking terror. 
 
 " Come, Ada," whispered Evelina, " it is no 
 thing." But Ada stirred not a step, nor uttered a 
 word. " Come," said Evelina, shaking her, " what 
 is the matter with you ? " 
 
 " Lead us not into temptation ! " whispered Ada 
 softly. " Did you hear her say it ? Lily said it ! " 
 
 Evelina was frightened. She shook her com 
 panion rudely. " Are you crazy ? " said she. 
 
 " Yes, I believe I am ! I wish I were ' " said 
 Ada. " I wish we had a light ! "
 
 140 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 They moved on again softly, stopping now and 
 then to listen. Oh! the still, calm, holy night 
 how eloquent its stillness ! how fearful its calm 
 ness ! how voiceful its holiness ! How it searches 
 out our weaknesses ! how its brooding darkness 
 seems to separate us from the outward world, and 
 leave us alone with God ! 
 
 With cat-like tread they descended the stairs ; 
 the great clock in the hall seemed sounding an 
 alarm, and its "Tick-tick-tick-tick" said in Ada's 
 ears, "Thief-thief-thief-thief," till it almost mad- v 
 dened her. She stopped her ears, but only to hear 
 another voice say, " Lead us not into temptation ! " 
 
 " What a fool I am ! " thought she. " I will go 
 on now. What does that clock mean, I wonder ? 
 I'll beat it to pieces if it don't stop." 
 
 They reached the door of the school-room. Ada's 
 hand was upon the knob, when, as she afterwards 
 declared, a voice like a shout cried, " Lead us not 
 into temptation." She turned and fled up the stair 
 way with mad haste, and stopped not till she had 
 thrown herself into her cousin's room, weeping and 
 sobbing hysterically. It was a long time before she 
 could answer Alice's eager questions. 
 
 " O Cousin Alice ! you will despise me ; but you 
 can't hate me as I hate myself." And then she told 
 the story of her temptation. " It was dreadful, Alice, 
 sinful too ; and, oh ! so mean, that cuts me worst 
 of all ! How can I ever hold my head up again ? "
 
 "LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION." 141 
 
 " Heaven be praised ! " exclaimed Alice. 
 
 " Praised for what ? that I have lowered and 
 degraded myself? " 
 
 " No ! that you were saved from the evil, A la. 
 What if you never could have held your head up in 
 the presence of honor ? I love you more this 
 minute than I ever did before." 
 
 Ada sat thoughtful. " I wish I were like you, 
 
 .Alice. Do you remember what father said one 
 
 night ? ' Alice,' said he, ' will make the world 
 
 better for her having lived in it.' I have thought 
 
 of that so much ! " 
 
 " Don't think of it any more then," responded 
 Alice, throwing her arms affectionately around her 
 cousin. " Measure your strength, not by the past, 
 but by faith in the future. If your record-book 
 bears the word ' unfaithful,' let the white leaves 
 say, 'Well done! good and faithful servant.' ' : 
 
 " But then I am so impulsive, Alice, and all my 
 impulses are wrong ones. You see I know what is 
 right ; but it is easier to do wrong. How can I 
 help it ? 1 wasn't made like you. If I had beeri 
 made right, there would have been no trouble." 
 
 " That is not only sinful, but unphilosophical," 
 replied Alice. " Because you have not developed 
 your spiritual nature, you lay the lack of its gifts 
 and graces at the door of Providence, while all 
 around you are the means of culture. It is the blind 
 eye only that looks downward upon Destiny and
 
 142 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 
 
 Fate, while above there are the sunny hills of 
 Endeavor." 
 
 Ada sighed. "You have commenced climbing 
 those hills, Alice ; but I am still in the valley 
 of Indolence. It is an enchanted place, and I 
 have no thread to guide me out of it. What shall 
 I do?" 
 
 " Open your eyes, Ada ! Don't you see the 
 thread ? There are two threads in your enchanted 
 valley, running in opposite directions. One is the 
 golden thread of Pleasure ; and it shines so brightly 
 you can scarce see the sombre little thread of Duty. 
 The thread of Pleasure winds among the low valleys 
 of ease ; and, if you follow it, it will lead you to the 
 dark river of Misery, and invite you to drown 
 Memory among the waves of Forgetfulness. The 
 other, the thread of Duty, winds along the dusty 
 highways of Labor, and wounds your feet by pass 
 ing over the rocks of Temptation ; but it leads y^a 
 up the Mountain of Aspiration, and shows you the 
 sunny slope of perfect Faith, whence you may catch 
 a glimpse of the glory beyond. Which will you 
 choose ? " 
 
 Ada looked her admiration ! The soul of Alice 
 seemed stirred with a hope new to her, a hope 
 that her dear cousin would seek to find " that better 
 part " which should not be taken away from her. 
 
 " I ought to choose Duty," said Ada ; " but I love 
 Pleasure better. To follow Duty, one must be re-
 
 " LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION." 143 
 
 ligious, and religion makes people gloomy. I can 
 not give up the world yet ! " 
 
 " I would not have you," returned Alice. " Only 
 make yourself worthy to help the world. It is no 
 heroism to run away from temptation." 
 
 " But you did not understand me, Cousin Alice. 
 I mean that I cannot give up the vanities of the 
 world. "What shall I do when I go into society ? I 
 want to make a sensation, a triumph ! " 
 
 " I did understand you too well, Cousin Ada. I 
 Will tell you what to do. Take fast hold of the little 
 thread of Duty, and, as you mingle in these brilliant 
 scenes, show the butterflies of Fashion how a true soul 
 can live above their glitter. Carry the torch of Truth 
 among the dry chaff, and let it do its work. You have 
 a' most glorious field for labor, a true missionary 
 work, if you would but do it. What will you say 
 when you give in an account of your stewardship ? " 
 
 Alice's face glowed with impassioned fervor. It 
 was fairly radiant with soul. 
 
 " You are an angel, Alice," said Ada ; " but be 
 tween you and me there is a great gulf fixed. I 
 cannot see life as you see it. No one ever taught 
 me. My heart is heavy, and my brain is whirling. 
 Pity me, Alice, for I am very weak ; and I cannot 
 think to-night. Do you believe I could be good, 
 Alice, if I should try ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but not by your own strength, Ada. Pray 
 that our Father will help you."
 
 144 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " I don't know how, Alice. I never said a prayer 
 in my life." 
 
 " My poor cousin ! " 
 
 " It is strictly true," said Ada. " I never remem 
 ber hearing one in our house. I don't believe a 
 prayer is said there from one year's end to another." 
 
 " If that is true now," said Alice, " don't let it be 
 hereafter. Promise me that you will think of these 
 things, Ada." 
 
 " I will see, Alice, yes, I think I will try. 
 For all you have no such splendid prospects in life, 
 you are richer and happier." 
 
 Alice thought she would not have exchanged tier 
 " splendid prospects " for those of any queen or 
 princess. 
 
 Ada's sleep was broken and uneasy that night ; 
 and more than once Alice was awakened by hearing 
 her say, " I will try, yes, I think I will try." 
 
 For herself, she rejoiced that this event had re 
 vealed Evelina in her true colors; and she hoped 
 that now she might win her cousin to the society of 
 truer friends. 
 
 The next morning revealed all. Evelina, rather 
 than be cheated of her revenge, took the essay her 
 self. Of course she denied all knowledge of it, not 
 dreaming that Ada would say any thing of a matter 
 which would criminate herself. But she, with her 
 late remorse weighing heavily upon her mind, sought 
 a private interview with Miss Newton, and told her
 
 "LEAD us NOT INTO TEMPTATION." 145 
 
 all. She wept over her ungenerous conduct, and 
 told Miss Newton of Alice's good counsels. Miss 
 Newton herself wept at the recital. 
 
 " You cannot do better," said she, " than to 
 regard this advice. A character like her's is beyond 
 all price. As for Evelina, I think her influence is 
 an evil one. I cannot have her longer under my 
 care." 
 
 " Isn't it scandalous, girls ? " said Jane Swift. 
 "Who would have thought it of Ada "Whiting? 
 But it all comes of that prying Alice Morton." 
 
 Edward Hall heard the recital from the admiring 
 lips of one of Alice's school-friends, who could not 
 say enough in praise of her. 
 
 " This Miss Morton," said he, " is a noble girl. 
 I believe I must know her better." 
 
 "Yes," said the judge, " I wish you would."
 
 CHAPTER XVHI. 
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS AT HOME. 
 
 " WELL, little Miss Sobriety ! " said Mr. Whiting, 
 " does it seem good to be at home again ? " 
 
 '" Yes indeed, uncle ! " and Alice's eyes seconded 
 the answer. " But why do you call me little ? " 
 
 " Oh ! because I want you to be just as you were 
 when I used to hold you on my knee and kiss you, 
 as I am going to do now," and he imprinted a 
 hearty kiss upon her forehead. 
 
 " Why, William, how can you ? " said Mrs. 
 Whiting. " Think of my poor nerves ! Ada, will 
 you stop drumming that piano ? Goodness ! it is a 
 wonder how I ever live through so much." 
 
 It was Christmas Eve, and the family were all 
 assembled once more in the drawing-room. The 
 coal in the grate glowed as cheerfully, and the crim 
 son curtains threw their shadows as warmly, as when 
 we first saw Alice, on that rainy November evening, 
 when Mr. Whiting granted her wishes. Fred sat 
 very quietly on the sofa, which Alice thought was 
 strange for him ; and she wondered if the discipline 
 of hard study had in any way curbed his mischiev 
 ous impulses. 
 
 "Well, Frederick," said his father, "what are
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS AT HOME. 147 
 
 you thinking of? You have done well to keep your 
 peace for five minutes." 
 
 " Oh ! I can be peaceable when I choose," said 
 Fred, laughing ; " but just now my thoughts were 
 occupied by a very interesting subject." 
 
 " What, pray, did you ever think of for five mi 
 nutes at a time ? " said Lizzie. 
 
 " Most gracious sister," said Fred, " did time per 
 mit, I would enter into an abstruse and metaphysical 
 analysis of my reasoning faculties, to convince you 
 that I am capable of such an effort. To speak 
 plainly, I am thinking of Alice. Don't you think 
 she has grown handsome ? " 
 
 Alice blushed. 
 
 " If I had a spy-glass, perhaps I could see it," re 
 plied Lizzie, tossing her head; "but I must say, 
 No." 
 
 " Come, Lizzie, can't you be generous for once ? " 
 said Mr. "Whiting. " For my part, I think Alice's 
 bright cheeks would shame the lily faces of our city 
 girls. I think the country air has made her quite 
 beautiful." 
 
 " And so do I," said Fred. 
 
 "And I," said Ada. 
 
 If Alice's cheeks were bright before, they were 
 now like a damask rose. 
 
 " How ridiculous ! " said Lizzie ; and the mother 
 echoed, " How ridiculous ! " 
 
 " You'll have to be careful, Lizzie," said her
 
 148 ' THE, SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 brother wickedly, exchanging a glance with Ada, 
 " or Alice will steal all your admirers. Come now, 
 cousin, own up ! How many hearts have you con 
 quered with those brown eyes ? " 
 
 " I have not yet conquered my own, Cousin 
 Fred. 
 
 "But some one has conquered it for you, I 
 suppose, and so saved you the trouble. Really, 
 Cousin Alice, I am proud of you. Did you ever 
 see a magnet, Lizzie ? What if Louis " 
 
 " Stop, Frederick Whiting ! Can you ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I might, my angelic sistej, if you were 
 to request me politely," replied the provoking 
 brother. 
 
 " Dear cousin," said Alice, pleadingly laying her 
 hand upon his arm, " wont you stop for my sake ? 
 You make me very unhappy," and her tearful 
 eyes witnessed to her truth. 
 
 " My divine little Queen of Hearts, command me ; 
 for my own heart went long ago," and Fred made 
 a low obeisance. 
 
 " It seems that you have mastered the verb ' to 
 love ' since you have been at college," said Lizzie 
 scornfully. 
 
 " And so have you," said Fred. " Be careful, 
 Lizzie, of foreign noblemen." 
 
 Lizzie opened her great eyes half in surprise and 
 half in anger. 
 
 " You don't know any thing about my friends."
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS AT HOME. 149 
 
 " Don't I ? " said Fred, with a roguish twinkle of 
 his eye. " Most adorable angel," said he, drop 
 ping on one knee, and imitating the exact tone of 
 Louis Melville, " let-ah the light-ah of your beau 
 tiful eyes rest-ah upon me. My life-ah is in your 
 divine-ah presence." 
 
 Lizzie's eyes flashed angrily. 
 
 " Did you hear that ? And so you were eaves 
 dropping, were you ? Learned that at college, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 The scene was comic, and a smile passed through 
 the group. 
 
 " Come, come, children," said Mr. Whiting, " do 
 your lovemaking as you please, but let us be plea 
 sant to-night. Wife, shall we have some music ? " 
 
 "I don't care, I am sure," said Mrs. Whiting. 
 " One might as well be bored in one way as another. 
 Lizzie, play your father that new Italian air." 
 
 " No, no ; give me something that has soul in it. 
 Ada, will you play * Sweet Home,' and let Alice 
 sing the words ? " 
 
 Alice sang it with expression. Her voice, soft 
 and sweet, seemed more tender, as if Memory had 
 melted her tears into the strain. 
 
 " That's very sweet," said Fred. 
 
 " Humdrum," said Lizzie. 
 
 The tears rained over Alice's face : she could not 
 help it. The beloved tune had been an " open 
 sesame " for many buried delights. It seemed so
 
 150 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 out of place, with its sweet lowliness, among those 
 proud spirits and gilded trappings. 
 
 " "Where is home, Alice ? " said Mr. Whiting, as 
 he stood leaning over her chair. 
 
 " Where the heart is, Uncle William. Mine is 
 in heaven." 
 
 " I wish mine was," said Mr. Whiting, half un 
 consciously. 
 
 " For my part, I am very well contented to live 
 here," said Lizzie. 
 
 " But you may not always be able to, my daugh 
 ter." 
 
 ' ' Why, what do you mean, father ? You are not 
 going to leave this house ? " 
 
 " No, not at present," said Mr. Whiting, smiling. 
 " I referred to the uncertainty of life." 
 
 " Oh ! how you frightened me ! " said Lizzie. " I 
 was afraid something had happened. Henrietta 
 West's father failed last week, and she's got to 
 teach. If any such thing should happen to us, I 
 should die. I never could live through Buch dis 
 grace." 
 
 " Yes you would," said Fred. " Our wealth would 
 be gone, but our trials and vexations of all kinds 
 would be left." 
 
 Mr. Whiting looked troubled. " How little they 
 dream," thought he, " that this splendor may be the 
 sunset's last glory." 
 
 Alice remembered her old friends, John and Con-
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS AT HOME. 151 
 
 tent. She opened the kitchen-door softly : Content 
 was at the ironing table, her dusky face shining with 
 perspiration and good temper. She did not perceive 
 that any one had entered j and Alice stole softly up 
 behind her, and threw over her head a gay bandanna 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Lor' bress us ! who dat ? " and Content pulled 
 the trifle from her head, and stood peering curiously 
 at Alice, as if half inclined to think her an illusion. 
 But her eyes rested delightedly upon the handker 
 chief, and Alice feared that its bright red stripes 
 would outshine the giver. 
 
 " It's me, 'Tenty. Don't you remember Alice ? 
 
 " Bress ye, honey, yes ! Only ye looked so shinin' 
 like, and I'se been hopin' for ye so long. I'se 'fraid 
 ye'd just melt away. De dear chile ! how hand 
 some like she's growed," she continued, surveying 
 Alice with intense satisfaction. 
 
 " Then you're glad to see me, are you, 'Tenty ? " 
 
 " 'Pears like I'se joyful. This 'ere 'kerchief is de 
 beautifullest ! 'Clare for't, joyful as Jacob when he 
 sjeed Joseph, as ye used to tell for." 
 
 " Do you read the Bible now, 'Tenty ? " 
 
 " Not much 'count, honey. Ole John, he done 
 read some ; but he circumwents it so dis chile don't 
 know nothin' 'bout it." 
 
 " I am glad you read it, at any rate," said Alice. 
 " Now I'm at home I will read for you." 
 
 " Thank ye. I tell Old John, < Alice she's an
 
 158 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 angel going straight to glory ; but Missee Lizzie say 
 she would not read for poor folks like me." 
 
 "Never mind, 'Tenty; if you are poor in this 
 world's goods, I hope you are rich in grace." 
 
 " So I tole 'em," said Content, triumphantly. 
 
 Alice spent some time with her humble friends. 
 When John came home, she took his well-worn 
 Bible, and read sweet comforting passages, while flhe 
 tears ran down the faces of her auditors. There is 
 a spell in a low, musical voice j and some people have 
 a faculty of melting their souls into their tones. Alice 
 read chapter after chapter, feeling it a privilege to read 
 the words of eternal life to the poor and unlearned. 
 
 "Now, John," said Alice, "I want to hear you 
 read, so I can see how much you have improved." 
 
 " Dis child has made slow progress," said John, 
 as he read, "God so loved the world that he 
 gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believ- 
 eth on Him should not perish, but have eternal life." 
 
 " Those are precious promises," said Alice, " and 
 you read very well ; and while 1 am at home I will 
 teach you every day." 
 
 " Thank ye, child. 'Pears like I would have ye 
 stay always with us, Miss Alice." 
 
 Very different from this was the scene in one of 
 the upper rooms of this house of luxury. 
 
 " Ada," said Lizzie, as she stood before the glass, 
 "I want you to advise me. You see we are all going 
 to Mrs. Hammersford's to-inorrow night, and all the 
 world will be there. Now, what shall I wear ?
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS AT HOME. 153 
 
 what color do you think suits my style of beauty 
 best ? Now, there's red," she rattled on, " but that's 
 too flashy ! and blue, gentlemen can't bear blue ! 
 and purple, or violet. There, I've got it now, 
 violet would be just the thing; don't you think 
 so, Ada ? " 
 
 " Really, sister, I don't know ; suit yourself. 
 The color of a dress don't matter much ! " 
 
 "What an innocent, unsophisticated thing you 
 are ! Don't matter, do you think ? I tell you the 
 color of a dress is every thing ; you'll find it out 
 when you go into society." 
 
 " Then I am to suppose that society is made up 
 of dresses, varying in kind and quality according to 
 the market valuation of the person in them," said 
 Ada, half in earnest and half in raillery. 
 
 " Nonsense, Ada ! What is the matter with you ? 
 You've come home as moping and solemn and old- 
 maidish as you can be ! " 
 
 " I believe I have begun to think a little, Lizzie." 
 
 " Begun to fiddle-stick ! " exclaimed her sister. 
 " I tell you, you must not think ! It'll just spoil 
 you for society. But I see that preaching Alice 
 Morton has been filling your head with her pious 
 notions. I told mother how it would'be ! There is 
 nothing like a French Boarding School to fit one for 
 society ! " Lizzie talked on, telling Ada of the 
 grand balls of the season, and enlarging upon her 
 own success, until Ada caught a part of her enthu- 
 7*
 
 154 THE SHEAVES Ol' LOVE. 
 
 siasm. Alice's simple pleasure seemed nothing 
 compared to the gay life of fashion ; and, for the 
 time, dress, company, and admiration, seemed the 
 highest objects of earthly ambition. 
 
 " Never fear for me, Lizzie ; I always said I would 
 make a sensation ! Sometimes, when I talk with 
 Alice, I feel as if the world was all vanity and show ; 
 but I know I cannot live without admiration. Do 
 you think I am handsome, Lizzie ? " 
 
 It was a tender point with Lizzie, but then this 
 was an emergency, and she answered, " Yes, very ! 
 There is not one in a hundred who would make 
 more sensation." 
 
 " Alice never told me I was handsome, in her 
 life," thought Ada. 
 
 ' ' You'll see something of society to-morrow 
 night," continued Lizzie. " Look here, Ada, I am 
 going to give you this set of pearls when you make 
 your debut. They'll just suit your style." 
 
 Ada gazed, with glistening eyes, upon the beauti 
 ful ornaments. Her heart beat fast with hope and 
 ambition. In their clear whiteness the future 
 seemed painted. The festive scenes which should 
 witness her triumph seemed to look out upon her, 
 reflected from their silvery glow. The love and 
 counsels of Alice were forgotten. Visions of beauty, 
 of music, of bewildering revelry, came and went be 
 fore her eyes, like fairy dreamings. 
 
 Alas, Ada ! you thought you would " try."
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS AT HOME. 155 
 
 So falleth human weakness, without the Divine 
 Helper. 
 
 It was the happy Christmas Eve. Across the 
 way, Mr. Whiting could see tlje windows of his 
 neighbor's mansion brilliantly illuminated, and 
 every now and then between the half-closed curtains 
 he caught glimpses of merry, bounding children, 
 and happy faces grew brighter still in the genial 
 glow. 
 
 The drawing-room was deserted ; there were no 
 merry games there, no evergreen boughs, no candles 
 burned in honor of the Christ Child. Only a lonely 
 man sat and gazed into the dying fire, painting his 
 own hopes and fears in its embers. He had to think 
 of manhood passed, and opportunity wasted ; of his 
 soul's love and faith coined into gold, when it should 
 have been poured out in heart-sunshine. Others, 
 looking in that fire that night, might have seen the 
 loving face of the risen Christ, and have heard the 
 words, " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are 
 heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 
 
 What did Mr. Whiting see ? Alas ! no shade so 
 dark as that which comes between us and heaven ! 
 He saw no visions, he dreamed no dreams. His 
 heaven was Wall Street ; his angel faces, the hard 
 features of unrelenting creditors ; the great concern 
 of his life, how to meet his payments. 
 
 But then, you know, reader, business-men have 
 no time to think of such pretty poetical things ! A
 
 156 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 dollar gained makes some show; but a step towards 
 heaven, why that's all theory. 
 
 A soft hand fell on Mr. "Whiting's shoulder. He 
 half shook it off; thinking, in his re very, that it was 
 his creditor, Hardgrasp. 
 
 "Dear Uncle William, I wanted to say, ' Good 
 night.' " 
 
 " Good-night, dear, good-night ! " But Alice 
 thought he was strangely absent-minded ; for, in- 
 stead of dismissing her, he drew her gently to his 
 side, and said, "You have come back the same, 
 Alice. I am glad of that ! " 
 
 " I was hoping a little better, Uncle William." 
 
 " How could you grow better, any one so 
 wicked as you are ? " said her uncle, in mock 
 seriousness. 
 
 " That is true," said Alice thoughtfully. " I have 
 been thinking to-night how grieved dear mother 
 must be to think I have come so far short of her 
 last prayer for me." 
 
 " What was that, dear ? " 
 
 " That I might be kept pure and unspotted from 
 the world." 
 
 Alice's eyes were fixed upon her uncle. Neither 
 spoke. The thought was a great one. Mr. Whit 
 ing's head sank low upon his breast, as if in com 
 munion with himself; and, when he again spoke, his 
 voice was low and tender. 
 
 " I had a mother once, Alice, and she prayed
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS AT HOME. 157 
 
 that prayer for me. One day she blessed me, and 
 died. I was a wild, wayward boy then. I am a 
 weak, .wayward man now. Her prayer has never 
 been answered. There, go now," he continued ; 
 " leave me alone awhile. I want to think." 
 
 Alice withdrew to her chamber. She was much 
 astonished at her uncle's conversation. He never 
 talked with any other member of the family as he did 
 with her, rarely ever with her, but when he did 
 she saw how the crust of worldliness had hidden the- 
 true heart beneath. He had lacked an object for 
 his rich affections. A long time Alice sat and 
 mused ; wondering if her Aunt Emily had ever 
 really loved him, wondering if his dead mother had 
 not been good and gentle like her own.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A CLOUD IN THE SKY. 
 
 " ADA," said Mr. Whiting, as they sat at break 
 fast the next morning, " how much longer is your 
 echool-course ? '* 
 
 " About a year more, father. Why ? " 
 
 " I am thinking that by next Christmas you will 
 finish your studies. What do you intend to do 
 then?" 
 
 Ada looked up in surprise. " Why, what should 
 I do, father ? I suppose I shall go into society, and 
 make a use of my accomplishments." 
 
 Mr. Whiting took another muffin, and slowly but 
 tered it, first on one side and then on the other. 
 Finally he said, "Use, my child? Society itself is 
 of no use. It holds enough empty idlers already." 
 
 "Really, father," said Lizzie, "you are compli- 
 mentaiy to the rest of us." 
 
 " I am truthful, child. But what do you intend 
 to do, Alice ? " 
 
 " I shall teach, if possible," said Alice ; that 
 has been my aim." 
 
 " You mustn't expect me to own you, then," said 
 Lizzie. " I never could endure those prim school 
 mistresses, sitting bolt upright by those everlasting 
 green desks."
 
 A CLOUD IN THE SKY. 159 
 
 " I think it would require more condescension for 
 Alice to own you," said Fred. 
 
 " Frederick," said Mrs. Whiting, with some show 
 of dignity, " you may keep your opinion till it is 
 called for." 
 
 " And what are you going to do, Lizzie ? " said 
 her father. 
 
 " I ? Oh ! I am going to Mrs. Hammersford's to 
 night. ' Have a good time now, and let the future 
 take care of itself,' is my motto." 
 
 Her father smiled. " I am afraid the world 
 never will reckon you as one of its benefactors, 
 Lizzie." 
 
 " No, it never will, I am sure," she answered. 
 " I am under no obligations to the world ; but it owes 
 me a good time, and I am going to have it. The 
 bee gathers honey from every flower, and so will I." 
 
 " A drone bee," said Fred. et Do you know what 
 becomes of them, Lizzie ? " 
 
 " But what are you going to do, brother ? " said 
 Ada. " Remember the old adage, * People that 
 live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.' ' 
 
 " Oh ! I am living on the strength of the good I 
 am going to do by-and-by." 
 
 " And what may that be ? " His father also 
 looked up inquiringly, fearing that something might 
 have changed his aims. 
 
 " Oh ! Alice and I have talked the matter over ; 
 and we've come to the conclusion that the world i
 
 160 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 all going wrong, and that it is necessary for me to study 
 law in order to put it to rights again. Now, shall I 
 be a drone among all those herebys and aforesaids ? 
 Not much honey in law-flowers, hey, Lizzie ? " 
 
 Mr. Whiting took his hat from the hall. " I am 
 glad," said he, " that you have not chosen the mer 
 cantile life ; for it is full of cares. See, it does not 
 leave me even time for Christmas ! " 
 
 " Well, Lizzie," said her mother, " do you know 
 who are going to be at Mrs. Hammersford's to 
 night?" 
 
 " Oh ! all the beau monde, mother ; and I hear that 
 she has a nephew who will be there, a young Mr. 
 Hall, lately from Europe. They say he is perfectly 
 comme ilfaut" 
 
 Alice looked at Ada to see if she had noticed the 
 name, but she seemed pre-occupied. " It could not 
 be the Mr. Hall we know," thought she. 
 
 Alice rose up with her ever-quiet soberness, and, 
 seeking her pretty chamber, resigned herself to one 
 of those long, silent self-communings, in which the 
 soul makes a pause and is silent ; while memory 
 hallows anew the past, folding again its white wings 
 over the relics of old buried joys and hopes and by 
 gone sorrows. In every deep, earnest heart there is 
 always a chamber whose door is locked and guarded, 
 and on the lock is written, ' s Holy." But once in a 
 while, when some little chord of that heart is stirred, 
 it may be only by some word or look or tear, or
 
 A CLOUD IN THE SKY. 161 
 
 when an anniversary recalls happy hours, we will 
 enter the sacred place alone, and with thought and 
 prayer and tears consecrate it anew to the remem 
 brance of our loves. 
 
 So it was with Alice. Christmas passed with her 
 in resolutions for greater guard over herself, and in 
 dreamings of olden happiness. Once more she lived 
 over the happy Christmas days of her childhood. 
 She saw the great chimney-corner, where so often 
 a tiny stocking had hung ; she remembered with 
 what trembling eagerness she had drawn up the 
 mysterious gifts, and heard the voice of her good 
 father say, " May God bless my daughter ! " Ah ! 
 "the sorrow of all sorrows is remembering hap 
 pier things." It was a holy time with her when 
 passion was banished, and the voice of the world 
 was dumb. The tears trickled between her fingers, 
 as one sometimes hears in the lull of the tempest the 
 sound of the fast-dropping rain. 
 
 A knock at the door brought her back to the 
 present. Chiding her weakness, she rose to answer 
 the summons. It was Ada. 
 
 "Cousin Alice, Lizzie wants you to arrange her 
 hair. She says you have so much taste." 
 
 It was an unwelcome task, for Lizzie was very 
 fastidious. Alice's hands trembled some as she ad 
 justed the heavy braids. 
 
 " Well, Ada, how does it look ? " said Lizzie, 
 when she had finished.
 
 16& THE SHEAVES OF I.OVR. 
 
 " Superbly : what fine taste Alice has ! " 
 
 " Yes ; but then some can do these things betUsr 
 than any thing else," said Lizzie. " There, Alice, 
 that will do. Now, Ada, help me clasp this brace 
 let." 
 
 Not even a fl thank you " for poor Alice. In the 
 hall she met Fred. His fine face was agitated by 
 passion; and his usually easy, careless expression 
 had given place to one of alarm. 
 
 " What is the matter, Cousin Fred ? Aren't you 
 going to Mrs. Hammersford's ? " 
 
 " No, Cousin Alice : come into the parlor, I want 
 to talk with you." He drew her to a seat, and, 
 without answering her eager questions, commenced 
 talking rapidly. 
 
 " You see, I went down to Mr. Cady's office to 
 meet William, and, not finding any one there, I 
 stepped into the back room, and took up a book. I 
 know not how long I had sat there, till I heard 
 father's name mentioned in an earnest conversation. 
 I listened, and found that the two clerks were talk 
 ing about the failures of the last week." 
 
 " ' There's Sterne and Bros.,' said one, * they're 
 completely smashed up ; and Arlington has " gone 
 by the board," and so has Longstreet.' 
 
 " * Yes,' said the other ; ' and do you know that 
 this last was largely indebted to Whiting 1 They 
 say he owed him twenty thousand dollars, taking it 
 all in all.' ' Yes, I heard of it this morning,' re-
 
 A CLOUD IN THE SKY. 163 
 
 i 
 
 sunied the first. * They say he found it as much as he 
 could do to meet his last payments ; and, now the 
 first of January is at hand, he will probably go by 
 the board too. People thought he was safe as gos 
 pel, but I reckon he's oil his last legs now.' ' Sure 
 enough,' said the other confidently : * extravagance 
 and expensive habits have killed him. Why they 
 say his daughters throw away money like water, 
 and that fast son of his is enough to ruin a prince.' " 
 
 Fred was becoming very excited. His eyes were 
 glowing with suppressed feeling, his hands were 
 clenched, and he seemed altogether more like one be 
 side himself than the easy, thoughtless boy he was. 
 
 " Dear cousin," said Alice, laying her hand on his 
 arm, " don't tell me, if it makes you feel so badly. 
 Wait till another time ! " 
 
 He shook her off almost rudely. " Yes, I will 
 tell of it," exclaimed he ; " for it makes me mad ! A 
 pretty piece of gossip they made of it to be sure ! 
 going on about our private business ; and wonder 
 ing even whether the horses would be sold, and if 
 old Greenleaf would buy them ; and what the house 
 would probably bring if it were put up at auction." 
 
 " Cousin Fred ! " 
 
 " Yes ; and, to cap the climax, venturing some 
 pretty little opinions of their own about pride, folly, 
 &c. Now, Alice, what do you think of it ? " and 
 Fred turned his glowing, excited face towards his 
 cousin.
 
 164 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 If he had attempted to read that face, he would 
 have found it a study. The sweet seriousness usual 
 to her still sat upon the high brow ; the lines around 
 the mouth had lost their wonted firmness, and now 
 quivered with emotion, through which one might 
 still see an effort at stern self-control ; and the lights 
 and shadows played alternately over her features, 
 expressing the hope and fear of the mind, pity for 
 Fred, mingled with apprehension of coming evil. 
 One sometimes lives an hour of thought in a single 
 minute. So Alice saw her dream-castles vanish, and 
 her hopes and aims swallowed up in a threatening 
 cloud of evil. But the selfish fear was not enter 
 tained, and she turned to answer Fred's question. 
 " I think," she said, " that my Cousin Fred has 
 heard a gossipping rumor, and is distressing himself 
 unnecessarily." 
 
 " But, Alice, you can't realize it, you can't see 
 it as I do. To hear those sixpenny fellows using 
 our name like common property ! It would have 
 roused even your cool blood." 
 
 " Have you any reason to think that Uncle Wil 
 liam is involved ? " 
 
 " I had not thought of it before this. But now I 
 remember that father has looked pale and careworn 
 lately. And, when I asked him for money yester 
 day, he put me off, and said something about diffi 
 culty in meeting payments. O Alice ! if this 
 thing should come upon us, what will we do ? "
 
 A CLOUD IN THE SKY. 165 
 
 " It is so sudden," said Alice. " I trust it is a 
 mere rumor ; but at all events we must hope in God, 
 and take courage." 
 
 l( That's what you always say," returned Fred. " It 
 seems to me, Alice, that your religion is a general 
 panacea for all the ills of life. But it can't make 
 the money we need, nor can it prevent an attach 
 ment by our creditors, it don't do us any practical 
 good ! And it makes you so cool about every thing. 
 While I am in a fever of excitement, you sit and 
 look at me like a Greek statue, as if we were not 
 standing on the brink of ruin, as if we were not in 
 danger of losing every thing worth living for." 
 
 " But I am not in such danger, Cousin Fred. Is 
 the horizon of life bounded by the rim of a gold 
 coin ? Heaven forbid ! " 
 
 " But what will you do ? Despicable as gold 
 seems to you, it is the only source of comfort in this 
 life. Honor, position, peac* circle in its circumfer 
 ence. What shall we do without it ? " 
 
 " Have we not mutual love, strong hands, willing 
 hearts, my dear cousin ? " said Alice. 
 
 " All theory," said Fred. " I never can under 
 stand you, when you come upon these things, Alice. 
 It seems more like a poet's song than a possible 
 truth. I tell you, Cousin Alice, poetry and senti 
 ment, and fine theory, will do very well on a sofa in 
 an elegant drawing-room ; but take it in a homely 
 kitchen, with the hands to work it out, instead of the
 
 166 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 mouth to speak it, and its robes of fine gossamer 
 give place to common homespun, and its rainbow 
 dyes to the dust and smoke of prosaic work." 
 
 Alice smiled. It was a sad smile, yet through it 
 Fred could see the hope and courage of her soul. 
 "You must excuse me, Cousin Alice," said he ; " but 
 I am afraid your moonshine would all melt away in 
 sweeping a room or peeling potatoes." 
 
 " I will not boast, Cousin Fred. I do not know 
 how much courage I should have. I hope the trial 
 will not come ; but, if it does, God* helping me, I 
 will do my duty." 
 
 " Forgive me, Alice," said Fred impulsively, kiss 
 ing her cheek. " You are too good to live. One 
 of these days, I shall see you flying away like the 
 angels in our picture of the shepherds." 
 
 The generous love in Fred's face chased away the 
 dark trouble that had brooded over it, as a burst of 
 sunshine sometimes hangs a bow on the darkest 
 cloud. 
 
 " There now, Cousin Fred, you begin to look 
 quite like yourself again." 
 
 He rose to go, and the flush faded from his hand 
 some face. 
 
 " We will hope for the best," said Alice, as she 
 left the room. 
 
 The carriage that bore Mrs. Whiting and her 
 fashionable daughters to the scene of display had 
 rolled away from the door before Alice sought rest
 
 A CLOUD IN THE SKY. 167 
 
 and thought in the drawing-room. Only one gas- 
 burner threw a feeble light through the apartment, 
 and seemed to melt every object into an indiscrimi 
 nate haze. She did not turn on the gas, for she 
 liked the soft twilight-like shadow better. She could 
 see the little marble clock on the mantel-piece point 
 ing to the hour of nine. The coal in the grate 
 burned low, and the pictures on the walls rested 
 half in light and half in shadow. Alice nestled 
 down in the window-seat, and drew the crimson cur 
 tains around her. Here, for the first time, she began 
 to question with herself. Why was she left alone 
 in that great house ? Why had not Mrs. Hammers- 
 ford invited her ? To be sure, she was not ac 
 quainted with her ; but then neither was Ada. 
 Then it occurred to her that probably Ada had been 
 introduced through Lizzie ; and she knew that Lizzie 
 never would speak to her fashionable friends of her 
 plain, unbrilliant, home-like cousin. No : she did 
 not wonder now. The thought cost her a moment's 
 pang ; but Alice had known too many real sorrows, 
 had seen too much of life, to be long disquieted be 
 cause a vain, giddy girl had not seen fit to notice 
 her. Her thoughts referred to Lizzie's breakfast- 
 table conversation. This young Mr. Hall, who 
 could he be? "A nephew of Mrs. Hammersford, 
 lately from Europe ! " Could it be the same ? No : 
 he had never mentioned having any relatives in New 
 York. Then her mind turned back upon itself, and
 
 168 
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 tried to analyze its thought. Why should she 
 care? Why should she think of Edward Hall at 
 all ? She tried to dismiss the subject ; but as often 
 it returned again, with this disagreeable reflection, 
 What if it should be the same ? He would see 
 Ada there, and inquire for her. What would he 
 think of it ? 
 
 Alice heard her uncle's step in the hall. Her 
 first impulse was to fly and open the door for him ; 
 but, with a dull, heavy tread he passed on, and 
 Alice heard the library door close after him. Here 
 was a new cause for apprehension. Her uncle never 
 went to the library in the evening, he always sat 
 in the drawing-room. Again : all his family knew 
 that when he went there it was upon business, and 
 that he never liked to be disturbed. She felt anx 
 ious and lonely. She longed to go to her uncle to 
 pour out her affection, and to cheer him with little 
 offices of love ; but she would not intrude on his 
 privacy. So she drew the crimsom curtains yet 
 closer around her, and thought of the threatening 
 evil which brooded over her uncle's affairs. She 
 had never dreamed of her uncle ever failing, for he 
 was reputed immensely wealthy. Then she thought 
 of her hopes and plans, of her studies almost com 
 pleted, of the honorable place she hoped to hold as 
 a teacher ; and felt that she could not give them all 
 up. She looked at her hands, they were soft and 
 white. Would they be able to earn a livelihood !
 
 A CLOUD TO THE SKY. 169 
 
 Would she be a burden or help to "her uncle ? 
 Should she sta^ there, or go out into the world ? 
 
 So Alice thought on, imagining what she should 
 do in case their fears were verified, yet hoping all 
 the time that it would prove a mistaken rumor. 
 The little clock slowly struck eleven, and its tones 
 called back her wandering thoughts. "What can 
 be the matter with Uncle William ? " thought she. 
 " Two whole hours in the library, and no supper ! 
 What if he should be sick ! " 
 
 She went into the kitchen. Only one little taper 
 glimmered on the table, yet giving light enough to 
 discover Content fast asleep in a corner. 
 
 " Content ! Content ! " 
 
 "Yes, massa! " 
 
 " It's me, 'Tenty. I want you to get me a 
 candle." 
 
 " Oh ! it's Missee Alice. I've been dreaming of 
 the New Jerusalem, bress de Lord ! Ole 'Tent soon 
 be in heaven." 
 
 " Well, well, Content, if you're awake, get me a 
 candle. Where's Sam ? " 
 
 " He done gone wid Ole John, honey. He not 
 much 'count no ways, so I tole him to take hisself 
 off." 
 
 " You must keep awake, Content ; for the family 
 Ai-e away, and I'm going into the library." 
 
 She stole to the library door on tiptoe, and stood 
 
 a moment listening. There was no sound. She 
 
 s
 
 170 THE SHELVES OF LOVE. 
 
 rapped softly, and bent her head, expecting to hear 
 her uncle's voice say, " Come in." Still there was 
 no sound. Once, twice, three times she repeated 
 her timid knock; but the door remained firmly 
 closed, and the same mocking stillness was the only 
 answer. 
 
 Alice was alarmed. In her eager love she saw 
 her uncle sick, perhaps dying ; and, turning the 
 knob softly, she entered. By the soft rays of the 
 study-lamp, she could see her uncle bending over a 
 heap of closely written papers, wholly absorbed in 
 his work. He did not even notice her entrance, but 
 kept on rapidly sorting out old papers, and casting 
 up accounts with an unwearied pen. 
 
 It was a most uncomfortable position. Alice did 
 not know whether to retreat softly or speak to him. 
 She put down her candle on a table, and stood 
 watching him at his labor. His face, so mild and 
 beautiful in repose, was now marked by heavy lines, 
 as if of care or watching ; his broad, white forehead 
 was knit, as if in intense thought ; and the lips 
 were compressed as if in pain. The expression of 
 the whole face was one of haggard anguish. Surely, 
 one looking upon it for the first time might hope it 
 was not an index to the mind. 
 
 The stillness of the room was only broken by the 
 hurried movement of Mr. Whiting's pen. Alice 
 hardly dared to breathe. She dreaded, and yet 
 almost hoped, that her uncle would discover her.
 
 CLOUD IN THE SKY. 171 
 
 Still he wrote on, and still she could not gather 
 courage to address him. Suddenly the busy hand 
 stopped its work, his face relaxed into a look of 
 utter weariness, and he sank back in his chair with 
 a deep groan. 
 
 Alice sprang forward, with utter self-forgetful* 
 ness. " Dear Uncle William, what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Why, child, how came you here ? This is no 
 place for you." 
 
 " I know it," returned Alice ; " but I was afraid 
 you were sick. Will you forgive me ? " 
 
 Alice had a peculiar faculty for never being 
 refused any thing. Mr. Whiting had looked grave, 
 but now his brow softened. "Where is your aunt 
 and the girls ? " asked he. 
 
 " Gone to Mrs. Hammersford's soiree ; and Fred 
 has not yet returned from his club." 
 
 " The butterflies of fashion," he muttered. " How 
 will they bear the winter with their painted wings ? " 
 
 " Dear uncle, you are weary and half sick. You 
 have forgotten your supper. Come into the dining- 
 room, you will feel better then." 
 
 " No, Alice, I am not hungry. You had better 
 go back to the drawing-room. I am very busy." 
 
 " But, uncle, I wish you would have some supper. 
 I will pour out your tea myself. Don't you want 
 me to ? " 
 
 Mr. Whiting drew Alice towards him, and put 
 her on his knee. His face was very, very grave.
 
 172 
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOTE. 
 
 A long time he looked into her eyes, till she 
 dropped their lids beneath the searching gaze. 
 
 " Little Alice, do you love me ? " 
 
 " So much ! Uncle William ! " 
 
 " But do you love me, or my wealth ? Would 
 you love me as -well if I could give you none of the 
 advantages you have now ? " 
 
 " Dear uncle, what have I done that you should 
 douht me ? Did I not love my father and mother ? 
 They were poor. Next to them, I love you best." 
 
 A tear stole down Mr. Whiting's face. Alice 
 had not seen him weep since the day he stood 
 beside her mother's death-bed. 
 
 " Thank God," he said, " I shall have one trea 
 sure left ! " 
 
 Alice counted one more Sheaf in the Harvest of 
 Love.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DARK PROSPECTS. 
 
 THE morning papers were full of the " great 
 failure." Edward Hall laid them aside, and thought 
 of the dazzling beauty of Lizzie "Whiting, the belle 
 of yesternight. Sic transit, said he to himself. 
 Then he remembered his promise to call that 
 morning. 
 
 He ascended the long flight of marble steps, and 
 was ushered into the drawing-room. While await 
 ing Lizzie, he looked over a number of daguerreo 
 types which lay upon a side-table. One by one he put 
 them aside : they were the faces of strangers. But 
 why did he pause, and gaze earnestly at one ? Why 
 did he start, as if in a sudden surprise ? Surely he 
 had seen that face before. It could be no other, 
 it was the face of Alice Morton ! 
 
 " Miss Whiting," said he, when they had ex 
 hausted memories of last night's soiree, " will you 
 tell me who this picture represents ? It reminds 
 me strongly of a friend I once knew." 
 
 " That ? Oh ! that's my cousin, Alice Morton. 
 She has lived six or seven years with us. Her 
 parents died when she was quite young, and mother 
 took her out of sheer charity." 
 
 It was a wonder that Edward's look did not
 
 174 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 freeze Lizzie. " I am well acquainted with her," 
 said he ; " and she is one of my most valued 
 friends. I shall do myself the pleasure to call and 
 see her. Good morning, Miss "Whiting." And 
 Edward bowed himself from the room. 
 
 From this time Lizzie had another cause for dis 
 liking Alice. She had wounded her vanity. 
 
 The failure of Mr. Whiting was complete. The 
 fashionable world, which had smiled on their success, 
 now turned to them the cold shoulder, and talked 
 openly of their folly and extravagance. An attach 
 ment was put upon their house and property, and 
 they must leave their present home in a month. If 
 some creditors, more lenient than others, had not 
 compassionated their distress, they would have been 
 wholly stripped of their property. Adversity shows 
 up the character. Mr. Whiting, nervous and sensi- 
 tive> shut himself up in his room, away from the 
 sight of his friends. Mrs. Whiting lay really sick 
 with a low fever. She was irritable and nervous to 
 the last degree. 
 
 Of course all hope of the girls' return to school 
 was abandoned. The family took their meals almost 
 in silence, and the great rooms below were shut up 
 in dreary gloom. Two weeks had passed since 
 Christmas, and as yet no plan had been decided 
 upon in regard to their future. Mrs. Whiting would 
 not have exerted herself to think of these things, 
 even if her health had allowed ; and Ada and Lizzie
 
 DAEK PROSPECTS. 175 
 
 seemed paralyzed by the shock. Fred was moody 
 and desponding. There was no one to rally the 
 sinking energies of the family. 
 
 Mr. Whiting made no effort. He looked back 
 upon his life as upon a wasted heritage. " I wasted 
 my substance in riotous living," he said, " and now 
 it is given to another." He avoided the society 
 even of Alice and his children, for he thought he 
 saw reproach in their faces. 
 
 One day a letter was put into Alice's hand. The 
 well-known handwriting of Ellen Lee met her eye. 
 " Only think, dear Alice," she wrote, " I am to 
 enter on my duties as teacher next week. Now no 
 more bufferings with poverty, no more taunts. The 
 sky is clear blue, and hope has painted a beautiful 
 rainbow over it. By the way, I forgot to tell you 
 that mother and I have decided to move, that we 
 may live near the institute. It will be much 
 pleasanter, you know, for me to live at home. So 
 the old house will be shut up, unless some one will 
 rent or buy it. Wouldn't you like to take it as a 
 summer residence ? I am laughing at my folly, 
 Alice, in asking such a question. It would be 
 funny, indeed, to see your uncle's fine family in our 
 homely rooms. Brother Charles is doing finely : 
 report says he bids fair to become a finished artist. 
 Grandpa sends love. I am so proud and happy, 
 Alice, I don't know one now that I envy." 
 
 Alice thought of Ellen's hopeful future. Her's
 
 176 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 / 
 
 had been hopeful once, but the cup had been dashed 
 from her lips when it seemed overflowing with hap 
 piness. She crushed the letter in her hand, and 
 bowed her head upon it ; while her heart sent forth 
 an earnest prayer for faith and strength. There was 
 nothing left but prayer ; but this was enough for 
 Alice. She remembered the promise, "Thou wilt 
 keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on 
 thee." Slowly hope and courage came back to her. 
 She had been fed with manna in the wilderness. 
 
 "Lord, evermore give me this bread," she said 
 aloud. " Realize to me the promise, that in due time 
 we shall reap, if we faint not." 
 
 "Alice!" said a voice near her. Mr. Whiting 
 took a seat beside her. Alice thought he looked ten 
 years older, so well had care and trouble told their 
 story in his face. 
 
 " Alice," said he, " I have ruined your hopes too. 
 No wonder you pray, I wish I could. I have 
 even more need, for I fear even my own little Alice 
 may take away her love for me." 
 
 " Oh, Uncle William ! pray don't talk so ! I'm 
 happy, yes, very happy," she repeated to herself, 
 as if striving to make herself think so even against 
 the dull, weary beatings of her heart ; " we shall 
 all be happy together. And you and Aunt Emily 
 and we children will all love each other very much. 
 See ! do I not look hopeful ? I feel really strong, 
 and would like to go to work right away if I only
 
 DA.EK PROSPECTS. 177 
 
 knew what to do. Haven't you something that I 
 can do for you ? " she said, putting her cheek close 
 up to her uncle's, and smiling, although, in spite of 
 her effort, the smile was a sad one. 
 
 " Yes, dear," he answered fondly, "you can pray 
 for me. Perhaps the prayers of two angels one 
 in heaven and one here may prevail. You were 
 talking about work. Do you think those little 
 white hands would bear soiling at hard labor ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes indeed, uncle ! Only tell me what to 
 do. Try me and see." 
 
 Mr. Whiting's face brightened somewhat. " Let 
 us see," he said, " what can you do ? what quali 
 fications have you ? How would little Miss Sobriety 
 look at a churn or over an ironing -table ? " 
 
 " Very well, I think, uncle," said Alice de 
 murely. 
 
 " Perhaps I shall put you to the test. How 
 would you like to live in the country, and milk 
 cows, and make your own bread and butter ? " 
 
 Alice's eyes sparkled. Visions of free, green 
 meadows and country air, and whole depths of blue 
 sky, already rose up before her. 
 
 " Aj^3 you going ? Oh, I hope you will, Uncle 
 William ! You know I am a country girl myself. 
 How fine it would be ! I should have a flower-plot, 
 and a peony and honeysuckle over the windows; 
 and we would have plenty of light and air and sun 
 shine. When are you going, Uncle William ! " 
 8*
 
 178 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " I didn't say I was going, did I ? " said Mr. 
 "Whiting. 
 
 " Now, uncle, don't plague me," said Alice ; for 
 she saw her earnestness had amused him. "I am 
 going to sit on your knee, as I used to do, and you 
 shall tell me all about it. Come, uncle, tell me a 
 story, * please,' as the children say." 
 
 Mr. Whiting stroked her brown hair, and drew 
 his arm around her. 
 
 " Years ago," he began, " on the banks of the 
 Hudson, there stood a pretty white cottage. It was 
 a sweet, fairy-like spot. Even in all my many 
 rovings, I can remember nothing half so beautiful ; 
 and my love returns to it as the faithful needle 
 points to the polar star. That was my home. My 
 father was an honest, open-hearted farmer, proud of 
 his broad acres, o his wife and son. I have been 
 said to resemble him much. I have his brown hair 
 and blue eyes. No one that I have ever seen could 
 resemble my mother. When all my father's stern 
 ness was required to check my fiery impulses, a 
 word or look from her brought me submissive to her 
 feet, as David's harp charmed the passionate Saul. 
 In this peaceful solitude I grew from chikyiood to 
 youth, from youth to manhood. My father, despite 
 his quiet tastes, was ambitious, and hoped his son 
 would take a place in the world higher than his own. 
 I read the lives of distinguished men, of successful 
 merchants ; stories of the fame and glory of the old
 
 DARK PEOSPECTS. 179 
 
 world ; Homer and Virgil at school, till my young 
 heart glowed with their ambition, as many a youth 
 ful heart has and will again. My mother always 
 shook her head at this course of reading. * Youth 
 is headstrong and foolish enough of itself,' she 
 would say. 'I am afraid it is not the. best thing 
 to develop a character.' 'Nonsense, Mary,' my 
 father would say : ' the boy has spirit. I want to 
 see him make his mark in the world. He must win 
 his spurs, and I shall help him do it.' 
 
 " Years brought changes to us. From a wayward 
 boy, I became a headstrong youth. Even my mo 
 ther's prayers and tears could not keep me from my 
 long, daring rambles ; and often I would be absent 
 from home a week. One soft June day (shall 1 
 ever forget it?) I came home through the woods, 
 where I had been roving for three days. I entered 
 the house in my usually boisterous manner, when 
 one came to me with a hush upon his lips, and told 
 me that my mother was dead. She had died, and 
 left me her blessing; but I was like the prodigal, 
 without his hope. I went into the room where my 
 mother lay, and gazed upon her still, white face. 
 If tears will wash away sin, I believe I wept enough 
 to blot out a multitude. I had stood in my own 
 strength. I believed that my mother belonged to 
 me of right, that it was necessary and proper she 
 should love me as she did ; but, beyond this, I be 
 lieved all love was a myth. The sight of that still
 
 180 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 face took the pride out of me ; and the love which 
 ever before I had considered a weakness pulled at 
 my heartstrings with a force which no philosophy 
 could withstand. Suddenly from one of the shut 
 ters a little ray of sunlight stole in, and rested 
 upon the face of the sleeper. As if a blow had 
 struck me, I started back. My mother's words flashed 
 over me : ' My son,' said she, * when I took the 
 vows for you at your baptism, a beautiful ray of 
 sunlight stole in and rested upon your face. And I 
 hailed it as an omen that you would be a sunray in 
 the world, a blessing to me and others.' Alas! 
 was not that sunray a condemnation ? 
 
 " I was never, from that time, quite what I was be 
 fore. I was still proud and ambitious, and self- 
 reliant : but my heart was like a magazine when a 
 spark falls into it ; for, if ever any one spoke the 
 name of my mother, or I saw a face which recalled 
 hers, my feelings would bear down pride in one 
 passionate outbreak as fierce as the first. To this 
 hour the sunlight has for me a faded glory ; and a 
 beam streaming through some crevice into a room 
 has power to move me as nothing else can." 
 
 Mr. Whiting spoke with difficulty, as if the words 
 choked him, and Alice felt a tear drop on her hand. 
 Her own fell fast. " I did not think, uncle," she 
 said, " that your story would be so sad." 
 
 " Other years passed on. My father died, leav 
 ing me his blessing, and a small fortune, with which
 
 DARK PROSPECTS. 181 
 
 to begin life. I listened to the song of ambition, 
 and ray battle-field was the mart of trade. I learned 
 to drive a sharp bargain, and to glory in overreach 
 ing a rival. 'I made myself a name and fortune, 
 and married, as it was said, * very advantageously.' 
 But at last the world and my ambition have deserted 
 me. Weary of life, disgusted with the world, my 
 only prayer i%that I may die in peace. My old 
 home has passed into the hands of strangers ; but I 
 wish to seek some quiet country place where I can 
 rest from the turmoil of life, and, if possible, grow 
 open-hearted and generous once more." 
 
 Alice grasped her letter as if a sudden thought 
 had occurred to her. If her uncle intended going 
 into the country, he might like Elmwood Village, 
 and perhaps he would buy the Lee Farm. And that 
 would be so near the seminary. Who knew ? per 
 haps she might be a teacher even yet. With trem 
 bling diffidence, she placed the letter before him. 
 He seemed favorably impressed, and* asked her many 
 questions relative to the place, inquiring about the 
 house, land, society, &c. 
 
 "The farm is a beautiful and rich one," said 
 Alice ; " but the house is old. If it were repaired, 
 however, I think it would be a very pleasant dwell 
 ing. Should you rent a house, or buy, uncle ? " 
 
 "I shall probably buy," replied he. "I have 
 personal property which my creditors cannot touch, 
 sufficient for this. I will think of it. I like Elm-
 
 182 
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 wood very much. It is quiet and rural. I think 
 possibly I may buy this place." 
 
 From this time, Alice felt as if the matter 'was the 
 same as settled.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 AN OFFEK. 
 
 " For life is but a struggle of base will 
 With intellectual purpose." 
 
 "A LADY in the parlor, to see Miss Alice." 
 Alice started up from the chair where she had been 
 sitting, in the midst of trunks and boxes, and com 
 menced arranging her somewhat disordered dress. 
 It was but a week before they would leave the city, 
 and the house seemed in one constant tumult, save 
 when Alice undertook to draw some system out of 
 the chaos. Lizzie and Ada, unused to care or labor 
 of any kind, grew impatient over the most trivial 
 duties, and finally would throw them by in dis 
 gust. Fred spent most of his time away ; for he 
 could not bear, he said, to see their home so dese 
 crated. In fact, this misfortune had had a painful 
 effect upon Fred. He was gloomy and obstinate ; 
 rarely saying any thing at home, and then never a 
 pleasant word. He had a mercurial disposition, 
 happy or sad, according to circumstances ; and conse 
 quently his spirits were now below zero. All his 
 sharp raillery and sparkling fun degenerated into 
 bitter sarcasm, which he delighted to pour out upon 
 Lizzie, for the bare pleasure of witnessing her anger. 
 Edward Hall was his favorite topic. He had called
 
 184 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 upon Alice, as he had promised ; and Fred was not 
 long in discerning his sister's discomfiture. Conse 
 quently, Lizzie heard all about the little boy who 
 didn't eat his supper, because he couldn't get it, and 
 sundry stories about rockets that came down sticks, 
 and other consolatory suggestions. This usually 
 ended in a fit of tears on the part of Lizzie, and a 
 complaint to her mother, who ended the matter by 
 saying that her children were her plagues, and 
 her health miserable, and she didn't know what was 
 going to become of them all. 
 
 " I wonder who it can be ! " said Alice, as she 
 descended the stairs. 
 
 The softened light which came through the heavy 
 curtains revealed a lady dressed in black, seated 
 upon a couch. Her face was shaded by a mourning 
 veil; but Alice's heart gave a quick bound, and, 
 springing forward, she grasped the stranger's hand 
 with a warm pressure. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Gushing ! " she exclaimed, while 
 her eyes spoke a double welcome. 
 
 " Call me mother, Alice ; it was her wish, you 
 know." 
 
 How that trembling voice recalled Lily's ! In 
 spite of herself, Alice's eyes moistened. The 
 memory of their lost one seemed floating around 
 them, sanctifying their hearts with a loving and 
 holy influence. 
 
 "She was my only treasure, Alice," said Mrs.
 
 AN OFFER. 185 
 
 Gushing ; " and her loss seems as fresh to ine to 
 day as it did then. Listen, Alice," she continued. 
 " I have come here to make a proposition to you, in 
 which my whole heart is interested. I have never 
 forgotten my dear Lily's last wish. She loved you 
 as a sister ; and my heart yearns towards you as a 
 child. The beautiful form of my child-angel comes 
 to me in my dreams, and joins our hands together as 
 she did then. O Alice ! may I hope it may be as 
 she wished? My heart is empty and desolate. 
 Lonely and broken-hearted, I have come to give 
 you that heart, if you will live in it and bless it ; to 
 pour out its affection upon my Lily's sister, and 
 make her my own true and rightful child. Alice, 
 can you let me go back to my desolate home, with 
 nothing to love or live for ? " 
 
 Alice leaned her head upon the couch, and wept 
 unrestrainedly. The sweet, pleading tones had such 
 a soft tenderness in them, mingled with great 
 sadness, that Alice felt as if she would like to throw 
 her arms about her friend's neck, and rest in this 
 safe asylum. But she must think, before she gave 
 herself away. Her uncle had given her a home, and 
 educated her. As long as she could benefit them, 
 did not her duty say " Stay ! " 
 
 Mrs. Gushing had been watching the many 
 changes which came over Alice's face. She had 
 not anticipated any hesitancy on her part, for she 
 knew she had never been entirely happy at her
 
 186 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 uncle's. But Alice thought of her uncle's words, 
 " Thank God, I shall have one treasure left ! " Her 
 conversations with him had shown her how dear she 
 was to him, how much she had grown into his 
 love. Could she leave him, even for a mother's love 
 and a princely inheritance ? 
 
 " No, mother," she said, " it cannot be. My uncle 
 looks upon me as a daughter. There is no one in 
 Uncle William's family that has known poverty, or 
 who can comfort him in his affliction. I believe I 
 may help them a little ; perhaps show them the 
 higher good, which lies all around us, if our eyes 
 could but see it, and were not blinded by the glitter 
 of gold. I feel how great is the sacrifice I shall 
 make, but it is a cross I must bear for duty ; and I 
 know that the dry wood of many a cross has budded 
 and blossomed, and borne heavenly fruit." 
 
 She had risen in her emotion, and now stood with 
 clasped hands and tearful eyes looking into Mrs. 
 Cushing's face. Surely, could that high thought 
 and noble speech be mere affectation ? Could that 
 DC a theory which would melt away in the smoke of 
 a homely kitchen ? Such sublime trusts are never 
 found by logic. They are the outbreathings of a 
 spirit at one with the Infinite Love. They are the 
 expression of a patience and hope born of Christian 
 principle. 
 
 Tears fell over Mrs. Cushing's face. "I ought 
 not to have expected so great a thing," said she.
 
 AN OFFER. 187 
 
 " I suppose I am not worthy yet." She talked long 
 with Alice, reminded her of the labor and trial of 
 poverty, and of the weariness of the hard world ; 
 but Alice replied in the same lofty language, though 
 with tearful sadness. 
 
 She rose to go, and extended her hand in parting, 
 " God give you strength and grace, my dear one, 
 that whatever path you tread may be brightened by 
 the knowledge of a good life ; and may our Father 
 give his angels charge concerning you ! One thing 
 more, dear Alice, will you come to me whenever 
 your duty tells you you may ? " 
 
 A weeping assent, a clasp of the hand, and she 
 was gone. Alice sank down upon the couch, and, 
 burying her face in her hands, tried to think. In 
 the world of fashion this would have been called a 
 grand^ chance. Few could have withstood such 
 temptations as money, dress, ease, to say nothing 
 of the opportunity of polish and education. Alice 
 believed not in enjoying for its mere sake, but in 
 doing. She held that every desire, every ambition 
 and love, should be crucified, which kept the soul 
 from walking in the straight path of duty, or reaching 
 its highest development. Such a doctrine annihilates 
 selfishness. But there was another and yet stronger 
 temptation. Mr. and Mrs. Gushing we're going 
 abroad. He had been chosen minister to a foreign 
 court ; and his wife was to go with him, that she 
 might forget her recent sorrow in the midst of new
 
 188 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 scenes. What temptation could well be stronger to 
 a mind with an exquisite love of the beautiful in 
 nature, art, and humanity ? As the daughter of a 
 United States Minister, the very noblest society 
 would be open to her. Was it not something to 
 be thought of? Had she decided wisely? All 
 these thoughts crowded upon her. That night, in 
 the stillness of her room, she gave these doubts full 
 audience ; weighing pleasure against duty, desire 
 against conviction, " the baser will against the intel 
 lectual purpose." The fair halls of that beautiful 
 home rose up before her ; the harmony of a life shel 
 tered from the rude blasts of poverty and the world 
 might be hers. The blessing of a mother's love and 
 the kind hand of a father were offered her, yet she 
 would not reach forth her hand and take them. 
 
 " There is yet time," whispered stubborn Pesire. 
 " Your whole soul protests against such a sacrifice. 
 Go to Mrs. Gushing, and tell her so." 
 
 Then rose up a vision of gay Paris, and blue-eyed 
 Venice, and soft, dreamy Italy. - Her feet might 
 wander in the shades where Dante mused and Tasso 
 sung ; she might pluck a leaf from the tomb of Vir 
 gil. In that hour, she felt how strong her enthu 
 siasm could be. 
 
 Then another thought came which had never 
 occurred to her before. Perhaps she would be 
 accounted a burden in her uncle's family. Could 
 she bear this ?
 
 AN OFFER. 189 
 
 Oh strangely mysterious human heart ! Like 
 the strings of a harp jarred by some rude hand, 
 so human passions drown its sweet harmonies in 
 harsh and stirring discords. So is it with us 
 all, till the breath of prayer wakens the golden 
 strings, and the hand of the great Harper, passing 
 over them, fills the life with the harmonies of love 
 and faith. 
 
 Months after this, in her distant country home, 
 Alice heard that Mr. and Mrs. Gushing had sailed 
 for Europe. If the thought cost her any pang, it 
 was known only to her own heart ; for she had 
 never said a word concerning it to her uncle. With 
 her usual energy and self-forgetfulness, she entered 
 upon her work, now here, now there, and every 
 where with words of counsel and courage to the 
 weaker spirits around her. 
 
 Mr. Whiting's creditors, more lenient than usual, 
 allowed the family many household articles to which 
 they had become endeared. Lizzie's piano went 
 with them, and the choicest of the pictures, with the 
 family portraits. The library was sold ; but many 
 good and valuable books were retained, as the pro 
 perty of Fred and Alice. The expense of servants 
 was out of the question. So John and Netta were 
 dismissed; but Content, being an old and valued 
 servant, was retained to aid them in their new home. 
 And Mr. Whiting also deemed it expedient to en 
 gage the services of our old friend, Samuel Lock-
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 ling ; since, having T)een bred on a farm, he would 
 make a very good farm-boy. 
 
 So, when the spring opened, the family left the 
 city and their fashionable friends, and went, as Mrs. 
 Whiting said, to " live in the back-woods." The vil 
 lage of Elmwood welcomed them with springing 
 flowers and budding trees ; and the fresh breeze 
 kissed their cheeks, as Alice said, " in pity for their 
 weary-heartedness." The old house had been well 
 fitted up, and a neat piazza added in front. Fred 
 and Alice arrived a day or two before the rest ; 
 while Mr. Whiting went back for his wife and 
 daughters. Alice was delighted with every thing ; 
 and her light spirits raised Fred's to such a degree 
 that he complimented the house for its very age and 
 picturesqueness, and said the arrangement of the 
 furniture was very tasteful. 
 
 " Yes ; and, Cousin Fred, don't you think these 
 pretty Venetian blinds are better than the stiff shades 
 they have in the city ? " said Alice. " And I have 
 had honeysuckle planted to run over the piazza ; 
 and altogether I believe its going to be charming. 
 I shall enjoy it ! Shant you, Fred ? " 
 
 " I don't know, Alice. I suppose I shall in time ; 
 but at present I think its rather dubious enjoyment. 
 There's no club, and no lyceum, and no society 
 worth looking at." . 
 
 " Why, there's Judge Hall, and his family. They 
 are very kind, and polished too. And then, cousin,
 
 AN OFFER. 191 
 
 you must forgive me, but I think I'm really glad 
 that there is no club here. It took so much of your 
 time. You will talk to me now more, and we can 
 read together in the long winter evenings. Wont 
 that be better than the club. Say, Fred, shan't you 
 like it better ? " 
 
 Fred answered the question with a half pleased, 
 half puzzled look. " Yes, Alice, I suppose I shall in 
 time. I don't mean any thing uncomplimentary ; but 
 then women can't understand these things, tisn't 
 to be expected they will, you know." 
 
 " Certainly not," said Alice, with her quiet smile, 
 which vexed Fred more than a hundred words 
 would have done. " I would not dare to meddle 
 with the weighty matters of the law." 
 
 " She does understand me too well," thought 
 Fred, "and thinks I am a useless, selfish article, 
 labelled, * Frederic Whiting,' fit only for holiday- 
 dress and fair weather." 
 
 " Come, cousin, I'm going to be your doctor out 
 here, and I think a long face an unfavorable symp 
 tom. Come, I've got something to show you." Arid 
 she fairly spirited him away through the great 
 kitchen into the sitting-room, and finally stopped to 
 take breath in a little room on trie west side of the 
 house, which looked as if it might have seen service 
 as a store-room. But, whatever might have been its 
 unromantic service in times past, it was evident that 
 busy hands had been at work there, relieving its
 
 192 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 plainness by little arts of grace and refinement. The 
 apartment scarcely exceeded the limits of a common 
 sleeping-room ; but a neat carpet covered the floor, 
 a pretty centre-table stood in the middle of the 
 room, and statues and vases looked out from every 
 corner like reminders of " auld lang syne." Fred's 
 eyes lighted with a genuine pleasure. " Why, 
 Alice, this is delightful ! Who fitted it up ? and 
 what is it for ? " 
 
 " It's our studio, Fred. I remembered the room. 
 The Lees used it as a clothes-room : but I teased 
 Uncle William to have it fitted up ; and I was here 
 all day yesterday, finishing it, and now it only lacks 
 the books." 
 
 " Dear Alice ! " broke in Fred. 
 
 " No, I'm not dear at all ! Every thing is cheap 
 in the country. And look here," she continued, 
 throwing up the sash, "here is a whole bed of 
 English violets ; and the west window too. Wont 
 it be delightful at sunset ? " 
 
 " Every thing is delightful where you are, Alice. 
 You make me ashamed of myself. While I sit with 
 idle hands, railing at Fortune for her ugly freak, 
 you go to work and do something to make yourself 
 and other people happy. And yet I think you feel 
 misfortune as much as 1 do. I wish I had your 
 secret." 
 
 The gay expression of her face sobered in a mo 
 ment. Laying her hand upon his arm, she said
 
 AN OFFER. 193 
 
 softly, " You will not find it in your club or lyceum, 
 Cousin Fred ; but it lies deeper down. ' Trust in 
 the Lord, and do good.' I try to take that as my 
 rule. But, Fred," and the old brightness came 
 back to lip and brow, "I am waiting for you to 
 help me unpack the books. I shall have to help 
 Content with the supper soon." 
 
 " You are not going to do any such thing, Alice. 
 I don't believe there is any need of coming quite so 
 low as that." 
 
 " Oh, I love to ! " said Alice, The little library 
 looked as cozy as could be, when they had finished, 
 and justified Alice's words of satisfaction. 
 
 " Just enough books to go round, Fijed ; " and 
 then she left him there, till the bell rang for tea.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 
 
 THE gray twilight that streamed into Alice's win 
 dow the next morning brought to her mind the 
 thought that that day must be a busy one for her, 
 since the rest of the family would be there bv noon. 
 Many arrangements still waited to be worked out by 
 her busy little fingers ; and, long before Fred and 
 Content were stirring, Alice had made a pilgrimage 
 through the rooms, to see that every thing looked as 
 well as it possibly could, and to put a finishing touch 
 here and there. 
 
 She passed through the great kitchen, over the 
 yellow-painted floor, and, safely sliding the bolt of 
 the back-door, stood in the open air. Those who 
 have lived in the country know that a breath of 
 country morning air is a very different thing from the 
 scarce cooled atmosphere of the city. For a moment 
 Alice felt nothing but thankfulness that she was onoe 
 more under the broad arching skies, and permitted to 
 look over such reaches of green meadows. The 
 maples were just putting forth their leaves, and their 
 shadows fell across the broad walk with pleasant cool 
 ness. The old well, with its oaken bucket and 
 moss-covered sweep, made a pretty picture in the 
 foreground. And, when the sun showed his great
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 195 
 
 face above the horizon, Alice wondered how any one 
 who could live in the country, and see such royal pic 
 tures every day, would choose the hot city,, with its 
 endless restlessness, and " noise of many feet." 
 
 She left the door open, and the slant sunbeams 
 fell into the old kitchen, lighting up the huge fire 
 place and the great pine table. 
 
 Every thing there was as neat and spotless as pains 
 taking could make it ; for Content had scoured the 
 tables to the last degree of brightness, and rubbed 
 the tin until it shone like silver. Alice could see 
 nothing to be improved here. Then she passed on 
 to the sitting-room. She tried to imagine how the 
 sight of it would affect her^aunt and cousins, 
 would they appreciate all the efforts that had been 
 made for their comfort ? There were the pretty 
 cane-seat chairs, and the neat crimson carpet, covered 
 with flecks of sunshine which streamed through the 
 half-open blinds Alice had admired so much. Her 
 aunt's favorite work-table stood in the corner; and 
 choice vases, shells, and pictures ornamented the 
 mantel. If the reom could have been improved, it 
 must have grown brighter beneath the look of lov 
 ing satisfaction Alice cast upon every thing. Just 
 as Content came down into the kitchen, Alice sur 
 prised her by darting like a young fawn through the 
 open door, out upon the lawn beneath the maples ; 
 and, before she had done wondering what could be 
 " de matter wid de dear chile," she came back,
 
 196 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 her arms filled with flowering lilacs, sprigs of hya 
 cinth, and English violets. 
 
 "See, Content, I am going to fill the vases. 
 Don't you think it will make the room look more 
 cheerful ? " 
 
 " You done get a death o' cold, Miss Alice. Jest 
 look at dera sleeves ! " 
 
 " Oh ! it don't hurt me, Content. What are you 
 going to have for breakfast ? " 
 
 Content was innocent of an idea, and declared she 
 would get any thing Alice ordered. 
 
 " What is there in the house, Content ? " 
 
 " Not much 'count of any thing, honey. Massa 
 Whiting done got few tings, an* say he be back 
 pretty soon." 
 
 " Well, Content, you may get what you like for 
 breakfast, and I will go and arrange for dinner. 
 Do you know, Content, that they will be here by 
 noon ? We must be sure and have a good dinner." 
 She turned round, and saw Fred looking sadly at 
 her. 
 
 " It's too bad, Alice, for you to be worried about 
 such trifles." 
 
 " A pretty substantial trifle, however," she re 
 plied, with a brightening smile. " Come, Fred, I 
 am going to press you into the service, and get you 
 to draw some water from the old well." 
 
 Fred made a wry face, but went, so hard is i' 
 for us to yield inclination to duty.
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 197 
 
 The old stage was sweeping slowly round the 
 bend. Mrs. Whiting leaned out to look at the 
 house her husband pointed out. " See there, Emi 
 ly," said he, " some friends of mine live there ; 
 don't you think it is a pretty place ? " 
 
 " "What do you mean, William ? I hope you don't 
 know anybody here. I'm sure I don't want to make 
 any acquaintances." 
 
 ' ' No : such society is not proper for genteel 
 people, who have been used to the highest circles," 
 said Lizzie scornfully. 
 
 " You will find, my daughter, that pride some 
 times drinks from the same cup with disappoint 
 ment. That is our home." 
 
 lf And there is Alice at the door," said Ada. 
 
 " And so that's where we're to be buried alive, is 
 it?" said Mrs. Whiting petulantly, as she threw 
 herself back on the seat. 
 
 " That's where I hope we shall be buried away 
 from the follies of fashionable life, Emily." 
 
 The kiss which Alice received from her uncle 
 ought to have satisfied any reasonable demand of 
 affection ; and Alice was satisfied. With expectant 
 eagerness she led them into the" cozy sitting-room, 
 and relieved them of their heavy travelling apparel. 
 
 " I believe I shall like it," said Ada, when she had 
 taken a survey of the room. " Why, Alice, where 
 did you pick up that white apron and pink ribbon ' 
 You look like a rosebud, poetically speaking."
 
 198 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " Just like you, Ada," said Lizzie. You like 
 every thing for five minutes. You never would 
 have been fit for society, even if we had not lost our 
 property. You have a shocking mauvais gout" 
 
 " I think it is a little bird's-nest of a home," said 
 Alice. " Mother used to say it needed only a happy 
 home and a contented heart to make up the sum of 
 human enjoyment." x 
 
 tf Remember who you are talking to," said Fred. 
 " Our guests are leaders of the ton, and with them 
 such things as hearts are obsolete articles." 
 
 The table had been set with the utmost care, and 
 Alice had endeavored to arrange it so that her aunt 
 and uncle would miss nothing to which they had 
 become accustomed. Even Mrs. Whiting's face lost 
 some of its gloominess, when she saw the care and 
 taste which had been bestowed upon every thing. 
 
 The afternoon was a busy one for all. Mr. Whit 
 ing went over the farm once more, and speculated 
 upon its resources. 
 
 His wife abandoned herself to the headache and 
 her sofa, declaring that she had no doubt that her 
 ride in that clumsy old stage would make her sick 
 for a week. 
 
 Even our old friend Sam busied himself in 
 making himself comfortable. He honored the 
 kitchen with his presence, much to the annoyance of 
 Content. There he sat on the huge wood-box, his 
 legs dangling over the sides, and his great hands
 
 .THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 199 
 
 hanging awkwardly out of his short jacket sleeves. 
 He was furiously whittling a pine stick, and every 
 now and then winking and glancing provokingly at 
 Content.. 
 
 " I say, 'Tent, jest you guess what I'm making 
 of this 'ere." 
 
 " Dunno. I reckon I kin 'tend to my own 'fairs," 
 replied Content, with haughty displeasure. 
 
 " Wall, seein' as its a friend, I guess I'll tell ye. 
 I've jest got tired o' seein' you wear them cotton 
 handkerchiefs, an' so I'm makin' you a wooden 
 comb to hold up the tresses, as Liz says. I say 
 'Tent," he added, with another leer, "why didn't 
 you have white wool ? Its a mighty sight cleaner - 
 lookin' than black." 
 
 " Sam ! " said Alice sternly, coming into the room 
 just as he dodged a blow from Content's weighty 
 palm. 
 
 He was still in a moment, and stood with open 
 eyes and mouth, staring at her, as if she had been 
 an apparition. Her voice only had an influence 
 over him, and he almost dropped the knife from his 
 hand in his sudden surprise. 
 
 " Have you done all the chores, Sam ? " 
 
 " I guess so," he answered sheepishly. 
 
 "Have you sawed the wood, as Uncle William 
 told you ? " 
 
 " I done jest so, miss." 
 
 " And washed the carryall, and fed the horse ? "
 
 00 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 "I guess like enough." 
 
 " Then go, and leave Content, if you cannot stay 
 here without troubling her." Sam went, glad to es 
 cape from Alice's eye, which seemed to read his 
 falsehood through and through. 
 
 " Gorry ! " said he, drawing a long breath, " I 
 didn't jist mean to tell that. I guess it comes 
 natural like for me to lie. But I didn't say yes or 
 no to either one or t'other." 
 
 To show his remorse, Sam performed his duties 
 immediately. 
 
 Alice gave Content some necessary orders, and 
 then went up to her room to rest awhile. But the 
 busy brain would not let her sleep. She puzzled 
 over problems too difficult for her to solve. This 
 life they had commenced, would it be a happy one ? 
 Her uncle knew nothing about farming. He had no 
 income. How were they to live ? She started at 
 her own thoughts, thinking that she had been ques 
 tioning of matters over which she had no control ; 
 and she resolved she would no longer distress her 
 self with such gloomy forebodings. 
 
 Little did the family dream, as time passed on, of 
 the cares and responsibility which Alice took 
 upon herself, little of the petty vexations -which 
 were mastered by her patience. Content knew 
 absolutely nothing of domestic economy. She 
 conducted the cooking with her usual extrava 
 gance. And all Alice's eloquence was required
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 201 
 
 to give her an idea of the altered circumstances of 
 the family. 
 
 The arrangement of the table devolved on Alice 
 also. She was scrupulous that no change should be 
 perceived here. How differently each one regarded 
 her as she performed these little household duties ! 
 Fred would look at her sadly, wondering at that 
 cheerful patience which he could not understand ; 
 yet contenting himself the while in a state of half 
 apathy, too much occupied with his own misfortunes 
 to think of being of any active use. 
 
 Spring lengthened into summer. The farm had 
 been well stocked, and, with the help of a reliable, 
 practical hired man, and Mr. Whiting's scientific 
 knowledge, well cultivated. But pride and idleness 
 x are poor inmates of a farm-house. If willing hands 
 had joined to make each burden light, there would 
 have been some hope of happy success. As it was, 
 the cost of the family was great, more than all Mr. 
 Whiting could realize from his land. Alice 
 sighed to herself, as she watched the lines of 
 his face growing deeper and deeper. He was 
 working too hard, that was plain ; but never 
 a word of complaint passed his lips. Mrs. Whiting 
 thought herself aggrieved in having to live out 
 of the world, and spent her time either in 
 fashionable indolence or useless embroidery. " It 
 was natural," she said, " for Alice to like house 
 work ; she had been born to it. It was as natural 
 9*
 
 202 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 for her to handle the broom as for Lizzie to play 
 the piano." 
 
 It was a hot August evening. The air had been 
 somewhat cooled by a heavy shower, and every leaf 
 and twig glittered in the moonbeams. Alice walked 
 back from the old kitchen door, where she had been 
 gazing out, recalling old memories, and took a seat 
 in the sitting-room. Her heart was softened, and 
 her eyes heavy with unshed tears. 
 
 Mr. Whiting leaned his head upon his hand des- 
 pondingly. " Wife," said he, " I believe we shall 
 have to curtail." 
 
 " How, for mercy's sake ? " said the lady dryly. 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure," he replied ; " but it 
 must be done. There's the land hardly will bring 
 me in any thing. It won't more than support us, 
 letting alone selling any thing." 
 
 " But there's the railroad stock," suggested Mrs. 
 Whiting. 
 
 " A dead loss almost," replied her husband. " It 
 wont probably bring more than twenty cents on a 
 dollar." 
 
 sl Oh, dear ! " groaned the lady. " William, what 
 do you trouble me with these petty things for ? 
 And my health so miserable ! " 
 
 Alice could see the fire flash into her uncle's 
 eyes, and then die out again in his effort for self- 
 control. 
 
 "Do you find it so hard to hear them, Emily?
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 203 
 
 What would you do if you had to meet and bear 
 them ? " 
 
 " Goodness knows, it would kill me ! I am 
 almost dead now. I miss my maid so much. I 
 was thinking only yesterday I would ask you to 
 send to the city for one." 
 
 1 ' Impossible, Emily. I tell you these money 
 cares are tightening their grasp. upon me every day. 
 Unless something comes to relieve me, we shall be 
 completely ruined." 
 
 " We are that now," said his wife. " We couldn't 
 be worse off." 
 
 Mr. Whiting thought very bitterly of what worse 
 thing might come, but said nothing. 
 
 Lizzie, Ada, and Fred talked apart. Lizzie was 
 eloquent in praise of a new acquaintance named 
 Henri Claremont. She declared she had not seen 
 such style and grace since she left New York ; while 
 Fred protested that he was a humbug, and told his 
 sister that if he had set his net for flies he wouldn't 
 take up with a gnat. Lizzie said he had promised to 
 call upon her soon. But she did not tell Fred that 
 she had allowed her new friend to believe her father 
 was an odd old gentleman, very rich, who lived 
 in the country during the warm season. 
 
 Mr. Whiting did not seem to hear any thing. 
 He still sat looking dreamily upon the floor. Alice 
 went over to his chair, and laid her hand upon his 
 arm.
 
 04 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE, 
 
 " Uncle "William, perhaps, I meant to say, may 
 be I might do something ! " 
 
 Mr. Whiting smiled incredulously, but drew Alice 
 nearer. "You have heard the story of the poor 
 prisoner," said he, "whose dungeon walls drew 
 nearer and nearer every day until they crushed him. 
 I am just such a prisoner." 
 
 " No, uncle ; for you have hope." 
 
 " It is a forlorn hope, child." 
 
 " Dear uncle," said Alice, putting her arm around 
 his neck, " you know poor help is better than none ; 
 and oftentimes the weakest hand may raise a burden. 
 I am going to tell you my plan. Miss Newton has 
 offered me a situation as assistant in the seminary. 
 Now, uncle, you know it will not take a great deal 
 of my time ; besides, I love to teach, and should 
 like to help you. It will not be much, to be sure ; 
 but it shall all be yours." 
 
 Mr. Whiting's face grew strangely agitated. 
 Strong passion was there, touched with kindly 
 sympathy and love, as if the depths of that manly 
 soul were being broken up, and the faith which still 
 lay deeply underlying it were streaming out, glorify 
 ing the face, till it shone with peaceful beauty. 
 Alice had never seen him look so before. 
 
 "My own little Alice," he said, "where will 
 your self-sacrifice end ? Truly God has blest me 
 more than I deserve. I know it all, my child. May 
 God bless you ! "
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 205 
 
 " What is it you mean, uncle ? " said Alice, with 
 filling eyes. 
 
 " I mean, Alice, that I was poor, and now am 
 rich ; for I have found a grateful and unselfish 
 child. Mrs. Gushing told me all. So you love your 
 Uncle William well enough to give up wealth and 
 ease to live with him in poverty." 
 
 How is it, that sometimes a thrill of electric sym 
 pathy will pass from soul to soul through the me 
 dium of a single wore! ? Mr. Whiting stretched 
 out his arms, and Alice came to them, and said 
 softly, with a soulful look, "Uncle." But in that 
 one word was expressed patience and hope and an 
 earnest love. 
 
 "Alice," said he, when they had sat silent for 
 some time, " what prevented you from going with 
 Mrs. Gushing ? " 
 
 " Duty." 
 
 " Who told you your duty ? " 
 
 "I asked of our Father a knowledge of the right 
 way." 
 
 " Why don't he tell me my duty, Alice ? " 
 
 " Don't you know his words, uncle ? ' Every 
 one that asketh receiveth.' " 
 
 " But why don't he show us the right, so that 
 none could go astray ? He could make us what he 
 would, and compel us to do right." 
 
 " I don't know, uncle. I suppose he means that 
 we should earn the gifts he sends. Our virtues
 
 206 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 would not be of so much value to us if God gave 
 them without our working." 
 
 tf So then you have earned your virtues, Alice ? " 
 said Mr. Whiting; with a return of his natural play 
 fulness. " But, Alice, you told me once that self- 
 denial was duty, and only in duty could we find 
 happiness. Now, can we be happy to be always 
 warring against our own natures ? and can God be 
 good to require it of us ? " 
 
 Alice looked distressed. She did not like to 
 parade her knowledge, yet she longed to convince 
 her uncle of the truth of that gospel he held so 
 lightly. 
 
 " Dear Uncle William, I am a child, almost. 
 Pray read for yourself. No one can do His work 
 till they have learned to love Him." 
 
 " But, Alice," said Mr. Whiting, eager to know 
 the reason of her faith, " I have never seen God, 
 and how can I love him? We love our friends 
 because we see them before us, and we are always 
 working for them, and they for us ; and we can tell 
 them of our love." 
 
 Was it the soft ray of moonlight which stole in at 
 the open door which gave that uplifted face such a 
 brightness, or was it the inner light of a great truth ? 
 
 " That is just the reason we love Him, Uncle 
 William, because he is working for us, and we for 
 him. When we open our eyes, and are willing to 
 trust him, then he sends his light to show us the
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 207 
 
 work he has given us to do. O uncle ! is it not a 
 glorious thought that we can be co-workers with him ? 
 that in the great world we may give help to His 
 children, if it be but a cup of cold water to a disci 
 ple ? And don't we wouldn't you love a being 
 who is all light and perfection, even if we cannot see 
 him ? He is the vision of our own souls. The more 
 we love and hope and trust, the higher and purer 
 we shall view God, the nearer we shall be like him." 
 
 She hung her head, abashed, like a startled fawn, 
 and then stole one glance at her uncle's face. He 
 was looking intently at her, half awed by the force 
 and power of her words. They were sitting alone 
 in the room, and the candle had burned to that 
 socket, but through the shimmering moonlight Alice 
 thought she saw a tear on his face. She slipped 
 from his arms, and he released her without a word. 
 He seemed to have lost all thought of her in the 
 greatness of the thought she had left him. 
 
 Oh ! how near to us all lie the gates of the Here 
 after of Light ! Mr. Whiting's soul lay in the dark 
 shadow of unbelief; but the hand of a girl had 
 turned it backward, and given him a glimpse of the 
 inner glory. Alice would have been frightened, 
 had she known the extent of her influence over her 
 uncle. Perhaps she had indeed given a cup of cold 
 water to a thirsty soul. 
 
 Long after Alice lay wrapped in peaceful slumber, 
 Mr. Whiting paced to and fro in the desolate sitting-
 
 08 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 room. He was studying that great problem of life, 
 which, once solved, gives us the key to a wider and 
 
 a better future. He saw men and the world as a 
 
 f 
 
 shadow, a past dream, and himself standing alone, 
 a soul to be drawn upward into that good which he 
 dimly comprehended as a light streaming down from 
 above; and through all the dream the form of 
 Alice seemed floating upward with beckoning finger, 
 till she was lost in the brightness.
 
 CHAPTER XXm. 
 
 THE NEW ACQUAINTANCE. FRED'S RESOLVE. 
 
 " CAN you fasten my horse anywhere here, boy ? " 
 said a tall, foreign-looking gentleman, as he alighted 
 'at the farm-house steps. 
 
 Sam, lost in amazement at this sudden apparition 
 of gentility, stood silent, with open eyes and mouth, 
 regarding the stranger with curious coolness. 
 
 The gentleman repeated his question. 
 
 " Guess you don't belong round here anywhere, 
 do you ? From New York, mebbe ? " said Sam, 
 answering the question by asking another in true 
 Yankee fashion. 
 
 His listener turned haughtily away, and ascended 
 the steps, while Sam proceeded to tie the horse in 
 the most awkward manner, by putting a rope round 
 his neck, and then fastening it to a post. And just 
 as Lizzie, all smiles and bows, came down to meet 
 her visitor, Sam was dancing round the post, full of 
 mischief and joy at having tied a knot which no 
 mortal but himself could undo. 
 
 Henri Claremont was a gentlemanly looking per 
 son, tall and dark complexioned ; and altogether such 
 a one as would be likely to attract any young girl 
 who loved show and romance and knightly manners. 
 In dress he was faultless ; and his honied speech and
 
 210 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 flattering attentions, it could be plainly seen, 
 given him a large place in Lizzie's favor. His dark 
 hair fell in jetty ringlets around his neck; and a 
 spotless collar, turned over a la Byron, gave him an 
 air of jaunty freedom not at all unbecoming. 
 
 Alice had been at work in her gar-den, and as she 
 came in at the back door caught a glimpse of the 
 visitor. Hastily putting off her gardening gloves, 
 she went into the kitchen. 
 
 " Content, what are you going to have for din 
 ner ? We shall have company." 
 
 Content raised her eyebrows curiously, and said 
 she was going to have hashed meat. 
 
 Alice smiled. " What else have you in the house, 
 'Tenty ? Couldn't you make one of those French 
 puddings we used to have? You have plenty of 
 eggs, haven't you ? " 
 
 "Heaps on 'em." 
 
 Alice threw on her sunbonnet, and, taking the 
 egg-basket from its peg, went out to hunt eggs 
 among the old roads and haymows. The basket 
 hung lightly upon her arm, so lightly that she 
 forgot its presence, and began thinking about past 
 scenes and old friends and happy egg-huntings of 
 long ago. The hot summer sun looked down ou 
 ripening grain and mellow fruit, the air was vocal 
 with the hum of insects ; and Alice's heart warmed 
 with happy feeling like the summer glow of nature. 
 A sense of perfect rest came over her, a feeling
 
 THE NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 of great freedom. She was in the open fields, with 
 only the sky overhead ; there was nothing to bind 
 her. Was she not a child again ? The sweet clover 
 blossoms looked up at her as they did when she 
 wove chaplets of their white and red blooms ; the 
 birds sang the same old tunes. Was she not the 
 same little child who once made the fields her play 
 ground, and the birds and flowers her companions ? 
 So Alice thought, until her brow grew serious as 
 she realized how far she had travelled from the trust 
 ing confidence of childhood. Ah ! the childish 
 brook becomes the deep river of womanhood; the 
 waters which gushed so free then have now learned 
 the rocks and shallows of the life-stream, and their 
 singing is softened into a deep and serious mur 
 mur. 
 
 So Alice thought as she sauntered on through the 
 garden gate. " I am a woman indeed," said she 
 aloud. " I have learned to be prudent, worldly, 
 where once I only loved and confided. And -yet the 
 Word says, ' Except ye become as little children, ye 
 shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.' * : 
 
 She repeated the text over and over again as she 
 passed along, meditating upon its beautiful sim 
 plicity. A voice aroused her. 
 
 " Miss Morton, may I have the pleasure of carry 
 ing your basket ? " 
 
 The basket served as a link between the past and 
 present. Alice recollected herself, and became sud-
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 denly aware that a pair of brown, eyes were looking 
 intently on her face. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Hall," she answered with some 
 embarrassment. " I believe rny thoughts have lite 
 rally run away with me. I came out to hunt eggs, 
 and have thought myself away out here." 
 
 " Yes," said he, taking her basket with a grave 
 look, " I believe I shall have to arrest you for 
 trespassing. Did you know that this is father's 
 meadow ? " 
 
 " No, I did not. You will not enforce the law 
 where there is ignorance of it," said Alice play 
 fully. 
 
 " I am afraid I shall in this case. I want you to 
 walk up to the house with me. Come, will "you 
 not ? " 
 
 "Not to-day, Mr. Hall." 
 
 " But do you know our family think it very 
 strange you come to see us so seldom? Father 
 talks about it nearly every day." 
 
 "It seems, then, that the old adage, 'out of 
 sight out of mind,' does not hold good here. I am 
 glad I have so many good friends." 
 
 " You have a great many, I am sure," said Ed 
 ward, in a tone that made Alice uncomfortable, it 
 was so very significant. 
 
 Edward declared himself perfectly at leisure, and 
 in love with the romantic business of egg-hunting, 
 basket was full to the brim; and they had
 
 TH? NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 213 
 
 almost reached the farm gate, when Edward, turn 
 ing his face towards her, wistfully said, 
 
 " Will you not be kind enough to tell me how 
 you understand the passage you were repeating 
 when I met you 1 " 
 
 Alice remembered blushingly that she had been 
 thinking aloud. She was silent. 
 
 " Forgive me if I ask too much," said Edward. 
 "But I have been much troubled to find a satis 
 factory meaning to that phrase. Is it not our duty 
 to help one another in the pursuit of truth ? " 
 
 " I will not urge my ignorance and your wisdom, 
 Mr. Hall ; but, if my poor opinion can avail you, 
 you shall have it. But, first, you must tell me 
 where you think the kingdom of heaven is ? " 
 
 " I have always considered it the scene of our 
 future life, the presence of God and his angels." 
 
 " Then my explanation will be vain. I do not so 
 consider." 
 
 " Where do you think it is ? " said Edward. 
 
 " Within you. We need not wait for a future 
 world to be in the presence of God. Now this 
 kingdom is promised not to the proud, but to the 
 poor in spirit., The rich, the haughty, must hum 
 ble themselves, must become as a child, before they 
 can enter it. It was that I was thinking of this 
 morning. How hard it is, with our trials, our ex 
 periences, our idols, to keep the heart open and 
 pure, to still be meek and trustful as a child ! "
 
 14 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 "Is it possible to be that?" said Edward, in a 
 low tone. 
 
 " Not without help : but the divine Alchemist 
 can turn even selfishness to the pure gold of virtue ; 
 and the failing props of the world teach us faith and 
 childlike trust in our Father. That is the way I 
 understand it. Doubtless it is a childish way." , 
 
 " The very reason why it should be the best way," 
 said Edward. " Thank you, Miss Morton. You 
 have rendered me no common service. I never 
 seemed to realize it before." 
 
 He declined entering the house, but stood at the 
 gate, watching her, till she was out of sight in the 
 turnings of the path. 
 
 " Truly," said he to himself, " of such is the 
 kingdom of heaven." 
 
 " What a pity," thought Alice, " that such a 
 noble student leaves out of his library the best of all 
 works ! " 
 
 The dinner proved to be all that was expected, 
 with the addition of some fine trout, the product of 
 Fred's morning sport. Mr. Whiting looked serious ; 
 and Fred's brow was ominously overcast at sight of 
 their visitor. He conducted himself, as Lizzie said, 
 with " graceful elegance ; " though Ada and Alice 
 both thought his manners a little affected. Mr. 
 Whiting talked with Lizzie a long time after his de 
 parture. He saw too late his failure in duty, and 
 endeavored to atone for it by grave and earnest
 
 FRED'S RESOLVE. 215 
 
 counsel and fatherly advice. Lizzie listened weari 
 ly, as if she thought it all very dull, and assured 
 her father repeatedly that she cared nothing for Henri 
 Claremont, save as a friend and a fashionable acquaint 
 ance. Still her father left her with a heavy heart. 
 
 And so week after week passed away, and 
 Autumn was drawing near. The fields stood yellow 
 with golden corn, the orchards were dropping with 
 golden fruit. A comfortable home they had, with 
 every immediate necessity ; but those numberless 
 little wants, which only money can supply, were 
 lacking. The fashionable garments were replaced 
 by the plainest home-made goods. Even Mrs. 
 Whiting, seeing how her hi*sband and children ex 
 erted themselves, seemed roused to a feeling of 
 interest, and used her needle to better advantage 
 than in embroidery. But, for all this, the winter 
 was approaching. The family was large, and Alice 
 saw with anxiety that her uncle grew paler, and 
 more thoughtful than ever. 
 
 From time to time she heard from Ellen Lee. 
 Rumor said she was a ie splendid teacher," who was 
 in herself a demonstration of the great law of kind 
 ness, Charles was still in Italy, filling out copies 
 of great pictures for American gentlemen, and en 
 riching his mind by the study of the noblest artists. 
 Every word which Alice dropped concerning his 
 success and genius made Fred sigh, and put him 
 into a profound revery.
 
 216 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 The warm rays of the September sun stole in 
 through the open door, and streamed across the 
 sitting-room. Fred sat and looked dreamily at 
 Alice, as, with the sunshine playing round her 
 fingers, she stitched nimbly away at her work, mov 
 ing her lips at intervals, as if to recall a lost passage 
 or forgotten text. 
 
 " "What are you doing, Cousin Alice ? " 
 
 " Nothing very romantic, Fred. I am mending 
 a stocking." 
 
 " But I should think, when a stocking came to 
 that pass, it was time it was thrown away." 
 
 " Perhaps so, for rich folks like you," said Alice, 
 with a curious smile ; " but we must either patch 
 them or take the other alternative." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " Wearing them with holes in them." 
 
 Fred drummed his foot on the floor, and said 
 nothing, though Alice felt sure a storm of feeling 
 would succeed the calm. It came at last. 
 
 " It's a shame, Alice, a downright shame, for 
 people to be so fettered by poverty. Just the lack of 
 a few dollars, that we would have thrown away a year 
 ago. There is no chance for either of us ever doing 
 any thing or being anybody. I say there's no com 
 fort in such a life." And Fred got up and walked 
 with rapid strides around the room. 
 
 " No comfort, perhaps, but much healthful dis 
 cipline."
 
 FRED'S RESOLVE. 217 
 
 " But who wants to be disciplining for ever. It 
 may benefit you, but it don't me one bit." 
 
 " You do not know yourself, Cousin Fred. "You 
 are not the same being now that you were one year 
 ago." 
 
 " That's a fact. I am minus money, prospects, 
 friends, and every thing else." 
 
 Alice said nothing, preferring to let this morbid 
 feeling expend itself. He stopped in his walk, and 
 came and looked over her shoulder. A German 
 grammar lay open upon her lap. 
 
 " Pray, are you studying and sewing at the same 
 time ? I do not believe there ever was such perse- 
 verence." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Do you forget Charlotte Bronte, learn 
 ing her German with her grammar elevated above 
 the kneading-trough ? " 
 
 Fred shut his lips tightly, determining for once 
 to control himself. Finally he drew an ottoman to 
 Alice's side, and looked up gravely into her face- 
 " Do not think I have not seen your anxiety and 
 father's embarrassment, they have sunk deep into 
 my heart ; and now I think for me to stay here 
 longer would be almost a crime. I am going away, 
 Alice. Judge Hall has offered to place me in a law- 
 office in New York. So I shall give up my hopes 
 of college, and study hard for excellence. Edward 
 strongly urged this course ; and the judge said 
 the best college was the world, and the highest 
 10
 
 218 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 diploma a noble countenance, written by God's owu 
 hand in lines of truth and honor." 
 
 Fred's face shone with the old generous light. 
 No one would have called him moody or passive 
 then. Alice looked thoughtful ; and, when she an 
 swered, she spoke indirectly, 
 
 ' ' Fred, you are richer than you ever were before. 
 You are willing to go into life, and take honor and 
 integrity for your companions. Thank God, my 
 dear cousin, that your loss has proved gain ; and 
 that it came before flattery had enervated you, or con 
 ceit wholly robbed you of manly truth and honor."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FASHIONABLE EDUCATION. 
 
 AND so Fred went to the law-office, and Alice en 
 tered the seminary at the beginning of the next 
 quarter. She might have missed the society of her 
 sprightly cousin, had not new duties occupied every 
 thought, and new faces awakened her interest. The 
 young children at the seminary learned to love her, 
 as indeed did all who came within her influence. 
 But, most of all, the childish confidence of Nina 
 Hall endeared her to the heart of her young teacher. 
 She was Nina's oracle, every thing she said or did 
 was perfect in Nina's eyes ; and she would sit for 
 hours gazing upon Alice's face, with a mingled look 
 of love and reverence, watching her as she told the 
 children of nature or of God. 
 
 Not unfrequently Nina would come to school 
 with her hands filled with autumn flowers, some 
 times her own .gift, and sometimes from " Brother 
 Edwaid." And not seldom did Edward manage 
 to stray out of his way, though these strayings 
 always brought him to the seminary gate at the close 
 of the session. 
 
 "We have not mentioned Ada since the failure. It 
 is because her heart and mind have been so steadily 
 improving. She needed no attention. Ada's mind
 
 220 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 always followed the leadings of the strongest influ 
 ence around it. Once she had yielded to Lizzie's 
 flattery and folly; now Alice had regained her 
 power over her, and almost moulded her anew. It 
 is a misfortune of such minds that they are so im 
 pressible. They are like the water, which is mobile 
 and limpid of itself, but which will take the form of 
 any vessel which contains it. Happy was it for Ada 
 that a good and pure life was being worked out 
 before her, that she might shape her conduct after 
 its excellent virtues. Lizzie looked on scornfully 
 when Ada listened to Alice's f ' preaching," as she 
 called it. Ah! there was no danger of Lizzie. 
 Her education had been too complete to allow of 
 change. 
 
 October began to drop its golden leaves upon the 
 brown earth, and the nuts had opened in the forests. 
 The farm-house doors no longer stood open all day 
 long, but only unclosed to admit the warm afternoon 
 sunshine. On one of these warm afternoons, the 
 gentleman with the foreign air descended the farm 
 house steps, and sought his horse, which as usual 
 Sam had tied in a double-and-twisted Yankdfc knot. 
 Just as Sam dodged a blow from the heavy riding- 
 whip, a paper fluttered down, and fell at the horse's 
 feet. 
 
 " "What are you stooping there for, you rascal ? " 
 " I jest wanted to see if that hoss's hoofs wan't 
 gettin' rusty ! "
 
 FASHIONABLE EDUCATION. 
 
 The paper was safe in Sam's pocket. Half an 
 hour had not elapsed ere Sam saw the stranger com 
 ing rapidly down the road. 
 
 " Here, you little rascal ! " said he, vaulting off 
 his horse. " Have you seen any thing of a piece 
 of white paper ? " 
 
 Sam gave ^spring, and alighted astride the farm 
 fence, and eyed the stranger very coolly. " Why,, 
 have you lost one ? " 
 
 " I don't choose to converse with menials," he 
 replied, with dignity. ff Answer me, yes or no." 
 
 "Well," said Sam, " mebbe yes, and'mebbe no. 
 Seenls to me I did see suthin' like a scrap o' paper. 
 'Twan't very white, though." 
 
 " Where is it ? give it to me," said the other 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I don't know. Didn't say's I did, did I ? " 
 
 Sam suddenly turned a somersault, and landed in 
 
 a ball on the grass, out of reach of the stranger's 
 
 whip. Henri Claremont turned his horse angrily, 
 
 but soon returned again, urged by some mysterious 
 
 "" impulse. 
 
 " Here, you boy," said he. " If you don't tell 
 me where that paper is, I'll have you cut up by 
 inches, and skinned alive." 
 
 Coming close up to the fence, though still cau 
 tiously avoiding the whip, Sam said, in a low, confi 
 dential tone, " Supposin* now, stranger, you was a 
 gentleman, and I was another, and you should give
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 me that gold ring on your finger, and I should give 
 you that paper, only supposing would ye do 
 it?" 
 
 At first the stranger only seemed beside himself 
 with indignation at the fellow's impudence. But 
 his desire for the paper overcame every thing else ; 
 and he promised the ring, which Saan, with true 
 Yankee spirit, demanded and received first. He 
 then searched in his long trousers' pocket, and drew 
 up a piece of soiled and crumpled paper, which he 
 put into the stranger's hand. 
 
 " This isn't the one I want. The one I want has 
 writing on it." 
 
 " Guess I haven't seen that one. I happened to 
 see this stickin' up in the grass, and thought mebbe 
 it might be yourn." And Sam, with the ring on 
 his finger, and the real paper safe in his pocket, dis 
 appeared in the shrubbery at the back of the house, 
 leaving his angry and discomfited friend to digest 
 his rage as best he might. 
 
 About a week after the above occurrence, as Alice 
 returned through the twilight of the now chilly even 
 ing, she encountered Sam, who seemed desirous of 
 speaking to her. She spoke kindly to him, and Sam 
 answered respectfully that he had " suthin' to give 
 her," and, bringing up the stranger's paper, put it 
 into her hand. 
 
 " Yo\i see, Miss Alice," said he, using the re 
 spectful language common to him when speaking to
 
 FASHIONABLE EDUCATION. 
 
 her, ' ' I've had this scrap o' paper more'n a week. 
 I picked it up in the grass as I was ontying the 
 stranger's horse. He was awfully consarned about 
 it ; and I haint had no luck since I took it. The 
 grindstone broke down ; and I fell off the horse and 
 like to break my neck ; and it's taken the butter 
 more'n twice as long to come 'n it ever did afore. So 
 I'm jest goin' to give it to you. 1 couldn't make out 
 a word of it. Mebbe you'd tell me ? " he added, his 
 curiosity once more getting the better of his awe of 
 Alice. 
 
 Alice took the paper and unfolded it. It was 
 dirty and greasy, having been so long in Sam's 
 pocket, in company with knives, top-cords, ginger 
 bread, and the like. It was a letter written in a 
 fine French hand, and commenced abruptly without 
 any address. Before Alice had read far, she became 
 aware that the contents of that paper ought not to 
 be seen by her eye ; but statements of such startling 
 nature were set forth there, that she read on over two 
 pages of note-paper, and finally read the name 
 signed to it, without fairly comprehending where 
 she was, what she was doing, or what the paper 
 really contained. She read it a second time, and 
 then her mind took in all the force and power of the 
 writer's words. It purported to come from the wife 
 of Eugene Lovering, and was filled with the com 
 plaints of a despairing and much- wronged woman. 
 It accused him of neglect, of failure to meet
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 promises, and finally charged him with changing 
 his name to Henri Claremont, and stated that rumor 
 coupled his name with a beautiful Miss Whiting. 
 There were vague hints also of a forgery and pur 
 suit, and an earnest prayer that he would escape 
 before it was too late. The name signed was 
 simply " Evelina." 
 
 The blush of shame and indignation rose to 
 Alice's cheeks. Totally unconscious of all save the 
 astounding revelations of this letter, Alice walked 
 into the house and up to her room. There, as usual 
 with her, she fell into a fit of profound musing. She 
 thought over every thing connected with Henri 
 Claremont's acqiiaintance in the family. Could it 
 be possible that they had allowed such a viper to 
 creep among them, and perhaps to poison the mind 
 of Lizzie with falsehood and flattery? He who 
 could be so dead to truth and honor in one case 
 could be in another. Alice knew Lizzie to be a ro 
 mantic girl, whose mind rested on no firm founda 
 tion of principle ; but she knew that her pride would 
 scorn one like Henri Claremont. Nor was she mis 
 taken, Yet Lizzie's lack of prudence would have 
 prevented her seeing him in his true colors. She 
 had never questioned the motives or pretensions of 
 others. She gave admiration and respect to a glit 
 tering outside, and a ready ear to her own praise. 
 Hence Alice feared. She knew Lizzie's haughty 
 temper, and that she would never ask or listen to
 
 FASHIONABLE EDUCATION. 
 
 advice from others. She thought of her cousin in 
 the presence of one without honor or integrity, and 
 shuddered. As little as Alice knew of romance or 
 day-dreaming, she could readily see how easily one 
 of Lizzie's unstable mind might be allured like a 
 child by an empty promise or a goodly seeming. 
 But here was this note ! She had no right to keep 
 it in her possession, and yet to whom could she give 
 it ? Fred was away ; her aunt's nerves rendered 
 her unfit for any emergency ; and Ada was ineffi 
 cient as a child. No ! She felt that she must go to 
 her uncle. As Lizzie's father, it was most proper 
 he should look after the interests of his child. 
 
 Mr. Whiting sat in the twilight of the old kitchen 
 mending a rake. As Alice came in with her usual 
 quiet, he raised his head with a smile, and asked 
 her some questions about her school. He had 
 finished getting in his harvest that day, and dis 
 missed his hired man ; and now he was feeling a 
 little discouraged about the future. Alice thought 
 to herself that it was a poor time to trouble him with 
 unpleasant intelligence. She arose and procured a 
 light, and then going to her uncle's side said, " Uncle 
 William, you are not feeling very well, are you ? " 
 
 " Not so well as I ought, with so many good com 
 forters around me. But, Alice, you look pale. I 
 shall forbid your teaching altogether." 
 
 " It isn't the labor that makes me pale, uncle, but 
 only a little sad thought. I have learned some un-
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 pleasant facts to-day, which I meant to make known 
 to you. I did not think to see you so sad and 
 weary. Shall I tell you now, or wait till to 
 morrow ? " 
 
 Mr. Whiting looked alarmed, and begged her to 
 tell him immediately. And Alice, who saw that he 
 would be tormenting himself with vague fears, if 
 she delayed, put the note into his hand, with the 
 story of its discovery. 
 
 There is no point on which a man is more deli 
 cately sensitive than that of family honor. Poverty, 
 loss of friends, even death itself, can be better borne 
 than disgrace. Mr. Whiting had supposed that the 
 opinion of the world was nothing to him, that in 
 him the fires of ambition were gone out. He was 
 mistaken. The fires of pride had indeed been 
 dashed out by the cold water of misfortune, but be 
 neath they still smouldered ; and in that hour the 
 thought of what the world would say was strong 
 within him. That his spotless name should be 
 spoken abroad in the same breath with the name of 
 a forger ! That his daughter should be thought 
 of at the same time with one so utterly worthless ! 
 That he should have harbored beneath his roof a 
 felon ! It was too much ! Forgive him, if, as he 
 walked nervously to and fro, some bitter words 
 crossed his lips ! Forgive him, ye fashionable 
 mothers and exquisite daughters, if in that moment 
 he hurled terrible denunciations at your pet theories
 
 FASHIONABLE EDUCATION. 
 
 of education, and spoke some bitter truths of his 
 daughter's folly and imprudence ! It was natural. 
 
 Alice raised her head. She could not bear to see 
 him so. She arose and laid her hand on his arm, 
 " Uncle William, Lizzie was more sinned against 
 than sinning." 
 
 "True, too true, alas!" he said. "I have 
 sinned against her cruelly. It is not her fault. It 
 is mine." 
 
 Alice was silent. 
 
 " O Alice ! " he faltered, " how nearly I had been 
 the ruin of my child ! " 
 
 Still Alice said nothing. The sight of her uncle's 
 deep humiliation weighed upon her. The tears 
 rushed to her eyes, and she pressed his hand in 
 sympathy. Looking up, he saw her weeping. 
 
 " O Alice ! " he faltered, "little Alice, if all the 
 world were like you, we should have no need of 
 guardian angels. Had it not been for my foolish 
 weakness, my daughters might have been like you. 
 But God is just. ' He that soweth the wind must 
 reap the whirlwind.' I am punished. His judg 
 ments have fallen upon me very bitterly." 
 
 " God is merciful," whispered Alice. 
 
 " Yes, merciful ! " repeated Mr. Whiting. " My 
 pride is broken like a reed, that I might acknow 
 ledge his hand. Perhaps some day I may say, 
 ' Our Father,' as I did at my mother's knee." 
 
 The light burned dimly. The dark walls of the
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 old kitchen threw shadows into the room, which 
 fell like a mantle over the bowed man. It was a 
 strange unfolding of human life for one so young as 
 Alice. 
 
 " May the Lord bless you, my dear uncle, and 
 forgive us all our heart-wanderings ! " and Alice 
 was gone, leaving him alone with the night and his 
 accusing thoughts. 
 
 Not with anger, but mth a sad tenderness, did 
 Mr. Whiting talk to his eldest daughter the next 
 day. He pictured to her the evil of allowing every 
 one indiscriminatingly to her acquaintance, who 
 came with no stronger recommendation than a 
 foreign style and fine coat. He talked lovingly and 
 earnestly to her ; and the proud girl was softened, 
 and some natural tears gave proof that the springs 
 of right feeling were not entirely dried up. There 
 are some minds which never apprehend danger till 
 they are on the very verge of the precipice, some 
 who literally "take no thought of the morrow." 
 Such was Lizzie Whiting. Her father realized that 
 one so excitable, so thoughtless, needed all the 
 checks of principle, and reflected sadly that the firm 
 self-control and high culture which a true education 
 would have given her had been thrown away by 
 four years at a fashionable boarding-school. 
 
 The next week's papers from New York brought 
 news that Eugene Lovering, alias Henri Claremont, 
 had been arrested for forgery, and sentenced to the
 
 FASHIONABLE EDUCATION. 229 
 
 State Prison for a long term of years. Lizzie 
 shuddered as she read it. 
 
 tf There is no safety for any one," said Ada. 
 
 "Yes," said Alice, "there is safety in a pure 
 heart. A pure heart is a thermometer, and falls at 
 every breath of evil. He who possesses this safe 
 guard is rich, though he had nothing else." 
 
 Lizzie almost forgot herself. She was about to 
 say, " O Alice ! show me how to find this safe 
 guard." But she checked herself. The good im 
 pulse was only the choked spring bubbling up 
 amid the rubbish of a false life.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 FOOD FOB THOUGHT. 
 
 JUDGE HALL doated on his son, that was plain ; 
 and no one blamed him for it. But " every heart 
 knoweth its own bitterness ; " and Judge Hall found 
 his in his son's skepticism. It was a barrier in the 
 path his father had longed to see him tread. It pre 
 vented his usefulness ; it darkened his life. Ed 
 ward believed in God, and loved nature as God's 
 work; but of living faith he knew nothing. His 
 religion was scientific, built of philosophic theo 
 ries and logical deductions, which his reason ap 
 proved. And yet, beneath all, this high soul longed 
 after truth, as the hart panteth for the water-brooks, 
 and loathed the husks it fed on. But the stern 
 pride of the man was there. He would not believe 
 until reason and judgment approved ; and so he 
 crushed back the glowing aspirations of youth as a 
 weakness. But there come times to all such souls, 
 when they feel how poor a teacher is intellect alone. 
 They realize that their fine words and lofty dream- 
 ings are more truly lived out every day by some 
 lowly follower of Christ. They Teel that they are 
 like the fig-tree which Bore only leaves. 
 
 Such a monitor was Alice Morton to Edward 
 Hall. Circumstances had thrown them together
 
 FOOD FOR THOUGHT. 
 
 much ; and every conversation but revealed more 
 fully her calm faith, her Christian principle. In 
 vain Edward reasoned with himself, that she be 
 lieved blindly ; that she had never studied philoso 
 phy to any depth. The fact still remained, that she 
 lived a truer life, did more good, and was hap 
 pier. 
 
 It was a dull day, the first of December. Sam 
 had brought Alice in the chaise to give her custo 
 mary lesson to Nina, a task which was a delight 
 to her, for the child really had genius, and entered 
 into the very soul of music. As Nina ran out of 
 the room at the close of the hour allotted, Edward 
 begged to be favored with some music. Alice's 
 hands trembled some as she ran them over the keys. 
 She had much rather have been excused ; but she 
 would not deny so simple a wish. She sang some 
 pretty Scotch ballads, and some of Moore's charm 
 ing songs. When about to rise, Edward said, 
 ( ' Pray, Miss Morton, favor me with one hymn, 
 that beautiful one, ' Jesus, lover of my soul.' " 
 
 For years that hymn had not passed Alice's lips. 
 It was her mother's favorite. She touched the keys 
 with unsteady fingers, and her voice trembled with 
 suppressed feeling, almost melted to tears. The 
 memory of that sweet voice, which once sang it in 
 her childish ears, was all Alice thought of; and she 
 threw into it a depth of pathos and tenderness born 
 of real feeling. As she sang the last beautiful
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 verse, her voice almost failed her ; but she choked 
 back her tears, though her voice spoke them in the 
 strain, 
 
 " Other refuge have I none, 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on Thee : 
 Leave, oh ! leave me not alone, 
 
 Still support and comfort me. 
 All my hope on Thee is stayed ; 
 
 All my help from Thee I bring. 
 Cover my defenceless head 
 
 With the shadow of Thy wing." 
 
 Alice rose, and would have passed from the room ; 
 but Edward sprang eagerly forward. " Stay, Miss 
 Morton, will you not let me thank you ? will you 
 not let me ask you one question ? " 
 
 Alice sat down on the music-stool. 
 
 " Forgive me, Miss Morton ; but I am going to 
 ask you a question, which perhaps you will think 
 a strange one. There is a man," began Edward, 
 " who has lived all his life in the midst of plenty 
 and prosperity. He worships the beautiful, and 
 loves the good, wherever he finds it. God gave 
 him talents, and he might use them if he would. 
 To him as to all the world comes the command, 
 * Arise, and work ! ' But he sits idle. He feels 
 that if he works it is vanity, if he is idle it is vani 
 ty ; that either way the labor of man profiteth no 
 thing. He believes in goodness, and would like to 
 raise his fellow-men ; but he sees no hope. The
 
 FOOD FOR THOUGHT. 33 
 
 millennium to him is a beautiful dream, and man's 
 regeneration a sublime idea, but impossible to be 
 realized. What would you think of such a one, 
 Miss Morton ? " 
 
 Alice gazed full into his face, it was very 
 earnest. Could it be possible he spoke of himself? 
 
 "I should think," replied she, "that his mind 
 was -morbid; and, before he could help his fellows, 
 he must recover his own health." 
 
 " I am the man," replied Edward, blushing. " I 
 would give worlds, Miss Morton, for the faith your 
 hymn expressed. You felt it ; so did I. But my 
 reason said, ' It is only an emotion, it cannot be 
 trusted.' What is it that gives you this trust ? " 
 
 " It is a knowledge of my own weakness. We 
 are offered this refuge in the love of God, upon 
 whom should we lean, if not on Infinity ? " 
 
 "But, Miss Morton, you take this for granted. 
 Intellect takes nothing for granted." 
 
 " We cannot find both question and answer en 
 tirely in ourselves," replied Alice. " We must have 
 a starting-point." 
 
 "But why this necessity? I want to see the 
 reason of faith." 
 
 Alice smiled. " ' Except ye become,' have you 
 forgotten that passage. When you were a child, 
 Mr. Hall, and learned the alphabet, did you think 
 of asking why the first letter was * A ' ? I should 
 as soon think of asking that question as asking if
 
 234 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 we could be sure of the love of God. It is the 
 centre of the soul itself. It must be so." 
 
 Edward was silent, the words had struck home. 
 She was not skilled in the philosophies of the 
 schools ; but she had the living fire of truth in her 
 words. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Morton. You must think I 
 am a strange person. But I want to hear with the 
 simplicity of a child. No sacrifice of pride would 
 be too great if I could win truth." 
 
 Once more Alice smiled. " You mistake yourself, 
 Mr. Hall. Your very renunciation of pride is a 
 worse pride. You come to the door of heaven, and 
 knock, and think yourself worthy of an answer be 
 cause you have made so great a sacrifice of intel 
 lectual pride. You think it a great sacrifice for the 
 man to become a child." 
 
 Edward had never thought of it before ; but it 
 was true, his conscience told him so. 
 
 " After all," said Alice, lt we must come down to 
 first principles. Our beginning and our ending is 
 mystery, the world is vanity. Our only refuge is 
 faith in God. The fraction of human knowledge, 
 reduced to its lowest terms, resolves itself at last 
 into a cypher. Without God, we are but a handful 
 of dust. With faith in him, that dust becomes like 
 the ashes of the phoenix, from which " life and im 
 mortality shall be brought to light." 
 
 Edward gazed upon her in awe, nearly in rever-
 
 FOOD FOR THOUGHT. 235 
 
 ence. She had risen from the seat, and now stood 
 with glowing cheeks, and an eye kindled by thought. 
 It was a burst of natural eloquence. He said 
 nothing, and Alice sunk upon the music-stool with 
 painful embarrassment at having spoken so earnestly. 
 
 At last he said, (t But, Miss Morton, what shall we 
 believe ? Transcendentalism is too dreamy. The 
 dogmas of the church are too narrow. What shall 
 we believe ? " 
 
 She rose up once more, and stepped somewhat 
 forward. " Love truth, and seek it, but not in the 
 creeds of the world. ]\%ich study is a weariness of 
 the flesh. Let us hear the conclusion of the whole 
 matter, ' Fear God and keep his commandments ; 
 for this is the whole duty of man.' ' 
 
 And, when Edward looked up, she was gone. 
 But not soon died her words from his mind. They 
 were food for thought for many days.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 .TWO CHRISTMAS SCENES. 
 
 " ONE year ago ! " Many things may happen in 
 a year. The hopes of thousands may have been 
 wrecked, and the light that shone for them may now 
 be streaming on the upturned faces of others. Ah ! 
 there are few hearts which do not recall " one year 
 ago " with some secret pangs ! Some for whom its 
 circle began or ended witk a grave ! Some who 
 watch the old year out with shivering sadness, be 
 cause the warm fires of love have died out on their 
 own hearthstones ! And there are some who re 
 joice, because they have " fought a good fight, and 
 travelled a sabbath day's journey nearer the celestial 
 city." 
 
 " I am dead to the world/' said Mr. Whiting on 
 this Christmas Eve. 
 
 Do you remember Mr. Whiting's last Christmas 
 Eve ? Perhaps you can recall, as I do, the dreary 
 drawing-room, the dying fire, the lonely man, and 
 the sweet monitor half woman, half child who 
 stood .there with a lesson for him, which he began to 
 learn from that time. But that was one year ago. 
 Mr. Whiting's name is now no longer known on 
 'Change. The spacious halls have narrowed to the 
 cozy rooms of the old-fashioned farm-house.
 
 TWO CHRISTMAS SCENES. 837 
 
 " "We are very comfortable "here, are we not, dear 
 uncle ? " said Alice, as they sat in front of the blaz 
 ing wood fire. Her uncle assented with a gratified 
 look. It reminded him of the family gatherings of 
 his boyhood. The little sitting-room really shone. 
 The bright blaze of the fire lit up the crimson car 
 pet, and played in fantastic lights and shadows on 
 the wall, and upon the happy faces of those as 
 sembled there. 
 
 " How pleasant it is ! " said Ada. " Don't you 
 think so, mother ? " Mrs. Whiting sat apart in an 
 easy-chair, and now raised her head languidly. 
 
 " Yes, dear," she answered, " for those who have 
 known nothing better. Lizzie, do you remember 
 Mrs. Hammersford's ball, last Christmas Eve ? " 
 
 " Ah ! never mind balls now, mother," said Fred, 
 who had returned for the holidays. " We've got 
 something better. Come, father, mother, Lizzie, 
 Ada, look here ! " and Fred threw open the door of 
 the little library, from whence a stream of golden 
 light fell merrily. There, blazing and flashing, 
 stood a Christmas Tree. Fred and Alice and the 
 girls looked roguish enough at the surprise they 
 had caused the others. Fred would have Sam and 
 Content called in. They came shyly from the 
 kitchen, Sam gazing with admiring wonder. Few 
 and simple were the gifts ; but we love each other 
 not so much for what is given as for the kindness 
 of heart which prompts the offering. There was a
 
 38 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 
 
 nice pair of slippers for Mr. Whiting, wrought by 
 Lizzie's willing fingers ; a handsome dress from Fred 
 for his mother ; a case of sketching pencils for Ada. 
 'Tenty was made extatic by the gift of another ban 
 danna, gayer than the first ; and Sam was completely 
 overwhelmed by receiving for a gift what he had 
 long coveted, but never dreamed of possessing, a 
 pair of patent-leather shoes, to replace a pair of old 
 clogs he had lost in the brook only a week before. 
 And was there nothing for Fred and Alice ? Come 
 and look over Alice's shoulder, and we shall see. 
 She is standing at the bookcase, trying to see through 
 her tears a beautiful bound edition of the German 
 Poets. Fred laughs, and shakes his head at her ex 
 pressions of gratitude, and assures her that this gift 
 is nothing compared with the hair watch-guard he 
 holds in his hand. " I shall always prize it, Alice, 
 as a memento of the three dear sisters I love." 
 
 Joyous was that Christmas Eve. Hearts grew 
 warm with happy feeling, which had long been 
 frozen in the icy chains of fashion. Some few 
 glimpses of household love had cheered them. Mr. 
 Whiting felt that hfire, at least, he could rest ; and 
 slowly the day-star was rising, in whose holy beams 
 was the promise of " Peace." Only Mrs. Whiting 
 remained as ever, restless, nervous, complaining. 
 All round the walls, bright holly-berries and ever 
 greens had been hung. The brown nuts that the 
 forest trees had given them were displayed for win-
 
 TWO CHRISTMAS SCENES. 239 
 
 ter cheer ; and sober russets and golden pippins 
 looked out temptingly from their beds of snowy 
 corn. 
 
 "I am going to tell the name of your future 
 spouse, Alice," said Fred, as he threw over her head 
 a long apple-paring. 
 
 " A perfect * E, J I declare," said Ada, as it curled 
 up on the floor. 
 
 " Well, now for the last initial," laughed Fred. 
 " I declare," said he, as it came down, " its an ( H.' " 
 " It looks' more like an <N,' I am sure," said the 
 blushing Alice. 
 
 " No : it's a bona fide ' H,' " persisted her cousin. 
 " It couldn't have been better, could it, Liz ? " added 
 he provokingly. 
 
 The soft rays of the study lamp fell across the 
 library floor, and the judge sat among his law- 
 papers, with dreamy eyes looking into the future, 
 and back upon the past. Music and festivity had 
 been there ; for it was Christmas Eve. But now the 
 dancing footsteps were hushed ; the great clock in 
 the hall pointed prayerfully to the hour of twelve, 
 and the silver chimes rang out, as of old they did 
 when the angels sang, " Glory to God in the highest ; 
 on earth peace, good-will towards men." 
 
 It was midnight, the magic hour when, as old 
 legends say, spirits walk the familiar places of the 
 earth once more. And truly, as the light streamed 
 over the gray hairs of that good old man, one might
 
 240 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 almost think a rewarding angel had circled his brow 
 with its promised crown. It is a mistake to say that 
 spirits walk the earth no more. They will walk 
 with us, hand in hand, if our touch is pure and 
 holy. They will sup with us and sojourn with us, 
 if faith and' love are in our hearts and homes. 
 They come to us now pure as when they came to 
 Eden, trailing their white robes over the brown 
 earth ; and where they stopped to comfort the earth 
 worm, or make a stained soul white again, we say 
 the place is holy, and take off our shoes, and listen 
 reverently, as if a voice should say, " Peace and 
 good neighborhood." 
 
 A dark figure glided in with noiseless footfall, and 
 stood by the old man's chair. 
 
 The old man smiles in his revery. He is think 
 ing, perhaps, of the many hearts he has made glad 
 in the past year ; and how the poor widow blessed 
 him when he sent her food and fuel for a Christ 
 mas gift. But now his face darkens, his brow is 
 troubled, and a tender sadness takes the place of the 
 glad light in his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, my son ! my son ! " said the trembling lips. 
 
 The dark figure raised its head suddenly, and the 
 judge started as if he heard a sigh. 
 
 " One thing have I desired of Thee above all 
 others," said the judge prayerfully, " that my son 
 might come home to Thee and to me." 
 
 " Father, he has ! " and, turning, the judge saw
 
 TWO CHRISTMAS SCENES. 
 
 his son standing with folded arms and compressed 
 lips before him. 
 
 " It is Edward ! it is my son ! " said the judge, 
 as he stretched out his arms ; but Edward stood 
 motionless. 
 
 " Father, I have sinned, and am not worthy of a 
 blessing." 
 
 It is not for curious eyes to look upon the prodi 
 gal when he comes back to the arms of love. A 
 calm joy, like the soft blessing of evening after a 
 day of weary toil, settled around them. The strug 
 gle and the anxiety were over, and now they might 
 rest in each other's love ; while all around them 
 flowed the golden band of that infinite love whose 
 circle is Faith, and whose signet is Peace. 
 
 " The waves of life had no balm for me," said 
 Edward, " till an angel went down before, and 
 troubled the waters. Then I stepped in, and was 
 healed." 
 
 " It is enough," said the judge. " My son is not 
 an alien from the faith of his fathers." 
 
 11
 
 CHAPTER XXVH. 
 
 THE MAGIC H A K P. 
 
 " I TOLD you a story once, Miss Morton. Will 
 you let me tell you another one "i " asked Edward, 
 as he drew his chair nearer hers. 
 
 Alice assented. She knew, that, when he told a 
 story, it was worth listening to. Edward paused a 
 moment, as if in thought, and then spoke as fol 
 lows : " A young soul wandered out of the gate of 
 Paradise. It hung its harp upon the willows that 
 grow by the bank of the celestial river ; for the good 
 Father said, ' Go work in my vineyard, and I will 
 give thee a new harp, even the heart of man, 
 that thou mayest attune it unto the melodies of 
 love.' And so the white soul came into the world 
 as a human child, with a divine gift. The angels of 
 Truth and Peace were its elder sisters, and sang its 
 first cradle-songs. Its face was not fair, as you 
 would imagine the face of such a good spirit, but 
 was dark, and some would say, at first sight, un 
 lovely. But, as she journeyed on, she played upon 
 the magic harp ; and its tones were so sweet, that 
 those who heard them said, * An angel is passing,' 
 and forgot her face in the softness of hei song. By- 
 and-by, the path became rugged and hard to tread. 
 Then her feet began to falter, and her heart to grow
 
 THE MAGIC HARP. 243 
 
 somewhat heavy ; but, when every thing else had 
 failed, this harp became all to her, and drew such 
 sweet music from even the trial and trouble, that 
 every one stood still to listen ; and as they listened 
 their souls melted in them with longing after a life 
 so true and beautiful as the song portrayed. For 
 you remember the good Father had said she should 
 attune the heart into the melodies of love. 
 
 " It came to pass, as she sojourned in a beautiful 
 valley, that she met a brother soul, whose faith was 
 destroyed by clouds of unbelief, who had wasted 
 has life, and had forgotten his God. The soul of 
 the good monitor was stirred with pity. She 
 touched her lyre, and the air rang out with a sym 
 phony so holy, so heavenly, that it seemed as if one 
 might feel the very love of God of which she sang. 
 And the young doubter, looking upward, saw light, 
 and believed. He went his way ; but he could not 
 forget the harp nor the maiden. He longed to hear 
 the song once more, and gather faith from the lips 
 of his monitor. Do you see the moral of my tale ? " 
 
 Alice blushed painfully. The point of the story 
 had been too plain ; but she said nothing. 
 
 " This harp," continued Edward, " was the 
 maiden's heart. Its silver strings were love, faith, 
 patience, hope, meekness, and gentleness. Those 
 around her always heard some harmony breathing 
 through her lips. And I have heard it said that 
 whoever should join hands with her for the life-
 
 244 
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 journey would hear those sweet voices ever singing, 
 and inherit the blessing she will receive when she 
 goes back to her Father. Look up, Alice, and tell 
 me if I may hope for this guidance." 
 
 Alice's eyes were full of tears as she put her hand 
 in Edward's.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A JOYFUL REVELATION. 
 
 THE fading sunset of a soft June day was wrap 
 ping hill and valley in glory as Ellen Lee once 
 more came back to her old home. She put her 
 head out of the old stage window to note each 
 familiar thing, the spire of the seminary, glistening 
 in the distance ; the slope of the green hill ; and the 
 farm boys going home, or finishing their labor, with 
 merry tune and whistle. 
 
 It was Ellen Lee ; but how changed ! The 
 traces of deep sorrow were upon her face ; her brow 
 was paler than ever ; and the soft bands of hair were 
 parted smoothly on her forehead, instead of flying 
 in truant ringlets as they did once. A suit of neat 
 black had taken the place of the coarse homemade 
 garments in which we last saw her. But the stage 
 rolled on to the farm door, and brought Ellen to her 
 old home and to a warm welcome. Alice and Ada 
 embraced her with gladness ; and Lizzie seemed 
 interested in the young stranger, whose deep mourn 
 ing dress seemed to call for sympathy and plead for 
 kindness. 
 
 " She has a sweet face, has she not ? " said Mr. 
 Whiting ; and his wife* could not but assent. 
 
 " Charles and I are orphans, dear Alice," she
 
 246 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 said, as they sat at the pleasant west window that 
 night. " They are both gone home, mother, and 
 grandfather too. Sometimes I wish I were. But 
 I must stay while He gives me work to do. Alice, 
 if it had not been for you, I should have been a 
 misanthrope." 
 
 " No, dear Ellen, you would not : there is too 
 much good in you. You were only a little tired 
 and unhappy then. Now it is better, and you have 
 many friends." 
 
 " I have lost my best ones, Alice ! Henceforth I 
 have marked out my life. I will be a true worker 
 in my Lord's vineyard. I will be like a tree, which 
 brings forth its fruit in due season. All the good 
 that I can yield shall be given up, lest at any time 
 the Lord of the vineyard should say, ' Lo ! these 
 many years do I come seeking fruit, and finding 
 none. Cut it down.' " 
 
 " But what shall you do, Ellen ? " 
 
 "Do you remember, Alice, a conversation we 
 once had upon duty? I then felt that my talent for 
 composition should be encouraged, and longed to 
 write rather than teach. That longing has never 
 left me. Now the way is open for the fulfilment of 
 my hopes. I am going to Italy. Brother Charles 
 has sent for his lonely sister to come and live with 
 him at Florence. So I shall go in the fall." 
 
 " I am glad," said Alice, pressing her hand. " I 
 knew the future had some good in store for you.
 
 A JOYFUL REVELATION. 
 
 The last shall be first, and the first last," said she, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 Ellen drew her chair nearer her friend. " Can you 
 bear some startling news, Alice ? I did not come 
 here merely for pleasure, but to perform an import 
 ant mission. Do not fear, Alice : it is joyful news, 
 but so strange and so happy, I am afraid you will 
 not bear it well. Are you quite strong, and ready 
 to hear it ? " she continued, looking earnestly into 
 her face. 
 
 Alice never allowed emotion or surprise to rob her 
 of her presence of mind. She sat still, trying to 
 think what 'this sudden good news could be. She 
 could think of nothing but Fred. Had he done 
 something noble, and so brought credit upon them 
 all ? Or perhaps his industry and genius had been 
 rewarded, and some hopeful future opened before 
 him. As these simple and pleasing hopes ap 
 pealed to her mind, she turned a brightening face 
 towards Ellen, and gave her full assurance that she 
 was fully able to listen to all she might relate. 
 Little did she dream how much fortitude and 
 strength it would require to hear it. 
 
 " It is a long story, dear Alice," began Ellen ; 
 " and you must not interrupt me. You know, Alice, 
 my brother has been situated at Florence for two 
 years. He has a studio there ; and his business 
 brings him in contact with many travellers who visit 
 the studios for pleasure, or to gratify their love of
 
 248 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 the beautiful in art. These visitors come in and go 
 out as they like ; while Charles continues his work, 
 sometimes not noticing a single face that passes 
 through his rooms. One day, as he was at work 
 copying a picture of Guido, he observed a tall, dark- 
 looking gentleman taking a survey of the rooms, 
 and looking at the pictures with an indifferent eye. 
 Charles had finished not long before a portrait from 
 memory of his sister and her friend Alice. This 
 picture hung in an obscure corner ; for you know 
 Charles has queer notions, and he had taken a fancy 
 that this picture was too sacred for common eyes." 
 
 Ellen glanced at Alice. She was looking at her 
 intently, a look half of doubt, half of wonder 
 ment ; but Ellen saw that as yet she had no suspi 
 cion of the truth. 
 
 " The dark gentleman sauntered towards this 
 corner, and carelessly turned the picture to the light. 
 Charles says the portrait was called very good. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Gushing had seen it, and offered him a 
 large sum for it ; but he would not part with it. 
 Your arm, dear Alice, was around my waist. 
 Your lips were half parted, as if in girlish talk, and 
 your eyes looked out from the canvas as they do on 
 all your friends, with a tender light that seems to 
 have something of sadness in it." 
 
 Alice moved impatiently. " Your story is too 
 romantic, Ellen, and you natter a little too much." 
 
 " You were not to interrupt me, you know," said
 
 A JOYFUL REVELATION. 249 
 
 Ellen. " Besides, Alice, I never can help being 
 a little poetical. It is a failing of mine. Charles 
 had taken great pains with my portrait. A wreath 
 of blue violets was twined in my hair, which fell in 
 long ringlets ; and one hand held up a white apron 
 half filled with wild flowers. Altogether it was 
 called a very pretty picture, though most persons 
 supposed it a fancy sketch. As I have said, the 
 stranger turned the picture to the light. For one 
 moment he seemed spell-bound, bewildered. He 
 pressed his hand to his forehead, and gazed long and 
 earnestly at the picture ; while his cheeks and lips 
 became of an ashy paleness, which even the dark skin 
 could not conceal. "With rapid strides he came to 
 Charles's side ; and, while my brother sat with idle 
 pencil, and in mute surprise, he gasped out, ' Mr. 
 Lee, for the love of Heaven, tell me where you got 
 that picture ! ' 
 
 " ' It is my sister Ellen and a friend of her's,' " 
 said he. ' It is not intended for the public eye. I 
 painted it myself from memory.' 
 
 " The stranger's face betokened great agitation, 
 and he trembled visibly. * What is the name of 
 the friend ? ' was the next question, asked eagerly, 
 and yet with a seeming dread of the answer. 
 
 " ' Alice Morton, sir,' said Charles, much wonder 
 ing who the curious person could be. 
 
 " ' It is ! it is ! Can it be the child of my Mary, 
 my own little Alice ? but no, that were too great 
 11*
 
 250 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 mercy,' he muttered in broken syllables, as he sank 
 into a chair." 
 
 Ellen stopped in her story ; for Alice had risen 
 from her seat in eager expectancy, every feature 
 alive with feeling, her lips colorless, while her 
 hands clutched the table nervously to keep from 
 falling. 
 
 " Sit down, Alice," said Ellen, leading her forci 
 bly to a seat. " This is too much for you. I might 
 have known it. Why did I not wait till to-morrow ? 
 You are faint." 
 
 " No, no ! " said Alice. " I am better I 
 never faint. It is only a little weakness. But, 
 Ellen, you are not trifling with me ? You would 
 not tell me all this for mere amusement. But it 
 cannot be true. It is not ! is it ? " 
 
 " It is all true," said Ellen. "But, my dear 
 friend, 1 cannot go on till I see you better. Would 
 it not be well to finish to-morrow ? You will be 
 stronger then." 
 
 " No, no ! I must hear now. I will," said 
 Alice eagerly. " Who was he ? " 
 
 " At the gentleman's wish," continued Ellen, 
 " my brother gave him your age and home, your 
 character and past history. Alice, you must have 
 guessed the truth. It was your father. He seemed 
 bowed, to the earth when Charles told him of your 
 trials, your poverty. He seemed to, be a man who 
 had exhausted life, who had been disappointed.
 
 A JOYFUL REVELATION. 251 
 
 But he will find a lost treasure ; and you, Alice, will 
 have a father." 
 
 " O my God ! " said Alice, " is this you tell 
 me true ? Where has he been all these long years ? 
 Oh ! why, why was my mother left to die without 
 the knowledge that he, her best-beloved, was yet 
 alive? "Why was .1 left to the crushing thought 
 that I was an orphan and unloved ? Oh ! my 
 father ! my bitter childhood might have been spared 
 me if I had been taken into your .loving arms. I 
 have seen so much of life and the heart, Ellen, I 
 can never be the confiding child I should have been 
 had he been here to protect me." 
 
 Once Alice had stood with words of counsel and 
 courage for Ellen. Now their places were reversed. 
 Sympathy beamed from every feature of Ellen's 
 face ; her arm stole softly around her friend's waist ; 
 and the tears, which now would have their way, 
 were kissed off by loving lips. " Remember, Alice, 
 that we are made perfect through suffering. Heaven 
 grant that your trials are ended, and that the future 
 may be a constant peace, a heart-rest. You have 
 been a loving and earnest worker. I know that now 
 you will have your reward. Your father has been 
 for seven years in India. My brother informs me in 
 his letter that he is reputed wealthy. I cannot tell 
 you as your father would, so I will give you the 
 packet he has forwarded."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 
 
 A HOPE FOB THE FUTURE. 
 
 ALICE hardly knew how she reached her chamber. 
 Her uncle's family had long since retired ; but Alice 
 had not thought of any thing save the packet in her 
 hand, and the mysterious unfolding of human life 
 and deep feeling she knew it must contain. There 
 are times when some great sorrow or sudden joy so 
 fills the depths of the soul, that its troubled waters 
 must find vent in tears. Alice wept ; and it was 
 what she had long needed. Then, throwing herself 
 upon her knees, she implored strength of that 
 Father -whose aid is ever present, to bear whatsoever 
 might be in store for her, either of joy or sorrow. 
 
 A long curl of dark hair dropped from the packet, 
 and wound about her fingers. It was her own. 
 She remembered the very day her father had cut it 
 from her head, when she sat upon his knee and lis 
 tened in childish -wonderment, while he told her he 
 must go away a great many miles, and be absent 
 a great many years. How true that prophecy had 
 been ! A picture of her mother was also there. 
 She dropped a few tears over the beloved face, and 
 then turned eagerly to read the closely written pages 
 before her :
 
 A HOPE FOR THE FUTURE. 253 
 
 MY OWN DEAR AND NEVER-FORGOTTEN ALICE, How 
 
 my heart yearns towards you, as the only tope I now have in 
 life ! My own little Alice, can I believe that your eyes will 
 see these lines ; that your lips will once more speak that blessed 
 word, " Father " ? I have thought you dead, my child. I have 
 mourned for you as one who was, and is not. Do not blame 
 me, Alice, for neglect or forgetfulness. You will not, when 
 I tell you how sad my life has been, how many bitter days 
 and nights I have passed in weariness. Be like your mother, 
 ever gentle, ever forgiving. 
 
 As briefly as possible I will tell you my story. 
 
 You were quite a child, Alice, when I left home. For two 
 years I was gladdened with letters from friends in the East. 
 My health was good, and my success as great as could be ex 
 pected. Probably you know, my child, that I went to the mines. 
 How often have I regretted it since ! The severe labor and 
 hard fare of a miner's life wore upon me at last. I was cheered 
 by no kind sympathy from home. Fortune seemed to frown on 
 every undertaking. My mournful fancy pictured my wife and 
 child dying of want, or dependants on the rude charities of the 
 world. Do you wonder, Alice, that fatigue and a twofold des 
 pair made me sick at last ? For months I lay in a low fever, 
 unsettled in mind and feeble in body, with no care save the 
 rough though kindly nursing of the poor miners. The truest 
 humanity is oftenest found among the uncultivated poor. I 
 learned that then. Heaven be merciful to them, as they were 
 to me ! 
 
 No one thought that I could survive, indeed, it was re 
 ported that I was dead. But, by little and little, my strength 
 returned. I went back to life, bearing it but for one purpose, 
 to work for my family, or to hear some tidings of them. 
 
 Then came the crushing report that my wife and child were 
 dead. 
 
 Frantic with the fear of losing every thing worth living for, 
 I sent letter after letter to the East ; but days, weeks, months 
 passed, and still no tidings. What became of those letters, I
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 never knew. I do not think they ever reached their destination. 
 Probably they were opened for the money they contained ; for 
 I denied myself every thing, almost starved myself, to send 
 each time some scanty pittance to those who, if yet living, I 
 would have died to save from one thought of privation. Reck 
 less of every thing in my despair, I would have returned and 
 sought for you myself, and learn certainly if the terrible rumor 
 were indeed truth ; but one day, as I was going to the city post- 
 office, I did so now daily, having abandoned my mining labors, 
 I met a friend from Connecticut, a native of our own dear 
 town. My heart leaped up with a sudden bound, and the ques 
 tion I most wished to ask, yet the answer to which I dreaded, 
 trembled on my tongue. The man started as if he had seen a 
 vision. " Your friends all think you dead," said he. " We 
 heard you had died of a fever." lie told me that he had been 
 removed from Connecticut some time, that my wife and child 
 were dead for a certainty ; and he gave me the full particulars 
 of my poor Mary's last sickness. With regard to you, he was 
 not able to say when, where, or how you had died ; but he said 
 he had received the information on good authority, and I be 
 lieved him. 1 now no longer wondered that I received no let 
 ters from family or friends. They believed me dead. From 
 that day life was a blank to me. I no longer cared what became 
 of me. I could not go back to look at the graves of my wife 
 and child. What had I to do in a country that held only graves 
 for me ? I shipped on board a merchantman for India. After 
 wards, I learned that the person who informed me of your 
 death had been killed by the Indians in a skirmish. So you see 
 how all hope of your hearing of me was cut oft'; for I took no 
 pains to correct the impression of my death, preferring, since I 
 had died to happiness, to die to the world also. I courted 
 death in a thousand forms. I climbed to the highest mast in a 
 fierce siorm, when the hearts of the stout sailors shrunk from 
 the duty. I saw the young and happy swept from me like 
 summer dew-drops; but death passed me, as he always does 
 the worn-out, waiting soul. Fortune turned her wheel favor-
 
 A HOPE FOR THE FUTURE. 255 
 
 ingly, now that I cared not for her favors. Wealth flowed in 
 upon me ; but I sat a dark, weary man, whose only peace was 
 in spending his abundance in charity. I made the poor my 
 family, told no one of my past history ; and many wondered at 
 the strange man, who seemed to carry a secret with him which 
 the world could never know. 
 
 But sorrow and trouble and years began to tell their tales. 
 My hair began to be sprinkled with gray. Though still a young 
 man, my residence at the south had robbed me of my fresh 
 vigor. I resolved to make a long tour of Europe ; and then, if 
 Heaven willed it, I would make a pilgrimage to my loved ones' 
 graves, and die. It was while at Florence that I saw your por 
 trait. It was the speaking picture of your mother in her girl 
 hood, only a little sadder, a little more tenderly thoughtful. 
 O Alice ! I might have prevented those shades on your face. 
 Heaven forgive me ! 
 
 And now, Alice, tenderly lov-d, will you not come to me, 
 and let me love you, and repay you for all your past years of 
 weariness and toil ? God bless your uncle for his kind care of 
 you ! But oh, my child ! have not the longing arms, the tender 
 love, of a parent some claim upon your sympathy, even though 
 they once let you slip from their embrace? I would come to 
 you, but my health has never been good since my India life ; 
 and the excitement of this discovery has so wrought upon me, 
 that my physicians utterly forbid my making the attempt. So 
 will you not come to me for a season, and we will all return 
 together ? I have made friends of Mr. Gushing and his lady, 
 and am now staying with them. Their arms are also open to 
 receive you. Thank God that I have found a daughter, and 
 that I have found one so true, so Christian-like, as your friends 
 here report ! Your friend, Ellen Lee, her brother informs me, 
 will reach here in the fall. I wish you to join her party. May 
 God keep you in safety.! Hope beckons us in the future, and 
 Faith points us to rest at last. 
 
 Your loving father, 
 
 EDWARD MORTON.
 
 256 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 There were other letters, explanatory and busi 
 ness. Mr. Morton had placed abundant funds at 
 her disposal, and appointed for her a business agent 
 in New York. Alice thought little of these. She 
 only knew that a change so happy had come upon 
 her, that so blessed a protection was offered her, that 
 she seemed in a dream. And then a feeling of 
 peace came over her, of devout thankfulness ; and 
 she folded her hands together, and bowed her head, 
 as if a voice had said, " Let us pray."
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 THEY had all followed her down the garden walk, 
 Nina and Freddy and Edward ; and the judge stood 
 holding back the gate for her to pass out. 
 
 "I suppose," said he, with the old twinkle in his 
 eye, " that now our Miss Alice has grown so rich a 
 lady, she will forget her humble friends, or put us 
 down in the list of her poor relations." 
 
 Little Freddy clung to the skirt of her dress, and 
 looked up wistfully into her face, as if he half com 
 prehended he was going to part from a friend ; while 
 Nina seized her hand impulsively, and said, " What, 
 Miss Alice grow proud ! I don't believe she could ; 
 do you, Edward ? " 
 
 The emphatic " No " which answered this seemed 
 to satisfy all parties that it was simply impossible 
 for Alice to be other than her own sweet self, money 
 or no money : only the judge shook his head, and 
 said something about its being unlawful to trust the 
 evidence of a partial or interested person. 
 
 " How is your uncle, Alice ? " said the judge. 
 " Does he like the idea of parting with his pro 
 tege ? " 
 
 " He is well," replied Alice ; " but he says he 
 should like to keep me a little longer."
 
 258 THE SHKAVtS OF LOVE. 
 
 " So we all should, indeed," was the reply. " I 
 hardly know what Nina will do without her * good 
 model,' as she calls you. Ah! my dear girl," he 
 added in a changed voice, " you are richer in the 
 love of those innocent hearts you have been guiding, 
 than you will ever be in worldly goods. If I were 
 going across the sea, I should be sure to take pas 
 sage with you ; for the Father's eye will surely guard 
 well that dear one for whom, so many pure prayers 
 rise daily." 
 
 Alice turned away to hide her emotion, and brush 
 away a few tears ; she could not think of her ap 
 proaching separation from her pupils without a 
 pang. Then, grasping the judge's hand, she said, 
 " Wherever I go, my dear friend, I shall never 
 forget your kindness ; I shall never forget the sym 
 pathy which has always cheered me, the ready help 
 in trouble, and the warm welcome I always met in 
 this house." 
 
 She passed out into the road. 
 
 " You shall always have that here," said the 
 judge. 
 
 Little Freddy wondered what made papa's eyes 
 look so bright. The truth was, Judge Hall's tender 
 heart brought a shining mist into his eyes. 
 
 He turned away and strode up the avenue, pooh- 
 ing and pshawing all the way ; but still the bright 
 mist gathered in his eyes, and some of it even rolled 
 down his cheeks in the form of a few tears.
 
 FAREWELL. 59 
 
 " I did not know how much I loved that girl," 
 said he to himself, as he shut the door of his library, 
 and began talking to himself about the folly of an 
 old man like him being so tender-hearted. 
 
 It was strange how Alice, had placed herself in 
 the centre of almost every heart. Even the judge 
 had felt her influence. 
 
 11 I never believed so completely in the power of 
 personal influence," said Edward, as they walked 
 down the old road, " as I do now. My dear 
 Alice, you make me ashamed of myself. When 
 I look at the amount of good you have done, 
 with your few advantages, I feel how I have wasted 
 my life. I have you to thank for that happier phi 
 losophy which first taught me that only in constant 
 labor for others can we find our own true happiness. 
 Now I know that only he fulfils life's mission who 
 makes his power the means of good to humanity." 
 
 " You did not always think so," said Alice. 
 
 " No," said Edward. " I was content to be idle, 
 because I had no faith. And, I blush to say it ! I 
 had a little pride too. The mass of the people 
 seemed so low, so uncultivated, that it seemed use 
 less to try to help them up, a thankless task not 
 worth one's trouble. Now I see how neither the 
 day nor the hour bringeth forth the perfect good, 
 but much work and much patient waiting. I 
 am willing to work because it is duty, leaving 
 the issue to the great Former of destiny. It is
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 your influence and example that has wrought this, 
 Alice." 
 
 " No, not wholly, if at all, Edward. Your own 
 heart would not let you rest. You were unsatisfied 
 with yourself. One so . noble, so generous, as you 
 are, could not long have remained an idler in the 
 great work-field our Father has given us. If I have 
 helped you any, I am only too happy. I will not 
 say I had no influence, for we should be just to our 
 selves. "We all have an influence. He who in ex 
 cess of false humility denies it wrongs himself, in 
 that he does himself injustice, and his Maker, in that 
 he denies He has given him a soul and a heart." 
 
 Edward looked at her in admiration. " How 
 much wisdom there is in a good heart ! " said he. 
 " What all my study could not teach me, your pure 
 instincts revealed to you. I am glad on one ac 
 count that you will leave me for a time, Alice." 
 
 She looked up inquiringly. 
 
 (f Yes," he said, " I am going to try to make my 
 self worthy of you. Henceforth it shall never be 
 said of me, ' This man put his hand to the plough, 
 and looked back.' Into the world, into the thickest 
 of her hurry, her folly, her sinfulness, I will go, 
 with the sword of justice and the olive of peace. 
 What influence I have shall be exerted. I will 
 plead the cause of the poor and the oppressed. I 
 will break the power of the wicked and the proud. 
 I will open the prison doors for those who are
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 wrongfully bound. Farewell, Alice ! May the Lord 
 keep you in safety ! Pray for me, that I fail not, 
 that I no longer waste my manhood for that which 
 profiteth nothing." 
 
 He was gone ; and Alice sat down on the wide 
 doorstep at the old kitchen door, and wept freely. 
 The stars were coming out in the sky, when she en 
 tered the house. She was going away, to be absent 
 many months, and every familiar object seemed dear 
 to her. She stood quite still in the doorway, watch 
 ing Content, as she went on with, her work. Then, 
 advancing to the table, she said, " Do you remember, 
 Content, that this is my last night at home ? " 
 
 " 'Member it, Miss Alice ? 'Pears like dis chile 
 berry sorry all day ! There'll be jis nuffin 't all left 
 when you've gone ; " and Content put on such a 
 dolorous expression, and mopped up her sable face 
 so vigorously with her apron, that Alice laughed in 
 spite of herself. She had been making a prodigious 
 noise among the kettles, to cover her emotions ; but 
 now she laid down her dishcloth, and, sinking on 
 the bench, sobbed outright. Alice soothed and 
 comiorted her ; reminded her of the good Friend 
 who is always at hand and present with us ; en 
 couraged her so simply and lovingly, that the good 
 creature stopped her tears, and looked up into Alice's 
 face, as if expecting to see some heavenly grace and 
 beauty there, instead of the girlish though, grave 
 and tender features of her young teacher.
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 " May de good Lord bress ye, honey ! I'se one 
 ting I prays for, and dat is, dat they'll let us both 
 in at de same door of de kingdom. 'Pears like I 
 must have ye there." 
 
 The tears were not yet dry upon Alice's face 
 when she joined the family. They were all there, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Whiting, Fred and the girls. 
 
 Alice would take her departure early in the morn 
 ing to join her friends some miles beyond, and this 
 evening was sacred to love's farewell. The judge's 
 family, with their ever-refined delicacy, had taken 
 their leave of her, that they might not break the 
 home-circle, which they knew held Alice as one of 
 its most strong and cherished links. 
 
 There were loving tones and looks and words 
 for the departing one ; they rejoiced in her good 
 fortune ; they regretted their own loss ; and they 
 proved their affection so effectually, that Alice 
 hardly knew whether she was more pleased or 
 sorry that she was going into the arms of a long-lost 
 parent. 
 
 But this was only natural. The present is warm, 
 sunny, heart-endeared ; the past, and even the hope 
 ful future, are as a tale that is told, a dream to be 
 realized. No wonder Alice lingered long, when 
 she knew tried hearts held her so lovingly ! 
 
 Is there not a reward in a good life ? Hear what 
 Ellen Lee said, as they left their old home and 
 former friends : " Alice, your influence has leavened
 
 FAREWELL. 263 
 
 my whole life. All that I am I owe to you. I 
 would rather have your genius than any other, 
 the genius for making every one happy around you. 
 It is the true genius, Alice, the poetry of a true 
 life, set to music." 
 
 We must leave them awhile floating out upon the 
 sea towards sunny Italy. As they watched the edge 
 of the horizon fade into the sky, Ellen gave a last 
 farewell to her native home in these lines : 
 
 " Oh ebbing tide, bear on 
 Over, the mystic sea ! 
 The last dim speck of that land is gone 
 Which held but graves for me. 
 
 Here on the solemn main, 
 
 Between the future and past, 
 My soul may gather her strength again^ 
 
 And stand in her might at last. 
 
 Oh ebbing tide, bear on ! 
 
 Across our souls the waves 
 Are ebbing away from the sin they have borne : 
 
 They leave it a land of graves, 
 
 Graves where we buried the past, 
 
 Along with the folly it bore ; 
 And, listening softly, heard at last 
 
 The mandate, ' Sin no more.' 
 
 Oh, sailor at the helm, 
 
 Look out o'er the mystic sea ! 
 For our vessel's port is that distant realm 
 
 Which lies in eternity,
 
 264 THE SHEAVES OF JOVE. 
 
 And say what watch are we in, 
 
 How does the good ship steer : 
 The land-breeze blows from the coasts of sin, 
 
 And the rapids of death are near. 
 
 Oh ebbing tide, bear on 
 
 Over Life's ocean deep ! 
 For our vessel is stout and our hearts are strong, 
 
 And we've put our fears to sleep. 
 
 Over the mystic sea, 
 
 Beyond the graves of sin, 
 The gates of heaven shall open to me, 
 
 And God shall welcome me in. 
 
 Bear on, oh ebbing sea ! 
 
 Our sails to the winds are given ; 
 God is our Captain and Guide, and he 
 
 Will pilot us all to heaven.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 THE soft June sunlight fell as merrily, and the 
 birds sang their matin hymns as sweetly, in the little 
 village of Elmwood, as if five long years had not 
 elapsed since we saw it last. Ah, reader ! are you 
 looking for the old Lee Farm ? and do you expect to 
 see our friends, the Whitings, still there ? The Lee 
 farmhouse still nestles amid its elms and maples ; 
 but Mr. "Whiting has gone back to New York, and 
 you must seek him in the same marble-fronted palace 
 he occupied when our story opened. 
 
 But I have another scene for your eyes to-day. 
 Look where the church-spire flashes in the morning 
 rays. The dew is yet upon the grass, and the early 
 freshness of the dawn lingers with the breath of 
 flowers in every road and by-path. Still the vil 
 lagers are astir. Groups of merry, laughing child 
 ren might be seen almost running in the direction 
 of the church. Knots of gay maidens and young 
 men are scattered here and there, all in their holi 
 day dress ; for two of their most loved companions 
 and long absent too are to be married to-day. 
 It was the marriage of Alice which the villagers 
 flocked to witness. One called to mind how good 
 Miss Alice had been when her dear boy was sick ; 
 12
 
 266 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 and another, how beautifully she talked to her when 
 she lay ill of a fever. And many blessed the noble 
 Edward, who had stood, not with words only, but 
 with hands full of comforts for his dear brothers in 
 poverty. 
 
 A bridal procession swept down the aisle, and 
 paused before the altar. The bride looked little dif 
 ferent from our Alice of old, only the promise of 
 her girlhood has been realized in the tall, noble- 
 looking woman ; and her face, though still plain in 
 repose, is marked with such a high expression, and 
 speaks so much of soul, that the beholder, at first 
 sight, would call her really beautiful. Such a charm, 
 as of innocence and peace, seemed to float around 
 her, that the villagers declared ever after that she 
 was more of an angel than had stood at that altar 
 for many a long year. 
 
 There is no nobler sight on all God's earth than a 
 young, hopeful heart giving itself and its affections 
 for life to another. Mr. and Mrs. Whiting both 
 wept as Alice's clear responses rang out over the 
 crowded house ; and her father sobbed like a child 
 during the whole service. The good old pastor, who 
 had fed the Lord's lambs in that place for nearly half 
 a century, placed his trembling hands on their heads 
 as they knelt before him, and said, " May our Father 
 love you and bless you, and give you the ' peace 
 that passeth all understanding,' and keep you in his 
 keeping ! "
 
 CONCLUSION. 267 
 
 The judge had forgotten none of his old-fashioned 
 hospitality. The doors of the " great house," as the 
 villagers called it, were thrown open for a festival. 
 Long tables were set on the green lawn, and music 
 and dancing made the blood leap with quicker 
 bounds through every vein. Amidst it all, a family 
 group sat in the library, and talked lovingly of the 
 past and hopefully of the future. Alice's father had 
 been received among them long ago, and now wel 
 comed his son-in-law with even more than paternal 
 fervor. " Remember, my children," he said, " that 
 you are all I have ; and try to love me a little. I 
 am sad and grave, I know ; but the shadow of a 
 great sorrow is on my heart. Alice is a good girl, 
 r-just like her dead mother. May she prove the 
 blessing to you that she was to me ! " 
 
 " She has proved a blessing to all of us, and to all 
 who ever knew her," said the judge, kissing her 
 cheek. " It is all I wished to see, the two I loved 
 best united ; " and the judge rubbed his hands with 
 intense satisfaction. 
 
 " Who would have thought," said Fred, " when 
 Alice came to our house a poor orphan, that she 
 would one day return to us more than we ever have 
 given her, both in a moral and pecuniary sense ? 
 She formed my character. All that I am, or ever 
 shall be, I owe to her." 
 
 " She saved me from the quicksands of folly and 
 vanity," said Ada.
 
 268 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 "And held up the glass to me," said Lizzie, " so 
 that I sa\v my own deformity. I felt bitter towards 
 her once ; now I repent, and wish her every happi 
 ness." 
 
 " My children," said Mr. Whiting, with moisten 
 ing eyes, " God bless you all, and God bless the 
 self-sacrificing girl who has made us all so happy ! 
 Heaven, in its wisdom, has seen fit to punish our 
 pride, and exalt her humility. Never forget, my 
 children, the true riches. We were never so poor, 
 as amidst our so-called wealth." 
 
 Mrs. Whiting, now that she had become sur 
 rounded with her former atmosphere of wealth, had 
 regained all her fashionable pride. She murmured 
 as much as ever, though her heart seemed to have 
 warmed somewhat towards her niece and children, 
 when she saw their noble bearing in poverty. But 
 she never ceased to regret that her daughters had 
 acquired such vulgar tastes, and lost their relish for 
 fashion and dress. " Alice was a very pretty bride," 
 she said, " and her husband is one to be proud 
 of; but I shall never forgive her for not being 
 married in New York, and having a wedding- 
 party." 
 
 Reader, if you will search among the many beauti 
 ful mansions which dot the banks of the Hudson, 
 you will somewhere find the peaceful home of 
 Edward Hall and his noble wife. Not in the rapid
 
 CONCLUSION. 269 
 
 whirl of fashion is their pathway laid. When they 
 married they entered into a solemn covenant to help 
 one another in faith, in love, and in duty. Hand 
 in hand they are passing along a sunny road, bright 
 ened by a love which is centred and bounded by 
 the divine love ; and the angels of Peace and 
 Charity come and go over their threshold, and make 
 them blessed. The harp, whose pure tones first 
 taught Edward the melodies of truth, plays for him 
 always ; for Alice's heart is all his own, and his 
 monitor still walks by his side with the words he 
 loves to hear. 
 
 The judge's house in Elm wood is shut up, for he 
 could not live apart from his son ; and his arm-chair 
 stands opposite the one where Alice's father sits. 
 Only once a year they all go the " old place," and 
 live over a past which had mingled with it much of 
 pleasure as well as painful experience. Nina is now 
 grown to be a tall young lady, and entertains her 
 father's friends with dignified politeness ; but after 
 all I suspect she is something of a romp, for the 
 broken limb of a cherry-tree in the orchard still 
 testifies to the sad effect of her last feat at climbing. 
 Little Freddy takes private lessons of Alice ( for 
 she has never quite outgrown the teacher), and 
 shows his father long " sums," neatly copied on his 
 slate. And the judge will look first at the slate, 
 then at the rosy face of the boy, and back to the 
 slate again ; and finally, taking off his spectacles, 
 12*
 
 270 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 he wipes them carefully with his silk handkerchief. 
 What do you suppose it is for ? 
 
 We must not forget our old friend Sam. He is 
 no longer farm-boy ; but his ready wit and shrewd 
 ness has advanced him to the post of chief overseer 
 on the estates of our friends at Elmwood. He has 
 never outgrown his talent for telling white lies, and 
 makes as queer speeches as ever. But, to this day, 
 the chief object of his veneration is Miss Alice. 
 
 Poor old Content has long since entered the king 
 dom which it was her chief delight to anticipate in 
 life. Alice shed as many tears over her old friend 
 as if she had been heiress of untold wealth, and 
 firmly believes that she shall see her in heaven, 
 and hold her. 
 
 Of Mr. Whiting's family much might be said ; 
 and yet a little will sum up all. Fred has received 
 a splendid education, and plead his first cause. It 
 was a brilliant triumph, and placed him at once in 
 the full blaze of the public eye. Edward Hall 
 watches over him, anxious lest the too great flat 
 teries of his admirers should lead him astray from 
 that centre of duty which alone should be the princi 
 ple of a true and noble life. Everywhere Edward 
 Hall's name is spoken with respect. First and 
 foremost in the cause of the weak, earnest and 
 truthful though the world should frown, there are 
 many honest tongues ready to praise him, and many 
 hearts which remember him in their prayers. He
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 is rich, and does not need to labor; but he seeks out 
 the poor and oppressed, and rights them by the 
 thunder of his eloquence, or the still voice of his all- 
 subduing humanity. 
 
 Lizzie and Ada still remain at home ; proving by 
 quiet ministrations how much they are changed from 
 the selfish, vain girls we once knew them. They 
 make their father's life truly a blessed one. The 
 heavy curtains no longer shut out the sunlight from 
 the rooms ; but every thing bright and beautiful 
 finds a home there. And every Christmas Eve a 
 family party gathers there ; and old-fashioned sim 
 plicity makes their hearts young and fresh as a May 
 morning. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gushing resides on the banks of 
 the Hudson, not far from Alice's home. They have 
 at last adopted her into their love ; and Alice calls 
 Mrs. Gushing " mother," as she promised she would 
 perhaps do some day. Happy Alice, to be so loved 
 by many hearts ! 
 
 Charles and Ellen Lee have been at home a 
 month. Charles is now a painter of some celebrity ; 
 but perhaps no picture which he ever executed has 
 brought him so many blessings as the portraits of 
 Ellen and Alice. When Alice was married, he 
 made her a present of it, and it now hangs in the 
 library ; and Mr. Morton never passes it without a 
 sad look and tearful eyes. Ellen has indeed made 
 her genius the means of good to others. Many good
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 and valuable books testify to the labor of her pen ; 
 and many foreign friends will long remember the 
 young American poetess. And there is a rumor 
 that Fred admires and loves the reflection of his 
 dear Alice as he sees it in Ellen, and that she will 
 soon be Mrs. Frederick "Whiting. As for Charles, 
 he is wedded to his art. 
 
 There is one more of whom I fain would speak. 
 Ellen Lee is a large-hearted, benevolent woman, and 
 often pursues her missions of charity through the 
 crowded lanes of New York. One day a note was 
 brought her from a dying woman, praying her 
 assistance. She went immediately. Judge of her 
 surprise to find, in the emaciated and friendless being 
 before her, her once cruel enemy, Evelina Cobb- 
 Tenderly she nursed and soothed her. The poor 
 woman was nervous, and told Ellen, with tears and 
 protestations of grief, how much she repented of her 
 former wickedness. " I believe," she said, " that 
 God has sent these sorrows upon me for my youth 
 ful sins. I am dying ; so I may ask you to forgive 
 me." Ellen wept and prayed over her, and listened 
 in sad pity, while she told her that her husband's 
 name was Eugene Lovering, and that he was in the 
 State Prison, sentenced for many years. Her only 
 child had died from want of proper food and care. 
 It truly seemed like a judgment. The noble woman 
 she had so wronged stood before her like an angel 
 of mercy, nursed her, comforted her, prayed for
 
 CONCLUSION. 273 
 
 her, and at last brought her back to life, and found 
 her a home and friends. " The last shall be first, 
 and the first last." 
 
 Lizzie especially interested herself for her. The 
 great lesson of her life had been taught her by the 
 man who was the cause of all this misery. But 
 Evelina never was aware that Lizzie Whiting had 
 known her degraded husband. Eugene Lovering, 
 she said, had beguiled her by flattering words and 
 great promises ; and she, having no basis of princi 
 ple, left her father's house, and they cast her off for 
 ever. She had been married in a Roman Catholic 
 Chapel. 
 
 It was strange that it had not occurred to Alice 
 before that the writer of that note might be Eve 
 lina Cobb. 
 
 (< There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath no 
 thing." The love of money and the foolish vani 
 ties of the world had proved Mr. "Whiting's ruin. 
 Then he shut his soul up to the pleadings of con 
 science, till a voice which he had learned to love 
 stole in soft accents to his ear ; till the hand of a 
 child had led him into the low valleys of Peace ; 
 and the example of a daily life, whose very atmos 
 phere was goodness, taught him wisdom, and made 
 him a better man. Through the aid of Alice's 
 father, he regained his former wealth ; but in the 
 large library you will find one improvement. This 
 is a marble tablet, on which is inscribed, in letters
 
 274 
 
 THE SHEAVES OF LOVE. 
 
 of gold, this scripture text : " Let not the rich 
 man glory in his riches ; but let him that glorieth 
 glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth 
 me ; that I am the Lord, which exercise loving kind 
 ness, judgment, and righteousness in the earth." 
 
 To Alice the promise is fulfilled at last. She 
 went forth a noble and earnest laborer. She sowed 
 in tears ; now she reaps in joy. Her whole life is 
 like a harvest-day, bright with sunny gleamings, 
 filled with song and gladness. Yes, from the field 
 of labor she returned homeward with singing and 
 thanksgiving, bearing her precious " Sheaves " with 
 her. 
 
 THE END.
 
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