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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12998-0.txt b/12998-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d7531f --- /dev/null +++ b/12998-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3579 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12998 *** + +THANKFUL REST. + +A Tale. + +By ANNIE S. SWAN. + +Author of "Aldersyde," "Carlowrie" "Shadowed" &c. &c. + + + + There is no road, though rough and steep, + Without an end at last, + And every rock upon the way + By patience can be passed. + + There are few human hearts too hard + For gentleness to win; + Somewhere a hidden chink appears + Where love may enter in. + + + +1889 + + + +CONTENTS + +I. UNWELCOME NEWS. +II. THE PARSONAGE. +III. THE ARRIVAL. +IV. THE NEW HOME. +V. SUNDAY. +VI. LOSING HOLD OF THE BRIDLE. +VII. THE RED HOUSE. +VIII. UP THE PEAK. +IX. A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED. +X. ON THE LAKE. +XI. HOPES FULFILLED. +XII. WEARY DAYS. +XIII. LUCY FINDS THE KEY. +XIV. A GREAT CHANGE. +XV. THE WEDDING. +XVI. FIVE YEARS AFTER. + + + +THANKFUL REST. + + + +I. + +UNWELCOME NEWS. + +It was the prettiest homestead in all the township, everybody said, +and it had the prettiest name. It stood a mile or so beyond +Pendlepoint on the farther side of the river, from which it was +separated by a broad meadow, where in the summer time the sleek kine +stood udder-deep in cowslips and clover. + +It was a long, low, comfortable-looking house, hidden by lovely +creeping plants, and sheltered at the back by the old elm trees in +the paddock, and at the front by the apple trees in the orchard. +Perhaps it was because it had such a snug, cosy, restful look about +it that it had been queerly christened Thankful Rest. The land +adjoining the homestead was rich and fertile, and brought in every +year a crop worth a goodly competence to its possessors. The family +at Thankful Rest consisted of two people--Joshua Strong and his +sister Hepzibah. You are to make their acquaintance immediately, but +a remark made once by old Reuben Waters, their next neighbour, may +perhaps give you an idea of their characters better than any long +description of mine:---- + +"For crankiness and nearness, and unneighbourly sourness, give me +Josh Strong and his sister Hepsy. They can't be equalled, I bet, in +all Connecticut." + +You will be able to judge by-and-by of the correctness of Reuben's +estimate. On a lovely August afternoon Miss Hepzibah Strong was +ironing in the kitchen at Thankful Rest. I wish you could have seen +that kitchen; your eyes would have ached with its painful +cleanliness. The stone flags were as cool and clean as water and +hands could make them; the stove shone like burnished silver; the +dresser and the table, at which Miss Hepzibah was at work, were white +as snow; and the array of tins on the wall was perfectly dazzling +with brightness. The wide diamond-paned casement stood open to admit +what little air happened to be abroad that sultry afternoon. How +pleasant it was, to be sure, to look out upon the flower-laden +garden; upon the sunny orchard, rich and golden with its precious +harvest; upon the silver thread of the river winding through the +green meadow beyond; and to see and feel all the loveliness with +which God had clothed the world. But Miss Hepzibah had no eyes for +any of the beauties I have mentioned; she was intent upon her work, +and hung on the clothes-horse piece after piece of stiff, spotless +linen, which, as she could boast, could not be equalled in the +township. Miss Hepzibah herself was not a pretty picture. She was a +woman of thirty-five or thereabouts; with a thin, brown, hard-looking +face; sharp, twinkling gray eyes; and a long, grim, resolute mouth. +She wore a short skirt of dark material, a lilac calico jacket, and a +huge white apron. On ordinary occasions her head was adorned by a cap +of fearful workmanship and dimensions, but in the heat of her work +she had thrown it off, and her scanty brown hair was fastened tightly +back in a cue behind. + +Just as the old eight-day clock in the lobby solemnly struck four, +there was a loud knock at the back door, and the post-messenger from +Pendlepoint strode into the kitchen, holding in his hand a +black-edged letter. + +"Bad news for ye, Miss Hepsy, I doubt," he said. "It'll be from your +sister in Newhaven, I reckon." + +Miss Hepzibah took the black-edged letter coolly in her hand, eyed it +stolidly for a second, and then laid it on the table. "Sit down a +minute, Ebenezer, an' I'll bring ye a glass of cider," she said. + +And Ebenezer saw her depart to the larder nothing loath. But if he +thought Miss Hepsy meant to open the letter and confide its contents +to him he was mistaken, for she pushed it aside and went on with her +ironing. So after being briefly rested and refreshed, he went his +way, bidding her a surly good-afternoon. Still the letter lay +untouched upon the table till the last collar was hung on the horse, +the irons set on the flags to cool, and the blanket folded in the +dresser. Then Miss Hepsy broke the seal, and read without change of +expression what ought to have been a sorrowful intimation to her, the +news of the death of her younger and only sister, who had married and +been left a widow in Newhaven. But before Miss Hepsy had read to the +end, her expression _did_ change, and she exclaimed, "Wal, if this +ain't about the humbugginest fix. Hetty's boy and gal got to come +here--nowhere else to go. Wonder what Josh'll say?" + +Miss Hepsy sat down, and, crossing her long hands on her lap, +remained deep in thought till the old clock struck again, five this +time. Then she sprang to her feet, whisked the letter into the table +drawer, and fetching out baking-board and flour-basin, proceeded to +make dough for a supper cake. It was barely ready when her brother +came in at six, and he looked slightly surprised to see no signs of +the supper on the table. + +"I've had a letter from Newhaven, Josh," Miss Hepsy said abruptly. +"Hetty's dead; you won't be surprised to hear, I suppose. It's from +her minister; and he says you've got to come up right away and see +about things, an' fetch back the boy and gal with you. They've got +nowhere else to go, he says, an' we're their nearest kinsfolk. I got +thinkin' it over, and forgot my work, like a fool." + +Joshua Strong's grim face grew grimmer, if possible, as he listened +to his sister's words. He reached out his hand for the letter she had +taken from the drawer, and slowly spelt it to the end. + +"There ain't anything for it but grin and bear it, Hepsy," he said. +"Though I don't see what business folks has marryin' an' dyin' an' +leavin' their children to poor folks to keep. It'll be a mighty +difference to expense havin' other two mouths to feed an' backs to +clothe." + +"An' what I'm to make of two fine gentry children, as Hetty's are +sure to be, round all the time, I don't know," said Miss Hepsy, +whisking off a griddle cake with unnecessary vigour. "I declare Hetty +might have had more sense than think we could do with 'em. I'm rare +upset about it, I can tell ye." + +"It doesn't say what she died o'," said Joshua meditatively, twirling +the letter in his brown fingers. + +"Died o'?" repeated Miss Hepsy tartly. "Why, of pinin' arter that +husband o' her'n. What's her fine scholar done for her now, I wonder? +Left her a lone widder to die off and leave penniless children to +other folks to keep. But I'll warrant they'll work for their meat at +Thankful Rest. I'll have no stuck-up idle notions here." + +"How am I to get to Newhaven jes' now, I'd like to know," said +Joshua, "and all that corn waitin' to be stacked? It's clean beyond +me." + +Miss Hepsy thought a moment. "I have it. Miss Goldthwaite was here +to-day, an' she said the parson was goin' to Newhaven to-morrow to +stay a day or two. We'll get him to see to things an' bring the +children down. I'll go to Pendlepoint whenever I've got my supper, +an' ask him. Here, ask the grace quick an' let's be hurryin'," she +said; and before the few mumbled words had fallen from Joshua's lips, +Miss Hepsy was well through with her first cup of tea! + +At that moment, in a darkened chamber in a quiet city street, two +orphan children clung to each other weeping, wondering fearfully to +see so white, and cold, and still, the sweet face which had been wont +to smile upon them as only a mother can. + +They wept, but the days were at hand when they would realize more +bitterly than now what they had lost, and how utterly they were left +alone. + + + +II. + +THE PARSONAGE. + +In the pleasant front parlour of the parsonage at Pendlepoint, the +Rev. Frank Goldthwaite and his sister were lingering over their +tea-table. He was a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, with an +open kindly face, and grave thoughtful eyes, which yet at times could +sparkle with merriment as bright as that which so often shone in his +sister's blue orbs. A bright, winsome, lovable maiden was Carrie +Goldthwaite, the very joy of her brother's heart, and the apple of +every eye in the township. The brother and sister were deeply +attached to each other, the fact that they were separated from their +father's happy home in New York drawing them the more closely +together. They had been talking of Mr. Goldthwaite's projected visit +on the morrow, and he had at last succeeded in repeating faithfully +all the commissions his sister wished him to execute, when the +swinging of the garden gate, and a firm tread on the gravel, made +Miss Goldthwaite rise and peep behind the curtain. + +"It's Miss Hepsy, Frank," she said with a very broad smile; +"something very important must it be which brings her here. I don't +think she has been to the parsonage since the day we came." + +The next moment Miss Goldthwaite's "help" ushered in Miss Hepsy +Strong, attired in a shawl of brilliant hues and a marvellous bonnet. +She dropped a courtesy to the parson, and sat down on the extreme +edge of the chair Miss Goldthwaite offered her, declining, at the +same time, her offer of a cup of tea. Evidently, Miss Hepsy was not +used to company manners. + +"I've made bold to come down to-night, sir," she said, fixing her +keen eyes on Mr. Goldthwaite's pleasant face, "knowin' you was goin' +to Newhaven to-morrow, to ask if you would do Josh and me a +kindness." + +"If I can, Miss Strong," returned the minister courteously, "be sure +I shall be very glad to do so." + +"You've heard tell, I reckon," said Miss Hepsy, "of our sister Hetty +as married the schoolmaster in Newhaven?" + +Mr. Goldthwaite nodded. + +"Well, she's dead," continued Miss Hepsy with a business-like +stolidity inexplicable to Carrie Goldthwaite's warm heart, "an' she's +left two children, which Josh an' me'll hev to take, I reckon, seein' +their parents is both dead now. We'd a letter to-day from the +minister there--Mr. Penn he calls hisself, I think." + +"Yes, I know him," put in Mr. Goldthwaite. + +"He wants Josh to come up right away, which he can't possibly do an' +the corn not in the barn yet. A day's worth so many dollars jes' now, +an' can't be throwed away. Now, sir, will ye be so kind as to see to +things at Hetty's, an' fetch the children with you when ye come back? +It'll be a great favour to Josh and me." + +The minister concealed what he thought, and answered courteously that +he should do his best. Then Miss Hepsy rose and shook out her green +skirts. + +"The address is Fifteenth Street, sir, an' Hetty's name was Hurst. I +reckon ye'll find it easy enough. That's all; I'll be goin' now.--No, +thanks, Miss Goldthwaite, I can't sit down; it's 'most milking time, +and if Keziah's left to do it herself, there's no saying what might +happen.--So, good evenin', and thank ye, sir;" and before the brother +and sister recovered from their amazement, Miss Hepsy had whisked out +of the room, and the next minute her firm, man-like tread broke upon +their ears again. Mr. Goldthwaite looked at his sister with a comical +smile, which was answered by a peal of laughter from her sweet lips. + +"I can't help it indeed, Frank," she said. "I am so sorry for the +poor children, bereft of both parents. Their mother was a refined, +gentle creature, too, I have been told; of a different mould from +Miss Hepsy. The calmness, though, to ask you to do all this simply +because Joshua is too hard to spare a day's labour! Are you doing +altogether right, Frank, I wonder, in taking it off his hands?" + +"I could not refuse it, Carrie," returned the minister. "Like you, I +am sorry for the poor little orphans. Their life will not be all +sunshine, I fear, at Thankful Rest." + +Miss Goldthwaite sighed, and from the open window watched in silence +Miss Hepsy's brilliant figure crossing the river by the bridge a +hundred yards beyond the parsonage gate. + +"I think, Frank, that among all your parishioners there is not a more +unhappy pair than Joshua Strong and his sister. I wish they could be +made to see how differently God meant them to spend their lives. It +saddens me to see their hardness and sourness." + +"Perhaps these little children may do them good, dear," returned the +minister gravely. "It would not be the first time God has used the +influence of little children to do what no other power on earth +could. We will pray it may be so." + +"Yes," returned Carrie Goldthwaite; and the shade deepened on her +sweet face as she added again, "Poor little things! it will be a sore +change from the tender care of a mother. We must do what we can, +Frank, to make their home at Thankful Rest as happy as possible. We +had such a happy one ourselves, I feel an intense pity for those who +have not. There is Judge Keane on horseback at the gate. He wants +either you or me to go out and speak with him." + +The minister rose, and both stepped out to the veranda, and down the +steps to the garden. The judge had alighted, and fastening his bridle +to the gate-post, came up the path to meet them. He was an old man, +with white hair and beard; but his fine figure was as erect and +stately as it had been a quarter of a century before. He shook hands +cordially with the minister, touched Carrie Goldthwaite's brow with +his lips, and then said, in a brisk, cheerful voice,-- + +"My wife heard you were going to Newhaven for a couple of days, and +sent me down to say she would expect you, miss," (he nodded to +Carrie,) "at the Red House to-morrow, to stay till he comes back. I +may say yes, I suppose?" + +"Yes, and thank you, Judge Keane," said Miss Goldthwaite with a +little grateful smile. "Even with Abbie's company, it is very dull +when Frank is away. Won't you come in?" + +The judge shook his head, and turned to the gate again. "Not +to-night, my dear. Good-night, and good-bye, Frank." + +"Have you no commissions, judge?" asked the minister. "I shall have +plenty of time at my disposal; my own business is very little." + +"No, I think not," returned the judge. "But, let me see." + +Miss Goldthwaite moved to the gate, and laid her hand caressingly on +Beauty's glossy neck. + +"I only envy you one thing, Judge Keane," she said; "and this is it. +What a beauty she is!" + +The judge laughed, and his eyes lingered on the slim, girlish figure +in its dainty muslin garb; and on the sweet, unclouded face, which +was a true index to the happy heart within. + +"Beauty shall be yours by-and-by," he laughed; and a swift wave of +colour swept across her face, and she hid it in the animal's glossy +mane.--"Safe journey, Frank. Come to the Red House for your sister +when you want her.--Steady, Beauty." He sprang to the saddle, and +held out his hand to Carrie. + +"I'm glad you've said yes, my dear," he whispered, with a mischievous +twinkle in his gray eyes, "or a certain young man would have thought +nothing of coming to take you by main force. Shall I tell him of that +sweet blush? Or--" + +But Miss Goldthwaite had fled, and Beauty flew off like an arrow. + + + +III. + +THE ARRRIVAL. + +On Friday morning, Miss Hepsy received a brief note from Mr. +Goldthwaite, stating that he had attended the funeral of Mrs. Hurst, +paid the little she had owed in Newhaven, and would be at Pendlepoint +by the noon cars that day, when he requested Miss Hepsy to be in +waiting at the depot to meet her nephew and niece. + +Now, Friday was Miss Hepsy's cleaning day. Although ordinary eyes +would have been puzzled to point out what spot in that shining domain +required more than the touch of a duster, the house was upturned from +ceiling to basement, and received such sweeping and dusting and +polishing, such scouring and scrubbing, that it was a marvel Miss +Hepsy was not exhausted at the end of it. She had just turned out the +parlour chairs into the lobby, and was busy with broom and dust-pan, +sweeping up invisible dust, when Ebenezer brought her Mr. +Goldthwaite's letter. So much did it upset her, that he had to depart +without his glass of cider, for she took no more notice of him than +if he had been one of the pillars at the door. It was eleven o'clock +almost; it would take her every moment to dress and be at the depot +in time; so she had to set the chairs back into the half-swept room, +replace her working garb by the green dress and the plaid shawl, take +her blue umbrella and trudge off, leaving the management of the +dinner to Keziah. Her frame of mind as she did so augured ill for the +welcome of her sister's children. + +The cars were half an hour late, and Miss Hepsy strode up and down +the platform in a ferment of wrath and impatience, thinking of the +dinner under awkward Keziah's supervision; of the sweeping and +dusting and baking all to be done in the afternoon; of the bother two +strange children were sure to be; of a hundred and one things, which +brought her temper up to fever heat by the time the train puffed into +the depot. From the window of a first-class compartment two faces +looked out eagerly, but failed to recognize in Miss Hepsy the sister +of the dear dead mother they had so lately lost. Miss Hepsy saw Mr, +Goldthwaite step out first, followed by a tall, handsome-looking boy, +well dressed and refined-looking, who in his turn assisted with care +and tenderness a slight, delicate-looking girl, who bore such a +strong resemblance to her dead mother that her aunt had no difficulty +in recognizing her. She stamped forward, nodded to Mr. Goldthwaite, +and held out a hand in turn to each of the children. + +"I'm tired to death waitin' on these pesky cars," she said, +addressing herself to Mr. Goldthwaite. "I hope they've behaved +themselves, sir, an' not bothered ye.--Bless me, children, don't +stare at me so; I'm your Aunt Hepzibah. You look as if you had never +seen a woman afore." + +"There is a trunk, Miss Hepsy," said Mr. Goldthwaite, unable to help +an amused smile playing about his mouth. "You will need to send a +cart for it.--They have been very good children indeed, and instead +of bothering, have greatly helped to make my journey enjoyable." + +"I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure," said Miss Hepsy, looking very much +as if she was not glad at all. "Well, I guess we'd better be +movin'.--What's your name, boy?" she said, turning to the lad with an +abruptness which made him start. + +"My name is Tom, aunt," he answered promptly; "this is Lucy." +"Miss Hetty might have called one of ye after her own kin.--Well, +good-day, Mr. Goldthwaite; I guess Josh'll walk down to the parsonage +at night an' pay up.--Come along." + +"Good-bye, Tom, good-bye, Lucy, in the meantime," said the minister +kindly. "We shall see each other often, I fancy." + +"Oh, sir, I hope so," said Lucy, speaking for the first time. "You +have been so kind to us when we had nobody else." Her dark eyes +suddenly overflowed, and she turned away to follow her aunt, while +Tom, whistling to vent some strong feeling, went on in front. + +Miss Hepsy walked as if for a wager, and never opened her mouth once, +until they stood upon the threshold of Thankful Rest. + +"Now, look here; this is yer home," she said; then, fixing grim eyes +alternately on their faces, "an' I hope ye'll behave, an' show yer +gratitude for it. That's all.--I bet Keziah's burned the soup;" with +which words Miss Hepsy burst into the kitchen, ready to extinguish +the unfortunate "help" if everything was not up to the mark. The +brother and sister lingered a moment on the threshold, feeling new +and strange and sad, their welcome had been so disappointing. + +"Lucy," said Tom Hurst suddenly, "do you believe that woman's mamma's +sister? I don't." + +"Of course she is," returned Lucy. "And you must not call her 'that +woman,' Tom; she is our aunt, mamma's sister, you know, and we must +behave, she says." + +Tom made a wry face. "I don't feel like behaving any," he said. "But +I say, Lucy, isn't this a prime place?" + +Lucy's eyes beamed as they looked round the pretty, peaceful +homestead, with its laden orchard, wealth of flowers and glorious +summer beauty. But she did not answer. + +"We'd better go in, I suppose, though we weren't asked," said Tom. "I +wonder if it's near dinner-time; I'm famished." + +He pushed open the door, and, followed by Lucy, entered the +wide-bricked kitchen. A sudden change had taken place in Aunt Hepsy's +appearance. In the twinkling of an eye she had donned her working +garb again, and was paring potatoes at the table. Fortunately, the +dinner had progressed satisfactorily during her absence. + +"Come in and sit down," she said, pointing to the settle at the fire. +"Ye'll be hungry, I reckon; but it'll soon be dinner-time. I don't +approve of eating 'tween meals.--I guess you never did any of this +kind o' work, Lucy?" + +"No, Aunt Hepsy," returned Lucy timidly. "I've seen Hannah do it; +that was our girl." + +"Humph; ye won't be long here before ye can pare potatoes as well as +Hannah. You'll be willin' to learn, I hope?" + +"I shall do my best, Aunt Hepsy," returned the girl meekly. + +"Mamma never pared potatoes, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom boldly. + +"No; I know she didn't, boy," said Miss Hepsy severely. "Your mother +was as useless as a bit o' Sunday china.--I hope you won't be like +her, Lucy." + +"I hope she will, Aunt Hepsy," spoke up Tom again. "Mamma was +perfectly splendid, everybody said." + +"You'd better go outside, boy," said Miss Hepsy wrathfully, "till you +learn to speak respectfully to your aunt. I know what your mother +was. She was my own sister, I hope." + +Tom caught up his cap and fled, nothing loath; his aunt irritated +him, and made him forget himself. + +"How old are you, child?" said Miss Hepsy, turning to Lucy, after a +moment's silence. + +"I am fourteen past, Aunt Hepsy; Tom is twelve." + +Miss Hepsy dropped her paring-knife and stared. + +"Bless me, child, you don't look more'n nine, and that great boy +looks years older'n you. What have ye fed on?" + +Lucy smiled faintly. "I have not been very strong this summer, Aunt +Hepsy; and I was so anxious about mamma being so poorly. I couldn't +sleep at nights, nor eat anything hardly. I suppose that's what made +me thin." Miss Hepsy sniffed. + +"Have any of ye been to school?" was her next question. + +"No, Aunt Hepsy. Papa taught us till he died, and then mamma kept up +our lessons as well as she could. Tom is a good scholar; and, oh, +such a beautiful painter!" + +"Painter!" echoed Miss Hepsy. "What, fence rails and gates?" + +Lucy looked very much shocked. "Oh no; he draws landscapes and +things, and went to the Art School as long as mamma could afford it. +Then he practised at home. He means to be a great painter some day, +like the ones he read about." + +"Humph!" said Miss Hepsy contemptuously. "I guess his uncle'll find +him work in painting the farm an' the gates afresh this fall. It'll +save a man. Now then, there's them taters on. Come upstairs an' I'll +show you your room." + +Lucy rose at once, and obediently followed her aunt along the wide +flagged passage and up the polished oak steps to a tiny little +chamber in the attic fiat. It was poorly furnished, but it was +scrupulously clean; and from the window Lucy's delighted eyes caught +a glimpse of the broad green meadow, the shining water of the river, +and beyond, the houses of the town nestling in the shadow of the +giant slopes of Pendle Peak. + +"Your brother's room is on t'other side o' the landing," explained +Miss Hepsy; "an' I'll 'spect you to keep 'em both as clean's a new +pin. I'm mighty partickler, mind, an' can't abide untidiness. An' if +yer mother's brought ye up to think yersel' a lady, the sooner ye get +rid of that notion the better, 'cos yell have to work here; we don't +keep no idle hands. Get off your hat an' cape now, an' come down as +fast's ye like, an' help set the table for dinner." + +Miss Hepsy then whisked out of the room, and clattered down the +stairs in haste. + +Lucy moved to the window recess, and stood looking upon the peace and +beauty without, until her eyes were brimming with tears. Then she +knelt down by the side of the bed, sobbing pitifully, "Mamma, mamma! +come back, O dear mamma! we have nobody on earth but you!" + + + +IV. + +THE NEW HOME. + +Meanwhile Tom had gone on an exploring expedition. He investigated +every outhouse and shed, frightened the geese and turkeys into fits +by rushing through their paddock shouting at the pitch of his voice, +caught the superannuated mule by the tail, and made her fly off like +a four-year old, made friends with the savage watch-dog on the chain, +coaxed the pigeons to fly to him, and finally went off to the fields +in search of his uncle. On the road outside the farmyard gate he met +a team, driven by a big uncouth-looking man, dressed in coarse +trowsers, a red shirt, and a battered straw hat. + +"You'll be one of the men, I guess," said Tom, stopping in front of +him. "Can you tell me where my Uncle Joshua is?" + +The man grinned. "Air you Hetty's boy, youngster?" + +"I'm Mrs. Hurst's son," corrected Tom proudly. "Who are you?" + +"If I'm not yer Uncle Josh, I reckon he ain't be home terday," +returned the man.--"Hi! up, Sally; you and me's not fit company, I +guess, for a city gent." + +"If you _are_ Uncle Joshua, I beg your pardon I'm sure," said Tom +with his usual frankness. "Won't you shake hands, Uncle Joshua?" + +Uncle Joshua took the thin, delicate hand in his own brown palm, and +looked at it curiously. + +"Jes' as Hepsy said--Hetty's boy's more for ornament than use. Well, +youngster, now you're here ye'll work for yer bread, I hope. We're +poor folks here, an' can't keep idle hands. Ye'll hev to learn to +mind a team like this." + +"I wouldn't mind if I'd a better horse, Uncle Josh," said Tom, +walking alongside of his uncle, and eying the hungry-looking steed +critically. "See his ribs. Don't you feed him ever, Uncle Josh?" + +The man's face flushed angrily. "Shut up, younker!" he said savagely. +"Don't speak about things ye know nothing about." + +Tom walked on a minute or two in silence, but in no way disconcerted. + +"This is a very nice place, Uncle Josh," he said. "Mamma often told +us about it, but it's prettier than I thought it would be." + +"The place'll do, I reckon," admitted Uncle Josh. "But farmin' ain't +what it was. It's a hard job gettin' meat an' drink out o'd +now-a-days." + +"Mamma told us you were rich," said Tom in surprise. "But you can't +be, because--because--" + +"Wal?" said Uncle Josh, with a slow, stupid smile. + +"Because your horses are all thin, and _you_ wear these clothes; and +Aunt Hepsy doesn't dress like a lady. Rich people don't live so." + +"You're a fool, youngster. Just your mother over again. You don't +know, I suppose, that to save money folks must live cheap, an' not be +all outside show. Ye'll learn better, maybe, afore ye've been long at +Thankful Rest,--Hi, Sally! Whoa, lass." + +The thin, wretched-looking horse stood still, thankful to be released +from the heavy waggon; and Tom watched all his uncle's movements with +much interest. He followed him from the yard to the stable, saw him +give the five horses a scanty feed of corn and a pail of water. + +"We'll go and hev a bite o' dinner now," he said; then, "Your +sister'll be indoors, I guess?" + +Tom nodded, and the two proceeded to the house. Lucy was downstairs +by this time, awkwardly placing knives, forks, and plates on the +table, under Miss Hepsy's directions. A glad smile crept to her eyes +at sight of Tom; it seemed ages since he had gone out. She looked +timidly at her uncle as he shook hands with her, remarking she was a +pale-faced thing, and needed work and exercise to make her spry. Then +the company sat down, and Tom, if Lucy did not, did ample justice to +Miss Hepsy's cookery. It was an unsociable, uncomfortable meal. Aunt +and uncle ate, as they did everything else, as if for a wager, and +were finished before Lucy had touched her meat and potatoes. + +"Look spry, child," said her aunt, beginning to clear away almost +immediately. "You'll ha' to learn to eat to some purpose. Time don't +last for ever." + +Lucy pushed back her unfinished plateful and rose. + +"Not dainty enough for ye, is it not?" was the next remark. "Ye'll +eat it by-and-by maybe." + +"I'm not hungry, Aunt Hepsy," she said with quivering lips; and Tom +bit his to keep back angry words surging to them. + +"May I go out for a little, Aunt Hepsy?" Lucy asked. + +"When you've wiped them dishes you may," replied Aunt Hepsy. "I lost +two good hours goin' to that plaguy depot for you, so the least ye +can do is to help me through.--Josh, find summat for the boy to do; +'tain't no use hevin' him 'round idle lookin' for mischief." + +"Come along to the barn then, What's-yer-name," said Uncle Josh, +picking up his hat and sauntering to the door.--"Don't be too hard on +that little 'un, Hepsy; she don't look over strong." + +"Mind yer own business, will ye, Josh Strong," was Miss Hepsy's smart +rejoinder. "I guess I'm able to mind mine." + +Under Miss Hepsy's directions, Lucy succeeded in washing up the +dishes without disaster, and was then requested to come to the far +parlour and receive a lesson in sweeping and dusting. Then baking +came on, and with one thing and another Miss Hepsy managed to keep +the child within doors and on her feet till past four o'clock. She +was fainting with fatigue, but would not complain, and Miss Hepsy was +too busy to observe the pallor on her face. + +"May I sit down for a minute, please?" she said at last, after +bringing a huge can of flour from the larder. "I am afraid I am going +to faint, Aunt Hepsy;" and she looked like enough it, as she sank +wearily on the settle, and let her white lids droop over her tired +eyes. + +Miss Hepsy was more than annoyed. "A delicate child above all +humbugs," she muttered, as she sprinkled a few drops of spring water +on the girl's face, and held her smelling-salts to her nostrils. + +"Ye'd better go out an' get a mouthful of fresh air, I suppose," she +said ungraciously when Lucy rose at last, with a faint touch of +returning colour in her cheeks. + +And Lucy gladly went upstairs for her hat, and crept out into the +beautiful sunshine. The garden gate was locked, but she managed to +turn the key, and went slowly, in a maze of delight, along the trim +paths, past beds of roses, hollyhocks, pansies, and sweet-scented +gilly-flowers. The orchard beyond looked tempting indeed, where the +sunbeams glistened through the bending boughs of apple, plum, and +cherry trees, on the soft carpet of grass beneath. She managed to +unfasten the gate there too, and choosing a wide-spreading +apple-tree, from which she could see the meadow and the river, flung +herself on the grass beneath it. There she fell asleep, and Tom found +her an hour after. His fine face looked worried and discontented, and +he flung himself beside her, saying gloomily,-- + +"How on earth I am to live here, Lucy Hurst, I don't know." + +"What is it, Tom?" inquired she, forgetting her own troubles in +sympathy for him. + +"Oh, Uncle Josh, that's all. He hasn't any patience with me, and +makes me speak up impertinently to him. And the things they say about +mamma are perfectly shameful. I won't bear it now, I won't." + +His sister's gentle hand touched his lips to stem the passionate +words. + +"You remember, Tom," she said softly, "what mamma said to us. We were +to endure all such little trials, remembering that it is God who +sends them. Think how grieved she would be if she could hear us +grumbling so soon." + +"I don't care; I can't help it," said the boy recklessly. "It isn't +anything for you to be good, Lucy; you are just like mamma--a kind of +saint, I think. For me it is just a long battle all day. If a fellow +conquered in the end, it would not matter; but as it is--O Lucy, +Lucy! why did mamma die? It was so easy to be happy and good when we +had her to love and help us. I wish I were dead too." + +Poor, proud, passionate Tom! His sister could only put her gentle arm +about his neck and cry too, her heart so sorely re-echoed the painful +longing in his voice. + +So the first day at Thankful Rest did not promise very brightly for +Tom and Lucy Hurst. + + + +V. + +SUNDAY + +Saturday was the busiest day in the week at Thankful Rest. There was +churning to be done, extra cooking for Sunday, mending and darning, +and the weekly polishing of every bit of brass, and copper, and tin +in the establishment. Lucy rubbed at them till her arms ached, +without bringing them to the required height of brightness, and was +at last sent off to pick the few remaining gooseberries for a tart. +That was a piece of work much more to her liking, and she lingered so +long out in the sunshine that Aunt Hepsy came at last, and scolded +her long and shrilly; which took all the enjoyment away. Tom received +his lessons from Uncle Josh outside; and, judging from his face when +he came in at dinner-time, he had not found them particularly +agreeable. Tom Hurst was a dainty youth, in fact, and shrank from +soiling his fingers with the tasks allotted to him: and seeing that +grim Uncle Josh had not spared him, the forenoon had been one long +battle; for, try as he might, Tom could not keep a bridle on his +tongue. + +"I guess I'll hev a pesky deal o' trouble with that young 'un, +Hepsy," his uncle said that night when the children had gone to bed. +"He doesn't take to farm work; an' he's that peart I durstn't speak +to him. Queer thing if we've got to keep the young upstart in +idleness." + +"Idleness!" quoth Miss Hepsy wrathfully. "I'd take a rope's end to +him if he didn't keep a civil tongue in his head. The gal's bad +enough; though she never speaks back she looks at me that proud-like +wi' them great eyes o' her'n, I feel as if I'd like to shake her. +There'll never be a day's peace now they've come." + +"Tell ye what, though, Hepsy," said Josh. "I'm gwine to pay off +Brahm, an' make Tom do his work. He ain't that much younger, an' he +looks strong enough! Couldn't you do without Keziah, and that would +square expenses?" + +"I'll see how the child turns out in a week or so. She's a pinin' +thing--doesn't eat enough to keep a mouse alive." + +"It's a thankless thing, any way ye like to take it, Hepsy, hevin' +other folks' youngsters round. I don't see why we should be bothered +with 'em;" with which remark Josh went to bed. + +Lucy awoke next morning, remembering it was Sunday, with a feeling of +gladness that they might perhaps chance to see their friend Mr. +Goldthwaite at church. The Strongs were regular as clock-work in +their half-day attendance at the meeting-house. The morn'ng was +devoted to feeding cattle, pigs, and poultry, and tidying up the +house; and after dinner the premises were left in charge of Brahm and +Keziah, and the master and mistress turned their footsteps towards +Pendlepoint. The meeting-house was almost close to the parsonage, and +was a pretty, primitive structure, with no attempt at display or +decoration, and yet so pleasant and homelike inside that Lucy felt a +sense of rest as her eyes wandered round it. Tom nudged her and +whispered, "Nice little chapel, Lucy;" at which Miss Hepsy held up a +warning finger and shook her head. Tom blushed and laughed, Aunt +Hepsy looked so intensely comical. Then she became very red in the +face, and opening her hymn-book, kept her eyes on its pages till Mr. +Goldthwaite came in. His eyes travelled straight to the Strongs' pew, +and Lucy thought she saw a kindly gleam of recognition in his eyes. +Carrie was at the harmonium. She, too, looked once or twice in their +direction; and both children found her face so sweet and pleasant +that they could not lift their eyes off it. The chapel was full, and +the singing of the hymn was so hearty and so sweet, that Lucy felt +her eyes dim, she could not tell why. But it seemed to remind her of +her mother. + +Mr. Goldthwaite preached only half an hour; but his sermon was so +beautiful and comforting, and so easily understood, that Lucy thought +Sunday would recompense her for all the troubles of the week. Tom's +eyes never left Mr. Goldthwaite's earnest face, and I believe that +the memory of his words remained with the boy for weeks after. He had +never heard a sermon in his life he had understood and _felt_ like +this one. Uncle Josh snored rather noisily in the corner, and Aunt +Hepsy nodded occasionally over her Bible--the minister's message did +not even reach their ears. + +When the service was over and they reached the church porch, they +found Miss Goldthwaite standing there. She had a nod and a smile for +every one, but her particular mission was with Tom and Lucy. She +shook hands with the uncle and aunt, and then bent her sweet eyes on +the children's faces. + +"These be Hetty's children, Miss Goldthwaite," said Miss Hepsy. "Lucy +and Tom." + +"Yes, I know," nodded Miss Goldthwaite. "I came round to see them. I +want them to take tea with me to-day, at my brother's special +request." + +Miss Hepsy did not look at all delighted. "They'll jes' bother ye, +Miss Goldthwaite," said she; "an' besides, 'taint no use visitin' on +Sundays--I don't like it." + +"It's hardly visiting, Miss Hepsy," said the young lady in the same +pleasant voice. "And when they are at Pendlepoint you may as well let +them. We will bring them safely home. Come now, Miss Hepsy, you know +nobody ever refuses me anything." + +"Let them bide, Hepsy," said Uncle Josh, remembering what trouble and +expense the minister had spared him, and not wishing to appear so +unmindful of it. "I guess they won't come to no harm at the +parson's." + +So Miss Hepsy was forced to grant a reluctant consent, and Miss +Carrie bore off the happy children in triumph. At the parsonage gate +Mr. Goldthwaite joined them, and gave them both a hearty welcome. +Even shy Lucy was at her ease immediately with Miss Carrie; for who +could resist that bright, caressing manner, and those beaming, loving +eyes? She carried Lucy off to her own pretty room to take off her +hat, and kept her there talking and showing her the beautiful view +from the window till Mr. Goldthwaite had to call to them to come to +tea. What a pleasant meal it was, and how the little company enjoyed +themselves. Then, when it was over, Mr. Goldthwaite took Tom to the +garden, and drew him on to talk of himself, of his hopes and +ambitions, and sympathized so heartily and cheerfully with him that +Tom began to think it was worth while coming to Thankful Rest, if for +nothing else than this pleasant hour at the parsonage. Meanwhile +Carrie had opened the piano, and sang low and softly one or two +hymns; and when she looked round, wondering why Lucy had moved from +her side, she saw her on the sofa with her face hidden. She rose, and +sitting down beside her, put her arm about her, and whispered +gently,-- + +"My poor child, what is it?" + +"Mamma, Miss Goldthwaite," sobbed Lucy. "She used always to sing to +us on Sunday evenings just so, and it makes me feel dreadful to think +she never will any more." + +"Yes, Lucy, I understand," said Carrie; and the very sound of her +voice soothed the child's troubled heart. "But you know who has +promised to comfort the mourning heart if we will but ask Him? Our +God is 'the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort.'" + +A quick smile broke through Lucy's tears. "If it were not for that, +Miss Goldthwaite," she said simply, "I should have died when mamma +did." + +"And just think, dear," went on the sweet voice, "of the glad time +coming when we shall all meet, please God, in a happier world than +this. We shall not remember these sad hours then, shall we, Lucy? I +know, my dear, how lonely and sad and strange you feel here now; but +God can make us happy anywhere." + +"Yes, Miss Carrie, I know it," returned the child simply and +earnestly; "only I am so troubled sometimes about Tom. Mamma was +often troubled about him too. He is so passionate and quick and +proud. Oh, I don't know how he is to get on with Uncle Joshua and +Aunt Hepsy!" + +"We will hope for the best," said Miss Carrie cheerfully; "and +by-and-by, perhaps, a way may be opened up for him to get his heart's +desire.--Would you like to see my pets, Lucy? I have chickens, and +pigeons, and dogs, and kittens, and all sorts of things. Frank says +the yard is a menagerie." + +"Yes, I would like it very much. There are some pretty chickens and +kittens at Aunt Hepsy's, but she won't let me pet them." + +In the delight of examining Miss Goldthwaite's menagerie sadder +thoughts flew, and the evening sped on golden wings. The time came at +last for the two to bid a regretful good-bye to the parsonage and +turn their faces homewards. The minister and his sister accompanied +them half across the meadow, and bade them good-night, with many +promises of future meetings. + +Tom and Lucy walked on in silence till they reached the paddock, and +then the lad said abruptly, "It will not be so hard to live here, +Lucy, if we can see them sometimes. I don't believe there's another +minister like Mr. Goldthwaite in the State; nor another minister's +sister either." + +Lucy smiled, her heart re-echoing her brother's words. + +"I have not felt so happy since mamma died," she said softly. "O Tom, +is it not true what she used to say--'That God gives us something to +be grateful for everywhere'?" + +"Yes," said Tom soberly; and the next moment Aunt Hepsy's tall figure +appeared at the kitchen door, and her shrill voice broke the pleasant +Sabbath calm. + +"Here, come in, you two. Air you going to stand there all night? It's +'most nine o'clock--time you were in bed. I guess you won't go +visitin' on Sunday any more." + + + +VI. + +LOSING HOLD OF THE BRIDLE. + +It had rained all day, and not all that day only, but the best part +of the one before. Not a soft, gentle summer rain, but a fierce, wild +storm, which beat the poor flowers to the earth, spoiled the fruit, +and overflowed the river till half the meadow lay under water. There +was plenty of work in the barn for Uncle Josh and the men, and plenty +in the house for Aunt Hepsy and the girls. The scullery was full of +wet clothes waiting on a dry day. That of itself, not to speak of the +damage to the orchard, was sufficient to make Aunt Hepsy a very +disagreeable person to live with while the storm lasted. Her tongue +went from early morning till afternoon, scolding alternately at Lucy +and Keziah. The latter was a stolid being, on whom her mistress's +talking made no impression; but it made Lucy nervous and awkward, and +her work was very badly done indeed. At three o'clock Aunt Hepsy sent +her to wash her face, and gave her a long side of a sheet to hem. So +Lucy was sitting on the settle, with a very grave and +sorrowful-looking face, when Tom came in at four. His uncle had no +need of him just then, and had sent him to the house to be out of the +way. Keziah was feeding the calves, and Aunt Hepsy upstairs dressing, +if that word can be appropriately applied to the slight change her +toilet underwent in the afternoon. Tom sat down at the table in the +window, and leaning his arms upon it, looked out gloomily on the +desolate garden, over which the chill, wet mist hung like a pall. +Neither spoke for several minutes. + +"How do you get on now, Lucy?" asked Tom at length. "How sober you +look. Has she been worrying you?" + +"I daresay I am very stupid," said Lucy low and quietly; "but when +Aunt Hepsy talks so loud I don't know what I am doing." + +Miss Hepsy entered at that moment, fortunately without having heard +Lucy's patient speech. "Don't lean your wet, dirty arms on the table, +boy," said she with a sharp glance at Tom. "If you must be in, sit on +your chair like a Christian." + +Tom immediately sat up like a poker. + +"What's yer uncle doin'?" was her next question. + +"He's oiling waggon wheels," answered Tom, "and sent me in." + +Miss Hepsy took out a very ugly piece of knitting from the +dresser-drawer, and sat down opposite Lucy. "It's a pity boys ain't +learned to sew and knit," she said grimly. "It would save a deal of +women's time doin' it for 'em. I think I'll teach you, Tom." + +"No, thank you, Aunt Hepsy." + +"You're much too smart with your tongue, young 'un," said Miss Hepsy +severely, and then relapsed into stolid silence. The click of her +knitting needles, the ticking of the clock, and the rain beating on +the panes, were the only sounds to be heard in the house. Tom drew a +half-sheet of paper and a pencil from his pocket, laid it on the +table, and kept his attention there for a few minutes. Lucy ventured +to cast her eyes in his direction, and he held up the paper to her. A +smile ran all over her face and finally ended in a laugh. Aunt Hepsy +looked round suspiciously to see Tom stuffing something into his +pocket. + +"What were you laughing at, Lucy?" Lucy looked distressed and +answered nothing. + +"What's that you're stuffing into your pocket, Tom?" she said, +turning her eagle eyes again on Tom. + +"A bit paper, aunt, that's all." + +"People don't laugh at common bits o' paper, nor go stuffin' em into +pockets like that. Hand it over." + +"I'd rather not, Aunt Hepsy," said the boy. + +"I rather you would," was her dry retort. "Out with it." + +"It's mine, Aunt Hepsy, and you wouldn't care to see it." + +"How many more times am I to say out with it?" she said angrily. +"I'll let you feel the weight of my hand if you don't look sharp." + +"It's mine, Aunt Hepsy. I won't let you see it," he said doggedly. + +Miss Hepsy's face grew very red, and she flung her knitting on the +rug and strode up to him. "Give me that paper." + +"Well, there 'tis; I hope you like it. I wish I'd made it uglier," +cried he angrily, and flung the paper on the table. + +Aunt Hepsy smoothed it out very deliberately, and held it up to the +light. It was a picture of herself, cleverly done, but highly +exaggerated, and the word _Scold_ printed beneath it. Slowly the red +faded from her face and was replaced by a kind of purple hue. She +lifted her hand and brought it with full force on Tom's cheek. He +sprang to his feet quivering with rage, and pain, and humiliation. +His fierce temper was up, and Lucy trembled for what was to follow. +"Next time you make a fool o' me, boy," said Aunt Hepsy with a slow +smile, "perhaps ye'll get summat ye'll like even less than that." + +Then the boy's anger found vent in words. "If you weren't a woman I'd +knock you down. I hate you, and I wish I'd died before I came to this +horrid place. It's worse than being a beggar living with such people. +You touch me again, and I'll give it you though you are a woman." + +Aunt Hepsy took him by the shoulders and pushed him before her out to +the yard. "Ye'll be cool, I guess, afore I let ye in again," she said +briefly, and then came back to Lucy. + +She was weeping with her face hidden and her work lying on the settle +beside her. + +"Nice brother that of your'n," said Aunt Hepsy. "If he ain't growin' +up to be hanged, my name ain't Hepsy Strong. Here, go on with your +seam, an' don't be foolin' there." + +Lucy silently obeyed, but Aunt Hepsy could not control her thoughts, +and they went pitifully out into the rain after Tom. He stood a +minute or two in a dazed way, and then hurried from the yard, through +the garden and the orchard to the meadow. In one little moment the +victory over temper he had won and kept for weeks was gone; and in +the shame and sorrow which followed, only one person could help him, +and that was Mr. Goldthwaite. There had been many quiet talks with +him since the first Sunday evening, and his lessons had sunk deep +into the boy's heart, and he had indeed been earnestly trying to make +the best of the life and work which had no interest nor sweetness for +him. As he sped through the long, wet grass, heedless of the rain +pelting on his uncovered head, he felt more wretched than he had ever +done in his life before. He had to wade ankle-deep to the bridge, but +fortunately did not encounter a living soul all the way to the +parsonage. Miss Goldthwaite was sewing in the parlour window, and +looked up in amazement to see a drenched, bareheaded boy coming up +the garden path. + +"Why, Tom, it can't be you, is it?" she exclaimed when she opened the +door. "What is it? Nobody ill at Thankful Rest, I hope." + +"No," said Tom. "It's only me; I want to see Mr. Goldthwaite." + +"He has just gone out, but will not be many minutes," said Miss +Goldthwaite, more amazed than ever. "Come in and get dried, and take +tea with me; I was just thinking to have it alone." + +Looking at Miss Goldthwaite in her dainty gray dress and spotless +lace collar and blue ribbons, Tom began to realize that he had done a +foolish thing coming to the parsonage to bother her with his soaking +garments. He would have run off, but Miss Carrie prevented him by +pulling him into the lobby and closing the door. Then she made him +come to the kitchen and remove his boots and jacket. "I have not a +coat to fit, so you'll need to sit in a shawl," laughed she; and the +sound was so infectious that, miserable though he was, Tom laughed +too. Miss Carrie knew perfectly there was a reason for his coming, +and that it would come out by-and-by without asking. So it did. They +had finished tea, and Tom was sitting on a stool at the fire just +opposite Miss Goldthwaite. There had been silence for a little while. + +"I had a frightful row with Aunt Hepsy this afternoon, Miss +Goldthwaite." + +"I am very sorry to hear it," answered she very gravely. "What was it +about?" + +Then the whole story came out; and then Miss Carrie folded up her +work, and bent her sweet eyes on the boy's downcast, sorrowful face. +"I am not going to lecture you, Tom," she said soberly. "But I am +sorry my brave soldier should have been such a coward to-day." + +Tom flung up his head a little proudly. "I am not a coward, Miss +Goldthwaite." + +"Yes, Tom; you remember how Jesus stood all the buffeting and cruelty +of his persecutors, when he could so easily have smitten them all to +death if he had willed. Compare your petty trials with his, and think +how weak you have been." + +Tom was silent. "When my temper is up, Miss Goldthwaite," he said at +length, "I don't care for anything or anybody, except to get it out +somehow. I was keeping so straight, too; I hadn't once answered back +to Uncle Josh or Aunt Hepsy for weeks. It's no use trying to be +good." + +"No use? Why, Tom, if everybody gave up at the first stumble, what +would become of the world, do you think? Our life, you know, is +nothing but falling and rising again, and will be till we reach the +land where all these trials are over. Keep up a brave heart. Begin +again, and keep a double watch over self." + +"I feel as if it would be easy enough to do it when I'm talking to +you or Mr. Goldthwaite, but at home it is different. I shall never be +able to get on with them though I live a hundred years. And O Miss +Goldthwaite, you don't know how I want to go on drawing and painting. +I feel as if I could die sometimes because I can't." + +"When the time comes, dear; and it will come sooner, perhaps, than +you think," said Miss Carrie hopefully. "You will prize it all the +more because of this sharp discipline. Do your duty like a man, and +believe me, God will reward you for it one day." + +"I will try, Miss Goldthwaite," said Tom with a new great earnestness +of face and voice. + +"Now," said Miss Carrie then, with a quick, bright smile, "I'm going +to send you home. I don't mean to tell my brother anything about your +visit. Our talk is to be a secret. He would be so grieved that you +have come to grief again through that tongue of yours. And I hope it +will be a long time before its master loses hold of the bridle +again." She went with him to the kitchen and helped him to dress, and +then opened the door for him. "Now, Tom, you are to go home and tell +your aunt you are sorry for what happened this afternoon; because you +should not have spoken as you did. And remember, Tom, that a +soldier's first duty is obedience." And without giving him a chance +to demur, she nodded good-bye and ran into the house. + +It was raining heavily still, but that Tom did not mind; he was +wondering how to frame his apology to his aunt, and how she would +receive it. + +It was dark when he reached Thankful Rest, and the kitchen door was +barred. He knocked twice, and was answered at last by Aunt Hepsy, who +looked visibly relieved. Feeling that if he waited till he was in the +light his courage would flee, he said hurriedly,-- + +"I've been to the parsonage, Aunt Hepsy, and I want to tell you I'm +sorry I drew the picture and spoke to you as I did. If you'll forgive +me this time I won't be so rude again." + +Aunt Hepsy looked slightly amazed. "Dear me, boy, I am thankful to +see ye home again; ye've gev Lucy a fever almost. See an' don't do it +again, that's all." And that was all Tom ever heard about the +afternoon's explosion. + + + +VII. + +THE RED HOUSE. + +Judge Keane's place was a mile out of Pendlepoint. It was in the +opposite direction from Thankful Rest, and stood within its own +extensive grounds, at the base of the Peak. The house was built a +little way up the slope, and commanded a magnificent view of the +great plain and the river, whose silver thread was visible long after +all other objects receded from view. You have made the acquaintance +of the judge already; let us accompany Mr. Goldthwaite and his sister +to the Red House on a mild October evening, and make friends with the +rest of the family. When the minister and his sister were ushered +into Mrs. Keane's drawing-room, its only occupants were that lady and +her two daughters, Alice and Minnie. The former was a tall, stately +young lady, like her father, stiff and reserved to strangers, but +much liked by her friends, among whom Carrie Goldthwaite was the +chief. Minnie Keane was a bright-eyed, curly-haired maiden of +fifteen, wild as an antelope, and as full of fun and frolic as any +one of her pet kittens. Their mother was an invalid, seldom able to +leave her couch;--not a fretful invalid, you must understand, but a +sweet, gentle, unselfish woman, who bore her pain and weakness +without a murmur, so that those she loved might be spared pain on her +account. Mr. Goldthwaite often said that Mrs. Keane's life was the +best sermon he had ever come across; and I think he was right. The +brother and sister received a warm welcome. Miss Keane and Carrie +withdrew to the wide window for a private chat, while Mr. Goldthwaite +remained by Mrs. Keane's sofa. He was an especial favourite of hers. +Minnie disappeared, and ere long Judge Keane and his second son, +George, appeared in the drawing-room. It is not necessary for me to +describe Mr. George Keane, except to say that he was his father's +right hand, and the greatest comfort of his mother's life; and that +is saying a great deal, isn't it? When he came in Alice found +something to do at her mother's couch, and her seat in the window did +not long remain unoccupied. There was quite a hum of conversation in +the room, and then when candles were brought in, and the curtains +drawn, Miss Keane said with a smile,-- + +"We have not had our pilgrimage up the Peak this fall. If we don't +have it soon it will be too late." + +"Frank and I were talking of it yesterday," said Carrie Goldthwaite. +"The days are so pleasant, why not have it this week or beginning of +next?" + +"Well," said Judge Keane, "settle the day when you are at it; I was +beginning to think our annual excursion was to be forgotten this +fall." + +"This is Thursday, and to-morrow is my class day at Pendlepoint," +said Miss Keane. "Saturday won't suit you, Mr. Goldthwaite?" + +"Monday would be better," admitted Frank. + +"Then Monday be it," said the judge. "We will start at twelve, and +luncheon at the summit at one." + +"And, O papa, mayn't the big waggon go?" pleaded Minnie. "I want to +take Mopsy and Ted and Silver Tail." + +"And all the live stock on the place, little one," laughed her +father. "What do you say, Mr. Goldthwaite? Minnie thinks the kittens +would enjoy the view immensely." + +"The suggestion about the big waggon is opportune," said Mr. George +Keane. "Last year some of the ladies would not have objected to a +seat in it before we reached the top." + +"Some of the gentlemen, too," said Alice Keane with a sly smile. "I +propose the big waggon for faint-hearted climbers, and the little one +for rugs and provisions." + +"I am going to make a petition, Judge Keane," said Carrie +Goldthwaite. "I have two little friends who would enjoy the excursion +as much as any of us, and they have not much enjoyment in their +lives. I mean those orphan children at Thankful Rest. Will you let +them come?" + +"With all my heart; no need to ask, my dear," said the judge +heartily; "and we will do our best to make them enjoy themselves." + +"Thank you, Judge Keane," said Carrie, and her face wore the +expression the old man liked particularly to see there. + +"I see them in church regularly," said Miss Keane. "The girl is a +remarkably pretty child. Robert was quite charmed with her face when +he was here a fortnight ago. I believe he was thinking what a study +she was for a picture instead of listening to you, Mr. Goldthwaite." + +"I scarcely think it, Miss Keane," answered Frank smiling. "At least +he took me to task severely afterwards about a remark in my sermon +which he did not approve." + +"Orphans, did you say, Carrie?" asked Mrs. Keane gently. "Was their +mother Deacon Strong's youngest daughter Hetty?" + +"The same, Mrs. Keane," answered Carrie. "And she must have been very +different from her brother and sister, for the children have been +evidently trained by a refined and cultured mind. Lucy is a perfect +lady, child though she is." + +"I feel very much interested," said Mrs. Keane. + +"I knew their mother slightly, and liked her much. Could you not +bring the children to see me some day?" + +"I shall try, Mrs. Keane; but it is not an easy task begging a +favour from Miss Hepsy, and she seems determined to keep them at +home. I have to take Lucy by main force when I want her at the +parsonage." + +"I hope they'll come, anyway," put in Minnie, "because I never have +anybody to speak to. One grows tired, even of the Peak, when there's +nobody but grown-up people to go on to. That's why I want Mopsy and +Ted and Silver Tail. It wouldn't be so lonesome. But they can stay at +home if Lucy comes." + +"Poor Minnie," said her father, laughing with the rest at the child's +aggrieved tone. "We must do all we can to persuade them, then, to +spare you the necessity of frightening the cats out of their wits." + +"I'll go up to Thankful Rest to-morrow and extract permission from +Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, "though I am not very hopeful of the +result.--Come, Frank, we must be off; it is nearly eight." + +"You will let us know on Sunday, then, if they can come," said Miss +Keane; and with cordial good-nights the friends parted. + +Early next afternoon Miss Goldthwaite walked up to Thankful Rest on +her mission to Miss Hepsy. That lady was making preserves, for which +Lucy had been kept since early morning paring and coring apples and +stoning plums. As Miss Goldthwaite passed the kitchen window, she +caught a glimpse of a slight figure almost lost in a huge apron, and +a very white, weary-looking face bent over the basket of fruit. Aunt +Hepsy was grimly stirring a panful of plums over the stove, and did +not look particularly overjoyed to see Miss Goldthwaite; but Lucy +did. + +"Always busy, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie briskly, not choosing to mind +the snappy greeting she received. "I declare I always feel a lazy, +good-for-nothing creature when I come to Thankful Rest.--Here, Lucy +child, sit down and let me do your work while I am here; you look +tired." + +The quiet eyes raised themselves in loving gratitude to the sweet +face, and she was not slow to avail herself of the chance of a +moment's rest. Miss Hepsy sniffed, but made no audible demur. + +"What splendid fruit, Miss Hepsy!" said the visitor after a moment's +silence; "I have seen none like it in Pendlepoint this fall." + +"It's well enough," said Miss Hepsy, a little mollified. "Your folks +all well, Miss Goldthwaite?" + +"Thank you, yes; and papa and mamma are coming from New York next +week, if the weather keeps fine. I can hardly sleep or eat for joy, +Miss Hepsy; and Frank is almost as bad." + +"You be like children about your father and mother yet," said Miss +Hepsy brusquely. "I reckon you'd better not marry in Pendlepoint, or +there'll be an end to your goin' home any more." + +Carrie laughed. + +"I don't see why it should come to an end then, Miss Hepsy," she +said. "Even married people get a holiday sometimes." + +"I guess they don't see many o' them," replied Miss Hepsy. "I think +you're a fool to marry, anyway, Miss Goldthwaite, when the parson +thinks such a heap of you." + +Carrie laughed again, more amused than ever. + +"Talking of holidays, Miss Hepsy," she said, "I want you to give this +patient little maiden one, and Tom too." + +"Not if I know it," answered Miss Hepsy promptly. + +"Oh yes you will," said Miss Goldthwaite serenely. "We are to have a +picnic up the Peak on Monday, in Judge Keane's waggon. I've set my +heart on Lucy and Tom, and half a day is nothing." + +"It makes 'em idle and restless for days, Miss Goldthwaite," said +Aunt Hepsy, with grim decision, "an' I ain't a-goin' to have it, so +let it a be." + +Miss Goldthwaite held her peace a moment, and then went straight up +to Aunt Hepsy, and, to Lucy's amazement, laid her two hands on her +shoulders and looked into her face with laughing eyes. "Do you know +you are the most disagreeable woman in the township, Miss Hepsy, and +that there isn't another would be so cross with me as you are? I'll +come up and pare apples for two whole days if you'll let me have Lucy +and Tom. Look me in the face and refuse me if you dare." + +Miss Hepsy actually smiled. "I never saw sech a cretur," she said. +"Ye'd move the very Peak wi' them eyes o' your'n. I'm real sorry for +Mr. George Keane, anyway. Well, have yer own way, and go off home. +You're only hinderin' my work, and I hain't a minute to lose." + +"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, with a very eloquent glance of +her irresistible eyes.--"Now, Lucy," said she then, turning to the +child, "come down to the parsonage on Monday morning at eleven, you +and Tom, and we will go up to the Red House together. Good-bye, dear; +the fresh air up the Peak will brighten that white face, I hope. +Don't forget, now." + +"Forget! O Miss Carrie," was all she said, but her eyes were very dim +as she returned her kiss. Lucy had been feeling peculiarly sad and +down-hearted, and Miss Goldthwaite had come and brought with her the +sunshine which seemed to follow her everywhere. + +Then Carrie bade Miss Hepsy good-bye, and went away. Looking about +her as she went through the garden, she espied Tom painting waggon +wheels in the yard. A few steps took her to the boy's side, and he +looked up with a glad smile of surprise. + +"Busy too, Tom," she said pleasantly. "I don't think this place +should be called Thankful Rest. Nobody seems to take a rest here. How +do you like this work?" + +"Don't ask me, Miss Goldthwaite," said the lad. "You remember you +told me to make the best of it; but it isn't easy." + +"It will grow easy by-and-by," she said, and laid her hand a moment +on his arm, and her beautiful eyes grew grave and earnest. "Does my +soldier find his Captain able to help even in dark hours?" + +"Yes, Miss Goldthwaite." That was all, but it was said so simply and +earnestly that Carrie's heart grew glad. + +"We are to have a picnic up the Peak on Monday in Judge Keane's +waggon," said she after a moment. "Your aunt has promised to let you +and Lucy come. Will you like it?" + +"Like it! Up the Peak! O Miss Goldthwaite," said the boy, looking +away to the towering hill beyond, "I have wished I could go every day +since I came. How good you are to Lucy and me!" + +"She will tell you when to be ready. In the meantime I must go," said +Miss Goldthwaite with her pleasant smile. "Good-bye, and success to +the waggon-painting." + + + +VIII. + +UP THE PEAK. + +Tom and Lucy Hurst peered anxiously out of their chamber windows at +six o'clock on Monday morning to see a clear, calm, beautiful sky, +with a faint roseate flush in the east, where, by-and-by, the sun +would come up brilliantly. Aunt Hepsy was as cross as two sticks, and +Uncle Josh morose and taciturn; but even these things failed to damp +their spirits, and at a quarter to eleven they set off, a very happy +pair, across the meadow to the parsonage. Both looked well. Lucy's +mourning, though simple and inexpensive, was wonderfully becoming; +and some fine delicate lace, which had been her mother's, relieved +the sombre black dress nicely. Miss Goldthwaite was very proud of her +friends, and told them so when she greeted them. They were just in +time, and the four set off, Tom in front with Miss Goldthwaite, and +Lucy walking with the minister. She was shy and quiet, but somehow +nobody could be long afraid of Mr. Goldthwaite. He possessed his +sister's charm of manner, and drew Lucy on to talk in spite of +herself. At the Red House there was a great bustle. The big waggon +was at the front door, and the little one at the back, into which the +cook was stowing all sorts of eatables. Minnie Keane, in a state of +great excitement, was flying about with a tiny kitten in each arm, +the mother following at her heels mewing piteously for her children +to be left in safety. Minnie dropped the kittens when she saw the +party from the parsonage coming round the avenue, and ran to meet +them. Miss Goldthwaite made the introductions, and then she and Mr. +Goldthwaite passed into the house, leaving the children beside the +waggon. There was but a moment's shyness, and then the irrepressible +Minnie's tongue began to go freely. + +"You look nice, Lucy," she said frankly. "I guess we'll have a good +time to-day. There always is a good time when papa takes us +anywhere." + +"This is a nice horse," said Tom, feeling he must say something. +"What's his name?" + +"Oh, that's Billy. He's very old, and rather cross. You should see +papa's Beauty. Come to the stable and I'll show you her." + +She drew Lucy's arm within her own and darted off, Tom following. +Minnie was quite at home in the stable, and familiar with every +animal in it. Beauty pricked up her ears and whinnied at the touch of +Minnie's caressing fingers. + +"You ask Miss Goldthwaite about Beauty," she said. "She thinks there +isn't another horse like her in the world.--Don't you love horses, +Lucy?" + +"Yes; I love all animals," replied Lucy. "I saw some nice little +kittens round there." + +"Yes; I've three. We'd better go round now, I think; perhaps they'll +want to be going.--I'm glad it's a fine day; aren't you, Tom?" + +"I think I am. I looked out at six this morning to see if it was. +It'll be glorious up the Peak." + +As the three came round to the front door again, Miss Keane appeared +on the threshold. She looked very tall and stately and awe-inspiring +with her trailing dress and eye-glass. Yet her smile as she shook +hands with the children was so pleasant that Lucy forgot to be afraid +of her. + +"My mother would like to see you, Tom and Lucy," she said. "Will you +come upstairs? she is not able to leave the room, you know.--Minnie, +I wish you would look round for papa. It is just twelve; we should be +going." + +Minnie scampered off, and Tom and Lucy followed Miss Keane up the +broad staircase into the drawing-room, the beauty of which held them +spellbound for a few minutes. On a couch near the fire lay a lady, +with gray hair and a pale, thin, worn face, which wore such an +expression of peace and happiness that Lucy felt her heart go out to +her at once. Mr. and Miss Goldthwaite and George Keane were there +also. Mrs. Keane held out both her hands, and the two came shyly +forward--Tom blushing a little to be among so many strangers. + +"I am glad to see you, my dears," she said very heartily.--"Kiss me, +Lucy. I knew your mother, dear. You remind me of her very much." + +The ready tears sprang to Lucy's eyes. Kindness always moved her +thus, and she took a stool close to the couch, while Tom's eyes +wandered round the room, lingering hungrily on the exquisite +water-colours on the walls. It was long since he had had such an +opportunity. At Thankful Rest the art collection consisted of a few +family portraits, ludicrous alike in execution and in colouring. A +smile and a glance passed from Mr. Goldthwaite to his sister as they +noted how speedily the boy became absorbed. + +"These are my brother Robert's drawings," said Miss Keane, touching +his arm and beckoning him to come nearer. "You are fond of painting, +I think?" + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Tom, his face flushing a little. "And these +are so beautiful, I could not help looking at them." + +"If you will come up to the Red House some other day, I shall show +you all my brother's sketch-books and odd drawings," said Miss Keane. +"I am very fond of the work myself, and might perhaps be able to help +you a little, you know, and I think you would make a clever pupil; +what do you say?" + +The eyes behind the glasses beamed so kindly at him that Tom forgot +that his first impression of her had been unpleasant, and a warm +flush of gratitude answered her better than his words. They were few +and sad enough. + +"There is nothing I should like so much in the world, ma'am, and I +thank you very much; but I can't come--my uncle and aunt would not +let me." + +"I must see about that," said Miss Keane promptly; and at that moment +Judge Keane's stately figure appeared in the doorway. + +"Are you going to sit there all day, you young folk?" he called out +hastily.--"Oh, here you are, little ones;--glad to see you, my lad;" +and he gave Tom's hand a warm grasp, and touched Lucy's white face +with his forefinger. + +"Want some roses there, doesn't she, wife?" he said. "There'll be a +glorious air up the Peak to-day, it will bring them there, if +anything will." + +"I wish you could have come, dear Mrs. Keane," whispered Carrie as +she bent a moment over the couch before they passed out; "you used to +be the very sunshine of us all." + +"I think of you, dear, and am happy in my own way at home," she +replied with her sweet smile; "take care of yourself and of this pale +little maiden.--Lucy dear, good-bye. Come and see me again." + +"Indeed I will, if I can, ma'am," replied Lucy earnestly; and then +they all went away. Minnie was already in the big waggon waiting +impatiently for the start. + +"You will go inside too, little one, I suppose," said the judge to +Lucy; and with one swing of his strong arms he placed her beside +Minnie. "The rest of us will walk a piece, I fancy. As this is +supposed to be a climbing expedition, we must make some show, at +least, to begin with." + +There was a general laugh, and Tom and Lucy thought there could not +be so pleasant an old gentleman as Judge Keane anywhere. + +Miss Keane elected Tom for her cavalier, and made him feel very +important indeed, by treating him as if he were quite a man; and they +got into a very interesting talk about the great painters and their +work. She was astonished to find what a thorough knowledge the boy +had of the subject, and how well he could talk on what interested him +most. + +"Robert must see this young artist," was her mental comment. The +judge followed behind with Mr. Goldthwaite; while Mr. George Keane +and Miss Goldthwaite brought up the rear, walking very slowly, and +talking very earnestly. Nobody took any notice of them whatever, +evidently being of opinion that they were quite capable of amusing +each other. The waggon-path, winding gradually up the mountain side, +was rough and stony, and even Billy's cautious feet stumbled +sometimes; and the two girls were jolted so that they laughed till +they cried. + +"I think we'd better get out; don't you, Lucy?" cried Minnie at last, +"else there'll be none of us left to see the top of the Peak. I never +was so sore in my life. Isn't it fun though?" + +"Yes; and the sun is so bright, and everybody so kind, and everything +so pleasant, I don't know what to do," said Lucy with softening eyes. +Minnie looked at her curiously. + +"I say, don't you have any good times at your home, Lucy?" she asked +soberly. + +"Sometimes--not very often," answered Lucy reluctantly. + +"I don't think your aunt is a very nice woman anyway," said Minnie +with her usual candour. "She looked at me so one day in church, +'cause I laughed right out at a funny little dog with a stumpy tail +running in and right up to Mr. Goldthwaite. Wouldn't you have laughed +too?" + +"I don't know," said Lucy; "if it was very funny, I daresay I would." + +"How pretty you are," said Minnie after a while; "my sister Alice +says so--I guess she knows." Lucy blushed, not being accustomed to +such plain speaking. "I think Miss Goldthwaite perfectly elegant," +went on the young critic. "She is going to marry my brother George, +do you know?" + +"Is she?" asked Lucy, much interested. + +"Yes; and papa and mamma are crazed about her. Everybody is. Isn't +she just splendid?" + +"There is nobody like her," answered Lucy. Minnie could never know +what she had been and was to her. + +"Lovers are stupid, don't you think?" asked Minnie again. "They +always go away by themselves, and things; you just watch George and +Carrie to-day. It is a great trial to me." + +"What is?" asked Mr. George Keane, pausing at the side of the waggon. +Minnie laughed outright, so did Lucy. + +"It's a secret," replied she in a very dignified way.--"O Miss +Goldthwaite, are you coming into the waggon?" + +"Yes;--will you make room for me, Lucy?" + +Lucy moved further up the cushion, and Mr. George Keane assisted Miss +Goldthwaite to her place. + +"O Carrie, succumbed already!" cried Miss Keane. + +"Won't you come in too?" replied Carrie. + +"No, thank you; I mean to climb to the top. Somebody must sustain the +credit of our sex." + +"I know it's safe in your hands, Alice," said Carrie serenely.--"Lucy +dear, you look happy. Do you enjoy it?" + +The sparkle in Lucy's eyes answered her better than any words. + +The road was becoming rougher and steeper, and Billy's progress +slower and slower, and the summit of the Peak drawing nearer and +nearer. Miss Keane and Tom had got ahead of the waggon, and were the +first to reach the top. At last Billy, with a great pull, brought the +waggon to the level ground, and then stood still. They all alighted, +and, forming a little circle, stood drinking in the beauty of the +scene. Wondering how Tom would be affected, Miss Keane turned to +speak to him, but he had gone; and looking round, she saw him +standing by a huge boulder, but his face was turned away, and +understanding why he felt it best to be alone for a few minutes, she +did not venture to disturb him. It was a panorama of wonderful +beauty. They seemed to stand up among the clouds, the air was so pure +and cool and bracing. Far beneath, the houses of the town looked like +a tiny ant-nest, enveloped in a filmy haze. The great plain stretched +around for miles and miles, dotted here and there by many a pretty +homestead, and intersected by the winding river, glinting and +glistening in the sun as it hurried on and on to join the far-off +sea. Far across the plain the smoke of distant cities obscured the +horizon, but none of the noise or bustle was borne on the breeze to +this lonely mountain peak. A great silence fell upon the little +company, and some bright eyes grew dim as they looked upon the beauty +of the world the great Creator had made. + +"Just say a few words of prayer, Frank," said the judge at length, in +a soft voice; "it will do us all good, I think." Mr. Goldthwaite took +off his hat reverently. + +"Our Father, we thank thee for this day. We thank thee for sparing us +all to come here again; and for the sunshine, and the beauty, and the +gladness of the earth. Help us more and more to feel the power and +majesty of thy hand, and the great love of thy infinite heart. Be +with every one of us to-day, blessing us as only thou canst bless, +and help us to live to thy glory; for Jesus' sake. Amen." + +"Amen," repeated Judge Keane. "Now we can begin the day with a better +heart than ever." + + + +IX. + +A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED. + +It was great fun unpacking the baskets, and Tom made himself very +useful to the ladies; so much so, that Miss Goldthwaite felt +constrained to whisper one word of praise in his ear, which sent a +glow to his heart. Surely never was meal so enjoyed as that lunch on +the summit of Pendle Peak; and they lingered so long over it, that +Judge Keane passed a great many jokes on the gigantic appetites, and +professed great concern about the small quantity of provisions left +for tea. When plates and forks and knives were stowed in the waggon +again, the party broke up in twos and threes, and went off exploring. +Lucy was tired, and said she would remain beside the goods and +chattels, whereupon the judge declared he would keep her company. Mr. +George and Miss Goldthwaite went off together to search for ferns, +they said; while Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom went to +the ravine on the other side of the Peak to find some rare specimens +of wild flowers Miss Keane was anxious to secure for her collection. +The judge was to whistle at four o'clock, if they had not then +returned; and promised to have tea ready, which was considered a +great joke. Lucy sat on the smooth green turf, leaning against a +boulder, feasting her eyes on the beauty, of which she thought her +eyes could never tire. The judge lay on the grass with half-closed +eyes, looking at the girl's sweet face, wondering why it looked older +and sadder and more womanly than it ought. It was a good while before +either spoke. + +"Would you mind telling me, Judge Keane, please," said Lucy timidly, +"where Newhaven lies from here, and how far it is?" + +The judge raised himself on his elbow, put on his gold eye-glass, and +looked along the plain. "There, straight as the crow flies, little +one," he said, pointing west. "It is about thirty miles in a direct +line from where we sit; by rail about fifty, I think." + +"It is a long way," she said, and a little sigh followed, as if she +wished it nearer. + +"You lived in Newhaven, I think, didn't you?" asked the judge. + +"Yes, sir, till mamma died. It is not a nice place, but I love it +dearly." + +Ay, for a quiet grave there held the loved father and mother who had +once made for her a happy home. + +The judge did not speak, he did not know what to say just then, and +Lucy did not seem to expect an answer. He shut his eyes again, and +there was a long silence. Thinking he slept, Lucy rose, and, gently +laying a rug over him, slipped away. He opened his eyes directly and +watched her. She only moved a few yards from him, and knelt down with +her face to the west. He heard a few faltering words, followed by a +sob--"O dear papa and mamma, I wonder if you can see Tom and me +to-day, and know how happy we are. God bless the dear friends who +have made us so, for Christ's sake. Amen." + +The judge's lips twitched beneath his mustache, and when Lucy rose +again, he drew the rug up over his face, not wishing her to see that +he had heard that little prayer. But he never forgot it. Two hours +did not take long to slip away, and then the judge sat up and looked +at Lucy with a comical smile. + +"It is ten minutes to four, little one, and there isn't a sign of the +wanderers. Suppose you and I make tea: do you think we could manage +it between us?" + +"Oh yes, sir; I know how to build a fire, and make tea too, and there +are sticks in the waggon. May I try?" + +"Of course, and I'll help to the best of my limited ability." + +Lucy went to the waggon and got out sticks and the kettle, while the +judge made an amateur stove between four stones. Lucy then laid the +fire, and in a minute there was quite a cheerful little blaze. Water +was the next thing, and the judge remembered there used to be a tiny +spring a few yards down the slope, which was found without any +difficulty; and he brought back the kettle filled, and placed it on +the fire. He had so many odd remarks to make about his new +occupation, that Lucy was kept laughing pretty nearly all the time. +It was getting on for five o'clock before four heads appeared at the +edge of the slope. Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom +arrived laden with flowers and ferns, and reported themselves +exhausted, and thankful to see that tea was ready. George and Carrie +had not been seen since they departed at two o'clock." + +"You made tea all by yourself, Lucy," said Miss Keane, laying her +kind hand on Lucy's sunny head. "Clever little maiden, how are we to +thank you?" + +"Judge Keane helped me, Miss Alice," replied Lucy blushing and +smiling. + +"Helped! I should think I did," said the judge tragically: "she sat +on the waggon like a queen, and commanded me like a slave. She looks +meek and mild enough, but don't trust her." + +"Papa, how much nonsense do you talk in a day?" she said. "I wish the +other two would turn up; I'm famished." + +"Are we to wait on them, papa?" inquired Minnie piteously. "I guess +they don't want any tea: lovers never want anything to eat. Mayn't +we have it now?" + +"Yes," said Miss Keane.--"Lucy dear, may I trouble you for the +teapot.--Papa, hand the sugar, and make yourself useful." + +"What a real nice boy your brother Tom is," said Minnie Keane, +dropping down by Lucy's side. "We had a splendid time down there, +while Alice and Mr. Goldthwaite talked out of books. Aren't you very +fond of him?" + +"Of Tom? Of course I am," answered Lucy; "you know I have nobody but +him, and he has nobody but me." + +"Lucy, your tea is delightful," said Mr. Goldthwaite from the other +side of the table-cloth. "I don't know when I enjoyed anything so +well." + +"Hunger is good sauce," said the judge;--"here are the truants." Mr. +George Keane and Miss Goldthwaite appeared now, apparently very much +astonished to find themselves behind time. The judge made room for +Carrie beside himself, and after looking blankly at her for a few +minutes, said solemnly, "I thought I heard you say you wanted ferns; +but I must have been mistaken, or possibly they haven't come up in +the glen this year.--Some tea here, Alice.--Miss Goldthwaite, may I +help you to a piece of cake?" The truants joined in the laugh against +themselves, and the rest of the meal was passed in a perfect babel of +talking. + +"What shall we do now, papa?" said Alice when they had finished. "We +won't be going home for a little while." + +The judge looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes past five: we shall +start at six. Well, I propose that each member of the company +composes, within the space of ten minutes, four lines of verse +descriptive of the scenery. I have brought pencils and paper; and the +best writer shall have my gold pencil-case to him or her self." + +There was a general exclamation, and each one declared it impossible +to perform such a feat. + +"Try," said the judge briefly; and he passed round the pencils and +the sheets of paper. Then he laid his watch on the cloth, and gave +the signal. You would have laughed at the utter stillness then, and +at the perplexity on each face. Slowly the hands moved round, till +the ten minutes were up, and the judge cried halt. + +"You read then, judge," said Mr. Goldthwaite; "begin with your own." + +"Well, here I am," said the judge with a very comical smile, and he +read slowly and distinctly:-- + + "It seems to me that if you go + Enjoyment for to seek, + You'll find out all you want and more + Up here on Pendle Peak." + +A shout of laughter greeted this effusion, and the judge pretended to +be highly offended. + +"I object to the 'for' in the second line," said Mr. Goldthwaite. + +"Do you think I don't know it has no business there?" said the judge. +"But I couldn't get it to rhyme, so I was obliged to put in +something. It is not bad for an old fellow who never made two lines +rhyme before in his life. Come then, Frank, pass up yours." + + "To read a page from Nature's book, + In this deep solitude, + Uplifts the heart in purer aims, + And leads us nearer God." + +"True, Frank," said the judge solemnly. "You have beaten me hollow +anyway.--Now, Carrie." + +"Mine is very poor indeed, Judge Keane," said Carrie, as she passed +up her slip. "Like yours it is my first attempt." + + "The beauty of the hills, + So calm, so free, so bright, + Can dim my eyes with tears, + And fill me with delight." + +"Very good" was the verdict; and then Miss Keane reluctantly gave up +her paper. + + "How still it is! No rude discord + Falls on the ear; + We feel all earthly thoughts and aims + Must vanish here." + +That also was pronounced "very good," and Judge Keane feared he +should have some difficulty in adjudicating the prize. Mr. George +Keane's was the next. + + "I never wrote a poem, but since + You will not be refused, + I do declare I don't know how, + And beg to be excused." + +"You have no chance anyway, George," said his father, laughing with +the rest. "It has not the remotest reference to the subject in +hand.--Well, Lucy." + +"Mine last, please," pleaded Lucy. + +So the judge took the paper from Minnie's hand and read,-- + + "Papa, you know I can't make verse, + And it was very bad + Of you to make us play at this,-- + I tell you I'm real mad." + +There was another shout at Minnie's performance, and then Lucy +timidly slipped her paper into the judge's hand, and drew back behind +Minnie. The judge read very slowly this time, and every beautiful +word was distinctly heard. + + "The calm, still brightness on the hills, + The beauty on the plain, + Fill all my heart with strange sweet joy, + That is akin to pain. + + "We stand upon a stepping-stone + Up to the Better Land; + I seem to see the glory there, + And feel my Father's hand. + + "And hovering near me seem to be + The loved ones gone before; + One day we'll mount God's stepping-stones, + And weep earth's tears no more." + +There was a moment's surprised silence. All eyes were turned to Lucy, +who shrank further back with a very distressed face. + +"The prize is yours, Lucy," said Judge Keane at length.--"Who would +have thought this shy little maiden was the poet of the company?" + +There were many other remarks made, which seemed to distress Lucy so +much that they held their peace at length, and the judge remembered +Tom's contribution had not been called for. + +"You thought you were to escape, young man," said he, as he received +the paper from Tom's reluctant hand. "Perhaps the last may be best +yet, who knows? Well, I never--ha! ha!" + +He held up the paper, and lo, a sketch of the circle of anxious +faces, with paper and pencil before them, and every expression true +to the life. It was wonderfully well done, and created much amusement +as it was handed round the company. + +"The pencil-case is Lucy's," said the judge. "But I think you deserve +a special prize, my lad. Will you let me keep this? Robert must see +it." + +"Yes, sir, of course," answered Tom. "When I felt a pencil in my hand +I had to draw. I always feel so." + +"True artist; eh, Carrie?" whispered the judge, and she nodded +assent. She had not yet recovered from the surprise Lucy had given +her. + +"The sun is thinking of setting," said the judge then. "We must be +preparing to depart." + +There was a general move, and Miss Keane and Miss Goldthwaite +proceeded to clear the table. + +"Let us sit here and see the sun set, and have a talk, Lucy," said +Minnie, drawing Lucy a little apart. "What a perfectly elegant poem +that was you wrote. It's 'most as good as Whittier's George reads to +mamma sometimes. I guess you'll grow up to be a Mrs. Whittier." + +"Oh no," said Lucy, laughing a little; "Miss Keane's was just as +good, I think, only I wrote more. How funny yours was." + +"I should think so. Mopsy, or Ted, or Silver Tail could do just as +well, I believe.--Tom, won't you draw me a picture of my very own to +keep? I wish you'd come up and do the kittens; won't you? I ask +Robert every time he comes, but he just teases me." + +"I'll draw a kitten for you if you like," answered Tom readily, "but +I can't promise to come up and do it." + +Before very long Billy was harnessed again, and after bidding a +reluctant good-bye to the Peak for another year, the descent was +begun. Lucy walked part of the way with Mr. George Keane's arm to +help her along, and Miss Goldthwaite beckoned Tom to her side. + +"I haven't seen much of you to-day, Tom," she said pleasantly. "Have +you had a nice day?" + +"I shall never forget it, Miss Goldthwaite," answered Tom very +gravely. + +And though after years brought many happy excursions up the Peak, +never was one so exquisitely enjoyed as this had been. The sun had +dropped behind the hill when the tired party reached the Red House, +and a big moon was coming up serenely in the opal sky. Mr. and Miss +Goldthwaite paused at the avenue gate, saying they would not come any +further; so the good-nights were said there and the company +separated. + +"Good-night, my little poetess," whispered the judge as he lifted +Lucy from the waggon. "Go on writing, my dear; we will hear of you +yet." And he kissed her as he set her to the ground, and added +softly, "You have done an old man good to-day though you did not know +it." + +It was a very quiet walk home by the river-side to the parsonage, but +the thoughts were all pleasant ones. Mr. Goldthwaite had not spoken +much to Lucy all day, but he had watched her, how closely she did not +know. He held her hand at parting, and looked straight into her +beautiful eyes, his own very grave and earnest. + +"God bless you, Lucy; good-night." She wondered a little at the +oddness of his manner. "My soldier has shown to advantage to-day," +said Miss Carrie, smiling as she shook hands with Tom. "I have been +very proud of him." + +"Lucy," said Tom, as they turned into the paddock at Thankful Rest, +"do you know what I'm going to do when I'm a man?" + +"Be a great painter," answered Lucy promptly. "What else?" + +"Anything else?" inquired she in much surprise. + +"I'm going to marry Miss Goldthwaite!" + +Lucy laughed outright. + +"You can't, Tom; she's going to marry Mr. George Keane, Minnie told +me." + +"Is she? Well, Mr. George Keane is a very good fellow," said Tom in a +tone which would have infinitely amused that gentleman had he heard +it; "but he isn't half good enough for her.--O Lucy, hasn't this been +a day?" + +"Yes," answered Lucy, and she turned full eyes up to the quiet sky. +"I think papa and mamma must see us, and be glad we have been happy." + +"I feel so too," answered Tom with the sudden beautiful earnestness +which had often come to him of late.--"Kiss me, Lucy; there are only +you and I." + +She put her arm about his neck, and kissed him as he wished; then the +two went very soberly into the house. + + + +X. + +ON THE LAKE. + +On the first morning of November the summit of the Peak was draped in +white, and a slight sprinkling of snow sparkled on the plain. Frost +was hard enough to freeze the duck-pond and the horse-trough. Winter +had begun. It was very cold; Lucy shivered over her dressing every +morning in her little attic chamber, and had just to work to get +warm, as Aunt Hepsy permitted no sitting over the stove. Tom had to +turn out of doors at six every morning, and feed a score of cattle +before breakfast, and woe betide him if the work was not done up to +Uncle Josh's mark. Uncle Josh had a vocabulary of his own, from which +he selected many an epithet to bestow on Tom! Sometimes yet the quick +temper would fly up, and there would be a war of words; but the lad's +strong striving was beginning to bear its fruit, and he found it +daily easier to keep hold of the bridle, as Miss Goldthwaite termed +it. Keziah had been dismissed also, and Lucy's burden was sometimes +more than she could bear. Miss Hepsy refused to see what others +saw--that the girl was overwrought; and her feelings had been blunted +so long, that only a very sharp shock would bring them into use +again. And the time had not come yet. For more highly favoured young +folks than Tom and Lucy Hurst, these frosty days brought innumerable +enjoyments in their train--skating and sleighing by daylight and +moonlight, evening parties, and all sorts of frolics. There were gay +times at the Red House, especially when in Christmas week Mr. Robert +Keane came home, bringing with him two school-boy cousins from +Philadelphia. Miss Alice Keane called at Thankful Rest on her pony, +one morning, to ask Tom and Lucy to a Christmas-eve gathering. The +invitation was curtly declined by Miss Hepsy, and she was dismissed +with such scant courtesy that she departed very indignant indeed. + +"What a woman that is at Thankful Rest," she said to Miss Goldthwaite +when she called at the parsonage. "I almost forgot myself, Carrie, +and nearly gave her a few rude words. I am truly sorry for those poor +children." + +"Well you may be," answered Carrie with a sigh, knowing better than +Alice what their life was. + +Only one half-holiday was vouchsafed to them at Miss Goldthwaite's +earnest entreaty, and they took tea at the parsonage, after which the +party went up to the Red House pond to see the skating there. They +were very warmly welcomed--Minnie, especially, being quite overjoyed +to see Lucy again. + +"Do you skate, Tom?" asked Miss Keane, coming up breathless after a +long run down the lake. + +"Yes, Miss Keane. But I have no skates; they were left at home--in +Newhaven, I mean." + +"Here, Minnie, my pet, run to the house and bring out a couple of +pairs. You will find them in George's room, I think; and tell Robert +_I_ want him on the lake." + +Minnie ran off obediently. Pretty soon Mr. George Keane and the two +cousins appeared round the bend, and Miss Keane introduced the latter +to Tom. They did not take long to become acquainted, and were soon +talking quite familiarly. They stood waiting till Minnie returned, +her brother with her, carrying the skates. He was a tall, slight +young man, rather like Miss Keane; and his face looked a trifle stern +at first, as hers did, but that wore off when you got to know him. + +"This is Tom Hurst I told you of, Robert," said Miss Keane; and Tom +shook hands with him reverentially, remembering he was the great +painter all America was talking of. + +"I'm glad to see you," said Mr. Robert Keane frankly. "Let us get on +our skates, and you and I shall take a run together. I haven't been +on the ice this season." + +Tom sat down and quickly put on his skates, and the pair set off, +keeping close together. Miss Keane turned to Mr. Goldthwaite with a +smile. "Robert is interested already. I want him to do something for +Tom, and I think he will." + +"He will not regret it," answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "They are all off +now but we two, Miss Keane; come, we must not be behind." + +"My sister tells me you would like to be a painter, Tom," said Mr. +Robert Keane, when they had gone a hundred yards in silence. + +"Yes, sir," answered Tom, wishing to say a great deal more, but +unable to utter more than two words. + +"What would you say to go back to Philadelphia, and let me look after +your training?" + +"O Mr. Keane!" Tom stood still on the ice and lifted incredulous eyes +to his companion's face. There was a smile there, but the eyes were +sincere enough. + +"I see you would like it. Don't stand; we can talk while we go. Well, +my boy, there is a great deal of hard work, patient plodding, +uninteresting study to be gone through, and as many failures and +tumbles as days in the year, before you reach even the first step of +the ladder. Do you think you could go through it?" + +"I would go through anything, Mr. Keane, and toil for twenty years, +if need be, only to be allowed to work at it. Do you know, it is life +to me even to think of it." + +Robert Keane glanced curiously at the lad. His face was kindling with +emotion, and his eyes shone like stars. + +"All right, my boy; you're the right stuff, I see. Leave it with me; +I'll fix it right enough. And you'll go to Philadelphia as sure as my +name's Keane. No need to thank me. Let your future success be my +reward, if I need any. Let us try a race back; you're a splendid +skater." + +They turned, and sped along the ice at lightning speed, and Tom came +in a dozen yards in front at the farther side. + +"Ahead of me," laughed Mr. Keane. "Is that an omen of the future, +Tom?" + +Miss Goldthwaite noted the boy's flushed, happy face and bright eyes, +and concluded Mr. Robert Keane must have wrought the change. She +turned to remark upon it to Alice, when a hand touched her arm, and +Tom's voice said eagerly, "Will you skate with me, Miss Goldthwaite? +I want to speak to you." She nodded smilingly and gave him her hand. + +"O Miss Goldthwaite," said Tom in a great burst of happiness, "Mr. +Robert Keane says he will take me to Philadelphia with him, and help +me to be a painter." + +"I guessed he would," said Carrie. "I am very glad of it, Tom. Do you +remember what I said about this joy coming in God's good time?" + +"I have not forgotten, Miss Goldthwaite." + +She stopped on the ice, and laid her slim hand a moment on his +shoulder. "My soldier will remember his Captain still, I hope, in +those happier days, and work for Him with double energy because they +are happier." + +The moonlight showed trembling drops in the boy's earnest eyes as he +answered reverently--"I will never forget how good He has been to me, +Miss Goldthwaite, when I so little deserved it." + +"That is right, my boy; I am not afraid of you," she said heartily. +"Here we are round the bend. How lovely that moonlight shines through +these gloomy pines. Let us go right to the end before we turn." + +They set off again along the smooth sheet of ice, and as they neared +the farther end of the lake Miss Goldthwaite turned aside to explore +an opening between the trees. A moment more and Tom heard a crash, +followed by a faint scream. He looked round, to see the edge of Miss +Goldthwaite's fur cloak disappearing through a huge fissure in the +ice! He had presence of mind to utter one wild, despairing cry, which +re-echoed far off in the lonely pine wood, and then he plunged after +her and caught her dress. Superhuman strength seemed to come to him +in that moment of desperate peril, and he managed to keep, hold of +her with one hand, and with the other cling to the broken edge of +ice. It seemed hours before the ring of skates and the sound of +voices announced help at hand, and his numbed fingers relaxed their +hold of the ice just as Robert Keane and his brother's strong arms +bent down to rescue them. He still had hold of Miss Goldthwaite, and +two minutes sufficed to extricate them both. They were unconscious, +and Carrie's sweet face was so deathly white that a mighty fear took +hold of all present. Alice Keane knelt down and laid her hand to her +heart. "Thank God," she uttered tremulously, and it was fervently +re-echoed by every lip. They were borne to the Red House with great +speed, and restoratives being applied, both rallied in a very short +time. Miss Goldthwaite's first question was for Tom, as his had been +for her; and she whispered to them faintly that he had saved her life +at the risk of his own. When Tom looked round, after a while, it was +to find the judge and Mr. George Keane standing by his bed. + +"God bless you, my lad," said the old man huskily. "You have saved +our pretty flower. All Pendlepoint will thank you for this." + +And Mr. George bent over him, his honest gray eyes dim with tears. "I +owe my wife's life to you, Tom, my boy. As long as I live I shall +never forget this." + +A message was despatched to Thankful Rest reporting the accident, and +saying the children would remain till next day, at least, at the Red +House. Mr. Goldthwaite also remained. His words of thanks to Tom were +few: he was too deeply moved to speak, but Tom was quick to +understand. Next morning Miss Goldthwaite was able to appear at the +breakfast table, looking a little paler than usual, but apparently +not much the worse of her ducking. Dr. Gair forbade Tom to get up +till noon, so Carrie herself took up his breakfast-tray. He looked +surprised and greatly relieved to see her, and tried to make light of +what he had done. + +"It is nothing," he said. "I would gladly do fifty times more for +you." + +"We are bound more closely together now," she said. "I owe my life to +you." And bending over him she kissed him, and slipped away, leaving +him very happy indeed. + +In the evening he came down to the drawing-room, where he was treated +as a hero. Everybody made so much of him that he began to feel +uncomfortable, and took refuge at last with Mr. Robert Keane, who +good-naturedly showed him the sketch-book he had filled in Europe, +and explained everything to him, as if he found pleasure in it. And +he did find pleasure, for Tom was an enthusiastic listener. + +No inquiry had come from Thankful Rest, which had astonished Mrs. +Keane very much. She thought they would be sure to feel anxious about +Tom's recovery. She did not know Joshua Strong and his sister. The +following morning Dr. Gair said Tom might go home as soon as he +liked; so Miss Alice drove him and Lucy to Thankful Rest in the +course of the forenoon. Miss Hepsy was plucking chickens for the +market, and tossed up her head when her nephew and niece appeared +before her. + +"I wonder you'd come back at all after livin' so long among gentle +folk. It'll be a long time, I reckon, afore ye get the chance to jump +through the ice after Miss Goldthwaite or any other miss.--Here, +Lucy, get off yer hat, and lend a hand wi' them chickens.--You'll +find plenty wood in the shed, boy, waitin' to be chopped, if yer +uncle hain't anything else for ye to do. Off ye go." + +The contrast between the happy circle they had left and their own +home was so painful that Lucy's tears fell fast as she went to do her +aunt's bidding. And Tom departed to the wood-shed with a very +downcast and rebellious heart. + + + +XI. + +HOPES FULFILLED. + +On the afternoon of the following day Mr. Goldthwaite came to +Thankful Rest, accompanied by Mr. Robert Keane. Lucy opened the door +to them; and seeing a stranger with the parson, her aunt shouted to +her to show them into the sitting-room. It was a chill and gloomy +place, though painfully clean and tidy--utterly destitute of comfort. +Lucy shut the door upon them, and went back to tell her aunt that the +stranger was Mr. Robert Keane. + +"What's their business here, I'd like to know?" she said as she +whisked off her white apron and smoothed her hair beneath her cap. + +Lucy knew, but discreetly held her peace. Miss Hepsy stalked across +the passage and into the sitting-room, her looks asking as plainly as +any words what they wanted. + +"This is Mr. Robert Keane, Miss Strong," said the minister. "He wants +to see you and your brother, I think, on a little business." + +Miss Hepsy elevated her eyebrows, and shook hands with Mr. Keane in +silence. + +"Josh is in the barn. I s'pose I'd better send for him," she said. + +And Mr. Keane answered courteously--"If you please." + +She opened the door and called to Lucy to run to the barn for her +uncle. + +"Yes, Aunt Hepsy," answered Lucy, her sweet, clear tones contrasting +strongly with her aunt's unpleasant voice. + +"Miss Goldthwaite's all right again, eh?" she asked, sitting down +near the door. + +"I am thankful to say my sister is none the worse of her adventure," +answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "But for Tom's bravery the consequences +might have been more serious." + +"H'm, I told him it would be a precious long time afore he got on the +ice again to be laid up, botherin' strange folks, an' I guess I'll +keep my word." + +"You must not be so hard on him, Miss Strong," said the minister. "He +is a very fine lad, and tries very hard to please you, I know." + +Aunt Hepsy remained silent. + +"What a pretty place you have, Miss Strong," said Mr. Keane's +pleasant, well-modulated voice. "The Peak shows splendidly from this +window." + +"The place aren't no great thing, sir," said Miss Hepsy.--"Here's +Josh." She opened the door, and Uncle Josh appeared on the threshold +in his working garb, grimy and dust-stained, as he had come from +repairing the mill. He pulled his hair to the minister, and bowed +awkwardly to Mr. Keane. + +"Sit down, Josh," said Miss Hepsy, but Josh preferred to stand. There +was just a moment's constrained silence. + +"I have called to see you, Mr. Strong," said Robert Keane, plunging +into the subject without further delay, "about your nephew Tom. He is +very anxious to become a painter, I find. Would you have any +objections to me putting him in the way of life to which his desire +and talent point him?" + +"Has the ungrateful little brat been carrying his grumbling among you +folks?" said Miss Hepsy wrathfully. + +"Be quiet, Hepsy," said Joshua Strong very imperatively. + +"I don't quite understand you, sir," he said to Mr. Keane. "I can't +afford to send the boy anywhere to learn anything, if ye mean that. +He'll never do no good on a farm, for sartin; but he kin work for his +livin' here, an' that's all I kin do for 'im." + +"I am a painter myself," said Mr. Keane, guessing they were unaware +of the fact, and now wishing to state his intentions as briefly and +plainly as possible; "and from what I have seen of your nephew I +believe his talent for art to be very great indeed. What I mean is +this: give him up to me; I will take him back to Philadelphia, and +take entire care of his training. It will not cost you a farthing, +Mr. Strong. Do you understand?" + +"We're poor folks, but we don't take charity even for Hetty's +children," said Miss Hepsy pointedly. "We've never been offered it +afore." + +Mr. Keane might have waxed angry at the impertinent remark. He was +only inwardly amused. "It is not charity, Miss Strong," he said +good-humouredly. "I expect Tom will be able to repay anything he may +cost me. I hope you will not stand in the lad's way. He is a born +artist, and will never do good in any other sphere.--Come, Mr. +Strong, say yes, and let us shake hands over the bargain." + +It was proof of the rare delicacy of Robert Keane's nature that he +put the matter in the light of a favour to himself. Mr. Goldthwaite +admired and honoured his friend at that moment more than he had ever +done before. + +Aunt Hepsy preserved a rigid and unbending silence. + +Uncle Josh stood twirling his thumbs reflectively. It was to cost him +nothing, not a farthing; and he would be rid of the bother the +hot-headed youngster was to him. But for his sister he would have +granted a ready assent. + +"Wal, Hepsy?" he said in an inquiring tone. + +"You're the master, Josh, I reckon. Do as ye please. It's all one to +me;" and to their amazement she flounced out of the room and banged +the door behind her. + +"I'm much obleeged to you, Mr. Keane," said Josh, finding his tongue +in a marvellously short time. "I've no objections. As I said afore, +he's an idle, peart young 'un; no good at farm work. I hope yell be +able to make a better job o' him than I've done." + +"I am not afraid," said Mr. Robert Keane. "And I am obliged to you +for granting my request. Can I see Tom?" + +"I reckon you may," said Uncle Josh slowly. "Wal, I'll be off to that +plaguy mill. Good-day to you.--My respects to Miss Goldthwaite, +parson." Once more Uncle Josh pulled his forelock, and shambled out +of the room. + +"It doesn't cause them much concern anyway," said Mr. Keane when the +door closed. "They are a bright pair; I should be afraid of that +woman myself. How that mite of a girl stands it I don't know." + +Before Mr. Goldthwaite had time to answer, the door opened, and a +very eager, excited-looking boy appeared on the threshold. + +"Well, Tom, my boy," said Mr. Keane, holding out his hand, "the +bargain's sealed. You belong to me now." + +"Has Uncle Josh--has Aunt Hepsy said I might?" he said breathlessly. +"Oh, it is too good to be true!" + +"True enough," said Mr. Keane, laughing at the lad's manner.--"Please +assure him of it, Mr. Goldthwaite." + +Mr. Goldthwaite laid his hand on the lad's shoulder, and bent his +grave eyes on his beaming face. "I congratulate you," he said +heartily. "And I hope that by-and-by all Pendlepoint will be proud of +the name of Tom Hurst." + +Tom drew his hand across his eyes. "I can't help it, sir," he said +apologetically. "But if you knew how much I've wished for this and +dreamed of it.--Oh, I feel I can never be grateful enough to you, Mr. +Keane!" + +"Nonsense," said Mr. Keane. "Well, we must be going. Show us the way +out, will you, Tom? Your aunt has deserted us. I don't leave for a +fortnight yet. I shall see you again in a day or two." + +Aunt Hepsy, however, had not altogether forgotten the duties of +hospitality, and now reappeared and asked them to stay to tea. Her +face had cleared a little, and she seemed to regret her previous +rudeness. Her invitation, however, was courteously declined. + +"You're here, I see, Tom," she said severely. "Well, I hope you're +properly grateful to Mr. Keane for doing so much for you. An' I hope +ye'll mend yer ways, an' be a better boy than ye've been." + +"I am very grateful, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom very quietly. "And I will +try to be what you say." + +Something in his face and eyes touched even Aunt Hepsy, and it came +upon her very suddenly to wonder if she had not treated him a little +unjustly. "He's a biddable cretur, too," she said to Mr. Keane. "An' +p'raps he'll take more kindly to your kind o' life than ours. I don't +think much o' them useless ways o' livin' myself, but there's +differences." + +"Some day perhaps, Miss Strong, when Tom comes back a great man," +laughed Mr. Keane, as he shook hands with her and Tom, "you'll admit +you've changed your mind. If you do I'll come along and have a good +laugh at you." + +A smile actually appeared on Miss Hepsy's face. "He's a real +pleasant-spoken gentleman, Mr. Robert Keane," said Aunt Hepsy, as she +shut the door.--"Well, Tom, I hope ye'll get yer fill o' paintin' +now." + +Tom's eyes beamed, but he made no verbal reply. Lucy followed him to +the door as he passed out to the barn again. + +"O Tom, I am so glad," she whispered joyfully; and Tom answered by +tossing his cap in the air and trying to bound up after it. + +"Glad? I don't know whether I'm on my head or my heels, Lucy," he +said. "It's the happiest day of my life." + +Lucy kept the smile upon her face, not wishing to damp his joy, but +her heart was very sore. For what did Tom's departure mean for her? +It meant parting from all she had on earth; it meant a life of utter +loneliness and lovelessness, save for the dear outside friends she +could see so seldom. It was Lucy's nature ever to unselfishly bury +her own troubles and try to join in the happiness of others. + +"A fortnight only," she said to herself as she went back to her work. +"What will become of me?" + +The days sped fleetly for her, but slowly for Tom, who was eager to +be gone. Mr. Robert Keane paid frequent visits to Thankful Rest, and +all arrangements were satisfactorily made. Lucy went about, saying +little, and preserving her sweet serenity to the last. She busied +herself with Tom's small wardrobe, adding a touch here and there to +make it complete; and wept bitter tears over her work, as many +another sister has done before and since. It was not till the last +night that a thought of her came to cloud Tom's sky. They were +sitting together at the stove in the fading twilight, Lucy's face +very grave and sad. + +"I say Lucy, though," Tom said, "how awfully lonely it will be for +you when I'm gone. Why, whatever will you _do_?" + +"Think of you, and look for your letters," she said, her lips +quivering. "You will not forget me altogether, Tom?" + +A pang of remorse shot through Tom's heart. He came to her side and +threw one arm round her, remembering how his mother's last charge had +been to take care of Lucy, and how poorly he had done it after all. +Lucy had taken care of him instead. + +"Lucy, I'm a perfectly horrid boy," he said in a queer, quick way. +"Don't you hate me?" + +"Hate you? O Tom, I've nobody but you." + +Her sunny head drooped a moment against his arm, and her tears fell +without restraint. "I didn't mean to, Tom," she said at last, looking +up with a faint smile, "but I couldn't help it. I feel dreadful to +think of you going away." + +"When I'm a man, Lucy," he said manfully, "what a perfectly stunning +little home you and I shall have together. It won't be so long--why, +I'm thirteen." + +"Only about ten or twelve years," said Lucy, able to laugh now. "I +shall be gray-haired long before that time." + +"You! why, you'll be the same as you are at fifty. You are like +mamma; she never grew any older-looking. You must write often, mind, +Lucy, and tell me all about everything and everybody." + +Lucy promised, and, feeling very sad again, rose to light the lamp in +case she should break down. Aunt Hepsy was wonderfully kind that +night--she could be kind sometimes if she liked--and, altogether, the +evening passed pleasantly. Tom went to bed early, as they were to +start by the morning train. Lucy followed almost immediately. About +half-an-hour afterwards Aunt Hepsy went upstairs to put a forgotten +article into Tom's trunk, and was arrested by sounds in Lucy's room. +The door was a little ajar, and Aunt Hepsy peered in. Lucy was +undressed and sitting at the window, her arms on the dressing-table, +and her whole frame shaking with sobs. Once or twice Aunt Hepsy heard +the word "Mamma." The passion of grief and longing in the girl's +voice made something come into Aunt Hepsy's throat, and she slipped +noiselessly downstairs. + +"I don't feel easy in my mind, Josh," she said when she re-entered +the kitchen. "I'm feared we've been rayther hard on Hetty's children. +She never did us any harm." + +"Did I say she did, Hepsy?" asked Uncle Josh, serenely puffing away +at his pipe. "You was allus the worst at her and at the children. Ye +put upon that Lucy in a perfectly awful way." + +"Shut up," said Miss Hepsy in a tone which admitted of no further +remark, and the subject dropped. + +There was a great bustle in the morning, and before Lucy had time to +think about anything Tom had kissed her for the last time, and the +waggon drove away. He waved his handkerchief to her till they were +out of sight; and then she went back to the house sad and pale and +cheerless. + +"I guess you needn't fly round much to-day, Lucy," said Aunt Hepsy +with unusual thoughtfulness. "Ye don't look very spry, and feel down +a bit. Never mind, he ain't away for ever." + +"Thank you, Aunt Hepsy," said Lucy gently. "I'd rather work, if you +please. It takes up my mind better. Let me wash these dishes." + +Aunt Hepsy surmised the tears were kept for the loneliness of her own +chamber. She was right. Only to her mother's God did Lucy Hurst pour +out all her grief, and from Him sought the help and comfort none can +give so well as He. + + + +XII. + +WEARY DAYS. + +The unusual softening of heart and manner visible in Aunt Hepsy at +the time of Tom's departure disappeared before the lapse of many +days. You see, she had gone on in the old, sour, cross-grained way so +long, she felt most at home in it. She did not _feel_ unkindly +towards gentle, patient Lucy; but her manner was so ungracious, and +her words so sharp, you will not wonder that Lucy could not read +beneath the surface. She was very quiet, very sober, and very +listless; striving, too, to do her duties as well as aforetime, but +lacking physical strength. Tom's letters, frequent and full of hope +and happiness, were the chief solace of the girl's lonely life. Mr. +and Miss Goldthwaite came sometimes yet to Thankful Rest; but these +were family visits, and Lucy had few opportunities of quiet talk with +her friends. Many invitations had come from the Red House, but to +each and all Aunt Hepsy returned a peremptory refusal. + +"I'm not going to have her learn to fly round for ever at folks' +houses. She has plenty to do at home, and she'll do it, you take my +word for it. Tell Judge Keane's folks I'm mighty obliged to them, but +Lucy can't come. Let that be an end of it." So she said to Miss +Goldthwaite one day; and she carried the message, slightly modified, +to Mrs. Keane. So the days and weeks slipped away, till Winter had to +hide his diminished head before the harbingers of Spring. In the +closing days of March the ice broke up on the river, and all nature +seemed to spring to life again. Green blades and tiny blossoms began +to peep above ground, and the birds sang their songs of gladness on +the budding boughs. It was a busy time at Thankful Rest, both indoors +and out. In the first week of April began that awful revolution, Miss +Hepsy Strong's spring-cleaning. It was her boast that she could +accomplish in one week what other housewives could accomplish only in +three. For every half-idle hour Lucy had enjoyed during the winter +she had to atone now; for Aunt Hepsy kept her sweeping, and scouring, +and dusting, and trotting upstairs and down, till the girl's strength +almost failed her. She did not complain, however, and Aunt Hepsy was +too much absorbed to see that her powers were overtaxed. The cleaning +was triumphantly concluded on Saturday night, and Lucy crept away +early to bed, but was unable to sleep from fatigue. She came +downstairs next morning so wan and white that Aunt Hepsy feared she +was going to turn sick on her hands. But Lucy said she was well +enough, and would go to church as usual. Thinking she looked really +ill, Miss Goldthwaite came round to the porch after the service. + +"Lucy, what is it, child? your face is quite white. Do you feel well +enough?" + +Lucy smiled a little, and slipping her hand through Miss +Goldthwaite's arm, walked with her down the path. + +"This has been cleaning week," she said in explanation, "and I have +had more to do than usual. I daresay I'll be all right now." + +But Miss Goldthwaite did not feel satisfied, and said so to her +brother at the tea-table that night. + +"I'm going up to Thankful Rest, Frank, to tell Miss Hepsy to be +careful of Lucy. It is time somebody told her; she grows so thin, +and, I notice, eats nothing." + +Mr. Goldthwaite's anxiety exceeded his sister's, if that were +possible, but he said very little. Accordingly, next afternoon Miss +Goldthwaite betook herself to Thankful Rest. Finding the garden gate +locked, she went round by the back, and in the yard encountered Lucy +bending under the weight of two pails of water. She set them down on +beholding Miss Goldthwaite; and Carrie noticed that her hand was +pressed to her side, and that her breath came very fast. + +"You are not fit to carry these, Lucy," said she very gravely. "Is +there nobody but you?" + +"I have been washing some curtains and things to-day, Miss +Goldthwaite, and Aunt Hepsy thinks the water from the spring in the +low meadow better for rinsing them in." + +"Does she?" said Miss Goldthwaite, and her sweet lips closed together +more sternly than Lucy had ever seen them do before. + +Lucy passed into the wash-house with her pails, and Miss Goldthwaite +went into the house without knocking. Miss Hepsy was making +buckwheats, and greeted her visitor pleasantly enough. She sat down +in the window, turned her eyes on Miss Hepsy's face, and said +bluntly,-- + +"I'm going to say something which will likely vex you, Miss Hepsy, +but I can't help it. I've been wanting to say it this long time." + +Miss Hepsy did not look surprised, or even curious, she only said +calmly,-- + +"It wouldn't be the first time you've vexed me, Miss Goldthwaite, by +a long chalk." + +"It's about Lucy, Miss Hepsy," continued Miss Goldthwaite. "Can't you +see she's hardly fit to do a hand's turn at work? I met her out there +carrying a load she was no more fit to carry than that kitten." + +"Ain't she?" inquired Miss Hepsy quite unmoved. "What else?" + +"There she is; I see her through the door. Look at her, and _see_ if +she is well. If she doesn't get rest and that speedily, she'll go +into a decline, as sure as I sit here. I had a sister," said Carrie +with a half sob, "who died of decline, and she looked exactly as Lucy +does." + +Miss Hepsy walked from the dresser to the stove and back again before +she spoke. "When did you find out, Miss Goldthwaite, that Hepsy +Strong could not mind her own affairs and her own folks?" + +It was said in Miss Hepsy's most disagreeable manner, which was very +disagreeable indeed; but Miss Goldthwaite did not intend to be +disconcerted so soon. + +"You have a kind heart, I know, Miss Hepsy, though you show it so +seldom. You must know Lucy's value by this time, and if you haven't +learned to love her, I don't know what you are made of. Be gentle +with her, Miss Hepsy; she is very young--and she has no mother." + +Miss Hepsy's temper was up, and she heard the gentle pleading +unmoved. + +"Ye've meddled a good deal wi' me, Miss Goldthwaite," she said +slowly, "and I've never told ye to mind yer own business before, but +I tell ye now. An' though ye are the parson's sister, ye say things I +can't stand. Ye'd better be goin'; an' ye needn't come to Thankful +Rest again till ye can let me an' my concerns alone." + +Miss Goldthwaite rose at once, not angry, only grieved and +disappointed. + +"Good-bye, then, Miss Hepsy. It was only my love for Lucy made me +speak. I'm sorry I've offended you. She is a dear, good girl. Some +day, perhaps, you will be sorry you did not listen to my words," she +said, and went away. + +Not many words, good or bad, did Aunt Hepsy speak in the house that +night. Lucy, busy with her mending, wondered what had passed that +afternoon that Miss Goldthwaite's stay had been so brief. Aunt +Hepsy's eyes rested keenly on Lucy's pale, sweet face more than once, +and she was forced to admit that it was paler and thinner and more +worn-looking than it need be. But she hardened her heart, and refused +to obey its more kindly promptings. A few more days went by. Lucy +grew weaker, and flagged in her work; and Aunt Hepsy watched her, and +_would not_ be the first to take needful steps. On Sunday morning +Lucy did not come downstairs at the usual time, and even the +clattering of breakfast dishes failed to bring her. At length Aunt +Hepsy went upstairs. Lucy was still in bed. + +"Are you sick, child?" said Aunt Hepsy in a strange quick voice. + +Lucy answered very feebly,--"I'm afraid I'm goin' to be, Aunt Hepsy. +I tried to get up, but I couldn't; and I haven't slept any all +night." + +"Where do you feel ill?" + +"All over," said the girl wearily. "I've felt so for a long time, but +I tried to go about. Are you angry because I'm going to be sick, Aunt +Hepsy? It'll be a bother to you; but perhaps I'm going to mamma." + +"Do you want to kill me outright, Lucy?" said her aunt; and even in +her weakness Lucy opened her eyes wide in surprise. "If you speak +about goin' to yer ma again," she said, "ye will kill me. Ye've got +to lie there an' get better as fast as you like. I'll send for Dr. +Gair, an' nurse ye night and day." + +Aunt Hepsy could have said a great deal more, but a something in her +throat prevented her. She went downstairs immediately, and despatched +the boy for Dr. Gair. During his absence, she endeavoured to induce +Lucy to take some breakfast, but in vain. + +"I'm real sick, Aunt Hepsy," she said. "Just let me lie still. I +don't want anything but just to be quiet." + +Within the hour Dr. Gair came to Thankful Rest, for Miss Hepsy's +message had been urgent. He was an old man, blunt-mannered, but truly +tenderhearted, and a great favourite in the township. He had not been +once at Thankful Rest since Deacon Strong's death, for neither the +brother nor sister had ever had a day's illness in their lives. He +made his examination of Lucy in a few minutes, and Miss Hepsy watched +with a sinking heart how very grave his face was when he turned to +her. He had few questions to ask, and these Lucy answered as simply +as she could. + +"Am I going to be very sick, Dr. Gair?" said Lucy. + +"Yes, my dear; but please God, we may pull you through," said the old +man softly. "In the meantime I can't do much; I'll look in again in +the afternoon." + +Miss Hepsy followed him in silence down the stairs, and he drew on +his gloves in the lobby without speaking. + +"This is a case of gross neglect, Miss Strong," he said at length. +"The girl's delicate frame is thoroughly exhausted by over-fatigue +and want of attention." + +"Tell me something I don't know, Dr. Gair," said she sharply. + +"And if she recovers, of which I am more than doubtful," he continued +sternly, "it is to be hoped you will turn over a new leaf in your +treatment of her. I am a plain man, Miss Strong, not given to gilding +a bitter pill. If your niece dies, you may take home the blame to +yourself. Good morning." + +"I know all that, my good man, better than you can tell me," said +Aunt Hepsy grimly. "You do your best to bring her round, an' I won't +forget it. I've been a wicked woman, Dr. Gair, an' I s'pose the +Lord's goin' to punish me now; an' he couldn't have chosen a surer +way than by sending sickness to Lucy. Good morning." + +Aunt Hepsy shut the door, and went into the kitchen. There Joshua sat +anxiously awaiting the doctor's verdict. + +"There ain't much hope, Josh," she said briefly. + +"Ain't there, Hepsy? It's a bad job for the little 'un." + +"An' for more than her, I reckon," returned his sister shortly. "I've +lived one and forty years at Thankful Rest, Josh, an' I never felt as +I do this day. I'd a mighty deal rather be sick myself than see the +child's white face. If she gets round, I'll be a better woman, with +the Lord's help. How He's borne with me so long's a marvel I can't +comprehend. One and forty years, Josh Strong, and Lucy jes' fifteen. +She's done a deal more good in one day o' her life than you or me +ever did in all ours. The Lord forgive us, Josh, an' help us to make +a better use o' what's left. Jes' step down to Pendlepoint, will ye, +an' ask the parson an' his sister up. I guess Lucy'd be pleased to +see 'em. One an' forty years, dear, dear; an' Lucy jes' fifteen." + +Aunt Hepsy went out wiping her eyes, and stole upstairs again to +Lucy. + + + +XIII. + +LUCY FINDS THE KEY. + +For several days a great shadow lay on Thankful Rest while Lucy +hovered between life and death. Everything human care and skill could +suggest was done, and the issue was in God's hands. Miss Goldthwaite +had come up to Thankful Rest on Sunday, and had stayed, because Lucy +seemed to be happier when she was by. Callers were innumerable, and a +messenger came from the Red House every morning asking a bulletin. +What Aunt Hepsy suffered during those days I do not suppose anybody +ever guessed. It was her way to hide her feelings always, but she +would sit or stand looking at the sick girl with eyes which ought to +have brought her back to health. Uncle Josh was in and out fifty +times a day, and things outside were allowed to manage themselves; +all interest centred in the little attic chamber and its suffering +occupant. She lay in a kind of stupor most part of the day, only +moaning at times with the pain Dr. Gair was powerless to relieve. She +grew perceptibly weaker, and they feared to leave her a moment, lest +she should slip away while they were gone. So the days went by till +Sunday came round again. Dr. Gair came early that morning, and +looked, if possible, graver than usual. + +"If she lives till evening," he said to the anxious watchers, "she +will recover, but I cannot give you much hope. Administer this +medicine every two hours; it is all I can do. I will be back before +night." + +In after years Aunt Hepsy was wont to say that Sunday was the longest +day she had ever spent in her life. I think others felt so too. +Slowly the hours went round. Even into the darkened room the spring +sunshine would peep, and the twittering of the birds in the orchard +broke the oppressive stillness. At four o'clock the doctor came +again. Save for the almost imperceptible breathing, Lucy lay so pale +and still that they almost thought her dead. At sunset she moved +uneasily, and with a great sigh lifted her heavy lids and looked +round the room. A sob burst from Aunt Hepsy's lips, and Carrie +Goldthwaite's tears fell fast, for Dr. Gair's face said she was +saved. Her lips moved, and he bent down to catch the faintly murmured +words,-- + +"Have I been sick a long time? I am going to get well now." + +The doctor nodded and smiled. "God has been very good to you--to us +all--my child," he said. "He has heard the prayers of those who love +you." + +Carrie came to the bedside then, and bending over her, kissed her +once with streaming eyes. Aunt Hepsy moved to the window and drew up +the blind, and the red glow of the setting sun crept into the room, +and lay bright and beautiful on Lucy's face. + +"I am glad to see the sun again," said Lucy wearily. "I seem to have +been sick so long. May I go to sleep now, Dr. Gair?" + +"Yes; and sleep a week if you like," he said cheerily.--"Rest and +care now, Miss Strong, is all she needs to bring her round." + +Aunt Hepsy made no reply whatever. She stood still in the window, her +face softened into a strange, thankful tenderness, and her heart +lifting itself up in gratitude to God, and in many an earnest +resolution for the future. She followed Dr. Gair downstairs, as she +had done that day a week before, and as he passed out caught his hand +in a grip of iron. "I'm a woman of few words, Dr. Gair," she said +abruptly, "but I won't forget what you've done for me an' mine." + +"God first, Miss Strong," said the doctor gravely; and then he added +with an odd little smile, "Lucy's lines will be in pleasant places +now, I fancy?" + +"If they ain't, I'll know the reason why," said she grimly. "Good +evening." + +Lucy's sleep that night was calm and refreshing, and when Dr. Gair +came again in the morning he expressed himself pleased with her +condition. Miss Goldthwaite brought up a breakfast tray with a cup of +weak tea and a piece of toast, of which Lucy was able to eat a little +bit. She had fifty questions to ask; but remembering Dr. Gair's +peremptory orders, Carrie placed a finger on her lips and shook her +head. There would be plenty of time to talk by-and-by, for +convalescence would be a tedious business; in the meantime there was +absolute need of perfect rest. Miss Goldthwaite brought her sewing, +and sat down in the window seat, humming a scrap of song, the outcome +of the gladness of her heart. Lucy lay still in a state of dreamy +happiness, listening to the twittering of the birds mingling with +Carrie's song, and watching the gay April sunbeams dancing among her +golden curls. By-and-by Aunt Hepsy came up, and Lucy looked at her +curiously. She seemed to dimly remember that during the days of the +past week a face like Aunt Hepsy's had bent over her in love and +tenderness, and a voice like hers, only infinitely softer and +gentler, had spoken broken words of grief and prayer at her bedside. +Aunt Hepsy, just yet, did not meet Lucy's wondering eyes, nor speak +any words to her at all. She moved softly about the room, putting +things to rights deftly and silently; but Lucy was sure there was +something different about her. + +Immediately after the early dinner, seeing Lucy so much better, Miss +Goldthwaite bethought herself of her neglected household at +Pendlepoint, and said she would go home, promising to come again +to-morrow. Her eyes were full of tears as she bent over to bid Lucy +good-bye, and she whispered tenderly,-- + +"My darling, what a load I shall lift from anxious hearts at +Pendlepoint to-night. You don't know how dear you are to us all." + +Lucy smiled a little in a happy way; to her heart evidences of love +were very precious. She was left alone for nearly a couple of hours, +while Aunt Hepsy washed up dishes and set things right downstairs she +fell into a light doze, and when she awoke, it was to find Aunt Hepsy +sitting by her side with her knitting. + +"Have I been sleeping, Aunt Hepsy?" she said. "You don't know how +well I feel. I could almost get up, I think." + +Aunt Hepsy laughed a little tremulous laugh. + +"In about a month or so, I guess, you'll begin to think about getting +up," she said; and again something in Aunt Hepsy's face set Lucy +wondering _what_ was different about her. There was a short silence, +then Aunt Hepsy laid down her knitting, and took both Lucy's thin +hands in her firm clasp. "Lucy, do you think ye can ever forgive yer +old aunt?" she said suddenly and quickly. "I've been a cross, +hardhearted old fool, an' the Lord's been better to me than I dared +to hope for. He's heard my prayers, Lucy, an' he knows how hard I +mean to try and make up for the past. If ye'll say ye forgive me, and +try to care a little for me, ye'll maybe find Thankful Rest a +pleasanter place than ye think it now." + +"O Aunt Hepsy, don't say any more," pleaded Lucy, her eyes growing +dim. "I'm so glad I've been sick, because you've learned to love me a +little." + +So the barrier was broken down, and in the ensuing days these two +became very dear to each other; and Lucy grew to understand Aunt +Hepsy, and to see how much good there lay beneath her grim exterior. +The door of Aunt Hepsy's heart had long been locked, and like other +unused things, had grown rusty on its hinges. But Lucy had found the +key, and entered triumphantly at last. + + + +XIV. + +A GREAT CHANGE. + +You will be wondering what Tom had been about during his sister's +illness; but he was still in ignorance of it, his friends thinking it +best to wait till the crisis was past. It fell to Aunt Hepsy's lot to +send the news, and her letter was such a curiosity in its way that I +cannot do better than set it down just as it was. + + "THANKFUL REST, _April 18th, 18--_. + +"MY DEAR NEPHEW,--I daresay you'll wonder to hear from me, an' will +maybe feel skeered; so, to relieve you, I may as well say at once +that Lucy's been sick, very sick, but she's getting round nicely now, +thank the Lord. She is in bed yet, and I'm writing this beside her. +She sends her love, and says she'll write to-morrow. I guess I'll let +her do it in about a month. I want to ask you to forgive me for being +so hard on you when you lived here. I hope you don't bear your old +aunt any grudge. Lucy, God bless her, won't hear me abuse myself, so +it's a relief to do it to you, though you are a boy. I keep that +picter you drew of me that I slapped you for, an' I'll look at it +when I feel my pesky temper gettin' up. I suppose ye'll be so took up +with your paintin' ye couldn't never think of coming back to Thankful +Rest. It wouldn't be good for you, if you're getting on any way with +Mr. Robert Keane. But you'll come right away in summer, an' see what +a different place Lucy has made of Thankful Rest, an' how precious +she is to your uncle an' me. I guess she's one of the Lord's +messengers, sent to do what all the preachin' in the world couldn't. +I reckon I'll finish up. It has took me an hour to write this, I'm so +slow with the pen. Give my respects to Mr. Robert Keane; and when he +comes to Thankful Rest in summer, maybe he'll get a better welcome +than he got before. So no more at present. From your affectionate +aunt, + + "HEPSEY" + +That letter reached Boston Avenue in the evening, when Tom was poring +over a book of instructions for young artists. He was in his own +sanctum, which Mr. Keane had given him when he came--a tiny apartment +next the artist's studio, and commanding from its window the finest +view in Philadelphia. Tom seized the letter from the servant's hand. +He had written twice to Lucy, and was anxiously wondering at her +delay in answering, for Lucy had always been a faithful and punctual +correspondent. + +You would have laughed had you seen the varying expressions on Tom's +face as he read Aunt Hepsy's epistle;--concern at first to hear Lucy +was ill; relief to find her recovering; and, last of all, mute, +dumfoundered amazement at Aunt Hepsy. + +Mr. Keane opened his studio by-and-by and looked out. + +"Well, Tom, news from Lucy at last, my boy?" he asked. + +"No, sir," said Tom soberly, yet with an odd twinkle in his eye; and +then he held out the open letter, saying simply, "Read that, Mr. +Keane." + +Mr. Keane smiled too as he read. "Lucy has conquered, as I thought +she would," he said. "See, Tom, what an influence a meek, gentle, +loving spirit like Lucy's has in the world. You and I with our fiery +tempers sink into nothingness beside her." + +"You, Mr. Keane!" echoed Tom in amazement. "I don't think you have a +temper at all." + +"Haven't I?" The artist's smile grew sad. "There was a boy once who +was expelled from three schools for impertinence and insubordination, +and put his parents to the expense of keeping a tutor for him at +home. That tutor, Tom, was a man of splendid talents, which his +delicate health forbade him to exercise as he desired. His pupil +killed him, Tom; the worry and anxiety lest he should not come up to +the parents' expectation, combined with what he had to bear from the +boy himself, broke his health down, and he died. That boy was _me_." + +Tom sat wondering, while Mr. Keane, walking to and fro, continued +slowly--"I went to see him when he was dying, in his poor lodging: he +was very poor, you must understand, but nobody durst offer him +anything, lest he should feel hurt or insulted. As long as I live, +Tom, I shall never forget that night. I saw then clearly how wicked I +had been, and how what I thought manly independence befitting my +station was only the cowardice of a spirit as far beneath his as +earth is beneath heaven. That was a lesson I never forgot; and since +that night I have tried, with God's help, to use the legacy he left +me." + +"What was it?" asked Tom breathlessly. + +Mr. Keane lifted Lucy's Bible from the side-table, and turning over +the pages held it out to Tom, his finger pointing to the place. + +"Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth." + +"Tom," said Mr. Keane one morning a few days later, "I believe you +are going to Pendlepoint tomorrow?" + +"What?" Tom nearly bounded off his chair. The longing to go home to +Lucy for a day or two had well-nigh overcome him since Aunt Hepsy's +letter came; but he had tried to stifle it, and had applied himself +with double energy to his studies. + +"If you don't wish to go, of course I have no more to say," began Mr. +Keane; but Tom interrupted him-- + +"O sir, you don't mean me to go home for good and all, I hope; have I +disappointed you? I have tried so hard, sir." + +"Stop, stop!" cried Mr. Keane. "Wait till I hint at such a thing. You +have surpassed my expectations, my boy. I thought you would like to +see your sister, but if I am mistaken--" + +"I do want to go, sir; I would give the world almost to see +her--but--" + +"Well?" + +"The expense, sir," Tom ventured to say, encouraged by his kind +friend's manner. "It is a long journey, and I have cost you so much +already." + +"Nonsense; I am a rich man, Tom. But for all that I expect you to pay +me back some day. You and I will have a great reckoning by-and-by." + +There was a moment's silence. + +"How did you know I wanted to go home, Mr. Keane?" said Tom +by-and-by. + +"I have eyes, my boy," was all Mr. Keane answered, saying nothing of +a note he had received from his sister, which ran thus:-- + + "RED HOUSE, _April 27th_. + +"DEAR ROBERT,--Send Tom to Thankful Rest for a few days. Lucy will +get well twice as fast after she sees him.--Your affectionate sister, + + "ALICE." + +Next morning saw a very happy boy take his place in the train, which +would land him at Pendlepoint in the evening. It was a long, tiresome +journey, especially to an impatient being like Tom. But it came to an +end, as all things pleasant or unpleasant must, and he found himself +at the little old-fashioned depot towards seven o'clock at night. +There was no one to meet him, of course, because no one, not even +Miss Keane, expected him so soon. He ran all the way to the +parsonage, and knocked at the door, only to find Abbie in sole +possession. + +"The parson he be down town, Master Tom," she said, "and Miss Carrie +she be at Thankful Rest. I guess she's there most days till night." + +Tom thanked her and ran off again across the bridge and through the +meadow, not even pausing to look at the cattle, nor to see that Sally +was enjoying an unwonted holiday, and a dainty bite at the tender +young grass, which the mild weather had brought forward very fast. He +paused just a moment outside the orchard fence, and looked at the +house, not a little surprised to feel how glad he was to see it +again, and how dear it was to him after all. Then he pushed open the +gate, went up the path and over the garden fence, and saw Uncle Josh +digging the potato patch. + +"Halloo, Uncle Josh!" he shouted, feeling quite jovial and free +towards him; and Uncle Josh started up and let his spade fall from +his hands. + +"Marcy, younker, whar did ye come from?" was all he could utter. But, +no longer the surly man that he had been, he held out his hand to +him, and looked more than pleased to see him. + +"I came from Philadelphia to see Lucy," answered Tom soberly. "How is +she?" + +"Oh, gettin' along fast; she's in the far parlour these two days, +able to sit up till 'most night. I guess she won't be sot up to see +ye--oh no, not at all." + +There was a twinkle in Uncle Josh's eye, a thing Tom had never seen +before. Surely there _was_ a change at Thankful Rest. + +"I'll go in now," said Tom; and he went away round to the back door. +Keziah was making something at the stove, and nearly upset the +saucepan in her amazement. Tom nodded to her, and went off to the far +parlour. The door was ajar and he peeped in. Was _that_ the far +parlour? No, it could not be. There were white curtains at the +window, flowers everywhere. A sparkling fire in the high brass grate; +a low, restful rocking-chair at the hearth; and a couch he did not +remember to have seen before, but it looked as if it had been made +for ease and comfort. And on the couch lay Lucy, the fire-light +dancing on her face: it was pale and thin, but happy-looking, he +could see. + +She heard a noise at the door, and said, without looking round, "Are +you dressed already, Miss Carrie? How fast you have been!" + +There was no answer; then Lucy looked round and gave a great cry. And +Tom ran in and knelt down beside her, and gathered her shawl and all +in his arms, and they held each other very close; and for a long time +there was nothing said. + +"How did you come?" asked Lucy at last, her face radiant with joy. + +"By train. Mr. Keane sent me. Are you glad, Lucy?" + +"Glad?" Lucy had no words wherewith to express her gladness, but it +was evident enough. + +Just then footsteps sounded on the stair, and Miss Hepsy came into +the room followed by Miss Goldthwaite. + +She looked scared a moment, but when Tom rose and came to her +saying--"I came to see Lucy, Aunt Hepsy, and to thank you for being +so good to her,"--she just sat down in the rocking-chair and sobbed +like a child. Here was a state of matters! and Tom did not know just +then whether to laugh or to cry. But Miss Carrie diverted him by +asking questions about his journey, and by-and-by Miss Hepsy rose and +said she'd get supper. + +"An' ye'll jist bide, Miss Goldthwaite, an' we'll all have it here +with Lucy.--Dear, dear, this is a great night. Who'd 'a thought to +see you, Tom, all the way from Philadelphia?" + +"You look pretty comfortable, Lucy," said Tom jokingly. "I wouldn't +mind being sick myself, to be codled up like this." + +Lucy smiled, but her eyes grew dim. + +"I can't speak about it, Tom," she said. "Aunt Hepsy is too good to +me; she reminds me of mamma sometimes.--Isn't she kind, Miss Carrie?" + +Miss Carrie nodded, her sweet face full of satisfaction. Evidently +the new state of affairs was after her own heart. + +By-and-by the table was set, and they all gathered round it, and Tom +had a real Thankful Rest supper. + +There was not much said; but Tom saw how Aunt Hepsy watched and +tended Lucy; and how Uncle Josh, too, had grown gentle even in his +roughness; and, above all, he saw how beautiful was Lucy's face in +its perfect happiness and content. + +"You don't eat, Lucy, my pet," said Aunt Hepsy anxiously. + +"I can't, auntie; I am so happy, it's no use;" and Lucy covered her +face with her hands and fairly sobbed. + +Then Tom rose to his feet, and gave vent to a cheer which would have +done honour to an Englishman. + +"Bless me, boy, ye'll bring the house down," said Aunt Hepsy, but not +looking at all displeased. + +"Can't help it, Aunt Hepsy; it's surplus steam; must let it off, or I +can't answer for the consequences." And he cheered again and again, +till Keziah ran to see what was the matter. She went back to the +kitchen saying to herself, "When I see an' hear that here, I feel +like believin', Deacon Frost, that the world's comin' to an end." + +Not the world exactly, Keziah, only the old, hard, miserable days +have come to an end for ever, and a new era has begun at Thankful +Rest. + + + +XV. + +THE WEDDING. + +Tom stayed a week at home--_home_ it truly was to both Lucy and him +now, and he left it with regret. But the work he loved and had chosen +called him away, and knowing Lucy would be tenderly cared for, he +went back to Philadelphia, carrying a much lighter heart than when he +first entered it three months before. The summer would be a busy one +for him; and as the months sped he proved the truth of Mr. Keane's +words, that it was only through much hard, plodding, uninteresting +work, that he could ever hope to place his foot on the first step of +the ladder. But he had a kind hand and an encouraging word always +ready to help him on, and was happy in his apprenticeship. + +Thanks to Aunt Hepsy's careful nursing, midsummer saw Lucy fully +restored to health again. She had an easy and happy time of it now. +There was no more trotting up and down, no more bending under heavy +loads--it was only very light work her hands were permitted to do; +and she would laugh and tell Aunt Hepsy she was making a fine lady of +her altogether. + +"You do what you're bid, an' say nothin', my dear," was always Aunt +Hepsy's answer, with oh, what a difference in look and tone. + +There was no restriction to her visiting now. She would spend days at +the Red House, in company with her friend Minnie; who, in her turn, +would come to Thankful Rest, and keep the house alive with her gay +nonsense. + +So the summer sped, harvest was ingathered again, and one sunny +evening in September, Miss Goldthwaite came up to Thankful Rest on +special business. Rumours were afloat that the parsonage was soon to +lose Miss Carrie, but they had not yet been confirmed. + +Miss Hepsy was in the garden, and gave the parson's sister a warm +greeting. + +"Is Lucy indoors?" Carrie asked, after they had chatted a moment. + +"Yes; I heard her singing a minute ago," answered Aunt Hepsy. "Jes' +go in and look for her, Miss Goldthwaite; I'll be in by-and-by." + +"Perhaps I had better talk to you first, Miss Hepsy, as you have the +power to grant or refuse what I want." + +"I don't often say no to ye, Miss Carrie," said Aunt Hepsy with a dry +smile. + +"I know it; but this is a very serious request--in fact, I am afraid +to make it." + +"Out with it. I can but say no any way." + +Miss Goldthwaite leaned on her parasol, and looked at Aunt Hepsy, +smiling, and blushing slightly too. + +"Perhaps you know I'm going to be married soon, Miss Hepsy?" + +"I hear the folks sayin' so; but I paid no heed, guessin' ye'd come +an' tell us afore it took place. Is't to be immediately?" + +"At Christmas. But I'm going home to New York in three weeks." + +"To get ready," nodded Miss Hepsy. "Well?" + +"Can't you guess what I want, Miss Hepsy?" + +Miss Hepsy stood a moment in wondering silence, and then said very +slowly, "I guess it'll be Lucy ye want." + +"Yes; I want her to go home with me, and remain till after my +marriage. Frank will bring her back when he comes. Now it's out. +Order me off the premises now, Miss Hepsy; I know you feel like it." + +"This is September," said Aunt Hepsy very slowly; "October, November, +December, January--perhaps nigh half a year. Well, Miss Goldthwaite, +excuse me sayin' it, but the Lord'll need to help your husband; he'll +not be able to help hisself, that's certain. Ye'd move the Peak, as +I've said afore." + +"Am I to take that as your permission, Miss Hepsy?" + +"Hev ye spoke to Lucy?" + +"Not yet; you had to be asked first. If you had said no, I should not +have thought of mentioning it to Lucy at all." + +"If Lucy wants to go, I'm willin'; but it'll be a queer house without +her." + +"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, and bent forward and kissed +her. "I think you will not regret it. It will soon pass, and will do +Lucy a world of good. She is growing up, you know, and wants to see +something." + +"P'raps you're right," said Aunt Hepsy. "Yes, go in now, Miss +Goldthwaite; I want to think a bit." + +Carrie went in, and kneeling down on the hearth beside Lucy, said +abruptly, "I am going to be married at Christmas, Lucy, and want you +for my bridesmaid. I am going home to New York in three weeks, and +your aunt says I may take you with me. Will you come?" + +Lucy's face flushed with pleasure, but she said quickly,-- + +"You are very kind, Carrie. I should like it dearly. But would it be +right to leave my uncle and aunt?" + +"If they say you may, Lucy. I have thought it well over before I +mentioned it at all; and I'm sure you would enjoy yourself." + +"I know that. May I have a day or two to think of it, Carrie?" + +"As many as you like, so that you only come, dear. Now, I'm going +off; I haven't a minute to spare.--By-the-by, Alice and Minnie will +likely be at papa's, too, all December, so that is another +inducement. Goodbye." She stooped and kissed Lucy, and ran out of the +house. + +Pretty soon Aunt Hepsy came in, looking very grave and sad. She took +up her knitting, and for a bit neither spoke. + +"Three months is a long time, Aunt Hepsy," said Lucy at last. + +Aunt Hepsy never spoke. + +Then Lucy rose and came to her, and laid her arm about her neck. "You +don't want me to go, auntie, I know you don't." + +"Go away; I didn't say I didn't," said Aunt Hepsy in her gruffest +tones. + +"Auntie, if you will only tell me you would rather I stayed, I won't +go." + +"Don't ask questions, child. I guess I'd never live through them +three months. As well go away for ever almost." + +"Then I won't go," said Lucy stoutly. "I'd dearly like to be at +Carrie's wedding; but I can't leave you, auntie, for so long." And +from that decision no persuasion could induce Lucy to depart--she was +firm as a rock; but Aunt Hepsy made a little private arrangement of +her own, which was to be kept a profound secret from the bride-elect. + +Judge Keane travelled to New York the day before Christmas with a +young lady under his care; and when the pair were ushered into Dr. +Goldthwaite's drawing-room, the bride-elect saw, peeping out from +among the rich furs which Aunt Hepsy had provided for her darling, a +face she loved very dearly, and which could belong to nobody in the +world but Lucy Hurst. + +They were all together in the long drawing-room, waiting only the +coming of the bride, ere the solemn ceremony could be performed. +There was a large company, for the Goldthwaites had a wide circle of +acquaintance. Conspicuous among them were the friends we know +best--all the Keanes (save the invalid mother, who thought and prayed +for them at home), and Tom and Lucy Hurst. It had been a surprise to +Lucy to find him at New York. She had not expected to see him again +till the summer-time. She looked very fair and sweet in her delicate +white dress, but was utterly unconscious of the admiration she was +creating; and of the close observation of a pair of dark earnest +eyes, which had been the first gleam of comfort to her when her +mother died. + +By-and-by, old white-haired Dr. Goldthwaite came in with Carrie on +his arm, and they took their places silently; and in a very few +minutes Frank had uttered the irrevocable words, and the wedding was +over. Then Mr. and Mrs. George Keane received abundant +congratulations, and they adjourned to partake of breakfast. In the +hall stood a quantity of baggage labelled "Mrs. Keane," which seemed +very formidable, but was not much after all, considering the +travellers were going to Europe. Yes; the young pair were to have a +six months' tour before settling down at Pendlepoint, and some felt +as if Carrie were going away for ever. She looked very grave and sad; +and when she came down ready to go, broke down utterly bidding her +mother good-bye. + +"Now then, this will never do," said Judge Keane, with that comical +smile of his. "George, get your wife into the carriage, or we shall +have her rueing she ever promised to follow you." + +Carrie smiled through her tears, and shook her finger at the judge. +Then, as she turned to go, a light touch fell upon her arm, and a low +voice whispered tremulously,-- + +"May God bless you all your life, Mrs. Keane." + +It was Lucy, her great eyes shining with unspeakable love and +tenderness. + +"Never Mrs. Keane to you, Lucy, my pet," she whispered back. "Carrie +always, and always. Write to me." + +Then she was hurried out to the carriage, forgetting in the +excitement of the moment that she possessed no address to give. The +door closed upon them, the coachman sprang to the box, and the next +moment they were gone. They had embarked together on the sea of life, +and the voyage bade fair to be a happy and prosperous one. + +"I don't like weddings," said Judge Keane discontentedly. "They are +miserable, heart-breaking things at the best." + +"Time was when you did not think so, judge," said the doctor, with a +twinkle in his eye.--"Eh, little one?" + +It was Lucy whom the doctor addressed, and she answered timidly, "It +is very sad to give away those we love, as you have done to-day, +sir." + +"Wait till somebody wants to take you away, my lady," laughed the +judge. "There'll be an earthquake at Thankful Rest." + +"I never heard any one speak as you do, Judge Keane," said Lucy, with +a dignity which dumfoundered Tom; and she moved away and sat down by +Mrs. Goldthwaite, and began to talk to her about Carrie. + +"What makes you look so sober, Tom Hurst?" queried Minnie Keane's +voice at his elbow a few minutes later. + +"Shall I tell you, Minnie?" + +"You must," was the calm reply. + +"It seems to me, then," he said very slowly, "that Lucy is growing +up, and I don't like it. Do you?" + +"I don't mind. Everybody grows up and marries, and goes to Europe, +and dies after a bit; that's about what life amounts to--not much, is +it?" + +Tom laughed, he couldn't help it; but after a bit he answered +gravely, "I am afraid to grow up myself, Minnie." + +"Why?" + +"Because a man has so much responsibility, so much to do for God: I +don't think it will be very easy." + +"Oh, I do!" answered Minnie. "Just do all you can, with all your +might; that's what mamma says, and it's the easiest way." + +"So it is," said Tom. "I shan't forget that, Minnie." + +And neither he did. + + + +XVI. + +FIVE YEARS AFTER. + +Again it was sweet spring-time at Thankful Rest. The garden was gay +with tender leaves and blossoms, and the orchard white with bloom. +There the birds made sweet melody as of yore; and, as of yore, the +sunny river brawled and whispered and played as it hurried through +the meadow to the sea. + +At five o'clock in the afternoon Aunt Hepsy was in the kitchen, busy +as usual; her hands knew no idleness. Two teacups and a plate of cake +stood on the table, the remnants of the early tea she and Lucy had +taken a little while before. Presently a light step sounded in the +lobby, and Lucy came in dressed for walking. Five years make a great +change; for she had grown from a slight, diminutive girl, to a tall, +lithe, graceful young lady, just on the verge of womanhood. + +"Ye look like a picter, by all the world," said Aunt Hepsy, pausing +to admire her; and Lucy's answer was a silvery laugh, so full of +perfect happiness and content, that a silent bird on the window ledge +caught the infection and burst into song. + +"I'm going to the post-office to see if there's a letter from Tom, +Aunt Hepsy," she said; "and then to Dovecot, to see Mrs. George +Keane. I'll be back sure before dark." + +"Ye'd better," said Aunt Hepsy, with something of her ancient +grimness. "The house ain't worth livin' in when ye're out." + +Lucy came close to Aunt Hepsy, and laying her gloved hands on her +shoulders, bent tender, beaming eyes on her face. "It makes me so +thankful, auntie, to think you miss me, and are glad when I come +back. I don't suppose there's a happier girl anywhere than I am." + +"Nor a happier pair than ye make yer uncle an' me," said Aunt Hepsy +softly. "Off ye go, ye waste my time like anything; time was when I'd +make ye fly round considerable if ye'd ventured." + +Lucy laughed, and went her way, turning aside as she went through the +paddock for a pleasant word with Uncle Josh ploughing in the low +meadow. He stopped his team to watch the pretty girlish figure out of +sight. Crossing the bridge she met Ebenezer going with a letter to +Thankful Rest. It was for her, and in Tom's handwriting. There was no +need for her to go down to the town, and she turned in the direction +of the Dovecot, which was the name of the pretty home occupied by +George Keane and his wife. It was midway between the Red House and +the parsonage, and fifteen minutes' leisurely walking brought her to +it. Miss Goldthwaite had been married four years past, and had one +little son, the joy and torment of her life. He was in bed, however, +when Lucy called, so there was a chance of a moment's quiet talk. + +"I have had a letter from Tom to-night, Carrie," she said when the +first greetings were over. "His picture has sold for five hundred +dollars." + +"O Lucy, I am so glad. Such a success for a young artist! How proud +Robert will be of his pupil." + +Lucy's eyes beamed her pride, though she said very little. + +"Frank is here," said Mrs. Keane after a moment. "He is out somewhere +with George; let us find them, and communicate the good news. What +will Aunt Hepsy say?" + +They rose and went out into the sweet spring twilight and found Mr. +Goldthwaite and Mr. George Keane in the garden at the back. There +were warm congratulations from both, and an hour slipped away in +discussing the artist, his work and prospects, till Lucy remembered +her promise to Aunt Hepsy, and said that she must be going. Mr. +Goldthwaite would return too, he said, as it was growing late. His +sister fancied Lucy's company was an inducement to him to leave so +early, but she discreetly held her peace. + +It was almost dark, though the lamp was not lit at Thankful Rest, +when Lucy reached home. + +"You've kept your time," said Aunt Hepsy well pleased. "Did ye come +home alone?" + +"No, Aunt Hepsy," answered Lucy very low, and the semi-darkness hid +her face. "Mr. Goldthwaite was at Dovecot, and walked home with me." + +"Mrs. Keane's folks all well?" asked Aunt Hepsy, suspecting nothing. + +"Yes; and O Aunt Hepsy, I have a letter from Tom: his picture in the +exhibition has sold for five hundred dollars." + +Aunt Hepsy uplifted her hands in mute amazement. + +"Marcy on us," she exclaimed at last. "What a power o' money for a +picter! Is't true, Lucy?" + +"Yes, quite true; and he has got such praise for it," said Lucy +joyfully. "Aren't you proud of him, Aunt Hepsy?" + +"I guess I am," said Aunt Hepsy. "Five hundred dollars! Dear, dear! +What will Josh say to this? Does he say anything about coming home +soon?" + +"I'll read you the letter when the lamp's lighted, auntie," said +Lucy. + +"Well, light it, there's a good child; it's 'most time anyway. I've +been idle a good half-hour." + +But Lucy did not seem in any hurry. She hovered about in an odd, +restless kind of way, and finally came behind Aunt Hepsy's chair, and +folded her hands on her shoulder. + +"What is it, child?" said Aunt Hepsy wonderingly. "Summat you have to +tell me, I reckon. Anything in Tom's letter ye haven't told me?" + +"No, Aunt Hepsy," and Lucy's voice fell very low now. "I want to tell +you--I have promised to be Mr. Goldthwaite's wife." + +"Bless me, Lucy, 'tain't true?" cried Aunt Hepsy, starting up; and +seeing in Lucy's downcast face confirmation of her words, she sank +back to her chair, and for the first and only time in her life Aunt +Hepsy went off into hysterics. + +In the tender gloaming of an August evening Tom and Lucy Hurst stood +together within the porch at Thankful Rest. They had been at +Pendlepoint visiting old friends, and, after walking slowly home, +lingered here talking of old times, and loath to leave the soft +beauty of the summer night. A tall, broad-shouldered, handsome fellow +was Tom Hurst now, towering a head above his sister, who stood very +close to him, her head leaning against his shoulder. + +"Do you remember what a pair of miserable little creatures stood just +here five years ago, Lucy?" he said half laughingly, half earnestly. + +"Yes," said Lucy softly. "What a difference between then and now." + +There was a moment's silence. Tom's eyes watched the stars peeping +out one by one in the opal sky, his heart full of the happiness of +the present and all the hope and promise of the future. + +Presently Aunt Hepsy, ever watchful for Lucy now, called to them to +come in, for the dews were falling. + +"Tom, has not God cast our lines in pleasant places, and given us a +goodly heritage?" said Lucy softly as they turned to obey the +summons. + +"Ay," answered Tom, his voice softening also. "May He help us to be +truly grateful for His goodness all our lives, Lucy." + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Thankful Rest, by Annie S. 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Swan</title> + +<STYLE type=text/css>BODY { + MARGIN-TOP: 100px; FONT-SIZE: 14pt; BACKGROUND: #faebd7; MARGIN-LEFT: 10%; COLOR: black; MARGIN-RIGHT: 10%; FONT-FAMILY: "Times New Roman", serif; TEXT-ALIGN: justify +} +HR { + WIDTH: 100%; HEIGHT: 5px; +} +HR.narrow { + WIDTH: 50%; HEIGHT: 1px; +} +BLOCKQUOTE { + FONT-SIZE: 14pt +} +BLOCKQUOTE.footnote { + FONT-SIZE: 14pt +} +.smallcaps { + FONT-VARIANT: small-caps +} +P.footnote { + FONT-SIZE: 14pt; MARGIN-LEFT: 5%; TEXT-INDENT: 0px; MARGIN-RIGHT: 0px +} +TABLE { + FONT-SIZE: 14pt +} +P { + TEXT-INDENT: 4% +} +A:link { + COLOR: blue; TEXT-DECORATION: none +} +LINK { + COLOR: blue; TEXT-DECORATION: none +} +A:visited { + COLOR: blue; TEXT-DECORATION: none +} +A:hover { + COLOR: red +} +PRE { + FONT-SIZE: 9pt +} +</STYLE> + +<META content="MSHTML 6.<CENTER> +00.2800.1264" name=GENERATOR> +</HEAD> +<BODY> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12998 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Thankful Rest, by Annie S. Swan</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<HR noshade> +<BR><BR><BR> +<CENTER> +<H1>THANKFUL REST</H1><BR>by<BR><BR><BR> +<H2>ANNIE S. SWAN</H2> +<H4>Author of "Aldersyde," "Carlowrie" "Shadowed" &c. &c.</H4> +<HR class=narrow> +</center> +<br><br><br> +<blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> + There is no road, though rough and steep,<br> + Without an end at last,<br> + And every rock upon the way<br> + By patience can be passed. +<br><br> + There are few human hearts too hard<br> + For gentleness to win;<br> + Somewhere a hidden chink appears<br> + Where love may enter in.<br> +<br></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> + +<center> +<BR><BR><BR> +<H3>CONTENTS</H3><BR> + +<TABLE border=0> + <TBODY> + <TR> + <TD align="right">I. </TD> + <TD><a href="#1">UNWELCOME NEWS</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">II. </TD> + <TD><a href="#2">THE PARSONAGE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">III. </TD> + <TD><a href="#3">THE ARRIVAL</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">IV. </TD> + <TD><a href="#4">THE NEW HOME</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">V. </TD> + <TD><a href="#5">SUNDAY</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">VI. </TD> + <TD><a href="#6">LOSING HOLD OF THE BRIDLE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">VII. </TD> + <TD><a href="#7">THE RED HOUSE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">VIII. </TD> + <TD><a href="#8">UP THE PEAK</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">IX. </TD> + <TD><a href="#9">A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">X. </TD> + <TD><a href="#10">ON THE LAKE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XI. </TD> + <TD><a href="#11">HOPES FULFILLED</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XII. </TD> + <TD><a href="#12">WEARY DAYS</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XIII. </TD> + <TD><a href="#13">LUCY FINDS THE KEY</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XIV. </TD> + <TD><a href="#14">A GREAT CHANGE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XV. </TD> + <TD><a href="#15">THE WEDDING</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XVI. </TD> + <TD><a href="#16">FIVE YEARS AFTER</a></TD></TR> + </TBODY></TABLE></CENTER> +<BR><BR><BR><BR> +<center>THANKFUL REST.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="1">I.</a> +<br><br> +UNWELCOME NEWS.</center> +<br> +<p>It was the prettiest homestead in all the township, everybody said, +and it had the prettiest name. It stood a mile or so beyond +Pendlepoint on the farther side of the river, from which it was +separated by a broad meadow, where in the summer time the sleek kine +stood udder-deep in cowslips and clover. + +<p>It was a long, low, comfortable-looking house, hidden by lovely +creeping plants, and sheltered at the back by the old elm trees in +the paddock, and at the front by the apple trees in the orchard. +Perhaps it was because it had such a snug, cosy, restful look about +it that it had been queerly christened Thankful Rest. The land +adjoining the homestead was rich and fertile, and brought in every +year a crop worth a goodly competence to its possessors. The family +at Thankful Rest consisted of two people—Joshua Strong and his +sister Hepzibah. You are to make their acquaintance immediately, but +a remark made once by old Reuben Waters, their next neighbour, may +perhaps give you an idea of their characters better than any long +description of mine:— + +<p>"For crankiness and nearness, and unneighbourly sourness, give me +Josh Strong and his sister Hepsy. They can't be equalled, I bet, in +all Connecticut." + +<p>You will be able to judge by-and-by of the correctness of Reuben's +estimate. On a lovely August afternoon Miss Hepzibah Strong was +ironing in the kitchen at Thankful Rest. I wish you could have seen +that kitchen; your eyes would have ached with its painful +cleanliness. The stone flags were as cool and clean as water and +hands could make them; the stove shone like burnished silver; the +dresser and the table, at which Miss Hepzibah was at work, were white +as snow; and the array of tins on the wall was perfectly dazzling +with brightness. The wide diamond-paned casement stood open to admit +what little air happened to be abroad that sultry afternoon. How +pleasant it was, to be sure, to look out upon the flower-laden +garden; upon the sunny orchard, rich and golden with its precious +harvest; upon the silver thread of the river winding through the +green meadow beyond; and to see and feel all the loveliness with +which God had clothed the world. But Miss Hepzibah had no eyes for +any of the beauties I have mentioned; she was intent upon her work, +and hung on the clothes-horse piece after piece of stiff, spotless +linen, which, as she could boast, could not be equalled in the +township. Miss Hepzibah herself was not a pretty picture. She was a +woman of thirty-five or thereabouts; with a thin, brown, hard-looking +face; sharp, twinkling gray eyes; and a long, grim, resolute mouth. +She wore a short skirt of dark material, a lilac calico jacket, and a +huge white apron. On ordinary occasions her head was adorned by a cap +of fearful workmanship and dimensions, but in the heat of her work +she had thrown it off, and her scanty brown hair was fastened tightly +back in a cue behind. + +<p>Just as the old eight-day clock in the lobby solemnly struck four, +there was a loud knock at the back door, and the post-messenger from +Pendlepoint strode into the kitchen, holding in his hand a +black-edged letter. + +<p>"Bad news for ye, Miss Hepsy, I doubt," he said. "It'll be from your +sister in Newhaven, I reckon." + +<p>Miss Hepzibah took the black-edged letter coolly in her hand, eyed it +stolidly for a second, and then laid it on the table. "Sit down a +minute, Ebenezer, an' I'll bring ye a glass of cider," she said. + +<p>And Ebenezer saw her depart to the larder nothing loath. But if he +thought Miss Hepsy meant to open the letter and confide its contents +to him he was mistaken, for she pushed it aside and went on with her +ironing. So after being briefly rested and refreshed, he went his +way, bidding her a surly good-afternoon. Still the letter lay +untouched upon the table till the last collar was hung on the horse, +the irons set on the flags to cool, and the blanket folded in the +dresser. Then Miss Hepsy broke the seal, and read without change of +expression what ought to have been a sorrowful intimation to her, the +news of the death of her younger and only sister, who had married and +been left a widow in Newhaven. But before Miss Hepsy had read to the +end, her expression <i><b>did</b></i> change, and she exclaimed, "Wal, if this +ain't about the humbugginest fix. Hetty's boy and gal got to come +here—nowhere else to go. Wonder what Josh'll say?" + +<p>Miss Hepsy sat down, and, crossing her long hands on her lap, +remained deep in thought till the old clock struck again, five this +time. Then she sprang to her feet, whisked the letter into the table +drawer, and fetching out baking-board and flour-basin, proceeded to +make dough for a supper cake. It was barely ready when her brother +came in at six, and he looked slightly surprised to see no signs of +the supper on the table. + +<p>"I've had a letter from Newhaven, Josh," Miss Hepsy said abruptly. +"Hetty's dead; you won't be surprised to hear, I suppose. It's from +her minister; and he says you've got to come up right away and see +about things, an' fetch back the boy and gal with you. They've got +nowhere else to go, he says, an' we're their nearest kinsfolk. I got +thinkin' it over, and forgot my work, like a fool." + +<p>Joshua Strong's grim face grew grimmer, if possible, as he listened +to his sister's words. He reached out his hand for the letter she had +taken from the drawer, and slowly spelt it to the end. + +<p>"There ain't anything for it but grin and bear it, Hepsy," he said. +"Though I don't see what business folks has marryin' an' dyin' an' +leavin' their children to poor folks to keep. It'll be a mighty +difference to expense havin' other two mouths to feed an' backs to +clothe." + +<p>"An' what I'm to make of two fine gentry children, as Hetty's are +sure to be, round all the time, I don't know," said Miss Hepsy, +whisking off a griddle cake with unnecessary vigour. "I declare Hetty +might have had more sense than think we could do with 'em. I'm rare +upset about it, I can tell ye." + +<p>"It doesn't say what she died o'," said Joshua meditatively, twirling +the letter in his brown fingers. + +<p>"Died o'?" repeated Miss Hepsy tartly. "Why, of pinin' arter that +husband o' her'n. What's her fine scholar done for her now, I wonder? +Left her a lone widder to die off and leave penniless children to +other folks to keep. But I'll warrant they'll work for their meat at +Thankful Rest. I'll have no stuck-up idle notions here." + +<p>"How am I to get to Newhaven jes' now, I'd like to know," said +Joshua, "and all that corn waitin' to be stacked? It's clean beyond +me." + +<p>Miss Hepsy thought a moment. "I have it. Miss Goldthwaite was here +to-day, an' she said the parson was goin' to Newhaven to-morrow to +stay a day or two. We'll get him to see to things an' bring the +children down. I'll go to Pendlepoint whenever I've got my supper, +an' ask him. Here, ask the grace quick an' let's be hurryin'," she +said; and before the few mumbled words had fallen from Joshua's lips, +Miss Hepsy was well through with her first cup of tea! + +<p>At that moment, in a darkened chamber in a quiet city street, two +orphan children clung to each other weeping, wondering fearfully to +see so white, and cold, and still, the sweet face which had been wont +to smile upon them as only a mother can. + +<p>They wept, but the days were at hand when they would realize more +bitterly than now what they had lost, and how utterly they were left +alone.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="2">II.</a><br> +<br> +THE PARSONAGE.</center> +<br> +<p>In the pleasant front parlour of the parsonage at Pendlepoint, the +Rev. Frank Goldthwaite and his sister were lingering over their +tea-table. He was a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, with an +open kindly face, and grave thoughtful eyes, which yet at times could +sparkle with merriment as bright as that which so often shone in his +sister's blue orbs. A bright, winsome, lovable maiden was Carrie +Goldthwaite, the very joy of her brother's heart, and the apple of +every eye in the township. The brother and sister were deeply +attached to each other, the fact that they were separated from their +father's happy home in New York drawing them the more closely +together. They had been talking of Mr. Goldthwaite's projected visit +on the morrow, and he had at last succeeded in repeating faithfully +all the commissions his sister wished him to execute, when the +swinging of the garden gate, and a firm tread on the gravel, made +Miss Goldthwaite rise and peep behind the curtain. + +<p>"It's Miss Hepsy, Frank," she said with a very broad smile; +"something very important must it be which brings her here. I don't +think she has been to the parsonage since the day we came." + +<p>The next moment Miss Goldthwaite's "help" ushered in Miss Hepsy +Strong, attired in a shawl of brilliant hues and a marvellous bonnet. +She dropped a courtesy to the parson, and sat down on the extreme +edge of the chair Miss Goldthwaite offered her, declining, at the +same time, her offer of a cup of tea. Evidently, Miss Hepsy was not +used to company manners. + +<p>"I've made bold to come down to-night, sir," she said, fixing her +keen eyes on Mr. Goldthwaite's pleasant face, "knowin' you was goin' +to Newhaven to-morrow, to ask if you would do Josh and me a +kindness." + +<p>"If I can, Miss Strong," returned the minister courteously, "be sure +I shall be very glad to do so." + +<p>"You've heard tell, I reckon," said Miss Hepsy, "of our sister Hetty +as married the schoolmaster in Newhaven?" + +<p>Mr. Goldthwaite nodded. + +<p>"Well, she's dead," continued Miss Hepsy with a business-like +stolidity inexplicable to Carrie Goldthwaite's warm heart, "an' she's +left two children, which Josh an' me'll hev to take, I reckon, seein' +their parents is both dead now. We'd a letter to-day from the +minister there—Mr. Penn he calls hisself, I think." + +<p>"Yes, I know him," put in Mr. Goldthwaite. + +<p>"He wants Josh to come up right away, which he can't possibly do an' +the corn not in the barn yet. A day's worth so many dollars jes' now, +an' can't be throwed away. Now, sir, will ye be so kind as to see to +things at Hetty's, an' fetch the children with you when ye come back? +It'll be a great favour to Josh and me." + +<p>The minister concealed what he thought, and answered courteously that +he should do his best. Then Miss Hepsy rose and shook out her green +skirts. + +<p>"The address is Fifteenth Street, sir, an' Hetty's name was Hurst. I +reckon ye'll find it easy enough. That's all; I'll be goin' now.—No, +thanks, Miss Goldthwaite, I can't sit down; it's 'most milking time, +and if Keziah's left to do it herself, there's no saying what might +happen.—So, good evenin', and thank ye, sir;" and before the brother +and sister recovered from their amazement, Miss Hepsy had whisked out +of the room, and the next minute her firm, man-like tread broke upon +their ears again. Mr. Goldthwaite looked at his sister with a comical +smile, which was answered by a peal of laughter from her sweet lips. + +<p>"I can't help it indeed, Frank," she said. "I am so sorry for the +poor children, bereft of both parents. Their mother was a refined, +gentle creature, too, I have been told; of a different mould from +Miss Hepsy. The calmness, though, to ask you to do all this simply +because Joshua is too hard to spare a day's labour! Are you doing +altogether right, Frank, I wonder, in taking it off his hands?" + +<p>"I could not refuse it, Carrie," returned the minister. "Like you, I +am sorry for the poor little orphans. Their life will not be all +sunshine, I fear, at Thankful Rest." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite sighed, and from the open window watched in silence +Miss Hepsy's brilliant figure crossing the river by the bridge a +hundred yards beyond the parsonage gate. + +<p>"I think, Frank, that among all your parishioners there is not a more +unhappy pair than Joshua Strong and his sister. I wish they could be +made to see how differently God meant them to spend their lives. It +saddens me to see their hardness and sourness." + +<p>"Perhaps these little children may do them good, dear," returned the +minister gravely. "It would not be the first time God has used the +influence of little children to do what no other power on earth +could. We will pray it may be so." + +<p>"Yes," returned Carrie Goldthwaite; and the shade deepened on her +sweet face as she added again, "Poor little things! it will be a sore +change from the tender care of a mother. We must do what we can, +Frank, to make their home at Thankful Rest as happy as possible. We +had such a happy one ourselves, I feel an intense pity for those who +have not. There is Judge Keane on horseback at the gate. He wants +either you or me to go out and speak with him." + +<p>The minister rose, and both stepped out to the veranda, and down the +steps to the garden. The judge had alighted, and fastening his bridle +to the gate-post, came up the path to meet them. He was an old man, +with white hair and beard; but his fine figure was as erect and +stately as it had been a quarter of a century before. He shook hands +cordially with the minister, touched Carrie Goldthwaite's brow with +his lips, and then said, in a brisk, cheerful voice,— + +<p>"My wife heard you were going to Newhaven for a couple of days, and +sent me down to say she would expect you, miss," (he nodded to +Carrie,) "at the Red House to-morrow, to stay till he comes back. I +may say yes, I suppose?" + +<p>"Yes, and thank you, Judge Keane," said Miss Goldthwaite with a +little grateful smile. "Even with Abbie's company, it is very dull +when Frank is away. Won't you come in?" + +<p>The judge shook his head, and turned to the gate again. "Not +to-night, my dear. Good-night, and good-bye, Frank." + +<p>"Have you no commissions, judge?" asked the minister. "I shall have +plenty of time at my disposal; my own business is very little." + +<p>"No, I think not," returned the judge. "But, let me see." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite moved to the gate, and laid her hand caressingly on +Beauty's glossy neck. + +<p>"I only envy you one thing, Judge Keane," she said; "and this is it. +What a beauty she is!" + +<p>The judge laughed, and his eyes lingered on the slim, girlish figure +in its dainty muslin garb; and on the sweet, unclouded face, which +was a true index to the happy heart within. + +<p>"Beauty shall be yours by-and-by," he laughed; and a swift wave of +colour swept across her face, and she hid it in the animal's glossy +mane.—"Safe journey, Frank. Come to the Red House for your sister +when you want her.—Steady, Beauty." He sprang to the saddle, and +held out his hand to Carrie. + +<p>"I'm glad you've said yes, my dear," he whispered, with a mischievous +twinkle in his gray eyes, "or a certain young man would have thought +nothing of coming to take you by main force. Shall I tell him of that +sweet blush? Or—" + +<p>But Miss Goldthwaite had fled, and Beauty flew off like an arrow.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="3">III.</a><br> +<br> +THE ARRRIVAL.</center> +<br> +<p>On Friday morning, Miss Hepsy received a brief note from Mr. +Goldthwaite, stating that he had attended the funeral of Mrs. Hurst, +paid the little she had owed in Newhaven, and would be at Pendlepoint +by the noon cars that day, when he requested Miss Hepsy to be in +waiting at the depot to meet her nephew and niece. + +<p>Now, Friday was Miss Hepsy's cleaning day. Although ordinary eyes +would have been puzzled to point out what spot in that shining domain +required more than the touch of a duster, the house was upturned from +ceiling to basement, and received such sweeping and dusting and +polishing, such scouring and scrubbing, that it was a marvel Miss +Hepsy was not exhausted at the end of it. She had just turned out the +parlour chairs into the lobby, and was busy with broom and dust-pan, +sweeping up invisible dust, when Ebenezer brought her Mr. +Goldthwaite's letter. So much did it upset her, that he had to depart +without his glass of cider, for she took no more notice of him than +if he had been one of the pillars at the door. It was eleven o'clock +almost; it would take her every moment to dress and be at the depot +in time; so she had to set the chairs back into the half-swept room, +replace her working garb by the green dress and the plaid shawl, take +her blue umbrella and trudge off, leaving the management of the +dinner to Keziah. Her frame of mind as she did so augured ill for the +welcome of her sister's children. + +<p>The cars were half an hour late, and Miss Hepsy strode up and down +the platform in a ferment of wrath and impatience, thinking of the +dinner under awkward Keziah's supervision; of the sweeping and +dusting and baking all to be done in the afternoon; of the bother two +strange children were sure to be; of a hundred and one things, which +brought her temper up to fever heat by the time the train puffed into +the depot. From the window of a first-class compartment two faces +looked out eagerly, but failed to recognize in Miss Hepsy the sister +of the dear dead mother they had so lately lost. Miss Hepsy saw Mr, +Goldthwaite step out first, followed by a tall, handsome-looking boy, +well dressed and refined-looking, who in his turn assisted with care +and tenderness a slight, delicate-looking girl, who bore such a +strong resemblance to her dead mother that her aunt had no difficulty +in recognizing her. She stamped forward, nodded to Mr. Goldthwaite, +and held out a hand in turn to each of the children. + +<p>"I'm tired to death waitin' on these pesky cars," she said, +addressing herself to Mr. Goldthwaite. "I hope they've behaved +themselves, sir, an' not bothered ye.—Bless me, children, don't +stare at me so; I'm your Aunt Hepzibah. You look as if you had never +seen a woman afore." + +<p>"There is a trunk, Miss Hepsy," said Mr. Goldthwaite, unable to help +an amused smile playing about his mouth. "You will need to send a +cart for it.—They have been very good children indeed, and instead +of bothering, have greatly helped to make my journey enjoyable." + +<p>"I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure," said Miss Hepsy, looking very much +as if she was not glad at all. "Well, I guess we'd better be +movin'.—What's your name, boy?" she said, turning to the lad with an +abruptness which made him start. + +<p>"My name is Tom, aunt," he answered promptly; "this is Lucy." +"Miss Hetty might have called one of ye after her own kin.—Well, +good-day, Mr. Goldthwaite; I guess Josh'll walk down to the parsonage +at night an' pay up.—Come along." + +<p>"Good-bye, Tom, good-bye, Lucy, in the meantime," said the minister +kindly. "We shall see each other often, I fancy." + +<p>"Oh, sir, I hope so," said Lucy, speaking for the first time. "You +have been so kind to us when we had nobody else." Her dark eyes +suddenly overflowed, and she turned away to follow her aunt, while +Tom, whistling to vent some strong feeling, went on in front. + +<p>Miss Hepsy walked as if for a wager, and never opened her mouth once, +until they stood upon the threshold of Thankful Rest. + +<p>"Now, look here; this is yer home," she said; then, fixing grim eyes +alternately on their faces, "an' I hope ye'll behave, an' show yer +gratitude for it. That's all.—I bet Keziah's burned the soup;" with +which words Miss Hepsy burst into the kitchen, ready to extinguish +the unfortunate "help" if everything was not up to the mark. The +brother and sister lingered a moment on the threshold, feeling new +and strange and sad, their welcome had been so disappointing. + +<p>"Lucy," said Tom Hurst suddenly, "do you believe that woman's mamma's +sister? I don't." + +<p>"Of course she is," returned Lucy. "And you must not call her 'that +woman,' Tom; she is our aunt, mamma's sister, you know, and we must +behave, she says." + +<p>Tom made a wry face. "I don't feel like behaving any," he said. "But +I say, Lucy, isn't this a prime place?" + +<p>Lucy's eyes beamed as they looked round the pretty, peaceful +homestead, with its laden orchard, wealth of flowers and glorious +summer beauty. But she did not answer. + +<p>"We'd better go in, I suppose, though we weren't asked," said Tom. "I +wonder if it's near dinner-time; I'm famished." + +<p>He pushed open the door, and, followed by Lucy, entered the +wide-bricked kitchen. A sudden change had taken place in Aunt Hepsy's +appearance. In the twinkling of an eye she had donned her working +garb again, and was paring potatoes at the table. Fortunately, the +dinner had progressed satisfactorily during her absence. + +<p>"Come in and sit down," she said, pointing to the settle at the fire. +"Ye'll be hungry, I reckon; but it'll soon be dinner-time. I don't +approve of eating 'tween meals.—I guess you never did any of this +kind o' work, Lucy?" + +<p>"No, Aunt Hepsy," returned Lucy timidly. "I've seen Hannah do it; +that was our girl." + +<p>"Humph; ye won't be long here before ye can pare potatoes as well as +Hannah. You'll be willin' to learn, I hope?" + +<p>"I shall do my best, Aunt Hepsy," returned the girl meekly. + +<p>"Mamma never pared potatoes, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom boldly. + +<p>"No; I know she didn't, boy," said Miss Hepsy severely. "Your mother +was as useless as a bit o' Sunday china.—I hope you won't be like +her, Lucy." + +<p>"I hope she will, Aunt Hepsy," spoke up Tom again. "Mamma was +perfectly splendid, everybody said." + +<p>"You'd better go outside, boy," said Miss Hepsy wrathfully, "till you +learn to speak respectfully to your aunt. I know what your mother +was. She was my own sister, I hope." + +<p>Tom caught up his cap and fled, nothing loath; his aunt irritated +him, and made him forget himself. + +<p>"How old are you, child?" said Miss Hepsy, turning to Lucy, after a +moment's silence. + +<p>"I am fourteen past, Aunt Hepsy; Tom is twelve." + +<p>Miss Hepsy dropped her paring-knife and stared. + +<p>"Bless me, child, you don't look more'n nine, and that great boy +looks years older'n you. What have ye fed on?" + +<p>Lucy smiled faintly. "I have not been very strong this summer, Aunt +Hepsy; and I was so anxious about mamma being so poorly. I couldn't +sleep at nights, nor eat anything hardly. I suppose that's what made +me thin." Miss Hepsy sniffed. + +<p>"Have any of ye been to school?" was her next question. + +<p>"No, Aunt Hepsy. Papa taught us till he died, and then mamma kept up +our lessons as well as she could. Tom is a good scholar; and, oh, +such a beautiful painter!" + +<p>"Painter!" echoed Miss Hepsy. "What, fence rails and gates?" + +<p>Lucy looked very much shocked. "Oh no; he draws landscapes and +things, and went to the Art School as long as mamma could afford it. +Then he practised at home. He means to be a great painter some day, +like the ones he read about." + +<p>"Humph!" said Miss Hepsy contemptuously. "I guess his uncle'll find +him work in painting the farm an' the gates afresh this fall. It'll +save a man. Now then, there's them taters on. Come upstairs an' I'll +show you your room." + +<p>Lucy rose at once, and obediently followed her aunt along the wide +flagged passage and up the polished oak steps to a tiny little +chamber in the attic fiat. It was poorly furnished, but it was +scrupulously clean; and from the window Lucy's delighted eyes caught +a glimpse of the broad green meadow, the shining water of the river, +and beyond, the houses of the town nestling in the shadow of the +giant slopes of Pendle Peak. + +<p>"Your brother's room is on t'other side o' the landing," explained +Miss Hepsy; "an' I'll 'spect you to keep 'em both as clean's a new +pin. I'm mighty partickler, mind, an' can't abide untidiness. An' if +yer mother's brought ye up to think yersel' a lady, the sooner ye get +rid of that notion the better, 'cos yell have to work here; we don't +keep no idle hands. Get off your hat an' cape now, an' come down as +fast's ye like, an' help set the table for dinner." + +<p>Miss Hepsy then whisked out of the room, and clattered down the +stairs in haste. + +<p>Lucy moved to the window recess, and stood looking upon the peace and +beauty without, until her eyes were brimming with tears. Then she +knelt down by the side of the bed, sobbing pitifully, "Mamma, mamma! +come back, O dear mamma! we have nobody on earth but you!"</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="4">IV.</a><br> +<br> +THE NEW HOME.</center> +<br> +<p>Meanwhile Tom had gone on an exploring expedition. He investigated +every outhouse and shed, frightened the geese and turkeys into fits +by rushing through their paddock shouting at the pitch of his voice, +caught the superannuated mule by the tail, and made her fly off like +a four-year old, made friends with the savage watch-dog on the chain, +coaxed the pigeons to fly to him, and finally went off to the fields +in search of his uncle. On the road outside the farmyard gate he met +a team, driven by a big uncouth-looking man, dressed in coarse +trowsers, a red shirt, and a battered straw hat. + +<p>"You'll be one of the men, I guess," said Tom, stopping in front of +him. "Can you tell me where my Uncle Joshua is?" + +<p>The man grinned. "Air you Hetty's boy, youngster?" + +<p>"I'm Mrs. Hurst's son," corrected Tom proudly. "Who are you?" + +<p>"If I'm not yer Uncle Josh, I reckon he ain't be home terday," +returned the man.—"Hi! up, Sally; you and me's not fit company, I +guess, for a city gent." + +<p>"If you <i><b>are</b></i> Uncle Joshua, I beg your pardon I'm sure," said Tom +with his usual frankness. "Won't you shake hands, Uncle Joshua?" + +<p>Uncle Joshua took the thin, delicate hand in his own brown palm, and +looked at it curiously. + +<p>"Jes' as Hepsy said—Hetty's boy's more for ornament than use. Well, +youngster, now you're here ye'll work for yer bread, I hope. We're +poor folks here, an' can't keep idle hands. Ye'll hev to learn to +mind a team like this." + +<p>"I wouldn't mind if I'd a better horse, Uncle Josh," said Tom, +walking alongside of his uncle, and eying the hungry-looking steed +critically. "See his ribs. Don't you feed him ever, Uncle Josh?" + +<p>The man's face flushed angrily. "Shut up, younker!" he said savagely. +"Don't speak about things ye know nothing about." + +<p>Tom walked on a minute or two in silence, but in no way disconcerted. + +<p>"This is a very nice place, Uncle Josh," he said. "Mamma often told +us about it, but it's prettier than I thought it would be." + +<p>"The place'll do, I reckon," admitted Uncle Josh. "But farmin' ain't +what it was. It's a hard job gettin' meat an' drink out o'd +now-a-days." + +<p>"Mamma told us you were rich," said Tom in surprise. "But you can't +be, because—because—" + +<p>"Wal?" said Uncle Josh, with a slow, stupid smile. + +<p>"Because your horses are all thin, and <i><b>you</b></i> wear these clothes; and +Aunt Hepsy doesn't dress like a lady. Rich people don't live so." + +<p>"You're a fool, youngster. Just your mother over again. You don't +know, I suppose, that to save money folks must live cheap, an' not be +all outside show. Ye'll learn better, maybe, afore ye've been long at +Thankful Rest,—Hi, Sally! Whoa, lass." + +<p>The thin, wretched-looking horse stood still, thankful to be released +from the heavy waggon; and Tom watched all his uncle's movements with +much interest. He followed him from the yard to the stable, saw him +give the five horses a scanty feed of corn and a pail of water. + +<p>"We'll go and hev a bite o' dinner now," he said; then, "Your +sister'll be indoors, I guess?" + +<p>Tom nodded, and the two proceeded to the house. Lucy was downstairs +by this time, awkwardly placing knives, forks, and plates on the +table, under Miss Hepsy's directions. A glad smile crept to her eyes +at sight of Tom; it seemed ages since he had gone out. She looked +timidly at her uncle as he shook hands with her, remarking she was a +pale-faced thing, and needed work and exercise to make her spry. Then +the company sat down, and Tom, if Lucy did not, did ample justice to +Miss Hepsy's cookery. It was an unsociable, uncomfortable meal. Aunt +and uncle ate, as they did everything else, as if for a wager, and +were finished before Lucy had touched her meat and potatoes. + +<p>"Look spry, child," said her aunt, beginning to clear away almost +immediately. "You'll ha' to learn to eat to some purpose. Time don't +last for ever." + +<p>Lucy pushed back her unfinished plateful and rose. + +<p>"Not dainty enough for ye, is it not?" was the next remark. "Ye'll +eat it by-and-by maybe." + +<p>"I'm not hungry, Aunt Hepsy," she said with quivering lips; and Tom +bit his to keep back angry words surging to them. + +<p>"May I go out for a little, Aunt Hepsy?" Lucy asked. + +<p>"When you've wiped them dishes you may," replied Aunt Hepsy. "I lost +two good hours goin' to that plaguy depot for you, so the least ye +can do is to help me through.—Josh, find summat for the boy to do; +'tain't no use hevin' him 'round idle lookin' for mischief." + +<p>"Come along to the barn then, What's-yer-name," said Uncle Josh, +picking up his hat and sauntering to the door.—"Don't be too hard on +that little 'un, Hepsy; she don't look over strong." + +<p>"Mind yer own business, will ye, Josh Strong," was Miss Hepsy's smart +rejoinder. "I guess I'm able to mind mine." + +<p>Under Miss Hepsy's directions, Lucy succeeded in washing up the +dishes without disaster, and was then requested to come to the far +parlour and receive a lesson in sweeping and dusting. Then baking +came on, and with one thing and another Miss Hepsy managed to keep +the child within doors and on her feet till past four o'clock. She +was fainting with fatigue, but would not complain, and Miss Hepsy was +too busy to observe the pallor on her face. + +<p>"May I sit down for a minute, please?" she said at last, after +bringing a huge can of flour from the larder. "I am afraid I am going +to faint, Aunt Hepsy;" and she looked like enough it, as she sank +wearily on the settle, and let her white lids droop over her tired +eyes. + +<p>Miss Hepsy was more than annoyed. "A delicate child above all +humbugs," she muttered, as she sprinkled a few drops of spring water +on the girl's face, and held her smelling-salts to her nostrils. + +<p>"Ye'd better go out an' get a mouthful of fresh air, I suppose," she +said ungraciously when Lucy rose at last, with a faint touch of +returning colour in her cheeks. + +<p>And Lucy gladly went upstairs for her hat, and crept out into the +beautiful sunshine. The garden gate was locked, but she managed to +turn the key, and went slowly, in a maze of delight, along the trim +paths, past beds of roses, hollyhocks, pansies, and sweet-scented +gilly-flowers. The orchard beyond looked tempting indeed, where the +sunbeams glistened through the bending boughs of apple, plum, and +cherry trees, on the soft carpet of grass beneath. She managed to +unfasten the gate there too, and choosing a wide-spreading +apple-tree, from which she could see the meadow and the river, flung +herself on the grass beneath it. There she fell asleep, and Tom found +her an hour after. His fine face looked worried and discontented, and +he flung himself beside her, saying gloomily,— + +<p>"How on earth I am to live here, Lucy Hurst, I don't know." + +<p>"What is it, Tom?" inquired she, forgetting her own troubles in +sympathy for him. + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Josh, that's all. He hasn't any patience with me, and +makes me speak up impertinently to him. And the things they say about +mamma are perfectly shameful. I won't bear it now, I won't." + +<p>His sister's gentle hand touched his lips to stem the passionate +words. + +<p>"You remember, Tom," she said softly, "what mamma said to us. We were +to endure all such little trials, remembering that it is God who +sends them. Think how grieved she would be if she could hear us +grumbling so soon." + +<p>"I don't care; I can't help it," said the boy recklessly. "It isn't +anything for you to be good, Lucy; you are just like mamma—a kind of +saint, I think. For me it is just a long battle all day. If a fellow +conquered in the end, it would not matter; but as it is—O Lucy, +Lucy! why did mamma die? It was so easy to be happy and good when we +had her to love and help us. I wish I were dead too." + +<p>Poor, proud, passionate Tom! His sister could only put her gentle arm +about his neck and cry too, her heart so sorely re-echoed the painful +longing in his voice. + +<p>So the first day at Thankful Rest did not promise very brightly for +Tom and Lucy Hurst.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="5">V.</a><br> +<br> +SUNDAY</center> +<br> +<p>Saturday was the busiest day in the week at Thankful Rest. There was +churning to be done, extra cooking for Sunday, mending and darning, +and the weekly polishing of every bit of brass, and copper, and tin +in the establishment. Lucy rubbed at them till her arms ached, +without bringing them to the required height of brightness, and was +at last sent off to pick the few remaining gooseberries for a tart. +That was a piece of work much more to her liking, and she lingered so +long out in the sunshine that Aunt Hepsy came at last, and scolded +her long and shrilly; which took all the enjoyment away. Tom received +his lessons from Uncle Josh outside; and, judging from his face when +he came in at dinner-time, he had not found them particularly +agreeable. Tom Hurst was a dainty youth, in fact, and shrank from +soiling his fingers with the tasks allotted to him: and seeing that +grim Uncle Josh had not spared him, the forenoon had been one long +battle; for, try as he might, Tom could not keep a bridle on his +tongue. + +<p>"I guess I'll hev a pesky deal o' trouble with that young 'un, +Hepsy," his uncle said that night when the children had gone to bed. +"He doesn't take to farm work; an' he's that peart I durstn't speak +to him. Queer thing if we've got to keep the young upstart in +idleness." + +<p>"Idleness!" quoth Miss Hepsy wrathfully. "I'd take a rope's end to +him if he didn't keep a civil tongue in his head. The gal's bad +enough; though she never speaks back she looks at me that proud-like +wi' them great eyes o' her'n, I feel as if I'd like to shake her. +There'll never be a day's peace now they've come." + +<p>"Tell ye what, though, Hepsy," said Josh. "I'm gwine to pay off +Brahm, an' make Tom do his work. He ain't that much younger, an' he +looks strong enough! Couldn't you do without Keziah, and that would +square expenses?" + +<p>"I'll see how the child turns out in a week or so. She's a pinin' +thing—doesn't eat enough to keep a mouse alive." + +<p>"It's a thankless thing, any way ye like to take it, Hepsy, hevin' +other folks' youngsters round. I don't see why we should be bothered +with 'em;" with which remark Josh went to bed. + +<p>Lucy awoke next morning, remembering it was Sunday, with a feeling of +gladness that they might perhaps chance to see their friend Mr. +Goldthwaite at church. The Strongs were regular as clock-work in +their half-day attendance at the meeting-house. The morn'ng was +devoted to feeding cattle, pigs, and poultry, and tidying up the +house; and after dinner the premises were left in charge of Brahm and +Keziah, and the master and mistress turned their footsteps towards +Pendlepoint. The meeting-house was almost close to the parsonage, and +was a pretty, primitive structure, with no attempt at display or +decoration, and yet so pleasant and homelike inside that Lucy felt a +sense of rest as her eyes wandered round it. Tom nudged her and +whispered, "Nice little chapel, Lucy;" at which Miss Hepsy held up a +warning finger and shook her head. Tom blushed and laughed, Aunt +Hepsy looked so intensely comical. Then she became very red in the +face, and opening her hymn-book, kept her eyes on its pages till Mr. +Goldthwaite came in. His eyes travelled straight to the Strongs' pew, +and Lucy thought she saw a kindly gleam of recognition in his eyes. +Carrie was at the harmonium. She, too, looked once or twice in their +direction; and both children found her face so sweet and pleasant +that they could not lift their eyes off it. The chapel was full, and +the singing of the hymn was so hearty and so sweet, that Lucy felt +her eyes dim, she could not tell why. But it seemed to remind her of +her mother. + +<p>Mr. Goldthwaite preached only half an hour; but his sermon was so +beautiful and comforting, and so easily understood, that Lucy thought +Sunday would recompense her for all the troubles of the week. Tom's +eyes never left Mr. Goldthwaite's earnest face, and I believe that +the memory of his words remained with the boy for weeks after. He had +never heard a sermon in his life he had understood and <i><b>felt</b></i> like +this one. Uncle Josh snored rather noisily in the corner, and Aunt +Hepsy nodded occasionally over her Bible—the minister's message did +not even reach their ears. + +<p>When the service was over and they reached the church porch, they +found Miss Goldthwaite standing there. She had a nod and a smile for +every one, but her particular mission was with Tom and Lucy. She +shook hands with the uncle and aunt, and then bent her sweet eyes on +the children's faces. + +<p>"These be Hetty's children, Miss Goldthwaite," said Miss Hepsy. "Lucy +and Tom." + +<p>"Yes, I know," nodded Miss Goldthwaite. "I came round to see them. I +want them to take tea with me to-day, at my brother's special +request." + +<p>Miss Hepsy did not look at all delighted. "They'll jes' bother ye, +Miss Goldthwaite," said she; "an' besides, 'taint no use visitin' on +Sundays—I don't like it." + +<p>"It's hardly visiting, Miss Hepsy," said the young lady in the same +pleasant voice. "And when they are at Pendlepoint you may as well let +them. We will bring them safely home. Come now, Miss Hepsy, you know +nobody ever refuses me anything." + +<p>"Let them bide, Hepsy," said Uncle Josh, remembering what trouble and +expense the minister had spared him, and not wishing to appear so +unmindful of it. "I guess they won't come to no harm at the +parson's." + +<p>So Miss Hepsy was forced to grant a reluctant consent, and Miss +Carrie bore off the happy children in triumph. At the parsonage gate +Mr. Goldthwaite joined them, and gave them both a hearty welcome. +Even shy Lucy was at her ease immediately with Miss Carrie; for who +could resist that bright, caressing manner, and those beaming, loving +eyes? She carried Lucy off to her own pretty room to take off her +hat, and kept her there talking and showing her the beautiful view +from the window till Mr. Goldthwaite had to call to them to come to +tea. What a pleasant meal it was, and how the little company enjoyed +themselves. Then, when it was over, Mr. Goldthwaite took Tom to the +garden, and drew him on to talk of himself, of his hopes and +ambitions, and sympathized so heartily and cheerfully with him that +Tom began to think it was worth while coming to Thankful Rest, if for +nothing else than this pleasant hour at the parsonage. Meanwhile +Carrie had opened the piano, and sang low and softly one or two +hymns; and when she looked round, wondering why Lucy had moved from +her side, she saw her on the sofa with her face hidden. She rose, and +sitting down beside her, put her arm about her, and whispered +gently,— + +<p>"My poor child, what is it?" + +<p>"Mamma, Miss Goldthwaite," sobbed Lucy. "She used always to sing to +us on Sunday evenings just so, and it makes me feel dreadful to think +she never will any more." + +<p>"Yes, Lucy, I understand," said Carrie; and the very sound of her +voice soothed the child's troubled heart. "But you know who has +promised to comfort the mourning heart if we will but ask Him? Our +God is 'the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort.'" + +<p>A quick smile broke through Lucy's tears. "If it were not for that, +Miss Goldthwaite," she said simply, "I should have died when mamma +did." + +<p>"And just think, dear," went on the sweet voice, "of the glad time +coming when we shall all meet, please God, in a happier world than +this. We shall not remember these sad hours then, shall we, Lucy? I +know, my dear, how lonely and sad and strange you feel here now; but +God can make us happy anywhere." + +<p>"Yes, Miss Carrie, I know it," returned the child simply and +earnestly; "only I am so troubled sometimes about Tom. Mamma was +often troubled about him too. He is so passionate and quick and +proud. Oh, I don't know how he is to get on with Uncle Joshua and +Aunt Hepsy!" + +<p>"We will hope for the best," said Miss Carrie cheerfully; "and +by-and-by, perhaps, a way may be opened up for him to get his heart's +desire.—Would you like to see my pets, Lucy? I have chickens, and +pigeons, and dogs, and kittens, and all sorts of things. Frank says +the yard is a menagerie." + +<p>"Yes, I would like it very much. There are some pretty chickens and +kittens at Aunt Hepsy's, but she won't let me pet them." + +<p>In the delight of examining Miss Goldthwaite's menagerie sadder +thoughts flew, and the evening sped on golden wings. The time came at +last for the two to bid a regretful good-bye to the parsonage and +turn their faces homewards. The minister and his sister accompanied +them half across the meadow, and bade them good-night, with many +promises of future meetings. + +<p>Tom and Lucy walked on in silence till they reached the paddock, and +then the lad said abruptly, "It will not be so hard to live here, +Lucy, if we can see them sometimes. I don't believe there's another +minister like Mr. Goldthwaite in the State; nor another minister's +sister either." + +<p>Lucy smiled, her heart re-echoing her brother's words. + +<p>"I have not felt so happy since mamma died," she said softly. "O Tom, +is it not true what she used to say—'That God gives us something to +be grateful for everywhere'?" + +<p>"Yes," said Tom soberly; and the next moment Aunt Hepsy's tall figure +appeared at the kitchen door, and her shrill voice broke the pleasant +Sabbath calm. + +<p>"Here, come in, you two. Air you going to stand there all night? It's +'most nine o'clock—time you were in bed. I guess you won't go +visitin' on Sunday any more."</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="6">VI.</a><br> +<br> +LOSING HOLD OF THE BRIDLE.</center> +<br> +<p>It had rained all day, and not all that day only, but the best part +of the one before. Not a soft, gentle summer rain, but a fierce, wild +storm, which beat the poor flowers to the earth, spoiled the fruit, +and overflowed the river till half the meadow lay under water. There +was plenty of work in the barn for Uncle Josh and the men, and plenty +in the house for Aunt Hepsy and the girls. The scullery was full of +wet clothes waiting on a dry day. That of itself, not to speak of the +damage to the orchard, was sufficient to make Aunt Hepsy a very +disagreeable person to live with while the storm lasted. Her tongue +went from early morning till afternoon, scolding alternately at Lucy +and Keziah. The latter was a stolid being, on whom her mistress's +talking made no impression; but it made Lucy nervous and awkward, and +her work was very badly done indeed. At three o'clock Aunt Hepsy sent +her to wash her face, and gave her a long side of a sheet to hem. So +Lucy was sitting on the settle, with a very grave and +sorrowful-looking face, when Tom came in at four. His uncle had no +need of him just then, and had sent him to the house to be out of the +way. Keziah was feeding the calves, and Aunt Hepsy upstairs dressing, +if that word can be appropriately applied to the slight change her +toilet underwent in the afternoon. Tom sat down at the table in the +window, and leaning his arms upon it, looked out gloomily on the +desolate garden, over which the chill, wet mist hung like a pall. +Neither spoke for several minutes. + +<p>"How do you get on now, Lucy?" asked Tom at length. "How sober you +look. Has she been worrying you?" + +<p>"I daresay I am very stupid," said Lucy low and quietly; "but when +Aunt Hepsy talks so loud I don't know what I am doing." + +Miss Hepsy entered at that moment, fortunately without having heard +Lucy's patient speech. "Don't lean your wet, dirty arms on the table, +boy," said she with a sharp glance at Tom. "If you must be in, sit on +your chair like a Christian." + +<p>Tom immediately sat up like a poker. + +<p>"What's yer uncle doin'?" was her next question. + +<p>"He's oiling waggon wheels," answered Tom, "and sent me in." + +<p>Miss Hepsy took out a very ugly piece of knitting from the +dresser-drawer, and sat down opposite Lucy. "It's a pity boys ain't +learned to sew and knit," she said grimly. "It would save a deal of +women's time doin' it for 'em. I think I'll teach you, Tom." + +<p>"No, thank you, Aunt Hepsy." + +<p>"You're much too smart with your tongue, young 'un," said Miss Hepsy +severely, and then relapsed into stolid silence. The click of her +knitting needles, the ticking of the clock, and the rain beating on +the panes, were the only sounds to be heard in the house. Tom drew a +half-sheet of paper and a pencil from his pocket, laid it on the +table, and kept his attention there for a few minutes. Lucy ventured +to cast her eyes in his direction, and he held up the paper to her. A +smile ran all over her face and finally ended in a laugh. Aunt Hepsy +looked round suspiciously to see Tom stuffing something into his +pocket. + +<p>"What were you laughing at, Lucy?" Lucy looked distressed and +answered nothing. + +<p>"What's that you're stuffing into your pocket, Tom?" she said, +turning her eagle eyes again on Tom. + +<p>"A bit paper, aunt, that's all." + +<p>"People don't laugh at common bits o' paper, nor go stuffin' em into +pockets like that. Hand it over." + +<p>"I'd rather not, Aunt Hepsy," said the boy. + +<p>"I rather you would," was her dry retort. "Out with it." + +<p>"It's mine, Aunt Hepsy, and you wouldn't care to see it." + +<p>"How many more times am I to say out with it?" she said angrily. +"I'll let you feel the weight of my hand if you don't look sharp." + +<p>"It's mine, Aunt Hepsy. I won't let you see it," he said doggedly. + +<p>Miss Hepsy's face grew very red, and she flung her knitting on the +rug and strode up to him. "Give me that paper." + +<p>"Well, there 'tis; I hope you like it. I wish I'd made it uglier," +cried he angrily, and flung the paper on the table. + +<p>Aunt Hepsy smoothed it out very deliberately, and held it up to the +light. It was a picture of herself, cleverly done, but highly +exaggerated, and the word <i><b>Scold</b></i> printed beneath it. Slowly the red +faded from her face and was replaced by a kind of purple hue. She +lifted her hand and brought it with full force on Tom's cheek. He +sprang to his feet quivering with rage, and pain, and humiliation. +His fierce temper was up, and Lucy trembled for what was to follow. +"Next time you make a fool o' me, boy," said Aunt Hepsy with a slow +smile, "perhaps ye'll get summat ye'll like even less than that." + +<p>Then the boy's anger found vent in words. "If you weren't a woman I'd +knock you down. I hate you, and I wish I'd died before I came to this +horrid place. It's worse than being a beggar living with such people. +You touch me again, and I'll give it you though you are a woman." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy took him by the shoulders and pushed him before her out to +the yard. "Ye'll be cool, I guess, afore I let ye in again," she said +briefly, and then came back to Lucy. + +<p>She was weeping with her face hidden and her work lying on the settle +beside her. + +<p>"Nice brother that of your'n," said Aunt Hepsy. "If he ain't growin' +up to be hanged, my name ain't Hepsy Strong. Here, go on with your +seam, an' don't be foolin' there." + +<p>Lucy silently obeyed, but Aunt Hepsy could not control her thoughts, +and they went pitifully out into the rain after Tom. He stood a +minute or two in a dazed way, and then hurried from the yard, through +the garden and the orchard to the meadow. In one little moment the +victory over temper he had won and kept for weeks was gone; and in +the shame and sorrow which followed, only one person could help him, +and that was Mr. Goldthwaite. There had been many quiet talks with +him since the first Sunday evening, and his lessons had sunk deep +into the boy's heart, and he had indeed been earnestly trying to make +the best of the life and work which had no interest nor sweetness for +him. As he sped through the long, wet grass, heedless of the rain +pelting on his uncovered head, he felt more wretched than he had ever +done in his life before. He had to wade ankle-deep to the bridge, but +fortunately did not encounter a living soul all the way to the +parsonage. Miss Goldthwaite was sewing in the parlour window, and +looked up in amazement to see a drenched, bareheaded boy coming up +the garden path. + +<p>"Why, Tom, it can't be you, is it?" she exclaimed when she opened the +door. "What is it? Nobody ill at Thankful Rest, I hope." + +<p>"No," said Tom. "It's only me; I want to see Mr. Goldthwaite." + +<p>"He has just gone out, but will not be many minutes," said Miss +Goldthwaite, more amazed than ever. "Come in and get dried, and take +tea with me; I was just thinking to have it alone." + +<p>Looking at Miss Goldthwaite in her dainty gray dress and spotless +lace collar and blue ribbons, Tom began to realize that he had done a +foolish thing coming to the parsonage to bother her with his soaking +garments. He would have run off, but Miss Carrie prevented him by +pulling him into the lobby and closing the door. Then she made him +come to the kitchen and remove his boots and jacket. "I have not a +coat to fit, so you'll need to sit in a shawl," laughed she; and the +sound was so infectious that, miserable though he was, Tom laughed +too. Miss Carrie knew perfectly there was a reason for his coming, +and that it would come out by-and-by without asking. So it did. They +had finished tea, and Tom was sitting on a stool at the fire just +opposite Miss Goldthwaite. There had been silence for a little while. + +<p>"I had a frightful row with Aunt Hepsy this afternoon, Miss +Goldthwaite." + +<p>"I am very sorry to hear it," answered she very gravely. "What was it +about?" + +<p>Then the whole story came out; and then Miss Carrie folded up her +work, and bent her sweet eyes on the boy's downcast, sorrowful face. +"I am not going to lecture you, Tom," she said soberly. "But I am +sorry my brave soldier should have been such a coward to-day." + +<p>Tom flung up his head a little proudly. "I am not a coward, Miss +Goldthwaite." + +<p>"Yes, Tom; you remember how Jesus stood all the buffeting and cruelty +of his persecutors, when he could so easily have smitten them all to +death if he had willed. Compare your petty trials with his, and think +how weak you have been." + +<p>Tom was silent. "When my temper is up, Miss Goldthwaite," he said at +length, "I don't care for anything or anybody, except to get it out +somehow. I was keeping so straight, too; I hadn't once answered back +to Uncle Josh or Aunt Hepsy for weeks. It's no use trying to be +good." + +<p>"No use? Why, Tom, if everybody gave up at the first stumble, what +would become of the world, do you think? Our life, you know, is +nothing but falling and rising again, and will be till we reach the +land where all these trials are over. Keep up a brave heart. Begin +again, and keep a double watch over self." + +<p>"I feel as if it would be easy enough to do it when I'm talking to +you or Mr. Goldthwaite, but at home it is different. I shall never be +able to get on with them though I live a hundred years. And O Miss +Goldthwaite, you don't know how I want to go on drawing and painting. +I feel as if I could die sometimes because I can't." + +<p>"When the time comes, dear; and it will come sooner, perhaps, than +you think," said Miss Carrie hopefully. "You will prize it all the +more because of this sharp discipline. Do your duty like a man, and +believe me, God will reward you for it one day." + +<p>"I will try, Miss Goldthwaite," said Tom with a new great earnestness +of face and voice. + +<p>"Now," said Miss Carrie then, with a quick, bright smile, "I'm going +to send you home. I don't mean to tell my brother anything about your +visit. Our talk is to be a secret. He would be so grieved that you +have come to grief again through that tongue of yours. And I hope it +will be a long time before its master loses hold of the bridle +again." She went with him to the kitchen and helped him to dress, and +then opened the door for him. "Now, Tom, you are to go home and tell +your aunt you are sorry for what happened this afternoon; because you +should not have spoken as you did. And remember, Tom, that a +soldier's first duty is obedience." And without giving him a chance +to demur, she nodded good-bye and ran into the house. + +<p>It was raining heavily still, but that Tom did not mind; he was +wondering how to frame his apology to his aunt, and how she would +receive it. + +<p>It was dark when he reached Thankful Rest, and the kitchen door was +barred. He knocked twice, and was answered at last by Aunt Hepsy, who +looked visibly relieved. Feeling that if he waited till he was in the +light his courage would flee, he said hurriedly,— + +<p>"I've been to the parsonage, Aunt Hepsy, and I want to tell you I'm +sorry I drew the picture and spoke to you as I did. If you'll forgive +me this time I won't be so rude again." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy looked slightly amazed. "Dear me, boy, I am thankful to +see ye home again; ye've gev Lucy a fever almost. See an' don't do it +again, that's all." And that was all Tom ever heard about the +afternoon's explosion.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="7">VII.</a><br> +<br> +THE RED HOUSE.</center> +<br> +<p>Judge Keane's place was a mile out of Pendlepoint. It was in the +opposite direction from Thankful Rest, and stood within its own +extensive grounds, at the base of the Peak. The house was built a +little way up the slope, and commanded a magnificent view of the +great plain and the river, whose silver thread was visible long after +all other objects receded from view. You have made the acquaintance +of the judge already; let us accompany Mr. Goldthwaite and his sister +to the Red House on a mild October evening, and make friends with the +rest of the family. When the minister and his sister were ushered +into Mrs. Keane's drawing-room, its only occupants were that lady and +her two daughters, Alice and Minnie. The former was a tall, stately +young lady, like her father, stiff and reserved to strangers, but +much liked by her friends, among whom Carrie Goldthwaite was the +chief. Minnie Keane was a bright-eyed, curly-haired maiden of +fifteen, wild as an antelope, and as full of fun and frolic as any +one of her pet kittens. Their mother was an invalid, seldom able to +leave her couch;—not a fretful invalid, you must understand, but a +sweet, gentle, unselfish woman, who bore her pain and weakness +without a murmur, so that those she loved might be spared pain on her +account. Mr. Goldthwaite often said that Mrs. Keane's life was the +best sermon he had ever come across; and I think he was right. The +brother and sister received a warm welcome. Miss Keane and Carrie +withdrew to the wide window for a private chat, while Mr. Goldthwaite +remained by Mrs. Keane's sofa. He was an especial favourite of hers. +Minnie disappeared, and ere long Judge Keane and his second son, +George, appeared in the drawing-room. It is not necessary for me to +describe Mr. George Keane, except to say that he was his father's +right hand, and the greatest comfort of his mother's life; and that +is saying a great deal, isn't it? When he came in Alice found +something to do at her mother's couch, and her seat in the window did +not long remain unoccupied. There was quite a hum of conversation in +the room, and then when candles were brought in, and the curtains +drawn, Miss Keane said with a smile,— + +<p>"We have not had our pilgrimage up the Peak this fall. If we don't +have it soon it will be too late." + +<p>"Frank and I were talking of it yesterday," said Carrie Goldthwaite. +"The days are so pleasant, why not have it this week or beginning of +next?" + +<p>"Well," said Judge Keane, "settle the day when you are at it; I was +beginning to think our annual excursion was to be forgotten this +fall." + +<p>"This is Thursday, and to-morrow is my class day at Pendlepoint," +said Miss Keane. "Saturday won't suit you, Mr. Goldthwaite?" + +<p>"Monday would be better," admitted Frank. + +<p>"Then Monday be it," said the judge. "We will start at twelve, and +luncheon at the summit at one." + +<p>"And, O papa, mayn't the big waggon go?" pleaded Minnie. "I want to +take Mopsy and Ted and Silver Tail." + +<p>"And all the live stock on the place, little one," laughed her +father. "What do you say, Mr. Goldthwaite? Minnie thinks the kittens +would enjoy the view immensely." + +<p>"The suggestion about the big waggon is opportune," said Mr. George +Keane. "Last year some of the ladies would not have objected to a +seat in it before we reached the top." + +<p>"Some of the gentlemen, too," said Alice Keane with a sly smile. "I +propose the big waggon for faint-hearted climbers, and the little one +for rugs and provisions." + +<p>"I am going to make a petition, Judge Keane," said Carrie +Goldthwaite. "I have two little friends who would enjoy the excursion +as much as any of us, and they have not much enjoyment in their +lives. I mean those orphan children at Thankful Rest. Will you let +them come?" + +<p>"With all my heart; no need to ask, my dear," said the judge +heartily; "and we will do our best to make them enjoy themselves." + +<p>"Thank you, Judge Keane," said Carrie, and her face wore the +expression the old man liked particularly to see there. + +<p>"I see them in church regularly," said Miss Keane. "The girl is a +remarkably pretty child. Robert was quite charmed with her face when +he was here a fortnight ago. I believe he was thinking what a study +she was for a picture instead of listening to you, Mr. Goldthwaite." + +<p>"I scarcely think it, Miss Keane," answered Frank smiling. "At least +he took me to task severely afterwards about a remark in my sermon +which he did not approve." + +<p>"Orphans, did you say, Carrie?" asked Mrs. Keane gently. "Was their +mother Deacon Strong's youngest daughter Hetty?" + +<p>"The same, Mrs. Keane," answered Carrie. "And she must have been very +different from her brother and sister, for the children have been +evidently trained by a refined and cultured mind. Lucy is a perfect +lady, child though she is." + +<p>"I feel very much interested," said Mrs. Keane. + +<p>"I knew their mother slightly, and liked her much. Could you not +bring the children to see me some day?" + +<p>"I shall try, Mrs. Keane; but it is not an easy task begging a +favour from Miss Hepsy, and she seems determined to keep them at +home. I have to take Lucy by main force when I want her at the +parsonage." + +<p>"I hope they'll come, anyway," put in Minnie, "because I never have +anybody to speak to. One grows tired, even of the Peak, when there's +nobody but grown-up people to go on to. That's why I want Mopsy and +Ted and Silver Tail. It wouldn't be so lonesome. But they can stay at +home if Lucy comes." + +<p>"Poor Minnie," said her father, laughing with the rest at the child's +aggrieved tone. "We must do all we can to persuade them, then, to +spare you the necessity of frightening the cats out of their wits." + +<p>"I'll go up to Thankful Rest to-morrow and extract permission from +Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, "though I am not very hopeful of the +result.—Come, Frank, we must be off; it is nearly eight." + +<p>"You will let us know on Sunday, then, if they can come," said Miss +Keane; and with cordial good-nights the friends parted. + +<p>Early next afternoon Miss Goldthwaite walked up to Thankful Rest on +her mission to Miss Hepsy. That lady was making preserves, for which +Lucy had been kept since early morning paring and coring apples and +stoning plums. As Miss Goldthwaite passed the kitchen window, she +caught a glimpse of a slight figure almost lost in a huge apron, and +a very white, weary-looking face bent over the basket of fruit. Aunt +Hepsy was grimly stirring a panful of plums over the stove, and did +not look particularly overjoyed to see Miss Goldthwaite; but Lucy +did. + +<p>"Always busy, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie briskly, not choosing to mind +the snappy greeting she received. "I declare I always feel a lazy, +good-for-nothing creature when I come to Thankful Rest.—Here, Lucy +child, sit down and let me do your work while I am here; you look +tired." + +<p>The quiet eyes raised themselves in loving gratitude to the sweet +face, and she was not slow to avail herself of the chance of a +moment's rest. Miss Hepsy sniffed, but made no audible demur. + +<p>"What splendid fruit, Miss Hepsy!" said the visitor after a moment's +silence; "I have seen none like it in Pendlepoint this fall." + +<p>"It's well enough," said Miss Hepsy, a little mollified. "Your folks +all well, Miss Goldthwaite?" + +<p>"Thank you, yes; and papa and mamma are coming from New York next +week, if the weather keeps fine. I can hardly sleep or eat for joy, +Miss Hepsy; and Frank is almost as bad." + +<p>"You be like children about your father and mother yet," said Miss +Hepsy brusquely. "I reckon you'd better not marry in Pendlepoint, or +there'll be an end to your goin' home any more." + +<p>Carrie laughed. + +<p>"I don't see why it should come to an end then, Miss Hepsy," she +said. "Even married people get a holiday sometimes." + +<p>"I guess they don't see many o' them," replied Miss Hepsy. "I think +you're a fool to marry, anyway, Miss Goldthwaite, when the parson +thinks such a heap of you." + +<p>Carrie laughed again, more amused than ever. + +<p>"Talking of holidays, Miss Hepsy," she said, "I want you to give this +patient little maiden one, and Tom too." + +<p>"Not if I know it," answered Miss Hepsy promptly. + +<p>"Oh yes you will," said Miss Goldthwaite serenely. "We are to have a +picnic up the Peak on Monday, in Judge Keane's waggon. I've set my +heart on Lucy and Tom, and half a day is nothing." + +<p>"It makes 'em idle and restless for days, Miss Goldthwaite," said +Aunt Hepsy, with grim decision, "an' I ain't a-goin' to have it, so +let it a be." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite held her peace a moment, and then went straight up +to Aunt Hepsy, and, to Lucy's amazement, laid her two hands on her +shoulders and looked into her face with laughing eyes. "Do you know +you are the most disagreeable woman in the township, Miss Hepsy, and +that there isn't another would be so cross with me as you are? I'll +come up and pare apples for two whole days if you'll let me have Lucy +and Tom. Look me in the face and refuse me if you dare." + +<p>Miss Hepsy actually smiled. "I never saw sech a cretur," she said. +"Ye'd move the very Peak wi' them eyes o' your'n. I'm real sorry for +Mr. George Keane, anyway. Well, have yer own way, and go off home. +You're only hinderin' my work, and I hain't a minute to lose." + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, with a very eloquent glance of +her irresistible eyes.—"Now, Lucy," said she then, turning to the +child, "come down to the parsonage on Monday morning at eleven, you +and Tom, and we will go up to the Red House together. Good-bye, dear; +the fresh air up the Peak will brighten that white face, I hope. +Don't forget, now." + +<p>"Forget! O Miss Carrie," was all she said, but her eyes were very dim +as she returned her kiss. Lucy had been feeling peculiarly sad and +down-hearted, and Miss Goldthwaite had come and brought with her the +sunshine which seemed to follow her everywhere. + +<p>Then Carrie bade Miss Hepsy good-bye, and went away. Looking about +her as she went through the garden, she espied Tom painting waggon +wheels in the yard. A few steps took her to the boy's side, and he +looked up with a glad smile of surprise. + +<p>"Busy too, Tom," she said pleasantly. "I don't think this place +should be called Thankful Rest. Nobody seems to take a rest here. How +do you like this work?" + +<p>"Don't ask me, Miss Goldthwaite," said the lad. "You remember you +told me to make the best of it; but it isn't easy." + +<p>"It will grow easy by-and-by," she said, and laid her hand a moment +on his arm, and her beautiful eyes grew grave and earnest. "Does my +soldier find his Captain able to help even in dark hours?" + +<p>"Yes, Miss Goldthwaite." That was all, but it was said so simply and +earnestly that Carrie's heart grew glad. + +<p>"We are to have a picnic up the Peak on Monday in Judge Keane's +waggon," said she after a moment. "Your aunt has promised to let you +and Lucy come. Will you like it?" + +<p>"Like it! Up the Peak! O Miss Goldthwaite," said the boy, looking +away to the towering hill beyond, "I have wished I could go every day +since I came. How good you are to Lucy and me!" + +<p>"She will tell you when to be ready. In the meantime I must go," said +Miss Goldthwaite with her pleasant smile. "Good-bye, and success to +the waggon-painting."</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="8">VIII.</a><br> +<br> +UP THE PEAK.</center> +<br> +<p>Tom and Lucy Hurst peered anxiously out of their chamber windows at +six o'clock on Monday morning to see a clear, calm, beautiful sky, +with a faint roseate flush in the east, where, by-and-by, the sun +would come up brilliantly. Aunt Hepsy was as cross as two sticks, and +Uncle Josh morose and taciturn; but even these things failed to damp +their spirits, and at a quarter to eleven they set off, a very happy +pair, across the meadow to the parsonage. Both looked well. Lucy's +mourning, though simple and inexpensive, was wonderfully becoming; +and some fine delicate lace, which had been her mother's, relieved +the sombre black dress nicely. Miss Goldthwaite was very proud of her +friends, and told them so when she greeted them. They were just in +time, and the four set off, Tom in front with Miss Goldthwaite, and +Lucy walking with the minister. She was shy and quiet, but somehow +nobody could be long afraid of Mr. Goldthwaite. He possessed his +sister's charm of manner, and drew Lucy on to talk in spite of +herself. At the Red House there was a great bustle. The big waggon +was at the front door, and the little one at the back, into which the +cook was stowing all sorts of eatables. Minnie Keane, in a state of +great excitement, was flying about with a tiny kitten in each arm, +the mother following at her heels mewing piteously for her children +to be left in safety. Minnie dropped the kittens when she saw the +party from the parsonage coming round the avenue, and ran to meet +them. Miss Goldthwaite made the introductions, and then she and Mr. +Goldthwaite passed into the house, leaving the children beside the +waggon. There was but a moment's shyness, and then the irrepressible +Minnie's tongue began to go freely. + +<p>"You look nice, Lucy," she said frankly. "I guess we'll have a good +time to-day. There always is a good time when papa takes us +anywhere." + +<p>"This is a nice horse," said Tom, feeling he must say something. +"What's his name?" + +<p>"Oh, that's Billy. He's very old, and rather cross. You should see +papa's Beauty. Come to the stable and I'll show you her." + +<p>She drew Lucy's arm within her own and darted off, Tom following. +Minnie was quite at home in the stable, and familiar with every +animal in it. Beauty pricked up her ears and whinnied at the touch of +Minnie's caressing fingers. + +<p>"You ask Miss Goldthwaite about Beauty," she said. "She thinks there +isn't another horse like her in the world.—Don't you love horses, +Lucy?" + +<p>"Yes; I love all animals," replied Lucy. "I saw some nice little +kittens round there." + +<p>"Yes; I've three. We'd better go round now, I think; perhaps they'll +want to be going.—I'm glad it's a fine day; aren't you, Tom?" + +<p>"I think I am. I looked out at six this morning to see if it was. +It'll be glorious up the Peak." + +<p>As the three came round to the front door again, Miss Keane appeared +on the threshold. She looked very tall and stately and awe-inspiring +with her trailing dress and eye-glass. Yet her smile as she shook +hands with the children was so pleasant that Lucy forgot to be afraid +of her. + +<p>"My mother would like to see you, Tom and Lucy," she said. "Will you +come upstairs? she is not able to leave the room, you know.—Minnie, +I wish you would look round for papa. It is just twelve; we should be +going." + +<p>Minnie scampered off, and Tom and Lucy followed Miss Keane up the +broad staircase into the drawing-room, the beauty of which held them +spellbound for a few minutes. On a couch near the fire lay a lady, +with gray hair and a pale, thin, worn face, which wore such an +expression of peace and happiness that Lucy felt her heart go out to +her at once. Mr. and Miss Goldthwaite and George Keane were there +also. Mrs. Keane held out both her hands, and the two came shyly +forward—Tom blushing a little to be among so many strangers. + +<p>"I am glad to see you, my dears," she said very heartily.—"Kiss me, +Lucy. I knew your mother, dear. You remind me of her very much." + +<p>The ready tears sprang to Lucy's eyes. Kindness always moved her +thus, and she took a stool close to the couch, while Tom's eyes +wandered round the room, lingering hungrily on the exquisite +water-colours on the walls. It was long since he had had such an +opportunity. At Thankful Rest the art collection consisted of a few +family portraits, ludicrous alike in execution and in colouring. A +smile and a glance passed from Mr. Goldthwaite to his sister as they +noted how speedily the boy became absorbed. + +<p>"These are my brother Robert's drawings," said Miss Keane, touching +his arm and beckoning him to come nearer. "You are fond of painting, +I think?" + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Tom, his face flushing a little. "And these +are so beautiful, I could not help looking at them." + +<p>"If you will come up to the Red House some other day, I shall show +you all my brother's sketch-books and odd drawings," said Miss Keane. +"I am very fond of the work myself, and might perhaps be able to help +you a little, you know, and I think you would make a clever pupil; +what do you say?" + +<p>The eyes behind the glasses beamed so kindly at him that Tom forgot +that his first impression of her had been unpleasant, and a warm +flush of gratitude answered her better than his words. They were few +and sad enough. + +<p>"There is nothing I should like so much in the world, ma'am, and I +thank you very much; but I can't come—my uncle and aunt would not +let me." + +<p>"I must see about that," said Miss Keane promptly; and at that moment +Judge Keane's stately figure appeared in the doorway. + +<p>"Are you going to sit there all day, you young folk?" he called out +hastily.—"Oh, here you are, little ones;—glad to see you, my lad;" +and he gave Tom's hand a warm grasp, and touched Lucy's white face +with his forefinger. + +<p>"Want some roses there, doesn't she, wife?" he said. "There'll be a +glorious air up the Peak to-day, it will bring them there, if +anything will." + +<p>"I wish you could have come, dear Mrs. Keane," whispered Carrie as +she bent a moment over the couch before they passed out; "you used to +be the very sunshine of us all." + +<p>"I think of you, dear, and am happy in my own way at home," she +replied with her sweet smile; "take care of yourself and of this pale +little maiden.—Lucy dear, good-bye. Come and see me again." + +<p>"Indeed I will, if I can, ma'am," replied Lucy earnestly; and then +they all went away. Minnie was already in the big waggon waiting +impatiently for the start. + +<p>"You will go inside too, little one, I suppose," said the judge to +Lucy; and with one swing of his strong arms he placed her beside +Minnie. "The rest of us will walk a piece, I fancy. As this is +supposed to be a climbing expedition, we must make some show, at +least, to begin with." + +<p>There was a general laugh, and Tom and Lucy thought there could not +be so pleasant an old gentleman as Judge Keane anywhere. + +<p>Miss Keane elected Tom for her cavalier, and made him feel very +important indeed, by treating him as if he were quite a man; and they +got into a very interesting talk about the great painters and their +work. She was astonished to find what a thorough knowledge the boy +had of the subject, and how well he could talk on what interested him +most. + +<p>"Robert must see this young artist," was her mental comment. The +judge followed behind with Mr. Goldthwaite; while Mr. George Keane +and Miss Goldthwaite brought up the rear, walking very slowly, and +talking very earnestly. Nobody took any notice of them whatever, +evidently being of opinion that they were quite capable of amusing +each other. The waggon-path, winding gradually up the mountain side, +was rough and stony, and even Billy's cautious feet stumbled +sometimes; and the two girls were jolted so that they laughed till +they cried. + +<p>"I think we'd better get out; don't you, Lucy?" cried Minnie at last, +"else there'll be none of us left to see the top of the Peak. I never +was so sore in my life. Isn't it fun though?" + +<p>"Yes; and the sun is so bright, and everybody so kind, and everything +so pleasant, I don't know what to do," said Lucy with softening eyes. +Minnie looked at her curiously. + +<p>"I say, don't you have any good times at your home, Lucy?" she asked +soberly. + +<p>"Sometimes—not very often," answered Lucy reluctantly. + +<p>"I don't think your aunt is a very nice woman anyway," said Minnie +with her usual candour. "She looked at me so one day in church, +'cause I laughed right out at a funny little dog with a stumpy tail +running in and right up to Mr. Goldthwaite. Wouldn't you have laughed +too?" + +<p>"I don't know," said Lucy; "if it was very funny, I daresay I would." + +<p>"How pretty you are," said Minnie after a while; "my sister Alice +says so—I guess she knows." Lucy blushed, not being accustomed to +such plain speaking. "I think Miss Goldthwaite perfectly elegant," +went on the young critic. "She is going to marry my brother George, +do you know?" + +<p>"Is she?" asked Lucy, much interested. + +<p>"Yes; and papa and mamma are crazed about her. Everybody is. Isn't +she just splendid?" + +<p>"There is nobody like her," answered Lucy. Minnie could never know +what she had been and was to her. + +<p>"Lovers are stupid, don't you think?" asked Minnie again. "They +always go away by themselves, and things; you just watch George and +Carrie to-day. It is a great trial to me." + +<p>"What is?" asked Mr. George Keane, pausing at the side of the waggon. +Minnie laughed outright, so did Lucy. + +<p>"It's a secret," replied she in a very dignified way.—"O Miss +Goldthwaite, are you coming into the waggon?" + +<p>"Yes;—will you make room for me, Lucy?" + +<p>Lucy moved further up the cushion, and Mr. George Keane assisted Miss +Goldthwaite to her place. + +<p>"O Carrie, succumbed already!" cried Miss Keane. + +<p>"Won't you come in too?" replied Carrie. + +<p>"No, thank you; I mean to climb to the top. Somebody must sustain the +credit of our sex." + +"I know it's safe in your hands, Alice," said Carrie serenely.—"Lucy +dear, you look happy. Do you enjoy it?" + +<p>The sparkle in Lucy's eyes answered her better than any words. + +<p>The road was becoming rougher and steeper, and Billy's progress +slower and slower, and the summit of the Peak drawing nearer and +nearer. Miss Keane and Tom had got ahead of the waggon, and were the +first to reach the top. At last Billy, with a great pull, brought the +waggon to the level ground, and then stood still. They all alighted, +and, forming a little circle, stood drinking in the beauty of the +scene. Wondering how Tom would be affected, Miss Keane turned to +speak to him, but he had gone; and looking round, she saw him +standing by a huge boulder, but his face was turned away, and +understanding why he felt it best to be alone for a few minutes, she +did not venture to disturb him. It was a panorama of wonderful +beauty. They seemed to stand up among the clouds, the air was so pure +and cool and bracing. Far beneath, the houses of the town looked like +a tiny ant-nest, enveloped in a filmy haze. The great plain stretched +around for miles and miles, dotted here and there by many a pretty +homestead, and intersected by the winding river, glinting and +glistening in the sun as it hurried on and on to join the far-off +sea. Far across the plain the smoke of distant cities obscured the +horizon, but none of the noise or bustle was borne on the breeze to +this lonely mountain peak. A great silence fell upon the little +company, and some bright eyes grew dim as they looked upon the beauty +of the world the great Creator had made. + +<p>"Just say a few words of prayer, Frank," said the judge at length, in +a soft voice; "it will do us all good, I think." Mr. Goldthwaite took +off his hat reverently. + +<p>"Our Father, we thank thee for this day. We thank thee for sparing us +all to come here again; and for the sunshine, and the beauty, and the +gladness of the earth. Help us more and more to feel the power and +majesty of thy hand, and the great love of thy infinite heart. Be +with every one of us to-day, blessing us as only thou canst bless, +and help us to live to thy glory; for Jesus' sake. Amen." + +<p>"Amen," repeated Judge Keane. "Now we can begin the day with a better +heart than ever."</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="9">IX.</a><br> +<br> +A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED.</center> +<br> +<p>It was great fun unpacking the baskets, and Tom made himself very +useful to the ladies; so much so, that Miss Goldthwaite felt +constrained to whisper one word of praise in his ear, which sent a +glow to his heart. Surely never was meal so enjoyed as that lunch on +the summit of Pendle Peak; and they lingered so long over it, that +Judge Keane passed a great many jokes on the gigantic appetites, and +professed great concern about the small quantity of provisions left +for tea. When plates and forks and knives were stowed in the waggon +again, the party broke up in twos and threes, and went off exploring. +Lucy was tired, and said she would remain beside the goods and +chattels, whereupon the judge declared he would keep her company. Mr. +George and Miss Goldthwaite went off together to search for ferns, +they said; while Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom went to +the ravine on the other side of the Peak to find some rare specimens +of wild flowers Miss Keane was anxious to secure for her collection. +The judge was to whistle at four o'clock, if they had not then +returned; and promised to have tea ready, which was considered a +great joke. Lucy sat on the smooth green turf, leaning against a +boulder, feasting her eyes on the beauty, of which she thought her +eyes could never tire. The judge lay on the grass with half-closed +eyes, looking at the girl's sweet face, wondering why it looked older +and sadder and more womanly than it ought. It was a good while before +either spoke. + +<p>"Would you mind telling me, Judge Keane, please," said Lucy timidly, +"where Newhaven lies from here, and how far it is?" + +<p>The judge raised himself on his elbow, put on his gold eye-glass, and +looked along the plain. "There, straight as the crow flies, little +one," he said, pointing west. "It is about thirty miles in a direct +line from where we sit; by rail about fifty, I think." + +<p>"It is a long way," she said, and a little sigh followed, as if she +wished it nearer. + +<p>"You lived in Newhaven, I think, didn't you?" asked the judge. + +<p>"Yes, sir, till mamma died. It is not a nice place, but I love it +dearly." + +<p>Ay, for a quiet grave there held the loved father and mother who had +once made for her a happy home. + +<p>The judge did not speak, he did not know what to say just then, and +Lucy did not seem to expect an answer. He shut his eyes again, and +there was a long silence. Thinking he slept, Lucy rose, and, gently +laying a rug over him, slipped away. He opened his eyes directly and +watched her. She only moved a few yards from him, and knelt down with +her face to the west. He heard a few faltering words, followed by a +sob—"O dear papa and mamma, I wonder if you can see Tom and me +to-day, and know how happy we are. God bless the dear friends who +have made us so, for Christ's sake. Amen." + +<p>The judge's lips twitched beneath his mustache, and when Lucy rose +again, he drew the rug up over his face, not wishing her to see that +he had heard that little prayer. But he never forgot it. Two hours +did not take long to slip away, and then the judge sat up and looked +at Lucy with a comical smile. + +<p>"It is ten minutes to four, little one, and there isn't a sign of the +wanderers. Suppose you and I make tea: do you think we could manage +it between us?" + +<p>"Oh yes, sir; I know how to build a fire, and make tea too, and there +are sticks in the waggon. May I try?" + +<p>"Of course, and I'll help to the best of my limited ability." + +<p>Lucy went to the waggon and got out sticks and the kettle, while the +judge made an amateur stove between four stones. Lucy then laid the +fire, and in a minute there was quite a cheerful little blaze. Water +was the next thing, and the judge remembered there used to be a tiny +spring a few yards down the slope, which was found without any +difficulty; and he brought back the kettle filled, and placed it on +the fire. He had so many odd remarks to make about his new +occupation, that Lucy was kept laughing pretty nearly all the time. +It was getting on for five o'clock before four heads appeared at the +edge of the slope. Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom +arrived laden with flowers and ferns, and reported themselves +exhausted, and thankful to see that tea was ready. George and Carrie +had not been seen since they departed at two o'clock." + +<p>"You made tea all by yourself, Lucy," said Miss Keane, laying her +kind hand on Lucy's sunny head. "Clever little maiden, how are we to +thank you?" + +<p>"Judge Keane helped me, Miss Alice," replied Lucy blushing and +smiling. + +<p>"Helped! I should think I did," said the judge tragically: "she sat +on the waggon like a queen, and commanded me like a slave. She looks +meek and mild enough, but don't trust her." + +<p>"Papa, how much nonsense do you talk in a day?" she said. "I wish the +other two would turn up; I'm famished." + +<p>"Are we to wait on them, papa?" inquired Minnie piteously. "I guess +they don't want any tea: lovers never want anything to eat. Mayn't +we have it now?" + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Keane.—"Lucy dear, may I trouble you for the +teapot.—Papa, hand the sugar, and make yourself useful." + +<p>"What a real nice boy your brother Tom is," said Minnie Keane, +dropping down by Lucy's side. "We had a splendid time down there, +while Alice and Mr. Goldthwaite talked out of books. Aren't you very +fond of him?" + +<p>"Of Tom? Of course I am," answered Lucy; "you know I have nobody but +him, and he has nobody but me." + +<p>"Lucy, your tea is delightful," said Mr. Goldthwaite from the other +side of the table-cloth. "I don't know when I enjoyed anything so +well." + +<p>"Hunger is good sauce," said the judge;—"here are the truants." Mr. +George Keane and Miss Goldthwaite appeared now, apparently very much +astonished to find themselves behind time. The judge made room for +Carrie beside himself, and after looking blankly at her for a few +minutes, said solemnly, "I thought I heard you say you wanted ferns; +but I must have been mistaken, or possibly they haven't come up in +the glen this year.—Some tea here, Alice.—Miss Goldthwaite, may I +help you to a piece of cake?" The truants joined in the laugh against +themselves, and the rest of the meal was passed in a perfect babel of +talking. + +<p>"What shall we do now, papa?" said Alice when they had finished. "We +won't be going home for a little while." + +<p>The judge looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes past five: we shall +start at six. Well, I propose that each member of the company +composes, within the space of ten minutes, four lines of verse +descriptive of the scenery. I have brought pencils and paper; and the +best writer shall have my gold pencil-case to him or her self." + +<p>There was a general exclamation, and each one declared it impossible +to perform such a feat. + +<p>"Try," said the judge briefly; and he passed round the pencils and +the sheets of paper. Then he laid his watch on the cloth, and gave +the signal. You would have laughed at the utter stillness then, and +at the perplexity on each face. Slowly the hands moved round, till +the ten minutes were up, and the judge cried halt. + +<p>"You read then, judge," said Mr. Goldthwaite; "begin with your own." + +<p>"Well, here I am," said the judge with a very comical smile, and he +read slowly and distinctly:—</p> + +<blockquote> +"It seems to me that if you go<br> +Enjoyment for to seek,<br> +You'll find out all you want and more<br> +Up here on Pendle Peak." +</blockquote> + +<p>A shout of laughter greeted th is effusion, and the judge pretended to +be highly offended. + +<p>"I object to the 'for' in the second line," said Mr. Goldthwaite. + +<p>"Do you think I don't know it has no business there?" said the judge. +"But I couldn't get it to rhyme, so I was obliged to put in +something. It is not bad for an old fellow who never made two lines +rhyme before in his life. Come then, Frank, pass up yours."</p> + +<blockquote> + "To read a page from Nature's book,<br> + In this deep solitude,<br> + Uplifts the heart in purer aims,<br> + And leads us nearer God." +</blockquote> + +<p>"True, Frank," said the judge solemnly. "You have beaten me hollow +anyway.—Now, Carrie." + +<p>"Mine is very poor indeed, Judge Keane," said Carrie, as she passed +up her slip. "Like yours it is my first attempt."</p> + +<blockquote> + "The beauty of the hills,<br> + So calm, so free, so bright,<br> + Can dim my eyes with tears,<br> + And fill me with delight." +</blockquote> + +<p>"Very good" was the verdict; and then Miss Keane reluctantly gave up +her paper.</p> + +<blockquote> + "How still it is! No rude discord<br> + Falls on the ear;<br> + We feel all earthly thoughts and aims<br> + Must vanish here." +</blockquote> + +<p>That also was pronounced "very good," and Judge Keane feared he +should have some difficulty in adjudicating the prize. Mr. George +Keane's was the next.</p> + +<blockquote> + "I never wrote a poem, but since<br> + You will not be refused,<br> + I do declare I don't know how,<br> + And beg to be excused." +</blockquote> + +<p>"You have no chance anyway, George," said his father, laughing with +the rest. "It has not the remotest reference to the subject in +hand.—Well, Lucy." + +<p>"Mine last, please," pleaded Lucy. + +<p>So the judge took the paper from Minnie's hand and read,—</p> + +<blockquote> + "Papa, you know I can't make verse,<br> + And it was very bad<br> + Of you to make us play at this,—<br> + I tell you I'm real mad." +</blockquote> + +<p>There was another shout at Minnie's performance, and then Lucy +timidly slipped her paper into the judge's hand, and drew back behind +Minnie. The judge read very slowly this time, and every beautiful +word was distinctly heard.</p> + +<blockquote> + "The calm, still brightness on the hills,<br> + The beauty on the plain,<br> + Fill all my heart with strange sweet joy,<br> + That is akin to pain.<br> +<br> + "We stand upon a stepping-stone<br> + Up to the Better Land;<br> + I seem to see the glory there,<br> + And feel my Father's hand.<br> +<br> + "And hovering near me seem to be<br> + The loved ones gone before;<br> + One day we'll mount God's stepping-stones,<br> + And weep earth's tears no more." +</blockquote> + +<p>There was a moment's surprised silence. All eyes were turned to Lucy, +who shrank further back with a very distressed face. + +<p>"The prize is yours, Lucy," said Judge Keane at length.—"Who would +have thought this shy little maiden was the poet of the company?" + +<p>There were many other remarks made, which seemed to distress Lucy so +much that they held their peace at length, and the judge remembered +Tom's contribution had not been called for. + +<p>"You thought you were to escape, young man," said he, as he received +the paper from Tom's reluctant hand. "Perhaps the last may be best +yet, who knows? Well, I never—ha! ha!" + +<p>He held up the paper, and lo, a sketch of the circle of anxious +faces, with paper and pencil before them, and every expression true +to the life. It was wonderfully well done, and created much amusement +as it was handed round the company. + +<p>"The pencil-case is Lucy's," said the judge. "But I think you deserve +a special prize, my lad. Will you let me keep this? Robert must see +it." + +<p>"Yes, sir, of course," answered Tom. "When I felt a pencil in my hand +I had to draw. I always feel so." + +<p>"True artist; eh, Carrie?" whispered the judge, and she nodded +assent. She had not yet recovered from the surprise Lucy had given +her. + +<p>"The sun is thinking of setting," said the judge then. "We must be +preparing to depart." + +<p>There was a general move, and Miss Keane and Miss Goldthwaite +proceeded to clear the table. + +<p>"Let us sit here and see the sun set, and have a talk, Lucy," said +Minnie, drawing Lucy a little apart. "What a perfectly elegant poem +that was you wrote. It's 'most as good as Whittier's George reads to +mamma sometimes. I guess you'll grow up to be a Mrs. Whittier." + +<p>"Oh no," said Lucy, laughing a little; "Miss Keane's was just as +good, I think, only I wrote more. How funny yours was." + +<p>"I should think so. Mopsy, or Ted, or Silver Tail could do just as +well, I believe.—Tom, won't you draw me a picture of my very own to +keep? I wish you'd come up and do the kittens; won't you? I ask +Robert every time he comes, but he just teases me." + +<p>"I'll draw a kitten for you if you like," answered Tom readily, "but +I can't promise to come up and do it." + +<p>Before very long Billy was harnessed again, and after bidding a +reluctant good-bye to the Peak for another year, the descent was +begun. Lucy walked part of the way with Mr. George Keane's arm to +help her along, and Miss Goldthwaite beckoned Tom to her side. + +<p>"I haven't seen much of you to-day, Tom," she said pleasantly. "Have +you had a nice day?" + +"I shall never forget it, Miss Goldthwaite," answered Tom very +gravely. + +<p>And though after years brought many happy excursions up the Peak, +never was one so exquisitely enjoyed as this had been. The sun had +dropped behind the hill when the tired party reached the Red House, +and a big moon was coming up serenely in the opal sky. Mr. and Miss +Goldthwaite paused at the avenue gate, saying they would not come any +further; so the good-nights were said there and the company +separated. + +<p>"Good-night, my little poetess," whispered the judge as he lifted +Lucy from the waggon. "Go on writing, my dear; we will hear of you +yet." And he kissed her as he set her to the ground, and added +softly, "You have done an old man good to-day though you did not know +it." + +<p>It was a very quiet walk home by the river-side to the parsonage, but +the thoughts were all pleasant ones. Mr. Goldthwaite had not spoken +much to Lucy all day, but he had watched her, how closely she did not +know. He held her hand at parting, and looked straight into her +beautiful eyes, his own very grave and earnest. + +<p>"God bless you, Lucy; good-night." She wondered a little at the +oddness of his manner. "My soldier has shown to advantage to-day," +said Miss Carrie, smiling as she shook hands with Tom. "I have been +very proud of him." + +<p>"Lucy," said Tom, as they turned into the paddock at Thankful Rest, +"do you know what I'm going to do when I'm a man?" + +<p>"Be a great painter," answered Lucy promptly. "What else?" + +<p>"Anything else?" inquired she in much surprise. + +<p>"I'm going to marry Miss Goldthwaite!" + +<p>Lucy laughed outright. + +<p>"You can't, Tom; she's going to marry Mr. George Keane, Minnie told +me." + +<p>"Is she? Well, Mr. George Keane is a very good fellow," said Tom in a +tone which would have infinitely amused that gentleman had he heard +it; "but he isn't half good enough for her.—O Lucy, hasn't this been +a day?" + +<p>"Yes," answered Lucy, and she turned full eyes up to the quiet sky. +"I think papa and mamma must see us, and be glad we have been happy." + +<p>"I feel so too," answered Tom with the sudden beautiful earnestness +which had often come to him of late.—"Kiss me, Lucy; there are only +you and I." + +<p>She put her arm about his neck, and kissed him as he wished; then the +two went very soberly into the house.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="10">X</a><br>. +<br> +ON THE LAKE.</center> +<br> +<p>On the first morning of November the summit of the Peak was draped in +white, and a slight sprinkling of snow sparkled on the plain. Frost +was hard enough to freeze the duck-pond and the horse-trough. Winter +had begun. It was very cold; Lucy shivered over her dressing every +morning in her little attic chamber, and had just to work to get +warm, as Aunt Hepsy permitted no sitting over the stove. Tom had to +turn out of doors at six every morning, and feed a score of cattle +before breakfast, and woe betide him if the work was not done up to +Uncle Josh's mark. Uncle Josh had a vocabulary of his own, from which +he selected many an epithet to bestow on Tom! Sometimes yet the quick +temper would fly up, and there would be a war of words; but the lad's +strong striving was beginning to bear its fruit, and he found it +daily easier to keep hold of the bridle, as Miss Goldthwaite termed +it. Keziah had been dismissed also, and Lucy's burden was sometimes +more than she could bear. Miss Hepsy refused to see what others +saw—that the girl was overwrought; and her feelings had been blunted +so long, that only a very sharp shock would bring them into use +again. And the time had not come yet. For more highly favoured young +folks than Tom and Lucy Hurst, these frosty days brought innumerable +enjoyments in their train—skating and sleighing by daylight and +moonlight, evening parties, and all sorts of frolics. There were gay +times at the Red House, especially when in Christmas week Mr. Robert +Keane came home, bringing with him two school-boy cousins from +Philadelphia. Miss Alice Keane called at Thankful Rest on her pony, +one morning, to ask Tom and Lucy to a Christmas-eve gathering. The +invitation was curtly declined by Miss Hepsy, and she was dismissed +with such scant courtesy that she departed very indignant indeed. + +<p>"What a woman that is at Thankful Rest," she said to Miss Goldthwaite +when she called at the parsonage. "I almost forgot myself, Carrie, +and nearly gave her a few rude words. I am truly sorry for those poor +children." + +<p>"Well you may be," answered Carrie with a sigh, knowing better than +Alice what their life was. + +<p>Only one half-holiday was vouchsafed to them at Miss Goldthwaite's +earnest entreaty, and they took tea at the parsonage, after which the +party went up to the Red House pond to see the skating there. They +were very warmly welcomed—Minnie, especially, being quite overjoyed +to see Lucy again. + +<p>"Do you skate, Tom?" asked Miss Keane, coming up breathless after a +long run down the lake. + +<p>"Yes, Miss Keane. But I have no skates; they were left at home—in +Newhaven, I mean." + +<p>"Here, Minnie, my pet, run to the house and bring out a couple of +pairs. You will find them in George's room, I think; and tell Robert +<i><b>I</b></i> want him on the lake." + +<p>Minnie ran off obediently. Pretty soon Mr. George Keane and the two +cousins appeared round the bend, and Miss Keane introduced the latter +to Tom. They did not take long to become acquainted, and were soon +talking quite familiarly. They stood waiting till Minnie returned, +her brother with her, carrying the skates. He was a tall, slight +young man, rather like Miss Keane; and his face looked a trifle stern +at first, as hers did, but that wore off when you got to know him. + +<p>"This is Tom Hurst I told you of, Robert," said Miss Keane; and Tom +shook hands with him reverentially, remembering he was the great +painter all America was talking of. + +<p>"I'm glad to see you," said Mr. Robert Keane frankly. "Let us get on +our skates, and you and I shall take a run together. I haven't been +on the ice this season." + +<p>Tom sat down and quickly put on his skates, and the pair set off, +keeping close together. Miss Keane turned to Mr. Goldthwaite with a +smile. "Robert is interested already. I want him to do something for +Tom, and I think he will." + +<p>"He will not regret it," answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "They are all off +now but we two, Miss Keane; come, we must not be behind." + +<p>"My sister tells me you would like to be a painter, Tom," said Mr. +Robert Keane, when they had gone a hundred yards in silence. + +<p>"Yes, sir," answered Tom, wishing to say a great deal more, but +unable to utter more than two words. + +<p>"What would you say to go back to Philadelphia, and let me look after +your training?" + +<p>"O Mr. Keane!" Tom stood still on the ice and lifted incredulous eyes +to his companion's face. There was a smile there, but the eyes were +sincere enough. + +<p>"I see you would like it. Don't stand; we can talk while we go. Well, +my boy, there is a great deal of hard work, patient plodding, +uninteresting study to be gone through, and as many failures and +tumbles as days in the year, before you reach even the first step of +the ladder. Do you think you could go through it?" + +<p>"I would go through anything, Mr. Keane, and toil for twenty years, +if need be, only to be allowed to work at it. Do you know, it is life +to me even to think of it." + +<p>Robert Keane glanced curiously at the lad. His face was kindling with +emotion, and his eyes shone like stars. + +<p>"All right, my boy; you're the right stuff, I see. Leave it with me; +I'll fix it right enough. And you'll go to Philadelphia as sure as my +name's Keane. No need to thank me. Let your future success be my +reward, if I need any. Let us try a race back; you're a splendid +skater." + +<p>They turned, and sped along the ice at lightning speed, and Tom came +in a dozen yards in front at the farther side. + +<p>"Ahead of me," laughed Mr. Keane. "Is that an omen of the future, +Tom?" + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite noted the boy's flushed, happy face and bright eyes, +and concluded Mr. Robert Keane must have wrought the change. She +turned to remark upon it to Alice, when a hand touched her arm, and +Tom's voice said eagerly, "Will you skate with me, Miss Goldthwaite? +I want to speak to you." She nodded smilingly and gave him her hand. + +<p>"O Miss Goldthwaite," said Tom in a great burst of happiness, "Mr. +Robert Keane says he will take me to Philadelphia with him, and help +me to be a painter." + +<p>"I guessed he would," said Carrie. "I am very glad of it, Tom. Do you +remember what I said about this joy coming in God's good time?" + +<p>"I have not forgotten, Miss Goldthwaite." + +<p>She stopped on the ice, and laid her slim hand a moment on his +shoulder. "My soldier will remember his Captain still, I hope, in +those happier days, and work for Him with double energy because they +are happier." + +<p>The moonlight showed trembling drops in the boy's earnest eyes as he +answered reverently—"I will never forget how good He has been to me, +Miss Goldthwaite, when I so little deserved it." + +<p>"That is right, my boy; I am not afraid of you," she said heartily. +"Here we are round the bend. How lovely that moonlight shines through +these gloomy pines. Let us go right to the end before we turn." + +<p>They set off again along the smooth sheet of ice, and as they neared +the farther end of the lake Miss Goldthwaite turned aside to explore +an opening between the trees. A moment more and Tom heard a crash, +followed by a faint scream. He looked round, to see the edge of Miss +Goldthwaite's fur cloak disappearing through a huge fissure in the +ice! He had presence of mind to utter one wild, despairing cry, which +re-echoed far off in the lonely pine wood, and then he plunged after +her and caught her dress. Superhuman strength seemed to come to him +in that moment of desperate peril, and he managed to keep, hold of +her with one hand, and with the other cling to the broken edge of +ice. It seemed hours before the ring of skates and the sound of +voices announced help at hand, and his numbed fingers relaxed their +hold of the ice just as Robert Keane and his brother's strong arms +bent down to rescue them. He still had hold of Miss Goldthwaite, and +two minutes sufficed to extricate them both. They were unconscious, +and Carrie's sweet face was so deathly white that a mighty fear took +hold of all present. Alice Keane knelt down and laid her hand to her +heart. "Thank God," she uttered tremulously, and it was fervently +re-echoed by every lip. They were borne to the Red House with great +speed, and restoratives being applied, both rallied in a very short +time. Miss Goldthwaite's first question was for Tom, as his had been +for her; and she whispered to them faintly that he had saved her life +at the risk of his own. When Tom looked round, after a while, it was +to find the judge and Mr. George Keane standing by his bed. + +<p>"God bless you, my lad," said the old man huskily. "You have saved +our pretty flower. All Pendlepoint will thank you for this." + +<p>And Mr. George bent over him, his honest gray eyes dim with tears. "I +owe my wife's life to you, Tom, my boy. As long as I live I shall +never forget this." + +<p>A message was despatched to Thankful Rest reporting the accident, and +saying the children would remain till next day, at least, at the Red +House. Mr. Goldthwaite also remained. His words of thanks to Tom were +few: he was too deeply moved to speak, but Tom was quick to +understand. Next morning Miss Goldthwaite was able to appear at the +breakfast table, looking a little paler than usual, but apparently +not much the worse of her ducking. Dr. Gair forbade Tom to get up +till noon, so Carrie herself took up his breakfast-tray. He looked +surprised and greatly relieved to see her, and tried to make light of +what he had done. + +<p>"It is nothing," he said. "I would gladly do fifty times more for +you." + +<p>"We are bound more closely together now," she said. "I owe my life to +you." And bending over him she kissed him, and slipped away, leaving +him very happy indeed. + +<p>In the evening he came down to the drawing-room, where he was treated +as a hero. Everybody made so much of him that he began to feel +uncomfortable, and took refuge at last with Mr. Robert Keane, who +good-naturedly showed him the sketch-book he had filled in Europe, +and explained everything to him, as if he found pleasure in it. And +he did find pleasure, for Tom was an enthusiastic listener. + +<p>No inquiry had come from Thankful Rest, which had astonished Mrs. +Keane very much. She thought they would be sure to feel anxious about +Tom's recovery. She did not know Joshua Strong and his sister. The +following morning Dr. Gair said Tom might go home as soon as he +liked; so Miss Alice drove him and Lucy to Thankful Rest in the +course of the forenoon. Miss Hepsy was plucking chickens for the +market, and tossed up her head when her nephew and niece appeared +before her. + +<p>"I wonder you'd come back at all after livin' so long among gentle +folk. It'll be a long time, I reckon, afore ye get the chance to jump +through the ice after Miss Goldthwaite or any other miss.—Here, +Lucy, get off yer hat, and lend a hand wi' them chickens.—You'll +find plenty wood in the shed, boy, waitin' to be chopped, if yer +uncle hain't anything else for ye to do. Off ye go." + +<p>The contrast between the happy circle they had left and their own +home was so painful that Lucy's tears fell fast as she went to do her +aunt's bidding. And Tom departed to the wood-shed with a very +downcast and rebellious heart.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="11">XI.</a><br> +<br> +HOPES FULFILLED.</center> +<br> +<p>On the afternoon of the following day Mr. Goldthwaite came to +Thankful Rest, accompanied by Mr. Robert Keane. Lucy opened the door +to them; and seeing a stranger with the parson, her aunt shouted to +her to show them into the sitting-room. It was a chill and gloomy +place, though painfully clean and tidy—utterly destitute of comfort. +Lucy shut the door upon them, and went back to tell her aunt that the +stranger was Mr. Robert Keane. + +<p>"What's their business here, I'd like to know?" she said as she +whisked off her white apron and smoothed her hair beneath her cap. + +<p>Lucy knew, but discreetly held her peace. Miss Hepsy stalked across +the passage and into the sitting-room, her looks asking as plainly as +any words what they wanted. + +<p>"This is Mr. Robert Keane, Miss Strong," said the minister. "He wants +to see you and your brother, I think, on a little business." + +<p>Miss Hepsy elevated her eyebrows, and shook hands with Mr. Keane in +silence. + +<p>"Josh is in the barn. I s'pose I'd better send for him," she said. + +<p>And Mr. Keane answered courteously—"If you please." + +<p>She opened the door and called to Lucy to run to the barn for her +uncle. + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Hepsy," answered Lucy, her sweet, clear tones contrasting +strongly with her aunt's unpleasant voice. + +<p>"Miss Goldthwaite's all right again, eh?" she asked, sitting down +near the door. + +<p>"I am thankful to say my sister is none the worse of her adventure," +answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "But for Tom's bravery the consequences +might have been more serious." + +<p>"H'm, I told him it would be a precious long time afore he got on the +ice again to be laid up, botherin' strange folks, an' I guess I'll +keep my word." + +<p>"You must not be so hard on him, Miss Strong," said the minister. "He +is a very fine lad, and tries very hard to please you, I know." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy remained silent. + +<p>"What a pretty place you have, Miss Strong," said Mr. Keane's +pleasant, well-modulated voice. "The Peak shows splendidly from this +window." + +<p>"The place aren't no great thing, sir," said Miss Hepsy.—"Here's +Josh." She opened the door, and Uncle Josh appeared on the threshold +in his working garb, grimy and dust-stained, as he had come from +repairing the mill. He pulled his hair to the minister, and bowed +awkwardly to Mr. Keane. + +<p>"Sit down, Josh," said Miss Hepsy, but Josh preferred to stand. There +was just a moment's constrained silence. + +<p>"I have called to see you, Mr. Strong," said Robert Keane, plunging +into the subject without further delay, "about your nephew Tom. He is +very anxious to become a painter, I find. Would you have any +objections to me putting him in the way of life to which his desire +and talent point him?" + +<p>"Has the ungrateful little brat been carrying his grumbling among you +folks?" said Miss Hepsy wrathfully. + +<p>"Be quiet, Hepsy," said Joshua Strong very imperatively. + +<p>"I don't quite understand you, sir," he said to Mr. Keane. "I can't +afford to send the boy anywhere to learn anything, if ye mean that. +He'll never do no good on a farm, for sartin; but he kin work for his +livin' here, an' that's all I kin do for 'im." + +<p>"I am a painter myself," said Mr. Keane, guessing they were unaware +of the fact, and now wishing to state his intentions as briefly and +plainly as possible; "and from what I have seen of your nephew I +believe his talent for art to be very great indeed. What I mean is +this: give him up to me; I will take him back to Philadelphia, and +take entire care of his training. It will not cost you a farthing, +Mr. Strong. Do you understand?" + +<p>"We're poor folks, but we don't take charity even for Hetty's +children," said Miss Hepsy pointedly. "We've never been offered it +afore." + +<p>Mr. Keane might have waxed angry at the impertinent remark. He was +only inwardly amused. "It is not charity, Miss Strong," he said +good-humouredly. "I expect Tom will be able to repay anything he may +cost me. I hope you will not stand in the lad's way. He is a born +artist, and will never do good in any other sphere.—Come, Mr. +Strong, say yes, and let us shake hands over the bargain." + +<p>It was proof of the rare delicacy of Robert Keane's nature that he +put the matter in the light of a favour to himself. Mr. Goldthwaite +admired and honoured his friend at that moment more than he had ever +done before. + +<p>Aunt Hepsy preserved a rigid and unbending silence. + +<p>Uncle Josh stood twirling his thumbs reflectively. It was to cost him +nothing, not a farthing; and he would be rid of the bother the +hot-headed youngster was to him. But for his sister he would have +granted a ready assent. + +<p>"Wal, Hepsy?" he said in an inquiring tone. + +<p>"You're the master, Josh, I reckon. Do as ye please. It's all one to +me;" and to their amazement she flounced out of the room and banged +the door behind her. + +<p>"I'm much obleeged to you, Mr. Keane," said Josh, finding his tongue +in a marvellously short time. "I've no objections. As I said afore, +he's an idle, peart young 'un; no good at farm work. I hope yell be +able to make a better job o' him than I've done." + +<p>"I am not afraid," said Mr. Robert Keane. "And I am obliged to you +for granting my request. Can I see Tom?" + +<p>"I reckon you may," said Uncle Josh slowly. "Wal, I'll be off to that +plaguy mill. Good-day to you.—My respects to Miss Goldthwaite, +parson." Once more Uncle Josh pulled his forelock, and shambled out +of the room. + +<p>"It doesn't cause them much concern anyway," said Mr. Keane when the +door closed. "They are a bright pair; I should be afraid of that +woman myself. How that mite of a girl stands it I don't know." + +<p>Before Mr. Goldthwaite had time to answer, the door opened, and a +very eager, excited-looking boy appeared on the threshold. + +<p>"Well, Tom, my boy," said Mr. Keane, holding out his hand, "the +bargain's sealed. You belong to me now." + +<p>"Has Uncle Josh—has Aunt Hepsy said I might?" he said breathlessly. +"Oh, it is too good to be true!" + +<p>"True enough," said Mr. Keane, laughing at the lad's manner.—"Please +assure him of it, Mr. Goldthwaite." + +<p>Mr. Goldthwaite laid his hand on the lad's shoulder, and bent his +grave eyes on his beaming face. "I congratulate you," he said +heartily. "And I hope that by-and-by all Pendlepoint will be proud of +the name of Tom Hurst." + +<p>Tom drew his hand across his eyes. "I can't help it, sir," he said +apologetically. "But if you knew how much I've wished for this and +dreamed of it.—Oh, I feel I can never be grateful enough to you, Mr. +Keane!" + +<p>"Nonsense," said Mr. Keane. "Well, we must be going. Show us the way +out, will you, Tom? Your aunt has deserted us. I don't leave for a +fortnight yet. I shall see you again in a day or two." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy, however, had not altogether forgotten the duties of +hospitality, and now reappeared and asked them to stay to tea. Her +face had cleared a little, and she seemed to regret her previous +rudeness. Her invitation, however, was courteously declined. + +<p>"You're here, I see, Tom," she said severely. "Well, I hope you're +properly grateful to Mr. Keane for doing so much for you. An' I hope +ye'll mend yer ways, an' be a better boy than ye've been." + +<p>"I am very grateful, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom very quietly. "And I will +try to be what you say." + +<p>Something in his face and eyes touched even Aunt Hepsy, and it came +upon her very suddenly to wonder if she had not treated him a little +unjustly. "He's a biddable cretur, too," she said to Mr. Keane. "An' +p'raps he'll take more kindly to your kind o' life than ours. I don't +think much o' them useless ways o' livin' myself, but there's +differences." + +<p>"Some day perhaps, Miss Strong, when Tom comes back a great man," +laughed Mr. Keane, as he shook hands with her and Tom, "you'll admit +you've changed your mind. If you do I'll come along and have a good +laugh at you." + +<p>A smile actually appeared on Miss Hepsy's face. "He's a real +pleasant-spoken gentleman, Mr. Robert Keane," said Aunt Hepsy, as she +shut the door.—"Well, Tom, I hope ye'll get yer fill o' paintin' +now." + +<p>Tom's eyes beamed, but he made no verbal reply. Lucy followed him to +the door as he passed out to the barn again. + +<p>"O Tom, I am so glad," she whispered joyfully; and Tom answered by +tossing his cap in the air and trying to bound up after it. + +<p>"Glad? I don't know whether I'm on my head or my heels, Lucy," he +said. "It's the happiest day of my life." + +<p>Lucy kept the smile upon her face, not wishing to damp his joy, but +her heart was very sore. For what did Tom's departure mean for her? +It meant parting from all she had on earth; it meant a life of utter +loneliness and lovelessness, save for the dear outside friends she +could see so seldom. It was Lucy's nature ever to unselfishly bury +her own troubles and try to join in the happiness of others. + +<p>"A fortnight only," she said to herself as she went back to her work. +"What will become of me?" + +<p>The days sped fleetly for her, but slowly for Tom, who was eager to +be gone. Mr. Robert Keane paid frequent visits to Thankful Rest, and +all arrangements were satisfactorily made. Lucy went about, saying +little, and preserving her sweet serenity to the last. She busied +herself with Tom's small wardrobe, adding a touch here and there to +make it complete; and wept bitter tears over her work, as many +another sister has done before and since. It was not till the last +night that a thought of her came to cloud Tom's sky. They were +sitting together at the stove in the fading twilight, Lucy's face +very grave and sad. + +<p>"I say Lucy, though," Tom said, "how awfully lonely it will be for +you when I'm gone. Why, whatever will you <i><b>do</b></i>?" + +<p>"Think of you, and look for your letters," she said, her lips +quivering. "You will not forget me altogether, Tom?" + +<p>A pang of remorse shot through Tom's heart. He came to her side and +threw one arm round her, remembering how his mother's last charge had +been to take care of Lucy, and how poorly he had done it after all. +Lucy had taken care of him instead. + +<p>"Lucy, I'm a perfectly horrid boy," he said in a queer, quick way. +"Don't you hate me?" + +<p>"Hate you? O Tom, I've nobody but you." + +<p>Her sunny head drooped a moment against his arm, and her tears fell +without restraint. "I didn't mean to, Tom," she said at last, looking +up with a faint smile, "but I couldn't help it. I feel dreadful to +think of you going away." + +<p>"When I'm a man, Lucy," he said manfully, "what a perfectly stunning +little home you and I shall have together. It won't be so long—why, +I'm thirteen." + +<p>"Only about ten or twelve years," said Lucy, able to laugh now. "I +shall be gray-haired long before that time." + +<p>"You! why, you'll be the same as you are at fifty. You are like +mamma; she never grew any older-looking. You must write often, mind, +Lucy, and tell me all about everything and everybody." + +<p>Lucy promised, and, feeling very sad again, rose to light the lamp in +case she should break down. Aunt Hepsy was wonderfully kind that +night—she could be kind sometimes if she liked—and, altogether, the +evening passed pleasantly. Tom went to bed early, as they were to +start by the morning train. Lucy followed almost immediately. About +half-an-hour afterwards Aunt Hepsy went upstairs to put a forgotten +article into Tom's trunk, and was arrested by sounds in Lucy's room. +The door was a little ajar, and Aunt Hepsy peered in. Lucy was +undressed and sitting at the window, her arms on the dressing-table, +and her whole frame shaking with sobs. Once or twice Aunt Hepsy heard +the word "Mamma." The passion of grief and longing in the girl's +voice made something come into Aunt Hepsy's throat, and she slipped +noiselessly downstairs. + +<p>"I don't feel easy in my mind, Josh," she said when she re-entered +the kitchen. "I'm feared we've been rayther hard on Hetty's children. +She never did us any harm." + +<p>"Did I say she did, Hepsy?" asked Uncle Josh, serenely puffing away +at his pipe. "You was allus the worst at her and at the children. Ye +put upon that Lucy in a perfectly awful way." + +<p>"Shut up," said Miss Hepsy in a tone which admitted of no further +remark, and the subject dropped. + +<p>There was a great bustle in the morning, and before Lucy had time to +think about anything Tom had kissed her for the last time, and the +waggon drove away. He waved his handkerchief to her till they were +out of sight; and then she went back to the house sad and pale and +cheerless. + +<p>"I guess you needn't fly round much to-day, Lucy," said Aunt Hepsy +with unusual thoughtfulness. "Ye don't look very spry, and feel down +a bit. Never mind, he ain't away for ever." + +<p>"Thank you, Aunt Hepsy," said Lucy gently. "I'd rather work, if you +please. It takes up my mind better. Let me wash these dishes." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy surmised the tears were kept for the loneliness of her own +chamber. She was right. Only to her mother's God did Lucy Hurst pour +out all her grief, and from Him sought the help and comfort none can +give so well as He.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="12">XII.</a><br> +<br> +WEARY DAYS.</center> +<br> +<p>The unusual softening of heart and manner visible in Aunt Hepsy at +the time of Tom's departure disappeared before the lapse of many +days. You see, she had gone on in the old, sour, cross-grained way so +long, she felt most at home in it. She did not <i><b>feel</b></i> unkindly +towards gentle, patient Lucy; but her manner was so ungracious, and +her words so sharp, you will not wonder that Lucy could not read +beneath the surface. She was very quiet, very sober, and very +listless; striving, too, to do her duties as well as aforetime, but +lacking physical strength. Tom's letters, frequent and full of hope +and happiness, were the chief solace of the girl's lonely life. Mr. +and Miss Goldthwaite came sometimes yet to Thankful Rest; but these +were family visits, and Lucy had few opportunities of quiet talk with +her friends. Many invitations had come from the Red House, but to +each and all Aunt Hepsy returned a peremptory refusal. + +<p>"I'm not going to have her learn to fly round for ever at folks' +houses. She has plenty to do at home, and she'll do it, you take my +word for it. Tell Judge Keane's folks I'm mighty obliged to them, but +Lucy can't come. Let that be an end of it." So she said to Miss +Goldthwaite one day; and she carried the message, slightly modified, +to Mrs. Keane. So the days and weeks slipped away, till Winter had to +hide his diminished head before the harbingers of Spring. In the +closing days of March the ice broke up on the river, and all nature +seemed to spring to life again. Green blades and tiny blossoms began +to peep above ground, and the birds sang their songs of gladness on +the budding boughs. It was a busy time at Thankful Rest, both indoors +and out. In the first week of April began that awful revolution, Miss +Hepsy Strong's spring-cleaning. It was her boast that she could +accomplish in one week what other housewives could accomplish only in +three. For every half-idle hour Lucy had enjoyed during the winter +she had to atone now; for Aunt Hepsy kept her sweeping, and scouring, +and dusting, and trotting upstairs and down, till the girl's strength +almost failed her. She did not complain, however, and Aunt Hepsy was +too much absorbed to see that her powers were overtaxed. The cleaning +was triumphantly concluded on Saturday night, and Lucy crept away +early to bed, but was unable to sleep from fatigue. She came +downstairs next morning so wan and white that Aunt Hepsy feared she +was going to turn sick on her hands. But Lucy said she was well +enough, and would go to church as usual. Thinking she looked really +ill, Miss Goldthwaite came round to the porch after the service. + +<p>"Lucy, what is it, child? your face is quite white. Do you feel well +enough?" + +<p>Lucy smiled a little, and slipping her hand through Miss +Goldthwaite's arm, walked with her down the path. + +<p>"This has been cleaning week," she said in explanation, "and I have +had more to do than usual. I daresay I'll be all right now." + +<p>But Miss Goldthwaite did not feel satisfied, and said so to her +brother at the tea-table that night. + +<p>"I'm going up to Thankful Rest, Frank, to tell Miss Hepsy to be +careful of Lucy. It is time somebody told her; she grows so thin, +and, I notice, eats nothing." + +<p>Mr. Goldthwaite's anxiety exceeded his sister's, if that were +possible, but he said very little. Accordingly, next afternoon Miss +Goldthwaite betook herself to Thankful Rest. Finding the garden gate +locked, she went round by the back, and in the yard encountered Lucy +bending under the weight of two pails of water. She set them down on +beholding Miss Goldthwaite; and Carrie noticed that her hand was +pressed to her side, and that her breath came very fast. + +<p>"You are not fit to carry these, Lucy," said she very gravely. "Is +there nobody but you?" + +<p>"I have been washing some curtains and things to-day, Miss +Goldthwaite, and Aunt Hepsy thinks the water from the spring in the +low meadow better for rinsing them in." + +<p>"Does she?" said Miss Goldthwaite, and her sweet lips closed together +more sternly than Lucy had ever seen them do before. + +<p>Lucy passed into the wash-house with her pails, and Miss Goldthwaite +went into the house without knocking. Miss Hepsy was making +buckwheats, and greeted her visitor pleasantly enough. She sat down +in the window, turned her eyes on Miss Hepsy's face, and said +bluntly,— + +<p>"I'm going to say something which will likely vex you, Miss Hepsy, +but I can't help it. I've been wanting to say it this long time." + +<p>Miss Hepsy did not look surprised, or even curious, she only said +calmly,— + +<p>"It wouldn't be the first time you've vexed me, Miss Goldthwaite, by +a long chalk." + +<p>"It's about Lucy, Miss Hepsy," continued Miss Goldthwaite. "Can't you +see she's hardly fit to do a hand's turn at work? I met her out there +carrying a load she was no more fit to carry than that kitten." + +<p>"Ain't she?" inquired Miss Hepsy quite unmoved. "What else?" + +<p>"There she is; I see her through the door. Look at her, and <i><b>see</b></i> if +she is well. If she doesn't get rest and that speedily, she'll go +into a decline, as sure as I sit here. I had a sister," said Carrie +with a half sob, "who died of decline, and she looked exactly as Lucy +does." + +<p>Miss Hepsy walked from the dresser to the stove and back again before +she spoke. "When did you find out, Miss Goldthwaite, that Hepsy +Strong could not mind her own affairs and her own folks?" + +<p>It was said in Miss Hepsy's most disagreeable manner, which was very +disagreeable indeed; but Miss Goldthwaite did not intend to be +disconcerted so soon. + +<p>"You have a kind heart, I know, Miss Hepsy, though you show it so +seldom. You must know Lucy's value by this time, and if you haven't +learned to love her, I don't know what you are made of. Be gentle +with her, Miss Hepsy; she is very young—and she has no mother." + +<p>Miss Hepsy's temper was up, and she heard the gentle pleading +unmoved. + +<p>"Ye've meddled a good deal wi' me, Miss Goldthwaite," she said +slowly, "and I've never told ye to mind yer own business before, but +I tell ye now. An' though ye are the parson's sister, ye say things I +can't stand. Ye'd better be goin'; an' ye needn't come to Thankful +Rest again till ye can let me an' my concerns alone." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite rose at once, not angry, only grieved and +disappointed. + +<p>"Good-bye, then, Miss Hepsy. It was only my love for Lucy made me +speak. I'm sorry I've offended you. She is a dear, good girl. Some +day, perhaps, you will be sorry you did not listen to my words," she +said, and went away. + +<p>Not many words, good or bad, did Aunt Hepsy speak in the house that +night. Lucy, busy with her mending, wondered what had passed that +afternoon that Miss Goldthwaite's stay had been so brief. Aunt +Hepsy's eyes rested keenly on Lucy's pale, sweet face more than once, +and she was forced to admit that it was paler and thinner and more +worn-looking than it need be. But she hardened her heart, and refused +to obey its more kindly promptings. A few more days went by. Lucy +grew weaker, and flagged in her work; and Aunt Hepsy watched her, and +<i><b>would not</b></i> be the first to take needful steps. On Sunday morning +Lucy did not come downstairs at the usual time, and even the +clattering of breakfast dishes failed to bring her. At length Aunt +Hepsy went upstairs. Lucy was still in bed. + +<p>"Are you sick, child?" said Aunt Hepsy in a strange quick voice. + +Lucy answered very feebly,—"I'm afraid I'm goin' to be, Aunt Hepsy. +I tried to get up, but I couldn't; and I haven't slept any all +night." + +<p>"Where do you feel ill?" + +<p>"All over," said the girl wearily. "I've felt so for a long time, but +I tried to go about. Are you angry because I'm going to be sick, Aunt +Hepsy? It'll be a bother to you; but perhaps I'm going to mamma." + +<p>"Do you want to kill me outright, Lucy?" said her aunt; and even in +her weakness Lucy opened her eyes wide in surprise. "If you speak +about goin' to yer ma again," she said, "ye will kill me. Ye've got +to lie there an' get better as fast as you like. I'll send for Dr. +Gair, an' nurse ye night and day." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy could have said a great deal more, but a something in her +throat prevented her. She went downstairs immediately, and despatched +the boy for Dr. Gair. During his absence, she endeavoured to induce +Lucy to take some breakfast, but in vain. + +<p>"I'm real sick, Aunt Hepsy," she said. "Just let me lie still. I +don't want anything but just to be quiet." + +<p>Within the hour Dr. Gair came to Thankful Rest, for Miss Hepsy's +message had been urgent. He was an old man, blunt-mannered, but truly +tenderhearted, and a great favourite in the township. He had not been +once at Thankful Rest since Deacon Strong's death, for neither the +brother nor sister had ever had a day's illness in their lives. He +made his examination of Lucy in a few minutes, and Miss Hepsy watched +with a sinking heart how very grave his face was when he turned to +her. He had few questions to ask, and these Lucy answered as simply +as she could. + +<p>"Am I going to be very sick, Dr. Gair?" said Lucy. + +<p>"Yes, my dear; but please God, we may pull you through," said the old +man softly. "In the meantime I can't do much; I'll look in again in +the afternoon." + +<p>Miss Hepsy followed him in silence down the stairs, and he drew on +his gloves in the lobby without speaking. + +<p>"This is a case of gross neglect, Miss Strong," he said at length. +"The girl's delicate frame is thoroughly exhausted by over-fatigue +and want of attention." + +<p>"Tell me something I don't know, Dr. Gair," said she sharply. + +<p>"And if she recovers, of which I am more than doubtful," he continued +sternly, "it is to be hoped you will turn over a new leaf in your +treatment of her. I am a plain man, Miss Strong, not given to gilding +a bitter pill. If your niece dies, you may take home the blame to +yourself. Good morning." + +<p>"I know all that, my good man, better than you can tell me," said +Aunt Hepsy grimly. "You do your best to bring her round, an' I won't +forget it. I've been a wicked woman, Dr. Gair, an' I s'pose the +Lord's goin' to punish me now; an' he couldn't have chosen a surer +way than by sending sickness to Lucy. Good morning." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy shut the door, and went into the kitchen. There Joshua sat +anxiously awaiting the doctor's verdict. + +<p>"There ain't much hope, Josh," she said briefly. + +<p>"Ain't there, Hepsy? It's a bad job for the little 'un." + +<p>"An' for more than her, I reckon," returned his sister shortly. "I've +lived one and forty years at Thankful Rest, Josh, an' I never felt as +I do this day. I'd a mighty deal rather be sick myself than see the +child's white face. If she gets round, I'll be a better woman, with +the Lord's help. How He's borne with me so long's a marvel I can't +comprehend. One and forty years, Josh Strong, and Lucy jes' fifteen. +She's done a deal more good in one day o' her life than you or me +ever did in all ours. The Lord forgive us, Josh, an' help us to make +a better use o' what's left. Jes' step down to Pendlepoint, will ye, +an' ask the parson an' his sister up. I guess Lucy'd be pleased to +see 'em. One an' forty years, dear, dear; an' Lucy jes' fifteen." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy went out wiping her eyes, and stole upstairs again to +Lucy.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="13">XIII.</a><br> +<br> +LUCY FINDS THE KEY.</center><br> + +<p>For several days a great shadow lay on Thankful Rest while Lucy +hovered between life and death. Everything human care and skill could +suggest was done, and the issue was in God's hands. Miss Goldthwaite +had come up to Thankful Rest on Sunday, and had stayed, because Lucy +seemed to be happier when she was by. Callers were innumerable, and a +messenger came from the Red House every morning asking a bulletin. +What Aunt Hepsy suffered during those days I do not suppose anybody +ever guessed. It was her way to hide her feelings always, but she +would sit or stand looking at the sick girl with eyes which ought to +have brought her back to health. Uncle Josh was in and out fifty +times a day, and things outside were allowed to manage themselves; +all interest centred in the little attic chamber and its suffering +occupant. She lay in a kind of stupor most part of the day, only +moaning at times with the pain Dr. Gair was powerless to relieve. She +grew perceptibly weaker, and they feared to leave her a moment, lest +she should slip away while they were gone. So the days went by till +Sunday came round again. Dr. Gair came early that morning, and +looked, if possible, graver than usual. + +<p>"If she lives till evening," he said to the anxious watchers, "she +will recover, but I cannot give you much hope. Administer this +medicine every two hours; it is all I can do. I will be back before +night." + +<p>In after years Aunt Hepsy was wont to say that Sunday was the longest +day she had ever spent in her life. I think others felt so too. +Slowly the hours went round. Even into the darkened room the spring +sunshine would peep, and the twittering of the birds in the orchard +broke the oppressive stillness. At four o'clock the doctor came +again. Save for the almost imperceptible breathing, Lucy lay so pale +and still that they almost thought her dead. At sunset she moved +uneasily, and with a great sigh lifted her heavy lids and looked +round the room. A sob burst from Aunt Hepsy's lips, and Carrie +Goldthwaite's tears fell fast, for Dr. Gair's face said she was +saved. Her lips moved, and he bent down to catch the faintly murmured +words,— + +<p>"Have I been sick a long time? I am going to get well now." + +<p>The doctor nodded and smiled. "God has been very good to you—to us +all—my child," he said. "He has heard the prayers of those who love +you." + +<p>Carrie came to the bedside then, and bending over her, kissed her +once with streaming eyes. Aunt Hepsy moved to the window and drew up +the blind, and the red glow of the setting sun crept into the room, +and lay bright and beautiful on Lucy's face. + +<p>"I am glad to see the sun again," said Lucy wearily. "I seem to have +been sick so long. May I go to sleep now, Dr. Gair?" + +<p>"Yes; and sleep a week if you like," he said cheerily.—"Rest and +care now, Miss Strong, is all she needs to bring her round." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy made no reply whatever. She stood still in the window, her +face softened into a strange, thankful tenderness, and her heart +lifting itself up in gratitude to God, and in many an earnest +resolution for the future. She followed Dr. Gair downstairs, as she +had done that day a week before, and as he passed out caught his hand +in a grip of iron. "I'm a woman of few words, Dr. Gair," she said +abruptly, "but I won't forget what you've done for me an' mine." + +<p>"God first, Miss Strong," said the doctor gravely; and then he added +with an odd little smile, "Lucy's lines will be in pleasant places +now, I fancy?" + +<p>"If they ain't, I'll know the reason why," said she grimly. "Good +evening." + +<p>Lucy's sleep that night was calm and refreshing, and when Dr. Gair +came again in the morning he expressed himself pleased with her +condition. Miss Goldthwaite brought up a breakfast tray with a cup of +weak tea and a piece of toast, of which Lucy was able to eat a little +bit. She had fifty questions to ask; but remembering Dr. Gair's +peremptory orders, Carrie placed a finger on her lips and shook her +head. There would be plenty of time to talk by-and-by, for +convalescence would be a tedious business; in the meantime there was +absolute need of perfect rest. Miss Goldthwaite brought her sewing, +and sat down in the window seat, humming a scrap of song, the outcome +of the gladness of her heart. Lucy lay still in a state of dreamy +happiness, listening to the twittering of the birds mingling with +Carrie's song, and watching the gay April sunbeams dancing among her +golden curls. By-and-by Aunt Hepsy came up, and Lucy looked at her +curiously. She seemed to dimly remember that during the days of the +past week a face like Aunt Hepsy's had bent over her in love and +tenderness, and a voice like hers, only infinitely softer and +gentler, had spoken broken words of grief and prayer at her bedside. +Aunt Hepsy, just yet, did not meet Lucy's wondering eyes, nor speak +any words to her at all. She moved softly about the room, putting +things to rights deftly and silently; but Lucy was sure there was +something different about her. + +<p>Immediately after the early dinner, seeing Lucy so much better, Miss +Goldthwaite bethought herself of her neglected household at +Pendlepoint, and said she would go home, promising to come again +to-morrow. Her eyes were full of tears as she bent over to bid Lucy +good-bye, and she whispered tenderly,— + +<p>"My darling, what a load I shall lift from anxious hearts at +Pendlepoint to-night. You don't know how dear you are to us all." + +<p>Lucy smiled a little in a happy way; to her heart evidences of love +were very precious. She was left alone for nearly a couple of hours, +while Aunt Hepsy washed up dishes and set things right downstairs she +fell into a light doze, and when she awoke, it was to find Aunt Hepsy +sitting by her side with her knitting. + +<p>"Have I been sleeping, Aunt Hepsy?" she said. "You don't know how +well I feel. I could almost get up, I think." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy laughed a little tremulous laugh. + +<p>"In about a month or so, I guess, you'll begin to think about getting +up," she said; and again something in Aunt Hepsy's face set Lucy +wondering <i><b>what</b></i> was different about her. There was a short silence, +then Aunt Hepsy laid down her knitting, and took both Lucy's thin +hands in her firm clasp. "Lucy, do you think ye can ever forgive yer +old aunt?" she said suddenly and quickly. "I've been a cross, +hardhearted old fool, an' the Lord's been better to me than I dared +to hope for. He's heard my prayers, Lucy, an' he knows how hard I +mean to try and make up for the past. If ye'll say ye forgive me, and +try to care a little for me, ye'll maybe find Thankful Rest a +pleasanter place than ye think it now." + +<p>"O Aunt Hepsy, don't say any more," pleaded Lucy, her eyes growing +dim. "I'm so glad I've been sick, because you've learned to love me a +little." + +<p>So the barrier was broken down, and in the ensuing days these two +became very dear to each other; and Lucy grew to understand Aunt +Hepsy, and to see how much good there lay beneath her grim exterior. +The door of Aunt Hepsy's heart had long been locked, and like other +unused things, had grown rusty on its hinges. But Lucy had found the +key, and entered triumphantly at last.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="14">XIV.</a><br> +<br> +A GREAT CHANGE.</center> +<br> +<p>You will be wondering what Tom had been about during his sister's +illness; but he was still in ignorance of it, his friends thinking it +best to wait till the crisis was past. It fell to Aunt Hepsy's lot to +send the news, and her letter was such a curiosity in its way that I +cannot do better than set it down just as it was.<br><br> + +<br> +<blockquote> +THANKFUL REST, <i><b>April 18th, 18—</b></i>. +<br><br> +MY DEAR NEPHEW,—I daresay you'll wonder to hear from me, an' will +maybe feel skeered; so, to relieve you, I may as well say at once +that Lucy's been sick, very sick, but she's getting round nicely now, +thank the Lord. She is in bed yet, and I'm writing this beside her. +She sends her love, and says she'll write to-morrow. I guess I'll let +her do it in about a month. I want to ask you to forgive me for being +so hard on you when you lived here. I hope you don't bear your old +aunt any grudge. Lucy, God bless her, won't hear me abuse myself, so +it's a relief to do it to you, though you are a boy. I keep that +picter you drew of me that I slapped you for, an' I'll look at it +when I feel my pesky temper gettin' up. I suppose ye'll be so took up +with your paintin' ye couldn't never think of coming back to Thankful +Rest. It wouldn't be good for you, if you're getting on any way with +Mr. Robert Keane. But you'll come right away in summer, an' see what +a different place Lucy has made of Thankful Rest, an' how precious +she is to your uncle an' me. I guess she's one of the Lord's +messengers, sent to do what all the preachin' in the world couldn't. +I reckon I'll finish up. It has took me an hour to write this, I'm so +slow with the pen. Give my respects to Mr. Robert Keane; and when he +comes to Thankful Rest in summer, maybe he'll get a better welcome +than he got before. So no more at present. From your affectionate +aunt, +<br><br> + + + + + + + +HEPSEY +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>That letter reached Boston Avenue in the evening, when Tom was poring +over a book of instructions for young artists. He was in his own +sanctum, which Mr. Keane had given him when he came—a tiny apartment +next the artist's studio, and commanding from its window the finest +view in Philadelphia. Tom seized the letter from the servant's hand. +He had written twice to Lucy, and was anxiously wondering at her +delay in answering, for Lucy had always been a faithful and punctual +correspondent. + +<p>You would have laughed had you seen the varying expressions on Tom's +face as he read Aunt Hepsy's epistle;—concern at first to hear Lucy +was ill; relief to find her recovering; and, last of all, mute, +dumfoundered amazement at Aunt Hepsy. + +<p>Mr. Keane opened his studio by-and-by and looked out. + +<p>"Well, Tom, news from Lucy at last, my boy?" he asked. + +<p>"No, sir," said Tom soberly, yet with an odd twinkle in his eye; and +then he held out the open letter, saying simply, "Read that, Mr. +Keane." + +<p>Mr. Keane smiled too as he read. "Lucy has conquered, as I thought +she would," he said. "See, Tom, what an influence a meek, gentle, +loving spirit like Lucy's has in the world. You and I with our fiery +tempers sink into nothingness beside her." + +<p>"You, Mr. Keane!" echoed Tom in amazement. "I don't think you have a +temper at all." + +<p>"Haven't I?" The artist's smile grew sad. "There was a boy once who +was expelled from three schools for impertinence and insubordination, +and put his parents to the expense of keeping a tutor for him at +home. That tutor, Tom, was a man of splendid talents, which his +delicate health forbade him to exercise as he desired. His pupil +killed him, Tom; the worry and anxiety lest he should not come up to +the parents' expectation, combined with what he had to bear from the +boy himself, broke his health down, and he died. That boy was <i><b>me</b></i>." + +<p>Tom sat wondering, while Mr. Keane, walking to and fro, continued +slowly—"I went to see him when he was dying, in his poor lodging: he +was very poor, you must understand, but nobody durst offer him +anything, lest he should feel hurt or insulted. As long as I live, +Tom, I shall never forget that night. I saw then clearly how wicked I +had been, and how what I thought manly independence befitting my +station was only the cowardice of a spirit as far beneath his as +earth is beneath heaven. That was a lesson I never forgot; and since +that night I have tried, with God's help, to use the legacy he left +me." + +<p>"What was it?" asked Tom breathlessly. + +<p>Mr. Keane lifted Lucy's Bible from the side-table, and turning over +the pages held it out to Tom, his finger pointing to the place. + +<p>"Tom," said Mr. Keane one morning a few days later, "I believe you +are going to Pendlepoint tomorrow?" + +<p>"What?" Tom nearly bounded off his chair. The longing to go home to +Lucy for a day or two had well-nigh overcome him since Aunt Hepsy's +letter came; but he had tried to stifle it, and had applied himself +with double energy to his studies. + +<p>"If you don't wish to go, of course I have no more to say," began Mr. +Keane; but Tom interrupted him— + +<p>"O sir, you don't mean me to go home for good and all, I hope; have I +disappointed you? I have tried so hard, sir." + +<p>"Stop, stop!" cried Mr. Keane. "Wait till I hint at such a thing. You +have surpassed my expectations, my boy. I thought you would like to +see your sister, but if I am mistaken—" + +<p>"I do want to go, sir; I would give the world almost to see +her—but—" + +<p>"Well?" + +<p>"The expense, sir," Tom ventured to say, encouraged by his kind +friend's manner. "It is a long journey, and I have cost you so much +already." + +<p>"Nonsense; I am a rich man, Tom. But for all that I expect you to pay +me back some day. You and I will have a great reckoning by-and-by." + +<p>There was a moment's silence. + +<p>"How did you know I wanted to go home, Mr. Keane?" said Tom +by-and-by. + +<p>"I have eyes, my boy," was all Mr. Keane answered, saying nothing of +a note he had received from his sister, which ran thus:—</p> + +<br> +<blockquote> +RED HOUSE, <i><b>April 27th</b></i>.<br> +<br> +DEAR ROBERT,—Send Tom to Thankful Rest for a few days. Lucy will +get well twice as fast after she sees him.—Your affectionate sister,<br> +<br> + + + + + + + +ALICE. +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Next morning saw a very happy boy take his place in the train, which +would land him at Pendlepoint in the evening. It was a long, tiresome +journey, especially to an impatient being like Tom. But it came to an +end, as all things pleasant or unpleasant must, and he found himself +at the little old-fashioned depot towards seven o'clock at night. +There was no one to meet him, of course, because no one, not even +Miss Keane, expected him so soon. He ran all the way to the +parsonage, and knocked at the door, only to find Abbie in sole +possession. + +<p>"The parson he be down town, Master Tom," she said, "and Miss Carrie +she be at Thankful Rest. I guess she's there most days till night." + +<p>Tom thanked her and ran off again across the bridge and through the +meadow, not even pausing to look at the cattle, nor to see that Sally +was enjoying an unwonted holiday, and a dainty bite at the tender +young grass, which the mild weather had brought forward very fast. He +paused just a moment outside the orchard fence, and looked at the +house, not a little surprised to feel how glad he was to see it +again, and how dear it was to him after all. Then he pushed open the +gate, went up the path and over the garden fence, and saw Uncle Josh +digging the potato patch. + +<p>"Halloo, Uncle Josh!" he shouted, feeling quite jovial and free +towards him; and Uncle Josh started up and let his spade fall from +his hands. + +<p>"Marcy, younker, whar did ye come from?" was all he could utter. But, +no longer the surly man that he had been, he held out his hand to +him, and looked more than pleased to see him. + +<p>"I came from Philadelphia to see Lucy," answered Tom soberly. "How is +she?" + +<p>"Oh, gettin' along fast; she's in the far parlour these two days, +able to sit up till 'most night. I guess she won't be sot up to see +ye—oh no, not at all." + +<p>There was a twinkle in Uncle Josh's eye, a thing Tom had never seen +before. Surely there <i><b>was</b></i> a change at Thankful Rest. + +<p>"I'll go in now," said Tom; and he went away round to the back door. +Keziah was making something at the stove, and nearly upset the +saucepan in her amazement. Tom nodded to her, and went off to the far +parlour. The door was ajar and he peeped in. Was <i><b>that</b></i> the far +parlour? No, it could not be. There were white curtains at the +window, flowers everywhere. A sparkling fire in the high brass grate; +a low, restful rocking-chair at the hearth; and a couch he did not +remember to have seen before, but it looked as if it had been made +for ease and comfort. And on the couch lay Lucy, the fire-light +dancing on her face: it was pale and thin, but happy-looking, he +could see. + +<p>She heard a noise at the door, and said, without looking round, "Are +you dressed already, Miss Carrie? How fast you have been!" + +<p>There was no answer; then Lucy looked round and gave a great cry. And +Tom ran in and knelt down beside her, and gathered her shawl and all +in his arms, and they held each other very close; and for a long time +there was nothing said. + +<p>"How did you come?" asked Lucy at last, her face radiant with joy. + +<p>"By train. Mr. Keane sent me. Are you glad, Lucy?" + +<p>"Glad?" Lucy had no words wherewith to express her gladness, but it +was evident enough. + +<p>Just then footsteps sounded on the stair, and Miss Hepsy came into +the room followed by Miss Goldthwaite. + +<p>She looked scared a moment, but when Tom rose and came to her +saying—"I came to see Lucy, Aunt Hepsy, and to thank you for being +so good to her,"—she just sat down in the rocking-chair and sobbed +like a child. Here was a state of matters! and Tom did not know just +then whether to laugh or to cry. But Miss Carrie diverted him by +asking questions about his journey, and by-and-by Miss Hepsy rose and +said she'd get supper. + +<p>"An' ye'll jist bide, Miss Goldthwaite, an' we'll all have it here +with Lucy.—Dear, dear, this is a great night. Who'd 'a thought to +see you, Tom, all the way from Philadelphia?" + +<p>"You look pretty comfortable, Lucy," said Tom jokingly. "I wouldn't +mind being sick myself, to be codled up like this." + +<p>Lucy smiled, but her eyes grew dim. + +<p>"I can't speak about it, Tom," she said. "Aunt Hepsy is too good to +me; she reminds me of mamma sometimes.—Isn't she kind, Miss Carrie?" + +<p>Miss Carrie nodded, her sweet face full of satisfaction. Evidently +the new state of affairs was after her own heart. + +<p>By-and-by the table was set, and they all gathered round it, and Tom +had a real Thankful Rest supper. + +<p>There was not much said; but Tom saw how Aunt Hepsy watched and +tended Lucy; and how Uncle Josh, too, had grown gentle even in his +roughness; and, above all, he saw how beautiful was Lucy's face in +its perfect happiness and content. + +<p>"You don't eat, Lucy, my pet," said Aunt Hepsy anxiously. + +<p>"I can't, auntie; I am so happy, it's no use;" and Lucy covered her +face with her hands and fairly sobbed. + +<p>Then Tom rose to his feet, and gave vent to a cheer which would have +done honour to an Englishman. + +<p>"Bless me, boy, ye'll bring the house down," said Aunt Hepsy, but not +looking at all displeased. + +<p>"Can't help it, Aunt Hepsy; it's surplus steam; must let it off, or I +can't answer for the consequences." And he cheered again and again, +till Keziah ran to see what was the matter. She went back to the +kitchen saying to herself, "When I see an' hear that here, I feel +like believin', Deacon Frost, that the world's comin' to an end." + +<p>Not the world exactly, Keziah, only the old, hard, miserable days +have come to an end for ever, and a new era has begun at Thankful +Rest.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="15">XV.</a><br> +<br> +THE WEDDING.</center> +<br> +<p>Tom stayed a week at home—<i><b>home</b></i> it truly was to both Lucy and him +now, and he left it with regret. But the work he loved and had chosen +called him away, and knowing Lucy would be tenderly cared for, he +went back to Philadelphia, carrying a much lighter heart than when he +first entered it three months before. The summer would be a busy one +for him; and as the months sped he proved the truth of Mr. Keane's +words, that it was only through much hard, plodding, uninteresting +work, that he could ever hope to place his foot on the first step of +the ladder. But he had a kind hand and an encouraging word always +ready to help him on, and was happy in his apprenticeship. + +<p>Thanks to Aunt Hepsy's careful nursing, midsummer saw Lucy fully +restored to health again. She had an easy and happy time of it now. +There was no more trotting up and down, no more bending under heavy +loads—it was only very light work her hands were permitted to do; +and she would laugh and tell Aunt Hepsy she was making a fine lady of +her altogether. + +<p>"You do what you're bid, an' say nothin', my dear," was always Aunt +Hepsy's answer, with oh, what a difference in look and tone. + +<p>There was no restriction to her visiting now. She would spend days at +the Red House, in company with her friend Minnie; who, in her turn, +would come to Thankful Rest, and keep the house alive with her gay +nonsense. + +<p>So the summer sped, harvest was ingathered again, and one sunny +evening in September, Miss Goldthwaite came up to Thankful Rest on +special business. Rumours were afloat that the parsonage was soon to +lose Miss Carrie, but they had not yet been confirmed. + +<p>Miss Hepsy was in the garden, and gave the parson's sister a warm +greeting. + +<p>"Is Lucy indoors?" Carrie asked, after they had chatted a moment. + +<p>"Yes; I heard her singing a minute ago," answered Aunt Hepsy. "Jes' +go in and look for her, Miss Goldthwaite; I'll be in by-and-by." + +<p>"Perhaps I had better talk to you first, Miss Hepsy, as you have the +power to grant or refuse what I want." + +<p>"I don't often say no to ye, Miss Carrie," said Aunt Hepsy with a dry +smile. + +<p>"I know it; but this is a very serious request—in fact, I am afraid +to make it." + +<p>"Out with it. I can but say no any way." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite leaned on her parasol, and looked at Aunt Hepsy, +smiling, and blushing slightly too. + +<p>"Perhaps you know I'm going to be married soon, Miss Hepsy?" + +<p>"I hear the folks sayin' so; but I paid no heed, guessin' ye'd come +an' tell us afore it took place. Is't to be immediately?" + +<p>"At Christmas. But I'm going home to New York in three weeks." + +<p>"To get ready," nodded Miss Hepsy. "Well?" + +<p>"Can't you guess what I want, Miss Hepsy?" + +<p>Miss Hepsy stood a moment in wondering silence, and then said very +slowly, "I guess it'll be Lucy ye want." + +<p>"Yes; I want her to go home with me, and remain till after my +marriage. Frank will bring her back when he comes. Now it's out. +Order me off the premises now, Miss Hepsy; I know you feel like it." + +<p>"This is September," said Aunt Hepsy very slowly; "October, November, +December, January—perhaps nigh half a year. Well, Miss Goldthwaite, +excuse me sayin' it, but the Lord'll need to help your husband; he'll +not be able to help hisself, that's certain. Ye'd move the Peak, as +I've said afore." + +<p>"Am I to take that as your permission, Miss Hepsy?" + +<p>"Hev ye spoke to Lucy?" + +<p>"Not yet; you had to be asked first. If you had said no, I should not +have thought of mentioning it to Lucy at all." + +<p>"If Lucy wants to go, I'm willin'; but it'll be a queer house without +her." + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, and bent forward and kissed +her. "I think you will not regret it. It will soon pass, and will do +Lucy a world of good. She is growing up, you know, and wants to see +something." + +<p>"P'raps you're right," said Aunt Hepsy. "Yes, go in now, Miss +Goldthwaite; I want to think a bit." + +<p>Carrie went in, and kneeling down on the hearth beside Lucy, said +abruptly, "I am going to be married at Christmas, Lucy, and want you +for my bridesmaid. I am going home to New York in three weeks, and +your aunt says I may take you with me. Will you come?" + +<p>Lucy's face flushed with pleasure, but she said quickly,— + +<p>"You are very kind, Carrie. I should like it dearly. But would it be +right to leave my uncle and aunt?" + +<p>"If they say you may, Lucy. I have thought it well over before I +mentioned it at all; and I'm sure you would enjoy yourself." + +<p>"I know that. May I have a day or two to think of it, Carrie?" + +<p>"As many as you like, so that you only come, dear. Now, I'm going +off; I haven't a minute to spare.—By-the-by, Alice and Minnie will +likely be at papa's, too, all December, so that is another +inducement. Goodbye." She stooped and kissed Lucy, and ran out of the +house. + +<p>Pretty soon Aunt Hepsy came in, looking very grave and sad. She took +up her knitting, and for a bit neither spoke. + +<p>"Three months is a long time, Aunt Hepsy," said Lucy at last. + +<p>Aunt Hepsy never spoke. + +<p>Then Lucy rose and came to her, and laid her arm about her neck. "You +don't want me to go, auntie, I know you don't." + +<p>"Go away; I didn't say I didn't," said Aunt Hepsy in her gruffest +tones. + +<p>"Auntie, if you will only tell me you would rather I stayed, I won't +go." + +<p>"Don't ask questions, child. I guess I'd never live through them +three months. As well go away for ever almost." + +<p>"Then I won't go," said Lucy stoutly. "I'd dearly like to be at +Carrie's wedding; but I can't leave you, auntie, for so long." And +from that decision no persuasion could induce Lucy to depart—she was +firm as a rock; but Aunt Hepsy made a little private arrangement of +her own, which was to be kept a profound secret from the bride-elect. + +<p>Judge Keane travelled to New York the day before Christmas with a +young lady under his care; and when the pair were ushered into Dr. +Goldthwaite's drawing-room, the bride-elect saw, peeping out from +among the rich furs which Aunt Hepsy had provided for her darling, a +face she loved very dearly, and which could belong to nobody in the +world but Lucy Hurst. + +<p>They were all together in the long drawing-room, waiting only the +coming of the bride, ere the solemn ceremony could be performed. +There was a large company, for the Goldthwaites had a wide circle of +acquaintance. Conspicuous among them were the friends we know +best—all the Keanes (save the invalid mother, who thought and prayed +for them at home), and Tom and Lucy Hurst. It had been a surprise to +Lucy to find him at New York. She had not expected to see him again +till the summer-time. She looked very fair and sweet in her delicate +white dress, but was utterly unconscious of the admiration she was +creating; and of the close observation of a pair of dark earnest +eyes, which had been the first gleam of comfort to her when her +mother died. + +<p>By-and-by, old white-haired Dr. Goldthwaite came in with Carrie on +his arm, and they took their places silently; and in a very few +minutes Frank had uttered the irrevocable words, and the wedding was +over. Then Mr. and Mrs. George Keane received abundant +congratulations, and they adjourned to partake of breakfast. In the +hall stood a quantity of baggage labelled "Mrs. Keane," which seemed +very formidable, but was not much after all, considering the +travellers were going to Europe. Yes; the young pair were to have a +six months' tour before settling down at Pendlepoint, and some felt +as if Carrie were going away for ever. She looked very grave and sad; +and when she came down ready to go, broke down utterly bidding her +mother good-bye. + +<p>"Now then, this will never do," said Judge Keane, with that comical +smile of his. "George, get your wife into the carriage, or we shall +have her rueing she ever promised to follow you." + +<p>Carrie smiled through her tears, and shook her finger at the judge. +Then, as she turned to go, a light touch fell upon her arm, and a low +voice whispered tremulously,— + +<p>"May God bless you all your life, Mrs. Keane." + +<p>It was Lucy, her great eyes shining with unspeakable love and +tenderness. + +<p>"Never Mrs. Keane to you, Lucy, my pet," she whispered back. "Carrie +always, and always. Write to me." + +<p>Then she was hurried out to the carriage, forgetting in the +excitement of the moment that she possessed no address to give. The +door closed upon them, the coachman sprang to the box, and the next +moment they were gone. They had embarked together on the sea of life, +and the voyage bade fair to be a happy and prosperous one. + +<p>"I don't like weddings," said Judge Keane discontentedly. "They are +miserable, heart-breaking things at the best." + +<p>"Time was when you did not think so, judge," said the doctor, with a +twinkle in his eye.—"Eh, little one?" + +<p>It was Lucy whom the doctor addressed, and she answered timidly, "It +is very sad to give away those we love, as you have done to-day, +sir." + +<p>"Wait till somebody wants to take you away, my lady," laughed the +judge. "There'll be an earthquake at Thankful Rest." + +<p>"I never heard any one speak as you do, Judge Keane," said Lucy, with +a dignity which dumfoundered Tom; and she moved away and sat down by +Mrs. Goldthwaite, and began to talk to her about Carrie. + +<p>"What makes you look so sober, Tom Hurst?" queried Minnie Keane's +voice at his elbow a few minutes later. + +<p>"Shall I tell you, Minnie?" + +<p>"You must," was the calm reply. + +<p>"It seems to me, then," he said very slowly, "that Lucy is growing +up, and I don't like it. Do you?" + +<p>"I don't mind. Everybody grows up and marries, and goes to Europe, +and dies after a bit; that's about what life amounts to—not much, is +it?" + +<p>Tom laughed, he couldn't help it; but after a bit he answered +gravely, "I am afraid to grow up myself, Minnie." + +<p>"Why?" + +<p>"Because a man has so much responsibility, so much to do for God: I +don't think it will be very easy." + +<p>"Oh, I do!" answered Minnie. "Just do all you can, with all your +might; that's what mamma says, and it's the easiest way." + +<p>"So it is," said Tom. "I shan't forget that, Minnie." + +<p>And neither he did.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="16">XVI.</a><br> +<br> +FIVE YEARS AFTER.</center> +<br> +<p>Again it was sweet spring-time at Thankful Rest. The garden was gay +with tender leaves and blossoms, and the orchard white with bloom. +There the birds made sweet melody as of yore; and, as of yore, the +sunny river brawled and whispered and played as it hurried through +the meadow to the sea. + +<p>At five o'clock in the afternoon Aunt Hepsy was in the kitchen, busy +as usual; her hands knew no idleness. Two teacups and a plate of cake +stood on the table, the remnants of the early tea she and Lucy had +taken a little while before. Presently a light step sounded in the +lobby, and Lucy came in dressed for walking. Five years make a great +change; for she had grown from a slight, diminutive girl, to a tall, +lithe, graceful young lady, just on the verge of womanhood. + +<p>"Ye look like a picter, by all the world," said Aunt Hepsy, pausing +to admire her; and Lucy's answer was a silvery laugh, so full of +perfect happiness and content, that a silent bird on the window ledge +caught the infection and burst into song. + +<p>"I'm going to the post-office to see if there's a letter from Tom, +Aunt Hepsy," she said; "and then to Dovecot, to see Mrs. George +Keane. I'll be back sure before dark." + +<p>"Ye'd better," said Aunt Hepsy, with something of her ancient +grimness. "The house ain't worth livin' in when ye're out." + +<p>Lucy came close to Aunt Hepsy, and laying her gloved hands on her +shoulders, bent tender, beaming eyes on her face. "It makes me so +thankful, auntie, to think you miss me, and are glad when I come +back. I don't suppose there's a happier girl anywhere than I am." + +<p>"Nor a happier pair than ye make yer uncle an' me," said Aunt Hepsy +softly. "Off ye go, ye waste my time like anything; time was when I'd +make ye fly round considerable if ye'd ventured." + +<p>Lucy laughed, and went her way, turning aside as she went through the +paddock for a pleasant word with Uncle Josh ploughing in the low +meadow. He stopped his team to watch the pretty girlish figure out of +sight. Crossing the bridge she met Ebenezer going with a letter to +Thankful Rest. It was for her, and in Tom's handwriting. There was no +need for her to go down to the town, and she turned in the direction +of the Dovecot, which was the name of the pretty home occupied by +George Keane and his wife. It was midway between the Red House and +the parsonage, and fifteen minutes' leisurely walking brought her to +it. Miss Goldthwaite had been married four years past, and had one +little son, the joy and torment of her life. He was in bed, however, +when Lucy called, so there was a chance of a moment's quiet talk. + +<p>"I have had a letter from Tom to-night, Carrie," she said when the +first greetings were over. "His picture has sold for five hundred +dollars." + +<p>"O Lucy, I am so glad. Such a success for a young artist! How proud +Robert will be of his pupil." + +<p>Lucy's eyes beamed her pride, though she said very little. + +<p>"Frank is here," said Mrs. Keane after a moment. "He is out somewhere +with George; let us find them, and communicate the good news. What +will Aunt Hepsy say?" + +<p>They rose and went out into the sweet spring twilight and found Mr. +Goldthwaite and Mr. George Keane in the garden at the back. There +were warm congratulations from both, and an hour slipped away in +discussing the artist, his work and prospects, till Lucy remembered +her promise to Aunt Hepsy, and said that she must be going. Mr. +Goldthwaite would return too, he said, as it was growing late. His +sister fancied Lucy's company was an inducement to him to leave so +early, but she discreetly held her peace. + +<p>It was almost dark, though the lamp was not lit at Thankful Rest, +when Lucy reached home. + +<p>"You've kept your time," said Aunt Hepsy well pleased. "Did ye come +home alone?" + +<p>"No, Aunt Hepsy," answered Lucy very low, and the semi-darkness hid +her face. "Mr. Goldthwaite was at Dovecot, and walked home with me." + +<p>"Mrs. Keane's folks all well?" asked Aunt Hepsy, suspecting nothing. + +<p>"Yes; and O Aunt Hepsy, I have a letter from Tom: his picture in the +exhibition has sold for five hundred dollars." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy uplifted her hands in mute amazement. + +<p>"Marcy on us," she exclaimed at last. "What a power o' money for a +picter! Is't true, Lucy?" + +<p>"Yes, quite true; and he has got such praise for it," said Lucy +joyfully. "Aren't you proud of him, Aunt Hepsy?" + +<p>"I guess I am," said Aunt Hepsy. "Five hundred dollars! Dear, dear! +What will Josh say to this? Does he say anything about coming home +soon?" + +<p>"I'll read you the letter when the lamp's lighted, auntie," said +Lucy. + +<p>"Well, light it, there's a good child; it's 'most time anyway. I've +been idle a good half-hour." + +<p>But Lucy did not seem in any hurry. She hovered about in an odd, +restless kind of way, and finally came behind Aunt Hepsy's chair, and +folded her hands on her shoulder. + +<p>"What is it, child?" said Aunt Hepsy wonderingly. "Summat you have to +tell me, I reckon. Anything in Tom's letter ye haven't told me?" + +<p>"No, Aunt Hepsy," and Lucy's voice fell very low now. "I want to tell +you—I have promised to be Mr. Goldthwaite's wife." + +<p>"Bless me, Lucy, 'tain't true?" cried Aunt Hepsy, starting up; and +seeing in Lucy's downcast face confirmation of her words, she sank +back to her chair, and for the first and only time in her life Aunt +Hepsy went off into hysterics. + +<p>In the tender gloaming of an August evening Tom and Lucy Hurst stood +together within the porch at Thankful Rest. They had been at +Pendlepoint visiting old friends, and, after walking slowly home, +lingered here talking of old times, and loath to leave the soft +beauty of the summer night. A tall, broad-shouldered, handsome fellow +was Tom Hurst now, towering a head above his sister, who stood very +close to him, her head leaning against his shoulder. + +<p>"Do you remember what a pair of miserable little creatures stood just +here five years ago, Lucy?" he said half laughingly, half earnestly. + +<p>"Yes," said Lucy softly. "What a difference between then and now." + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Tom's eyes watched the stars peeping +out one by one in the opal sky, his heart full of the happiness of +the present and all the hope and promise of the future. + +<p>Presently Aunt Hepsy, ever watchful for Lucy now, called to them to +come in, for the dews were falling. + +<p>"Tom, has not God cast our lines in pleasant places, and given us a +goodly heritage?" said Lucy softly as they turned to obey the +summons. + +<p>"Ay," answered Tom, his voice softening also. "May He help us to be +truly grateful for His goodness all our lives, Lucy."</p> +<br><br> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12998 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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Swan</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Thankful Rest</p> +<p>Author: Annie S. Swan</p> +<p>Release Date: July 28, 2004 [eBook #12998]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THANKFUL REST***</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><h3>E-text prepared by Roy Brown</h3></center> +<br> +<br> +<HR noshade> +<BR><BR><BR> +<CENTER> +<H1>THANKFUL REST</H1><BR>by<BR><BR><BR> +<H2>ANNIE S. SWAN</H2> +<H4>Author of "Aldersyde," "Carlowrie" "Shadowed" &c. &c.</H4> +<HR class=narrow> +</center> +<br><br><br> +<blockquote><blockquote><blockquote> + There is no road, though rough and steep,<br> + Without an end at last,<br> + And every rock upon the way<br> + By patience can be passed. +<br><br> + There are few human hearts too hard<br> + For gentleness to win;<br> + Somewhere a hidden chink appears<br> + Where love may enter in.<br> +<br></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote> + +<center> +<BR><BR><BR> +<H3>CONTENTS</H3><BR> + +<TABLE border=0> + <TBODY> + <TR> + <TD align="right">I. </TD> + <TD><a href="#1">UNWELCOME NEWS</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">II. </TD> + <TD><a href="#2">THE PARSONAGE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">III. </TD> + <TD><a href="#3">THE ARRIVAL</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">IV. </TD> + <TD><a href="#4">THE NEW HOME</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">V. </TD> + <TD><a href="#5">SUNDAY</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">VI. </TD> + <TD><a href="#6">LOSING HOLD OF THE BRIDLE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">VII. </TD> + <TD><a href="#7">THE RED HOUSE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">VIII. </TD> + <TD><a href="#8">UP THE PEAK</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">IX. </TD> + <TD><a href="#9">A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">X. </TD> + <TD><a href="#10">ON THE LAKE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XI. </TD> + <TD><a href="#11">HOPES FULFILLED</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XII. </TD> + <TD><a href="#12">WEARY DAYS</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XIII. </TD> + <TD><a href="#13">LUCY FINDS THE KEY</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XIV. </TD> + <TD><a href="#14">A GREAT CHANGE</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XV. </TD> + <TD><a href="#15">THE WEDDING</a></TD></TR> + <TR> + <TD align="right">XVI. </TD> + <TD><a href="#16">FIVE YEARS AFTER</a></TD></TR> + </TBODY></TABLE></CENTER> +<BR><BR><BR><BR> +<center>THANKFUL REST.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="1">I.</a> +<br><br> +UNWELCOME NEWS.</center> +<br> +<p>It was the prettiest homestead in all the township, everybody said, +and it had the prettiest name. It stood a mile or so beyond +Pendlepoint on the farther side of the river, from which it was +separated by a broad meadow, where in the summer time the sleek kine +stood udder-deep in cowslips and clover. + +<p>It was a long, low, comfortable-looking house, hidden by lovely +creeping plants, and sheltered at the back by the old elm trees in +the paddock, and at the front by the apple trees in the orchard. +Perhaps it was because it had such a snug, cosy, restful look about +it that it had been queerly christened Thankful Rest. The land +adjoining the homestead was rich and fertile, and brought in every +year a crop worth a goodly competence to its possessors. The family +at Thankful Rest consisted of two people—Joshua Strong and his +sister Hepzibah. You are to make their acquaintance immediately, but +a remark made once by old Reuben Waters, their next neighbour, may +perhaps give you an idea of their characters better than any long +description of mine:— + +<p>"For crankiness and nearness, and unneighbourly sourness, give me +Josh Strong and his sister Hepsy. They can't be equalled, I bet, in +all Connecticut." + +<p>You will be able to judge by-and-by of the correctness of Reuben's +estimate. On a lovely August afternoon Miss Hepzibah Strong was +ironing in the kitchen at Thankful Rest. I wish you could have seen +that kitchen; your eyes would have ached with its painful +cleanliness. The stone flags were as cool and clean as water and +hands could make them; the stove shone like burnished silver; the +dresser and the table, at which Miss Hepzibah was at work, were white +as snow; and the array of tins on the wall was perfectly dazzling +with brightness. The wide diamond-paned casement stood open to admit +what little air happened to be abroad that sultry afternoon. How +pleasant it was, to be sure, to look out upon the flower-laden +garden; upon the sunny orchard, rich and golden with its precious +harvest; upon the silver thread of the river winding through the +green meadow beyond; and to see and feel all the loveliness with +which God had clothed the world. But Miss Hepzibah had no eyes for +any of the beauties I have mentioned; she was intent upon her work, +and hung on the clothes-horse piece after piece of stiff, spotless +linen, which, as she could boast, could not be equalled in the +township. Miss Hepzibah herself was not a pretty picture. She was a +woman of thirty-five or thereabouts; with a thin, brown, hard-looking +face; sharp, twinkling gray eyes; and a long, grim, resolute mouth. +She wore a short skirt of dark material, a lilac calico jacket, and a +huge white apron. On ordinary occasions her head was adorned by a cap +of fearful workmanship and dimensions, but in the heat of her work +she had thrown it off, and her scanty brown hair was fastened tightly +back in a cue behind. + +<p>Just as the old eight-day clock in the lobby solemnly struck four, +there was a loud knock at the back door, and the post-messenger from +Pendlepoint strode into the kitchen, holding in his hand a +black-edged letter. + +<p>"Bad news for ye, Miss Hepsy, I doubt," he said. "It'll be from your +sister in Newhaven, I reckon." + +<p>Miss Hepzibah took the black-edged letter coolly in her hand, eyed it +stolidly for a second, and then laid it on the table. "Sit down a +minute, Ebenezer, an' I'll bring ye a glass of cider," she said. + +<p>And Ebenezer saw her depart to the larder nothing loath. But if he +thought Miss Hepsy meant to open the letter and confide its contents +to him he was mistaken, for she pushed it aside and went on with her +ironing. So after being briefly rested and refreshed, he went his +way, bidding her a surly good-afternoon. Still the letter lay +untouched upon the table till the last collar was hung on the horse, +the irons set on the flags to cool, and the blanket folded in the +dresser. Then Miss Hepsy broke the seal, and read without change of +expression what ought to have been a sorrowful intimation to her, the +news of the death of her younger and only sister, who had married and +been left a widow in Newhaven. But before Miss Hepsy had read to the +end, her expression <i><b>did</b></i> change, and she exclaimed, "Wal, if this +ain't about the humbugginest fix. Hetty's boy and gal got to come +here—nowhere else to go. Wonder what Josh'll say?" + +<p>Miss Hepsy sat down, and, crossing her long hands on her lap, +remained deep in thought till the old clock struck again, five this +time. Then she sprang to her feet, whisked the letter into the table +drawer, and fetching out baking-board and flour-basin, proceeded to +make dough for a supper cake. It was barely ready when her brother +came in at six, and he looked slightly surprised to see no signs of +the supper on the table. + +<p>"I've had a letter from Newhaven, Josh," Miss Hepsy said abruptly. +"Hetty's dead; you won't be surprised to hear, I suppose. It's from +her minister; and he says you've got to come up right away and see +about things, an' fetch back the boy and gal with you. They've got +nowhere else to go, he says, an' we're their nearest kinsfolk. I got +thinkin' it over, and forgot my work, like a fool." + +<p>Joshua Strong's grim face grew grimmer, if possible, as he listened +to his sister's words. He reached out his hand for the letter she had +taken from the drawer, and slowly spelt it to the end. + +<p>"There ain't anything for it but grin and bear it, Hepsy," he said. +"Though I don't see what business folks has marryin' an' dyin' an' +leavin' their children to poor folks to keep. It'll be a mighty +difference to expense havin' other two mouths to feed an' backs to +clothe." + +<p>"An' what I'm to make of two fine gentry children, as Hetty's are +sure to be, round all the time, I don't know," said Miss Hepsy, +whisking off a griddle cake with unnecessary vigour. "I declare Hetty +might have had more sense than think we could do with 'em. I'm rare +upset about it, I can tell ye." + +<p>"It doesn't say what she died o'," said Joshua meditatively, twirling +the letter in his brown fingers. + +<p>"Died o'?" repeated Miss Hepsy tartly. "Why, of pinin' arter that +husband o' her'n. What's her fine scholar done for her now, I wonder? +Left her a lone widder to die off and leave penniless children to +other folks to keep. But I'll warrant they'll work for their meat at +Thankful Rest. I'll have no stuck-up idle notions here." + +<p>"How am I to get to Newhaven jes' now, I'd like to know," said +Joshua, "and all that corn waitin' to be stacked? It's clean beyond +me." + +<p>Miss Hepsy thought a moment. "I have it. Miss Goldthwaite was here +to-day, an' she said the parson was goin' to Newhaven to-morrow to +stay a day or two. We'll get him to see to things an' bring the +children down. I'll go to Pendlepoint whenever I've got my supper, +an' ask him. Here, ask the grace quick an' let's be hurryin'," she +said; and before the few mumbled words had fallen from Joshua's lips, +Miss Hepsy was well through with her first cup of tea! + +<p>At that moment, in a darkened chamber in a quiet city street, two +orphan children clung to each other weeping, wondering fearfully to +see so white, and cold, and still, the sweet face which had been wont +to smile upon them as only a mother can. + +<p>They wept, but the days were at hand when they would realize more +bitterly than now what they had lost, and how utterly they were left +alone.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="2">II.</a><br> +<br> +THE PARSONAGE.</center> +<br> +<p>In the pleasant front parlour of the parsonage at Pendlepoint, the +Rev. Frank Goldthwaite and his sister were lingering over their +tea-table. He was a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, with an +open kindly face, and grave thoughtful eyes, which yet at times could +sparkle with merriment as bright as that which so often shone in his +sister's blue orbs. A bright, winsome, lovable maiden was Carrie +Goldthwaite, the very joy of her brother's heart, and the apple of +every eye in the township. The brother and sister were deeply +attached to each other, the fact that they were separated from their +father's happy home in New York drawing them the more closely +together. They had been talking of Mr. Goldthwaite's projected visit +on the morrow, and he had at last succeeded in repeating faithfully +all the commissions his sister wished him to execute, when the +swinging of the garden gate, and a firm tread on the gravel, made +Miss Goldthwaite rise and peep behind the curtain. + +<p>"It's Miss Hepsy, Frank," she said with a very broad smile; +"something very important must it be which brings her here. I don't +think she has been to the parsonage since the day we came." + +<p>The next moment Miss Goldthwaite's "help" ushered in Miss Hepsy +Strong, attired in a shawl of brilliant hues and a marvellous bonnet. +She dropped a courtesy to the parson, and sat down on the extreme +edge of the chair Miss Goldthwaite offered her, declining, at the +same time, her offer of a cup of tea. Evidently, Miss Hepsy was not +used to company manners. + +<p>"I've made bold to come down to-night, sir," she said, fixing her +keen eyes on Mr. Goldthwaite's pleasant face, "knowin' you was goin' +to Newhaven to-morrow, to ask if you would do Josh and me a +kindness." + +<p>"If I can, Miss Strong," returned the minister courteously, "be sure +I shall be very glad to do so." + +<p>"You've heard tell, I reckon," said Miss Hepsy, "of our sister Hetty +as married the schoolmaster in Newhaven?" + +<p>Mr. Goldthwaite nodded. + +<p>"Well, she's dead," continued Miss Hepsy with a business-like +stolidity inexplicable to Carrie Goldthwaite's warm heart, "an' she's +left two children, which Josh an' me'll hev to take, I reckon, seein' +their parents is both dead now. We'd a letter to-day from the +minister there—Mr. Penn he calls hisself, I think." + +<p>"Yes, I know him," put in Mr. Goldthwaite. + +<p>"He wants Josh to come up right away, which he can't possibly do an' +the corn not in the barn yet. A day's worth so many dollars jes' now, +an' can't be throwed away. Now, sir, will ye be so kind as to see to +things at Hetty's, an' fetch the children with you when ye come back? +It'll be a great favour to Josh and me." + +<p>The minister concealed what he thought, and answered courteously that +he should do his best. Then Miss Hepsy rose and shook out her green +skirts. + +<p>"The address is Fifteenth Street, sir, an' Hetty's name was Hurst. I +reckon ye'll find it easy enough. That's all; I'll be goin' now.—No, +thanks, Miss Goldthwaite, I can't sit down; it's 'most milking time, +and if Keziah's left to do it herself, there's no saying what might +happen.—So, good evenin', and thank ye, sir;" and before the brother +and sister recovered from their amazement, Miss Hepsy had whisked out +of the room, and the next minute her firm, man-like tread broke upon +their ears again. Mr. Goldthwaite looked at his sister with a comical +smile, which was answered by a peal of laughter from her sweet lips. + +<p>"I can't help it indeed, Frank," she said. "I am so sorry for the +poor children, bereft of both parents. Their mother was a refined, +gentle creature, too, I have been told; of a different mould from +Miss Hepsy. The calmness, though, to ask you to do all this simply +because Joshua is too hard to spare a day's labour! Are you doing +altogether right, Frank, I wonder, in taking it off his hands?" + +<p>"I could not refuse it, Carrie," returned the minister. "Like you, I +am sorry for the poor little orphans. Their life will not be all +sunshine, I fear, at Thankful Rest." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite sighed, and from the open window watched in silence +Miss Hepsy's brilliant figure crossing the river by the bridge a +hundred yards beyond the parsonage gate. + +<p>"I think, Frank, that among all your parishioners there is not a more +unhappy pair than Joshua Strong and his sister. I wish they could be +made to see how differently God meant them to spend their lives. It +saddens me to see their hardness and sourness." + +<p>"Perhaps these little children may do them good, dear," returned the +minister gravely. "It would not be the first time God has used the +influence of little children to do what no other power on earth +could. We will pray it may be so." + +<p>"Yes," returned Carrie Goldthwaite; and the shade deepened on her +sweet face as she added again, "Poor little things! it will be a sore +change from the tender care of a mother. We must do what we can, +Frank, to make their home at Thankful Rest as happy as possible. We +had such a happy one ourselves, I feel an intense pity for those who +have not. There is Judge Keane on horseback at the gate. He wants +either you or me to go out and speak with him." + +<p>The minister rose, and both stepped out to the veranda, and down the +steps to the garden. The judge had alighted, and fastening his bridle +to the gate-post, came up the path to meet them. He was an old man, +with white hair and beard; but his fine figure was as erect and +stately as it had been a quarter of a century before. He shook hands +cordially with the minister, touched Carrie Goldthwaite's brow with +his lips, and then said, in a brisk, cheerful voice,— + +<p>"My wife heard you were going to Newhaven for a couple of days, and +sent me down to say she would expect you, miss," (he nodded to +Carrie,) "at the Red House to-morrow, to stay till he comes back. I +may say yes, I suppose?" + +<p>"Yes, and thank you, Judge Keane," said Miss Goldthwaite with a +little grateful smile. "Even with Abbie's company, it is very dull +when Frank is away. Won't you come in?" + +<p>The judge shook his head, and turned to the gate again. "Not +to-night, my dear. Good-night, and good-bye, Frank." + +<p>"Have you no commissions, judge?" asked the minister. "I shall have +plenty of time at my disposal; my own business is very little." + +<p>"No, I think not," returned the judge. "But, let me see." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite moved to the gate, and laid her hand caressingly on +Beauty's glossy neck. + +<p>"I only envy you one thing, Judge Keane," she said; "and this is it. +What a beauty she is!" + +<p>The judge laughed, and his eyes lingered on the slim, girlish figure +in its dainty muslin garb; and on the sweet, unclouded face, which +was a true index to the happy heart within. + +<p>"Beauty shall be yours by-and-by," he laughed; and a swift wave of +colour swept across her face, and she hid it in the animal's glossy +mane.—"Safe journey, Frank. Come to the Red House for your sister +when you want her.—Steady, Beauty." He sprang to the saddle, and +held out his hand to Carrie. + +<p>"I'm glad you've said yes, my dear," he whispered, with a mischievous +twinkle in his gray eyes, "or a certain young man would have thought +nothing of coming to take you by main force. Shall I tell him of that +sweet blush? Or—" + +<p>But Miss Goldthwaite had fled, and Beauty flew off like an arrow.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="3">III.</a><br> +<br> +THE ARRRIVAL.</center> +<br> +<p>On Friday morning, Miss Hepsy received a brief note from Mr. +Goldthwaite, stating that he had attended the funeral of Mrs. Hurst, +paid the little she had owed in Newhaven, and would be at Pendlepoint +by the noon cars that day, when he requested Miss Hepsy to be in +waiting at the depot to meet her nephew and niece. + +<p>Now, Friday was Miss Hepsy's cleaning day. Although ordinary eyes +would have been puzzled to point out what spot in that shining domain +required more than the touch of a duster, the house was upturned from +ceiling to basement, and received such sweeping and dusting and +polishing, such scouring and scrubbing, that it was a marvel Miss +Hepsy was not exhausted at the end of it. She had just turned out the +parlour chairs into the lobby, and was busy with broom and dust-pan, +sweeping up invisible dust, when Ebenezer brought her Mr. +Goldthwaite's letter. So much did it upset her, that he had to depart +without his glass of cider, for she took no more notice of him than +if he had been one of the pillars at the door. It was eleven o'clock +almost; it would take her every moment to dress and be at the depot +in time; so she had to set the chairs back into the half-swept room, +replace her working garb by the green dress and the plaid shawl, take +her blue umbrella and trudge off, leaving the management of the +dinner to Keziah. Her frame of mind as she did so augured ill for the +welcome of her sister's children. + +<p>The cars were half an hour late, and Miss Hepsy strode up and down +the platform in a ferment of wrath and impatience, thinking of the +dinner under awkward Keziah's supervision; of the sweeping and +dusting and baking all to be done in the afternoon; of the bother two +strange children were sure to be; of a hundred and one things, which +brought her temper up to fever heat by the time the train puffed into +the depot. From the window of a first-class compartment two faces +looked out eagerly, but failed to recognize in Miss Hepsy the sister +of the dear dead mother they had so lately lost. Miss Hepsy saw Mr, +Goldthwaite step out first, followed by a tall, handsome-looking boy, +well dressed and refined-looking, who in his turn assisted with care +and tenderness a slight, delicate-looking girl, who bore such a +strong resemblance to her dead mother that her aunt had no difficulty +in recognizing her. She stamped forward, nodded to Mr. Goldthwaite, +and held out a hand in turn to each of the children. + +<p>"I'm tired to death waitin' on these pesky cars," she said, +addressing herself to Mr. Goldthwaite. "I hope they've behaved +themselves, sir, an' not bothered ye.—Bless me, children, don't +stare at me so; I'm your Aunt Hepzibah. You look as if you had never +seen a woman afore." + +<p>"There is a trunk, Miss Hepsy," said Mr. Goldthwaite, unable to help +an amused smile playing about his mouth. "You will need to send a +cart for it.—They have been very good children indeed, and instead +of bothering, have greatly helped to make my journey enjoyable." + +<p>"I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure," said Miss Hepsy, looking very much +as if she was not glad at all. "Well, I guess we'd better be +movin'.—What's your name, boy?" she said, turning to the lad with an +abruptness which made him start. + +<p>"My name is Tom, aunt," he answered promptly; "this is Lucy." +"Miss Hetty might have called one of ye after her own kin.—Well, +good-day, Mr. Goldthwaite; I guess Josh'll walk down to the parsonage +at night an' pay up.—Come along." + +<p>"Good-bye, Tom, good-bye, Lucy, in the meantime," said the minister +kindly. "We shall see each other often, I fancy." + +<p>"Oh, sir, I hope so," said Lucy, speaking for the first time. "You +have been so kind to us when we had nobody else." Her dark eyes +suddenly overflowed, and she turned away to follow her aunt, while +Tom, whistling to vent some strong feeling, went on in front. + +<p>Miss Hepsy walked as if for a wager, and never opened her mouth once, +until they stood upon the threshold of Thankful Rest. + +<p>"Now, look here; this is yer home," she said; then, fixing grim eyes +alternately on their faces, "an' I hope ye'll behave, an' show yer +gratitude for it. That's all.—I bet Keziah's burned the soup;" with +which words Miss Hepsy burst into the kitchen, ready to extinguish +the unfortunate "help" if everything was not up to the mark. The +brother and sister lingered a moment on the threshold, feeling new +and strange and sad, their welcome had been so disappointing. + +<p>"Lucy," said Tom Hurst suddenly, "do you believe that woman's mamma's +sister? I don't." + +<p>"Of course she is," returned Lucy. "And you must not call her 'that +woman,' Tom; she is our aunt, mamma's sister, you know, and we must +behave, she says." + +<p>Tom made a wry face. "I don't feel like behaving any," he said. "But +I say, Lucy, isn't this a prime place?" + +<p>Lucy's eyes beamed as they looked round the pretty, peaceful +homestead, with its laden orchard, wealth of flowers and glorious +summer beauty. But she did not answer. + +<p>"We'd better go in, I suppose, though we weren't asked," said Tom. "I +wonder if it's near dinner-time; I'm famished." + +<p>He pushed open the door, and, followed by Lucy, entered the +wide-bricked kitchen. A sudden change had taken place in Aunt Hepsy's +appearance. In the twinkling of an eye she had donned her working +garb again, and was paring potatoes at the table. Fortunately, the +dinner had progressed satisfactorily during her absence. + +<p>"Come in and sit down," she said, pointing to the settle at the fire. +"Ye'll be hungry, I reckon; but it'll soon be dinner-time. I don't +approve of eating 'tween meals.—I guess you never did any of this +kind o' work, Lucy?" + +<p>"No, Aunt Hepsy," returned Lucy timidly. "I've seen Hannah do it; +that was our girl." + +<p>"Humph; ye won't be long here before ye can pare potatoes as well as +Hannah. You'll be willin' to learn, I hope?" + +<p>"I shall do my best, Aunt Hepsy," returned the girl meekly. + +<p>"Mamma never pared potatoes, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom boldly. + +<p>"No; I know she didn't, boy," said Miss Hepsy severely. "Your mother +was as useless as a bit o' Sunday china.—I hope you won't be like +her, Lucy." + +<p>"I hope she will, Aunt Hepsy," spoke up Tom again. "Mamma was +perfectly splendid, everybody said." + +<p>"You'd better go outside, boy," said Miss Hepsy wrathfully, "till you +learn to speak respectfully to your aunt. I know what your mother +was. She was my own sister, I hope." + +<p>Tom caught up his cap and fled, nothing loath; his aunt irritated +him, and made him forget himself. + +<p>"How old are you, child?" said Miss Hepsy, turning to Lucy, after a +moment's silence. + +<p>"I am fourteen past, Aunt Hepsy; Tom is twelve." + +<p>Miss Hepsy dropped her paring-knife and stared. + +<p>"Bless me, child, you don't look more'n nine, and that great boy +looks years older'n you. What have ye fed on?" + +<p>Lucy smiled faintly. "I have not been very strong this summer, Aunt +Hepsy; and I was so anxious about mamma being so poorly. I couldn't +sleep at nights, nor eat anything hardly. I suppose that's what made +me thin." Miss Hepsy sniffed. + +<p>"Have any of ye been to school?" was her next question. + +<p>"No, Aunt Hepsy. Papa taught us till he died, and then mamma kept up +our lessons as well as she could. Tom is a good scholar; and, oh, +such a beautiful painter!" + +<p>"Painter!" echoed Miss Hepsy. "What, fence rails and gates?" + +<p>Lucy looked very much shocked. "Oh no; he draws landscapes and +things, and went to the Art School as long as mamma could afford it. +Then he practised at home. He means to be a great painter some day, +like the ones he read about." + +<p>"Humph!" said Miss Hepsy contemptuously. "I guess his uncle'll find +him work in painting the farm an' the gates afresh this fall. It'll +save a man. Now then, there's them taters on. Come upstairs an' I'll +show you your room." + +<p>Lucy rose at once, and obediently followed her aunt along the wide +flagged passage and up the polished oak steps to a tiny little +chamber in the attic fiat. It was poorly furnished, but it was +scrupulously clean; and from the window Lucy's delighted eyes caught +a glimpse of the broad green meadow, the shining water of the river, +and beyond, the houses of the town nestling in the shadow of the +giant slopes of Pendle Peak. + +<p>"Your brother's room is on t'other side o' the landing," explained +Miss Hepsy; "an' I'll 'spect you to keep 'em both as clean's a new +pin. I'm mighty partickler, mind, an' can't abide untidiness. An' if +yer mother's brought ye up to think yersel' a lady, the sooner ye get +rid of that notion the better, 'cos yell have to work here; we don't +keep no idle hands. Get off your hat an' cape now, an' come down as +fast's ye like, an' help set the table for dinner." + +<p>Miss Hepsy then whisked out of the room, and clattered down the +stairs in haste. + +<p>Lucy moved to the window recess, and stood looking upon the peace and +beauty without, until her eyes were brimming with tears. Then she +knelt down by the side of the bed, sobbing pitifully, "Mamma, mamma! +come back, O dear mamma! we have nobody on earth but you!"</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="4">IV.</a><br> +<br> +THE NEW HOME.</center> +<br> +<p>Meanwhile Tom had gone on an exploring expedition. He investigated +every outhouse and shed, frightened the geese and turkeys into fits +by rushing through their paddock shouting at the pitch of his voice, +caught the superannuated mule by the tail, and made her fly off like +a four-year old, made friends with the savage watch-dog on the chain, +coaxed the pigeons to fly to him, and finally went off to the fields +in search of his uncle. On the road outside the farmyard gate he met +a team, driven by a big uncouth-looking man, dressed in coarse +trowsers, a red shirt, and a battered straw hat. + +<p>"You'll be one of the men, I guess," said Tom, stopping in front of +him. "Can you tell me where my Uncle Joshua is?" + +<p>The man grinned. "Air you Hetty's boy, youngster?" + +<p>"I'm Mrs. Hurst's son," corrected Tom proudly. "Who are you?" + +<p>"If I'm not yer Uncle Josh, I reckon he ain't be home terday," +returned the man.—"Hi! up, Sally; you and me's not fit company, I +guess, for a city gent." + +<p>"If you <i><b>are</b></i> Uncle Joshua, I beg your pardon I'm sure," said Tom +with his usual frankness. "Won't you shake hands, Uncle Joshua?" + +<p>Uncle Joshua took the thin, delicate hand in his own brown palm, and +looked at it curiously. + +<p>"Jes' as Hepsy said—Hetty's boy's more for ornament than use. Well, +youngster, now you're here ye'll work for yer bread, I hope. We're +poor folks here, an' can't keep idle hands. Ye'll hev to learn to +mind a team like this." + +<p>"I wouldn't mind if I'd a better horse, Uncle Josh," said Tom, +walking alongside of his uncle, and eying the hungry-looking steed +critically. "See his ribs. Don't you feed him ever, Uncle Josh?" + +<p>The man's face flushed angrily. "Shut up, younker!" he said savagely. +"Don't speak about things ye know nothing about." + +<p>Tom walked on a minute or two in silence, but in no way disconcerted. + +<p>"This is a very nice place, Uncle Josh," he said. "Mamma often told +us about it, but it's prettier than I thought it would be." + +<p>"The place'll do, I reckon," admitted Uncle Josh. "But farmin' ain't +what it was. It's a hard job gettin' meat an' drink out o'd +now-a-days." + +<p>"Mamma told us you were rich," said Tom in surprise. "But you can't +be, because—because—" + +<p>"Wal?" said Uncle Josh, with a slow, stupid smile. + +<p>"Because your horses are all thin, and <i><b>you</b></i> wear these clothes; and +Aunt Hepsy doesn't dress like a lady. Rich people don't live so." + +<p>"You're a fool, youngster. Just your mother over again. You don't +know, I suppose, that to save money folks must live cheap, an' not be +all outside show. Ye'll learn better, maybe, afore ye've been long at +Thankful Rest,—Hi, Sally! Whoa, lass." + +<p>The thin, wretched-looking horse stood still, thankful to be released +from the heavy waggon; and Tom watched all his uncle's movements with +much interest. He followed him from the yard to the stable, saw him +give the five horses a scanty feed of corn and a pail of water. + +<p>"We'll go and hev a bite o' dinner now," he said; then, "Your +sister'll be indoors, I guess?" + +<p>Tom nodded, and the two proceeded to the house. Lucy was downstairs +by this time, awkwardly placing knives, forks, and plates on the +table, under Miss Hepsy's directions. A glad smile crept to her eyes +at sight of Tom; it seemed ages since he had gone out. She looked +timidly at her uncle as he shook hands with her, remarking she was a +pale-faced thing, and needed work and exercise to make her spry. Then +the company sat down, and Tom, if Lucy did not, did ample justice to +Miss Hepsy's cookery. It was an unsociable, uncomfortable meal. Aunt +and uncle ate, as they did everything else, as if for a wager, and +were finished before Lucy had touched her meat and potatoes. + +<p>"Look spry, child," said her aunt, beginning to clear away almost +immediately. "You'll ha' to learn to eat to some purpose. Time don't +last for ever." + +<p>Lucy pushed back her unfinished plateful and rose. + +<p>"Not dainty enough for ye, is it not?" was the next remark. "Ye'll +eat it by-and-by maybe." + +<p>"I'm not hungry, Aunt Hepsy," she said with quivering lips; and Tom +bit his to keep back angry words surging to them. + +<p>"May I go out for a little, Aunt Hepsy?" Lucy asked. + +<p>"When you've wiped them dishes you may," replied Aunt Hepsy. "I lost +two good hours goin' to that plaguy depot for you, so the least ye +can do is to help me through.—Josh, find summat for the boy to do; +'tain't no use hevin' him 'round idle lookin' for mischief." + +<p>"Come along to the barn then, What's-yer-name," said Uncle Josh, +picking up his hat and sauntering to the door.—"Don't be too hard on +that little 'un, Hepsy; she don't look over strong." + +<p>"Mind yer own business, will ye, Josh Strong," was Miss Hepsy's smart +rejoinder. "I guess I'm able to mind mine." + +<p>Under Miss Hepsy's directions, Lucy succeeded in washing up the +dishes without disaster, and was then requested to come to the far +parlour and receive a lesson in sweeping and dusting. Then baking +came on, and with one thing and another Miss Hepsy managed to keep +the child within doors and on her feet till past four o'clock. She +was fainting with fatigue, but would not complain, and Miss Hepsy was +too busy to observe the pallor on her face. + +<p>"May I sit down for a minute, please?" she said at last, after +bringing a huge can of flour from the larder. "I am afraid I am going +to faint, Aunt Hepsy;" and she looked like enough it, as she sank +wearily on the settle, and let her white lids droop over her tired +eyes. + +<p>Miss Hepsy was more than annoyed. "A delicate child above all +humbugs," she muttered, as she sprinkled a few drops of spring water +on the girl's face, and held her smelling-salts to her nostrils. + +<p>"Ye'd better go out an' get a mouthful of fresh air, I suppose," she +said ungraciously when Lucy rose at last, with a faint touch of +returning colour in her cheeks. + +<p>And Lucy gladly went upstairs for her hat, and crept out into the +beautiful sunshine. The garden gate was locked, but she managed to +turn the key, and went slowly, in a maze of delight, along the trim +paths, past beds of roses, hollyhocks, pansies, and sweet-scented +gilly-flowers. The orchard beyond looked tempting indeed, where the +sunbeams glistened through the bending boughs of apple, plum, and +cherry trees, on the soft carpet of grass beneath. She managed to +unfasten the gate there too, and choosing a wide-spreading +apple-tree, from which she could see the meadow and the river, flung +herself on the grass beneath it. There she fell asleep, and Tom found +her an hour after. His fine face looked worried and discontented, and +he flung himself beside her, saying gloomily,— + +<p>"How on earth I am to live here, Lucy Hurst, I don't know." + +<p>"What is it, Tom?" inquired she, forgetting her own troubles in +sympathy for him. + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Josh, that's all. He hasn't any patience with me, and +makes me speak up impertinently to him. And the things they say about +mamma are perfectly shameful. I won't bear it now, I won't." + +<p>His sister's gentle hand touched his lips to stem the passionate +words. + +<p>"You remember, Tom," she said softly, "what mamma said to us. We were +to endure all such little trials, remembering that it is God who +sends them. Think how grieved she would be if she could hear us +grumbling so soon." + +<p>"I don't care; I can't help it," said the boy recklessly. "It isn't +anything for you to be good, Lucy; you are just like mamma—a kind of +saint, I think. For me it is just a long battle all day. If a fellow +conquered in the end, it would not matter; but as it is—O Lucy, +Lucy! why did mamma die? It was so easy to be happy and good when we +had her to love and help us. I wish I were dead too." + +<p>Poor, proud, passionate Tom! His sister could only put her gentle arm +about his neck and cry too, her heart so sorely re-echoed the painful +longing in his voice. + +<p>So the first day at Thankful Rest did not promise very brightly for +Tom and Lucy Hurst.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="5">V.</a><br> +<br> +SUNDAY</center> +<br> +<p>Saturday was the busiest day in the week at Thankful Rest. There was +churning to be done, extra cooking for Sunday, mending and darning, +and the weekly polishing of every bit of brass, and copper, and tin +in the establishment. Lucy rubbed at them till her arms ached, +without bringing them to the required height of brightness, and was +at last sent off to pick the few remaining gooseberries for a tart. +That was a piece of work much more to her liking, and she lingered so +long out in the sunshine that Aunt Hepsy came at last, and scolded +her long and shrilly; which took all the enjoyment away. Tom received +his lessons from Uncle Josh outside; and, judging from his face when +he came in at dinner-time, he had not found them particularly +agreeable. Tom Hurst was a dainty youth, in fact, and shrank from +soiling his fingers with the tasks allotted to him: and seeing that +grim Uncle Josh had not spared him, the forenoon had been one long +battle; for, try as he might, Tom could not keep a bridle on his +tongue. + +<p>"I guess I'll hev a pesky deal o' trouble with that young 'un, +Hepsy," his uncle said that night when the children had gone to bed. +"He doesn't take to farm work; an' he's that peart I durstn't speak +to him. Queer thing if we've got to keep the young upstart in +idleness." + +<p>"Idleness!" quoth Miss Hepsy wrathfully. "I'd take a rope's end to +him if he didn't keep a civil tongue in his head. The gal's bad +enough; though she never speaks back she looks at me that proud-like +wi' them great eyes o' her'n, I feel as if I'd like to shake her. +There'll never be a day's peace now they've come." + +<p>"Tell ye what, though, Hepsy," said Josh. "I'm gwine to pay off +Brahm, an' make Tom do his work. He ain't that much younger, an' he +looks strong enough! Couldn't you do without Keziah, and that would +square expenses?" + +<p>"I'll see how the child turns out in a week or so. She's a pinin' +thing—doesn't eat enough to keep a mouse alive." + +<p>"It's a thankless thing, any way ye like to take it, Hepsy, hevin' +other folks' youngsters round. I don't see why we should be bothered +with 'em;" with which remark Josh went to bed. + +<p>Lucy awoke next morning, remembering it was Sunday, with a feeling of +gladness that they might perhaps chance to see their friend Mr. +Goldthwaite at church. The Strongs were regular as clock-work in +their half-day attendance at the meeting-house. The morn'ng was +devoted to feeding cattle, pigs, and poultry, and tidying up the +house; and after dinner the premises were left in charge of Brahm and +Keziah, and the master and mistress turned their footsteps towards +Pendlepoint. The meeting-house was almost close to the parsonage, and +was a pretty, primitive structure, with no attempt at display or +decoration, and yet so pleasant and homelike inside that Lucy felt a +sense of rest as her eyes wandered round it. Tom nudged her and +whispered, "Nice little chapel, Lucy;" at which Miss Hepsy held up a +warning finger and shook her head. Tom blushed and laughed, Aunt +Hepsy looked so intensely comical. Then she became very red in the +face, and opening her hymn-book, kept her eyes on its pages till Mr. +Goldthwaite came in. His eyes travelled straight to the Strongs' pew, +and Lucy thought she saw a kindly gleam of recognition in his eyes. +Carrie was at the harmonium. She, too, looked once or twice in their +direction; and both children found her face so sweet and pleasant +that they could not lift their eyes off it. The chapel was full, and +the singing of the hymn was so hearty and so sweet, that Lucy felt +her eyes dim, she could not tell why. But it seemed to remind her of +her mother. + +<p>Mr. Goldthwaite preached only half an hour; but his sermon was so +beautiful and comforting, and so easily understood, that Lucy thought +Sunday would recompense her for all the troubles of the week. Tom's +eyes never left Mr. Goldthwaite's earnest face, and I believe that +the memory of his words remained with the boy for weeks after. He had +never heard a sermon in his life he had understood and <i><b>felt</b></i> like +this one. Uncle Josh snored rather noisily in the corner, and Aunt +Hepsy nodded occasionally over her Bible—the minister's message did +not even reach their ears. + +<p>When the service was over and they reached the church porch, they +found Miss Goldthwaite standing there. She had a nod and a smile for +every one, but her particular mission was with Tom and Lucy. She +shook hands with the uncle and aunt, and then bent her sweet eyes on +the children's faces. + +<p>"These be Hetty's children, Miss Goldthwaite," said Miss Hepsy. "Lucy +and Tom." + +<p>"Yes, I know," nodded Miss Goldthwaite. "I came round to see them. I +want them to take tea with me to-day, at my brother's special +request." + +<p>Miss Hepsy did not look at all delighted. "They'll jes' bother ye, +Miss Goldthwaite," said she; "an' besides, 'taint no use visitin' on +Sundays—I don't like it." + +<p>"It's hardly visiting, Miss Hepsy," said the young lady in the same +pleasant voice. "And when they are at Pendlepoint you may as well let +them. We will bring them safely home. Come now, Miss Hepsy, you know +nobody ever refuses me anything." + +<p>"Let them bide, Hepsy," said Uncle Josh, remembering what trouble and +expense the minister had spared him, and not wishing to appear so +unmindful of it. "I guess they won't come to no harm at the +parson's." + +<p>So Miss Hepsy was forced to grant a reluctant consent, and Miss +Carrie bore off the happy children in triumph. At the parsonage gate +Mr. Goldthwaite joined them, and gave them both a hearty welcome. +Even shy Lucy was at her ease immediately with Miss Carrie; for who +could resist that bright, caressing manner, and those beaming, loving +eyes? She carried Lucy off to her own pretty room to take off her +hat, and kept her there talking and showing her the beautiful view +from the window till Mr. Goldthwaite had to call to them to come to +tea. What a pleasant meal it was, and how the little company enjoyed +themselves. Then, when it was over, Mr. Goldthwaite took Tom to the +garden, and drew him on to talk of himself, of his hopes and +ambitions, and sympathized so heartily and cheerfully with him that +Tom began to think it was worth while coming to Thankful Rest, if for +nothing else than this pleasant hour at the parsonage. Meanwhile +Carrie had opened the piano, and sang low and softly one or two +hymns; and when she looked round, wondering why Lucy had moved from +her side, she saw her on the sofa with her face hidden. She rose, and +sitting down beside her, put her arm about her, and whispered +gently,— + +<p>"My poor child, what is it?" + +<p>"Mamma, Miss Goldthwaite," sobbed Lucy. "She used always to sing to +us on Sunday evenings just so, and it makes me feel dreadful to think +she never will any more." + +<p>"Yes, Lucy, I understand," said Carrie; and the very sound of her +voice soothed the child's troubled heart. "But you know who has +promised to comfort the mourning heart if we will but ask Him? Our +God is 'the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort.'" + +<p>A quick smile broke through Lucy's tears. "If it were not for that, +Miss Goldthwaite," she said simply, "I should have died when mamma +did." + +<p>"And just think, dear," went on the sweet voice, "of the glad time +coming when we shall all meet, please God, in a happier world than +this. We shall not remember these sad hours then, shall we, Lucy? I +know, my dear, how lonely and sad and strange you feel here now; but +God can make us happy anywhere." + +<p>"Yes, Miss Carrie, I know it," returned the child simply and +earnestly; "only I am so troubled sometimes about Tom. Mamma was +often troubled about him too. He is so passionate and quick and +proud. Oh, I don't know how he is to get on with Uncle Joshua and +Aunt Hepsy!" + +<p>"We will hope for the best," said Miss Carrie cheerfully; "and +by-and-by, perhaps, a way may be opened up for him to get his heart's +desire.—Would you like to see my pets, Lucy? I have chickens, and +pigeons, and dogs, and kittens, and all sorts of things. Frank says +the yard is a menagerie." + +<p>"Yes, I would like it very much. There are some pretty chickens and +kittens at Aunt Hepsy's, but she won't let me pet them." + +<p>In the delight of examining Miss Goldthwaite's menagerie sadder +thoughts flew, and the evening sped on golden wings. The time came at +last for the two to bid a regretful good-bye to the parsonage and +turn their faces homewards. The minister and his sister accompanied +them half across the meadow, and bade them good-night, with many +promises of future meetings. + +<p>Tom and Lucy walked on in silence till they reached the paddock, and +then the lad said abruptly, "It will not be so hard to live here, +Lucy, if we can see them sometimes. I don't believe there's another +minister like Mr. Goldthwaite in the State; nor another minister's +sister either." + +<p>Lucy smiled, her heart re-echoing her brother's words. + +<p>"I have not felt so happy since mamma died," she said softly. "O Tom, +is it not true what she used to say—'That God gives us something to +be grateful for everywhere'?" + +<p>"Yes," said Tom soberly; and the next moment Aunt Hepsy's tall figure +appeared at the kitchen door, and her shrill voice broke the pleasant +Sabbath calm. + +<p>"Here, come in, you two. Air you going to stand there all night? It's +'most nine o'clock—time you were in bed. I guess you won't go +visitin' on Sunday any more."</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="6">VI.</a><br> +<br> +LOSING HOLD OF THE BRIDLE.</center> +<br> +<p>It had rained all day, and not all that day only, but the best part +of the one before. Not a soft, gentle summer rain, but a fierce, wild +storm, which beat the poor flowers to the earth, spoiled the fruit, +and overflowed the river till half the meadow lay under water. There +was plenty of work in the barn for Uncle Josh and the men, and plenty +in the house for Aunt Hepsy and the girls. The scullery was full of +wet clothes waiting on a dry day. That of itself, not to speak of the +damage to the orchard, was sufficient to make Aunt Hepsy a very +disagreeable person to live with while the storm lasted. Her tongue +went from early morning till afternoon, scolding alternately at Lucy +and Keziah. The latter was a stolid being, on whom her mistress's +talking made no impression; but it made Lucy nervous and awkward, and +her work was very badly done indeed. At three o'clock Aunt Hepsy sent +her to wash her face, and gave her a long side of a sheet to hem. So +Lucy was sitting on the settle, with a very grave and +sorrowful-looking face, when Tom came in at four. His uncle had no +need of him just then, and had sent him to the house to be out of the +way. Keziah was feeding the calves, and Aunt Hepsy upstairs dressing, +if that word can be appropriately applied to the slight change her +toilet underwent in the afternoon. Tom sat down at the table in the +window, and leaning his arms upon it, looked out gloomily on the +desolate garden, over which the chill, wet mist hung like a pall. +Neither spoke for several minutes. + +<p>"How do you get on now, Lucy?" asked Tom at length. "How sober you +look. Has she been worrying you?" + +<p>"I daresay I am very stupid," said Lucy low and quietly; "but when +Aunt Hepsy talks so loud I don't know what I am doing." + +Miss Hepsy entered at that moment, fortunately without having heard +Lucy's patient speech. "Don't lean your wet, dirty arms on the table, +boy," said she with a sharp glance at Tom. "If you must be in, sit on +your chair like a Christian." + +<p>Tom immediately sat up like a poker. + +<p>"What's yer uncle doin'?" was her next question. + +<p>"He's oiling waggon wheels," answered Tom, "and sent me in." + +<p>Miss Hepsy took out a very ugly piece of knitting from the +dresser-drawer, and sat down opposite Lucy. "It's a pity boys ain't +learned to sew and knit," she said grimly. "It would save a deal of +women's time doin' it for 'em. I think I'll teach you, Tom." + +<p>"No, thank you, Aunt Hepsy." + +<p>"You're much too smart with your tongue, young 'un," said Miss Hepsy +severely, and then relapsed into stolid silence. The click of her +knitting needles, the ticking of the clock, and the rain beating on +the panes, were the only sounds to be heard in the house. Tom drew a +half-sheet of paper and a pencil from his pocket, laid it on the +table, and kept his attention there for a few minutes. Lucy ventured +to cast her eyes in his direction, and he held up the paper to her. A +smile ran all over her face and finally ended in a laugh. Aunt Hepsy +looked round suspiciously to see Tom stuffing something into his +pocket. + +<p>"What were you laughing at, Lucy?" Lucy looked distressed and +answered nothing. + +<p>"What's that you're stuffing into your pocket, Tom?" she said, +turning her eagle eyes again on Tom. + +<p>"A bit paper, aunt, that's all." + +<p>"People don't laugh at common bits o' paper, nor go stuffin' em into +pockets like that. Hand it over." + +<p>"I'd rather not, Aunt Hepsy," said the boy. + +<p>"I rather you would," was her dry retort. "Out with it." + +<p>"It's mine, Aunt Hepsy, and you wouldn't care to see it." + +<p>"How many more times am I to say out with it?" she said angrily. +"I'll let you feel the weight of my hand if you don't look sharp." + +<p>"It's mine, Aunt Hepsy. I won't let you see it," he said doggedly. + +<p>Miss Hepsy's face grew very red, and she flung her knitting on the +rug and strode up to him. "Give me that paper." + +<p>"Well, there 'tis; I hope you like it. I wish I'd made it uglier," +cried he angrily, and flung the paper on the table. + +<p>Aunt Hepsy smoothed it out very deliberately, and held it up to the +light. It was a picture of herself, cleverly done, but highly +exaggerated, and the word <i><b>Scold</b></i> printed beneath it. Slowly the red +faded from her face and was replaced by a kind of purple hue. She +lifted her hand and brought it with full force on Tom's cheek. He +sprang to his feet quivering with rage, and pain, and humiliation. +His fierce temper was up, and Lucy trembled for what was to follow. +"Next time you make a fool o' me, boy," said Aunt Hepsy with a slow +smile, "perhaps ye'll get summat ye'll like even less than that." + +<p>Then the boy's anger found vent in words. "If you weren't a woman I'd +knock you down. I hate you, and I wish I'd died before I came to this +horrid place. It's worse than being a beggar living with such people. +You touch me again, and I'll give it you though you are a woman." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy took him by the shoulders and pushed him before her out to +the yard. "Ye'll be cool, I guess, afore I let ye in again," she said +briefly, and then came back to Lucy. + +<p>She was weeping with her face hidden and her work lying on the settle +beside her. + +<p>"Nice brother that of your'n," said Aunt Hepsy. "If he ain't growin' +up to be hanged, my name ain't Hepsy Strong. Here, go on with your +seam, an' don't be foolin' there." + +<p>Lucy silently obeyed, but Aunt Hepsy could not control her thoughts, +and they went pitifully out into the rain after Tom. He stood a +minute or two in a dazed way, and then hurried from the yard, through +the garden and the orchard to the meadow. In one little moment the +victory over temper he had won and kept for weeks was gone; and in +the shame and sorrow which followed, only one person could help him, +and that was Mr. Goldthwaite. There had been many quiet talks with +him since the first Sunday evening, and his lessons had sunk deep +into the boy's heart, and he had indeed been earnestly trying to make +the best of the life and work which had no interest nor sweetness for +him. As he sped through the long, wet grass, heedless of the rain +pelting on his uncovered head, he felt more wretched than he had ever +done in his life before. He had to wade ankle-deep to the bridge, but +fortunately did not encounter a living soul all the way to the +parsonage. Miss Goldthwaite was sewing in the parlour window, and +looked up in amazement to see a drenched, bareheaded boy coming up +the garden path. + +<p>"Why, Tom, it can't be you, is it?" she exclaimed when she opened the +door. "What is it? Nobody ill at Thankful Rest, I hope." + +<p>"No," said Tom. "It's only me; I want to see Mr. Goldthwaite." + +<p>"He has just gone out, but will not be many minutes," said Miss +Goldthwaite, more amazed than ever. "Come in and get dried, and take +tea with me; I was just thinking to have it alone." + +<p>Looking at Miss Goldthwaite in her dainty gray dress and spotless +lace collar and blue ribbons, Tom began to realize that he had done a +foolish thing coming to the parsonage to bother her with his soaking +garments. He would have run off, but Miss Carrie prevented him by +pulling him into the lobby and closing the door. Then she made him +come to the kitchen and remove his boots and jacket. "I have not a +coat to fit, so you'll need to sit in a shawl," laughed she; and the +sound was so infectious that, miserable though he was, Tom laughed +too. Miss Carrie knew perfectly there was a reason for his coming, +and that it would come out by-and-by without asking. So it did. They +had finished tea, and Tom was sitting on a stool at the fire just +opposite Miss Goldthwaite. There had been silence for a little while. + +<p>"I had a frightful row with Aunt Hepsy this afternoon, Miss +Goldthwaite." + +<p>"I am very sorry to hear it," answered she very gravely. "What was it +about?" + +<p>Then the whole story came out; and then Miss Carrie folded up her +work, and bent her sweet eyes on the boy's downcast, sorrowful face. +"I am not going to lecture you, Tom," she said soberly. "But I am +sorry my brave soldier should have been such a coward to-day." + +<p>Tom flung up his head a little proudly. "I am not a coward, Miss +Goldthwaite." + +<p>"Yes, Tom; you remember how Jesus stood all the buffeting and cruelty +of his persecutors, when he could so easily have smitten them all to +death if he had willed. Compare your petty trials with his, and think +how weak you have been." + +<p>Tom was silent. "When my temper is up, Miss Goldthwaite," he said at +length, "I don't care for anything or anybody, except to get it out +somehow. I was keeping so straight, too; I hadn't once answered back +to Uncle Josh or Aunt Hepsy for weeks. It's no use trying to be +good." + +<p>"No use? Why, Tom, if everybody gave up at the first stumble, what +would become of the world, do you think? Our life, you know, is +nothing but falling and rising again, and will be till we reach the +land where all these trials are over. Keep up a brave heart. Begin +again, and keep a double watch over self." + +<p>"I feel as if it would be easy enough to do it when I'm talking to +you or Mr. Goldthwaite, but at home it is different. I shall never be +able to get on with them though I live a hundred years. And O Miss +Goldthwaite, you don't know how I want to go on drawing and painting. +I feel as if I could die sometimes because I can't." + +<p>"When the time comes, dear; and it will come sooner, perhaps, than +you think," said Miss Carrie hopefully. "You will prize it all the +more because of this sharp discipline. Do your duty like a man, and +believe me, God will reward you for it one day." + +<p>"I will try, Miss Goldthwaite," said Tom with a new great earnestness +of face and voice. + +<p>"Now," said Miss Carrie then, with a quick, bright smile, "I'm going +to send you home. I don't mean to tell my brother anything about your +visit. Our talk is to be a secret. He would be so grieved that you +have come to grief again through that tongue of yours. And I hope it +will be a long time before its master loses hold of the bridle +again." She went with him to the kitchen and helped him to dress, and +then opened the door for him. "Now, Tom, you are to go home and tell +your aunt you are sorry for what happened this afternoon; because you +should not have spoken as you did. And remember, Tom, that a +soldier's first duty is obedience." And without giving him a chance +to demur, she nodded good-bye and ran into the house. + +<p>It was raining heavily still, but that Tom did not mind; he was +wondering how to frame his apology to his aunt, and how she would +receive it. + +<p>It was dark when he reached Thankful Rest, and the kitchen door was +barred. He knocked twice, and was answered at last by Aunt Hepsy, who +looked visibly relieved. Feeling that if he waited till he was in the +light his courage would flee, he said hurriedly,— + +<p>"I've been to the parsonage, Aunt Hepsy, and I want to tell you I'm +sorry I drew the picture and spoke to you as I did. If you'll forgive +me this time I won't be so rude again." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy looked slightly amazed. "Dear me, boy, I am thankful to +see ye home again; ye've gev Lucy a fever almost. See an' don't do it +again, that's all." And that was all Tom ever heard about the +afternoon's explosion.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="7">VII.</a><br> +<br> +THE RED HOUSE.</center> +<br> +<p>Judge Keane's place was a mile out of Pendlepoint. It was in the +opposite direction from Thankful Rest, and stood within its own +extensive grounds, at the base of the Peak. The house was built a +little way up the slope, and commanded a magnificent view of the +great plain and the river, whose silver thread was visible long after +all other objects receded from view. You have made the acquaintance +of the judge already; let us accompany Mr. Goldthwaite and his sister +to the Red House on a mild October evening, and make friends with the +rest of the family. When the minister and his sister were ushered +into Mrs. Keane's drawing-room, its only occupants were that lady and +her two daughters, Alice and Minnie. The former was a tall, stately +young lady, like her father, stiff and reserved to strangers, but +much liked by her friends, among whom Carrie Goldthwaite was the +chief. Minnie Keane was a bright-eyed, curly-haired maiden of +fifteen, wild as an antelope, and as full of fun and frolic as any +one of her pet kittens. Their mother was an invalid, seldom able to +leave her couch;—not a fretful invalid, you must understand, but a +sweet, gentle, unselfish woman, who bore her pain and weakness +without a murmur, so that those she loved might be spared pain on her +account. Mr. Goldthwaite often said that Mrs. Keane's life was the +best sermon he had ever come across; and I think he was right. The +brother and sister received a warm welcome. Miss Keane and Carrie +withdrew to the wide window for a private chat, while Mr. Goldthwaite +remained by Mrs. Keane's sofa. He was an especial favourite of hers. +Minnie disappeared, and ere long Judge Keane and his second son, +George, appeared in the drawing-room. It is not necessary for me to +describe Mr. George Keane, except to say that he was his father's +right hand, and the greatest comfort of his mother's life; and that +is saying a great deal, isn't it? When he came in Alice found +something to do at her mother's couch, and her seat in the window did +not long remain unoccupied. There was quite a hum of conversation in +the room, and then when candles were brought in, and the curtains +drawn, Miss Keane said with a smile,— + +<p>"We have not had our pilgrimage up the Peak this fall. If we don't +have it soon it will be too late." + +<p>"Frank and I were talking of it yesterday," said Carrie Goldthwaite. +"The days are so pleasant, why not have it this week or beginning of +next?" + +<p>"Well," said Judge Keane, "settle the day when you are at it; I was +beginning to think our annual excursion was to be forgotten this +fall." + +<p>"This is Thursday, and to-morrow is my class day at Pendlepoint," +said Miss Keane. "Saturday won't suit you, Mr. Goldthwaite?" + +<p>"Monday would be better," admitted Frank. + +<p>"Then Monday be it," said the judge. "We will start at twelve, and +luncheon at the summit at one." + +<p>"And, O papa, mayn't the big waggon go?" pleaded Minnie. "I want to +take Mopsy and Ted and Silver Tail." + +<p>"And all the live stock on the place, little one," laughed her +father. "What do you say, Mr. Goldthwaite? Minnie thinks the kittens +would enjoy the view immensely." + +<p>"The suggestion about the big waggon is opportune," said Mr. George +Keane. "Last year some of the ladies would not have objected to a +seat in it before we reached the top." + +<p>"Some of the gentlemen, too," said Alice Keane with a sly smile. "I +propose the big waggon for faint-hearted climbers, and the little one +for rugs and provisions." + +<p>"I am going to make a petition, Judge Keane," said Carrie +Goldthwaite. "I have two little friends who would enjoy the excursion +as much as any of us, and they have not much enjoyment in their +lives. I mean those orphan children at Thankful Rest. Will you let +them come?" + +<p>"With all my heart; no need to ask, my dear," said the judge +heartily; "and we will do our best to make them enjoy themselves." + +<p>"Thank you, Judge Keane," said Carrie, and her face wore the +expression the old man liked particularly to see there. + +<p>"I see them in church regularly," said Miss Keane. "The girl is a +remarkably pretty child. Robert was quite charmed with her face when +he was here a fortnight ago. I believe he was thinking what a study +she was for a picture instead of listening to you, Mr. Goldthwaite." + +<p>"I scarcely think it, Miss Keane," answered Frank smiling. "At least +he took me to task severely afterwards about a remark in my sermon +which he did not approve." + +<p>"Orphans, did you say, Carrie?" asked Mrs. Keane gently. "Was their +mother Deacon Strong's youngest daughter Hetty?" + +<p>"The same, Mrs. Keane," answered Carrie. "And she must have been very +different from her brother and sister, for the children have been +evidently trained by a refined and cultured mind. Lucy is a perfect +lady, child though she is." + +<p>"I feel very much interested," said Mrs. Keane. + +<p>"I knew their mother slightly, and liked her much. Could you not +bring the children to see me some day?" + +<p>"I shall try, Mrs. Keane; but it is not an easy task begging a +favour from Miss Hepsy, and she seems determined to keep them at +home. I have to take Lucy by main force when I want her at the +parsonage." + +<p>"I hope they'll come, anyway," put in Minnie, "because I never have +anybody to speak to. One grows tired, even of the Peak, when there's +nobody but grown-up people to go on to. That's why I want Mopsy and +Ted and Silver Tail. It wouldn't be so lonesome. But they can stay at +home if Lucy comes." + +<p>"Poor Minnie," said her father, laughing with the rest at the child's +aggrieved tone. "We must do all we can to persuade them, then, to +spare you the necessity of frightening the cats out of their wits." + +<p>"I'll go up to Thankful Rest to-morrow and extract permission from +Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, "though I am not very hopeful of the +result.—Come, Frank, we must be off; it is nearly eight." + +<p>"You will let us know on Sunday, then, if they can come," said Miss +Keane; and with cordial good-nights the friends parted. + +<p>Early next afternoon Miss Goldthwaite walked up to Thankful Rest on +her mission to Miss Hepsy. That lady was making preserves, for which +Lucy had been kept since early morning paring and coring apples and +stoning plums. As Miss Goldthwaite passed the kitchen window, she +caught a glimpse of a slight figure almost lost in a huge apron, and +a very white, weary-looking face bent over the basket of fruit. Aunt +Hepsy was grimly stirring a panful of plums over the stove, and did +not look particularly overjoyed to see Miss Goldthwaite; but Lucy +did. + +<p>"Always busy, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie briskly, not choosing to mind +the snappy greeting she received. "I declare I always feel a lazy, +good-for-nothing creature when I come to Thankful Rest.—Here, Lucy +child, sit down and let me do your work while I am here; you look +tired." + +<p>The quiet eyes raised themselves in loving gratitude to the sweet +face, and she was not slow to avail herself of the chance of a +moment's rest. Miss Hepsy sniffed, but made no audible demur. + +<p>"What splendid fruit, Miss Hepsy!" said the visitor after a moment's +silence; "I have seen none like it in Pendlepoint this fall." + +<p>"It's well enough," said Miss Hepsy, a little mollified. "Your folks +all well, Miss Goldthwaite?" + +<p>"Thank you, yes; and papa and mamma are coming from New York next +week, if the weather keeps fine. I can hardly sleep or eat for joy, +Miss Hepsy; and Frank is almost as bad." + +<p>"You be like children about your father and mother yet," said Miss +Hepsy brusquely. "I reckon you'd better not marry in Pendlepoint, or +there'll be an end to your goin' home any more." + +<p>Carrie laughed. + +<p>"I don't see why it should come to an end then, Miss Hepsy," she +said. "Even married people get a holiday sometimes." + +<p>"I guess they don't see many o' them," replied Miss Hepsy. "I think +you're a fool to marry, anyway, Miss Goldthwaite, when the parson +thinks such a heap of you." + +<p>Carrie laughed again, more amused than ever. + +<p>"Talking of holidays, Miss Hepsy," she said, "I want you to give this +patient little maiden one, and Tom too." + +<p>"Not if I know it," answered Miss Hepsy promptly. + +<p>"Oh yes you will," said Miss Goldthwaite serenely. "We are to have a +picnic up the Peak on Monday, in Judge Keane's waggon. I've set my +heart on Lucy and Tom, and half a day is nothing." + +<p>"It makes 'em idle and restless for days, Miss Goldthwaite," said +Aunt Hepsy, with grim decision, "an' I ain't a-goin' to have it, so +let it a be." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite held her peace a moment, and then went straight up +to Aunt Hepsy, and, to Lucy's amazement, laid her two hands on her +shoulders and looked into her face with laughing eyes. "Do you know +you are the most disagreeable woman in the township, Miss Hepsy, and +that there isn't another would be so cross with me as you are? I'll +come up and pare apples for two whole days if you'll let me have Lucy +and Tom. Look me in the face and refuse me if you dare." + +<p>Miss Hepsy actually smiled. "I never saw sech a cretur," she said. +"Ye'd move the very Peak wi' them eyes o' your'n. I'm real sorry for +Mr. George Keane, anyway. Well, have yer own way, and go off home. +You're only hinderin' my work, and I hain't a minute to lose." + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, with a very eloquent glance of +her irresistible eyes.—"Now, Lucy," said she then, turning to the +child, "come down to the parsonage on Monday morning at eleven, you +and Tom, and we will go up to the Red House together. Good-bye, dear; +the fresh air up the Peak will brighten that white face, I hope. +Don't forget, now." + +<p>"Forget! O Miss Carrie," was all she said, but her eyes were very dim +as she returned her kiss. Lucy had been feeling peculiarly sad and +down-hearted, and Miss Goldthwaite had come and brought with her the +sunshine which seemed to follow her everywhere. + +<p>Then Carrie bade Miss Hepsy good-bye, and went away. Looking about +her as she went through the garden, she espied Tom painting waggon +wheels in the yard. A few steps took her to the boy's side, and he +looked up with a glad smile of surprise. + +<p>"Busy too, Tom," she said pleasantly. "I don't think this place +should be called Thankful Rest. Nobody seems to take a rest here. How +do you like this work?" + +<p>"Don't ask me, Miss Goldthwaite," said the lad. "You remember you +told me to make the best of it; but it isn't easy." + +<p>"It will grow easy by-and-by," she said, and laid her hand a moment +on his arm, and her beautiful eyes grew grave and earnest. "Does my +soldier find his Captain able to help even in dark hours?" + +<p>"Yes, Miss Goldthwaite." That was all, but it was said so simply and +earnestly that Carrie's heart grew glad. + +<p>"We are to have a picnic up the Peak on Monday in Judge Keane's +waggon," said she after a moment. "Your aunt has promised to let you +and Lucy come. Will you like it?" + +<p>"Like it! Up the Peak! O Miss Goldthwaite," said the boy, looking +away to the towering hill beyond, "I have wished I could go every day +since I came. How good you are to Lucy and me!" + +<p>"She will tell you when to be ready. In the meantime I must go," said +Miss Goldthwaite with her pleasant smile. "Good-bye, and success to +the waggon-painting."</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="8">VIII.</a><br> +<br> +UP THE PEAK.</center> +<br> +<p>Tom and Lucy Hurst peered anxiously out of their chamber windows at +six o'clock on Monday morning to see a clear, calm, beautiful sky, +with a faint roseate flush in the east, where, by-and-by, the sun +would come up brilliantly. Aunt Hepsy was as cross as two sticks, and +Uncle Josh morose and taciturn; but even these things failed to damp +their spirits, and at a quarter to eleven they set off, a very happy +pair, across the meadow to the parsonage. Both looked well. Lucy's +mourning, though simple and inexpensive, was wonderfully becoming; +and some fine delicate lace, which had been her mother's, relieved +the sombre black dress nicely. Miss Goldthwaite was very proud of her +friends, and told them so when she greeted them. They were just in +time, and the four set off, Tom in front with Miss Goldthwaite, and +Lucy walking with the minister. She was shy and quiet, but somehow +nobody could be long afraid of Mr. Goldthwaite. He possessed his +sister's charm of manner, and drew Lucy on to talk in spite of +herself. At the Red House there was a great bustle. The big waggon +was at the front door, and the little one at the back, into which the +cook was stowing all sorts of eatables. Minnie Keane, in a state of +great excitement, was flying about with a tiny kitten in each arm, +the mother following at her heels mewing piteously for her children +to be left in safety. Minnie dropped the kittens when she saw the +party from the parsonage coming round the avenue, and ran to meet +them. Miss Goldthwaite made the introductions, and then she and Mr. +Goldthwaite passed into the house, leaving the children beside the +waggon. There was but a moment's shyness, and then the irrepressible +Minnie's tongue began to go freely. + +<p>"You look nice, Lucy," she said frankly. "I guess we'll have a good +time to-day. There always is a good time when papa takes us +anywhere." + +<p>"This is a nice horse," said Tom, feeling he must say something. +"What's his name?" + +<p>"Oh, that's Billy. He's very old, and rather cross. You should see +papa's Beauty. Come to the stable and I'll show you her." + +<p>She drew Lucy's arm within her own and darted off, Tom following. +Minnie was quite at home in the stable, and familiar with every +animal in it. Beauty pricked up her ears and whinnied at the touch of +Minnie's caressing fingers. + +<p>"You ask Miss Goldthwaite about Beauty," she said. "She thinks there +isn't another horse like her in the world.—Don't you love horses, +Lucy?" + +<p>"Yes; I love all animals," replied Lucy. "I saw some nice little +kittens round there." + +<p>"Yes; I've three. We'd better go round now, I think; perhaps they'll +want to be going.—I'm glad it's a fine day; aren't you, Tom?" + +<p>"I think I am. I looked out at six this morning to see if it was. +It'll be glorious up the Peak." + +<p>As the three came round to the front door again, Miss Keane appeared +on the threshold. She looked very tall and stately and awe-inspiring +with her trailing dress and eye-glass. Yet her smile as she shook +hands with the children was so pleasant that Lucy forgot to be afraid +of her. + +<p>"My mother would like to see you, Tom and Lucy," she said. "Will you +come upstairs? she is not able to leave the room, you know.—Minnie, +I wish you would look round for papa. It is just twelve; we should be +going." + +<p>Minnie scampered off, and Tom and Lucy followed Miss Keane up the +broad staircase into the drawing-room, the beauty of which held them +spellbound for a few minutes. On a couch near the fire lay a lady, +with gray hair and a pale, thin, worn face, which wore such an +expression of peace and happiness that Lucy felt her heart go out to +her at once. Mr. and Miss Goldthwaite and George Keane were there +also. Mrs. Keane held out both her hands, and the two came shyly +forward—Tom blushing a little to be among so many strangers. + +<p>"I am glad to see you, my dears," she said very heartily.—"Kiss me, +Lucy. I knew your mother, dear. You remind me of her very much." + +<p>The ready tears sprang to Lucy's eyes. Kindness always moved her +thus, and she took a stool close to the couch, while Tom's eyes +wandered round the room, lingering hungrily on the exquisite +water-colours on the walls. It was long since he had had such an +opportunity. At Thankful Rest the art collection consisted of a few +family portraits, ludicrous alike in execution and in colouring. A +smile and a glance passed from Mr. Goldthwaite to his sister as they +noted how speedily the boy became absorbed. + +<p>"These are my brother Robert's drawings," said Miss Keane, touching +his arm and beckoning him to come nearer. "You are fond of painting, +I think?" + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Tom, his face flushing a little. "And these +are so beautiful, I could not help looking at them." + +<p>"If you will come up to the Red House some other day, I shall show +you all my brother's sketch-books and odd drawings," said Miss Keane. +"I am very fond of the work myself, and might perhaps be able to help +you a little, you know, and I think you would make a clever pupil; +what do you say?" + +<p>The eyes behind the glasses beamed so kindly at him that Tom forgot +that his first impression of her had been unpleasant, and a warm +flush of gratitude answered her better than his words. They were few +and sad enough. + +<p>"There is nothing I should like so much in the world, ma'am, and I +thank you very much; but I can't come—my uncle and aunt would not +let me." + +<p>"I must see about that," said Miss Keane promptly; and at that moment +Judge Keane's stately figure appeared in the doorway. + +<p>"Are you going to sit there all day, you young folk?" he called out +hastily.—"Oh, here you are, little ones;—glad to see you, my lad;" +and he gave Tom's hand a warm grasp, and touched Lucy's white face +with his forefinger. + +<p>"Want some roses there, doesn't she, wife?" he said. "There'll be a +glorious air up the Peak to-day, it will bring them there, if +anything will." + +<p>"I wish you could have come, dear Mrs. Keane," whispered Carrie as +she bent a moment over the couch before they passed out; "you used to +be the very sunshine of us all." + +<p>"I think of you, dear, and am happy in my own way at home," she +replied with her sweet smile; "take care of yourself and of this pale +little maiden.—Lucy dear, good-bye. Come and see me again." + +<p>"Indeed I will, if I can, ma'am," replied Lucy earnestly; and then +they all went away. Minnie was already in the big waggon waiting +impatiently for the start. + +<p>"You will go inside too, little one, I suppose," said the judge to +Lucy; and with one swing of his strong arms he placed her beside +Minnie. "The rest of us will walk a piece, I fancy. As this is +supposed to be a climbing expedition, we must make some show, at +least, to begin with." + +<p>There was a general laugh, and Tom and Lucy thought there could not +be so pleasant an old gentleman as Judge Keane anywhere. + +<p>Miss Keane elected Tom for her cavalier, and made him feel very +important indeed, by treating him as if he were quite a man; and they +got into a very interesting talk about the great painters and their +work. She was astonished to find what a thorough knowledge the boy +had of the subject, and how well he could talk on what interested him +most. + +<p>"Robert must see this young artist," was her mental comment. The +judge followed behind with Mr. Goldthwaite; while Mr. George Keane +and Miss Goldthwaite brought up the rear, walking very slowly, and +talking very earnestly. Nobody took any notice of them whatever, +evidently being of opinion that they were quite capable of amusing +each other. The waggon-path, winding gradually up the mountain side, +was rough and stony, and even Billy's cautious feet stumbled +sometimes; and the two girls were jolted so that they laughed till +they cried. + +<p>"I think we'd better get out; don't you, Lucy?" cried Minnie at last, +"else there'll be none of us left to see the top of the Peak. I never +was so sore in my life. Isn't it fun though?" + +<p>"Yes; and the sun is so bright, and everybody so kind, and everything +so pleasant, I don't know what to do," said Lucy with softening eyes. +Minnie looked at her curiously. + +<p>"I say, don't you have any good times at your home, Lucy?" she asked +soberly. + +<p>"Sometimes—not very often," answered Lucy reluctantly. + +<p>"I don't think your aunt is a very nice woman anyway," said Minnie +with her usual candour. "She looked at me so one day in church, +'cause I laughed right out at a funny little dog with a stumpy tail +running in and right up to Mr. Goldthwaite. Wouldn't you have laughed +too?" + +<p>"I don't know," said Lucy; "if it was very funny, I daresay I would." + +<p>"How pretty you are," said Minnie after a while; "my sister Alice +says so—I guess she knows." Lucy blushed, not being accustomed to +such plain speaking. "I think Miss Goldthwaite perfectly elegant," +went on the young critic. "She is going to marry my brother George, +do you know?" + +<p>"Is she?" asked Lucy, much interested. + +<p>"Yes; and papa and mamma are crazed about her. Everybody is. Isn't +she just splendid?" + +<p>"There is nobody like her," answered Lucy. Minnie could never know +what she had been and was to her. + +<p>"Lovers are stupid, don't you think?" asked Minnie again. "They +always go away by themselves, and things; you just watch George and +Carrie to-day. It is a great trial to me." + +<p>"What is?" asked Mr. George Keane, pausing at the side of the waggon. +Minnie laughed outright, so did Lucy. + +<p>"It's a secret," replied she in a very dignified way.—"O Miss +Goldthwaite, are you coming into the waggon?" + +<p>"Yes;—will you make room for me, Lucy?" + +<p>Lucy moved further up the cushion, and Mr. George Keane assisted Miss +Goldthwaite to her place. + +<p>"O Carrie, succumbed already!" cried Miss Keane. + +<p>"Won't you come in too?" replied Carrie. + +<p>"No, thank you; I mean to climb to the top. Somebody must sustain the +credit of our sex." + +"I know it's safe in your hands, Alice," said Carrie serenely.—"Lucy +dear, you look happy. Do you enjoy it?" + +<p>The sparkle in Lucy's eyes answered her better than any words. + +<p>The road was becoming rougher and steeper, and Billy's progress +slower and slower, and the summit of the Peak drawing nearer and +nearer. Miss Keane and Tom had got ahead of the waggon, and were the +first to reach the top. At last Billy, with a great pull, brought the +waggon to the level ground, and then stood still. They all alighted, +and, forming a little circle, stood drinking in the beauty of the +scene. Wondering how Tom would be affected, Miss Keane turned to +speak to him, but he had gone; and looking round, she saw him +standing by a huge boulder, but his face was turned away, and +understanding why he felt it best to be alone for a few minutes, she +did not venture to disturb him. It was a panorama of wonderful +beauty. They seemed to stand up among the clouds, the air was so pure +and cool and bracing. Far beneath, the houses of the town looked like +a tiny ant-nest, enveloped in a filmy haze. The great plain stretched +around for miles and miles, dotted here and there by many a pretty +homestead, and intersected by the winding river, glinting and +glistening in the sun as it hurried on and on to join the far-off +sea. Far across the plain the smoke of distant cities obscured the +horizon, but none of the noise or bustle was borne on the breeze to +this lonely mountain peak. A great silence fell upon the little +company, and some bright eyes grew dim as they looked upon the beauty +of the world the great Creator had made. + +<p>"Just say a few words of prayer, Frank," said the judge at length, in +a soft voice; "it will do us all good, I think." Mr. Goldthwaite took +off his hat reverently. + +<p>"Our Father, we thank thee for this day. We thank thee for sparing us +all to come here again; and for the sunshine, and the beauty, and the +gladness of the earth. Help us more and more to feel the power and +majesty of thy hand, and the great love of thy infinite heart. Be +with every one of us to-day, blessing us as only thou canst bless, +and help us to live to thy glory; for Jesus' sake. Amen." + +<p>"Amen," repeated Judge Keane. "Now we can begin the day with a better +heart than ever."</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="9">IX.</a><br> +<br> +A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED.</center> +<br> +<p>It was great fun unpacking the baskets, and Tom made himself very +useful to the ladies; so much so, that Miss Goldthwaite felt +constrained to whisper one word of praise in his ear, which sent a +glow to his heart. Surely never was meal so enjoyed as that lunch on +the summit of Pendle Peak; and they lingered so long over it, that +Judge Keane passed a great many jokes on the gigantic appetites, and +professed great concern about the small quantity of provisions left +for tea. When plates and forks and knives were stowed in the waggon +again, the party broke up in twos and threes, and went off exploring. +Lucy was tired, and said she would remain beside the goods and +chattels, whereupon the judge declared he would keep her company. Mr. +George and Miss Goldthwaite went off together to search for ferns, +they said; while Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom went to +the ravine on the other side of the Peak to find some rare specimens +of wild flowers Miss Keane was anxious to secure for her collection. +The judge was to whistle at four o'clock, if they had not then +returned; and promised to have tea ready, which was considered a +great joke. Lucy sat on the smooth green turf, leaning against a +boulder, feasting her eyes on the beauty, of which she thought her +eyes could never tire. The judge lay on the grass with half-closed +eyes, looking at the girl's sweet face, wondering why it looked older +and sadder and more womanly than it ought. It was a good while before +either spoke. + +<p>"Would you mind telling me, Judge Keane, please," said Lucy timidly, +"where Newhaven lies from here, and how far it is?" + +<p>The judge raised himself on his elbow, put on his gold eye-glass, and +looked along the plain. "There, straight as the crow flies, little +one," he said, pointing west. "It is about thirty miles in a direct +line from where we sit; by rail about fifty, I think." + +<p>"It is a long way," she said, and a little sigh followed, as if she +wished it nearer. + +<p>"You lived in Newhaven, I think, didn't you?" asked the judge. + +<p>"Yes, sir, till mamma died. It is not a nice place, but I love it +dearly." + +<p>Ay, for a quiet grave there held the loved father and mother who had +once made for her a happy home. + +<p>The judge did not speak, he did not know what to say just then, and +Lucy did not seem to expect an answer. He shut his eyes again, and +there was a long silence. Thinking he slept, Lucy rose, and, gently +laying a rug over him, slipped away. He opened his eyes directly and +watched her. She only moved a few yards from him, and knelt down with +her face to the west. He heard a few faltering words, followed by a +sob—"O dear papa and mamma, I wonder if you can see Tom and me +to-day, and know how happy we are. God bless the dear friends who +have made us so, for Christ's sake. Amen." + +<p>The judge's lips twitched beneath his mustache, and when Lucy rose +again, he drew the rug up over his face, not wishing her to see that +he had heard that little prayer. But he never forgot it. Two hours +did not take long to slip away, and then the judge sat up and looked +at Lucy with a comical smile. + +<p>"It is ten minutes to four, little one, and there isn't a sign of the +wanderers. Suppose you and I make tea: do you think we could manage +it between us?" + +<p>"Oh yes, sir; I know how to build a fire, and make tea too, and there +are sticks in the waggon. May I try?" + +<p>"Of course, and I'll help to the best of my limited ability." + +<p>Lucy went to the waggon and got out sticks and the kettle, while the +judge made an amateur stove between four stones. Lucy then laid the +fire, and in a minute there was quite a cheerful little blaze. Water +was the next thing, and the judge remembered there used to be a tiny +spring a few yards down the slope, which was found without any +difficulty; and he brought back the kettle filled, and placed it on +the fire. He had so many odd remarks to make about his new +occupation, that Lucy was kept laughing pretty nearly all the time. +It was getting on for five o'clock before four heads appeared at the +edge of the slope. Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom +arrived laden with flowers and ferns, and reported themselves +exhausted, and thankful to see that tea was ready. George and Carrie +had not been seen since they departed at two o'clock." + +<p>"You made tea all by yourself, Lucy," said Miss Keane, laying her +kind hand on Lucy's sunny head. "Clever little maiden, how are we to +thank you?" + +<p>"Judge Keane helped me, Miss Alice," replied Lucy blushing and +smiling. + +<p>"Helped! I should think I did," said the judge tragically: "she sat +on the waggon like a queen, and commanded me like a slave. She looks +meek and mild enough, but don't trust her." + +<p>"Papa, how much nonsense do you talk in a day?" she said. "I wish the +other two would turn up; I'm famished." + +<p>"Are we to wait on them, papa?" inquired Minnie piteously. "I guess +they don't want any tea: lovers never want anything to eat. Mayn't +we have it now?" + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Keane.—"Lucy dear, may I trouble you for the +teapot.—Papa, hand the sugar, and make yourself useful." + +<p>"What a real nice boy your brother Tom is," said Minnie Keane, +dropping down by Lucy's side. "We had a splendid time down there, +while Alice and Mr. Goldthwaite talked out of books. Aren't you very +fond of him?" + +<p>"Of Tom? Of course I am," answered Lucy; "you know I have nobody but +him, and he has nobody but me." + +<p>"Lucy, your tea is delightful," said Mr. Goldthwaite from the other +side of the table-cloth. "I don't know when I enjoyed anything so +well." + +<p>"Hunger is good sauce," said the judge;—"here are the truants." Mr. +George Keane and Miss Goldthwaite appeared now, apparently very much +astonished to find themselves behind time. The judge made room for +Carrie beside himself, and after looking blankly at her for a few +minutes, said solemnly, "I thought I heard you say you wanted ferns; +but I must have been mistaken, or possibly they haven't come up in +the glen this year.—Some tea here, Alice.—Miss Goldthwaite, may I +help you to a piece of cake?" The truants joined in the laugh against +themselves, and the rest of the meal was passed in a perfect babel of +talking. + +<p>"What shall we do now, papa?" said Alice when they had finished. "We +won't be going home for a little while." + +<p>The judge looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes past five: we shall +start at six. Well, I propose that each member of the company +composes, within the space of ten minutes, four lines of verse +descriptive of the scenery. I have brought pencils and paper; and the +best writer shall have my gold pencil-case to him or her self." + +<p>There was a general exclamation, and each one declared it impossible +to perform such a feat. + +<p>"Try," said the judge briefly; and he passed round the pencils and +the sheets of paper. Then he laid his watch on the cloth, and gave +the signal. You would have laughed at the utter stillness then, and +at the perplexity on each face. Slowly the hands moved round, till +the ten minutes were up, and the judge cried halt. + +<p>"You read then, judge," said Mr. Goldthwaite; "begin with your own." + +<p>"Well, here I am," said the judge with a very comical smile, and he +read slowly and distinctly:—</p> + +<blockquote> +"It seems to me that if you go<br> +Enjoyment for to seek,<br> +You'll find out all you want and more<br> +Up here on Pendle Peak." +</blockquote> + +<p>A shout of laughter greeted th is effusion, and the judge pretended to +be highly offended. + +<p>"I object to the 'for' in the second line," said Mr. Goldthwaite. + +<p>"Do you think I don't know it has no business there?" said the judge. +"But I couldn't get it to rhyme, so I was obliged to put in +something. It is not bad for an old fellow who never made two lines +rhyme before in his life. Come then, Frank, pass up yours."</p> + +<blockquote> + "To read a page from Nature's book,<br> + In this deep solitude,<br> + Uplifts the heart in purer aims,<br> + And leads us nearer God." +</blockquote> + +<p>"True, Frank," said the judge solemnly. "You have beaten me hollow +anyway.—Now, Carrie." + +<p>"Mine is very poor indeed, Judge Keane," said Carrie, as she passed +up her slip. "Like yours it is my first attempt."</p> + +<blockquote> + "The beauty of the hills,<br> + So calm, so free, so bright,<br> + Can dim my eyes with tears,<br> + And fill me with delight." +</blockquote> + +<p>"Very good" was the verdict; and then Miss Keane reluctantly gave up +her paper.</p> + +<blockquote> + "How still it is! No rude discord<br> + Falls on the ear;<br> + We feel all earthly thoughts and aims<br> + Must vanish here." +</blockquote> + +<p>That also was pronounced "very good," and Judge Keane feared he +should have some difficulty in adjudicating the prize. Mr. George +Keane's was the next.</p> + +<blockquote> + "I never wrote a poem, but since<br> + You will not be refused,<br> + I do declare I don't know how,<br> + And beg to be excused." +</blockquote> + +<p>"You have no chance anyway, George," said his father, laughing with +the rest. "It has not the remotest reference to the subject in +hand.—Well, Lucy." + +<p>"Mine last, please," pleaded Lucy. + +<p>So the judge took the paper from Minnie's hand and read,—</p> + +<blockquote> + "Papa, you know I can't make verse,<br> + And it was very bad<br> + Of you to make us play at this,—<br> + I tell you I'm real mad." +</blockquote> + +<p>There was another shout at Minnie's performance, and then Lucy +timidly slipped her paper into the judge's hand, and drew back behind +Minnie. The judge read very slowly this time, and every beautiful +word was distinctly heard.</p> + +<blockquote> + "The calm, still brightness on the hills,<br> + The beauty on the plain,<br> + Fill all my heart with strange sweet joy,<br> + That is akin to pain.<br> +<br> + "We stand upon a stepping-stone<br> + Up to the Better Land;<br> + I seem to see the glory there,<br> + And feel my Father's hand.<br> +<br> + "And hovering near me seem to be<br> + The loved ones gone before;<br> + One day we'll mount God's stepping-stones,<br> + And weep earth's tears no more." +</blockquote> + +<p>There was a moment's surprised silence. All eyes were turned to Lucy, +who shrank further back with a very distressed face. + +<p>"The prize is yours, Lucy," said Judge Keane at length.—"Who would +have thought this shy little maiden was the poet of the company?" + +<p>There were many other remarks made, which seemed to distress Lucy so +much that they held their peace at length, and the judge remembered +Tom's contribution had not been called for. + +<p>"You thought you were to escape, young man," said he, as he received +the paper from Tom's reluctant hand. "Perhaps the last may be best +yet, who knows? Well, I never—ha! ha!" + +<p>He held up the paper, and lo, a sketch of the circle of anxious +faces, with paper and pencil before them, and every expression true +to the life. It was wonderfully well done, and created much amusement +as it was handed round the company. + +<p>"The pencil-case is Lucy's," said the judge. "But I think you deserve +a special prize, my lad. Will you let me keep this? Robert must see +it." + +<p>"Yes, sir, of course," answered Tom. "When I felt a pencil in my hand +I had to draw. I always feel so." + +<p>"True artist; eh, Carrie?" whispered the judge, and she nodded +assent. She had not yet recovered from the surprise Lucy had given +her. + +<p>"The sun is thinking of setting," said the judge then. "We must be +preparing to depart." + +<p>There was a general move, and Miss Keane and Miss Goldthwaite +proceeded to clear the table. + +<p>"Let us sit here and see the sun set, and have a talk, Lucy," said +Minnie, drawing Lucy a little apart. "What a perfectly elegant poem +that was you wrote. It's 'most as good as Whittier's George reads to +mamma sometimes. I guess you'll grow up to be a Mrs. Whittier." + +<p>"Oh no," said Lucy, laughing a little; "Miss Keane's was just as +good, I think, only I wrote more. How funny yours was." + +<p>"I should think so. Mopsy, or Ted, or Silver Tail could do just as +well, I believe.—Tom, won't you draw me a picture of my very own to +keep? I wish you'd come up and do the kittens; won't you? I ask +Robert every time he comes, but he just teases me." + +<p>"I'll draw a kitten for you if you like," answered Tom readily, "but +I can't promise to come up and do it." + +<p>Before very long Billy was harnessed again, and after bidding a +reluctant good-bye to the Peak for another year, the descent was +begun. Lucy walked part of the way with Mr. George Keane's arm to +help her along, and Miss Goldthwaite beckoned Tom to her side. + +<p>"I haven't seen much of you to-day, Tom," she said pleasantly. "Have +you had a nice day?" + +"I shall never forget it, Miss Goldthwaite," answered Tom very +gravely. + +<p>And though after years brought many happy excursions up the Peak, +never was one so exquisitely enjoyed as this had been. The sun had +dropped behind the hill when the tired party reached the Red House, +and a big moon was coming up serenely in the opal sky. Mr. and Miss +Goldthwaite paused at the avenue gate, saying they would not come any +further; so the good-nights were said there and the company +separated. + +<p>"Good-night, my little poetess," whispered the judge as he lifted +Lucy from the waggon. "Go on writing, my dear; we will hear of you +yet." And he kissed her as he set her to the ground, and added +softly, "You have done an old man good to-day though you did not know +it." + +<p>It was a very quiet walk home by the river-side to the parsonage, but +the thoughts were all pleasant ones. Mr. Goldthwaite had not spoken +much to Lucy all day, but he had watched her, how closely she did not +know. He held her hand at parting, and looked straight into her +beautiful eyes, his own very grave and earnest. + +<p>"God bless you, Lucy; good-night." She wondered a little at the +oddness of his manner. "My soldier has shown to advantage to-day," +said Miss Carrie, smiling as she shook hands with Tom. "I have been +very proud of him." + +<p>"Lucy," said Tom, as they turned into the paddock at Thankful Rest, +"do you know what I'm going to do when I'm a man?" + +<p>"Be a great painter," answered Lucy promptly. "What else?" + +<p>"Anything else?" inquired she in much surprise. + +<p>"I'm going to marry Miss Goldthwaite!" + +<p>Lucy laughed outright. + +<p>"You can't, Tom; she's going to marry Mr. George Keane, Minnie told +me." + +<p>"Is she? Well, Mr. George Keane is a very good fellow," said Tom in a +tone which would have infinitely amused that gentleman had he heard +it; "but he isn't half good enough for her.—O Lucy, hasn't this been +a day?" + +<p>"Yes," answered Lucy, and she turned full eyes up to the quiet sky. +"I think papa and mamma must see us, and be glad we have been happy." + +<p>"I feel so too," answered Tom with the sudden beautiful earnestness +which had often come to him of late.—"Kiss me, Lucy; there are only +you and I." + +<p>She put her arm about his neck, and kissed him as he wished; then the +two went very soberly into the house.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="10">X</a><br>. +<br> +ON THE LAKE.</center> +<br> +<p>On the first morning of November the summit of the Peak was draped in +white, and a slight sprinkling of snow sparkled on the plain. Frost +was hard enough to freeze the duck-pond and the horse-trough. Winter +had begun. It was very cold; Lucy shivered over her dressing every +morning in her little attic chamber, and had just to work to get +warm, as Aunt Hepsy permitted no sitting over the stove. Tom had to +turn out of doors at six every morning, and feed a score of cattle +before breakfast, and woe betide him if the work was not done up to +Uncle Josh's mark. Uncle Josh had a vocabulary of his own, from which +he selected many an epithet to bestow on Tom! Sometimes yet the quick +temper would fly up, and there would be a war of words; but the lad's +strong striving was beginning to bear its fruit, and he found it +daily easier to keep hold of the bridle, as Miss Goldthwaite termed +it. Keziah had been dismissed also, and Lucy's burden was sometimes +more than she could bear. Miss Hepsy refused to see what others +saw—that the girl was overwrought; and her feelings had been blunted +so long, that only a very sharp shock would bring them into use +again. And the time had not come yet. For more highly favoured young +folks than Tom and Lucy Hurst, these frosty days brought innumerable +enjoyments in their train—skating and sleighing by daylight and +moonlight, evening parties, and all sorts of frolics. There were gay +times at the Red House, especially when in Christmas week Mr. Robert +Keane came home, bringing with him two school-boy cousins from +Philadelphia. Miss Alice Keane called at Thankful Rest on her pony, +one morning, to ask Tom and Lucy to a Christmas-eve gathering. The +invitation was curtly declined by Miss Hepsy, and she was dismissed +with such scant courtesy that she departed very indignant indeed. + +<p>"What a woman that is at Thankful Rest," she said to Miss Goldthwaite +when she called at the parsonage. "I almost forgot myself, Carrie, +and nearly gave her a few rude words. I am truly sorry for those poor +children." + +<p>"Well you may be," answered Carrie with a sigh, knowing better than +Alice what their life was. + +<p>Only one half-holiday was vouchsafed to them at Miss Goldthwaite's +earnest entreaty, and they took tea at the parsonage, after which the +party went up to the Red House pond to see the skating there. They +were very warmly welcomed—Minnie, especially, being quite overjoyed +to see Lucy again. + +<p>"Do you skate, Tom?" asked Miss Keane, coming up breathless after a +long run down the lake. + +<p>"Yes, Miss Keane. But I have no skates; they were left at home—in +Newhaven, I mean." + +<p>"Here, Minnie, my pet, run to the house and bring out a couple of +pairs. You will find them in George's room, I think; and tell Robert +<i><b>I</b></i> want him on the lake." + +<p>Minnie ran off obediently. Pretty soon Mr. George Keane and the two +cousins appeared round the bend, and Miss Keane introduced the latter +to Tom. They did not take long to become acquainted, and were soon +talking quite familiarly. They stood waiting till Minnie returned, +her brother with her, carrying the skates. He was a tall, slight +young man, rather like Miss Keane; and his face looked a trifle stern +at first, as hers did, but that wore off when you got to know him. + +<p>"This is Tom Hurst I told you of, Robert," said Miss Keane; and Tom +shook hands with him reverentially, remembering he was the great +painter all America was talking of. + +<p>"I'm glad to see you," said Mr. Robert Keane frankly. "Let us get on +our skates, and you and I shall take a run together. I haven't been +on the ice this season." + +<p>Tom sat down and quickly put on his skates, and the pair set off, +keeping close together. Miss Keane turned to Mr. Goldthwaite with a +smile. "Robert is interested already. I want him to do something for +Tom, and I think he will." + +<p>"He will not regret it," answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "They are all off +now but we two, Miss Keane; come, we must not be behind." + +<p>"My sister tells me you would like to be a painter, Tom," said Mr. +Robert Keane, when they had gone a hundred yards in silence. + +<p>"Yes, sir," answered Tom, wishing to say a great deal more, but +unable to utter more than two words. + +<p>"What would you say to go back to Philadelphia, and let me look after +your training?" + +<p>"O Mr. Keane!" Tom stood still on the ice and lifted incredulous eyes +to his companion's face. There was a smile there, but the eyes were +sincere enough. + +<p>"I see you would like it. Don't stand; we can talk while we go. Well, +my boy, there is a great deal of hard work, patient plodding, +uninteresting study to be gone through, and as many failures and +tumbles as days in the year, before you reach even the first step of +the ladder. Do you think you could go through it?" + +<p>"I would go through anything, Mr. Keane, and toil for twenty years, +if need be, only to be allowed to work at it. Do you know, it is life +to me even to think of it." + +<p>Robert Keane glanced curiously at the lad. His face was kindling with +emotion, and his eyes shone like stars. + +<p>"All right, my boy; you're the right stuff, I see. Leave it with me; +I'll fix it right enough. And you'll go to Philadelphia as sure as my +name's Keane. No need to thank me. Let your future success be my +reward, if I need any. Let us try a race back; you're a splendid +skater." + +<p>They turned, and sped along the ice at lightning speed, and Tom came +in a dozen yards in front at the farther side. + +<p>"Ahead of me," laughed Mr. Keane. "Is that an omen of the future, +Tom?" + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite noted the boy's flushed, happy face and bright eyes, +and concluded Mr. Robert Keane must have wrought the change. She +turned to remark upon it to Alice, when a hand touched her arm, and +Tom's voice said eagerly, "Will you skate with me, Miss Goldthwaite? +I want to speak to you." She nodded smilingly and gave him her hand. + +<p>"O Miss Goldthwaite," said Tom in a great burst of happiness, "Mr. +Robert Keane says he will take me to Philadelphia with him, and help +me to be a painter." + +<p>"I guessed he would," said Carrie. "I am very glad of it, Tom. Do you +remember what I said about this joy coming in God's good time?" + +<p>"I have not forgotten, Miss Goldthwaite." + +<p>She stopped on the ice, and laid her slim hand a moment on his +shoulder. "My soldier will remember his Captain still, I hope, in +those happier days, and work for Him with double energy because they +are happier." + +<p>The moonlight showed trembling drops in the boy's earnest eyes as he +answered reverently—"I will never forget how good He has been to me, +Miss Goldthwaite, when I so little deserved it." + +<p>"That is right, my boy; I am not afraid of you," she said heartily. +"Here we are round the bend. How lovely that moonlight shines through +these gloomy pines. Let us go right to the end before we turn." + +<p>They set off again along the smooth sheet of ice, and as they neared +the farther end of the lake Miss Goldthwaite turned aside to explore +an opening between the trees. A moment more and Tom heard a crash, +followed by a faint scream. He looked round, to see the edge of Miss +Goldthwaite's fur cloak disappearing through a huge fissure in the +ice! He had presence of mind to utter one wild, despairing cry, which +re-echoed far off in the lonely pine wood, and then he plunged after +her and caught her dress. Superhuman strength seemed to come to him +in that moment of desperate peril, and he managed to keep, hold of +her with one hand, and with the other cling to the broken edge of +ice. It seemed hours before the ring of skates and the sound of +voices announced help at hand, and his numbed fingers relaxed their +hold of the ice just as Robert Keane and his brother's strong arms +bent down to rescue them. He still had hold of Miss Goldthwaite, and +two minutes sufficed to extricate them both. They were unconscious, +and Carrie's sweet face was so deathly white that a mighty fear took +hold of all present. Alice Keane knelt down and laid her hand to her +heart. "Thank God," she uttered tremulously, and it was fervently +re-echoed by every lip. They were borne to the Red House with great +speed, and restoratives being applied, both rallied in a very short +time. Miss Goldthwaite's first question was for Tom, as his had been +for her; and she whispered to them faintly that he had saved her life +at the risk of his own. When Tom looked round, after a while, it was +to find the judge and Mr. George Keane standing by his bed. + +<p>"God bless you, my lad," said the old man huskily. "You have saved +our pretty flower. All Pendlepoint will thank you for this." + +<p>And Mr. George bent over him, his honest gray eyes dim with tears. "I +owe my wife's life to you, Tom, my boy. As long as I live I shall +never forget this." + +<p>A message was despatched to Thankful Rest reporting the accident, and +saying the children would remain till next day, at least, at the Red +House. Mr. Goldthwaite also remained. His words of thanks to Tom were +few: he was too deeply moved to speak, but Tom was quick to +understand. Next morning Miss Goldthwaite was able to appear at the +breakfast table, looking a little paler than usual, but apparently +not much the worse of her ducking. Dr. Gair forbade Tom to get up +till noon, so Carrie herself took up his breakfast-tray. He looked +surprised and greatly relieved to see her, and tried to make light of +what he had done. + +<p>"It is nothing," he said. "I would gladly do fifty times more for +you." + +<p>"We are bound more closely together now," she said. "I owe my life to +you." And bending over him she kissed him, and slipped away, leaving +him very happy indeed. + +<p>In the evening he came down to the drawing-room, where he was treated +as a hero. Everybody made so much of him that he began to feel +uncomfortable, and took refuge at last with Mr. Robert Keane, who +good-naturedly showed him the sketch-book he had filled in Europe, +and explained everything to him, as if he found pleasure in it. And +he did find pleasure, for Tom was an enthusiastic listener. + +<p>No inquiry had come from Thankful Rest, which had astonished Mrs. +Keane very much. She thought they would be sure to feel anxious about +Tom's recovery. She did not know Joshua Strong and his sister. The +following morning Dr. Gair said Tom might go home as soon as he +liked; so Miss Alice drove him and Lucy to Thankful Rest in the +course of the forenoon. Miss Hepsy was plucking chickens for the +market, and tossed up her head when her nephew and niece appeared +before her. + +<p>"I wonder you'd come back at all after livin' so long among gentle +folk. It'll be a long time, I reckon, afore ye get the chance to jump +through the ice after Miss Goldthwaite or any other miss.—Here, +Lucy, get off yer hat, and lend a hand wi' them chickens.—You'll +find plenty wood in the shed, boy, waitin' to be chopped, if yer +uncle hain't anything else for ye to do. Off ye go." + +<p>The contrast between the happy circle they had left and their own +home was so painful that Lucy's tears fell fast as she went to do her +aunt's bidding. And Tom departed to the wood-shed with a very +downcast and rebellious heart.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="11">XI.</a><br> +<br> +HOPES FULFILLED.</center> +<br> +<p>On the afternoon of the following day Mr. Goldthwaite came to +Thankful Rest, accompanied by Mr. Robert Keane. Lucy opened the door +to them; and seeing a stranger with the parson, her aunt shouted to +her to show them into the sitting-room. It was a chill and gloomy +place, though painfully clean and tidy—utterly destitute of comfort. +Lucy shut the door upon them, and went back to tell her aunt that the +stranger was Mr. Robert Keane. + +<p>"What's their business here, I'd like to know?" she said as she +whisked off her white apron and smoothed her hair beneath her cap. + +<p>Lucy knew, but discreetly held her peace. Miss Hepsy stalked across +the passage and into the sitting-room, her looks asking as plainly as +any words what they wanted. + +<p>"This is Mr. Robert Keane, Miss Strong," said the minister. "He wants +to see you and your brother, I think, on a little business." + +<p>Miss Hepsy elevated her eyebrows, and shook hands with Mr. Keane in +silence. + +<p>"Josh is in the barn. I s'pose I'd better send for him," she said. + +<p>And Mr. Keane answered courteously—"If you please." + +<p>She opened the door and called to Lucy to run to the barn for her +uncle. + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Hepsy," answered Lucy, her sweet, clear tones contrasting +strongly with her aunt's unpleasant voice. + +<p>"Miss Goldthwaite's all right again, eh?" she asked, sitting down +near the door. + +<p>"I am thankful to say my sister is none the worse of her adventure," +answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "But for Tom's bravery the consequences +might have been more serious." + +<p>"H'm, I told him it would be a precious long time afore he got on the +ice again to be laid up, botherin' strange folks, an' I guess I'll +keep my word." + +<p>"You must not be so hard on him, Miss Strong," said the minister. "He +is a very fine lad, and tries very hard to please you, I know." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy remained silent. + +<p>"What a pretty place you have, Miss Strong," said Mr. Keane's +pleasant, well-modulated voice. "The Peak shows splendidly from this +window." + +<p>"The place aren't no great thing, sir," said Miss Hepsy.—"Here's +Josh." She opened the door, and Uncle Josh appeared on the threshold +in his working garb, grimy and dust-stained, as he had come from +repairing the mill. He pulled his hair to the minister, and bowed +awkwardly to Mr. Keane. + +<p>"Sit down, Josh," said Miss Hepsy, but Josh preferred to stand. There +was just a moment's constrained silence. + +<p>"I have called to see you, Mr. Strong," said Robert Keane, plunging +into the subject without further delay, "about your nephew Tom. He is +very anxious to become a painter, I find. Would you have any +objections to me putting him in the way of life to which his desire +and talent point him?" + +<p>"Has the ungrateful little brat been carrying his grumbling among you +folks?" said Miss Hepsy wrathfully. + +<p>"Be quiet, Hepsy," said Joshua Strong very imperatively. + +<p>"I don't quite understand you, sir," he said to Mr. Keane. "I can't +afford to send the boy anywhere to learn anything, if ye mean that. +He'll never do no good on a farm, for sartin; but he kin work for his +livin' here, an' that's all I kin do for 'im." + +<p>"I am a painter myself," said Mr. Keane, guessing they were unaware +of the fact, and now wishing to state his intentions as briefly and +plainly as possible; "and from what I have seen of your nephew I +believe his talent for art to be very great indeed. What I mean is +this: give him up to me; I will take him back to Philadelphia, and +take entire care of his training. It will not cost you a farthing, +Mr. Strong. Do you understand?" + +<p>"We're poor folks, but we don't take charity even for Hetty's +children," said Miss Hepsy pointedly. "We've never been offered it +afore." + +<p>Mr. Keane might have waxed angry at the impertinent remark. He was +only inwardly amused. "It is not charity, Miss Strong," he said +good-humouredly. "I expect Tom will be able to repay anything he may +cost me. I hope you will not stand in the lad's way. He is a born +artist, and will never do good in any other sphere.—Come, Mr. +Strong, say yes, and let us shake hands over the bargain." + +<p>It was proof of the rare delicacy of Robert Keane's nature that he +put the matter in the light of a favour to himself. Mr. Goldthwaite +admired and honoured his friend at that moment more than he had ever +done before. + +<p>Aunt Hepsy preserved a rigid and unbending silence. + +<p>Uncle Josh stood twirling his thumbs reflectively. It was to cost him +nothing, not a farthing; and he would be rid of the bother the +hot-headed youngster was to him. But for his sister he would have +granted a ready assent. + +<p>"Wal, Hepsy?" he said in an inquiring tone. + +<p>"You're the master, Josh, I reckon. Do as ye please. It's all one to +me;" and to their amazement she flounced out of the room and banged +the door behind her. + +<p>"I'm much obleeged to you, Mr. Keane," said Josh, finding his tongue +in a marvellously short time. "I've no objections. As I said afore, +he's an idle, peart young 'un; no good at farm work. I hope yell be +able to make a better job o' him than I've done." + +<p>"I am not afraid," said Mr. Robert Keane. "And I am obliged to you +for granting my request. Can I see Tom?" + +<p>"I reckon you may," said Uncle Josh slowly. "Wal, I'll be off to that +plaguy mill. Good-day to you.—My respects to Miss Goldthwaite, +parson." Once more Uncle Josh pulled his forelock, and shambled out +of the room. + +<p>"It doesn't cause them much concern anyway," said Mr. Keane when the +door closed. "They are a bright pair; I should be afraid of that +woman myself. How that mite of a girl stands it I don't know." + +<p>Before Mr. Goldthwaite had time to answer, the door opened, and a +very eager, excited-looking boy appeared on the threshold. + +<p>"Well, Tom, my boy," said Mr. Keane, holding out his hand, "the +bargain's sealed. You belong to me now." + +<p>"Has Uncle Josh—has Aunt Hepsy said I might?" he said breathlessly. +"Oh, it is too good to be true!" + +<p>"True enough," said Mr. Keane, laughing at the lad's manner.—"Please +assure him of it, Mr. Goldthwaite." + +<p>Mr. Goldthwaite laid his hand on the lad's shoulder, and bent his +grave eyes on his beaming face. "I congratulate you," he said +heartily. "And I hope that by-and-by all Pendlepoint will be proud of +the name of Tom Hurst." + +<p>Tom drew his hand across his eyes. "I can't help it, sir," he said +apologetically. "But if you knew how much I've wished for this and +dreamed of it.—Oh, I feel I can never be grateful enough to you, Mr. +Keane!" + +<p>"Nonsense," said Mr. Keane. "Well, we must be going. Show us the way +out, will you, Tom? Your aunt has deserted us. I don't leave for a +fortnight yet. I shall see you again in a day or two." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy, however, had not altogether forgotten the duties of +hospitality, and now reappeared and asked them to stay to tea. Her +face had cleared a little, and she seemed to regret her previous +rudeness. Her invitation, however, was courteously declined. + +<p>"You're here, I see, Tom," she said severely. "Well, I hope you're +properly grateful to Mr. Keane for doing so much for you. An' I hope +ye'll mend yer ways, an' be a better boy than ye've been." + +<p>"I am very grateful, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom very quietly. "And I will +try to be what you say." + +<p>Something in his face and eyes touched even Aunt Hepsy, and it came +upon her very suddenly to wonder if she had not treated him a little +unjustly. "He's a biddable cretur, too," she said to Mr. Keane. "An' +p'raps he'll take more kindly to your kind o' life than ours. I don't +think much o' them useless ways o' livin' myself, but there's +differences." + +<p>"Some day perhaps, Miss Strong, when Tom comes back a great man," +laughed Mr. Keane, as he shook hands with her and Tom, "you'll admit +you've changed your mind. If you do I'll come along and have a good +laugh at you." + +<p>A smile actually appeared on Miss Hepsy's face. "He's a real +pleasant-spoken gentleman, Mr. Robert Keane," said Aunt Hepsy, as she +shut the door.—"Well, Tom, I hope ye'll get yer fill o' paintin' +now." + +<p>Tom's eyes beamed, but he made no verbal reply. Lucy followed him to +the door as he passed out to the barn again. + +<p>"O Tom, I am so glad," she whispered joyfully; and Tom answered by +tossing his cap in the air and trying to bound up after it. + +<p>"Glad? I don't know whether I'm on my head or my heels, Lucy," he +said. "It's the happiest day of my life." + +<p>Lucy kept the smile upon her face, not wishing to damp his joy, but +her heart was very sore. For what did Tom's departure mean for her? +It meant parting from all she had on earth; it meant a life of utter +loneliness and lovelessness, save for the dear outside friends she +could see so seldom. It was Lucy's nature ever to unselfishly bury +her own troubles and try to join in the happiness of others. + +<p>"A fortnight only," she said to herself as she went back to her work. +"What will become of me?" + +<p>The days sped fleetly for her, but slowly for Tom, who was eager to +be gone. Mr. Robert Keane paid frequent visits to Thankful Rest, and +all arrangements were satisfactorily made. Lucy went about, saying +little, and preserving her sweet serenity to the last. She busied +herself with Tom's small wardrobe, adding a touch here and there to +make it complete; and wept bitter tears over her work, as many +another sister has done before and since. It was not till the last +night that a thought of her came to cloud Tom's sky. They were +sitting together at the stove in the fading twilight, Lucy's face +very grave and sad. + +<p>"I say Lucy, though," Tom said, "how awfully lonely it will be for +you when I'm gone. Why, whatever will you <i><b>do</b></i>?" + +<p>"Think of you, and look for your letters," she said, her lips +quivering. "You will not forget me altogether, Tom?" + +<p>A pang of remorse shot through Tom's heart. He came to her side and +threw one arm round her, remembering how his mother's last charge had +been to take care of Lucy, and how poorly he had done it after all. +Lucy had taken care of him instead. + +<p>"Lucy, I'm a perfectly horrid boy," he said in a queer, quick way. +"Don't you hate me?" + +<p>"Hate you? O Tom, I've nobody but you." + +<p>Her sunny head drooped a moment against his arm, and her tears fell +without restraint. "I didn't mean to, Tom," she said at last, looking +up with a faint smile, "but I couldn't help it. I feel dreadful to +think of you going away." + +<p>"When I'm a man, Lucy," he said manfully, "what a perfectly stunning +little home you and I shall have together. It won't be so long—why, +I'm thirteen." + +<p>"Only about ten or twelve years," said Lucy, able to laugh now. "I +shall be gray-haired long before that time." + +<p>"You! why, you'll be the same as you are at fifty. You are like +mamma; she never grew any older-looking. You must write often, mind, +Lucy, and tell me all about everything and everybody." + +<p>Lucy promised, and, feeling very sad again, rose to light the lamp in +case she should break down. Aunt Hepsy was wonderfully kind that +night—she could be kind sometimes if she liked—and, altogether, the +evening passed pleasantly. Tom went to bed early, as they were to +start by the morning train. Lucy followed almost immediately. About +half-an-hour afterwards Aunt Hepsy went upstairs to put a forgotten +article into Tom's trunk, and was arrested by sounds in Lucy's room. +The door was a little ajar, and Aunt Hepsy peered in. Lucy was +undressed and sitting at the window, her arms on the dressing-table, +and her whole frame shaking with sobs. Once or twice Aunt Hepsy heard +the word "Mamma." The passion of grief and longing in the girl's +voice made something come into Aunt Hepsy's throat, and she slipped +noiselessly downstairs. + +<p>"I don't feel easy in my mind, Josh," she said when she re-entered +the kitchen. "I'm feared we've been rayther hard on Hetty's children. +She never did us any harm." + +<p>"Did I say she did, Hepsy?" asked Uncle Josh, serenely puffing away +at his pipe. "You was allus the worst at her and at the children. Ye +put upon that Lucy in a perfectly awful way." + +<p>"Shut up," said Miss Hepsy in a tone which admitted of no further +remark, and the subject dropped. + +<p>There was a great bustle in the morning, and before Lucy had time to +think about anything Tom had kissed her for the last time, and the +waggon drove away. He waved his handkerchief to her till they were +out of sight; and then she went back to the house sad and pale and +cheerless. + +<p>"I guess you needn't fly round much to-day, Lucy," said Aunt Hepsy +with unusual thoughtfulness. "Ye don't look very spry, and feel down +a bit. Never mind, he ain't away for ever." + +<p>"Thank you, Aunt Hepsy," said Lucy gently. "I'd rather work, if you +please. It takes up my mind better. Let me wash these dishes." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy surmised the tears were kept for the loneliness of her own +chamber. She was right. Only to her mother's God did Lucy Hurst pour +out all her grief, and from Him sought the help and comfort none can +give so well as He.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="12">XII.</a><br> +<br> +WEARY DAYS.</center> +<br> +<p>The unusual softening of heart and manner visible in Aunt Hepsy at +the time of Tom's departure disappeared before the lapse of many +days. You see, she had gone on in the old, sour, cross-grained way so +long, she felt most at home in it. She did not <i><b>feel</b></i> unkindly +towards gentle, patient Lucy; but her manner was so ungracious, and +her words so sharp, you will not wonder that Lucy could not read +beneath the surface. She was very quiet, very sober, and very +listless; striving, too, to do her duties as well as aforetime, but +lacking physical strength. Tom's letters, frequent and full of hope +and happiness, were the chief solace of the girl's lonely life. Mr. +and Miss Goldthwaite came sometimes yet to Thankful Rest; but these +were family visits, and Lucy had few opportunities of quiet talk with +her friends. Many invitations had come from the Red House, but to +each and all Aunt Hepsy returned a peremptory refusal. + +<p>"I'm not going to have her learn to fly round for ever at folks' +houses. She has plenty to do at home, and she'll do it, you take my +word for it. Tell Judge Keane's folks I'm mighty obliged to them, but +Lucy can't come. Let that be an end of it." So she said to Miss +Goldthwaite one day; and she carried the message, slightly modified, +to Mrs. Keane. So the days and weeks slipped away, till Winter had to +hide his diminished head before the harbingers of Spring. In the +closing days of March the ice broke up on the river, and all nature +seemed to spring to life again. Green blades and tiny blossoms began +to peep above ground, and the birds sang their songs of gladness on +the budding boughs. It was a busy time at Thankful Rest, both indoors +and out. In the first week of April began that awful revolution, Miss +Hepsy Strong's spring-cleaning. It was her boast that she could +accomplish in one week what other housewives could accomplish only in +three. For every half-idle hour Lucy had enjoyed during the winter +she had to atone now; for Aunt Hepsy kept her sweeping, and scouring, +and dusting, and trotting upstairs and down, till the girl's strength +almost failed her. She did not complain, however, and Aunt Hepsy was +too much absorbed to see that her powers were overtaxed. The cleaning +was triumphantly concluded on Saturday night, and Lucy crept away +early to bed, but was unable to sleep from fatigue. She came +downstairs next morning so wan and white that Aunt Hepsy feared she +was going to turn sick on her hands. But Lucy said she was well +enough, and would go to church as usual. Thinking she looked really +ill, Miss Goldthwaite came round to the porch after the service. + +<p>"Lucy, what is it, child? your face is quite white. Do you feel well +enough?" + +<p>Lucy smiled a little, and slipping her hand through Miss +Goldthwaite's arm, walked with her down the path. + +<p>"This has been cleaning week," she said in explanation, "and I have +had more to do than usual. I daresay I'll be all right now." + +<p>But Miss Goldthwaite did not feel satisfied, and said so to her +brother at the tea-table that night. + +<p>"I'm going up to Thankful Rest, Frank, to tell Miss Hepsy to be +careful of Lucy. It is time somebody told her; she grows so thin, +and, I notice, eats nothing." + +<p>Mr. Goldthwaite's anxiety exceeded his sister's, if that were +possible, but he said very little. Accordingly, next afternoon Miss +Goldthwaite betook herself to Thankful Rest. Finding the garden gate +locked, she went round by the back, and in the yard encountered Lucy +bending under the weight of two pails of water. She set them down on +beholding Miss Goldthwaite; and Carrie noticed that her hand was +pressed to her side, and that her breath came very fast. + +<p>"You are not fit to carry these, Lucy," said she very gravely. "Is +there nobody but you?" + +<p>"I have been washing some curtains and things to-day, Miss +Goldthwaite, and Aunt Hepsy thinks the water from the spring in the +low meadow better for rinsing them in." + +<p>"Does she?" said Miss Goldthwaite, and her sweet lips closed together +more sternly than Lucy had ever seen them do before. + +<p>Lucy passed into the wash-house with her pails, and Miss Goldthwaite +went into the house without knocking. Miss Hepsy was making +buckwheats, and greeted her visitor pleasantly enough. She sat down +in the window, turned her eyes on Miss Hepsy's face, and said +bluntly,— + +<p>"I'm going to say something which will likely vex you, Miss Hepsy, +but I can't help it. I've been wanting to say it this long time." + +<p>Miss Hepsy did not look surprised, or even curious, she only said +calmly,— + +<p>"It wouldn't be the first time you've vexed me, Miss Goldthwaite, by +a long chalk." + +<p>"It's about Lucy, Miss Hepsy," continued Miss Goldthwaite. "Can't you +see she's hardly fit to do a hand's turn at work? I met her out there +carrying a load she was no more fit to carry than that kitten." + +<p>"Ain't she?" inquired Miss Hepsy quite unmoved. "What else?" + +<p>"There she is; I see her through the door. Look at her, and <i><b>see</b></i> if +she is well. If she doesn't get rest and that speedily, she'll go +into a decline, as sure as I sit here. I had a sister," said Carrie +with a half sob, "who died of decline, and she looked exactly as Lucy +does." + +<p>Miss Hepsy walked from the dresser to the stove and back again before +she spoke. "When did you find out, Miss Goldthwaite, that Hepsy +Strong could not mind her own affairs and her own folks?" + +<p>It was said in Miss Hepsy's most disagreeable manner, which was very +disagreeable indeed; but Miss Goldthwaite did not intend to be +disconcerted so soon. + +<p>"You have a kind heart, I know, Miss Hepsy, though you show it so +seldom. You must know Lucy's value by this time, and if you haven't +learned to love her, I don't know what you are made of. Be gentle +with her, Miss Hepsy; she is very young—and she has no mother." + +<p>Miss Hepsy's temper was up, and she heard the gentle pleading +unmoved. + +<p>"Ye've meddled a good deal wi' me, Miss Goldthwaite," she said +slowly, "and I've never told ye to mind yer own business before, but +I tell ye now. An' though ye are the parson's sister, ye say things I +can't stand. Ye'd better be goin'; an' ye needn't come to Thankful +Rest again till ye can let me an' my concerns alone." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite rose at once, not angry, only grieved and +disappointed. + +<p>"Good-bye, then, Miss Hepsy. It was only my love for Lucy made me +speak. I'm sorry I've offended you. She is a dear, good girl. Some +day, perhaps, you will be sorry you did not listen to my words," she +said, and went away. + +<p>Not many words, good or bad, did Aunt Hepsy speak in the house that +night. Lucy, busy with her mending, wondered what had passed that +afternoon that Miss Goldthwaite's stay had been so brief. Aunt +Hepsy's eyes rested keenly on Lucy's pale, sweet face more than once, +and she was forced to admit that it was paler and thinner and more +worn-looking than it need be. But she hardened her heart, and refused +to obey its more kindly promptings. A few more days went by. Lucy +grew weaker, and flagged in her work; and Aunt Hepsy watched her, and +<i><b>would not</b></i> be the first to take needful steps. On Sunday morning +Lucy did not come downstairs at the usual time, and even the +clattering of breakfast dishes failed to bring her. At length Aunt +Hepsy went upstairs. Lucy was still in bed. + +<p>"Are you sick, child?" said Aunt Hepsy in a strange quick voice. + +Lucy answered very feebly,—"I'm afraid I'm goin' to be, Aunt Hepsy. +I tried to get up, but I couldn't; and I haven't slept any all +night." + +<p>"Where do you feel ill?" + +<p>"All over," said the girl wearily. "I've felt so for a long time, but +I tried to go about. Are you angry because I'm going to be sick, Aunt +Hepsy? It'll be a bother to you; but perhaps I'm going to mamma." + +<p>"Do you want to kill me outright, Lucy?" said her aunt; and even in +her weakness Lucy opened her eyes wide in surprise. "If you speak +about goin' to yer ma again," she said, "ye will kill me. Ye've got +to lie there an' get better as fast as you like. I'll send for Dr. +Gair, an' nurse ye night and day." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy could have said a great deal more, but a something in her +throat prevented her. She went downstairs immediately, and despatched +the boy for Dr. Gair. During his absence, she endeavoured to induce +Lucy to take some breakfast, but in vain. + +<p>"I'm real sick, Aunt Hepsy," she said. "Just let me lie still. I +don't want anything but just to be quiet." + +<p>Within the hour Dr. Gair came to Thankful Rest, for Miss Hepsy's +message had been urgent. He was an old man, blunt-mannered, but truly +tenderhearted, and a great favourite in the township. He had not been +once at Thankful Rest since Deacon Strong's death, for neither the +brother nor sister had ever had a day's illness in their lives. He +made his examination of Lucy in a few minutes, and Miss Hepsy watched +with a sinking heart how very grave his face was when he turned to +her. He had few questions to ask, and these Lucy answered as simply +as she could. + +<p>"Am I going to be very sick, Dr. Gair?" said Lucy. + +<p>"Yes, my dear; but please God, we may pull you through," said the old +man softly. "In the meantime I can't do much; I'll look in again in +the afternoon." + +<p>Miss Hepsy followed him in silence down the stairs, and he drew on +his gloves in the lobby without speaking. + +<p>"This is a case of gross neglect, Miss Strong," he said at length. +"The girl's delicate frame is thoroughly exhausted by over-fatigue +and want of attention." + +<p>"Tell me something I don't know, Dr. Gair," said she sharply. + +<p>"And if she recovers, of which I am more than doubtful," he continued +sternly, "it is to be hoped you will turn over a new leaf in your +treatment of her. I am a plain man, Miss Strong, not given to gilding +a bitter pill. If your niece dies, you may take home the blame to +yourself. Good morning." + +<p>"I know all that, my good man, better than you can tell me," said +Aunt Hepsy grimly. "You do your best to bring her round, an' I won't +forget it. I've been a wicked woman, Dr. Gair, an' I s'pose the +Lord's goin' to punish me now; an' he couldn't have chosen a surer +way than by sending sickness to Lucy. Good morning." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy shut the door, and went into the kitchen. There Joshua sat +anxiously awaiting the doctor's verdict. + +<p>"There ain't much hope, Josh," she said briefly. + +<p>"Ain't there, Hepsy? It's a bad job for the little 'un." + +<p>"An' for more than her, I reckon," returned his sister shortly. "I've +lived one and forty years at Thankful Rest, Josh, an' I never felt as +I do this day. I'd a mighty deal rather be sick myself than see the +child's white face. If she gets round, I'll be a better woman, with +the Lord's help. How He's borne with me so long's a marvel I can't +comprehend. One and forty years, Josh Strong, and Lucy jes' fifteen. +She's done a deal more good in one day o' her life than you or me +ever did in all ours. The Lord forgive us, Josh, an' help us to make +a better use o' what's left. Jes' step down to Pendlepoint, will ye, +an' ask the parson an' his sister up. I guess Lucy'd be pleased to +see 'em. One an' forty years, dear, dear; an' Lucy jes' fifteen." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy went out wiping her eyes, and stole upstairs again to +Lucy.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="13">XIII.</a><br> +<br> +LUCY FINDS THE KEY.</center><br> + +<p>For several days a great shadow lay on Thankful Rest while Lucy +hovered between life and death. Everything human care and skill could +suggest was done, and the issue was in God's hands. Miss Goldthwaite +had come up to Thankful Rest on Sunday, and had stayed, because Lucy +seemed to be happier when she was by. Callers were innumerable, and a +messenger came from the Red House every morning asking a bulletin. +What Aunt Hepsy suffered during those days I do not suppose anybody +ever guessed. It was her way to hide her feelings always, but she +would sit or stand looking at the sick girl with eyes which ought to +have brought her back to health. Uncle Josh was in and out fifty +times a day, and things outside were allowed to manage themselves; +all interest centred in the little attic chamber and its suffering +occupant. She lay in a kind of stupor most part of the day, only +moaning at times with the pain Dr. Gair was powerless to relieve. She +grew perceptibly weaker, and they feared to leave her a moment, lest +she should slip away while they were gone. So the days went by till +Sunday came round again. Dr. Gair came early that morning, and +looked, if possible, graver than usual. + +<p>"If she lives till evening," he said to the anxious watchers, "she +will recover, but I cannot give you much hope. Administer this +medicine every two hours; it is all I can do. I will be back before +night." + +<p>In after years Aunt Hepsy was wont to say that Sunday was the longest +day she had ever spent in her life. I think others felt so too. +Slowly the hours went round. Even into the darkened room the spring +sunshine would peep, and the twittering of the birds in the orchard +broke the oppressive stillness. At four o'clock the doctor came +again. Save for the almost imperceptible breathing, Lucy lay so pale +and still that they almost thought her dead. At sunset she moved +uneasily, and with a great sigh lifted her heavy lids and looked +round the room. A sob burst from Aunt Hepsy's lips, and Carrie +Goldthwaite's tears fell fast, for Dr. Gair's face said she was +saved. Her lips moved, and he bent down to catch the faintly murmured +words,— + +<p>"Have I been sick a long time? I am going to get well now." + +<p>The doctor nodded and smiled. "God has been very good to you—to us +all—my child," he said. "He has heard the prayers of those who love +you." + +<p>Carrie came to the bedside then, and bending over her, kissed her +once with streaming eyes. Aunt Hepsy moved to the window and drew up +the blind, and the red glow of the setting sun crept into the room, +and lay bright and beautiful on Lucy's face. + +<p>"I am glad to see the sun again," said Lucy wearily. "I seem to have +been sick so long. May I go to sleep now, Dr. Gair?" + +<p>"Yes; and sleep a week if you like," he said cheerily.—"Rest and +care now, Miss Strong, is all she needs to bring her round." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy made no reply whatever. She stood still in the window, her +face softened into a strange, thankful tenderness, and her heart +lifting itself up in gratitude to God, and in many an earnest +resolution for the future. She followed Dr. Gair downstairs, as she +had done that day a week before, and as he passed out caught his hand +in a grip of iron. "I'm a woman of few words, Dr. Gair," she said +abruptly, "but I won't forget what you've done for me an' mine." + +<p>"God first, Miss Strong," said the doctor gravely; and then he added +with an odd little smile, "Lucy's lines will be in pleasant places +now, I fancy?" + +<p>"If they ain't, I'll know the reason why," said she grimly. "Good +evening." + +<p>Lucy's sleep that night was calm and refreshing, and when Dr. Gair +came again in the morning he expressed himself pleased with her +condition. Miss Goldthwaite brought up a breakfast tray with a cup of +weak tea and a piece of toast, of which Lucy was able to eat a little +bit. She had fifty questions to ask; but remembering Dr. Gair's +peremptory orders, Carrie placed a finger on her lips and shook her +head. There would be plenty of time to talk by-and-by, for +convalescence would be a tedious business; in the meantime there was +absolute need of perfect rest. Miss Goldthwaite brought her sewing, +and sat down in the window seat, humming a scrap of song, the outcome +of the gladness of her heart. Lucy lay still in a state of dreamy +happiness, listening to the twittering of the birds mingling with +Carrie's song, and watching the gay April sunbeams dancing among her +golden curls. By-and-by Aunt Hepsy came up, and Lucy looked at her +curiously. She seemed to dimly remember that during the days of the +past week a face like Aunt Hepsy's had bent over her in love and +tenderness, and a voice like hers, only infinitely softer and +gentler, had spoken broken words of grief and prayer at her bedside. +Aunt Hepsy, just yet, did not meet Lucy's wondering eyes, nor speak +any words to her at all. She moved softly about the room, putting +things to rights deftly and silently; but Lucy was sure there was +something different about her. + +<p>Immediately after the early dinner, seeing Lucy so much better, Miss +Goldthwaite bethought herself of her neglected household at +Pendlepoint, and said she would go home, promising to come again +to-morrow. Her eyes were full of tears as she bent over to bid Lucy +good-bye, and she whispered tenderly,— + +<p>"My darling, what a load I shall lift from anxious hearts at +Pendlepoint to-night. You don't know how dear you are to us all." + +<p>Lucy smiled a little in a happy way; to her heart evidences of love +were very precious. She was left alone for nearly a couple of hours, +while Aunt Hepsy washed up dishes and set things right downstairs she +fell into a light doze, and when she awoke, it was to find Aunt Hepsy +sitting by her side with her knitting. + +<p>"Have I been sleeping, Aunt Hepsy?" she said. "You don't know how +well I feel. I could almost get up, I think." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy laughed a little tremulous laugh. + +<p>"In about a month or so, I guess, you'll begin to think about getting +up," she said; and again something in Aunt Hepsy's face set Lucy +wondering <i><b>what</b></i> was different about her. There was a short silence, +then Aunt Hepsy laid down her knitting, and took both Lucy's thin +hands in her firm clasp. "Lucy, do you think ye can ever forgive yer +old aunt?" she said suddenly and quickly. "I've been a cross, +hardhearted old fool, an' the Lord's been better to me than I dared +to hope for. He's heard my prayers, Lucy, an' he knows how hard I +mean to try and make up for the past. If ye'll say ye forgive me, and +try to care a little for me, ye'll maybe find Thankful Rest a +pleasanter place than ye think it now." + +<p>"O Aunt Hepsy, don't say any more," pleaded Lucy, her eyes growing +dim. "I'm so glad I've been sick, because you've learned to love me a +little." + +<p>So the barrier was broken down, and in the ensuing days these two +became very dear to each other; and Lucy grew to understand Aunt +Hepsy, and to see how much good there lay beneath her grim exterior. +The door of Aunt Hepsy's heart had long been locked, and like other +unused things, had grown rusty on its hinges. But Lucy had found the +key, and entered triumphantly at last.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="14">XIV.</a><br> +<br> +A GREAT CHANGE.</center> +<br> +<p>You will be wondering what Tom had been about during his sister's +illness; but he was still in ignorance of it, his friends thinking it +best to wait till the crisis was past. It fell to Aunt Hepsy's lot to +send the news, and her letter was such a curiosity in its way that I +cannot do better than set it down just as it was.<br><br> + +<br> +<blockquote> +THANKFUL REST, <i><b>April 18th, 18—</b></i>. +<br><br> +MY DEAR NEPHEW,—I daresay you'll wonder to hear from me, an' will +maybe feel skeered; so, to relieve you, I may as well say at once +that Lucy's been sick, very sick, but she's getting round nicely now, +thank the Lord. She is in bed yet, and I'm writing this beside her. +She sends her love, and says she'll write to-morrow. I guess I'll let +her do it in about a month. I want to ask you to forgive me for being +so hard on you when you lived here. I hope you don't bear your old +aunt any grudge. Lucy, God bless her, won't hear me abuse myself, so +it's a relief to do it to you, though you are a boy. I keep that +picter you drew of me that I slapped you for, an' I'll look at it +when I feel my pesky temper gettin' up. I suppose ye'll be so took up +with your paintin' ye couldn't never think of coming back to Thankful +Rest. It wouldn't be good for you, if you're getting on any way with +Mr. Robert Keane. But you'll come right away in summer, an' see what +a different place Lucy has made of Thankful Rest, an' how precious +she is to your uncle an' me. I guess she's one of the Lord's +messengers, sent to do what all the preachin' in the world couldn't. +I reckon I'll finish up. It has took me an hour to write this, I'm so +slow with the pen. Give my respects to Mr. Robert Keane; and when he +comes to Thankful Rest in summer, maybe he'll get a better welcome +than he got before. So no more at present. From your affectionate +aunt, +<br><br> + + + + + + + +HEPSEY +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>That letter reached Boston Avenue in the evening, when Tom was poring +over a book of instructions for young artists. He was in his own +sanctum, which Mr. Keane had given him when he came—a tiny apartment +next the artist's studio, and commanding from its window the finest +view in Philadelphia. Tom seized the letter from the servant's hand. +He had written twice to Lucy, and was anxiously wondering at her +delay in answering, for Lucy had always been a faithful and punctual +correspondent. + +<p>You would have laughed had you seen the varying expressions on Tom's +face as he read Aunt Hepsy's epistle;—concern at first to hear Lucy +was ill; relief to find her recovering; and, last of all, mute, +dumfoundered amazement at Aunt Hepsy. + +<p>Mr. Keane opened his studio by-and-by and looked out. + +<p>"Well, Tom, news from Lucy at last, my boy?" he asked. + +<p>"No, sir," said Tom soberly, yet with an odd twinkle in his eye; and +then he held out the open letter, saying simply, "Read that, Mr. +Keane." + +<p>Mr. Keane smiled too as he read. "Lucy has conquered, as I thought +she would," he said. "See, Tom, what an influence a meek, gentle, +loving spirit like Lucy's has in the world. You and I with our fiery +tempers sink into nothingness beside her." + +<p>"You, Mr. Keane!" echoed Tom in amazement. "I don't think you have a +temper at all." + +<p>"Haven't I?" The artist's smile grew sad. "There was a boy once who +was expelled from three schools for impertinence and insubordination, +and put his parents to the expense of keeping a tutor for him at +home. That tutor, Tom, was a man of splendid talents, which his +delicate health forbade him to exercise as he desired. His pupil +killed him, Tom; the worry and anxiety lest he should not come up to +the parents' expectation, combined with what he had to bear from the +boy himself, broke his health down, and he died. That boy was <i><b>me</b></i>." + +<p>Tom sat wondering, while Mr. Keane, walking to and fro, continued +slowly—"I went to see him when he was dying, in his poor lodging: he +was very poor, you must understand, but nobody durst offer him +anything, lest he should feel hurt or insulted. As long as I live, +Tom, I shall never forget that night. I saw then clearly how wicked I +had been, and how what I thought manly independence befitting my +station was only the cowardice of a spirit as far beneath his as +earth is beneath heaven. That was a lesson I never forgot; and since +that night I have tried, with God's help, to use the legacy he left +me." + +<p>"What was it?" asked Tom breathlessly. + +<p>Mr. Keane lifted Lucy's Bible from the side-table, and turning over +the pages held it out to Tom, his finger pointing to the place. + +<p>"Tom," said Mr. Keane one morning a few days later, "I believe you +are going to Pendlepoint tomorrow?" + +<p>"What?" Tom nearly bounded off his chair. The longing to go home to +Lucy for a day or two had well-nigh overcome him since Aunt Hepsy's +letter came; but he had tried to stifle it, and had applied himself +with double energy to his studies. + +<p>"If you don't wish to go, of course I have no more to say," began Mr. +Keane; but Tom interrupted him— + +<p>"O sir, you don't mean me to go home for good and all, I hope; have I +disappointed you? I have tried so hard, sir." + +<p>"Stop, stop!" cried Mr. Keane. "Wait till I hint at such a thing. You +have surpassed my expectations, my boy. I thought you would like to +see your sister, but if I am mistaken—" + +<p>"I do want to go, sir; I would give the world almost to see +her—but—" + +<p>"Well?" + +<p>"The expense, sir," Tom ventured to say, encouraged by his kind +friend's manner. "It is a long journey, and I have cost you so much +already." + +<p>"Nonsense; I am a rich man, Tom. But for all that I expect you to pay +me back some day. You and I will have a great reckoning by-and-by." + +<p>There was a moment's silence. + +<p>"How did you know I wanted to go home, Mr. Keane?" said Tom +by-and-by. + +<p>"I have eyes, my boy," was all Mr. Keane answered, saying nothing of +a note he had received from his sister, which ran thus:—</p> + +<br> +<blockquote> +RED HOUSE, <i><b>April 27th</b></i>.<br> +<br> +DEAR ROBERT,—Send Tom to Thankful Rest for a few days. Lucy will +get well twice as fast after she sees him.—Your affectionate sister,<br> +<br> + + + + + + + +ALICE. +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Next morning saw a very happy boy take his place in the train, which +would land him at Pendlepoint in the evening. It was a long, tiresome +journey, especially to an impatient being like Tom. But it came to an +end, as all things pleasant or unpleasant must, and he found himself +at the little old-fashioned depot towards seven o'clock at night. +There was no one to meet him, of course, because no one, not even +Miss Keane, expected him so soon. He ran all the way to the +parsonage, and knocked at the door, only to find Abbie in sole +possession. + +<p>"The parson he be down town, Master Tom," she said, "and Miss Carrie +she be at Thankful Rest. I guess she's there most days till night." + +<p>Tom thanked her and ran off again across the bridge and through the +meadow, not even pausing to look at the cattle, nor to see that Sally +was enjoying an unwonted holiday, and a dainty bite at the tender +young grass, which the mild weather had brought forward very fast. He +paused just a moment outside the orchard fence, and looked at the +house, not a little surprised to feel how glad he was to see it +again, and how dear it was to him after all. Then he pushed open the +gate, went up the path and over the garden fence, and saw Uncle Josh +digging the potato patch. + +<p>"Halloo, Uncle Josh!" he shouted, feeling quite jovial and free +towards him; and Uncle Josh started up and let his spade fall from +his hands. + +<p>"Marcy, younker, whar did ye come from?" was all he could utter. But, +no longer the surly man that he had been, he held out his hand to +him, and looked more than pleased to see him. + +<p>"I came from Philadelphia to see Lucy," answered Tom soberly. "How is +she?" + +<p>"Oh, gettin' along fast; she's in the far parlour these two days, +able to sit up till 'most night. I guess she won't be sot up to see +ye—oh no, not at all." + +<p>There was a twinkle in Uncle Josh's eye, a thing Tom had never seen +before. Surely there <i><b>was</b></i> a change at Thankful Rest. + +<p>"I'll go in now," said Tom; and he went away round to the back door. +Keziah was making something at the stove, and nearly upset the +saucepan in her amazement. Tom nodded to her, and went off to the far +parlour. The door was ajar and he peeped in. Was <i><b>that</b></i> the far +parlour? No, it could not be. There were white curtains at the +window, flowers everywhere. A sparkling fire in the high brass grate; +a low, restful rocking-chair at the hearth; and a couch he did not +remember to have seen before, but it looked as if it had been made +for ease and comfort. And on the couch lay Lucy, the fire-light +dancing on her face: it was pale and thin, but happy-looking, he +could see. + +<p>She heard a noise at the door, and said, without looking round, "Are +you dressed already, Miss Carrie? How fast you have been!" + +<p>There was no answer; then Lucy looked round and gave a great cry. And +Tom ran in and knelt down beside her, and gathered her shawl and all +in his arms, and they held each other very close; and for a long time +there was nothing said. + +<p>"How did you come?" asked Lucy at last, her face radiant with joy. + +<p>"By train. Mr. Keane sent me. Are you glad, Lucy?" + +<p>"Glad?" Lucy had no words wherewith to express her gladness, but it +was evident enough. + +<p>Just then footsteps sounded on the stair, and Miss Hepsy came into +the room followed by Miss Goldthwaite. + +<p>She looked scared a moment, but when Tom rose and came to her +saying—"I came to see Lucy, Aunt Hepsy, and to thank you for being +so good to her,"—she just sat down in the rocking-chair and sobbed +like a child. Here was a state of matters! and Tom did not know just +then whether to laugh or to cry. But Miss Carrie diverted him by +asking questions about his journey, and by-and-by Miss Hepsy rose and +said she'd get supper. + +<p>"An' ye'll jist bide, Miss Goldthwaite, an' we'll all have it here +with Lucy.—Dear, dear, this is a great night. Who'd 'a thought to +see you, Tom, all the way from Philadelphia?" + +<p>"You look pretty comfortable, Lucy," said Tom jokingly. "I wouldn't +mind being sick myself, to be codled up like this." + +<p>Lucy smiled, but her eyes grew dim. + +<p>"I can't speak about it, Tom," she said. "Aunt Hepsy is too good to +me; she reminds me of mamma sometimes.—Isn't she kind, Miss Carrie?" + +<p>Miss Carrie nodded, her sweet face full of satisfaction. Evidently +the new state of affairs was after her own heart. + +<p>By-and-by the table was set, and they all gathered round it, and Tom +had a real Thankful Rest supper. + +<p>There was not much said; but Tom saw how Aunt Hepsy watched and +tended Lucy; and how Uncle Josh, too, had grown gentle even in his +roughness; and, above all, he saw how beautiful was Lucy's face in +its perfect happiness and content. + +<p>"You don't eat, Lucy, my pet," said Aunt Hepsy anxiously. + +<p>"I can't, auntie; I am so happy, it's no use;" and Lucy covered her +face with her hands and fairly sobbed. + +<p>Then Tom rose to his feet, and gave vent to a cheer which would have +done honour to an Englishman. + +<p>"Bless me, boy, ye'll bring the house down," said Aunt Hepsy, but not +looking at all displeased. + +<p>"Can't help it, Aunt Hepsy; it's surplus steam; must let it off, or I +can't answer for the consequences." And he cheered again and again, +till Keziah ran to see what was the matter. She went back to the +kitchen saying to herself, "When I see an' hear that here, I feel +like believin', Deacon Frost, that the world's comin' to an end." + +<p>Not the world exactly, Keziah, only the old, hard, miserable days +have come to an end for ever, and a new era has begun at Thankful +Rest.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="15">XV.</a><br> +<br> +THE WEDDING.</center> +<br> +<p>Tom stayed a week at home—<i><b>home</b></i> it truly was to both Lucy and him +now, and he left it with regret. But the work he loved and had chosen +called him away, and knowing Lucy would be tenderly cared for, he +went back to Philadelphia, carrying a much lighter heart than when he +first entered it three months before. The summer would be a busy one +for him; and as the months sped he proved the truth of Mr. Keane's +words, that it was only through much hard, plodding, uninteresting +work, that he could ever hope to place his foot on the first step of +the ladder. But he had a kind hand and an encouraging word always +ready to help him on, and was happy in his apprenticeship. + +<p>Thanks to Aunt Hepsy's careful nursing, midsummer saw Lucy fully +restored to health again. She had an easy and happy time of it now. +There was no more trotting up and down, no more bending under heavy +loads—it was only very light work her hands were permitted to do; +and she would laugh and tell Aunt Hepsy she was making a fine lady of +her altogether. + +<p>"You do what you're bid, an' say nothin', my dear," was always Aunt +Hepsy's answer, with oh, what a difference in look and tone. + +<p>There was no restriction to her visiting now. She would spend days at +the Red House, in company with her friend Minnie; who, in her turn, +would come to Thankful Rest, and keep the house alive with her gay +nonsense. + +<p>So the summer sped, harvest was ingathered again, and one sunny +evening in September, Miss Goldthwaite came up to Thankful Rest on +special business. Rumours were afloat that the parsonage was soon to +lose Miss Carrie, but they had not yet been confirmed. + +<p>Miss Hepsy was in the garden, and gave the parson's sister a warm +greeting. + +<p>"Is Lucy indoors?" Carrie asked, after they had chatted a moment. + +<p>"Yes; I heard her singing a minute ago," answered Aunt Hepsy. "Jes' +go in and look for her, Miss Goldthwaite; I'll be in by-and-by." + +<p>"Perhaps I had better talk to you first, Miss Hepsy, as you have the +power to grant or refuse what I want." + +<p>"I don't often say no to ye, Miss Carrie," said Aunt Hepsy with a dry +smile. + +<p>"I know it; but this is a very serious request—in fact, I am afraid +to make it." + +<p>"Out with it. I can but say no any way." + +<p>Miss Goldthwaite leaned on her parasol, and looked at Aunt Hepsy, +smiling, and blushing slightly too. + +<p>"Perhaps you know I'm going to be married soon, Miss Hepsy?" + +<p>"I hear the folks sayin' so; but I paid no heed, guessin' ye'd come +an' tell us afore it took place. Is't to be immediately?" + +<p>"At Christmas. But I'm going home to New York in three weeks." + +<p>"To get ready," nodded Miss Hepsy. "Well?" + +<p>"Can't you guess what I want, Miss Hepsy?" + +<p>Miss Hepsy stood a moment in wondering silence, and then said very +slowly, "I guess it'll be Lucy ye want." + +<p>"Yes; I want her to go home with me, and remain till after my +marriage. Frank will bring her back when he comes. Now it's out. +Order me off the premises now, Miss Hepsy; I know you feel like it." + +<p>"This is September," said Aunt Hepsy very slowly; "October, November, +December, January—perhaps nigh half a year. Well, Miss Goldthwaite, +excuse me sayin' it, but the Lord'll need to help your husband; he'll +not be able to help hisself, that's certain. Ye'd move the Peak, as +I've said afore." + +<p>"Am I to take that as your permission, Miss Hepsy?" + +<p>"Hev ye spoke to Lucy?" + +<p>"Not yet; you had to be asked first. If you had said no, I should not +have thought of mentioning it to Lucy at all." + +<p>"If Lucy wants to go, I'm willin'; but it'll be a queer house without +her." + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, and bent forward and kissed +her. "I think you will not regret it. It will soon pass, and will do +Lucy a world of good. She is growing up, you know, and wants to see +something." + +<p>"P'raps you're right," said Aunt Hepsy. "Yes, go in now, Miss +Goldthwaite; I want to think a bit." + +<p>Carrie went in, and kneeling down on the hearth beside Lucy, said +abruptly, "I am going to be married at Christmas, Lucy, and want you +for my bridesmaid. I am going home to New York in three weeks, and +your aunt says I may take you with me. Will you come?" + +<p>Lucy's face flushed with pleasure, but she said quickly,— + +<p>"You are very kind, Carrie. I should like it dearly. But would it be +right to leave my uncle and aunt?" + +<p>"If they say you may, Lucy. I have thought it well over before I +mentioned it at all; and I'm sure you would enjoy yourself." + +<p>"I know that. May I have a day or two to think of it, Carrie?" + +<p>"As many as you like, so that you only come, dear. Now, I'm going +off; I haven't a minute to spare.—By-the-by, Alice and Minnie will +likely be at papa's, too, all December, so that is another +inducement. Goodbye." She stooped and kissed Lucy, and ran out of the +house. + +<p>Pretty soon Aunt Hepsy came in, looking very grave and sad. She took +up her knitting, and for a bit neither spoke. + +<p>"Three months is a long time, Aunt Hepsy," said Lucy at last. + +<p>Aunt Hepsy never spoke. + +<p>Then Lucy rose and came to her, and laid her arm about her neck. "You +don't want me to go, auntie, I know you don't." + +<p>"Go away; I didn't say I didn't," said Aunt Hepsy in her gruffest +tones. + +<p>"Auntie, if you will only tell me you would rather I stayed, I won't +go." + +<p>"Don't ask questions, child. I guess I'd never live through them +three months. As well go away for ever almost." + +<p>"Then I won't go," said Lucy stoutly. "I'd dearly like to be at +Carrie's wedding; but I can't leave you, auntie, for so long." And +from that decision no persuasion could induce Lucy to depart—she was +firm as a rock; but Aunt Hepsy made a little private arrangement of +her own, which was to be kept a profound secret from the bride-elect. + +<p>Judge Keane travelled to New York the day before Christmas with a +young lady under his care; and when the pair were ushered into Dr. +Goldthwaite's drawing-room, the bride-elect saw, peeping out from +among the rich furs which Aunt Hepsy had provided for her darling, a +face she loved very dearly, and which could belong to nobody in the +world but Lucy Hurst. + +<p>They were all together in the long drawing-room, waiting only the +coming of the bride, ere the solemn ceremony could be performed. +There was a large company, for the Goldthwaites had a wide circle of +acquaintance. Conspicuous among them were the friends we know +best—all the Keanes (save the invalid mother, who thought and prayed +for them at home), and Tom and Lucy Hurst. It had been a surprise to +Lucy to find him at New York. She had not expected to see him again +till the summer-time. She looked very fair and sweet in her delicate +white dress, but was utterly unconscious of the admiration she was +creating; and of the close observation of a pair of dark earnest +eyes, which had been the first gleam of comfort to her when her +mother died. + +<p>By-and-by, old white-haired Dr. Goldthwaite came in with Carrie on +his arm, and they took their places silently; and in a very few +minutes Frank had uttered the irrevocable words, and the wedding was +over. Then Mr. and Mrs. George Keane received abundant +congratulations, and they adjourned to partake of breakfast. In the +hall stood a quantity of baggage labelled "Mrs. Keane," which seemed +very formidable, but was not much after all, considering the +travellers were going to Europe. Yes; the young pair were to have a +six months' tour before settling down at Pendlepoint, and some felt +as if Carrie were going away for ever. She looked very grave and sad; +and when she came down ready to go, broke down utterly bidding her +mother good-bye. + +<p>"Now then, this will never do," said Judge Keane, with that comical +smile of his. "George, get your wife into the carriage, or we shall +have her rueing she ever promised to follow you." + +<p>Carrie smiled through her tears, and shook her finger at the judge. +Then, as she turned to go, a light touch fell upon her arm, and a low +voice whispered tremulously,— + +<p>"May God bless you all your life, Mrs. Keane." + +<p>It was Lucy, her great eyes shining with unspeakable love and +tenderness. + +<p>"Never Mrs. Keane to you, Lucy, my pet," she whispered back. "Carrie +always, and always. Write to me." + +<p>Then she was hurried out to the carriage, forgetting in the +excitement of the moment that she possessed no address to give. The +door closed upon them, the coachman sprang to the box, and the next +moment they were gone. They had embarked together on the sea of life, +and the voyage bade fair to be a happy and prosperous one. + +<p>"I don't like weddings," said Judge Keane discontentedly. "They are +miserable, heart-breaking things at the best." + +<p>"Time was when you did not think so, judge," said the doctor, with a +twinkle in his eye.—"Eh, little one?" + +<p>It was Lucy whom the doctor addressed, and she answered timidly, "It +is very sad to give away those we love, as you have done to-day, +sir." + +<p>"Wait till somebody wants to take you away, my lady," laughed the +judge. "There'll be an earthquake at Thankful Rest." + +<p>"I never heard any one speak as you do, Judge Keane," said Lucy, with +a dignity which dumfoundered Tom; and she moved away and sat down by +Mrs. Goldthwaite, and began to talk to her about Carrie. + +<p>"What makes you look so sober, Tom Hurst?" queried Minnie Keane's +voice at his elbow a few minutes later. + +<p>"Shall I tell you, Minnie?" + +<p>"You must," was the calm reply. + +<p>"It seems to me, then," he said very slowly, "that Lucy is growing +up, and I don't like it. Do you?" + +<p>"I don't mind. Everybody grows up and marries, and goes to Europe, +and dies after a bit; that's about what life amounts to—not much, is +it?" + +<p>Tom laughed, he couldn't help it; but after a bit he answered +gravely, "I am afraid to grow up myself, Minnie." + +<p>"Why?" + +<p>"Because a man has so much responsibility, so much to do for God: I +don't think it will be very easy." + +<p>"Oh, I do!" answered Minnie. "Just do all you can, with all your +might; that's what mamma says, and it's the easiest way." + +<p>"So it is," said Tom. "I shan't forget that, Minnie." + +<p>And neither he did.</p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><a name="16">XVI.</a><br> +<br> +FIVE YEARS AFTER.</center> +<br> +<p>Again it was sweet spring-time at Thankful Rest. The garden was gay +with tender leaves and blossoms, and the orchard white with bloom. +There the birds made sweet melody as of yore; and, as of yore, the +sunny river brawled and whispered and played as it hurried through +the meadow to the sea. + +<p>At five o'clock in the afternoon Aunt Hepsy was in the kitchen, busy +as usual; her hands knew no idleness. Two teacups and a plate of cake +stood on the table, the remnants of the early tea she and Lucy had +taken a little while before. Presently a light step sounded in the +lobby, and Lucy came in dressed for walking. Five years make a great +change; for she had grown from a slight, diminutive girl, to a tall, +lithe, graceful young lady, just on the verge of womanhood. + +<p>"Ye look like a picter, by all the world," said Aunt Hepsy, pausing +to admire her; and Lucy's answer was a silvery laugh, so full of +perfect happiness and content, that a silent bird on the window ledge +caught the infection and burst into song. + +<p>"I'm going to the post-office to see if there's a letter from Tom, +Aunt Hepsy," she said; "and then to Dovecot, to see Mrs. George +Keane. I'll be back sure before dark." + +<p>"Ye'd better," said Aunt Hepsy, with something of her ancient +grimness. "The house ain't worth livin' in when ye're out." + +<p>Lucy came close to Aunt Hepsy, and laying her gloved hands on her +shoulders, bent tender, beaming eyes on her face. "It makes me so +thankful, auntie, to think you miss me, and are glad when I come +back. I don't suppose there's a happier girl anywhere than I am." + +<p>"Nor a happier pair than ye make yer uncle an' me," said Aunt Hepsy +softly. "Off ye go, ye waste my time like anything; time was when I'd +make ye fly round considerable if ye'd ventured." + +<p>Lucy laughed, and went her way, turning aside as she went through the +paddock for a pleasant word with Uncle Josh ploughing in the low +meadow. He stopped his team to watch the pretty girlish figure out of +sight. Crossing the bridge she met Ebenezer going with a letter to +Thankful Rest. It was for her, and in Tom's handwriting. There was no +need for her to go down to the town, and she turned in the direction +of the Dovecot, which was the name of the pretty home occupied by +George Keane and his wife. It was midway between the Red House and +the parsonage, and fifteen minutes' leisurely walking brought her to +it. Miss Goldthwaite had been married four years past, and had one +little son, the joy and torment of her life. He was in bed, however, +when Lucy called, so there was a chance of a moment's quiet talk. + +<p>"I have had a letter from Tom to-night, Carrie," she said when the +first greetings were over. "His picture has sold for five hundred +dollars." + +<p>"O Lucy, I am so glad. Such a success for a young artist! How proud +Robert will be of his pupil." + +<p>Lucy's eyes beamed her pride, though she said very little. + +<p>"Frank is here," said Mrs. Keane after a moment. "He is out somewhere +with George; let us find them, and communicate the good news. What +will Aunt Hepsy say?" + +<p>They rose and went out into the sweet spring twilight and found Mr. +Goldthwaite and Mr. George Keane in the garden at the back. There +were warm congratulations from both, and an hour slipped away in +discussing the artist, his work and prospects, till Lucy remembered +her promise to Aunt Hepsy, and said that she must be going. Mr. +Goldthwaite would return too, he said, as it was growing late. His +sister fancied Lucy's company was an inducement to him to leave so +early, but she discreetly held her peace. + +<p>It was almost dark, though the lamp was not lit at Thankful Rest, +when Lucy reached home. + +<p>"You've kept your time," said Aunt Hepsy well pleased. "Did ye come +home alone?" + +<p>"No, Aunt Hepsy," answered Lucy very low, and the semi-darkness hid +her face. "Mr. Goldthwaite was at Dovecot, and walked home with me." + +<p>"Mrs. Keane's folks all well?" asked Aunt Hepsy, suspecting nothing. + +<p>"Yes; and O Aunt Hepsy, I have a letter from Tom: his picture in the +exhibition has sold for five hundred dollars." + +<p>Aunt Hepsy uplifted her hands in mute amazement. + +<p>"Marcy on us," she exclaimed at last. "What a power o' money for a +picter! Is't true, Lucy?" + +<p>"Yes, quite true; and he has got such praise for it," said Lucy +joyfully. "Aren't you proud of him, Aunt Hepsy?" + +<p>"I guess I am," said Aunt Hepsy. "Five hundred dollars! Dear, dear! +What will Josh say to this? Does he say anything about coming home +soon?" + +<p>"I'll read you the letter when the lamp's lighted, auntie," said +Lucy. + +<p>"Well, light it, there's a good child; it's 'most time anyway. I've +been idle a good half-hour." + +<p>But Lucy did not seem in any hurry. She hovered about in an odd, +restless kind of way, and finally came behind Aunt Hepsy's chair, and +folded her hands on her shoulder. + +<p>"What is it, child?" said Aunt Hepsy wonderingly. "Summat you have to +tell me, I reckon. Anything in Tom's letter ye haven't told me?" + +<p>"No, Aunt Hepsy," and Lucy's voice fell very low now. "I want to tell +you—I have promised to be Mr. Goldthwaite's wife." + +<p>"Bless me, Lucy, 'tain't true?" cried Aunt Hepsy, starting up; and +seeing in Lucy's downcast face confirmation of her words, she sank +back to her chair, and for the first and only time in her life Aunt +Hepsy went off into hysterics. + +<p>In the tender gloaming of an August evening Tom and Lucy Hurst stood +together within the porch at Thankful Rest. They had been at +Pendlepoint visiting old friends, and, after walking slowly home, +lingered here talking of old times, and loath to leave the soft +beauty of the summer night. A tall, broad-shouldered, handsome fellow +was Tom Hurst now, towering a head above his sister, who stood very +close to him, her head leaning against his shoulder. + +<p>"Do you remember what a pair of miserable little creatures stood just +here five years ago, Lucy?" he said half laughingly, half earnestly. + +<p>"Yes," said Lucy softly. "What a difference between then and now." + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Tom's eyes watched the stars peeping +out one by one in the opal sky, his heart full of the happiness of +the present and all the hope and promise of the future. + +<p>Presently Aunt Hepsy, ever watchful for Lucy now, called to them to +come in, for the dews were falling. + +<p>"Tom, has not God cast our lines in pleasant places, and given us a +goodly heritage?" said Lucy softly as they turned to obey the +summons. + +<p>"Ay," answered Tom, his voice softening also. "May He help us to be +truly grateful for His goodness all our lives, Lucy."</p> +<br><br> +<hr noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THANKFUL REST***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 12998-h.txt or 12998-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/9/9/12998">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/9/9/12998</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Swan + +Release Date: July 23, 2004 [EBook #12998] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THANKFUL REST *** + + + + +Produced by Roy Brown + + + + +THANKFUL REST. + +A Tale. + +By ANNIE S. SWAN. + +Author of "Aldersyde," "Carlowrie" "Shadowed" &c. &c. + + + + There is no road, though rough and steep, + Without an end at last, + And every rock upon the way + By patience can be passed. + + There are few human hearts too hard + For gentleness to win; + Somewhere a hidden chink appears + Where love may enter in. + + + +1889 + + + +CONTENTS + +I. UNWELCOME NEWS. +II. THE PARSONAGE. +III. THE ARRIVAL. +IV. THE NEW HOME. +V. SUNDAY. +VI. LOSING HOLD OF THE BRIDLE. +VII. THE RED HOUSE. +VIII. UP THE PEAK. +IX. A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED. +X. ON THE LAKE. +XI. HOPES FULFILLED. +XII. WEARY DAYS. +XIII. LUCY FINDS THE KEY. +XIV. A GREAT CHANGE. +XV. THE WEDDING. +XVI. FIVE YEARS AFTER. + + + +THANKFUL REST. + + + +I. + +UNWELCOME NEWS. + +It was the prettiest homestead in all the township, everybody said, +and it had the prettiest name. It stood a mile or so beyond +Pendlepoint on the farther side of the river, from which it was +separated by a broad meadow, where in the summer time the sleek kine +stood udder-deep in cowslips and clover. + +It was a long, low, comfortable-looking house, hidden by lovely +creeping plants, and sheltered at the back by the old elm trees in +the paddock, and at the front by the apple trees in the orchard. +Perhaps it was because it had such a snug, cosy, restful look about +it that it had been queerly christened Thankful Rest. The land +adjoining the homestead was rich and fertile, and brought in every +year a crop worth a goodly competence to its possessors. The family +at Thankful Rest consisted of two people--Joshua Strong and his +sister Hepzibah. You are to make their acquaintance immediately, but +a remark made once by old Reuben Waters, their next neighbour, may +perhaps give you an idea of their characters better than any long +description of mine:---- + +"For crankiness and nearness, and unneighbourly sourness, give me +Josh Strong and his sister Hepsy. They can't be equalled, I bet, in +all Connecticut." + +You will be able to judge by-and-by of the correctness of Reuben's +estimate. On a lovely August afternoon Miss Hepzibah Strong was +ironing in the kitchen at Thankful Rest. I wish you could have seen +that kitchen; your eyes would have ached with its painful +cleanliness. The stone flags were as cool and clean as water and +hands could make them; the stove shone like burnished silver; the +dresser and the table, at which Miss Hepzibah was at work, were white +as snow; and the array of tins on the wall was perfectly dazzling +with brightness. The wide diamond-paned casement stood open to admit +what little air happened to be abroad that sultry afternoon. How +pleasant it was, to be sure, to look out upon the flower-laden +garden; upon the sunny orchard, rich and golden with its precious +harvest; upon the silver thread of the river winding through the +green meadow beyond; and to see and feel all the loveliness with +which God had clothed the world. But Miss Hepzibah had no eyes for +any of the beauties I have mentioned; she was intent upon her work, +and hung on the clothes-horse piece after piece of stiff, spotless +linen, which, as she could boast, could not be equalled in the +township. Miss Hepzibah herself was not a pretty picture. She was a +woman of thirty-five or thereabouts; with a thin, brown, hard-looking +face; sharp, twinkling gray eyes; and a long, grim, resolute mouth. +She wore a short skirt of dark material, a lilac calico jacket, and a +huge white apron. On ordinary occasions her head was adorned by a cap +of fearful workmanship and dimensions, but in the heat of her work +she had thrown it off, and her scanty brown hair was fastened tightly +back in a cue behind. + +Just as the old eight-day clock in the lobby solemnly struck four, +there was a loud knock at the back door, and the post-messenger from +Pendlepoint strode into the kitchen, holding in his hand a +black-edged letter. + +"Bad news for ye, Miss Hepsy, I doubt," he said. "It'll be from your +sister in Newhaven, I reckon." + +Miss Hepzibah took the black-edged letter coolly in her hand, eyed it +stolidly for a second, and then laid it on the table. "Sit down a +minute, Ebenezer, an' I'll bring ye a glass of cider," she said. + +And Ebenezer saw her depart to the larder nothing loath. But if he +thought Miss Hepsy meant to open the letter and confide its contents +to him he was mistaken, for she pushed it aside and went on with her +ironing. So after being briefly rested and refreshed, he went his +way, bidding her a surly good-afternoon. Still the letter lay +untouched upon the table till the last collar was hung on the horse, +the irons set on the flags to cool, and the blanket folded in the +dresser. Then Miss Hepsy broke the seal, and read without change of +expression what ought to have been a sorrowful intimation to her, the +news of the death of her younger and only sister, who had married and +been left a widow in Newhaven. But before Miss Hepsy had read to the +end, her expression _did_ change, and she exclaimed, "Wal, if this +ain't about the humbugginest fix. Hetty's boy and gal got to come +here--nowhere else to go. Wonder what Josh'll say?" + +Miss Hepsy sat down, and, crossing her long hands on her lap, +remained deep in thought till the old clock struck again, five this +time. Then she sprang to her feet, whisked the letter into the table +drawer, and fetching out baking-board and flour-basin, proceeded to +make dough for a supper cake. It was barely ready when her brother +came in at six, and he looked slightly surprised to see no signs of +the supper on the table. + +"I've had a letter from Newhaven, Josh," Miss Hepsy said abruptly. +"Hetty's dead; you won't be surprised to hear, I suppose. It's from +her minister; and he says you've got to come up right away and see +about things, an' fetch back the boy and gal with you. They've got +nowhere else to go, he says, an' we're their nearest kinsfolk. I got +thinkin' it over, and forgot my work, like a fool." + +Joshua Strong's grim face grew grimmer, if possible, as he listened +to his sister's words. He reached out his hand for the letter she had +taken from the drawer, and slowly spelt it to the end. + +"There ain't anything for it but grin and bear it, Hepsy," he said. +"Though I don't see what business folks has marryin' an' dyin' an' +leavin' their children to poor folks to keep. It'll be a mighty +difference to expense havin' other two mouths to feed an' backs to +clothe." + +"An' what I'm to make of two fine gentry children, as Hetty's are +sure to be, round all the time, I don't know," said Miss Hepsy, +whisking off a griddle cake with unnecessary vigour. "I declare Hetty +might have had more sense than think we could do with 'em. I'm rare +upset about it, I can tell ye." + +"It doesn't say what she died o'," said Joshua meditatively, twirling +the letter in his brown fingers. + +"Died o'?" repeated Miss Hepsy tartly. "Why, of pinin' arter that +husband o' her'n. What's her fine scholar done for her now, I wonder? +Left her a lone widder to die off and leave penniless children to +other folks to keep. But I'll warrant they'll work for their meat at +Thankful Rest. I'll have no stuck-up idle notions here." + +"How am I to get to Newhaven jes' now, I'd like to know," said +Joshua, "and all that corn waitin' to be stacked? It's clean beyond +me." + +Miss Hepsy thought a moment. "I have it. Miss Goldthwaite was here +to-day, an' she said the parson was goin' to Newhaven to-morrow to +stay a day or two. We'll get him to see to things an' bring the +children down. I'll go to Pendlepoint whenever I've got my supper, +an' ask him. Here, ask the grace quick an' let's be hurryin'," she +said; and before the few mumbled words had fallen from Joshua's lips, +Miss Hepsy was well through with her first cup of tea! + +At that moment, in a darkened chamber in a quiet city street, two +orphan children clung to each other weeping, wondering fearfully to +see so white, and cold, and still, the sweet face which had been wont +to smile upon them as only a mother can. + +They wept, but the days were at hand when they would realize more +bitterly than now what they had lost, and how utterly they were left +alone. + + + +II. + +THE PARSONAGE. + +In the pleasant front parlour of the parsonage at Pendlepoint, the +Rev. Frank Goldthwaite and his sister were lingering over their +tea-table. He was a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, with an +open kindly face, and grave thoughtful eyes, which yet at times could +sparkle with merriment as bright as that which so often shone in his +sister's blue orbs. A bright, winsome, lovable maiden was Carrie +Goldthwaite, the very joy of her brother's heart, and the apple of +every eye in the township. The brother and sister were deeply +attached to each other, the fact that they were separated from their +father's happy home in New York drawing them the more closely +together. They had been talking of Mr. Goldthwaite's projected visit +on the morrow, and he had at last succeeded in repeating faithfully +all the commissions his sister wished him to execute, when the +swinging of the garden gate, and a firm tread on the gravel, made +Miss Goldthwaite rise and peep behind the curtain. + +"It's Miss Hepsy, Frank," she said with a very broad smile; +"something very important must it be which brings her here. I don't +think she has been to the parsonage since the day we came." + +The next moment Miss Goldthwaite's "help" ushered in Miss Hepsy +Strong, attired in a shawl of brilliant hues and a marvellous bonnet. +She dropped a courtesy to the parson, and sat down on the extreme +edge of the chair Miss Goldthwaite offered her, declining, at the +same time, her offer of a cup of tea. Evidently, Miss Hepsy was not +used to company manners. + +"I've made bold to come down to-night, sir," she said, fixing her +keen eyes on Mr. Goldthwaite's pleasant face, "knowin' you was goin' +to Newhaven to-morrow, to ask if you would do Josh and me a +kindness." + +"If I can, Miss Strong," returned the minister courteously, "be sure +I shall be very glad to do so." + +"You've heard tell, I reckon," said Miss Hepsy, "of our sister Hetty +as married the schoolmaster in Newhaven?" + +Mr. Goldthwaite nodded. + +"Well, she's dead," continued Miss Hepsy with a business-like +stolidity inexplicable to Carrie Goldthwaite's warm heart, "an' she's +left two children, which Josh an' me'll hev to take, I reckon, seein' +their parents is both dead now. We'd a letter to-day from the +minister there--Mr. Penn he calls hisself, I think." + +"Yes, I know him," put in Mr. Goldthwaite. + +"He wants Josh to come up right away, which he can't possibly do an' +the corn not in the barn yet. A day's worth so many dollars jes' now, +an' can't be throwed away. Now, sir, will ye be so kind as to see to +things at Hetty's, an' fetch the children with you when ye come back? +It'll be a great favour to Josh and me." + +The minister concealed what he thought, and answered courteously that +he should do his best. Then Miss Hepsy rose and shook out her green +skirts. + +"The address is Fifteenth Street, sir, an' Hetty's name was Hurst. I +reckon ye'll find it easy enough. That's all; I'll be goin' now.--No, +thanks, Miss Goldthwaite, I can't sit down; it's 'most milking time, +and if Keziah's left to do it herself, there's no saying what might +happen.--So, good evenin', and thank ye, sir;" and before the brother +and sister recovered from their amazement, Miss Hepsy had whisked out +of the room, and the next minute her firm, man-like tread broke upon +their ears again. Mr. Goldthwaite looked at his sister with a comical +smile, which was answered by a peal of laughter from her sweet lips. + +"I can't help it indeed, Frank," she said. "I am so sorry for the +poor children, bereft of both parents. Their mother was a refined, +gentle creature, too, I have been told; of a different mould from +Miss Hepsy. The calmness, though, to ask you to do all this simply +because Joshua is too hard to spare a day's labour! Are you doing +altogether right, Frank, I wonder, in taking it off his hands?" + +"I could not refuse it, Carrie," returned the minister. "Like you, I +am sorry for the poor little orphans. Their life will not be all +sunshine, I fear, at Thankful Rest." + +Miss Goldthwaite sighed, and from the open window watched in silence +Miss Hepsy's brilliant figure crossing the river by the bridge a +hundred yards beyond the parsonage gate. + +"I think, Frank, that among all your parishioners there is not a more +unhappy pair than Joshua Strong and his sister. I wish they could be +made to see how differently God meant them to spend their lives. It +saddens me to see their hardness and sourness." + +"Perhaps these little children may do them good, dear," returned the +minister gravely. "It would not be the first time God has used the +influence of little children to do what no other power on earth +could. We will pray it may be so." + +"Yes," returned Carrie Goldthwaite; and the shade deepened on her +sweet face as she added again, "Poor little things! it will be a sore +change from the tender care of a mother. We must do what we can, +Frank, to make their home at Thankful Rest as happy as possible. We +had such a happy one ourselves, I feel an intense pity for those who +have not. There is Judge Keane on horseback at the gate. He wants +either you or me to go out and speak with him." + +The minister rose, and both stepped out to the veranda, and down the +steps to the garden. The judge had alighted, and fastening his bridle +to the gate-post, came up the path to meet them. He was an old man, +with white hair and beard; but his fine figure was as erect and +stately as it had been a quarter of a century before. He shook hands +cordially with the minister, touched Carrie Goldthwaite's brow with +his lips, and then said, in a brisk, cheerful voice,-- + +"My wife heard you were going to Newhaven for a couple of days, and +sent me down to say she would expect you, miss," (he nodded to +Carrie,) "at the Red House to-morrow, to stay till he comes back. I +may say yes, I suppose?" + +"Yes, and thank you, Judge Keane," said Miss Goldthwaite with a +little grateful smile. "Even with Abbie's company, it is very dull +when Frank is away. Won't you come in?" + +The judge shook his head, and turned to the gate again. "Not +to-night, my dear. Good-night, and good-bye, Frank." + +"Have you no commissions, judge?" asked the minister. "I shall have +plenty of time at my disposal; my own business is very little." + +"No, I think not," returned the judge. "But, let me see." + +Miss Goldthwaite moved to the gate, and laid her hand caressingly on +Beauty's glossy neck. + +"I only envy you one thing, Judge Keane," she said; "and this is it. +What a beauty she is!" + +The judge laughed, and his eyes lingered on the slim, girlish figure +in its dainty muslin garb; and on the sweet, unclouded face, which +was a true index to the happy heart within. + +"Beauty shall be yours by-and-by," he laughed; and a swift wave of +colour swept across her face, and she hid it in the animal's glossy +mane.--"Safe journey, Frank. Come to the Red House for your sister +when you want her.--Steady, Beauty." He sprang to the saddle, and +held out his hand to Carrie. + +"I'm glad you've said yes, my dear," he whispered, with a mischievous +twinkle in his gray eyes, "or a certain young man would have thought +nothing of coming to take you by main force. Shall I tell him of that +sweet blush? Or--" + +But Miss Goldthwaite had fled, and Beauty flew off like an arrow. + + + +III. + +THE ARRRIVAL. + +On Friday morning, Miss Hepsy received a brief note from Mr. +Goldthwaite, stating that he had attended the funeral of Mrs. Hurst, +paid the little she had owed in Newhaven, and would be at Pendlepoint +by the noon cars that day, when he requested Miss Hepsy to be in +waiting at the depot to meet her nephew and niece. + +Now, Friday was Miss Hepsy's cleaning day. Although ordinary eyes +would have been puzzled to point out what spot in that shining domain +required more than the touch of a duster, the house was upturned from +ceiling to basement, and received such sweeping and dusting and +polishing, such scouring and scrubbing, that it was a marvel Miss +Hepsy was not exhausted at the end of it. She had just turned out the +parlour chairs into the lobby, and was busy with broom and dust-pan, +sweeping up invisible dust, when Ebenezer brought her Mr. +Goldthwaite's letter. So much did it upset her, that he had to depart +without his glass of cider, for she took no more notice of him than +if he had been one of the pillars at the door. It was eleven o'clock +almost; it would take her every moment to dress and be at the depot +in time; so she had to set the chairs back into the half-swept room, +replace her working garb by the green dress and the plaid shawl, take +her blue umbrella and trudge off, leaving the management of the +dinner to Keziah. Her frame of mind as she did so augured ill for the +welcome of her sister's children. + +The cars were half an hour late, and Miss Hepsy strode up and down +the platform in a ferment of wrath and impatience, thinking of the +dinner under awkward Keziah's supervision; of the sweeping and +dusting and baking all to be done in the afternoon; of the bother two +strange children were sure to be; of a hundred and one things, which +brought her temper up to fever heat by the time the train puffed into +the depot. From the window of a first-class compartment two faces +looked out eagerly, but failed to recognize in Miss Hepsy the sister +of the dear dead mother they had so lately lost. Miss Hepsy saw Mr, +Goldthwaite step out first, followed by a tall, handsome-looking boy, +well dressed and refined-looking, who in his turn assisted with care +and tenderness a slight, delicate-looking girl, who bore such a +strong resemblance to her dead mother that her aunt had no difficulty +in recognizing her. She stamped forward, nodded to Mr. Goldthwaite, +and held out a hand in turn to each of the children. + +"I'm tired to death waitin' on these pesky cars," she said, +addressing herself to Mr. Goldthwaite. "I hope they've behaved +themselves, sir, an' not bothered ye.--Bless me, children, don't +stare at me so; I'm your Aunt Hepzibah. You look as if you had never +seen a woman afore." + +"There is a trunk, Miss Hepsy," said Mr. Goldthwaite, unable to help +an amused smile playing about his mouth. "You will need to send a +cart for it.--They have been very good children indeed, and instead +of bothering, have greatly helped to make my journey enjoyable." + +"I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure," said Miss Hepsy, looking very much +as if she was not glad at all. "Well, I guess we'd better be +movin'.--What's your name, boy?" she said, turning to the lad with an +abruptness which made him start. + +"My name is Tom, aunt," he answered promptly; "this is Lucy." +"Miss Hetty might have called one of ye after her own kin.--Well, +good-day, Mr. Goldthwaite; I guess Josh'll walk down to the parsonage +at night an' pay up.--Come along." + +"Good-bye, Tom, good-bye, Lucy, in the meantime," said the minister +kindly. "We shall see each other often, I fancy." + +"Oh, sir, I hope so," said Lucy, speaking for the first time. "You +have been so kind to us when we had nobody else." Her dark eyes +suddenly overflowed, and she turned away to follow her aunt, while +Tom, whistling to vent some strong feeling, went on in front. + +Miss Hepsy walked as if for a wager, and never opened her mouth once, +until they stood upon the threshold of Thankful Rest. + +"Now, look here; this is yer home," she said; then, fixing grim eyes +alternately on their faces, "an' I hope ye'll behave, an' show yer +gratitude for it. That's all.--I bet Keziah's burned the soup;" with +which words Miss Hepsy burst into the kitchen, ready to extinguish +the unfortunate "help" if everything was not up to the mark. The +brother and sister lingered a moment on the threshold, feeling new +and strange and sad, their welcome had been so disappointing. + +"Lucy," said Tom Hurst suddenly, "do you believe that woman's mamma's +sister? I don't." + +"Of course she is," returned Lucy. "And you must not call her 'that +woman,' Tom; she is our aunt, mamma's sister, you know, and we must +behave, she says." + +Tom made a wry face. "I don't feel like behaving any," he said. "But +I say, Lucy, isn't this a prime place?" + +Lucy's eyes beamed as they looked round the pretty, peaceful +homestead, with its laden orchard, wealth of flowers and glorious +summer beauty. But she did not answer. + +"We'd better go in, I suppose, though we weren't asked," said Tom. "I +wonder if it's near dinner-time; I'm famished." + +He pushed open the door, and, followed by Lucy, entered the +wide-bricked kitchen. A sudden change had taken place in Aunt Hepsy's +appearance. In the twinkling of an eye she had donned her working +garb again, and was paring potatoes at the table. Fortunately, the +dinner had progressed satisfactorily during her absence. + +"Come in and sit down," she said, pointing to the settle at the fire. +"Ye'll be hungry, I reckon; but it'll soon be dinner-time. I don't +approve of eating 'tween meals.--I guess you never did any of this +kind o' work, Lucy?" + +"No, Aunt Hepsy," returned Lucy timidly. "I've seen Hannah do it; +that was our girl." + +"Humph; ye won't be long here before ye can pare potatoes as well as +Hannah. You'll be willin' to learn, I hope?" + +"I shall do my best, Aunt Hepsy," returned the girl meekly. + +"Mamma never pared potatoes, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom boldly. + +"No; I know she didn't, boy," said Miss Hepsy severely. "Your mother +was as useless as a bit o' Sunday china.--I hope you won't be like +her, Lucy." + +"I hope she will, Aunt Hepsy," spoke up Tom again. "Mamma was +perfectly splendid, everybody said." + +"You'd better go outside, boy," said Miss Hepsy wrathfully, "till you +learn to speak respectfully to your aunt. I know what your mother +was. She was my own sister, I hope." + +Tom caught up his cap and fled, nothing loath; his aunt irritated +him, and made him forget himself. + +"How old are you, child?" said Miss Hepsy, turning to Lucy, after a +moment's silence. + +"I am fourteen past, Aunt Hepsy; Tom is twelve." + +Miss Hepsy dropped her paring-knife and stared. + +"Bless me, child, you don't look more'n nine, and that great boy +looks years older'n you. What have ye fed on?" + +Lucy smiled faintly. "I have not been very strong this summer, Aunt +Hepsy; and I was so anxious about mamma being so poorly. I couldn't +sleep at nights, nor eat anything hardly. I suppose that's what made +me thin." Miss Hepsy sniffed. + +"Have any of ye been to school?" was her next question. + +"No, Aunt Hepsy. Papa taught us till he died, and then mamma kept up +our lessons as well as she could. Tom is a good scholar; and, oh, +such a beautiful painter!" + +"Painter!" echoed Miss Hepsy. "What, fence rails and gates?" + +Lucy looked very much shocked. "Oh no; he draws landscapes and +things, and went to the Art School as long as mamma could afford it. +Then he practised at home. He means to be a great painter some day, +like the ones he read about." + +"Humph!" said Miss Hepsy contemptuously. "I guess his uncle'll find +him work in painting the farm an' the gates afresh this fall. It'll +save a man. Now then, there's them taters on. Come upstairs an' I'll +show you your room." + +Lucy rose at once, and obediently followed her aunt along the wide +flagged passage and up the polished oak steps to a tiny little +chamber in the attic fiat. It was poorly furnished, but it was +scrupulously clean; and from the window Lucy's delighted eyes caught +a glimpse of the broad green meadow, the shining water of the river, +and beyond, the houses of the town nestling in the shadow of the +giant slopes of Pendle Peak. + +"Your brother's room is on t'other side o' the landing," explained +Miss Hepsy; "an' I'll 'spect you to keep 'em both as clean's a new +pin. I'm mighty partickler, mind, an' can't abide untidiness. An' if +yer mother's brought ye up to think yersel' a lady, the sooner ye get +rid of that notion the better, 'cos yell have to work here; we don't +keep no idle hands. Get off your hat an' cape now, an' come down as +fast's ye like, an' help set the table for dinner." + +Miss Hepsy then whisked out of the room, and clattered down the +stairs in haste. + +Lucy moved to the window recess, and stood looking upon the peace and +beauty without, until her eyes were brimming with tears. Then she +knelt down by the side of the bed, sobbing pitifully, "Mamma, mamma! +come back, O dear mamma! we have nobody on earth but you!" + + + +IV. + +THE NEW HOME. + +Meanwhile Tom had gone on an exploring expedition. He investigated +every outhouse and shed, frightened the geese and turkeys into fits +by rushing through their paddock shouting at the pitch of his voice, +caught the superannuated mule by the tail, and made her fly off like +a four-year old, made friends with the savage watch-dog on the chain, +coaxed the pigeons to fly to him, and finally went off to the fields +in search of his uncle. On the road outside the farmyard gate he met +a team, driven by a big uncouth-looking man, dressed in coarse +trowsers, a red shirt, and a battered straw hat. + +"You'll be one of the men, I guess," said Tom, stopping in front of +him. "Can you tell me where my Uncle Joshua is?" + +The man grinned. "Air you Hetty's boy, youngster?" + +"I'm Mrs. Hurst's son," corrected Tom proudly. "Who are you?" + +"If I'm not yer Uncle Josh, I reckon he ain't be home terday," +returned the man.--"Hi! up, Sally; you and me's not fit company, I +guess, for a city gent." + +"If you _are_ Uncle Joshua, I beg your pardon I'm sure," said Tom +with his usual frankness. "Won't you shake hands, Uncle Joshua?" + +Uncle Joshua took the thin, delicate hand in his own brown palm, and +looked at it curiously. + +"Jes' as Hepsy said--Hetty's boy's more for ornament than use. Well, +youngster, now you're here ye'll work for yer bread, I hope. We're +poor folks here, an' can't keep idle hands. Ye'll hev to learn to +mind a team like this." + +"I wouldn't mind if I'd a better horse, Uncle Josh," said Tom, +walking alongside of his uncle, and eying the hungry-looking steed +critically. "See his ribs. Don't you feed him ever, Uncle Josh?" + +The man's face flushed angrily. "Shut up, younker!" he said savagely. +"Don't speak about things ye know nothing about." + +Tom walked on a minute or two in silence, but in no way disconcerted. + +"This is a very nice place, Uncle Josh," he said. "Mamma often told +us about it, but it's prettier than I thought it would be." + +"The place'll do, I reckon," admitted Uncle Josh. "But farmin' ain't +what it was. It's a hard job gettin' meat an' drink out o'd +now-a-days." + +"Mamma told us you were rich," said Tom in surprise. "But you can't +be, because--because--" + +"Wal?" said Uncle Josh, with a slow, stupid smile. + +"Because your horses are all thin, and _you_ wear these clothes; and +Aunt Hepsy doesn't dress like a lady. Rich people don't live so." + +"You're a fool, youngster. Just your mother over again. You don't +know, I suppose, that to save money folks must live cheap, an' not be +all outside show. Ye'll learn better, maybe, afore ye've been long at +Thankful Rest,--Hi, Sally! Whoa, lass." + +The thin, wretched-looking horse stood still, thankful to be released +from the heavy waggon; and Tom watched all his uncle's movements with +much interest. He followed him from the yard to the stable, saw him +give the five horses a scanty feed of corn and a pail of water. + +"We'll go and hev a bite o' dinner now," he said; then, "Your +sister'll be indoors, I guess?" + +Tom nodded, and the two proceeded to the house. Lucy was downstairs +by this time, awkwardly placing knives, forks, and plates on the +table, under Miss Hepsy's directions. A glad smile crept to her eyes +at sight of Tom; it seemed ages since he had gone out. She looked +timidly at her uncle as he shook hands with her, remarking she was a +pale-faced thing, and needed work and exercise to make her spry. Then +the company sat down, and Tom, if Lucy did not, did ample justice to +Miss Hepsy's cookery. It was an unsociable, uncomfortable meal. Aunt +and uncle ate, as they did everything else, as if for a wager, and +were finished before Lucy had touched her meat and potatoes. + +"Look spry, child," said her aunt, beginning to clear away almost +immediately. "You'll ha' to learn to eat to some purpose. Time don't +last for ever." + +Lucy pushed back her unfinished plateful and rose. + +"Not dainty enough for ye, is it not?" was the next remark. "Ye'll +eat it by-and-by maybe." + +"I'm not hungry, Aunt Hepsy," she said with quivering lips; and Tom +bit his to keep back angry words surging to them. + +"May I go out for a little, Aunt Hepsy?" Lucy asked. + +"When you've wiped them dishes you may," replied Aunt Hepsy. "I lost +two good hours goin' to that plaguy depot for you, so the least ye +can do is to help me through.--Josh, find summat for the boy to do; +'tain't no use hevin' him 'round idle lookin' for mischief." + +"Come along to the barn then, What's-yer-name," said Uncle Josh, +picking up his hat and sauntering to the door.--"Don't be too hard on +that little 'un, Hepsy; she don't look over strong." + +"Mind yer own business, will ye, Josh Strong," was Miss Hepsy's smart +rejoinder. "I guess I'm able to mind mine." + +Under Miss Hepsy's directions, Lucy succeeded in washing up the +dishes without disaster, and was then requested to come to the far +parlour and receive a lesson in sweeping and dusting. Then baking +came on, and with one thing and another Miss Hepsy managed to keep +the child within doors and on her feet till past four o'clock. She +was fainting with fatigue, but would not complain, and Miss Hepsy was +too busy to observe the pallor on her face. + +"May I sit down for a minute, please?" she said at last, after +bringing a huge can of flour from the larder. "I am afraid I am going +to faint, Aunt Hepsy;" and she looked like enough it, as she sank +wearily on the settle, and let her white lids droop over her tired +eyes. + +Miss Hepsy was more than annoyed. "A delicate child above all +humbugs," she muttered, as she sprinkled a few drops of spring water +on the girl's face, and held her smelling-salts to her nostrils. + +"Ye'd better go out an' get a mouthful of fresh air, I suppose," she +said ungraciously when Lucy rose at last, with a faint touch of +returning colour in her cheeks. + +And Lucy gladly went upstairs for her hat, and crept out into the +beautiful sunshine. The garden gate was locked, but she managed to +turn the key, and went slowly, in a maze of delight, along the trim +paths, past beds of roses, hollyhocks, pansies, and sweet-scented +gilly-flowers. The orchard beyond looked tempting indeed, where the +sunbeams glistened through the bending boughs of apple, plum, and +cherry trees, on the soft carpet of grass beneath. She managed to +unfasten the gate there too, and choosing a wide-spreading +apple-tree, from which she could see the meadow and the river, flung +herself on the grass beneath it. There she fell asleep, and Tom found +her an hour after. His fine face looked worried and discontented, and +he flung himself beside her, saying gloomily,-- + +"How on earth I am to live here, Lucy Hurst, I don't know." + +"What is it, Tom?" inquired she, forgetting her own troubles in +sympathy for him. + +"Oh, Uncle Josh, that's all. He hasn't any patience with me, and +makes me speak up impertinently to him. And the things they say about +mamma are perfectly shameful. I won't bear it now, I won't." + +His sister's gentle hand touched his lips to stem the passionate +words. + +"You remember, Tom," she said softly, "what mamma said to us. We were +to endure all such little trials, remembering that it is God who +sends them. Think how grieved she would be if she could hear us +grumbling so soon." + +"I don't care; I can't help it," said the boy recklessly. "It isn't +anything for you to be good, Lucy; you are just like mamma--a kind of +saint, I think. For me it is just a long battle all day. If a fellow +conquered in the end, it would not matter; but as it is--O Lucy, +Lucy! why did mamma die? It was so easy to be happy and good when we +had her to love and help us. I wish I were dead too." + +Poor, proud, passionate Tom! His sister could only put her gentle arm +about his neck and cry too, her heart so sorely re-echoed the painful +longing in his voice. + +So the first day at Thankful Rest did not promise very brightly for +Tom and Lucy Hurst. + + + +V. + +SUNDAY + +Saturday was the busiest day in the week at Thankful Rest. There was +churning to be done, extra cooking for Sunday, mending and darning, +and the weekly polishing of every bit of brass, and copper, and tin +in the establishment. Lucy rubbed at them till her arms ached, +without bringing them to the required height of brightness, and was +at last sent off to pick the few remaining gooseberries for a tart. +That was a piece of work much more to her liking, and she lingered so +long out in the sunshine that Aunt Hepsy came at last, and scolded +her long and shrilly; which took all the enjoyment away. Tom received +his lessons from Uncle Josh outside; and, judging from his face when +he came in at dinner-time, he had not found them particularly +agreeable. Tom Hurst was a dainty youth, in fact, and shrank from +soiling his fingers with the tasks allotted to him: and seeing that +grim Uncle Josh had not spared him, the forenoon had been one long +battle; for, try as he might, Tom could not keep a bridle on his +tongue. + +"I guess I'll hev a pesky deal o' trouble with that young 'un, +Hepsy," his uncle said that night when the children had gone to bed. +"He doesn't take to farm work; an' he's that peart I durstn't speak +to him. Queer thing if we've got to keep the young upstart in +idleness." + +"Idleness!" quoth Miss Hepsy wrathfully. "I'd take a rope's end to +him if he didn't keep a civil tongue in his head. The gal's bad +enough; though she never speaks back she looks at me that proud-like +wi' them great eyes o' her'n, I feel as if I'd like to shake her. +There'll never be a day's peace now they've come." + +"Tell ye what, though, Hepsy," said Josh. "I'm gwine to pay off +Brahm, an' make Tom do his work. He ain't that much younger, an' he +looks strong enough! Couldn't you do without Keziah, and that would +square expenses?" + +"I'll see how the child turns out in a week or so. She's a pinin' +thing--doesn't eat enough to keep a mouse alive." + +"It's a thankless thing, any way ye like to take it, Hepsy, hevin' +other folks' youngsters round. I don't see why we should be bothered +with 'em;" with which remark Josh went to bed. + +Lucy awoke next morning, remembering it was Sunday, with a feeling of +gladness that they might perhaps chance to see their friend Mr. +Goldthwaite at church. The Strongs were regular as clock-work in +their half-day attendance at the meeting-house. The morn'ng was +devoted to feeding cattle, pigs, and poultry, and tidying up the +house; and after dinner the premises were left in charge of Brahm and +Keziah, and the master and mistress turned their footsteps towards +Pendlepoint. The meeting-house was almost close to the parsonage, and +was a pretty, primitive structure, with no attempt at display or +decoration, and yet so pleasant and homelike inside that Lucy felt a +sense of rest as her eyes wandered round it. Tom nudged her and +whispered, "Nice little chapel, Lucy;" at which Miss Hepsy held up a +warning finger and shook her head. Tom blushed and laughed, Aunt +Hepsy looked so intensely comical. Then she became very red in the +face, and opening her hymn-book, kept her eyes on its pages till Mr. +Goldthwaite came in. His eyes travelled straight to the Strongs' pew, +and Lucy thought she saw a kindly gleam of recognition in his eyes. +Carrie was at the harmonium. She, too, looked once or twice in their +direction; and both children found her face so sweet and pleasant +that they could not lift their eyes off it. The chapel was full, and +the singing of the hymn was so hearty and so sweet, that Lucy felt +her eyes dim, she could not tell why. But it seemed to remind her of +her mother. + +Mr. Goldthwaite preached only half an hour; but his sermon was so +beautiful and comforting, and so easily understood, that Lucy thought +Sunday would recompense her for all the troubles of the week. Tom's +eyes never left Mr. Goldthwaite's earnest face, and I believe that +the memory of his words remained with the boy for weeks after. He had +never heard a sermon in his life he had understood and _felt_ like +this one. Uncle Josh snored rather noisily in the corner, and Aunt +Hepsy nodded occasionally over her Bible--the minister's message did +not even reach their ears. + +When the service was over and they reached the church porch, they +found Miss Goldthwaite standing there. She had a nod and a smile for +every one, but her particular mission was with Tom and Lucy. She +shook hands with the uncle and aunt, and then bent her sweet eyes on +the children's faces. + +"These be Hetty's children, Miss Goldthwaite," said Miss Hepsy. "Lucy +and Tom." + +"Yes, I know," nodded Miss Goldthwaite. "I came round to see them. I +want them to take tea with me to-day, at my brother's special +request." + +Miss Hepsy did not look at all delighted. "They'll jes' bother ye, +Miss Goldthwaite," said she; "an' besides, 'taint no use visitin' on +Sundays--I don't like it." + +"It's hardly visiting, Miss Hepsy," said the young lady in the same +pleasant voice. "And when they are at Pendlepoint you may as well let +them. We will bring them safely home. Come now, Miss Hepsy, you know +nobody ever refuses me anything." + +"Let them bide, Hepsy," said Uncle Josh, remembering what trouble and +expense the minister had spared him, and not wishing to appear so +unmindful of it. "I guess they won't come to no harm at the +parson's." + +So Miss Hepsy was forced to grant a reluctant consent, and Miss +Carrie bore off the happy children in triumph. At the parsonage gate +Mr. Goldthwaite joined them, and gave them both a hearty welcome. +Even shy Lucy was at her ease immediately with Miss Carrie; for who +could resist that bright, caressing manner, and those beaming, loving +eyes? She carried Lucy off to her own pretty room to take off her +hat, and kept her there talking and showing her the beautiful view +from the window till Mr. Goldthwaite had to call to them to come to +tea. What a pleasant meal it was, and how the little company enjoyed +themselves. Then, when it was over, Mr. Goldthwaite took Tom to the +garden, and drew him on to talk of himself, of his hopes and +ambitions, and sympathized so heartily and cheerfully with him that +Tom began to think it was worth while coming to Thankful Rest, if for +nothing else than this pleasant hour at the parsonage. Meanwhile +Carrie had opened the piano, and sang low and softly one or two +hymns; and when she looked round, wondering why Lucy had moved from +her side, she saw her on the sofa with her face hidden. She rose, and +sitting down beside her, put her arm about her, and whispered +gently,-- + +"My poor child, what is it?" + +"Mamma, Miss Goldthwaite," sobbed Lucy. "She used always to sing to +us on Sunday evenings just so, and it makes me feel dreadful to think +she never will any more." + +"Yes, Lucy, I understand," said Carrie; and the very sound of her +voice soothed the child's troubled heart. "But you know who has +promised to comfort the mourning heart if we will but ask Him? Our +God is 'the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort.'" + +A quick smile broke through Lucy's tears. "If it were not for that, +Miss Goldthwaite," she said simply, "I should have died when mamma +did." + +"And just think, dear," went on the sweet voice, "of the glad time +coming when we shall all meet, please God, in a happier world than +this. We shall not remember these sad hours then, shall we, Lucy? I +know, my dear, how lonely and sad and strange you feel here now; but +God can make us happy anywhere." + +"Yes, Miss Carrie, I know it," returned the child simply and +earnestly; "only I am so troubled sometimes about Tom. Mamma was +often troubled about him too. He is so passionate and quick and +proud. Oh, I don't know how he is to get on with Uncle Joshua and +Aunt Hepsy!" + +"We will hope for the best," said Miss Carrie cheerfully; "and +by-and-by, perhaps, a way may be opened up for him to get his heart's +desire.--Would you like to see my pets, Lucy? I have chickens, and +pigeons, and dogs, and kittens, and all sorts of things. Frank says +the yard is a menagerie." + +"Yes, I would like it very much. There are some pretty chickens and +kittens at Aunt Hepsy's, but she won't let me pet them." + +In the delight of examining Miss Goldthwaite's menagerie sadder +thoughts flew, and the evening sped on golden wings. The time came at +last for the two to bid a regretful good-bye to the parsonage and +turn their faces homewards. The minister and his sister accompanied +them half across the meadow, and bade them good-night, with many +promises of future meetings. + +Tom and Lucy walked on in silence till they reached the paddock, and +then the lad said abruptly, "It will not be so hard to live here, +Lucy, if we can see them sometimes. I don't believe there's another +minister like Mr. Goldthwaite in the State; nor another minister's +sister either." + +Lucy smiled, her heart re-echoing her brother's words. + +"I have not felt so happy since mamma died," she said softly. "O Tom, +is it not true what she used to say--'That God gives us something to +be grateful for everywhere'?" + +"Yes," said Tom soberly; and the next moment Aunt Hepsy's tall figure +appeared at the kitchen door, and her shrill voice broke the pleasant +Sabbath calm. + +"Here, come in, you two. Air you going to stand there all night? It's +'most nine o'clock--time you were in bed. I guess you won't go +visitin' on Sunday any more." + + + +VI. + +LOSING HOLD OF THE BRIDLE. + +It had rained all day, and not all that day only, but the best part +of the one before. Not a soft, gentle summer rain, but a fierce, wild +storm, which beat the poor flowers to the earth, spoiled the fruit, +and overflowed the river till half the meadow lay under water. There +was plenty of work in the barn for Uncle Josh and the men, and plenty +in the house for Aunt Hepsy and the girls. The scullery was full of +wet clothes waiting on a dry day. That of itself, not to speak of the +damage to the orchard, was sufficient to make Aunt Hepsy a very +disagreeable person to live with while the storm lasted. Her tongue +went from early morning till afternoon, scolding alternately at Lucy +and Keziah. The latter was a stolid being, on whom her mistress's +talking made no impression; but it made Lucy nervous and awkward, and +her work was very badly done indeed. At three o'clock Aunt Hepsy sent +her to wash her face, and gave her a long side of a sheet to hem. So +Lucy was sitting on the settle, with a very grave and +sorrowful-looking face, when Tom came in at four. His uncle had no +need of him just then, and had sent him to the house to be out of the +way. Keziah was feeding the calves, and Aunt Hepsy upstairs dressing, +if that word can be appropriately applied to the slight change her +toilet underwent in the afternoon. Tom sat down at the table in the +window, and leaning his arms upon it, looked out gloomily on the +desolate garden, over which the chill, wet mist hung like a pall. +Neither spoke for several minutes. + +"How do you get on now, Lucy?" asked Tom at length. "How sober you +look. Has she been worrying you?" + +"I daresay I am very stupid," said Lucy low and quietly; "but when +Aunt Hepsy talks so loud I don't know what I am doing." + +Miss Hepsy entered at that moment, fortunately without having heard +Lucy's patient speech. "Don't lean your wet, dirty arms on the table, +boy," said she with a sharp glance at Tom. "If you must be in, sit on +your chair like a Christian." + +Tom immediately sat up like a poker. + +"What's yer uncle doin'?" was her next question. + +"He's oiling waggon wheels," answered Tom, "and sent me in." + +Miss Hepsy took out a very ugly piece of knitting from the +dresser-drawer, and sat down opposite Lucy. "It's a pity boys ain't +learned to sew and knit," she said grimly. "It would save a deal of +women's time doin' it for 'em. I think I'll teach you, Tom." + +"No, thank you, Aunt Hepsy." + +"You're much too smart with your tongue, young 'un," said Miss Hepsy +severely, and then relapsed into stolid silence. The click of her +knitting needles, the ticking of the clock, and the rain beating on +the panes, were the only sounds to be heard in the house. Tom drew a +half-sheet of paper and a pencil from his pocket, laid it on the +table, and kept his attention there for a few minutes. Lucy ventured +to cast her eyes in his direction, and he held up the paper to her. A +smile ran all over her face and finally ended in a laugh. Aunt Hepsy +looked round suspiciously to see Tom stuffing something into his +pocket. + +"What were you laughing at, Lucy?" Lucy looked distressed and +answered nothing. + +"What's that you're stuffing into your pocket, Tom?" she said, +turning her eagle eyes again on Tom. + +"A bit paper, aunt, that's all." + +"People don't laugh at common bits o' paper, nor go stuffin' em into +pockets like that. Hand it over." + +"I'd rather not, Aunt Hepsy," said the boy. + +"I rather you would," was her dry retort. "Out with it." + +"It's mine, Aunt Hepsy, and you wouldn't care to see it." + +"How many more times am I to say out with it?" she said angrily. +"I'll let you feel the weight of my hand if you don't look sharp." + +"It's mine, Aunt Hepsy. I won't let you see it," he said doggedly. + +Miss Hepsy's face grew very red, and she flung her knitting on the +rug and strode up to him. "Give me that paper." + +"Well, there 'tis; I hope you like it. I wish I'd made it uglier," +cried he angrily, and flung the paper on the table. + +Aunt Hepsy smoothed it out very deliberately, and held it up to the +light. It was a picture of herself, cleverly done, but highly +exaggerated, and the word _Scold_ printed beneath it. Slowly the red +faded from her face and was replaced by a kind of purple hue. She +lifted her hand and brought it with full force on Tom's cheek. He +sprang to his feet quivering with rage, and pain, and humiliation. +His fierce temper was up, and Lucy trembled for what was to follow. +"Next time you make a fool o' me, boy," said Aunt Hepsy with a slow +smile, "perhaps ye'll get summat ye'll like even less than that." + +Then the boy's anger found vent in words. "If you weren't a woman I'd +knock you down. I hate you, and I wish I'd died before I came to this +horrid place. It's worse than being a beggar living with such people. +You touch me again, and I'll give it you though you are a woman." + +Aunt Hepsy took him by the shoulders and pushed him before her out to +the yard. "Ye'll be cool, I guess, afore I let ye in again," she said +briefly, and then came back to Lucy. + +She was weeping with her face hidden and her work lying on the settle +beside her. + +"Nice brother that of your'n," said Aunt Hepsy. "If he ain't growin' +up to be hanged, my name ain't Hepsy Strong. Here, go on with your +seam, an' don't be foolin' there." + +Lucy silently obeyed, but Aunt Hepsy could not control her thoughts, +and they went pitifully out into the rain after Tom. He stood a +minute or two in a dazed way, and then hurried from the yard, through +the garden and the orchard to the meadow. In one little moment the +victory over temper he had won and kept for weeks was gone; and in +the shame and sorrow which followed, only one person could help him, +and that was Mr. Goldthwaite. There had been many quiet talks with +him since the first Sunday evening, and his lessons had sunk deep +into the boy's heart, and he had indeed been earnestly trying to make +the best of the life and work which had no interest nor sweetness for +him. As he sped through the long, wet grass, heedless of the rain +pelting on his uncovered head, he felt more wretched than he had ever +done in his life before. He had to wade ankle-deep to the bridge, but +fortunately did not encounter a living soul all the way to the +parsonage. Miss Goldthwaite was sewing in the parlour window, and +looked up in amazement to see a drenched, bareheaded boy coming up +the garden path. + +"Why, Tom, it can't be you, is it?" she exclaimed when she opened the +door. "What is it? Nobody ill at Thankful Rest, I hope." + +"No," said Tom. "It's only me; I want to see Mr. Goldthwaite." + +"He has just gone out, but will not be many minutes," said Miss +Goldthwaite, more amazed than ever. "Come in and get dried, and take +tea with me; I was just thinking to have it alone." + +Looking at Miss Goldthwaite in her dainty gray dress and spotless +lace collar and blue ribbons, Tom began to realize that he had done a +foolish thing coming to the parsonage to bother her with his soaking +garments. He would have run off, but Miss Carrie prevented him by +pulling him into the lobby and closing the door. Then she made him +come to the kitchen and remove his boots and jacket. "I have not a +coat to fit, so you'll need to sit in a shawl," laughed she; and the +sound was so infectious that, miserable though he was, Tom laughed +too. Miss Carrie knew perfectly there was a reason for his coming, +and that it would come out by-and-by without asking. So it did. They +had finished tea, and Tom was sitting on a stool at the fire just +opposite Miss Goldthwaite. There had been silence for a little while. + +"I had a frightful row with Aunt Hepsy this afternoon, Miss +Goldthwaite." + +"I am very sorry to hear it," answered she very gravely. "What was it +about?" + +Then the whole story came out; and then Miss Carrie folded up her +work, and bent her sweet eyes on the boy's downcast, sorrowful face. +"I am not going to lecture you, Tom," she said soberly. "But I am +sorry my brave soldier should have been such a coward to-day." + +Tom flung up his head a little proudly. "I am not a coward, Miss +Goldthwaite." + +"Yes, Tom; you remember how Jesus stood all the buffeting and cruelty +of his persecutors, when he could so easily have smitten them all to +death if he had willed. Compare your petty trials with his, and think +how weak you have been." + +Tom was silent. "When my temper is up, Miss Goldthwaite," he said at +length, "I don't care for anything or anybody, except to get it out +somehow. I was keeping so straight, too; I hadn't once answered back +to Uncle Josh or Aunt Hepsy for weeks. It's no use trying to be +good." + +"No use? Why, Tom, if everybody gave up at the first stumble, what +would become of the world, do you think? Our life, you know, is +nothing but falling and rising again, and will be till we reach the +land where all these trials are over. Keep up a brave heart. Begin +again, and keep a double watch over self." + +"I feel as if it would be easy enough to do it when I'm talking to +you or Mr. Goldthwaite, but at home it is different. I shall never be +able to get on with them though I live a hundred years. And O Miss +Goldthwaite, you don't know how I want to go on drawing and painting. +I feel as if I could die sometimes because I can't." + +"When the time comes, dear; and it will come sooner, perhaps, than +you think," said Miss Carrie hopefully. "You will prize it all the +more because of this sharp discipline. Do your duty like a man, and +believe me, God will reward you for it one day." + +"I will try, Miss Goldthwaite," said Tom with a new great earnestness +of face and voice. + +"Now," said Miss Carrie then, with a quick, bright smile, "I'm going +to send you home. I don't mean to tell my brother anything about your +visit. Our talk is to be a secret. He would be so grieved that you +have come to grief again through that tongue of yours. And I hope it +will be a long time before its master loses hold of the bridle +again." She went with him to the kitchen and helped him to dress, and +then opened the door for him. "Now, Tom, you are to go home and tell +your aunt you are sorry for what happened this afternoon; because you +should not have spoken as you did. And remember, Tom, that a +soldier's first duty is obedience." And without giving him a chance +to demur, she nodded good-bye and ran into the house. + +It was raining heavily still, but that Tom did not mind; he was +wondering how to frame his apology to his aunt, and how she would +receive it. + +It was dark when he reached Thankful Rest, and the kitchen door was +barred. He knocked twice, and was answered at last by Aunt Hepsy, who +looked visibly relieved. Feeling that if he waited till he was in the +light his courage would flee, he said hurriedly,-- + +"I've been to the parsonage, Aunt Hepsy, and I want to tell you I'm +sorry I drew the picture and spoke to you as I did. If you'll forgive +me this time I won't be so rude again." + +Aunt Hepsy looked slightly amazed. "Dear me, boy, I am thankful to +see ye home again; ye've gev Lucy a fever almost. See an' don't do it +again, that's all." And that was all Tom ever heard about the +afternoon's explosion. + + + +VII. + +THE RED HOUSE. + +Judge Keane's place was a mile out of Pendlepoint. It was in the +opposite direction from Thankful Rest, and stood within its own +extensive grounds, at the base of the Peak. The house was built a +little way up the slope, and commanded a magnificent view of the +great plain and the river, whose silver thread was visible long after +all other objects receded from view. You have made the acquaintance +of the judge already; let us accompany Mr. Goldthwaite and his sister +to the Red House on a mild October evening, and make friends with the +rest of the family. When the minister and his sister were ushered +into Mrs. Keane's drawing-room, its only occupants were that lady and +her two daughters, Alice and Minnie. The former was a tall, stately +young lady, like her father, stiff and reserved to strangers, but +much liked by her friends, among whom Carrie Goldthwaite was the +chief. Minnie Keane was a bright-eyed, curly-haired maiden of +fifteen, wild as an antelope, and as full of fun and frolic as any +one of her pet kittens. Their mother was an invalid, seldom able to +leave her couch;--not a fretful invalid, you must understand, but a +sweet, gentle, unselfish woman, who bore her pain and weakness +without a murmur, so that those she loved might be spared pain on her +account. Mr. Goldthwaite often said that Mrs. Keane's life was the +best sermon he had ever come across; and I think he was right. The +brother and sister received a warm welcome. Miss Keane and Carrie +withdrew to the wide window for a private chat, while Mr. Goldthwaite +remained by Mrs. Keane's sofa. He was an especial favourite of hers. +Minnie disappeared, and ere long Judge Keane and his second son, +George, appeared in the drawing-room. It is not necessary for me to +describe Mr. George Keane, except to say that he was his father's +right hand, and the greatest comfort of his mother's life; and that +is saying a great deal, isn't it? When he came in Alice found +something to do at her mother's couch, and her seat in the window did +not long remain unoccupied. There was quite a hum of conversation in +the room, and then when candles were brought in, and the curtains +drawn, Miss Keane said with a smile,-- + +"We have not had our pilgrimage up the Peak this fall. If we don't +have it soon it will be too late." + +"Frank and I were talking of it yesterday," said Carrie Goldthwaite. +"The days are so pleasant, why not have it this week or beginning of +next?" + +"Well," said Judge Keane, "settle the day when you are at it; I was +beginning to think our annual excursion was to be forgotten this +fall." + +"This is Thursday, and to-morrow is my class day at Pendlepoint," +said Miss Keane. "Saturday won't suit you, Mr. Goldthwaite?" + +"Monday would be better," admitted Frank. + +"Then Monday be it," said the judge. "We will start at twelve, and +luncheon at the summit at one." + +"And, O papa, mayn't the big waggon go?" pleaded Minnie. "I want to +take Mopsy and Ted and Silver Tail." + +"And all the live stock on the place, little one," laughed her +father. "What do you say, Mr. Goldthwaite? Minnie thinks the kittens +would enjoy the view immensely." + +"The suggestion about the big waggon is opportune," said Mr. George +Keane. "Last year some of the ladies would not have objected to a +seat in it before we reached the top." + +"Some of the gentlemen, too," said Alice Keane with a sly smile. "I +propose the big waggon for faint-hearted climbers, and the little one +for rugs and provisions." + +"I am going to make a petition, Judge Keane," said Carrie +Goldthwaite. "I have two little friends who would enjoy the excursion +as much as any of us, and they have not much enjoyment in their +lives. I mean those orphan children at Thankful Rest. Will you let +them come?" + +"With all my heart; no need to ask, my dear," said the judge +heartily; "and we will do our best to make them enjoy themselves." + +"Thank you, Judge Keane," said Carrie, and her face wore the +expression the old man liked particularly to see there. + +"I see them in church regularly," said Miss Keane. "The girl is a +remarkably pretty child. Robert was quite charmed with her face when +he was here a fortnight ago. I believe he was thinking what a study +she was for a picture instead of listening to you, Mr. Goldthwaite." + +"I scarcely think it, Miss Keane," answered Frank smiling. "At least +he took me to task severely afterwards about a remark in my sermon +which he did not approve." + +"Orphans, did you say, Carrie?" asked Mrs. Keane gently. "Was their +mother Deacon Strong's youngest daughter Hetty?" + +"The same, Mrs. Keane," answered Carrie. "And she must have been very +different from her brother and sister, for the children have been +evidently trained by a refined and cultured mind. Lucy is a perfect +lady, child though she is." + +"I feel very much interested," said Mrs. Keane. + +"I knew their mother slightly, and liked her much. Could you not +bring the children to see me some day?" + +"I shall try, Mrs. Keane; but it is not an easy task begging a +favour from Miss Hepsy, and she seems determined to keep them at +home. I have to take Lucy by main force when I want her at the +parsonage." + +"I hope they'll come, anyway," put in Minnie, "because I never have +anybody to speak to. One grows tired, even of the Peak, when there's +nobody but grown-up people to go on to. That's why I want Mopsy and +Ted and Silver Tail. It wouldn't be so lonesome. But they can stay at +home if Lucy comes." + +"Poor Minnie," said her father, laughing with the rest at the child's +aggrieved tone. "We must do all we can to persuade them, then, to +spare you the necessity of frightening the cats out of their wits." + +"I'll go up to Thankful Rest to-morrow and extract permission from +Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, "though I am not very hopeful of the +result.--Come, Frank, we must be off; it is nearly eight." + +"You will let us know on Sunday, then, if they can come," said Miss +Keane; and with cordial good-nights the friends parted. + +Early next afternoon Miss Goldthwaite walked up to Thankful Rest on +her mission to Miss Hepsy. That lady was making preserves, for which +Lucy had been kept since early morning paring and coring apples and +stoning plums. As Miss Goldthwaite passed the kitchen window, she +caught a glimpse of a slight figure almost lost in a huge apron, and +a very white, weary-looking face bent over the basket of fruit. Aunt +Hepsy was grimly stirring a panful of plums over the stove, and did +not look particularly overjoyed to see Miss Goldthwaite; but Lucy +did. + +"Always busy, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie briskly, not choosing to mind +the snappy greeting she received. "I declare I always feel a lazy, +good-for-nothing creature when I come to Thankful Rest.--Here, Lucy +child, sit down and let me do your work while I am here; you look +tired." + +The quiet eyes raised themselves in loving gratitude to the sweet +face, and she was not slow to avail herself of the chance of a +moment's rest. Miss Hepsy sniffed, but made no audible demur. + +"What splendid fruit, Miss Hepsy!" said the visitor after a moment's +silence; "I have seen none like it in Pendlepoint this fall." + +"It's well enough," said Miss Hepsy, a little mollified. "Your folks +all well, Miss Goldthwaite?" + +"Thank you, yes; and papa and mamma are coming from New York next +week, if the weather keeps fine. I can hardly sleep or eat for joy, +Miss Hepsy; and Frank is almost as bad." + +"You be like children about your father and mother yet," said Miss +Hepsy brusquely. "I reckon you'd better not marry in Pendlepoint, or +there'll be an end to your goin' home any more." + +Carrie laughed. + +"I don't see why it should come to an end then, Miss Hepsy," she +said. "Even married people get a holiday sometimes." + +"I guess they don't see many o' them," replied Miss Hepsy. "I think +you're a fool to marry, anyway, Miss Goldthwaite, when the parson +thinks such a heap of you." + +Carrie laughed again, more amused than ever. + +"Talking of holidays, Miss Hepsy," she said, "I want you to give this +patient little maiden one, and Tom too." + +"Not if I know it," answered Miss Hepsy promptly. + +"Oh yes you will," said Miss Goldthwaite serenely. "We are to have a +picnic up the Peak on Monday, in Judge Keane's waggon. I've set my +heart on Lucy and Tom, and half a day is nothing." + +"It makes 'em idle and restless for days, Miss Goldthwaite," said +Aunt Hepsy, with grim decision, "an' I ain't a-goin' to have it, so +let it a be." + +Miss Goldthwaite held her peace a moment, and then went straight up +to Aunt Hepsy, and, to Lucy's amazement, laid her two hands on her +shoulders and looked into her face with laughing eyes. "Do you know +you are the most disagreeable woman in the township, Miss Hepsy, and +that there isn't another would be so cross with me as you are? I'll +come up and pare apples for two whole days if you'll let me have Lucy +and Tom. Look me in the face and refuse me if you dare." + +Miss Hepsy actually smiled. "I never saw sech a cretur," she said. +"Ye'd move the very Peak wi' them eyes o' your'n. I'm real sorry for +Mr. George Keane, anyway. Well, have yer own way, and go off home. +You're only hinderin' my work, and I hain't a minute to lose." + +"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, with a very eloquent glance of +her irresistible eyes.--"Now, Lucy," said she then, turning to the +child, "come down to the parsonage on Monday morning at eleven, you +and Tom, and we will go up to the Red House together. Good-bye, dear; +the fresh air up the Peak will brighten that white face, I hope. +Don't forget, now." + +"Forget! O Miss Carrie," was all she said, but her eyes were very dim +as she returned her kiss. Lucy had been feeling peculiarly sad and +down-hearted, and Miss Goldthwaite had come and brought with her the +sunshine which seemed to follow her everywhere. + +Then Carrie bade Miss Hepsy good-bye, and went away. Looking about +her as she went through the garden, she espied Tom painting waggon +wheels in the yard. A few steps took her to the boy's side, and he +looked up with a glad smile of surprise. + +"Busy too, Tom," she said pleasantly. "I don't think this place +should be called Thankful Rest. Nobody seems to take a rest here. How +do you like this work?" + +"Don't ask me, Miss Goldthwaite," said the lad. "You remember you +told me to make the best of it; but it isn't easy." + +"It will grow easy by-and-by," she said, and laid her hand a moment +on his arm, and her beautiful eyes grew grave and earnest. "Does my +soldier find his Captain able to help even in dark hours?" + +"Yes, Miss Goldthwaite." That was all, but it was said so simply and +earnestly that Carrie's heart grew glad. + +"We are to have a picnic up the Peak on Monday in Judge Keane's +waggon," said she after a moment. "Your aunt has promised to let you +and Lucy come. Will you like it?" + +"Like it! Up the Peak! O Miss Goldthwaite," said the boy, looking +away to the towering hill beyond, "I have wished I could go every day +since I came. How good you are to Lucy and me!" + +"She will tell you when to be ready. In the meantime I must go," said +Miss Goldthwaite with her pleasant smile. "Good-bye, and success to +the waggon-painting." + + + +VIII. + +UP THE PEAK. + +Tom and Lucy Hurst peered anxiously out of their chamber windows at +six o'clock on Monday morning to see a clear, calm, beautiful sky, +with a faint roseate flush in the east, where, by-and-by, the sun +would come up brilliantly. Aunt Hepsy was as cross as two sticks, and +Uncle Josh morose and taciturn; but even these things failed to damp +their spirits, and at a quarter to eleven they set off, a very happy +pair, across the meadow to the parsonage. Both looked well. Lucy's +mourning, though simple and inexpensive, was wonderfully becoming; +and some fine delicate lace, which had been her mother's, relieved +the sombre black dress nicely. Miss Goldthwaite was very proud of her +friends, and told them so when she greeted them. They were just in +time, and the four set off, Tom in front with Miss Goldthwaite, and +Lucy walking with the minister. She was shy and quiet, but somehow +nobody could be long afraid of Mr. Goldthwaite. He possessed his +sister's charm of manner, and drew Lucy on to talk in spite of +herself. At the Red House there was a great bustle. The big waggon +was at the front door, and the little one at the back, into which the +cook was stowing all sorts of eatables. Minnie Keane, in a state of +great excitement, was flying about with a tiny kitten in each arm, +the mother following at her heels mewing piteously for her children +to be left in safety. Minnie dropped the kittens when she saw the +party from the parsonage coming round the avenue, and ran to meet +them. Miss Goldthwaite made the introductions, and then she and Mr. +Goldthwaite passed into the house, leaving the children beside the +waggon. There was but a moment's shyness, and then the irrepressible +Minnie's tongue began to go freely. + +"You look nice, Lucy," she said frankly. "I guess we'll have a good +time to-day. There always is a good time when papa takes us +anywhere." + +"This is a nice horse," said Tom, feeling he must say something. +"What's his name?" + +"Oh, that's Billy. He's very old, and rather cross. You should see +papa's Beauty. Come to the stable and I'll show you her." + +She drew Lucy's arm within her own and darted off, Tom following. +Minnie was quite at home in the stable, and familiar with every +animal in it. Beauty pricked up her ears and whinnied at the touch of +Minnie's caressing fingers. + +"You ask Miss Goldthwaite about Beauty," she said. "She thinks there +isn't another horse like her in the world.--Don't you love horses, +Lucy?" + +"Yes; I love all animals," replied Lucy. "I saw some nice little +kittens round there." + +"Yes; I've three. We'd better go round now, I think; perhaps they'll +want to be going.--I'm glad it's a fine day; aren't you, Tom?" + +"I think I am. I looked out at six this morning to see if it was. +It'll be glorious up the Peak." + +As the three came round to the front door again, Miss Keane appeared +on the threshold. She looked very tall and stately and awe-inspiring +with her trailing dress and eye-glass. Yet her smile as she shook +hands with the children was so pleasant that Lucy forgot to be afraid +of her. + +"My mother would like to see you, Tom and Lucy," she said. "Will you +come upstairs? she is not able to leave the room, you know.--Minnie, +I wish you would look round for papa. It is just twelve; we should be +going." + +Minnie scampered off, and Tom and Lucy followed Miss Keane up the +broad staircase into the drawing-room, the beauty of which held them +spellbound for a few minutes. On a couch near the fire lay a lady, +with gray hair and a pale, thin, worn face, which wore such an +expression of peace and happiness that Lucy felt her heart go out to +her at once. Mr. and Miss Goldthwaite and George Keane were there +also. Mrs. Keane held out both her hands, and the two came shyly +forward--Tom blushing a little to be among so many strangers. + +"I am glad to see you, my dears," she said very heartily.--"Kiss me, +Lucy. I knew your mother, dear. You remind me of her very much." + +The ready tears sprang to Lucy's eyes. Kindness always moved her +thus, and she took a stool close to the couch, while Tom's eyes +wandered round the room, lingering hungrily on the exquisite +water-colours on the walls. It was long since he had had such an +opportunity. At Thankful Rest the art collection consisted of a few +family portraits, ludicrous alike in execution and in colouring. A +smile and a glance passed from Mr. Goldthwaite to his sister as they +noted how speedily the boy became absorbed. + +"These are my brother Robert's drawings," said Miss Keane, touching +his arm and beckoning him to come nearer. "You are fond of painting, +I think?" + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Tom, his face flushing a little. "And these +are so beautiful, I could not help looking at them." + +"If you will come up to the Red House some other day, I shall show +you all my brother's sketch-books and odd drawings," said Miss Keane. +"I am very fond of the work myself, and might perhaps be able to help +you a little, you know, and I think you would make a clever pupil; +what do you say?" + +The eyes behind the glasses beamed so kindly at him that Tom forgot +that his first impression of her had been unpleasant, and a warm +flush of gratitude answered her better than his words. They were few +and sad enough. + +"There is nothing I should like so much in the world, ma'am, and I +thank you very much; but I can't come--my uncle and aunt would not +let me." + +"I must see about that," said Miss Keane promptly; and at that moment +Judge Keane's stately figure appeared in the doorway. + +"Are you going to sit there all day, you young folk?" he called out +hastily.--"Oh, here you are, little ones;--glad to see you, my lad;" +and he gave Tom's hand a warm grasp, and touched Lucy's white face +with his forefinger. + +"Want some roses there, doesn't she, wife?" he said. "There'll be a +glorious air up the Peak to-day, it will bring them there, if +anything will." + +"I wish you could have come, dear Mrs. Keane," whispered Carrie as +she bent a moment over the couch before they passed out; "you used to +be the very sunshine of us all." + +"I think of you, dear, and am happy in my own way at home," she +replied with her sweet smile; "take care of yourself and of this pale +little maiden.--Lucy dear, good-bye. Come and see me again." + +"Indeed I will, if I can, ma'am," replied Lucy earnestly; and then +they all went away. Minnie was already in the big waggon waiting +impatiently for the start. + +"You will go inside too, little one, I suppose," said the judge to +Lucy; and with one swing of his strong arms he placed her beside +Minnie. "The rest of us will walk a piece, I fancy. As this is +supposed to be a climbing expedition, we must make some show, at +least, to begin with." + +There was a general laugh, and Tom and Lucy thought there could not +be so pleasant an old gentleman as Judge Keane anywhere. + +Miss Keane elected Tom for her cavalier, and made him feel very +important indeed, by treating him as if he were quite a man; and they +got into a very interesting talk about the great painters and their +work. She was astonished to find what a thorough knowledge the boy +had of the subject, and how well he could talk on what interested him +most. + +"Robert must see this young artist," was her mental comment. The +judge followed behind with Mr. Goldthwaite; while Mr. George Keane +and Miss Goldthwaite brought up the rear, walking very slowly, and +talking very earnestly. Nobody took any notice of them whatever, +evidently being of opinion that they were quite capable of amusing +each other. The waggon-path, winding gradually up the mountain side, +was rough and stony, and even Billy's cautious feet stumbled +sometimes; and the two girls were jolted so that they laughed till +they cried. + +"I think we'd better get out; don't you, Lucy?" cried Minnie at last, +"else there'll be none of us left to see the top of the Peak. I never +was so sore in my life. Isn't it fun though?" + +"Yes; and the sun is so bright, and everybody so kind, and everything +so pleasant, I don't know what to do," said Lucy with softening eyes. +Minnie looked at her curiously. + +"I say, don't you have any good times at your home, Lucy?" she asked +soberly. + +"Sometimes--not very often," answered Lucy reluctantly. + +"I don't think your aunt is a very nice woman anyway," said Minnie +with her usual candour. "She looked at me so one day in church, +'cause I laughed right out at a funny little dog with a stumpy tail +running in and right up to Mr. Goldthwaite. Wouldn't you have laughed +too?" + +"I don't know," said Lucy; "if it was very funny, I daresay I would." + +"How pretty you are," said Minnie after a while; "my sister Alice +says so--I guess she knows." Lucy blushed, not being accustomed to +such plain speaking. "I think Miss Goldthwaite perfectly elegant," +went on the young critic. "She is going to marry my brother George, +do you know?" + +"Is she?" asked Lucy, much interested. + +"Yes; and papa and mamma are crazed about her. Everybody is. Isn't +she just splendid?" + +"There is nobody like her," answered Lucy. Minnie could never know +what she had been and was to her. + +"Lovers are stupid, don't you think?" asked Minnie again. "They +always go away by themselves, and things; you just watch George and +Carrie to-day. It is a great trial to me." + +"What is?" asked Mr. George Keane, pausing at the side of the waggon. +Minnie laughed outright, so did Lucy. + +"It's a secret," replied she in a very dignified way.--"O Miss +Goldthwaite, are you coming into the waggon?" + +"Yes;--will you make room for me, Lucy?" + +Lucy moved further up the cushion, and Mr. George Keane assisted Miss +Goldthwaite to her place. + +"O Carrie, succumbed already!" cried Miss Keane. + +"Won't you come in too?" replied Carrie. + +"No, thank you; I mean to climb to the top. Somebody must sustain the +credit of our sex." + +"I know it's safe in your hands, Alice," said Carrie serenely.--"Lucy +dear, you look happy. Do you enjoy it?" + +The sparkle in Lucy's eyes answered her better than any words. + +The road was becoming rougher and steeper, and Billy's progress +slower and slower, and the summit of the Peak drawing nearer and +nearer. Miss Keane and Tom had got ahead of the waggon, and were the +first to reach the top. At last Billy, with a great pull, brought the +waggon to the level ground, and then stood still. They all alighted, +and, forming a little circle, stood drinking in the beauty of the +scene. Wondering how Tom would be affected, Miss Keane turned to +speak to him, but he had gone; and looking round, she saw him +standing by a huge boulder, but his face was turned away, and +understanding why he felt it best to be alone for a few minutes, she +did not venture to disturb him. It was a panorama of wonderful +beauty. They seemed to stand up among the clouds, the air was so pure +and cool and bracing. Far beneath, the houses of the town looked like +a tiny ant-nest, enveloped in a filmy haze. The great plain stretched +around for miles and miles, dotted here and there by many a pretty +homestead, and intersected by the winding river, glinting and +glistening in the sun as it hurried on and on to join the far-off +sea. Far across the plain the smoke of distant cities obscured the +horizon, but none of the noise or bustle was borne on the breeze to +this lonely mountain peak. A great silence fell upon the little +company, and some bright eyes grew dim as they looked upon the beauty +of the world the great Creator had made. + +"Just say a few words of prayer, Frank," said the judge at length, in +a soft voice; "it will do us all good, I think." Mr. Goldthwaite took +off his hat reverently. + +"Our Father, we thank thee for this day. We thank thee for sparing us +all to come here again; and for the sunshine, and the beauty, and the +gladness of the earth. Help us more and more to feel the power and +majesty of thy hand, and the great love of thy infinite heart. Be +with every one of us to-day, blessing us as only thou canst bless, +and help us to live to thy glory; for Jesus' sake. Amen." + +"Amen," repeated Judge Keane. "Now we can begin the day with a better +heart than ever." + + + +IX. + +A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED. + +It was great fun unpacking the baskets, and Tom made himself very +useful to the ladies; so much so, that Miss Goldthwaite felt +constrained to whisper one word of praise in his ear, which sent a +glow to his heart. Surely never was meal so enjoyed as that lunch on +the summit of Pendle Peak; and they lingered so long over it, that +Judge Keane passed a great many jokes on the gigantic appetites, and +professed great concern about the small quantity of provisions left +for tea. When plates and forks and knives were stowed in the waggon +again, the party broke up in twos and threes, and went off exploring. +Lucy was tired, and said she would remain beside the goods and +chattels, whereupon the judge declared he would keep her company. Mr. +George and Miss Goldthwaite went off together to search for ferns, +they said; while Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom went to +the ravine on the other side of the Peak to find some rare specimens +of wild flowers Miss Keane was anxious to secure for her collection. +The judge was to whistle at four o'clock, if they had not then +returned; and promised to have tea ready, which was considered a +great joke. Lucy sat on the smooth green turf, leaning against a +boulder, feasting her eyes on the beauty, of which she thought her +eyes could never tire. The judge lay on the grass with half-closed +eyes, looking at the girl's sweet face, wondering why it looked older +and sadder and more womanly than it ought. It was a good while before +either spoke. + +"Would you mind telling me, Judge Keane, please," said Lucy timidly, +"where Newhaven lies from here, and how far it is?" + +The judge raised himself on his elbow, put on his gold eye-glass, and +looked along the plain. "There, straight as the crow flies, little +one," he said, pointing west. "It is about thirty miles in a direct +line from where we sit; by rail about fifty, I think." + +"It is a long way," she said, and a little sigh followed, as if she +wished it nearer. + +"You lived in Newhaven, I think, didn't you?" asked the judge. + +"Yes, sir, till mamma died. It is not a nice place, but I love it +dearly." + +Ay, for a quiet grave there held the loved father and mother who had +once made for her a happy home. + +The judge did not speak, he did not know what to say just then, and +Lucy did not seem to expect an answer. He shut his eyes again, and +there was a long silence. Thinking he slept, Lucy rose, and, gently +laying a rug over him, slipped away. He opened his eyes directly and +watched her. She only moved a few yards from him, and knelt down with +her face to the west. He heard a few faltering words, followed by a +sob--"O dear papa and mamma, I wonder if you can see Tom and me +to-day, and know how happy we are. God bless the dear friends who +have made us so, for Christ's sake. Amen." + +The judge's lips twitched beneath his mustache, and when Lucy rose +again, he drew the rug up over his face, not wishing her to see that +he had heard that little prayer. But he never forgot it. Two hours +did not take long to slip away, and then the judge sat up and looked +at Lucy with a comical smile. + +"It is ten minutes to four, little one, and there isn't a sign of the +wanderers. Suppose you and I make tea: do you think we could manage +it between us?" + +"Oh yes, sir; I know how to build a fire, and make tea too, and there +are sticks in the waggon. May I try?" + +"Of course, and I'll help to the best of my limited ability." + +Lucy went to the waggon and got out sticks and the kettle, while the +judge made an amateur stove between four stones. Lucy then laid the +fire, and in a minute there was quite a cheerful little blaze. Water +was the next thing, and the judge remembered there used to be a tiny +spring a few yards down the slope, which was found without any +difficulty; and he brought back the kettle filled, and placed it on +the fire. He had so many odd remarks to make about his new +occupation, that Lucy was kept laughing pretty nearly all the time. +It was getting on for five o'clock before four heads appeared at the +edge of the slope. Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom +arrived laden with flowers and ferns, and reported themselves +exhausted, and thankful to see that tea was ready. George and Carrie +had not been seen since they departed at two o'clock." + +"You made tea all by yourself, Lucy," said Miss Keane, laying her +kind hand on Lucy's sunny head. "Clever little maiden, how are we to +thank you?" + +"Judge Keane helped me, Miss Alice," replied Lucy blushing and +smiling. + +"Helped! I should think I did," said the judge tragically: "she sat +on the waggon like a queen, and commanded me like a slave. She looks +meek and mild enough, but don't trust her." + +"Papa, how much nonsense do you talk in a day?" she said. "I wish the +other two would turn up; I'm famished." + +"Are we to wait on them, papa?" inquired Minnie piteously. "I guess +they don't want any tea: lovers never want anything to eat. Mayn't +we have it now?" + +"Yes," said Miss Keane.--"Lucy dear, may I trouble you for the +teapot.--Papa, hand the sugar, and make yourself useful." + +"What a real nice boy your brother Tom is," said Minnie Keane, +dropping down by Lucy's side. "We had a splendid time down there, +while Alice and Mr. Goldthwaite talked out of books. Aren't you very +fond of him?" + +"Of Tom? Of course I am," answered Lucy; "you know I have nobody but +him, and he has nobody but me." + +"Lucy, your tea is delightful," said Mr. Goldthwaite from the other +side of the table-cloth. "I don't know when I enjoyed anything so +well." + +"Hunger is good sauce," said the judge;--"here are the truants." Mr. +George Keane and Miss Goldthwaite appeared now, apparently very much +astonished to find themselves behind time. The judge made room for +Carrie beside himself, and after looking blankly at her for a few +minutes, said solemnly, "I thought I heard you say you wanted ferns; +but I must have been mistaken, or possibly they haven't come up in +the glen this year.--Some tea here, Alice.--Miss Goldthwaite, may I +help you to a piece of cake?" The truants joined in the laugh against +themselves, and the rest of the meal was passed in a perfect babel of +talking. + +"What shall we do now, papa?" said Alice when they had finished. "We +won't be going home for a little while." + +The judge looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes past five: we shall +start at six. Well, I propose that each member of the company +composes, within the space of ten minutes, four lines of verse +descriptive of the scenery. I have brought pencils and paper; and the +best writer shall have my gold pencil-case to him or her self." + +There was a general exclamation, and each one declared it impossible +to perform such a feat. + +"Try," said the judge briefly; and he passed round the pencils and +the sheets of paper. Then he laid his watch on the cloth, and gave +the signal. You would have laughed at the utter stillness then, and +at the perplexity on each face. Slowly the hands moved round, till +the ten minutes were up, and the judge cried halt. + +"You read then, judge," said Mr. Goldthwaite; "begin with your own." + +"Well, here I am," said the judge with a very comical smile, and he +read slowly and distinctly:-- + + "It seems to me that if you go + Enjoyment for to seek, + You'll find out all you want and more + Up here on Pendle Peak." + +A shout of laughter greeted this effusion, and the judge pretended to +be highly offended. + +"I object to the 'for' in the second line," said Mr. Goldthwaite. + +"Do you think I don't know it has no business there?" said the judge. +"But I couldn't get it to rhyme, so I was obliged to put in +something. It is not bad for an old fellow who never made two lines +rhyme before in his life. Come then, Frank, pass up yours." + + "To read a page from Nature's book, + In this deep solitude, + Uplifts the heart in purer aims, + And leads us nearer God." + +"True, Frank," said the judge solemnly. "You have beaten me hollow +anyway.--Now, Carrie." + +"Mine is very poor indeed, Judge Keane," said Carrie, as she passed +up her slip. "Like yours it is my first attempt." + + "The beauty of the hills, + So calm, so free, so bright, + Can dim my eyes with tears, + And fill me with delight." + +"Very good" was the verdict; and then Miss Keane reluctantly gave up +her paper. + + "How still it is! No rude discord + Falls on the ear; + We feel all earthly thoughts and aims + Must vanish here." + +That also was pronounced "very good," and Judge Keane feared he +should have some difficulty in adjudicating the prize. Mr. George +Keane's was the next. + + "I never wrote a poem, but since + You will not be refused, + I do declare I don't know how, + And beg to be excused." + +"You have no chance anyway, George," said his father, laughing with +the rest. "It has not the remotest reference to the subject in +hand.--Well, Lucy." + +"Mine last, please," pleaded Lucy. + +So the judge took the paper from Minnie's hand and read,-- + + "Papa, you know I can't make verse, + And it was very bad + Of you to make us play at this,-- + I tell you I'm real mad." + +There was another shout at Minnie's performance, and then Lucy +timidly slipped her paper into the judge's hand, and drew back behind +Minnie. The judge read very slowly this time, and every beautiful +word was distinctly heard. + + "The calm, still brightness on the hills, + The beauty on the plain, + Fill all my heart with strange sweet joy, + That is akin to pain. + + "We stand upon a stepping-stone + Up to the Better Land; + I seem to see the glory there, + And feel my Father's hand. + + "And hovering near me seem to be + The loved ones gone before; + One day we'll mount God's stepping-stones, + And weep earth's tears no more." + +There was a moment's surprised silence. All eyes were turned to Lucy, +who shrank further back with a very distressed face. + +"The prize is yours, Lucy," said Judge Keane at length.--"Who would +have thought this shy little maiden was the poet of the company?" + +There were many other remarks made, which seemed to distress Lucy so +much that they held their peace at length, and the judge remembered +Tom's contribution had not been called for. + +"You thought you were to escape, young man," said he, as he received +the paper from Tom's reluctant hand. "Perhaps the last may be best +yet, who knows? Well, I never--ha! ha!" + +He held up the paper, and lo, a sketch of the circle of anxious +faces, with paper and pencil before them, and every expression true +to the life. It was wonderfully well done, and created much amusement +as it was handed round the company. + +"The pencil-case is Lucy's," said the judge. "But I think you deserve +a special prize, my lad. Will you let me keep this? Robert must see +it." + +"Yes, sir, of course," answered Tom. "When I felt a pencil in my hand +I had to draw. I always feel so." + +"True artist; eh, Carrie?" whispered the judge, and she nodded +assent. She had not yet recovered from the surprise Lucy had given +her. + +"The sun is thinking of setting," said the judge then. "We must be +preparing to depart." + +There was a general move, and Miss Keane and Miss Goldthwaite +proceeded to clear the table. + +"Let us sit here and see the sun set, and have a talk, Lucy," said +Minnie, drawing Lucy a little apart. "What a perfectly elegant poem +that was you wrote. It's 'most as good as Whittier's George reads to +mamma sometimes. I guess you'll grow up to be a Mrs. Whittier." + +"Oh no," said Lucy, laughing a little; "Miss Keane's was just as +good, I think, only I wrote more. How funny yours was." + +"I should think so. Mopsy, or Ted, or Silver Tail could do just as +well, I believe.--Tom, won't you draw me a picture of my very own to +keep? I wish you'd come up and do the kittens; won't you? I ask +Robert every time he comes, but he just teases me." + +"I'll draw a kitten for you if you like," answered Tom readily, "but +I can't promise to come up and do it." + +Before very long Billy was harnessed again, and after bidding a +reluctant good-bye to the Peak for another year, the descent was +begun. Lucy walked part of the way with Mr. George Keane's arm to +help her along, and Miss Goldthwaite beckoned Tom to her side. + +"I haven't seen much of you to-day, Tom," she said pleasantly. "Have +you had a nice day?" + +"I shall never forget it, Miss Goldthwaite," answered Tom very +gravely. + +And though after years brought many happy excursions up the Peak, +never was one so exquisitely enjoyed as this had been. The sun had +dropped behind the hill when the tired party reached the Red House, +and a big moon was coming up serenely in the opal sky. Mr. and Miss +Goldthwaite paused at the avenue gate, saying they would not come any +further; so the good-nights were said there and the company +separated. + +"Good-night, my little poetess," whispered the judge as he lifted +Lucy from the waggon. "Go on writing, my dear; we will hear of you +yet." And he kissed her as he set her to the ground, and added +softly, "You have done an old man good to-day though you did not know +it." + +It was a very quiet walk home by the river-side to the parsonage, but +the thoughts were all pleasant ones. Mr. Goldthwaite had not spoken +much to Lucy all day, but he had watched her, how closely she did not +know. He held her hand at parting, and looked straight into her +beautiful eyes, his own very grave and earnest. + +"God bless you, Lucy; good-night." She wondered a little at the +oddness of his manner. "My soldier has shown to advantage to-day," +said Miss Carrie, smiling as she shook hands with Tom. "I have been +very proud of him." + +"Lucy," said Tom, as they turned into the paddock at Thankful Rest, +"do you know what I'm going to do when I'm a man?" + +"Be a great painter," answered Lucy promptly. "What else?" + +"Anything else?" inquired she in much surprise. + +"I'm going to marry Miss Goldthwaite!" + +Lucy laughed outright. + +"You can't, Tom; she's going to marry Mr. George Keane, Minnie told +me." + +"Is she? Well, Mr. George Keane is a very good fellow," said Tom in a +tone which would have infinitely amused that gentleman had he heard +it; "but he isn't half good enough for her.--O Lucy, hasn't this been +a day?" + +"Yes," answered Lucy, and she turned full eyes up to the quiet sky. +"I think papa and mamma must see us, and be glad we have been happy." + +"I feel so too," answered Tom with the sudden beautiful earnestness +which had often come to him of late.--"Kiss me, Lucy; there are only +you and I." + +She put her arm about his neck, and kissed him as he wished; then the +two went very soberly into the house. + + + +X. + +ON THE LAKE. + +On the first morning of November the summit of the Peak was draped in +white, and a slight sprinkling of snow sparkled on the plain. Frost +was hard enough to freeze the duck-pond and the horse-trough. Winter +had begun. It was very cold; Lucy shivered over her dressing every +morning in her little attic chamber, and had just to work to get +warm, as Aunt Hepsy permitted no sitting over the stove. Tom had to +turn out of doors at six every morning, and feed a score of cattle +before breakfast, and woe betide him if the work was not done up to +Uncle Josh's mark. Uncle Josh had a vocabulary of his own, from which +he selected many an epithet to bestow on Tom! Sometimes yet the quick +temper would fly up, and there would be a war of words; but the lad's +strong striving was beginning to bear its fruit, and he found it +daily easier to keep hold of the bridle, as Miss Goldthwaite termed +it. Keziah had been dismissed also, and Lucy's burden was sometimes +more than she could bear. Miss Hepsy refused to see what others +saw--that the girl was overwrought; and her feelings had been blunted +so long, that only a very sharp shock would bring them into use +again. And the time had not come yet. For more highly favoured young +folks than Tom and Lucy Hurst, these frosty days brought innumerable +enjoyments in their train--skating and sleighing by daylight and +moonlight, evening parties, and all sorts of frolics. There were gay +times at the Red House, especially when in Christmas week Mr. Robert +Keane came home, bringing with him two school-boy cousins from +Philadelphia. Miss Alice Keane called at Thankful Rest on her pony, +one morning, to ask Tom and Lucy to a Christmas-eve gathering. The +invitation was curtly declined by Miss Hepsy, and she was dismissed +with such scant courtesy that she departed very indignant indeed. + +"What a woman that is at Thankful Rest," she said to Miss Goldthwaite +when she called at the parsonage. "I almost forgot myself, Carrie, +and nearly gave her a few rude words. I am truly sorry for those poor +children." + +"Well you may be," answered Carrie with a sigh, knowing better than +Alice what their life was. + +Only one half-holiday was vouchsafed to them at Miss Goldthwaite's +earnest entreaty, and they took tea at the parsonage, after which the +party went up to the Red House pond to see the skating there. They +were very warmly welcomed--Minnie, especially, being quite overjoyed +to see Lucy again. + +"Do you skate, Tom?" asked Miss Keane, coming up breathless after a +long run down the lake. + +"Yes, Miss Keane. But I have no skates; they were left at home--in +Newhaven, I mean." + +"Here, Minnie, my pet, run to the house and bring out a couple of +pairs. You will find them in George's room, I think; and tell Robert +_I_ want him on the lake." + +Minnie ran off obediently. Pretty soon Mr. George Keane and the two +cousins appeared round the bend, and Miss Keane introduced the latter +to Tom. They did not take long to become acquainted, and were soon +talking quite familiarly. They stood waiting till Minnie returned, +her brother with her, carrying the skates. He was a tall, slight +young man, rather like Miss Keane; and his face looked a trifle stern +at first, as hers did, but that wore off when you got to know him. + +"This is Tom Hurst I told you of, Robert," said Miss Keane; and Tom +shook hands with him reverentially, remembering he was the great +painter all America was talking of. + +"I'm glad to see you," said Mr. Robert Keane frankly. "Let us get on +our skates, and you and I shall take a run together. I haven't been +on the ice this season." + +Tom sat down and quickly put on his skates, and the pair set off, +keeping close together. Miss Keane turned to Mr. Goldthwaite with a +smile. "Robert is interested already. I want him to do something for +Tom, and I think he will." + +"He will not regret it," answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "They are all off +now but we two, Miss Keane; come, we must not be behind." + +"My sister tells me you would like to be a painter, Tom," said Mr. +Robert Keane, when they had gone a hundred yards in silence. + +"Yes, sir," answered Tom, wishing to say a great deal more, but +unable to utter more than two words. + +"What would you say to go back to Philadelphia, and let me look after +your training?" + +"O Mr. Keane!" Tom stood still on the ice and lifted incredulous eyes +to his companion's face. There was a smile there, but the eyes were +sincere enough. + +"I see you would like it. Don't stand; we can talk while we go. Well, +my boy, there is a great deal of hard work, patient plodding, +uninteresting study to be gone through, and as many failures and +tumbles as days in the year, before you reach even the first step of +the ladder. Do you think you could go through it?" + +"I would go through anything, Mr. Keane, and toil for twenty years, +if need be, only to be allowed to work at it. Do you know, it is life +to me even to think of it." + +Robert Keane glanced curiously at the lad. His face was kindling with +emotion, and his eyes shone like stars. + +"All right, my boy; you're the right stuff, I see. Leave it with me; +I'll fix it right enough. And you'll go to Philadelphia as sure as my +name's Keane. No need to thank me. Let your future success be my +reward, if I need any. Let us try a race back; you're a splendid +skater." + +They turned, and sped along the ice at lightning speed, and Tom came +in a dozen yards in front at the farther side. + +"Ahead of me," laughed Mr. Keane. "Is that an omen of the future, +Tom?" + +Miss Goldthwaite noted the boy's flushed, happy face and bright eyes, +and concluded Mr. Robert Keane must have wrought the change. She +turned to remark upon it to Alice, when a hand touched her arm, and +Tom's voice said eagerly, "Will you skate with me, Miss Goldthwaite? +I want to speak to you." She nodded smilingly and gave him her hand. + +"O Miss Goldthwaite," said Tom in a great burst of happiness, "Mr. +Robert Keane says he will take me to Philadelphia with him, and help +me to be a painter." + +"I guessed he would," said Carrie. "I am very glad of it, Tom. Do you +remember what I said about this joy coming in God's good time?" + +"I have not forgotten, Miss Goldthwaite." + +She stopped on the ice, and laid her slim hand a moment on his +shoulder. "My soldier will remember his Captain still, I hope, in +those happier days, and work for Him with double energy because they +are happier." + +The moonlight showed trembling drops in the boy's earnest eyes as he +answered reverently--"I will never forget how good He has been to me, +Miss Goldthwaite, when I so little deserved it." + +"That is right, my boy; I am not afraid of you," she said heartily. +"Here we are round the bend. How lovely that moonlight shines through +these gloomy pines. Let us go right to the end before we turn." + +They set off again along the smooth sheet of ice, and as they neared +the farther end of the lake Miss Goldthwaite turned aside to explore +an opening between the trees. A moment more and Tom heard a crash, +followed by a faint scream. He looked round, to see the edge of Miss +Goldthwaite's fur cloak disappearing through a huge fissure in the +ice! He had presence of mind to utter one wild, despairing cry, which +re-echoed far off in the lonely pine wood, and then he plunged after +her and caught her dress. Superhuman strength seemed to come to him +in that moment of desperate peril, and he managed to keep, hold of +her with one hand, and with the other cling to the broken edge of +ice. It seemed hours before the ring of skates and the sound of +voices announced help at hand, and his numbed fingers relaxed their +hold of the ice just as Robert Keane and his brother's strong arms +bent down to rescue them. He still had hold of Miss Goldthwaite, and +two minutes sufficed to extricate them both. They were unconscious, +and Carrie's sweet face was so deathly white that a mighty fear took +hold of all present. Alice Keane knelt down and laid her hand to her +heart. "Thank God," she uttered tremulously, and it was fervently +re-echoed by every lip. They were borne to the Red House with great +speed, and restoratives being applied, both rallied in a very short +time. Miss Goldthwaite's first question was for Tom, as his had been +for her; and she whispered to them faintly that he had saved her life +at the risk of his own. When Tom looked round, after a while, it was +to find the judge and Mr. George Keane standing by his bed. + +"God bless you, my lad," said the old man huskily. "You have saved +our pretty flower. All Pendlepoint will thank you for this." + +And Mr. George bent over him, his honest gray eyes dim with tears. "I +owe my wife's life to you, Tom, my boy. As long as I live I shall +never forget this." + +A message was despatched to Thankful Rest reporting the accident, and +saying the children would remain till next day, at least, at the Red +House. Mr. Goldthwaite also remained. His words of thanks to Tom were +few: he was too deeply moved to speak, but Tom was quick to +understand. Next morning Miss Goldthwaite was able to appear at the +breakfast table, looking a little paler than usual, but apparently +not much the worse of her ducking. Dr. Gair forbade Tom to get up +till noon, so Carrie herself took up his breakfast-tray. He looked +surprised and greatly relieved to see her, and tried to make light of +what he had done. + +"It is nothing," he said. "I would gladly do fifty times more for +you." + +"We are bound more closely together now," she said. "I owe my life to +you." And bending over him she kissed him, and slipped away, leaving +him very happy indeed. + +In the evening he came down to the drawing-room, where he was treated +as a hero. Everybody made so much of him that he began to feel +uncomfortable, and took refuge at last with Mr. Robert Keane, who +good-naturedly showed him the sketch-book he had filled in Europe, +and explained everything to him, as if he found pleasure in it. And +he did find pleasure, for Tom was an enthusiastic listener. + +No inquiry had come from Thankful Rest, which had astonished Mrs. +Keane very much. She thought they would be sure to feel anxious about +Tom's recovery. She did not know Joshua Strong and his sister. The +following morning Dr. Gair said Tom might go home as soon as he +liked; so Miss Alice drove him and Lucy to Thankful Rest in the +course of the forenoon. Miss Hepsy was plucking chickens for the +market, and tossed up her head when her nephew and niece appeared +before her. + +"I wonder you'd come back at all after livin' so long among gentle +folk. It'll be a long time, I reckon, afore ye get the chance to jump +through the ice after Miss Goldthwaite or any other miss.--Here, +Lucy, get off yer hat, and lend a hand wi' them chickens.--You'll +find plenty wood in the shed, boy, waitin' to be chopped, if yer +uncle hain't anything else for ye to do. Off ye go." + +The contrast between the happy circle they had left and their own +home was so painful that Lucy's tears fell fast as she went to do her +aunt's bidding. And Tom departed to the wood-shed with a very +downcast and rebellious heart. + + + +XI. + +HOPES FULFILLED. + +On the afternoon of the following day Mr. Goldthwaite came to +Thankful Rest, accompanied by Mr. Robert Keane. Lucy opened the door +to them; and seeing a stranger with the parson, her aunt shouted to +her to show them into the sitting-room. It was a chill and gloomy +place, though painfully clean and tidy--utterly destitute of comfort. +Lucy shut the door upon them, and went back to tell her aunt that the +stranger was Mr. Robert Keane. + +"What's their business here, I'd like to know?" she said as she +whisked off her white apron and smoothed her hair beneath her cap. + +Lucy knew, but discreetly held her peace. Miss Hepsy stalked across +the passage and into the sitting-room, her looks asking as plainly as +any words what they wanted. + +"This is Mr. Robert Keane, Miss Strong," said the minister. "He wants +to see you and your brother, I think, on a little business." + +Miss Hepsy elevated her eyebrows, and shook hands with Mr. Keane in +silence. + +"Josh is in the barn. I s'pose I'd better send for him," she said. + +And Mr. Keane answered courteously--"If you please." + +She opened the door and called to Lucy to run to the barn for her +uncle. + +"Yes, Aunt Hepsy," answered Lucy, her sweet, clear tones contrasting +strongly with her aunt's unpleasant voice. + +"Miss Goldthwaite's all right again, eh?" she asked, sitting down +near the door. + +"I am thankful to say my sister is none the worse of her adventure," +answered Mr. Goldthwaite. "But for Tom's bravery the consequences +might have been more serious." + +"H'm, I told him it would be a precious long time afore he got on the +ice again to be laid up, botherin' strange folks, an' I guess I'll +keep my word." + +"You must not be so hard on him, Miss Strong," said the minister. "He +is a very fine lad, and tries very hard to please you, I know." + +Aunt Hepsy remained silent. + +"What a pretty place you have, Miss Strong," said Mr. Keane's +pleasant, well-modulated voice. "The Peak shows splendidly from this +window." + +"The place aren't no great thing, sir," said Miss Hepsy.--"Here's +Josh." She opened the door, and Uncle Josh appeared on the threshold +in his working garb, grimy and dust-stained, as he had come from +repairing the mill. He pulled his hair to the minister, and bowed +awkwardly to Mr. Keane. + +"Sit down, Josh," said Miss Hepsy, but Josh preferred to stand. There +was just a moment's constrained silence. + +"I have called to see you, Mr. Strong," said Robert Keane, plunging +into the subject without further delay, "about your nephew Tom. He is +very anxious to become a painter, I find. Would you have any +objections to me putting him in the way of life to which his desire +and talent point him?" + +"Has the ungrateful little brat been carrying his grumbling among you +folks?" said Miss Hepsy wrathfully. + +"Be quiet, Hepsy," said Joshua Strong very imperatively. + +"I don't quite understand you, sir," he said to Mr. Keane. "I can't +afford to send the boy anywhere to learn anything, if ye mean that. +He'll never do no good on a farm, for sartin; but he kin work for his +livin' here, an' that's all I kin do for 'im." + +"I am a painter myself," said Mr. Keane, guessing they were unaware +of the fact, and now wishing to state his intentions as briefly and +plainly as possible; "and from what I have seen of your nephew I +believe his talent for art to be very great indeed. What I mean is +this: give him up to me; I will take him back to Philadelphia, and +take entire care of his training. It will not cost you a farthing, +Mr. Strong. Do you understand?" + +"We're poor folks, but we don't take charity even for Hetty's +children," said Miss Hepsy pointedly. "We've never been offered it +afore." + +Mr. Keane might have waxed angry at the impertinent remark. He was +only inwardly amused. "It is not charity, Miss Strong," he said +good-humouredly. "I expect Tom will be able to repay anything he may +cost me. I hope you will not stand in the lad's way. He is a born +artist, and will never do good in any other sphere.--Come, Mr. +Strong, say yes, and let us shake hands over the bargain." + +It was proof of the rare delicacy of Robert Keane's nature that he +put the matter in the light of a favour to himself. Mr. Goldthwaite +admired and honoured his friend at that moment more than he had ever +done before. + +Aunt Hepsy preserved a rigid and unbending silence. + +Uncle Josh stood twirling his thumbs reflectively. It was to cost him +nothing, not a farthing; and he would be rid of the bother the +hot-headed youngster was to him. But for his sister he would have +granted a ready assent. + +"Wal, Hepsy?" he said in an inquiring tone. + +"You're the master, Josh, I reckon. Do as ye please. It's all one to +me;" and to their amazement she flounced out of the room and banged +the door behind her. + +"I'm much obleeged to you, Mr. Keane," said Josh, finding his tongue +in a marvellously short time. "I've no objections. As I said afore, +he's an idle, peart young 'un; no good at farm work. I hope yell be +able to make a better job o' him than I've done." + +"I am not afraid," said Mr. Robert Keane. "And I am obliged to you +for granting my request. Can I see Tom?" + +"I reckon you may," said Uncle Josh slowly. "Wal, I'll be off to that +plaguy mill. Good-day to you.--My respects to Miss Goldthwaite, +parson." Once more Uncle Josh pulled his forelock, and shambled out +of the room. + +"It doesn't cause them much concern anyway," said Mr. Keane when the +door closed. "They are a bright pair; I should be afraid of that +woman myself. How that mite of a girl stands it I don't know." + +Before Mr. Goldthwaite had time to answer, the door opened, and a +very eager, excited-looking boy appeared on the threshold. + +"Well, Tom, my boy," said Mr. Keane, holding out his hand, "the +bargain's sealed. You belong to me now." + +"Has Uncle Josh--has Aunt Hepsy said I might?" he said breathlessly. +"Oh, it is too good to be true!" + +"True enough," said Mr. Keane, laughing at the lad's manner.--"Please +assure him of it, Mr. Goldthwaite." + +Mr. Goldthwaite laid his hand on the lad's shoulder, and bent his +grave eyes on his beaming face. "I congratulate you," he said +heartily. "And I hope that by-and-by all Pendlepoint will be proud of +the name of Tom Hurst." + +Tom drew his hand across his eyes. "I can't help it, sir," he said +apologetically. "But if you knew how much I've wished for this and +dreamed of it.--Oh, I feel I can never be grateful enough to you, Mr. +Keane!" + +"Nonsense," said Mr. Keane. "Well, we must be going. Show us the way +out, will you, Tom? Your aunt has deserted us. I don't leave for a +fortnight yet. I shall see you again in a day or two." + +Aunt Hepsy, however, had not altogether forgotten the duties of +hospitality, and now reappeared and asked them to stay to tea. Her +face had cleared a little, and she seemed to regret her previous +rudeness. Her invitation, however, was courteously declined. + +"You're here, I see, Tom," she said severely. "Well, I hope you're +properly grateful to Mr. Keane for doing so much for you. An' I hope +ye'll mend yer ways, an' be a better boy than ye've been." + +"I am very grateful, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom very quietly. "And I will +try to be what you say." + +Something in his face and eyes touched even Aunt Hepsy, and it came +upon her very suddenly to wonder if she had not treated him a little +unjustly. "He's a biddable cretur, too," she said to Mr. Keane. "An' +p'raps he'll take more kindly to your kind o' life than ours. I don't +think much o' them useless ways o' livin' myself, but there's +differences." + +"Some day perhaps, Miss Strong, when Tom comes back a great man," +laughed Mr. Keane, as he shook hands with her and Tom, "you'll admit +you've changed your mind. If you do I'll come along and have a good +laugh at you." + +A smile actually appeared on Miss Hepsy's face. "He's a real +pleasant-spoken gentleman, Mr. Robert Keane," said Aunt Hepsy, as she +shut the door.--"Well, Tom, I hope ye'll get yer fill o' paintin' +now." + +Tom's eyes beamed, but he made no verbal reply. Lucy followed him to +the door as he passed out to the barn again. + +"O Tom, I am so glad," she whispered joyfully; and Tom answered by +tossing his cap in the air and trying to bound up after it. + +"Glad? I don't know whether I'm on my head or my heels, Lucy," he +said. "It's the happiest day of my life." + +Lucy kept the smile upon her face, not wishing to damp his joy, but +her heart was very sore. For what did Tom's departure mean for her? +It meant parting from all she had on earth; it meant a life of utter +loneliness and lovelessness, save for the dear outside friends she +could see so seldom. It was Lucy's nature ever to unselfishly bury +her own troubles and try to join in the happiness of others. + +"A fortnight only," she said to herself as she went back to her work. +"What will become of me?" + +The days sped fleetly for her, but slowly for Tom, who was eager to +be gone. Mr. Robert Keane paid frequent visits to Thankful Rest, and +all arrangements were satisfactorily made. Lucy went about, saying +little, and preserving her sweet serenity to the last. She busied +herself with Tom's small wardrobe, adding a touch here and there to +make it complete; and wept bitter tears over her work, as many +another sister has done before and since. It was not till the last +night that a thought of her came to cloud Tom's sky. They were +sitting together at the stove in the fading twilight, Lucy's face +very grave and sad. + +"I say Lucy, though," Tom said, "how awfully lonely it will be for +you when I'm gone. Why, whatever will you _do_?" + +"Think of you, and look for your letters," she said, her lips +quivering. "You will not forget me altogether, Tom?" + +A pang of remorse shot through Tom's heart. He came to her side and +threw one arm round her, remembering how his mother's last charge had +been to take care of Lucy, and how poorly he had done it after all. +Lucy had taken care of him instead. + +"Lucy, I'm a perfectly horrid boy," he said in a queer, quick way. +"Don't you hate me?" + +"Hate you? O Tom, I've nobody but you." + +Her sunny head drooped a moment against his arm, and her tears fell +without restraint. "I didn't mean to, Tom," she said at last, looking +up with a faint smile, "but I couldn't help it. I feel dreadful to +think of you going away." + +"When I'm a man, Lucy," he said manfully, "what a perfectly stunning +little home you and I shall have together. It won't be so long--why, +I'm thirteen." + +"Only about ten or twelve years," said Lucy, able to laugh now. "I +shall be gray-haired long before that time." + +"You! why, you'll be the same as you are at fifty. You are like +mamma; she never grew any older-looking. You must write often, mind, +Lucy, and tell me all about everything and everybody." + +Lucy promised, and, feeling very sad again, rose to light the lamp in +case she should break down. Aunt Hepsy was wonderfully kind that +night--she could be kind sometimes if she liked--and, altogether, the +evening passed pleasantly. Tom went to bed early, as they were to +start by the morning train. Lucy followed almost immediately. About +half-an-hour afterwards Aunt Hepsy went upstairs to put a forgotten +article into Tom's trunk, and was arrested by sounds in Lucy's room. +The door was a little ajar, and Aunt Hepsy peered in. Lucy was +undressed and sitting at the window, her arms on the dressing-table, +and her whole frame shaking with sobs. Once or twice Aunt Hepsy heard +the word "Mamma." The passion of grief and longing in the girl's +voice made something come into Aunt Hepsy's throat, and she slipped +noiselessly downstairs. + +"I don't feel easy in my mind, Josh," she said when she re-entered +the kitchen. "I'm feared we've been rayther hard on Hetty's children. +She never did us any harm." + +"Did I say she did, Hepsy?" asked Uncle Josh, serenely puffing away +at his pipe. "You was allus the worst at her and at the children. Ye +put upon that Lucy in a perfectly awful way." + +"Shut up," said Miss Hepsy in a tone which admitted of no further +remark, and the subject dropped. + +There was a great bustle in the morning, and before Lucy had time to +think about anything Tom had kissed her for the last time, and the +waggon drove away. He waved his handkerchief to her till they were +out of sight; and then she went back to the house sad and pale and +cheerless. + +"I guess you needn't fly round much to-day, Lucy," said Aunt Hepsy +with unusual thoughtfulness. "Ye don't look very spry, and feel down +a bit. Never mind, he ain't away for ever." + +"Thank you, Aunt Hepsy," said Lucy gently. "I'd rather work, if you +please. It takes up my mind better. Let me wash these dishes." + +Aunt Hepsy surmised the tears were kept for the loneliness of her own +chamber. She was right. Only to her mother's God did Lucy Hurst pour +out all her grief, and from Him sought the help and comfort none can +give so well as He. + + + +XII. + +WEARY DAYS. + +The unusual softening of heart and manner visible in Aunt Hepsy at +the time of Tom's departure disappeared before the lapse of many +days. You see, she had gone on in the old, sour, cross-grained way so +long, she felt most at home in it. She did not _feel_ unkindly +towards gentle, patient Lucy; but her manner was so ungracious, and +her words so sharp, you will not wonder that Lucy could not read +beneath the surface. She was very quiet, very sober, and very +listless; striving, too, to do her duties as well as aforetime, but +lacking physical strength. Tom's letters, frequent and full of hope +and happiness, were the chief solace of the girl's lonely life. Mr. +and Miss Goldthwaite came sometimes yet to Thankful Rest; but these +were family visits, and Lucy had few opportunities of quiet talk with +her friends. Many invitations had come from the Red House, but to +each and all Aunt Hepsy returned a peremptory refusal. + +"I'm not going to have her learn to fly round for ever at folks' +houses. She has plenty to do at home, and she'll do it, you take my +word for it. Tell Judge Keane's folks I'm mighty obliged to them, but +Lucy can't come. Let that be an end of it." So she said to Miss +Goldthwaite one day; and she carried the message, slightly modified, +to Mrs. Keane. So the days and weeks slipped away, till Winter had to +hide his diminished head before the harbingers of Spring. In the +closing days of March the ice broke up on the river, and all nature +seemed to spring to life again. Green blades and tiny blossoms began +to peep above ground, and the birds sang their songs of gladness on +the budding boughs. It was a busy time at Thankful Rest, both indoors +and out. In the first week of April began that awful revolution, Miss +Hepsy Strong's spring-cleaning. It was her boast that she could +accomplish in one week what other housewives could accomplish only in +three. For every half-idle hour Lucy had enjoyed during the winter +she had to atone now; for Aunt Hepsy kept her sweeping, and scouring, +and dusting, and trotting upstairs and down, till the girl's strength +almost failed her. She did not complain, however, and Aunt Hepsy was +too much absorbed to see that her powers were overtaxed. The cleaning +was triumphantly concluded on Saturday night, and Lucy crept away +early to bed, but was unable to sleep from fatigue. She came +downstairs next morning so wan and white that Aunt Hepsy feared she +was going to turn sick on her hands. But Lucy said she was well +enough, and would go to church as usual. Thinking she looked really +ill, Miss Goldthwaite came round to the porch after the service. + +"Lucy, what is it, child? your face is quite white. Do you feel well +enough?" + +Lucy smiled a little, and slipping her hand through Miss +Goldthwaite's arm, walked with her down the path. + +"This has been cleaning week," she said in explanation, "and I have +had more to do than usual. I daresay I'll be all right now." + +But Miss Goldthwaite did not feel satisfied, and said so to her +brother at the tea-table that night. + +"I'm going up to Thankful Rest, Frank, to tell Miss Hepsy to be +careful of Lucy. It is time somebody told her; she grows so thin, +and, I notice, eats nothing." + +Mr. Goldthwaite's anxiety exceeded his sister's, if that were +possible, but he said very little. Accordingly, next afternoon Miss +Goldthwaite betook herself to Thankful Rest. Finding the garden gate +locked, she went round by the back, and in the yard encountered Lucy +bending under the weight of two pails of water. She set them down on +beholding Miss Goldthwaite; and Carrie noticed that her hand was +pressed to her side, and that her breath came very fast. + +"You are not fit to carry these, Lucy," said she very gravely. "Is +there nobody but you?" + +"I have been washing some curtains and things to-day, Miss +Goldthwaite, and Aunt Hepsy thinks the water from the spring in the +low meadow better for rinsing them in." + +"Does she?" said Miss Goldthwaite, and her sweet lips closed together +more sternly than Lucy had ever seen them do before. + +Lucy passed into the wash-house with her pails, and Miss Goldthwaite +went into the house without knocking. Miss Hepsy was making +buckwheats, and greeted her visitor pleasantly enough. She sat down +in the window, turned her eyes on Miss Hepsy's face, and said +bluntly,-- + +"I'm going to say something which will likely vex you, Miss Hepsy, +but I can't help it. I've been wanting to say it this long time." + +Miss Hepsy did not look surprised, or even curious, she only said +calmly,-- + +"It wouldn't be the first time you've vexed me, Miss Goldthwaite, by +a long chalk." + +"It's about Lucy, Miss Hepsy," continued Miss Goldthwaite. "Can't you +see she's hardly fit to do a hand's turn at work? I met her out there +carrying a load she was no more fit to carry than that kitten." + +"Ain't she?" inquired Miss Hepsy quite unmoved. "What else?" + +"There she is; I see her through the door. Look at her, and _see_ if +she is well. If she doesn't get rest and that speedily, she'll go +into a decline, as sure as I sit here. I had a sister," said Carrie +with a half sob, "who died of decline, and she looked exactly as Lucy +does." + +Miss Hepsy walked from the dresser to the stove and back again before +she spoke. "When did you find out, Miss Goldthwaite, that Hepsy +Strong could not mind her own affairs and her own folks?" + +It was said in Miss Hepsy's most disagreeable manner, which was very +disagreeable indeed; but Miss Goldthwaite did not intend to be +disconcerted so soon. + +"You have a kind heart, I know, Miss Hepsy, though you show it so +seldom. You must know Lucy's value by this time, and if you haven't +learned to love her, I don't know what you are made of. Be gentle +with her, Miss Hepsy; she is very young--and she has no mother." + +Miss Hepsy's temper was up, and she heard the gentle pleading +unmoved. + +"Ye've meddled a good deal wi' me, Miss Goldthwaite," she said +slowly, "and I've never told ye to mind yer own business before, but +I tell ye now. An' though ye are the parson's sister, ye say things I +can't stand. Ye'd better be goin'; an' ye needn't come to Thankful +Rest again till ye can let me an' my concerns alone." + +Miss Goldthwaite rose at once, not angry, only grieved and +disappointed. + +"Good-bye, then, Miss Hepsy. It was only my love for Lucy made me +speak. I'm sorry I've offended you. She is a dear, good girl. Some +day, perhaps, you will be sorry you did not listen to my words," she +said, and went away. + +Not many words, good or bad, did Aunt Hepsy speak in the house that +night. Lucy, busy with her mending, wondered what had passed that +afternoon that Miss Goldthwaite's stay had been so brief. Aunt +Hepsy's eyes rested keenly on Lucy's pale, sweet face more than once, +and she was forced to admit that it was paler and thinner and more +worn-looking than it need be. But she hardened her heart, and refused +to obey its more kindly promptings. A few more days went by. Lucy +grew weaker, and flagged in her work; and Aunt Hepsy watched her, and +_would not_ be the first to take needful steps. On Sunday morning +Lucy did not come downstairs at the usual time, and even the +clattering of breakfast dishes failed to bring her. At length Aunt +Hepsy went upstairs. Lucy was still in bed. + +"Are you sick, child?" said Aunt Hepsy in a strange quick voice. + +Lucy answered very feebly,--"I'm afraid I'm goin' to be, Aunt Hepsy. +I tried to get up, but I couldn't; and I haven't slept any all +night." + +"Where do you feel ill?" + +"All over," said the girl wearily. "I've felt so for a long time, but +I tried to go about. Are you angry because I'm going to be sick, Aunt +Hepsy? It'll be a bother to you; but perhaps I'm going to mamma." + +"Do you want to kill me outright, Lucy?" said her aunt; and even in +her weakness Lucy opened her eyes wide in surprise. "If you speak +about goin' to yer ma again," she said, "ye will kill me. Ye've got +to lie there an' get better as fast as you like. I'll send for Dr. +Gair, an' nurse ye night and day." + +Aunt Hepsy could have said a great deal more, but a something in her +throat prevented her. She went downstairs immediately, and despatched +the boy for Dr. Gair. During his absence, she endeavoured to induce +Lucy to take some breakfast, but in vain. + +"I'm real sick, Aunt Hepsy," she said. "Just let me lie still. I +don't want anything but just to be quiet." + +Within the hour Dr. Gair came to Thankful Rest, for Miss Hepsy's +message had been urgent. He was an old man, blunt-mannered, but truly +tenderhearted, and a great favourite in the township. He had not been +once at Thankful Rest since Deacon Strong's death, for neither the +brother nor sister had ever had a day's illness in their lives. He +made his examination of Lucy in a few minutes, and Miss Hepsy watched +with a sinking heart how very grave his face was when he turned to +her. He had few questions to ask, and these Lucy answered as simply +as she could. + +"Am I going to be very sick, Dr. Gair?" said Lucy. + +"Yes, my dear; but please God, we may pull you through," said the old +man softly. "In the meantime I can't do much; I'll look in again in +the afternoon." + +Miss Hepsy followed him in silence down the stairs, and he drew on +his gloves in the lobby without speaking. + +"This is a case of gross neglect, Miss Strong," he said at length. +"The girl's delicate frame is thoroughly exhausted by over-fatigue +and want of attention." + +"Tell me something I don't know, Dr. Gair," said she sharply. + +"And if she recovers, of which I am more than doubtful," he continued +sternly, "it is to be hoped you will turn over a new leaf in your +treatment of her. I am a plain man, Miss Strong, not given to gilding +a bitter pill. If your niece dies, you may take home the blame to +yourself. Good morning." + +"I know all that, my good man, better than you can tell me," said +Aunt Hepsy grimly. "You do your best to bring her round, an' I won't +forget it. I've been a wicked woman, Dr. Gair, an' I s'pose the +Lord's goin' to punish me now; an' he couldn't have chosen a surer +way than by sending sickness to Lucy. Good morning." + +Aunt Hepsy shut the door, and went into the kitchen. There Joshua sat +anxiously awaiting the doctor's verdict. + +"There ain't much hope, Josh," she said briefly. + +"Ain't there, Hepsy? It's a bad job for the little 'un." + +"An' for more than her, I reckon," returned his sister shortly. "I've +lived one and forty years at Thankful Rest, Josh, an' I never felt as +I do this day. I'd a mighty deal rather be sick myself than see the +child's white face. If she gets round, I'll be a better woman, with +the Lord's help. How He's borne with me so long's a marvel I can't +comprehend. One and forty years, Josh Strong, and Lucy jes' fifteen. +She's done a deal more good in one day o' her life than you or me +ever did in all ours. The Lord forgive us, Josh, an' help us to make +a better use o' what's left. Jes' step down to Pendlepoint, will ye, +an' ask the parson an' his sister up. I guess Lucy'd be pleased to +see 'em. One an' forty years, dear, dear; an' Lucy jes' fifteen." + +Aunt Hepsy went out wiping her eyes, and stole upstairs again to +Lucy. + + + +XIII. + +LUCY FINDS THE KEY. + +For several days a great shadow lay on Thankful Rest while Lucy +hovered between life and death. Everything human care and skill could +suggest was done, and the issue was in God's hands. Miss Goldthwaite +had come up to Thankful Rest on Sunday, and had stayed, because Lucy +seemed to be happier when she was by. Callers were innumerable, and a +messenger came from the Red House every morning asking a bulletin. +What Aunt Hepsy suffered during those days I do not suppose anybody +ever guessed. It was her way to hide her feelings always, but she +would sit or stand looking at the sick girl with eyes which ought to +have brought her back to health. Uncle Josh was in and out fifty +times a day, and things outside were allowed to manage themselves; +all interest centred in the little attic chamber and its suffering +occupant. She lay in a kind of stupor most part of the day, only +moaning at times with the pain Dr. Gair was powerless to relieve. She +grew perceptibly weaker, and they feared to leave her a moment, lest +she should slip away while they were gone. So the days went by till +Sunday came round again. Dr. Gair came early that morning, and +looked, if possible, graver than usual. + +"If she lives till evening," he said to the anxious watchers, "she +will recover, but I cannot give you much hope. Administer this +medicine every two hours; it is all I can do. I will be back before +night." + +In after years Aunt Hepsy was wont to say that Sunday was the longest +day she had ever spent in her life. I think others felt so too. +Slowly the hours went round. Even into the darkened room the spring +sunshine would peep, and the twittering of the birds in the orchard +broke the oppressive stillness. At four o'clock the doctor came +again. Save for the almost imperceptible breathing, Lucy lay so pale +and still that they almost thought her dead. At sunset she moved +uneasily, and with a great sigh lifted her heavy lids and looked +round the room. A sob burst from Aunt Hepsy's lips, and Carrie +Goldthwaite's tears fell fast, for Dr. Gair's face said she was +saved. Her lips moved, and he bent down to catch the faintly murmured +words,-- + +"Have I been sick a long time? I am going to get well now." + +The doctor nodded and smiled. "God has been very good to you--to us +all--my child," he said. "He has heard the prayers of those who love +you." + +Carrie came to the bedside then, and bending over her, kissed her +once with streaming eyes. Aunt Hepsy moved to the window and drew up +the blind, and the red glow of the setting sun crept into the room, +and lay bright and beautiful on Lucy's face. + +"I am glad to see the sun again," said Lucy wearily. "I seem to have +been sick so long. May I go to sleep now, Dr. Gair?" + +"Yes; and sleep a week if you like," he said cheerily.--"Rest and +care now, Miss Strong, is all she needs to bring her round." + +Aunt Hepsy made no reply whatever. She stood still in the window, her +face softened into a strange, thankful tenderness, and her heart +lifting itself up in gratitude to God, and in many an earnest +resolution for the future. She followed Dr. Gair downstairs, as she +had done that day a week before, and as he passed out caught his hand +in a grip of iron. "I'm a woman of few words, Dr. Gair," she said +abruptly, "but I won't forget what you've done for me an' mine." + +"God first, Miss Strong," said the doctor gravely; and then he added +with an odd little smile, "Lucy's lines will be in pleasant places +now, I fancy?" + +"If they ain't, I'll know the reason why," said she grimly. "Good +evening." + +Lucy's sleep that night was calm and refreshing, and when Dr. Gair +came again in the morning he expressed himself pleased with her +condition. Miss Goldthwaite brought up a breakfast tray with a cup of +weak tea and a piece of toast, of which Lucy was able to eat a little +bit. She had fifty questions to ask; but remembering Dr. Gair's +peremptory orders, Carrie placed a finger on her lips and shook her +head. There would be plenty of time to talk by-and-by, for +convalescence would be a tedious business; in the meantime there was +absolute need of perfect rest. Miss Goldthwaite brought her sewing, +and sat down in the window seat, humming a scrap of song, the outcome +of the gladness of her heart. Lucy lay still in a state of dreamy +happiness, listening to the twittering of the birds mingling with +Carrie's song, and watching the gay April sunbeams dancing among her +golden curls. By-and-by Aunt Hepsy came up, and Lucy looked at her +curiously. She seemed to dimly remember that during the days of the +past week a face like Aunt Hepsy's had bent over her in love and +tenderness, and a voice like hers, only infinitely softer and +gentler, had spoken broken words of grief and prayer at her bedside. +Aunt Hepsy, just yet, did not meet Lucy's wondering eyes, nor speak +any words to her at all. She moved softly about the room, putting +things to rights deftly and silently; but Lucy was sure there was +something different about her. + +Immediately after the early dinner, seeing Lucy so much better, Miss +Goldthwaite bethought herself of her neglected household at +Pendlepoint, and said she would go home, promising to come again +to-morrow. Her eyes were full of tears as she bent over to bid Lucy +good-bye, and she whispered tenderly,-- + +"My darling, what a load I shall lift from anxious hearts at +Pendlepoint to-night. You don't know how dear you are to us all." + +Lucy smiled a little in a happy way; to her heart evidences of love +were very precious. She was left alone for nearly a couple of hours, +while Aunt Hepsy washed up dishes and set things right downstairs she +fell into a light doze, and when she awoke, it was to find Aunt Hepsy +sitting by her side with her knitting. + +"Have I been sleeping, Aunt Hepsy?" she said. "You don't know how +well I feel. I could almost get up, I think." + +Aunt Hepsy laughed a little tremulous laugh. + +"In about a month or so, I guess, you'll begin to think about getting +up," she said; and again something in Aunt Hepsy's face set Lucy +wondering _what_ was different about her. There was a short silence, +then Aunt Hepsy laid down her knitting, and took both Lucy's thin +hands in her firm clasp. "Lucy, do you think ye can ever forgive yer +old aunt?" she said suddenly and quickly. "I've been a cross, +hardhearted old fool, an' the Lord's been better to me than I dared +to hope for. He's heard my prayers, Lucy, an' he knows how hard I +mean to try and make up for the past. If ye'll say ye forgive me, and +try to care a little for me, ye'll maybe find Thankful Rest a +pleasanter place than ye think it now." + +"O Aunt Hepsy, don't say any more," pleaded Lucy, her eyes growing +dim. "I'm so glad I've been sick, because you've learned to love me a +little." + +So the barrier was broken down, and in the ensuing days these two +became very dear to each other; and Lucy grew to understand Aunt +Hepsy, and to see how much good there lay beneath her grim exterior. +The door of Aunt Hepsy's heart had long been locked, and like other +unused things, had grown rusty on its hinges. But Lucy had found the +key, and entered triumphantly at last. + + + +XIV. + +A GREAT CHANGE. + +You will be wondering what Tom had been about during his sister's +illness; but he was still in ignorance of it, his friends thinking it +best to wait till the crisis was past. It fell to Aunt Hepsy's lot to +send the news, and her letter was such a curiosity in its way that I +cannot do better than set it down just as it was. + + "THANKFUL REST, _April 18th, 18--_. + +"MY DEAR NEPHEW,--I daresay you'll wonder to hear from me, an' will +maybe feel skeered; so, to relieve you, I may as well say at once +that Lucy's been sick, very sick, but she's getting round nicely now, +thank the Lord. She is in bed yet, and I'm writing this beside her. +She sends her love, and says she'll write to-morrow. I guess I'll let +her do it in about a month. I want to ask you to forgive me for being +so hard on you when you lived here. I hope you don't bear your old +aunt any grudge. Lucy, God bless her, won't hear me abuse myself, so +it's a relief to do it to you, though you are a boy. I keep that +picter you drew of me that I slapped you for, an' I'll look at it +when I feel my pesky temper gettin' up. I suppose ye'll be so took up +with your paintin' ye couldn't never think of coming back to Thankful +Rest. It wouldn't be good for you, if you're getting on any way with +Mr. Robert Keane. But you'll come right away in summer, an' see what +a different place Lucy has made of Thankful Rest, an' how precious +she is to your uncle an' me. I guess she's one of the Lord's +messengers, sent to do what all the preachin' in the world couldn't. +I reckon I'll finish up. It has took me an hour to write this, I'm so +slow with the pen. Give my respects to Mr. Robert Keane; and when he +comes to Thankful Rest in summer, maybe he'll get a better welcome +than he got before. So no more at present. From your affectionate +aunt, + + "HEPSEY" + +That letter reached Boston Avenue in the evening, when Tom was poring +over a book of instructions for young artists. He was in his own +sanctum, which Mr. Keane had given him when he came--a tiny apartment +next the artist's studio, and commanding from its window the finest +view in Philadelphia. Tom seized the letter from the servant's hand. +He had written twice to Lucy, and was anxiously wondering at her +delay in answering, for Lucy had always been a faithful and punctual +correspondent. + +You would have laughed had you seen the varying expressions on Tom's +face as he read Aunt Hepsy's epistle;--concern at first to hear Lucy +was ill; relief to find her recovering; and, last of all, mute, +dumfoundered amazement at Aunt Hepsy. + +Mr. Keane opened his studio by-and-by and looked out. + +"Well, Tom, news from Lucy at last, my boy?" he asked. + +"No, sir," said Tom soberly, yet with an odd twinkle in his eye; and +then he held out the open letter, saying simply, "Read that, Mr. +Keane." + +Mr. Keane smiled too as he read. "Lucy has conquered, as I thought +she would," he said. "See, Tom, what an influence a meek, gentle, +loving spirit like Lucy's has in the world. You and I with our fiery +tempers sink into nothingness beside her." + +"You, Mr. Keane!" echoed Tom in amazement. "I don't think you have a +temper at all." + +"Haven't I?" The artist's smile grew sad. "There was a boy once who +was expelled from three schools for impertinence and insubordination, +and put his parents to the expense of keeping a tutor for him at +home. That tutor, Tom, was a man of splendid talents, which his +delicate health forbade him to exercise as he desired. His pupil +killed him, Tom; the worry and anxiety lest he should not come up to +the parents' expectation, combined with what he had to bear from the +boy himself, broke his health down, and he died. That boy was _me_." + +Tom sat wondering, while Mr. Keane, walking to and fro, continued +slowly--"I went to see him when he was dying, in his poor lodging: he +was very poor, you must understand, but nobody durst offer him +anything, lest he should feel hurt or insulted. As long as I live, +Tom, I shall never forget that night. I saw then clearly how wicked I +had been, and how what I thought manly independence befitting my +station was only the cowardice of a spirit as far beneath his as +earth is beneath heaven. That was a lesson I never forgot; and since +that night I have tried, with God's help, to use the legacy he left +me." + +"What was it?" asked Tom breathlessly. + +Mr. Keane lifted Lucy's Bible from the side-table, and turning over +the pages held it out to Tom, his finger pointing to the place. + +"Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth." + +"Tom," said Mr. Keane one morning a few days later, "I believe you +are going to Pendlepoint tomorrow?" + +"What?" Tom nearly bounded off his chair. The longing to go home to +Lucy for a day or two had well-nigh overcome him since Aunt Hepsy's +letter came; but he had tried to stifle it, and had applied himself +with double energy to his studies. + +"If you don't wish to go, of course I have no more to say," began Mr. +Keane; but Tom interrupted him-- + +"O sir, you don't mean me to go home for good and all, I hope; have I +disappointed you? I have tried so hard, sir." + +"Stop, stop!" cried Mr. Keane. "Wait till I hint at such a thing. You +have surpassed my expectations, my boy. I thought you would like to +see your sister, but if I am mistaken--" + +"I do want to go, sir; I would give the world almost to see +her--but--" + +"Well?" + +"The expense, sir," Tom ventured to say, encouraged by his kind +friend's manner. "It is a long journey, and I have cost you so much +already." + +"Nonsense; I am a rich man, Tom. But for all that I expect you to pay +me back some day. You and I will have a great reckoning by-and-by." + +There was a moment's silence. + +"How did you know I wanted to go home, Mr. Keane?" said Tom +by-and-by. + +"I have eyes, my boy," was all Mr. Keane answered, saying nothing of +a note he had received from his sister, which ran thus:-- + + "RED HOUSE, _April 27th_. + +"DEAR ROBERT,--Send Tom to Thankful Rest for a few days. Lucy will +get well twice as fast after she sees him.--Your affectionate sister, + + "ALICE." + +Next morning saw a very happy boy take his place in the train, which +would land him at Pendlepoint in the evening. It was a long, tiresome +journey, especially to an impatient being like Tom. But it came to an +end, as all things pleasant or unpleasant must, and he found himself +at the little old-fashioned depot towards seven o'clock at night. +There was no one to meet him, of course, because no one, not even +Miss Keane, expected him so soon. He ran all the way to the +parsonage, and knocked at the door, only to find Abbie in sole +possession. + +"The parson he be down town, Master Tom," she said, "and Miss Carrie +she be at Thankful Rest. I guess she's there most days till night." + +Tom thanked her and ran off again across the bridge and through the +meadow, not even pausing to look at the cattle, nor to see that Sally +was enjoying an unwonted holiday, and a dainty bite at the tender +young grass, which the mild weather had brought forward very fast. He +paused just a moment outside the orchard fence, and looked at the +house, not a little surprised to feel how glad he was to see it +again, and how dear it was to him after all. Then he pushed open the +gate, went up the path and over the garden fence, and saw Uncle Josh +digging the potato patch. + +"Halloo, Uncle Josh!" he shouted, feeling quite jovial and free +towards him; and Uncle Josh started up and let his spade fall from +his hands. + +"Marcy, younker, whar did ye come from?" was all he could utter. But, +no longer the surly man that he had been, he held out his hand to +him, and looked more than pleased to see him. + +"I came from Philadelphia to see Lucy," answered Tom soberly. "How is +she?" + +"Oh, gettin' along fast; she's in the far parlour these two days, +able to sit up till 'most night. I guess she won't be sot up to see +ye--oh no, not at all." + +There was a twinkle in Uncle Josh's eye, a thing Tom had never seen +before. Surely there _was_ a change at Thankful Rest. + +"I'll go in now," said Tom; and he went away round to the back door. +Keziah was making something at the stove, and nearly upset the +saucepan in her amazement. Tom nodded to her, and went off to the far +parlour. The door was ajar and he peeped in. Was _that_ the far +parlour? No, it could not be. There were white curtains at the +window, flowers everywhere. A sparkling fire in the high brass grate; +a low, restful rocking-chair at the hearth; and a couch he did not +remember to have seen before, but it looked as if it had been made +for ease and comfort. And on the couch lay Lucy, the fire-light +dancing on her face: it was pale and thin, but happy-looking, he +could see. + +She heard a noise at the door, and said, without looking round, "Are +you dressed already, Miss Carrie? How fast you have been!" + +There was no answer; then Lucy looked round and gave a great cry. And +Tom ran in and knelt down beside her, and gathered her shawl and all +in his arms, and they held each other very close; and for a long time +there was nothing said. + +"How did you come?" asked Lucy at last, her face radiant with joy. + +"By train. Mr. Keane sent me. Are you glad, Lucy?" + +"Glad?" Lucy had no words wherewith to express her gladness, but it +was evident enough. + +Just then footsteps sounded on the stair, and Miss Hepsy came into +the room followed by Miss Goldthwaite. + +She looked scared a moment, but when Tom rose and came to her +saying--"I came to see Lucy, Aunt Hepsy, and to thank you for being +so good to her,"--she just sat down in the rocking-chair and sobbed +like a child. Here was a state of matters! and Tom did not know just +then whether to laugh or to cry. But Miss Carrie diverted him by +asking questions about his journey, and by-and-by Miss Hepsy rose and +said she'd get supper. + +"An' ye'll jist bide, Miss Goldthwaite, an' we'll all have it here +with Lucy.--Dear, dear, this is a great night. Who'd 'a thought to +see you, Tom, all the way from Philadelphia?" + +"You look pretty comfortable, Lucy," said Tom jokingly. "I wouldn't +mind being sick myself, to be codled up like this." + +Lucy smiled, but her eyes grew dim. + +"I can't speak about it, Tom," she said. "Aunt Hepsy is too good to +me; she reminds me of mamma sometimes.--Isn't she kind, Miss Carrie?" + +Miss Carrie nodded, her sweet face full of satisfaction. Evidently +the new state of affairs was after her own heart. + +By-and-by the table was set, and they all gathered round it, and Tom +had a real Thankful Rest supper. + +There was not much said; but Tom saw how Aunt Hepsy watched and +tended Lucy; and how Uncle Josh, too, had grown gentle even in his +roughness; and, above all, he saw how beautiful was Lucy's face in +its perfect happiness and content. + +"You don't eat, Lucy, my pet," said Aunt Hepsy anxiously. + +"I can't, auntie; I am so happy, it's no use;" and Lucy covered her +face with her hands and fairly sobbed. + +Then Tom rose to his feet, and gave vent to a cheer which would have +done honour to an Englishman. + +"Bless me, boy, ye'll bring the house down," said Aunt Hepsy, but not +looking at all displeased. + +"Can't help it, Aunt Hepsy; it's surplus steam; must let it off, or I +can't answer for the consequences." And he cheered again and again, +till Keziah ran to see what was the matter. She went back to the +kitchen saying to herself, "When I see an' hear that here, I feel +like believin', Deacon Frost, that the world's comin' to an end." + +Not the world exactly, Keziah, only the old, hard, miserable days +have come to an end for ever, and a new era has begun at Thankful +Rest. + + + +XV. + +THE WEDDING. + +Tom stayed a week at home--_home_ it truly was to both Lucy and him +now, and he left it with regret. But the work he loved and had chosen +called him away, and knowing Lucy would be tenderly cared for, he +went back to Philadelphia, carrying a much lighter heart than when he +first entered it three months before. The summer would be a busy one +for him; and as the months sped he proved the truth of Mr. Keane's +words, that it was only through much hard, plodding, uninteresting +work, that he could ever hope to place his foot on the first step of +the ladder. But he had a kind hand and an encouraging word always +ready to help him on, and was happy in his apprenticeship. + +Thanks to Aunt Hepsy's careful nursing, midsummer saw Lucy fully +restored to health again. She had an easy and happy time of it now. +There was no more trotting up and down, no more bending under heavy +loads--it was only very light work her hands were permitted to do; +and she would laugh and tell Aunt Hepsy she was making a fine lady of +her altogether. + +"You do what you're bid, an' say nothin', my dear," was always Aunt +Hepsy's answer, with oh, what a difference in look and tone. + +There was no restriction to her visiting now. She would spend days at +the Red House, in company with her friend Minnie; who, in her turn, +would come to Thankful Rest, and keep the house alive with her gay +nonsense. + +So the summer sped, harvest was ingathered again, and one sunny +evening in September, Miss Goldthwaite came up to Thankful Rest on +special business. Rumours were afloat that the parsonage was soon to +lose Miss Carrie, but they had not yet been confirmed. + +Miss Hepsy was in the garden, and gave the parson's sister a warm +greeting. + +"Is Lucy indoors?" Carrie asked, after they had chatted a moment. + +"Yes; I heard her singing a minute ago," answered Aunt Hepsy. "Jes' +go in and look for her, Miss Goldthwaite; I'll be in by-and-by." + +"Perhaps I had better talk to you first, Miss Hepsy, as you have the +power to grant or refuse what I want." + +"I don't often say no to ye, Miss Carrie," said Aunt Hepsy with a dry +smile. + +"I know it; but this is a very serious request--in fact, I am afraid +to make it." + +"Out with it. I can but say no any way." + +Miss Goldthwaite leaned on her parasol, and looked at Aunt Hepsy, +smiling, and blushing slightly too. + +"Perhaps you know I'm going to be married soon, Miss Hepsy?" + +"I hear the folks sayin' so; but I paid no heed, guessin' ye'd come +an' tell us afore it took place. Is't to be immediately?" + +"At Christmas. But I'm going home to New York in three weeks." + +"To get ready," nodded Miss Hepsy. "Well?" + +"Can't you guess what I want, Miss Hepsy?" + +Miss Hepsy stood a moment in wondering silence, and then said very +slowly, "I guess it'll be Lucy ye want." + +"Yes; I want her to go home with me, and remain till after my +marriage. Frank will bring her back when he comes. Now it's out. +Order me off the premises now, Miss Hepsy; I know you feel like it." + +"This is September," said Aunt Hepsy very slowly; "October, November, +December, January--perhaps nigh half a year. Well, Miss Goldthwaite, +excuse me sayin' it, but the Lord'll need to help your husband; he'll +not be able to help hisself, that's certain. Ye'd move the Peak, as +I've said afore." + +"Am I to take that as your permission, Miss Hepsy?" + +"Hev ye spoke to Lucy?" + +"Not yet; you had to be asked first. If you had said no, I should not +have thought of mentioning it to Lucy at all." + +"If Lucy wants to go, I'm willin'; but it'll be a queer house without +her." + +"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, and bent forward and kissed +her. "I think you will not regret it. It will soon pass, and will do +Lucy a world of good. She is growing up, you know, and wants to see +something." + +"P'raps you're right," said Aunt Hepsy. "Yes, go in now, Miss +Goldthwaite; I want to think a bit." + +Carrie went in, and kneeling down on the hearth beside Lucy, said +abruptly, "I am going to be married at Christmas, Lucy, and want you +for my bridesmaid. I am going home to New York in three weeks, and +your aunt says I may take you with me. Will you come?" + +Lucy's face flushed with pleasure, but she said quickly,-- + +"You are very kind, Carrie. I should like it dearly. But would it be +right to leave my uncle and aunt?" + +"If they say you may, Lucy. I have thought it well over before I +mentioned it at all; and I'm sure you would enjoy yourself." + +"I know that. May I have a day or two to think of it, Carrie?" + +"As many as you like, so that you only come, dear. Now, I'm going +off; I haven't a minute to spare.--By-the-by, Alice and Minnie will +likely be at papa's, too, all December, so that is another +inducement. Goodbye." She stooped and kissed Lucy, and ran out of the +house. + +Pretty soon Aunt Hepsy came in, looking very grave and sad. She took +up her knitting, and for a bit neither spoke. + +"Three months is a long time, Aunt Hepsy," said Lucy at last. + +Aunt Hepsy never spoke. + +Then Lucy rose and came to her, and laid her arm about her neck. "You +don't want me to go, auntie, I know you don't." + +"Go away; I didn't say I didn't," said Aunt Hepsy in her gruffest +tones. + +"Auntie, if you will only tell me you would rather I stayed, I won't +go." + +"Don't ask questions, child. I guess I'd never live through them +three months. As well go away for ever almost." + +"Then I won't go," said Lucy stoutly. "I'd dearly like to be at +Carrie's wedding; but I can't leave you, auntie, for so long." And +from that decision no persuasion could induce Lucy to depart--she was +firm as a rock; but Aunt Hepsy made a little private arrangement of +her own, which was to be kept a profound secret from the bride-elect. + +Judge Keane travelled to New York the day before Christmas with a +young lady under his care; and when the pair were ushered into Dr. +Goldthwaite's drawing-room, the bride-elect saw, peeping out from +among the rich furs which Aunt Hepsy had provided for her darling, a +face she loved very dearly, and which could belong to nobody in the +world but Lucy Hurst. + +They were all together in the long drawing-room, waiting only the +coming of the bride, ere the solemn ceremony could be performed. +There was a large company, for the Goldthwaites had a wide circle of +acquaintance. Conspicuous among them were the friends we know +best--all the Keanes (save the invalid mother, who thought and prayed +for them at home), and Tom and Lucy Hurst. It had been a surprise to +Lucy to find him at New York. She had not expected to see him again +till the summer-time. She looked very fair and sweet in her delicate +white dress, but was utterly unconscious of the admiration she was +creating; and of the close observation of a pair of dark earnest +eyes, which had been the first gleam of comfort to her when her +mother died. + +By-and-by, old white-haired Dr. Goldthwaite came in with Carrie on +his arm, and they took their places silently; and in a very few +minutes Frank had uttered the irrevocable words, and the wedding was +over. Then Mr. and Mrs. George Keane received abundant +congratulations, and they adjourned to partake of breakfast. In the +hall stood a quantity of baggage labelled "Mrs. Keane," which seemed +very formidable, but was not much after all, considering the +travellers were going to Europe. Yes; the young pair were to have a +six months' tour before settling down at Pendlepoint, and some felt +as if Carrie were going away for ever. She looked very grave and sad; +and when she came down ready to go, broke down utterly bidding her +mother good-bye. + +"Now then, this will never do," said Judge Keane, with that comical +smile of his. "George, get your wife into the carriage, or we shall +have her rueing she ever promised to follow you." + +Carrie smiled through her tears, and shook her finger at the judge. +Then, as she turned to go, a light touch fell upon her arm, and a low +voice whispered tremulously,-- + +"May God bless you all your life, Mrs. Keane." + +It was Lucy, her great eyes shining with unspeakable love and +tenderness. + +"Never Mrs. Keane to you, Lucy, my pet," she whispered back. "Carrie +always, and always. Write to me." + +Then she was hurried out to the carriage, forgetting in the +excitement of the moment that she possessed no address to give. The +door closed upon them, the coachman sprang to the box, and the next +moment they were gone. They had embarked together on the sea of life, +and the voyage bade fair to be a happy and prosperous one. + +"I don't like weddings," said Judge Keane discontentedly. "They are +miserable, heart-breaking things at the best." + +"Time was when you did not think so, judge," said the doctor, with a +twinkle in his eye.--"Eh, little one?" + +It was Lucy whom the doctor addressed, and she answered timidly, "It +is very sad to give away those we love, as you have done to-day, +sir." + +"Wait till somebody wants to take you away, my lady," laughed the +judge. "There'll be an earthquake at Thankful Rest." + +"I never heard any one speak as you do, Judge Keane," said Lucy, with +a dignity which dumfoundered Tom; and she moved away and sat down by +Mrs. Goldthwaite, and began to talk to her about Carrie. + +"What makes you look so sober, Tom Hurst?" queried Minnie Keane's +voice at his elbow a few minutes later. + +"Shall I tell you, Minnie?" + +"You must," was the calm reply. + +"It seems to me, then," he said very slowly, "that Lucy is growing +up, and I don't like it. Do you?" + +"I don't mind. Everybody grows up and marries, and goes to Europe, +and dies after a bit; that's about what life amounts to--not much, is +it?" + +Tom laughed, he couldn't help it; but after a bit he answered +gravely, "I am afraid to grow up myself, Minnie." + +"Why?" + +"Because a man has so much responsibility, so much to do for God: I +don't think it will be very easy." + +"Oh, I do!" answered Minnie. "Just do all you can, with all your +might; that's what mamma says, and it's the easiest way." + +"So it is," said Tom. "I shan't forget that, Minnie." + +And neither he did. + + + +XVI. + +FIVE YEARS AFTER. + +Again it was sweet spring-time at Thankful Rest. The garden was gay +with tender leaves and blossoms, and the orchard white with bloom. +There the birds made sweet melody as of yore; and, as of yore, the +sunny river brawled and whispered and played as it hurried through +the meadow to the sea. + +At five o'clock in the afternoon Aunt Hepsy was in the kitchen, busy +as usual; her hands knew no idleness. Two teacups and a plate of cake +stood on the table, the remnants of the early tea she and Lucy had +taken a little while before. Presently a light step sounded in the +lobby, and Lucy came in dressed for walking. Five years make a great +change; for she had grown from a slight, diminutive girl, to a tall, +lithe, graceful young lady, just on the verge of womanhood. + +"Ye look like a picter, by all the world," said Aunt Hepsy, pausing +to admire her; and Lucy's answer was a silvery laugh, so full of +perfect happiness and content, that a silent bird on the window ledge +caught the infection and burst into song. + +"I'm going to the post-office to see if there's a letter from Tom, +Aunt Hepsy," she said; "and then to Dovecot, to see Mrs. George +Keane. I'll be back sure before dark." + +"Ye'd better," said Aunt Hepsy, with something of her ancient +grimness. "The house ain't worth livin' in when ye're out." + +Lucy came close to Aunt Hepsy, and laying her gloved hands on her +shoulders, bent tender, beaming eyes on her face. "It makes me so +thankful, auntie, to think you miss me, and are glad when I come +back. I don't suppose there's a happier girl anywhere than I am." + +"Nor a happier pair than ye make yer uncle an' me," said Aunt Hepsy +softly. "Off ye go, ye waste my time like anything; time was when I'd +make ye fly round considerable if ye'd ventured." + +Lucy laughed, and went her way, turning aside as she went through the +paddock for a pleasant word with Uncle Josh ploughing in the low +meadow. He stopped his team to watch the pretty girlish figure out of +sight. Crossing the bridge she met Ebenezer going with a letter to +Thankful Rest. It was for her, and in Tom's handwriting. There was no +need for her to go down to the town, and she turned in the direction +of the Dovecot, which was the name of the pretty home occupied by +George Keane and his wife. It was midway between the Red House and +the parsonage, and fifteen minutes' leisurely walking brought her to +it. Miss Goldthwaite had been married four years past, and had one +little son, the joy and torment of her life. He was in bed, however, +when Lucy called, so there was a chance of a moment's quiet talk. + +"I have had a letter from Tom to-night, Carrie," she said when the +first greetings were over. "His picture has sold for five hundred +dollars." + +"O Lucy, I am so glad. Such a success for a young artist! How proud +Robert will be of his pupil." + +Lucy's eyes beamed her pride, though she said very little. + +"Frank is here," said Mrs. Keane after a moment. "He is out somewhere +with George; let us find them, and communicate the good news. What +will Aunt Hepsy say?" + +They rose and went out into the sweet spring twilight and found Mr. +Goldthwaite and Mr. George Keane in the garden at the back. There +were warm congratulations from both, and an hour slipped away in +discussing the artist, his work and prospects, till Lucy remembered +her promise to Aunt Hepsy, and said that she must be going. Mr. +Goldthwaite would return too, he said, as it was growing late. His +sister fancied Lucy's company was an inducement to him to leave so +early, but she discreetly held her peace. + +It was almost dark, though the lamp was not lit at Thankful Rest, +when Lucy reached home. + +"You've kept your time," said Aunt Hepsy well pleased. "Did ye come +home alone?" + +"No, Aunt Hepsy," answered Lucy very low, and the semi-darkness hid +her face. "Mr. Goldthwaite was at Dovecot, and walked home with me." + +"Mrs. Keane's folks all well?" asked Aunt Hepsy, suspecting nothing. + +"Yes; and O Aunt Hepsy, I have a letter from Tom: his picture in the +exhibition has sold for five hundred dollars." + +Aunt Hepsy uplifted her hands in mute amazement. + +"Marcy on us," she exclaimed at last. "What a power o' money for a +picter! Is't true, Lucy?" + +"Yes, quite true; and he has got such praise for it," said Lucy +joyfully. "Aren't you proud of him, Aunt Hepsy?" + +"I guess I am," said Aunt Hepsy. "Five hundred dollars! Dear, dear! +What will Josh say to this? Does he say anything about coming home +soon?" + +"I'll read you the letter when the lamp's lighted, auntie," said +Lucy. + +"Well, light it, there's a good child; it's 'most time anyway. I've +been idle a good half-hour." + +But Lucy did not seem in any hurry. She hovered about in an odd, +restless kind of way, and finally came behind Aunt Hepsy's chair, and +folded her hands on her shoulder. + +"What is it, child?" said Aunt Hepsy wonderingly. "Summat you have to +tell me, I reckon. Anything in Tom's letter ye haven't told me?" + +"No, Aunt Hepsy," and Lucy's voice fell very low now. "I want to tell +you--I have promised to be Mr. Goldthwaite's wife." + +"Bless me, Lucy, 'tain't true?" cried Aunt Hepsy, starting up; and +seeing in Lucy's downcast face confirmation of her words, she sank +back to her chair, and for the first and only time in her life Aunt +Hepsy went off into hysterics. + +In the tender gloaming of an August evening Tom and Lucy Hurst stood +together within the porch at Thankful Rest. They had been at +Pendlepoint visiting old friends, and, after walking slowly home, +lingered here talking of old times, and loath to leave the soft +beauty of the summer night. A tall, broad-shouldered, handsome fellow +was Tom Hurst now, towering a head above his sister, who stood very +close to him, her head leaning against his shoulder. + +"Do you remember what a pair of miserable little creatures stood just +here five years ago, Lucy?" he said half laughingly, half earnestly. + +"Yes," said Lucy softly. "What a difference between then and now." + +There was a moment's silence. Tom's eyes watched the stars peeping +out one by one in the opal sky, his heart full of the happiness of +the present and all the hope and promise of the future. + +Presently Aunt Hepsy, ever watchful for Lucy now, called to them to +come in, for the dews were falling. + +"Tom, has not God cast our lines in pleasant places, and given us a +goodly heritage?" said Lucy softly as they turned to obey the +summons. + +"Ay," answered Tom, his voice softening also. "May He help us to be +truly grateful for His goodness all our lives, Lucy." + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Thankful Rest, by Annie S. 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