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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/22916-h.zip b/22916-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..718f037 --- /dev/null +++ b/22916-h.zip diff --git a/22916-h/22916-h.htm b/22916-h/22916-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..351f736 --- /dev/null +++ b/22916-h/22916-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4592 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Left at Home, by Mary L. Code</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + + .ralign {position: absolute; right: 10%;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + } + + h6 { text-align: center; + font-size: 3em; + clear: both; + } + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + a { text-decoration: none; } + + .pagenum { visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } + + .center {text-align: center;} + .center1 {text-align: center; font-size: .7em;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + .caption1 {font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + -.5em; margin-right: 0em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: .5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Left at Home, by Mary L. Code</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 = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Left at Home</p> +<p> or, The Heart's Resting Place</p> +<p>Author: Mary L. Code</p> +<p>Release Date: October 8, 2007 [eBook #22916]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFT AT HOME***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Anne Storer,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 378px;"> +<img src="images/imgcover.jpg" width="378" height="500" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p><p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 2]</span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;"> +<img src="images/imgfrontis.png" width="366" height="500" alt="They walked" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“They walked on for some distance without saying +much.”—<em><a href="#Page_92">Page 92</a>.</em></span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 3]</span></p> +<h6>LEFT AT HOME;</h6> + +<h4>OR,</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"> +<img src="images/resting.jpg" width="394" height="36" alt="The hearts resting place" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2><em>MARY L. CODE,</em></h2> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF<br /> +“WANDERING MAY;” “CLARIE’S LITTLE CHARGE;”<br /> +“LONELY LILY;” ETC.</h4> + +<p> </p><p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/img2.jpg" width="150" height="62" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p><p> </p> + +<h3>KILMARNOCK:</h3> +<h2>JOHN RITCHIE,</h2> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 274px;"> +<img src="images/publisher.jpg" width="274" height="21" alt="Publisher of Christian Literature" title="" /> +</div> +<h4><span class="smcap">And through all Booksellers.</span></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 5]</span></p> +<h2><em>CONTENTS.</em></h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="14" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>LITTLE MILDRED</td> <td align='right'>7</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>GOING TO INDIA</td> <td align='right'>16</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>ARTHUR’S MOTHER</td> <td align='right'>26</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>LAST DAYS AT ASHTON GRANGE</td> <td align='right'>30</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>THE PARTING</td> <td align='right'>44</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>MYRTLE HILL</td> <td align='right'>47</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>LEFT ALONE</td> <td align='right'>60</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>EDGAR NORTH</td> <td align='right'>79</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>MIDSUMMER HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS</td> <td align='right'>108</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>AT REST NOW</td> <td align='right'>114</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'>CONCLUSION</td> <td align='right'>140</td> </tr> + +</table> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 6]</span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 474px;"> +<img src="images/img5.jpg" width="474" height="500" alt="Ashton Grange" title="" /> +<span class="caption1">Ashton Grange.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 7]</span></p> +<p><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 445px;"> +<img src="images/img6.jpg" width="445" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h1>LEFT AT HOME.</h1> + +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>LITTLE MILDRED, OR THE GATHERED LAMB.</strong></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 41px;"> +<img src="images/img-s.png" width="41" height="62" alt="S" title="" /> +</div><p>TOP, Mr. Arthur, if you please. You are not to go upstairs. Mistress +left orders for you to stay in the library until she came down.”</p> + +<p>So spoke the younger servant at Ashton Grange, as Arthur rushed upstairs +three steps at a time.</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter? Why shouldn’t I go upstairs? Is anything the +matter?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, Mr. Arthur, whether there is much the matter; but I am +afraid Miss Mildred is ill. The doctor is upstairs, and mistress said +there is not to be a sound of noise.”</p> + +<p>These words quite sobered Arthur, as he turned from the stairs and went +into the library. It was a pleasant room at all times, but especially so +on a winter’s evening, when the frosty night was shining clear and cold +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 8]</span> +without. A bright fire was blazing, lighting up the crimson carpet and +curtains, and sparkling on the snowy table-cover, where preparations for +such a tea were made as Arthur was usually at this time prepared to +appreciate. But as he sat down on the rug, and, holding his face in his +two hands, gazed earnestly into the fire, he was not thinking of his +hunger. A very grave expression was on his boyish face. He was thinking of +what the housemaid had told him, and wishing very much to know more.</p> + +<p>“Why, what can be the matter with baby?” he thought. “She was all right +when I went out. She can’t be so very bad, I should think, all in a +minute. No; I don’t believe she is. I’m hungry.”</p> + +<p>And Arthur started up, and came nearer the table, intending to help +himself to something. But then he stopped, and thought again—</p> + +<p>“I suppose she is though, or else the doctor wouldn’t be here, and every +one wouldn’t have to be so quiet. Oh, dear, I wish mother would come. I +wish she would come. I do wish very much she would come.”</p> + +<p>Then he thought of creeping quietly upstairs, and listening outside the +nursery door; and the temptation to do so was very strong; but he +remembered his mother’s injunction, and sat down again on the rug. But it +was very hard to wait. It would have been a great deal easier to Arthur to +do almost anything else just then. One half hour and then another passed, +and no sound came to<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 9]</span> break the stillness which was in the house, till +Arthur’s head dropped on his hand for weariness, and in a few minutes he +was fast asleep. How long he remained so he hardly knew; but he did not +wake until a gentle step came on the stairs. The door was softly opened, +and Arthur’s mother entered the room. She was very pale, and had a sad, +sad look on her face, and just sank wearily down in an easy-chair, on the +opposite side of the fireplace to her little boy, who was wide awake now.</p> + +<p>“Oh, mother, is it true what Anna says about Mildred, that she is so very +ill?” asked Arthur breathlessly. He had come nearer to his mother, and, +leaning his chin on her knee, he looked eagerly up in her face.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Arthur;” and the hand that was pressed on his forehead to stroke +back his brown hair was hot and trembling.</p> + +<p>“<em>Very</em> ill?” asked Arthur again. “Why, she was a right just after dinner. +She will get better, won’t she, mamma?”</p> + +<p>“Mildred is very, very ill, dear Arthur,” his mother said gently. “I came +to tell you myself, darling, because I knew you would be wanting to know. +She has been attacked with croup very violently indeed, and the doctor +does not give me any hope that she will live. I cannot stay with you, my +darling boy.”</p> + +<p>She did not say any more, and before Arthur had scarcely understood what +he had heard, his mother was gone. There was only one thought in his mind +now.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 10]</span> Mildred dying! his darling baby sister, who a little while ago had +laughed, and crowed, and kicked her pretty feet as he played with her. How +could it all have happened? And how soon a dark cloud had fallen over +everything that had seemed so bright! And then a little picture of her +fresh baby face came before him, and he could see the little rosy mouth, +and bright blue eyes, and the soft cheek that he had so often kissed. +Would her sweet face <em>never</em> laugh again? And would he never hear her +clear, soft voice calling “Artie, Artie”? Arthur did not know he had loved +his baby sister so deeply until now that the dark, sad news had come that +perhaps she was going to be taken away from them all for ever. So he sat +in the pleasant firelight on the hearth-rug; but there was no brightness +on his face now. A very grave cloud had fallen on it, as the words were in +his heart that his mother had told him. And then, as he thought about what +they really meant, his lip quivered, and the tears fell on the floor, till +at length his head bowed down on the armchair where his mother had been +sitting, and Arthur sobbed bitterly all alone. It was a very hopeless, +heart-sick feeling, as he wept with the vehemence of his strong, loving +nature; and he had never felt in this way before; for all his life +hitherto he had known what it was to be loved and to love, and had never +had cause to mourn over the loss of what his heart had wound itself +around.</p> + +<p>“I wish some one would come and tell me how +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 11]</span> Mildred is,” said Arthur +presently to himself, after half an hour had passed when he had been +crying on the rug. “I wonder is the doctor going to stay there all night?”</p> + +<p>Poor little Arthur! it was very hard work waiting there all alone with no +one to speak to, not even Hector the house-dog, his friend and confidant; +for a servant had gone into the town and taken him with him. Presently the +door opened, and he started up eagerly. It was the housemaid, and the +candle that she held in her hand showed a grave, tear-stained face.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Arthur, will you come upstairs?” she said. “Mistress sent me to tell +you. Will you come up to the nursery?”</p> + +<p>“Why—what—may I really? What, is she better then?” asked Arthur +joyfully, and yet with a certain trembling at his heart, as he saw the +expression on Anna’s face.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, Mr. Arthur,” she said, bursting into tears. “Poor, dear little +darling, she can’t scarce breathe; its dreadful to hear her, and she such +a sweet little pet. Oh, dear, dear, dear, and whatever will mistress do, +and master?”</p> + +<p>But Arthur was not crying now as he went slowly up the stairs, feeling as +if it was all a dream, and not at all as if these were the same stairs +that he generally mounted, or that this was the nursery door where he had +generally bounded in with a laughing shout to the bright little +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 12]</span> sister +who now lay very near the shore of the other land. She was a very little +girl; not two years ago she had first come; and Arthur, who had been +half-afraid of the tiny baby that lay in the nurse’s arms so still and +quiet, had by degrees learnt to love her with all his heart. He knew just +the best ways to please her, and to make her voice ring out the merry crow +he so liked to hear; and always, when she saw her brother coming up the +avenue that led to the house, she would stretch out her tiny arms, and try +to jump from her nurse’s arms to meet him.</p> + +<p>It was only a few hours ago that Arthur had waved his hand to her, and +made Hector jump and roll along the ground, that she might see him. She +had looked so bright and rosy then, and now it was all so different!</p> + +<p>The room felt warm as he entered, and there seemed to be a great many +people around the little white bed where Mildred lay. Arthur never, never +forgot that scene; it lay on his heart like a strange, sad picture all his +life. He could not see his little sister’s face, only a stray golden curl +was peeping from the white sheet, and lay on the pillow; he could hear her +breathing, and it made his heart quiver to listen to the sounds. The nurse +was standing a little aside; for there was nothing more for her to do. She +had been placing hot flannels, and trying favourite remedies; but these +were all of no avail. The doctor was standing at the post of the bed; for +he knew that Mildred’s little life was ebbing fast. And then Arthur looked +at his father and mother. His mother<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 13]</span> +was sitting by the pillow, and she +almost lay upon the bed as she leant over her little dying child. His +father was standing close by, and Arthur looked again at the expression +that was on his face. He was in general a little afraid of his father; in +fact, for the last two or three years he had not seen him at all, and it +was only by the kind letters and messages from India, that he had known +him of late, and he had thought him rather grave and stern, he was so +different from his sweet, gentle mother; and though Arthur loved him at a +distance, he had quite different feelings for her.</p> + +<p>But now, as he looked again, he saw that a softness was on his father’s +face, and that the hand that was laid on his wife’s shoulder was +trembling; and the thought that was in Arthur’s mind just then was, +“Father really looks as if he was going to cry.”</p> + +<p>Presently his mother went a little closer to her baby, and Arthur just +heard her whisper, “Let her die in my arms.” His father looked as if he +thought it would be better not. But she looked up again: “Give her, I +must.” So very gently she took the covering from the child, and drew her +to her arms.</p> + +<p>Little Mildred did not lie there very long. It was terrible to see her, +and Arthur could hardly bear to look; but he did look as the convulsions +made her struggle and gasp for breath.</p> + +<p>At length he heard his father’s voice in a low whisper say, “She’s gone; +thank God.” And then he saw him<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 14]</span> +take a little helpless form from his +mother’s arms and lay it back on the white bed, and Arthur saw that his +tiny sister was dead. She was lying still, her breath was gone for ever; +her eyes were closed, and her curls lay soft and golden on the pillow. She +would never open her blue eyes again, and her voice would never more call +“Artie, Artie.”</p> + +<p>He just saw that his mother sunk down on the floor by the bedside. He +could not see her face, but he heard a deep, deep groan, and then she +said, “My baby, my darling.” She did not cry, she only knelt there still +and silent; and then suddenly a great rush of feeling came over Arthur’s +heart as the thought of sweet little Mildred lying dead came over his +mind, and he threw himself by his mother’s side, burying his face on her +shoulder, and burst into a passion of crying. “Oh, mamma, mamma!” was all +he said. “Don’t, Arthur; you had better go down stairs, my boy,” said his +father gently. But his mother whispered, “Let him stay;” and she threw her +arms round him, and clasped him so tightly that he could hardly breathe.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was good for her to hear her child’s sobs; they seemed to enter +into her heart and melt it, for it was icy in its mourning before.</p> + +<p>“God has taken our little Mildred,” said Arthur’s father presently, in a +very choked, quivering voice. “He has taken her to be very happy with +Himself. He will take care of her for ever.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 15]</span> +“I know it,” said Arthur’s mother; “better than we could.”</p> + +<p>Presently Arthur got up, and before he went away from the room he threw +his arms once more around his little dead sister, and the tears fell over +her golden curls and her round fair cheeks, which were still round and +red.</p> + +<p>He cried himself to sleep that night, and when he awoke in the morning it +was with a dreary feeling that a great deal was gone. He was the only +child now, and as he stood by the little open grave where Mildred’s tiny +coffin had been lowered, and as he felt the soft, tight clasp of his +mother’s hand in his, Arthur felt he would be a loving boy to her.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/img14.jpg" width="200" height="57" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 16]</span><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 472px;"> +<img src="images/img15.jpg" width="472" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>GOING TO INDIA.</strong></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 41px;"> +<img src="images/img-t.png" width="41" height="60" alt="T" title="" /> +</div><p>HE home seemed very sad and silent indeed without the little child who +had been laid in the low green-covered grave, and a sadness seemed to have +fallen upon it. At first Arthur went about the house silently and slowly, +and it was some time before his boyish spirits came back to him; but he +was only a boy after all, and a very young boy, and by and by, when the +green leaves came budding on the trees and the spring voice was waking in +the valleys and the fields, when the young lambs answered with their +bleating and the young birds sung a chorus of bursting joy, Arthur’s face +brightened, and his step was bounding again. And his mother was glad to +see him with the weary cloud gone, only her heart ached with a deep throb +as she thought of the new care that was hanging over him, and of which he +knew nothing as yet.</p> + +<p>One day, when Arthur was passing the door of his mother’s morning-room, he +heard his father’s voice within, saying, “I think you had better tell him, +Louisa.” The<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 17]</span> door was partly open, and if he listened he would easily be +able to hear what they were saying. The temptation was very strong, and +Arthur yielded to it. It was very wrong, and he knew it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” he heard his mother say, “I could not tell him; I don’t think I +could. It almost breaks my heart to think of it myself.”</p> + +<p>“Louisa,” said his father—and Arthur thought his voice sounded rather +sad—“you know it is your own choice, and even now you can change if you +like.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, no, dear Ronald!” said his mother—and he could hear that her +voice was quivering and trembling—“you know very well I could not. +Forgive me, I ought to be very thankful I have you still; and so I am. But +tell him yourself, Ronald; you know I am so foolish.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Mr. Vivyan, rising and stirring the fire with great +energy, as if he were then acting what he had made up his mind to do.</p> + +<p>And then Arthur stole away, feeling very strange with various mingled +feelings. Something seemed to say that the conversation concerned him, but +what it was all about he could not imagine. Something terrible seemed to +be going to happen; something that his mother could not make up her mind +to tell. And then he remembered how very wrong it had been for him to +listen to this conversation. He had always been taught never to do such a +thing, and the consciousness of his fault weighed heavily on his mind. He +wished very much that he had<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 18]</span> +not waited at the door, when he had seen it +stand so temptingly open. Indeed, so much did he think about what he had +done, that the strange things he had heard hardly troubled him.</p> + +<p>But by and by, when he was walking through the lanes, where the primroses +were dotting the hedgerows with green and yellow tufts, he began to think +again of what he had heard, and his step was slow and steady as he +thought. He was not the same Arthur who generally bounded along, startling +the little lambs who were feeding on the other side of the hedge; and +Hector seemed puzzled by the unusual quiet as he ran on first, inviting +his master to follow. Altogether it was a very grave and thoughtful walk, +and when Arthur came in, the quiet look was on his face still, and a very +troubled expression could be seen there.</p> + +<p>“Arthur dear, is anything the matter?” asked his mother in the evening, as +he sat on his low stool before the fire doing nothing, and thinking again +of what he had heard and what he had done.</p> + +<p>Arthur started, and blushed a very deep red.</p> + +<p>“Why should you think there was anything the matter, mother?”</p> + +<p>“Because I see there is,” she said quietly.</p> + +<p>He did not answer, and Mr. Vivyan looked out keenly at him, from behind +the book he was reading. But still Arthur had nothing to say, and the +troubled look came deeper on his face. He came nearer to his mother’s +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 19]</span> +chair, and presently when he found himself there he laid his head on her +lap.</p> + +<p>“What is it, my darling?” she asked, laying her hand on his brown hair. +Then the tears came into his eyes, and it was not directly that he was +able to say, “Mother, I know it was very wrong of me; but I heard what you +and papa were saying this morning when you were in the boudoir.”</p> + +<p>“It was very wrong indeed,” said Mr. Vivyan; “I did not think you would +have done such a thing, Arthur.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Arthur, Arthur!” said his mother very gently and sadly, “why did you, +why did you not remember?”</p> + +<p>He was crying now, and he did not need to be told that he had done very +wrong.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, you know all about it, I suppose?” said Arthur’s father.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t, papa. I only heard that something dreadful was going to +happen; and you told mother to tell some one, and she said she couldn’t; +and then you said you would, and I don’t remember the rest.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Vivyan smiled rather sadly, and Arthur felt his mother’s arm more +closely clasped around him.</p> + +<p>“Was it about me?” asked Arthur presently.</p> + +<p>Mr. Vivyan looked up at his wife, and then he said, “Arthur, my boy, when +I was in India before, why did your mother stay in England?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Arthur, somewhat surprised at the question. “To take +care of me, I suppose. Oh no,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 20]</span> +it wasn’t, though; it was because she was +ill, and she couldn’t live in India, the doctor said.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and now, is she as ill as she was then?”</p> + +<p>“Oh no, I should think not!” said Arthur brightly. “She is ever so much +better, aren’t you, mother?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear,” she said gently.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Vivyan, speaking very slowly, and laying his hand kindly +on Arthur’s curls, “did you know, Arthur, that my time for being in +England is very nearly over? there are only six weeks more left.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, father,” said Arthur, and feeling his father’s hand laid so tenderly +on his head, he felt more sorry at the thought that he was going than he +had ever done before. “I’m very sorry.”</p> + +<p>“But then, don’t you see, my boy,” Mr. Vivyan said, looking anxious and as +if he had great difficulty in expressing himself, “your mother need not +stay at home this time?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Arthur, after a pause, “I suppose not. And am I going to India +too?”</p> + +<p>“Why no, my dear child. You know how glad we should be to take you with +us; and very likely you do not know, Arthur, what it costs us to leave you +at home. But you know you could not go; children of your age would very +likely not live.”</p> + +<p>Arthur turned quickly round, and gazed with an incredulous, questioning +look at his father and mother. He could not see his mother’s face, for it +was hidden by<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 21]</span> her hand; but if he had looked closely he might have seen +that her whole form was trembling, though she did not speak a word.</p> + +<p>“Papa,” said Arthur presently, “what can you mean? Do you really mean that +you and mother are going out to India, and that you are going to leave me +in England by myself?”</p> + +<p>“Dear Arthur, you know we must.”</p> + +<p>Arthur turned away, and for a little while he said nothing. Presently he +spoke—it seemed as if half to himself—“No, I don’t believe that,” he +said. “I don’t believe that could be true.”</p> + +<p>“Arthur, my darling, darling boy, come here,” said his mother, after some +time when nobody had spoken.</p> + +<p>Arthur came nearer to his mother, and laid his head upon her knee. He was +feeling almost stunned, and as if he had not understood yet what he had +heard. Then a sudden thought came over him, that it meant he would soon +not be able to do this any more.</p> + +<p>“Mamma,” he said in a low voice, which was very touchingly sad in its +hopelessness, “need you go? Wouldn’t you rather stay at home with me?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Arthur,” said Mrs. Vivyan, “you must not say those things, dear.”</p> + +<p>“Won’t you take me with you, then? I don’t believe I could stay at home +without you. Won’t you take me? Oh, do! please, do!”</p> + +<p>All this was said in a very low, mournful voice; for +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 22]</span> Arthur felt almost +as if he had not strength to cry about it.</p> + +<p>“Arthur,” said Mr. Vivyan, speaking gravely but kindly, “I tell you we +would if we could; but you must be contented to believe that it cannot +be.”</p> + +<p>“But I am sure it would do me no harm, father; you don’t know how much +heat I can bear. I believe I am better sometimes in hot weather. And oh! I +don’t believe I <em>could</em> live in England by myself.”</p> + +<p>He gave a very weary sigh, and leant his head heavily on his mother. +Presently he felt a tear on his forehead, and he knew that she must be +crying.</p> + +<p>“My own darling little mamma,” said Arthur, “I love you with my whole +heart. Oh, you don’t know how very much I love you!” and he gave a deep, +weary sigh.</p> + +<p>She put her arm round him, and pressed him very closely to her heart; and +he felt as if he were a tired little baby, and that it was very nice to +have his mother’s arm around him. By and by he began crying; not with a +hard, passionate feeling, but in a weak, weary way, the tears flowing down +one after another over his mother’s hands.</p> + +<p>“My dear child,” said Mr. Vivyan, as the time came nearer for Arthur to go +to bed, “you don’t know what it is to your mother and to me to leave you; +but we hope you will be happy by and by, for your aunt will be very kind +to you, and will love you very much. She lives in a very nice part of the +country. You may be sure, Arthur,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 23]</span> +we should be quite certain that every one would be kind to you.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that I am to live with some other person?” asked Arthur +listlessly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, with my sister; that is, your aunt.”</p> + +<p>It did not seem to matter very much to Arthur just then where he was +going, or what was to become of him. He knew his father and mother were +going away, and that he was to be left all alone, quite alone it seemed to +him, and a very desolate, forlorn feeling fell over his heart, and seemed +to make him feel numbed and heavy.</p> + +<p>“Good night, my own dear mother,” said Arthur, as he took his candle. He +was not crying, and there was almost a little wan smile on his face as he +said it, making him look very different from the bright, joyous boy who +generally threw his arms around her neck with an embrace, which was most +emphatic as well as affectionate. He did not know how her heart was aching +for him, and he knew still less of the pain his father felt, but could not +show.</p> + +<p>As Arthur sunk on his knees that night by the side of his little bed where +the firelight was brightening and glowing, a deep sob came up from the +very depths of his heart; and when he tried to pray, all he could say was, +“O God, take care of me; for there is nobody else.”</p> + +<p>Arthur knew what it was to have put his trust in the Saviour of the world, +but hitherto everything had been so bright, and things had come and gone +so smoothly,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 24]</span> that he had not thought much about Him. He stayed awake a +very long time, waiting to see if his mother would come and talk to him, +as she very often did when there was anything to say. He did not know what +had passed when he had left the library, that his mother’s head had sunk +low, and her heart had shed the tears that he had not seen, and that now +came flowing from her eyes. And he did not know that she was utterly unfit +to speak to any one, so that when she stopped at his door, and seemed to +be going in, his father had said—</p> + +<p>“No, Louisa, you must not; I will go and tell him that you would come, but +that you can’t.”</p> + +<p>So that was how it was when Arthur heard his bedroom door open, and looked +round with an eager longing in his eye. He sunk back again on his pillow +when he saw that it was his father that was coming towards him, and he lay +there quite quietly without moving, so that Mr. Vivyan almost thought he +was asleep.</p> + +<p>“Arthur,” he said, “your mother wished me to tell you that she would have +come to see you herself, only she was not able. You know, my dear little +boy, she is quite ill with the thought of your trouble; and won’t you try +and be cheerful, for I am sure you would not like to make her ill, would +you, Arthur?”</p> + +<p>“No, father,” said Arthur, in a very quiet voice, without lifting his head +or looking up.</p> + +<p>“Good night, my child,” said his father, stooping down and kissing him; +and then as he took his candle<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 25]</span> +and went away from the room he said to +himself, “He is a very strange boy—very strange indeed. After all, I +don’t think he takes it so very much to heart as Louisa imagines.”</p> + +<p>But he did not know. When Arthur heard his door shut, and when he knew +that no one would come in again, the storm began, and it was a storm of +passion when sorrow, and anger, and affection all raged together.</p> + +<p>Arthur had always been a passionate child, and now the wild tempest that +nobody saw showed plainly his uncontrolled feelings. “Oh, dear! oh, dear! +what shall I do?” moaned the poor child to himself, tossing on his bed. +“And am I making mamma ill too? But how can I help it? How <em>can</em> I help +it? I can’t help being most frightfully miserable; yes, and angry too. I +am angry. Why did he come back from India to take mother away? I don’t +believe she wants to go. Yes, I suppose she does though. Oh, I wish, I +wish he had never come back from India! Everything has gone wrong since. I +don’t love him one bit. I wish, oh, I wish it was as it used to be once!”</p> + +<p>Poor Arthur, he sobbed and moaned until he was tired, and the knowledge +that he was very wicked did not certainly make him happier.</p> + +<p>He sobbed himself to sleep that night, and when the morning sunbeams stole +into the room and lighted on the white curtains of his bed, he awoke with +a dull, desolate feeling of a great pain in his heart.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 26]</span><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/img25.jpg" width="450" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>ARTHUR’S MOTHER; OR, “SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS.”</strong></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 54px;"> +<img src="images/img-m.png" width="54" height="60" alt="M" title="" /> +</div><p>RS. VIVYAN’S morning-room was on the pleasant sunny side of the house, +and was a very favourite retreat of her little boy. Indeed there was one +corner of it which he considered as especially his own. It was a little +sofa near the window, rather hidden in a recess, so that any one might be +lying there and not be seen. Perhaps this idea of privacy was one thing +which made Arthur like it; and then it was near the window, from which +he could see the garden and the birds; and he liked to watch the sun +sparkling on the pond, and making diamond showers of the fountain, which +sometimes he would persuade the gardener to do for him.</p> + +<p>And now, with his new deep trouble weighing on his heart, he sought his +usual refuge. Nobody was in the room as Arthur and his companion, Hector, +came in, Arthur throwing himself wearily on the sofa, and Hector making +himself comfortable on the rug.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear!” groaned Arthur, after a while; “I don’t think mother cares +very much. Come here, sir; do you care?”</p> + +<p>Hector came, and obediently lay down near the sofa.</p> + +<p>“Father doesn’t care much, that I’m pretty sure of,” +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 27]</span> continued Arthur; +“but I don’t mind that so much. I wonder will mother miss me in India. I +wonder will you miss me, Hector, old boy. You ought, and you will too, I +expect. Do you think you will, Hector? Speak to me, do!”</p> + +<p>But Hector only gravely wagged his tail.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! I wish a great deal,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>Just then there was a rustling noise at the door, and Arthur lay very +still and quiet as he saw that it was his mother who was coming in. He was +hidden on his sofa, so she did not see that he was there.</p> + +<p>Presently she took her work from the table, and sat down in a low chair by +the fire; and Arthur watched her as she sat there, and gazed at her sweet, +gentle face.</p> + +<p>He could not understand all that was there; but he could see enough to +make him very sorry that he had said “Mother doesn’t care much.”</p> + +<p>There was such a look of patient sweetness there, and the eyes that she +now and then lifted up were deep with an expression of pain, only over it +all peace was shedding a softness and beauty that he could feel. He +watched her for a long time in silence, until at last a look of intense +pain seemed to furrow her brow, and suddenly she buried her face in her +hands, and he could just hear her say, “My darling, my darling!”</p> + +<p>Arthur started up, and as she heard the sound she looked over to where +he was.</p> + +<p>“My dear little Arthur, I did not know any one was in the room.”</p> + +<p>“Mamma, I did not mean to hide—to look—I mean, to +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 28]</span> listen. I forgot I +ought to have said I was here. Mother, may I say what I was thinking +before you came in?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, darling. I always like to hear your thoughts.”</p> + +<p>“I was just thinking that you didn’t seem to care so very much.”</p> + +<p>“What about?” asked his mother.</p> + +<p>“Oh, about all those dreadful things—about dear little Mildred having +died, and about my being left all by myself.”</p> + +<p>It was not just directly that Mrs. Vivyan was able to answer, and then +she said:</p> + +<p>“When you are older, darling, you will find out that it is not always the +people who talk and cry most, who feel things most; and that there is such +a thing as saying ‘Thy will be done,’ and of not giving way to all our +feelings for the sake of others.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes; that is what I ought to do,” said Arthur with a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>“Arthur, dear,” said Mrs. Vivyan presently, looking straight into the +fire, and closing her hands very tightly, “don’t ever think I do not care +or feel. Oh, you never can know how much I have felt! You know nothing +about the hungry feeling in my heart when I think of my darling, darling +little baby, whom God is taking care of now; and how, when I see the +little bed she used to lie on, and her little frocks and shoes, I feel +something biting in my heart, and as if I <em>must</em> have her in my arms +again. And about you, my own precious boy, God knows how I feel, as I +never could express to you; but I can tell Him, and I do.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 29]</span> +And Arthur’s mother buried her face again in her hands, and burst into an +agony of weeping. He had never seen her cry like that before, and it was +something quite new to him to see his sweet, gentle mother so moved. He +hardly knew what to say to her; so he rose from his sofa, and coming close +up to her chair, he threw his arms with a fervent embrace around her, and +said softly:</p> + +<p>“Never mind, my own dear mother; I will try and bear it.”</p> + +<p>And then Arthur cried too; for the bitterness of what it would be to bear +it came over him.</p> + +<p>“God will bless us both in it, my darling,” said his mother; “and He will +take care of us while we are separated, and bring us back to each other +again some day, I trust. But Arthur, my own, am I leaving you in a loving +Saviour’s arms? Are you there, folded in His everlasting arms?”</p> + +<p>“Mother,” said Arthur in a faltering voice, “I do really believe in the +Lord Jesus Christ. I am nearly sure I do. But I don’t feel happy. I don’t +think much about Him, and it makes me feel frightened when I think about +dying.”</p> + +<p>“But He says, ‘Trust, and not be afraid,’ and He says, ‘I will never leave +thee nor forsake thee.’ Oh, Arthur, I do leave you in His arms! for I am +sure you are there if you trust in Him; and perhaps He is taking me away +so that you may feel His arms, and that it is a very sweet thing to be +there, and to be loved and taken care of for ever. As I do,” she added, +“in the midst of all my sorrows.”</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 30]</span><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 409px;"> +<img src="images/img29.jpg" width="409" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>LAST DAYS AT ASHTON GRANGE.</strong></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 54px;"> +<img src="images/img-m.png" width="54" height="60" alt="M" title="" /> +</div><p>RS. ESTCOURT, Mr. Vivyan’s only sister, was a widow lady living by +herself. Her home was in the neighbourhood of a large town, and here, in a +comfortable, moderately-sized house, she had lived for many years. She had +no children of her own, and when her husband had died she had seemed to +wish to avoid much intercourse with any one, so that Arthur knew very +little of his aunt. Once or twice he had seen her when she had paid very +short visits at Ashton Grange. He remembered a very sad-looking lady, with +a sweet face, who had held his hand as he stood by her chair, and that he +had half liked it, and felt half awkward as she spoke to him. He +remembered that as he had stood there, he had felt afraid to move or +fidget in the least bit, and that every now and then, as he had stolen a +glance at her, he had seen that her large dark eyes had been fixed upon +him. He had been very glad when the nursery dinner-bell rang and he was +obliged to go, without seeming to wish to run away.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 31]</span> +“Nurse,” said Arthur that day at dinner, “there’s a black lady down +stairs.”</p> + +<p>“A black lady!” said nurse; “there’s a way to speak of your aunt, Master +Arthur. Mrs. Estcourt is your papa’s own sister.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she looked all black, I know,” said Arthur. “I think I won’t go +down stairs much while she is there.”</p> + +<p>Nurse remarked that if he were going to stay she hoped he would be quiet +and well-behaved; but as he had to keep all his quiet behaviour for the +drawing-room, it is to be feared nurse’s temper was tried a little during +the few days that Mrs. Estcourt passed at Ashton Grange. Consequently +Arthur’s memories of his aunt were not such as to make him very happy at +the prospect of living with her always.</p> + +<p>“Mother,” said Arthur, on the evening of the day after he had heard about +these strange things that were going to happen, “is the aunt that I am +going to live with, that one that came here once?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Vivyan; “She is very kind, Arthur, and I know she will +love you very much, if——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, if I am good, I know,” said Arthur; “and that’s just the difference. +You know, mamma, you always love me, whatever I am.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said his mother, smiling; “but you could not expect any one +to love you in the way your mother does. You would not like her to be your +mother, would you?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 32]</span> +“No, of course not. Now, mother, tell me something about what her place is +like, and where it is, and what sort of things I shall do when I am there. +I have loads of questions to ask, only I forget them now.”</p> + +<p>“Well, begin then,” said his mother; “perhaps one will remind you of +another.”</p> + +<p>“First of all, then, what is the name of her place?”</p> + +<p>“Myrtle Hill, near Stanton.”</p> + +<p>“Myrtle Hill! what a funny name. Is it at all like this, mother?”</p> + +<p>“No, dear, not much. I am afraid it is a much more orderly kind of place. +But I will try to describe it to you. It is a good many years since I was +there, and I did not notice things so very much. It is a white house with +myrtle trained over the lower parts, and a great many myrtle trees growing +in the avenue; that is why it is called Myrtle Hill. I know there is a +large garden with a good many shady places under the trees, that I +remember thinking would be delightful in the summer. There is a front +garden too.”</p> + +<p>“That’s nice,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but I don’t expect your aunt will like little boys to have the run of +her garden!”</p> + +<p>“I daresay she will,” said Arthur. “She is going to be very fond of me, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that is question number one. Now, what is the second?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; where does she live?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 33]</span> +“It is a good way from this; about six hours by the train, and five miles +from Stanton.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! and that reminds me of another question. How am I to learn? Will +she teach me? I hope not.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Mrs. Vivyan; “we have thought you are old enough to go to +school now. There is a very good school between your aunt’s house and the +town. It is about two miles from Myrtle Hill, and you would go there every +morning and come back early in the evening.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, I like that very much,” said Arthur joyfully; “that really is jolly, +mother. Who keeps the school?”</p> + +<p>“A very nice gentleman. Your father has known him for a long time.”</p> + +<p>“He is tremendously strict, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I daresay he likes to be obeyed,” said Mrs. Vivyan; “but that is +quite right, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course,” Arthur answered. “What is his name, mother?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Carey.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t like that name,” said Arthur emphatically; “but I suppose +he can’t help that. Does he wear spectacles?”</p> + +<p>“No, I should think not,” said Mrs. Vivyan, smiling; “he is not old +enough. I think he is not quite so old as your father.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose he is rather young then. I am glad of that. I should never be +so much afraid of youngish people as of old ones.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 34]</span> +“Any more questions?” asked Mrs. Vivyan presently. “There is one question +you have not asked, Arthur, darling, that I was expecting, and it is the +one question that my heart is paining to have to answer.”</p> + +<p>“What can it be, mother?” said Arthur wonderingly. “I think I have asked a +great many. What can it be?”</p> + +<p>And then he thought for a little while very earnestly. At length a +troubled look came into his eyes, and he looked at his mother, and said +softly—</p> + +<p>“I know, mother, I know, and I am rather afraid to ask; but I must, for I +want to know. When am I going?” The question came out very slowly.</p> + +<p>“Arthur, my own darling little boy,” said his mother, pressing her arm +very closely around him, and he could hear the quiver in her voice as she +spoke, “it is very soon. We did not tell you until just at the end, when +we were obliged to do it; because what was the use of making you unhappy +before we need?”</p> + +<p>“Well, when is it?” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“It is the day after to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, mother, mother!” was all Arthur said; and he became very still +indeed.</p> + +<p>By and by he said, in a very troubled voice, “I wish I had known it +before.”</p> + +<p>“Why, dear?”</p> + +<p>“Because then—oh, mother!” said Arthur, bursting into tears, “I would +have stayed with you all the day, and I would not have done anything you +don’t like.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 35]</span> +And then the tears came into his mother’s eyes, and she said tenderly—</p> + +<p>“But I knew it, Arthur dear, and I kept you with me as much as I could. +And, my darling, you do not often do things I don’t like.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes I do, mother, very often!” said Arthur, sobbing still.</p> + +<p>“Well, dear, if you do, I know that with it all you really do love me.”</p> + +<p>Arthur gave her hand a passionate squeeze, and said, “Indeed, indeed I do, +mother.”</p> + +<p>And then Arthur said no more, but fell into a grave fit of musing. +Presently he roused himself, and said, “But, mamma, how can I go in two +days? Are there not things to be done? Mustn’t I have a lot of new +clothes, and ever so many things?”</p> + +<p>“But, don’t you see,” said Mrs. Vivyan with a smile, half amused and half +sad, “I have known it for a long time, and I have been making arrangements +that my little boy knew nothing about.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” said Arthur with a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>“Would you like to see some of the things that you are going to take away +with you?” asked his mother.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think I should,” said Arthur; but he spoke so hesitatingly; for +dearly as he liked preparations for a journey, he remembered with a bitter +pang what the preparations were for, and what the cause of the journey +was.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 36]</span> +Mrs. Vivyan opened the door of a small room adjoining her own, which was +generally kept locked, and where, Arthur knew, he was not expected to go +without being allowed. There was a large table near the window; it was +covered with various things; there was a leather writing-case, a new +paint-box, and a Polyglot Bible; there were several new books too, and a +very large pile of new clothes, but they did not take up much of Arthur’s +attention. His quick eyes soon detected a fishing rod and cricket bat, +that stood in the corner of the room near by; indeed there seemed to be +nothing that his kind father and mother had not provided. He noticed +something else that was there, and that was a Russia-leather purse; and +when he took it to examine the inside he found that it was not empty—the +first thing he saw was a five pound note!</p> + +<p>“Oh, mamma!” said Arthur breathlessly; “who is all that money for?”</p> + +<p>“Who do you think?” she asked, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose for me,” said Arthur; “but, mother, is all that really +for me? It will last until you come back.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think so?” said Mrs. Vivyan. “Well, I hope you will use it well, +and show that you can be trusted with so much.”</p> + +<p>“Is it to buy new clothes with, when I want any?” asked Arthur.</p> + +<p>“No; I don’t think you could quite manage that,” +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 37]</span> said his mother, +laughing; “besides, look at all the new clothes you have; don’t you think +they will last until I come back?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; I do use a great many clothes, certainly,” said Arthur +thoughtfully, as he remembered various rents in more than one of his +little coats; “and boots, oh, yes, my boots must cost a great deal.”</p> + +<p>The next day Arthur devoted to taking a farewell ramble through the +grounds; and in roaming through all the places in the country around, that +he knew so well. He visited every little hiding-place, to which he and his +companion had given names of their own, and then he sat down on the top of +a high mound near the house, where on one of his birthdays a flagstaff had +been planted. The gay-coloured flag was floating in the breeze now, and +Arthur wondered whether if any one else came to live at Ashton Grange they +would take down the flagstaff; “at any rate,” he thought, “I will take +down the flag. I think it is nicer that it should be folded up while we +are all away. Oh, yes, and then it will be all ready to put up again, when +we all come back, if we ever do come back again to this place. Let me see, +I shall be almost a man then. Fancy me a man. I wonder what kind of a man +I shall be. Like papa, I daresay; and yet they say I am like mother. I +should think a man like mother would be very queer.”</p> + +<p>And Arthur began painting fancy pictures of the time when his father’s +term in India should be over; and<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 38]</span> +though it was very pleasant to do it, +and the things that he intended to happen then, were very much to his +fancy, yet it was with a little sigh of regret that he said to himself, +“But any way, I shall never be mother’s little boy any more.”</p> + +<p>Then Arthur took out his new pocket knife and carved his name upon the +flagstaff. “How odd if anybody sees it while we are away,” he thought; +“they will wonder whose name it is. Shall I put Arthur T. Vivyan? No, I +think not, that might be Thomas. I should not like any one to think my +name was Thomas.”</p> + +<p>So, after an hour’s diligent labour, the name appeared, “Arthur Trevor +Vivyan.”</p> + +<p>And then he sat down to take a last long look at everything. It was late +in the afternoon, and the sun was shining with its soft spring gilding, +sparkling through the ivy, and making the shadows of the woods look +deeper. It was shining with a ruddy glow on the windows of the house, +every window that he knew so well. There was his mother’s room. Arthur +always thought hers was the nicest window, and he used to be very glad +that the roses climbed up there, and clustered lovingly around it. There +was the little window on the landing over the hall door; where he +remembered, on more than one occasion, he had made nurse very angry, +by wishing to try if he could not climb out there, and plant himself on +the top of the porch, so as to look like a statue. Then there was the +drawing-room window, with the green<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 39]</span> +Venetian blinds half drawn up, and +the bright colours appearing from inside. Lastly, he looked to the +nursery, where, oh, so often! he had watched for little Mildred’s +white-robed figure to appear. How pleased she used to be, when he +stood where he was now! It was a sad, sad sever to Arthur’s heart; only +everything seemed so dark and sad just now, that he had not thought much +about Mildred lately; but his eyes followed the sunlight on, far away, +until they rested on one fair green spot amongst the trees, where he knew +that a little green mound was covering his baby sister’s form; and as all +the sad things that had happened so lately came into Arthur’s mind, and he +thought of how different it had been a little while ago, he covered his +face with his hands, and the sobs came thick and fast.</p> + +<p>So that when after a little while he came indoors, and wandered into the +room where he expected to find his mother, she saw that his eyes were red +with crying, and she knew that his heart was as sad as her own. But she +said brightly, “Arthur, I want you to help me. See, here are piles of your +things, and I want you to help me to count them over, and to put down how +many there are of each; that is what we call an inventory, and you must +have an inventory, of course.” Arthur was quite pleased with this idea, +and presently he was very busy helping his mother. When it was all done, +when the last little garment was laid neatly in the box, and the nice +presents that had been given to him were stored +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 40]</span> away underneath, and +Arthur’s mother was resting in her armchair in the firelight, he drew his +stool to her feet, and laid his head lovingly on her lap; and his mother +felt the hot tears fall on her hands, and she saw that the brown curls +were trembling with his crying, and she knew that the same thought was in +his mind that had just been aching in hers—“For the last time!”</p> + +<p>But Arthur did not cry long, for he was trying hard not to make her more +unhappy than she was, and presently he stopped, and became very still, and +after a little while he said softly—</p> + +<p>“Talk to me, mamma.”</p> + +<p>“What shall I say, dear?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you know, mother! you always know the right things to say.”</p> + +<p>“And yet, Arthur,” said his mother, after a very long pause, and speaking +in a soft, low voice, as if she was afraid to speak louder, “I do not know +what to say now, dear; for I never could say all that is in my heart. I +can only say it to God about you, my own child.”</p> + +<p>“Do you often pray for me, mother? I don’t think I ever miss praying for +you any day.”</p> + +<p>“You are always in my heart, Arthur; and so when my heart rises to God, it +bears you with it.”</p> + +<p>“How nice it is to have a mother,” said Arthur in a restful voice, “even +although—” and then he stopped; for he thought it was better to say no +more.</p> + +<p>“After all, it is not so very, very far to India,” said +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 41]</span> Arthur. “How long +would a telegram take getting there?”</p> + +<p>“About two or three hours.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, I wish I could be turned into a telegram!” sighed Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but,” said Mrs. Vivyan, laughing, “that would be only doing one +little bit of good, and I want my Arthur to be of some use all the day +long.”</p> + +<p>“How can I,” asked Arthur, “without you?”</p> + +<p>“Do you know who you belong to before me?” said his mother. “You know, +Arthur, you have told me, and I believe it is true, that you have put your +trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, and that His blood has washed all your +sins away. Then, if that is true of you, you are your own no longer. You +belong to Him; for He has bought you with a price. Is it not sweet, my +darling, to feel that He says to you now, while you are being left at +home, ‘Thou art mine’? You know I love to take care of you, because you +are mine; and don’t you think He does much more? You know the Bible says +that a mother may forget, but God <em>never</em>.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, mother, it is so nice to hear you talk,” said Arthur. “Go on, +please.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I was going to say, the Lord Jesus is always the best Friend; and +now that you are going to leave me, perhaps you will think of Him, and +look to Him, more than you have ever done before. Oh, Arthur, my child, +get to know Him better; talk to Him<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 42]</span> +as you have talked to me; tell Him +about your little troubles, and joys, and sorrows; tell Him when you feel +lonely and weary, and sit at His feet, just as you are now sitting at +mine. Do you think He would turn you away? Just pour out your heart before +Him, whatever is in it, because He loves you as only He can love.”</p> + +<p>“But, mamma, I can’t see Him as I see you.”</p> + +<p>“No, my child; but that is where faith comes in. You must believe when you +do not see; and remember that He said, ‘Blessed are they that have not +seen, and yet have believed.’”</p> + +<p>“Mother, I think you were going to say something else,” said Arthur, after +a little while.</p> + +<p>“Yes; I was talking about the first half of the text I had in my mind, and +that I give you to keep from me—‘Whose I am, and whom I serve,’ I want +you to know the sweetness of the first, my darling, and then I think you +will want the last to be true of you, and He will show you the way.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” said Arthur meditatively, “I ought to be patient, and +gentle, and thoughtful; and, you know, mamma, it is just my nature to be +the opposite, and I don’t know how on earth I can be all that to that +aunt.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hush, dear! Of course you could not be expected to love her much at +first; but that ought not to make any difference; for it is to please the +Lord Jesus that you are to be all this, and the harder it is for you the +more He will know that you really do try to please +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 43]</span> Him. Then, are there +not other ways? I mean things that you could do to bring honour to Him. +Think of your being the means of bringing God’s salvation to anybody, or +of making the heart of any of His people glad.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Arthur said, “and I think I could try. I could give away tracts, or +I could visit sick old women.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and you might speak for Him.”</p> + +<p>“If He will help me,” said Arthur reverently; “but that is a great deal +more difficult, mother.”</p> + +<p>They did not talk much more that night, for it was getting late, and +Arthur sat looking at the lights and shadows in the burning coals. Out of +doors the fair spring evening had darkened into a gusty night; and the +wind was sighing in the trees, and blowing the rose-bushes against the +windows. It was very comfortable sitting there on the hearth-rug with his +head on his mother’s lap. Arthur felt so very safe, and it seemed to him +that he could not be very unhappy, whatever happened to him, so long as he +could be there. And he did not dare think of what it would be, when miles +and miles of land and sea would stretch between him and this sweet, +well-known resting-place. He would enjoy it for this last time without +thinking of the dark, dreary to-morrow that was coming.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 44]</span><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 465px;"> +<img src="images/img43.jpg" width="465" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>THE PARTING.</strong></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 28px;"> +<img src="images/img-i.png" width="28" height="60" alt="I" title="" /> +</div><p>T had to come at length. Arthur awoke that morning with a great, dreary +burden pressing on his heart, and a feeling of half horror, and half +unbelieving, that it could really be true.</p> + +<p>He hardly knew how he dressed, and he did not notice that the daylight had +not changed the dreariness of last night’s weather; for a chill mist was +falling outside, and if he had looked for the fields and hills near he +would have found them all hidden in the damp fog.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vivyan was waiting for him in the breakfast-room, and presently, as +she stood there, the door opened, and a very solemn-looking face appeared. +Arthur had been nerving himself for this time; he had been trying very +hard not to cry; and he had succeeded pretty well until now, although on +the way down stairs he had to bite his lips very hard as he felt the tears +in his eyes. But now, as he came into the warm, comfortable room, and +noticed everything there, it was no use trying to keep it in any longer. +His mother had provided that morning everything he liked best, he could +see that.</p> + +<p>“Come, dear,” she said, “you must make a good +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 45]</span> breakfast to please me, you +know, Arthur.” Her own face was very, very pale, and Arthur little knew +the intense effort it was to her to speak at all. So he sat down in his +own little chair, and was very still and silent for some moments; but +presently Mrs. Vivyan saw him moving his cup of coffee away, and when +there was a clear space before him he threw his arms on the table and +buried his head there. It was only just in time; for a very bitter cry +broke from his heart and his lips: “Oh, mamma, mamma, I can’t go! Oh, do +stay with me! Don’t you think you ought to stay?”</p> + +<p>What could she say? What could she do, but lift up her heart to her refuge +and strength?</p> + +<p>While she was doing this, Arthur’s sobs gradually ceased, and presently he +said, in a little broken voice, “I did not mean to do it, mother; I did +try not.”</p> + +<p>But he could not eat much breakfast, and after a little while he came +nearer to her side, and said, “Just let me stay until papa comes for me. I +don’t want you to talk. I only want to stay here.” For Mr. Vivyan had gone +into the town, not intending to come back until just before the time, when +he would come to fetch Arthur away to the new home, where his heart +certainly was not.</p> + +<p>So they did not speak at all during that hour; only Arthur sat with his +head pressed very closely on his mother’s shoulder, and holding her hands +in both his, as if he would never loosen his hold.</p> + +<p>By and by there was a brisk step in the hall, and out of doors carriage +wheels could be heard on the road; +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 46]</span> and then Mrs. Vivyan lifted the curly +head, that was leaning on her shoulder. Arthur knew what it meant—the +bitterest moment that had ever come to him was now at hand—and it was +only a few minutes, before the good-bye would begin the five long years of +separation.</p> + +<p>Everything was ready, and he had only to put on his coat and comforter. He +was in a kind of maze, as he felt the warm coat put on him, and as his +mother’s white hands tied the scarf round his neck. Then her arms were +pressed very closely around him, and as he lay there like a helpless +little baby, he could just hear her whispered farewell, “Good-bye, my own +child; may God take care of you.” Then Arthur felt that his father’s hand +was holding his, and that he was leading him away. Suddenly he remembered +something that he had forgotten. “Oh, father!” he said, “please stop a +moment; I must do something I forgot.” This was a tiny white paper parcel, +which he had been keeping for this last moment, in a hidden corner +upstairs. Arthur ran up to the place, and bringing it down he put it in +his mother’s hands, and said, “That’s what I made for you, mother.”</p> + +<p>She did not open it until he was gone; and perhaps it was well that Arthur +did not see the passion of tears that were shed over that little parcel. +It was only a piece of ivory carved in the shape of a horseshoe, or rather +there was an attempt at carving it in that shape; and on a slip of paper +was written, in Arthur’s round hand, “For my own dear mother to wear while +I am away. This is to be made into a brooch.”</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 47]</span><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 445px;"> +<img src="images/img46.jpg" width="445" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>MYRTLE HILL; OR, THE NEW HOME.</strong></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 63px;"> +<img src="images/img-w.png" width="63" height="58" alt="W" title="" /> +</div><p>HEN Arthur Vivyan was looking forward, with such feelings of dread, he +did not know that his aunt was hardly less anxiously expecting his +arrival; and that, much as he feared what living with her would be, her +thoughts had been very troubled ones on the same subject. She had lived +alone for so many years now, and as she said, she was so little accustomed +to children, she was afraid that her young nephew would find her home +deary and sad; that she might not understand him herself, or that she +might be foolishly indulgent and blind to the faults, which might make him +grow useless and miserable. She had spent many anxious hours thinking of +all this, and laying plans about the care she would take of him, and all +the ways in which she would try to make him happy and contented.</p> + +<p>Arthur and his father had left Ashton by an afternoon train, which did not +bring them into the town, near Mrs. Estcourt’s house, until it was quite +dark. It was a very cheerless journey to Arthur. Generally he liked +travelling by the railway, and when he took his seat by his father’s side, +his spirits rose very high as they passed +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 48]</span> quickly along, and the new +scenes and sights, that he watched from the carriage window, occupied his +attention pretty fully.</p> + +<p>But this time it was quite different. His mother’s sweet, sad farewell was +still sounding in his ears; and as the train rushed along on its way, he +knew that it was bearing him farther and farther away from her, and from +the home where he had lived so long. He could hardly have explained his +own feelings; only a very dreary aching was in his heart; and as he +thought of the strange new place, where he was going, and then of the +miles and miles of land and sea, that would soon lie between himself and +his father and mother, he felt very strange and desolate, and you would +hardly have recognized the grave, serious-looking face as Arthur Vivyan’s.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was that expression that drew the attention of an old +gentleman, who was sitting opposite to him. At any other time, Arthur +would have been inclined to be amused at this old gentleman; for he came +into the carriage, bringing so many parcels and wraps, that for some +little time he was stowing them away, talking all the while to nobody in +particular, and finishing every sentence with “Eh?”</p> + +<p>“Going to school, my boy—eh?” he asked at length, after he had looked at +Arthur’s mournful face for some little time.</p> + +<p>Arthur did not feel much inclined to talk just then, so he only said “No;” +and then remembering that, in +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 49]</span> fact, he was to go to school while he was +living at his aunt’s, he was obliged to say, “At least, yes.”</p> + +<p>“‘No’ and ‘yes’ both; not quite sure—eh?” asked the old gentleman.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Vivyan turned round, and explained that his son was going to live +with his aunt, and that he would go to school from her house.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s it—eh? Fine times for you then, young man. When I was a boy +things were different with me, I can tell you. Hundred boys where I was; +and I was one of the little fellows, who had to make it easy for the big +ones. Up at six in the morning—coldest winter mornings. Never had a +chance of getting near the fire; never went home for the winter holidays. +How would you like that—eh?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose I should like it at all,” said Arthur. But he thought in +his own mind, that his case was not much better.</p> + +<p>After a few more remarks from his old friend opposite, when he saw him +pull his cap over his face and settle himself to sleep, he was more +pleased than otherwise.</p> + +<p>Poor little Arthur! He thought he was feeling desolate enough; and as he +sat by his father’s side, and thought that even he would soon be far away, +it made him feel inclined to cling more closely to him than he had ever +done before; so that, when the jolting of the train made his head knock +against his father’s shoulder, he let it stay there, and presently he +found his father’s strong<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 50]</span> +arm was around him, and Arthur felt that he +loved him more than he had ever done before.</p> + +<p>“Cheer up, Arthur, my boy,” he heard him say presently, and his voice had +a softer sound, than it sometimes had, he thought. “We may all be very +happy yet some day together, and not very long, you know. Five years soon +pass, you know, Arthur.”</p> + +<p>But five years had a very long, dreary sound to him just then. In fact, he +could not bear to think of it at all; and he was afraid that if he thought +or spoke on the subject, that he should cry, which he did not wish to do +just then; so he gave a very deep, long sigh.</p> + +<p>By and by he went to sleep. Perhaps it was because he had spent several +waking hours the night before, and that this day had been a dinnerless one +for him; but so it was, and when he awoke it was to a scene of confusion +and bustle, for they had arrived at their journey’s end, and the guard was +calling aloud, “Oldbridge.”</p> + +<p>Arthur rubbed his sleepy eyes, as the station lights flashed brightly, and +the train came to a sudden stop. “Come, Arthur, my boy, here we are. Make +haste and open your eyes. We have a drive before us, so you will have time +to wake up on the way to your aunt’s,” said Mr. Vivyan, as they threaded +their way along the crowded platform.</p> + +<p>It was a very dark night; there was no moon, and thick clouds shut out the +starlight. Oldbridge station stood at the extreme end of the town, and in +order to<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 51]</span> reach Myrtle Hill, +they must drive along a country road of two +or three miles. In summer time this was a very pleasant way, for the trees +sheltered it on one side, while the other was bordered with a hedgerow and +wide-spreading fields; but now on this dark night, nothing of all this was +seen, and Arthur wondered what kind of a place they were passing through. +When he had made little pictures in his mind of their arrival at +Oldbridge, they had not been at all what the reality was. He had imagined +a drive through a busy town, where they would pass through street after +street, and that the bright gas would light the way, and show him the +place and the things that they passed.</p> + +<p>“What kind of a place are we in, father?” asked Arthur. “There seem to be +no houses—I hope the man knows the way—and they have no light at all.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I think certainly a little light would be desirable; but the people +here don’t seem to think so. Well, never mind, we shall have light enough +by and by. It will be pleasant to see aunt’s snug, warm house, won’t it, +Arthur?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Arthur; but his answer was a very faint one; for he thought of +another warm, bright home that he knew very well; and that there was some +one there, sitting in the old chair, and that the rug at her feet was +empty, and he had to smother a bitter sob that arose, and hold himself +very still, as a shivering feeling passed over him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 52]</span> +But presently Arthur’s quick eye caught a bright gleam, shining through +the darkness, and soon he found that it was a lamp over a gateway, and +that they were nearing their destination. The lamp showed just enough for +him to see, that inside the gateway a broad gravel walk led up to the +house between thick laurel bushes; and soon the sound of the wheels +grating over the gravel, told him that they were driving up the avenue, +and would soon be there. His father began to collect their rugs and +packages, and seemed to be very contented that they had arrived. As for +Arthur himself he hardly knew what he felt; not particularly glad, +certainly; for there was far too dreary and heavy a feeling at his heart +just then, to leave room for much gladness; still, he was very tired and +cold, and perhaps even hungry, so that it was with some feeling of +satisfaction that he felt the carriage stop, and looking out he saw the +warm firelight from within, dancing on the curtained windows, and shining +through the windows in the hall.</p> + +<p>It was not very long before they were standing inside the hall door; and +Arthur had just one minute to look about him while his father was taking +off his great coat. Any one who took notice of things could see that no +children belonged to Myrtle Hill. Everything was in the most perfect +order. The hair mats were white and unruffled, the chairs were placed in +an orderly manner against the wall, and no dust lay upon them. Just as +Arthur was looking round with an admiring eye, one of +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 53]</span> the doors opened; +and a lady appeared, that he knew was his aunt. It was almost like a new +introduction to him, for he had not seen her for a very long time, and +then only for a day or two. She greeted her brother very warmly, and then +she turned to him. “And so this is Arthur,” she said; and it was almost +timidly that she spoke, for she was almost as much afraid of her little +nephew, as he was of her. “Ronald, he is a great deal more like Louisa +than you. His eyes are like hers.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I believe he is generally considered to be so,” said Mr. Vivyan, +smiling. “A great compliment; don’t you think so yourself, Arthur?”</p> + +<p>Arthur always had a very peculiar feeling when people looked at him, and +said who he was like. He did not very much approve of it on the whole; and +once he had confidentially asked his mother why the ladies and gentlemen +who came to Ashton Grange did not make remarks about her face, and say who +they thought she was like. At present he was making use of his blue eyes +in taking an accurate account of his aunt.</p> + +<p>Well, she was nice. Yes, he thought he should love her. She had a sweet +sound in her voice, and a gentle expression about her mouth, that made him +think she could not be unkind. She was not like his own mother in the +least; she was not nearly so pretty, Arthur thought. His mother had pink +on her cheeks, and a smile on her lips; but <em>her</em> face was very pale and +colourless, her eyes were very deep and sad ones, and when she looked at +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 54]</span> +him they seemed so large and dark, and as if they were saying what she did +not speak with her lips. He felt he would love his aunt; but he was not +quite sure that he would not be a little afraid of her, at first at any +rate.</p> + +<p>“You must be quite ready for something to eat,” said Mrs. Estcourt, as she +led the way to the drawing-room. “You dined before you came away, Ronald, +of course.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I did; but Arthur did not. I don’t think he has had much to eat all +day, poor boy.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt looked very much surprised as she said, “Why, how could that +be, Arthur? I thought boys were always hungry.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I think I am generally,” said Arthur, “only I was not to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” said his aunt.</p> + +<p>“Don’t ask me why, please,” said Arthur in a low voice, “or else perhaps I +might cry, and I don’t want to do that.”</p> + +<p>She seemed to understand him, for she asked no more questions; only she +took his hand as they went into the drawing-room, and as Arthur looked in +her face, he thought there was something in her deep eyes, that reminded +him of his mother.</p> + +<p>If the hall at Myrtle Hill was neat and orderly, the drawing-room surely +was equally so. There seemed to be everything in the room, that one could +possibly want; and a great many that seemed to Arthur to be of no +particular use. He could not help thinking of the difference there would +be in that room, if he and Hector were +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 55]</span> to have a round in it. But it was +very bright and comfortable, he thought; and this opinion seemed to be +shared by a large white dog that lay in front of the fire. “Great, sleepy +thing,” thought Arthur; “I would not give old Hector for ten cats like +that.”</p> + +<p>The tea-table itself was a very attractive object to his eyes just then; +and he turned his attention to it now. Arthur thought it looked rather in +keeping with the rest of the room. The silver teapot and cream-jug were +bright and shining, but they were rather small; and he could not help +thinking that it would take a great many of those daintily-cut slices of +bread and butter, to satisfy his appetite; so he was glad to see a +good-sized loaf on a table near, and other more substantial things which +had been added for the travellers. Indeed he need not have been afraid of +not having enough to eat, for his aunt, in her ignorance of boyish +appetites, would not have been surprised, if he had consumed all that was +before him. So that Arthur had to be quite distressed, that he could not +please her by eating everything.</p> + +<p>“I wonder what she lives on herself,” he thought, as he noticed the one +tiny slice lying almost undiminished on her plate; “and I wonder how I +should feel if I did not eat more than that.”</p> + +<p>By and by they drew their chairs to the fire, and Mrs. Estcourt gave +Arthur a beautifully-ornamented hand-screen to shade the heat from his +face; as he sat with his feet on the fender, listening to his father’s and +aunt’s conversation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 56]</span> +“Well, you have a snug little place here,” said Mr. Vivyan.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose so,” Mrs. Estcourt said; but she sighed as she spoke.</p> + +<p>“It seems like old times, eh, Daisy?”</p> + +<p>A light shone on her face for a minute and then was gone, as she said, +“’Tis very odd to hear any one call me that, Ronald. I have not heard it +since——,” and then that deep look of pain came again. But as she looked +at Arthur almost a merry smile curled the corners of her mouth, and she +said, “Arthur thinks so too, I know.”</p> + +<p>This was true; for he had just been thinking that if his aunt was like a +flower at all, she was more like a lily or a snowdrop, or a very white +violet. But he only said, “Is that what I shall have to call you, then? +Aunt Daisy! that sounds rather funny, I think.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt laughed and said, “Well, I think perhaps it does; so if you +like you can say Aunt Margaret.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t like that at all!” said Arthur in a very decided tone. “No, +please; I would rather say the other; and I think perhaps you are like a +daisy when you can’t see the red.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you are a funny little boy,” Mrs. Estcourt said; and she laughed +quite merrily.</p> + +<p>“Arthur,” said his father, “you are forgetting your good manners, I am +afraid;” but he seemed rather amused himself.</p> + +<p>“Do you often say those funny things, Arthur?” asked his aunt.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 57]</span> +“I believe he is rather given to speaking his mind freely,” said Mr. +Vivyan.</p> + +<p>“Did I say anything rude?” asked Arthur, looking up earnestly into his +aunt’s face.</p> + +<p>“No, dear, nothing at all; only, you know, I am not accustomed to little +boys; and so perhaps that is why the things they say sound odd to me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, aunt,” said Arthur, “mind, if I seem to say rude things I don’t +mean them; I don’t really; and I should be very sorry to say rude things +to you, because I think I like you.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t say so,” said Mr. Vivyan, laughing.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Estcourt did not laugh; she stooped down and kissed Arthur; and +then she held his hand in hers for a little while, so that it almost felt +to him as if it was some one else’s hand, and, though it was very pleasant +to have such a kind aunt, that he felt he would love, it brought a +strange, choking feeling into his throat, and his eyes felt as if they +would like to cry; so he suddenly jumped up, and said—</p> + +<p>“I think I should like to go to bed.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt took him up herself into the room that was to be his own. It +was a pretty, pleasant room, and a bright fire was burning in the grate. +There seemed to have been a great deal of thought, spent on the comfort of +the person who was to sleep there; and Arthur almost smiled, if he could +have smiled at anything then, as his aunt hoped he would not want +anything, and said she would send him a night-light presently.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 58]</span> +“No, thank you,” he said; “I always sleep in the dark.”</p> + +<p>“You are a brave boy, I suppose,” said Mrs. Estcourt.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” Arthur said; “but mother always says it is wrong to be +afraid.”</p> + +<p>“Wrong?” asked his aunt.</p> + +<p>“Yes; because don’t you know, aunt, we ought to trust in God, mother +says.”</p> + +<p>“Then are you never afraid, dear Arthur?” his aunt was just going to say; +but as she looked at him she saw that his lips were trembling, and that +the tears were filling his eyes; for the mention of his mother’s name was +bringing memories to Arthur, and he was thinking of the times in the old +nursery at Ashton Grange, when he used to be frightened sometimes in the +dark; and she had sat with him then, and told him about the angels of the +Lord encamping round about them that fear Him, and about the kind, tender +Lord Jesus, who takes care of all who put their trust in Him.</p> + +<p>So she only put her arms around him, and kissed him very tenderly; and +then she went away. It was only just in time; for as Arthur heard the door +shut behind her, and knew that nobody would see or hear him, the tears +that had been burning under his eyes all the evening came at last, and +Arthur threw himself sobbing upon his bed. But his grief did not last long +that night, for he was very tired and sleepy. He was excited too with the +strange scenes and places, through which he had passed, and on which he +was just entering; so it was not very long before he was sleeping as +soundly in the white<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 59]</span> +curtained bed, that his aunt had taken such pains to +prepare for him, as he had ever done in the old room at Ashton Grange. +That room was empty now. The little bed was there with the coverlet +undisturbed, but no curly head lay on the pillow; and as Arthur’s mother +stood there thinking of her little boy, and of the miles that lay between +them, and that soon the broad ocean sweep would separate her from her +child, her heart sank very low, and she thought that she was like Rachael, +weeping for her children. But she was comforted, for she knew the comfort +of having a Friend, who had borne her griefs and carried her sorrows; and +when her heart was overwhelmed within her she said, “Lead me to the Rock +that is higher than I;” and He said to her, “None of them that trust in +Him shall be desolate.” She listened to His word that says, “Trust in Him +at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before Him. God is a refuge +for us.”</p> + +<p>Is it not a happy thing, when a heart is full and bursting—so full that +it cannot contain—to know that there is One, whose name is Love, before +whom that heart can be poured out? Is it not the place where the Master +would have His disciples, sitting at His feet, hearing His word? And is +not that the cure for being careful and troubled about many things? And if +our hearts have chosen that good part, we know that He has promised that +it shall not be taken away. And as Arthur’s mother thought of this, she +said, “Hide me under the shadow of thy wings.”</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 60]</span><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 472px;"> +<img src="images/img59.jpg" width="472" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>LEFT ALONE.</strong></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 47px;"> +<img src="images/img-a.png" width="47" height="60" alt="A" title="" /> +</div><p>RTHUR had been very tired the night before; so that the spring sun was +shining quite brightly, when he found himself lying awake in his new room. +Indeed, he did not know whether he would have awaked even then, if he had +not heard a knocking at his door, and then a voice saying—</p> + +<p>“If you please shall I light your fire?”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you,” said Arthur; and then to himself he added, “I’m not quite +such a muff as that!” Then he began to examine his room. “I wonder is this +going to be my room always!” thought Arthur. “’Tis much nicer than my room +at home, only I don’t like it half so well; indeed, I don’t.”</p> + +<p>It was a very pretty room certainly. The paper on the wall was bright and +soft-looking, with a pattern of bunches of spring flowers, tied with +silver ribbon. The carpet was something of the same sort, and it reminded +him of primroses hidden in the grass. The window-curtains were spotlessly +white, with green cords, and the chair-coverings were a soft green.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 61]</span> +“Yes; it certainly is a very nice room,” said Arthur to himself, after +looking round and examining everything; “but I think it is a great deal +more like a girl’s room than a boy’s. What can she think I want with such +a lot of looking-glasses? And I suppose she thinks I like reading and +writing very much;” for he saw that the book-shelves were well filled, +and that in the corner of the room there was a small table, where a +writing-case and inkstand stood. “Well, she may think so. I expect she +will soon find out her mistake.”</p> + +<p>Arthur was more cheerful this morning, than he had been the evening +before. It was natural to him to feel hopeful in the morning. He liked the +feeling of awaking in a strange place. At least he had always liked it +hitherto; though with the pleasant feeling of excitement and interest it +brought, there came a dreamy heart-sinking too; for he could not forget, +that this was to be no visit, but that he was to live on here for years +and years without his mother.</p> + +<p>But the sun was shining very brightly into his room, and as he stood +waiting for some call downstairs; he thought he would like to see what +kind of surroundings belonged to his new home.</p> + +<p>Very different was the view he now saw from the country that lay around +Ashton Grange. From the highest window there, the view extended over only +a few miles, and the green wooded hills that arose, not so very far off, +marked the horizon to the pretty country<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 62]</span> +scene that Arthur knew so well; +but here a wide stretch of country lay beneath him, undulating here and +there, but spreading far on, covered with fields and trees, and dotted +with hamlets, until it faded away into grey distance. The sun had risen +not long before, and the rosy beams were falling on the country, lighting +with a ruddy radiance the windows of the cottages, and sparkling on the +little river that was winding peacefully through the pasture land. It was +a very sweet scene, and Arthur felt its beauty. He could not see the town, +where they arrived the night before; for a stretch of woodland near by +shut it out from his sight.</p> + +<p>Having looked at the distant hills, he now turned his attention to the +objects nearer home. How very neatly the gravel walks were rolled. The +grass was smooth and evenly cut; not even the little daisies were allowed +to peep their modest heads from the lawn. “Well, I wonder aunt cuts off +all the heads of her namesakes,” said Arthur to himself. His window was at +the side of the house, and he could see that the garden surrounded it on +all sides, and that the low trees that led down to the arbour gave their +name to Myrtle Hill. It was early spring-time yet, and not very many +flowers were blooming; only here and there bright-coloured tufts of +crocuses and primroses were shining on the brown earth, and the snowdrops +were shaking their bended heads, in the morning breeze. Arthur looked at +it all, and wondered whether he should ever be as familiar with this +place, as<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 63]</span> +he was with the home far away. This thought led him into a +reverie, and he began to wonder what every one was doing at this time +there—who was feeding Hector; and would the gardener’s boy remember to +water the seeds; though he remembered with a deep sigh that it did not +matter very much, as long before they would be in bloom, Ashton Grange +would be empty and deserted; and this thought was a very dreary one. +Arthur was beginning to feel very dismal again. The changing spring sky, +too, had become overclouded; the morning sun was hidden, and it seemed as +if a shower was going to fall. There was a prospect of a shower indoors, +too; for Arthur dashed the tear-drops from his eyes, and said, “I won’t +cry; no, I won’t; I’m always crying now. I wonder how mother can keep from +it so well. Well, perhaps when I am as old as she is I shall be able; or, +perhaps I shall be like papa, and not want to cry. I wonder if he does +ever; it would be queer to see father cry. Perhaps he did when he was in +India by himself.”</p> + +<p>And Arthur almost laughed to himself at the idea. Presently a bell +sounded through the house. “I suppose,” thought Arthur, “that is the +breakfast-bell; it ought to be by this time. But then, suppose it should +not be; suppose it should be some bell that I have nothing to do with; it +would not be at all pleasant to go down. I think I will wait for a little, +and see; but then, if it should be the breakfast-bell, aunt will think I +am a lazy thing. So what shall I do? I will go.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 64]</span> +And so saying, Arthur opened his door in a determined manner, walking +along the corridor; where some canaries were hung in a cage, making his +ears quite aware of their presence. Notwithstanding the courage with which +he had left his room, it was with a cautious step he came near the +dining-room, and opening the door very gently he was quite relieved to see +that his father and his aunt were both there.</p> + +<p>As he came into the room Mrs. Estcourt was talking to his father, and she +seemed in rather an anxious state of mind, as he listened to her with an +amused expression on his face. “You know, Ronald, you—you really must +begin breakfast, the carriage will be coming round in no time. And you are +not nearly ready, dear Arthur,” she said, giving him a hurried kiss. +“Where are the railway rugs and the shawls? Your father will want them; +for it is a cold morning.”</p> + +<p>“Now, my dear sister,” said Arthur’s father, putting his hand on her +shoulder, “don’t be putting yourself into a fuss about nothing; I always +take my time, and I think I generally manage to come in all right in the +end. I want some breakfast, please, when you are ready, Daisy. Good +morning, my darling little boy,” and Mr. Vivyan put his arm very tightly +round Arthur’s neck, and gave him such a kiss, as he had never remembered +having had from him before. “Now, don’t cry, Arthur,” he said; for this +loving embrace from his father was bringing the tears into his eyes again. +“Do you know what I was<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 65]</span> +thinking about, when I was looking out of my +window this morning? I was thinking of you; and I came to the conclusion +that you ought to think yourself very well off. Here you are with an aunt +who is going to make ever so much of you, I can see; going to live in a +most beautiful country, with a school near, where, of course, the boys +will be pleasant companions if you are pleasant to them; a half-holiday +every Saturday; a father and mother gone away for a little while, thinking +of you all the day; and a letter from India—I won’t say how often. Ah, it +was very different when you and I were young! Eh, Daisy?”</p> + +<p>“No. I think I was very happy then,” said Mrs. Estcourt. “I am sure our +grandfather and grandmother were just as good as any one could be.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; for you, my dear, I daresay they were; but I was not you, you know. +Well, I’m very glad some times have not to come over again. I suppose +Arthur is feeling that just now.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Vivyan himself seemed very well contented with his present position, +and Arthur thought so.</p> + +<p>“Father,” he said presently, “as I have to stay in England, of course I +would rather be with Aunt Daisy than with any one else, and I think this +is a very pretty place indeed. But you don’t know how frightfully I wish I +was going to India with you. Don’t you wish you could take me, father?” +asked Arthur a little wistfully.</p> + +<p>“My dear little boy, I wish it so much, that it is one +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 66]</span> of the things it +is better not to think about. And then, you know, you must always look on +the bright side of things, and there are plenty of bright sides for you. +Just think of all the bright sides I have been showing you. Now, let us +have some breakfast, or really, auntie, I shall be late.”</p> + +<p>But before Mrs. Estcourt moved, she said in a very low voice, and as if +she did not think any one else heard her—</p> + +<p>“There is not always a bright side to look at.” For she was thinking that +all the brightness had been taken away from her life’s story. Would not +Arthur’s mother have said, “If there is none anywhere else, look to where +the Lord Jesus waits to bless you, saying, ‘Your heart shall rejoice;’ and +then the light of His love would make the shadiest life shine with a +summer gleaming?”</p> + +<p>Arthur’s appetite seemed really gone this morning, and his aunt’s +attention was too much occupied with anxiety about his father’s comfort +for the journey, to notice that he was eating hardly anything; and in the +midst of his trouble the thought came across Arthur’s mind that it was a +very good thing he was not hungry, as he felt a great deal too shy to help +himself.</p> + +<p>Presently there was the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel outside. +“Now,” said Mrs. Estcourt, starting up, “there is the carriage, Ronald; I +knew it would be here before you were ready.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Vivyan quietly, “you know one of +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 67]</span> us would have to be +ready first, and I would rather the carriage waited for me than I for it. +Besides, I am quite ready. Now, my dear sister, expend your energies in +seeing if my luggage is all right.”</p> + +<p>Then Arthur and his father were left alone.</p> + +<p>“Now, my darling boy,” Mr. Vivyan said, “come here. I want to speak to +you, and to say good-bye.”</p> + +<p>So Arthur came closer to his chair, and his father put his arms around +him, and took his hand in his.</p> + +<p>“Arthur,” he said, “perhaps you don’t know how much I love you, and how +deeply anxious I am about you, that you should grow up to be a man that +your mother need not be ashamed of. You know, Arthur, I cannot talk to you +as she does; but I pray for you every day, and now especially that I am +leaving you. But we shall have another home on earth some day, I trust; +and, better than that, you know about the home where the Lord Jesus is +waiting for those who are washed in His blood. You are going to that home, +my precious boy?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, father,” said Arthur in a low voice.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, you know you always have that to think about; and now I will +give you this text to keep from me while I am away, ‘Goodness and mercy +shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of +the Lord for ever.’ And won’t it be nice to get a letter from India!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, oh yes, father,” said Arthur, bursting into a flood of tears; “but +it would be so much nicer to be going.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 68]</span> +“Hush, hush,” said Mr. Vivyan kindly; “you know there are some things that +God has forbidden, and it is wrong to think of how nice they would be. I +suppose you cannot think of how pleasant a great many things you have are +just now, but by and by you will find it out.”</p> + +<p>This was just what Arthur was thinking. It was very strange to him to hear +his father talking in this way to him; he had never done so before; and it +made him love him as he did not know he ever could. It was quite true that +everything was looking black and gloomy, and that to try and see +brightness in his life at Myrtle Hill seemed to make the dreary feeling +more intense at his heart. But still he could lie down at the feet of the +Master who is so kind, and rest there while earthly things were so dark, +and trust Him, waiting while the violence of the storm was passing. Arthur +had answered the Shepherd’s call—“Follow thou me,” and the one who has +said that “He gathers the lambs in His arms, and carries them in His +bosom.”</p> + +<p>“And now, my boy,” said Mr. Vivyan, “God bless you and keep you; good-bye, +my own dear little boy.” Then he put his arm around Arthur’s neck, and +kissed him. A minute after, Arthur was standing by himself before the +drawing-room fire; and when presently he heard the carriage roll away, and +the sounds became gradually fainter and fainter in the distance, he felt +that he was all alone.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 69]</span> +Indeed, he hardy knew what he felt. There seemed to be a sudden quiet hush +within him, and as he looked outside the window where the carriage had +just stood, and the bustle of going away had just ceased, the quiet of +every thing seemed very still and deep. Only the little birds were just +the same, singing gaily as if nothing had happened, and the morning breeze +was brushing the myrtle trees as they did every spring morning when the +sun was making the country look glad.</p> + +<p>Presently he heard steps outside the door, and as they came nearer and +nearer, Arthur felt as if he would like to run away; for he was afraid his +aunt might talk about his father and mother, and he felt as if he could +not talk of anything just then. But he need not have been afraid, Mrs. +Estcourt was wiser than that, and she only said kindly—</p> + +<p>“Would you like to go out and look about you a little, Arthur dear? It +will not rain just yet, I think; and you may go where you like; at least, +that is, if you are accustomed to go by yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I should think I am, indeed,” said Arthur; “why I have done that ever +since I was eight.”</p> + +<p>“You won’t lose your way?” asked his aunt anxiously.</p> + +<p>“If I do, I shall have to find it again, you know, aunt,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“You are a funny little fellow,” said Mrs. Estcourt. “Well, if you get +hungry before luncheon-time, you must come and tell me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 70]</span> +Arthur thought of Hector, and how pleasant it would be if his old friend +would come bounding in answer to his whistle; then he looked at the sleepy +white-haired creature lying on the hearth-rug.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Daisy,” he said, “would you like me to take out that white fellow?”</p> + +<p>“What, dear?” said Mrs. Estcourt. “Oh, I don’t know, Arthur; I think, +perhaps, not just yet; not until you are more accustomed to it.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Arthur, as he went away; and he said to himself, “I +would quite as soon not.”</p> + +<p>Arthur felt, as he stood outside the hall door, as if all the world was +before him, to choose where he would go. He thought he would first examine +the garden, which encircled the house on all sides. A gap in the myrtle +bushes led him down a narrow path into a large space, which the fruit +trees and vegetables showed was the kitchen garden. He walked round, and +noticed how neatly the beds were kept, and that the walks even here were +stripped of weeds. Two boys who were working there, rather older than +himself, eyed him curiously. Arthur wondered whether they knew who he was; +but he felt inclined to be where there was no one else just then. So he +left the garden, and passing out through the iron gate, he found himself +on the high road, turning to walk down in the direction which they had +come the night before. Presently a sign-post stood before him, one hand +pointing to Stratton, and the other to Harford. Arthur +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 71]</span> followed the last +name along a green, flowery lane, where the wild roses were mantling their +green, and here and there an early bud was making its appearance. He +walked on for some distance, until the high road was hidden by a bend in +the lane, and the green trees began to arch overhead; and on each side, +the road was bordered with grass and green, velvety moss; the birds were +warbling soft songs in the branches, and from the wood hard by the sweet +cooing of the pigeons could be heard. It was a very pleasant spot, so much +so, that when Arthur threw himself down on the grass to rest, he said with +a deep sigh, “Well, it might be worse; and Aunt Daisy is certainly very +kind.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it might be worse,” he continued to himself; “and it is nice to +think of by and by, when they come back. Suppose they were dead!” He +shuddered at the thought. “I can quite fancy what mother will look like +when she sees me again. No; I don’t believe I can, though. How will she +feel, and how shall I feel? I suppose very different from what I do now; +for I shall be really a man then. Oh, dear! I had better not think of that +time yet. I must try and think about all the things God gives. Father said +something like that. Father was very kind to me to-day. I did not know he +could be so kind.”</p> + +<p>Arthur did not know then much about the true, deep, persistent tenderness +of a father’s love; but we know that when God spoke a word that expresses +His heart<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 72]</span> +to His people, He called Himself His children’s Father.</p> + +<p>“Let me see!” continued Arthur. “Five years, and in every year three +hundred and sixty-five days. If I multiply three hundred and sixty-five by +five, I shall know how many days I have to wait, and then I could mark off +one every day; but, oh, dear! that makes a great, great many.”</p> + +<p>So he sprang up from the grass, and walked briskly on the shady road, +where the sunlight was falling softly; for Arthur meant never to cry, +unless he could not possibly help it, and certainly not out of doors. He +wandered over a good distance—for it was pleasant exploring in the new +country—until he suddenly remembered his aunt at home, and that she would +be thinking he had lost his way. “And I must not begin by frightening +her,” said Arthur to himself.</p> + +<p>Up till this time Arthur’s first day had passed more brightly than he had +expected. It would be hard for him to be very unhappy on that spring day, +with everything rejoicing around him, and the free country breathing in +soft breezes. But it was different when he came in. The house seemed very +dark and gloomy after the cheerful sunlight, and it seemed to him as if +there was no sound of any sort indoors, except now and then a faint noise +from the servants’ regions far away; for even the canary-birds were +silent, and the fat dog was sleeping its life away upon the hearth-rug. +Indeed, Arthur<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 73]</span> +thought he could almost imagine, that the hairy creature +and the soft hearth-rug were one and the same. There seemed to be nothing +at all to do within doors, and he could not be out always. Besides, the +bright morning was fast changing, and grey, gloomy clouds were gathering +over the country. The myrtle trees were beginning to shake with a rainy +wind, and he could see that the fine weather was gone for that day.</p> + +<p>Altogether, Arthur felt very dismal as he stood at the drawing-room +window, near to where his aunt was sitting at her writing-table.</p> + +<p>“Have you had a nice walk?” she asked presently.</p> + +<p>“Yes, aunt,” said Arthur, tapping very forcibly on the window.</p> + +<p>“And what did you see?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing particular!” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt saw that she must try some other subject to talk about.</p> + +<p>“Have you anything you would like to do, dear, until dinner-time?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t think so, aunt.”</p> + +<p>“What do you generally do at home when you are not walking?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, really aunt,” Arthur answered. “I suppose I do lessons.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but I don’t want you to begin lessons just yet. Well, then, what do +you do when it is neither lessons nor walking?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 74]</span> +“Sometimes I go for messages, and sometimes I make things with my tools.”</p> + +<p>“Make things! How do you mean, dear?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I make boats and things! and I used to make wedges for a window in +mamma’s room that rattled with the wind. Have you any windows that don’t +shut quite tightly, aunt?” asked Arthur. “I could make you some by and by, +if you have.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt smiled; but she was not able to remember any window that +needed Arthur’s arrangements. So he was left to himself and the rain +again; for the drops were falling thickly against the window now. At first +he employed himself in tracing their course down the glass, but very soon +he was tired of that, and presently Mrs. Estcourt heard a heavy sigh.</p> + +<p>“That was a very deep sigh,” she said cheerily. “What did it mean?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Arthur, “partly, I think, it meant that I wish I had +something to do.”</p> + +<p>His aunt thought that boys were very curious things, and wondered what +they could do. She felt almost inclined to echo Arthur’s sigh; but she +thought a moment, and then she said—</p> + +<p>“Would you like to have a skein of wool to wind into a ball?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Arthur. He was quite glad to have even this to do. At home it +was not the occupation he generally chose; but now, as he stood with the +blue<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 75]</span> +wool encircling two chairs, steadily unwinding it into a ball, it +seemed quite pleasant work. Mrs. Estcourt had quite made up her mind, that +the skein would be spoiled, and so when her little nephew brought it to +her, wound and unbroken, it was an agreeable surprise, and she began to +have a higher opinion of boys in general.</p> + +<p>The day seemed to wear very slowly on, and with the waning light Arthur’s +heart seemed to sink very low. So quiet was he, that his aunt could hardly +understand him, and any one who had seen the boisterous, lively boy at +Ashton Grange, would hardly have known him as the same one who was sitting +so quietly before the drawing-room fire in the lamplight. He was sitting +there in dreamy fashion with a very sad, heavy heart, when his aunt asked +him what was his bedtime. A fortnight ago, if this question had been put +to Arthur, he would not have given the same answer that he did now. Then +he had considered it one of the greatest hardships of his life, that a +quarter before nine was the time when he was expected to disappear. But +now he said, “Oh, I don’t much mind, aunt; I think I should like to go +now!” for the weary, lonely feeling was making his heart so sick, that he +wanted to be all alone for a while.</p> + +<p>“Well, good night, darling,” said his aunt, and she put her arms very +tenderly round his neck; for she knew that his poor little heart must be +aching, and that his thoughts must be seeing things that were very far +away.</p> + +<p>She kissed him so lovingly that it was just too much +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 76]</span> for him. The tears +came into his eyes, and Arthur went sobbing up the stairs, not noticing +that he was holding the candle on one side, and that his way could be +traced along the carpet by large white spots. Somebody else noticed it the +next morning; and the housemaid thought that her mistress had done a very +foolish thing when she brought that young gentleman into her orderly +household.</p> + +<p>Arthur’s little room looked very snug as he opened the door and went in. +The firelight was dancing on the white curtains and on all the pretty +things around. But Arthur did not see any of it for the blinding tears +that were in his eyes, and fast falling down. His whole heart was longing +with one deep aching to be back again at home, and all the more that he +had been trying all the evening to keep back the tears. It seemed as if he +would cry his heart out, as he lay on the rug, sobbing so bitterly all +alone. “Oh, mamma, mamma,” he sobbed “come, come!” And this was all he +said, this was what he repeated again and again; and it was very dreary +that there was no answer—it seemed as if no one heard him.</p> + +<p>But One could hear him. Jesus wept when He was on the earth, and He does +not despise a child’s first bitter grief. He knows what trouble is, and He +knows just how much each particular trouble is to each one; for He Himself +has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.</p> + +<p>By and by Arthur remembered the text, “Come unto me, all ye that labour +and are heavy laden, and I will<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 77]</span> +give you rest.” He knew that when the +Lord Jesus Christ said “all” that He meant all, so he lifted up his heart +to the One who alone can read hearts; and this is what he said, with the +sobs coming thick and fast—what he prayed; for real prayer is a heart +speaking to God, and calling to Him in need—</p> + +<p>“Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, I do come to Thee! for I remember the text that +says ‘Come,’ and I don’t know what to say except that Thou knowest, Lord +Jesus, how lonely and miserable I am. My mother is far away, and papa too, +and I do so want to feel her arms round me now; but I can’t, oh, I can’t! +Lord Jesus, if thou wert here on the earth, and in this room, I would come +to Thee, and sit at Thy feet; and Thou wouldst put Thine arms round me. +Oh, do it now, Lord Jesus! for I feel as if I must have somebody taking +care of me. The Bible says that Thou healest the broken-hearted, and I +feel broken-hearted to-night, Lord Jesus, so heal me. Lord Jesus Christ, I +belong to Thee, I am Thy lamb; gather me in Thine arms, and carry me in +Thy bosom.”</p> + +<p>It was in this way that little, lonely Arthur Vivyan poured his heart out +before the Lord. He went and told Him exactly what was in it, and then he +lay at His feet; and he felt as he had not felt before, what it was to be +in His keeping, and to hear His voice saying, “Thou art mine,” to feel the +everlasting arms enfolding him, and to know that One so strong, and kind, +and true, loved him with an everlasting love. The Lord Jesus Christ was a +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 78]</span> +real person to Arthur Vivyan. He had known Him before as his Saviour; he +was knowing Him now as the lover of his soul.</p> + +<p>And that night, as he lay in his white-curtained bed, he felt the sweet +rest that the Lord gives when “He giveth His beloved sleep.”</p> + +<p>The stars shone in their melting blue depths, and their trembling light +fell on two who loved each other, and who were both loved by the blessed +God, who neither slumbers nor sleeps; and though such time and space were +separating them, they were both in His hand who “measures the water in the +hollow of His hand.”</p> + +<p>Is it not a happy thing to belong to the Lord Jesus Christ?</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/img77.jpg" width="200" height="67" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 79]</span><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 453px;"> +<img src="images/img78.jpg" width="453" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>EDGAR NORTH; OR, A HEART WITHOUT A RESTING-PLACE.</strong></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 47px;"> +<img src="images/img-a.png" width="47" height="60" alt="A" title="" /> +</div><p>BOUT two weeks after his arrival in his new home, when Arthur came down +one morning to breakfast, something in his aunt’s face made him think of +pleasant things; so that his “Good morning, auntie,” seemed rather like a +question.</p> + +<p>“I think you had better have breakfast,” said Mrs. Estcourt, smiling, but +holding something in her hand towards him, at the same time.</p> + +<p>“A letter!” Arthur exclaimed, or rather shouted, as he seized the +envelope. “A letter for me! It could be only from one person. But, oh, +surely they are not in India yet! Mamma said they would be weeks and weeks +going.”</p> + +<p>“They must have passed some vessel returning to England. You see what a +mother you have, to write to you the very first opportunity.”</p> + +<p>“I should think I knew that, auntie. I don’t believe +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 80]</span> there ever was, or +will be, any one like my mother in the whole world.” Then he began to read +his mother’s letter:</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">My own Child</span>,—For this is the sweetest name I can call you. You are my +own, my Arthur, my darling little child—just as much mine now, as when we +used to sit together by the fireside in the old home, and your head was on +my lap, and my arms were around you. And although miles and miles of deep +blue sea are lying between us, and the stars that look down on you in your +peaceful English home may see me here on the broad, wide ocean, you are +here safe in my heart, just the same as ever, and my watchful love, that +cannot take care of you as I once did, pours itself out in prayers to the +God who loves us both; for He is my Father and yours, Arthur. We are both +in His hands. He will take care of us now, as we walk on this changing +world, and He will take care of us for ever, in that land where there are +no partings, or sighs, or tears—where the blessed God will joy to bless +us for ever.</p> + +<p>“And now I must tell you something about ourselves, about your father and +me. For a little while after we started we had very rough weather; and as +the steamer tossed up and down, and rolled with great heaving swells on +the waves, I was glad that my little boy had a bed to lie on, that did not +heave from side to side. I was glad that the sounds he heard, were the +sweet summer winds rustling, and the birds that sang in the trees, instead +of the creaking and straining noises that I now hear, and +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 81]</span> that he was +safe, and comfortable, and well; instead of sighing out his poor little +heart with trouble; for sea-sickness is a reality, my little Arthur, as +you would soon find out, if, like me, you had spent some days on the sea, +when the winds had made the waves rough.</p> + +<p>“Now the water is calm, and all around us it lies blue and bright, and the +sun makes pleasant sparkles on it, which I look at now and again, as I sit +here on the deck; writing the letter that you will read, and think of me +on my way to the land where you were born.</p> + +<p>“I only came on deck yesterday; for, as I told you, the weather was so +rough, and I was so ill, that I had to stay all the time in my cabin. Your +father was as well as ever, indeed he said that he was never better in his +life; and as I lay there for several weary days, I could hear his voice, +now and then talking with the other passengers, and sometimes he would +come in and tell me where we were, and what was the state of the weather, +until at length he was able to tell me that the wind was going down, and +that probably we should have some bright, calm weather; and I was very +glad to think that I should be able to leave my dark cabin, and sit out +where the sun was shining, and where the sea was stretching beneath it, +until it met the spreading sky far away.</p> + +<p>“There are a great many ladies and gentlemen on board; some of them, as we +are doing, leaving their dear little children in English homes, and hoping +to see them again some day. Some of them have one or two of their +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 82]</span> +youngest children with them, and my only one is far away from me; but I +know that God is taking care of my darling child, and from my heart I can +say, ‘Thy will be done;’ for though I would have chosen another way, He +who chose for me, loves me so tenderly, that I can sit at His feet and +submit myself to what He has said.</p> + +<p>“And that is what I want you to do, my own dear child; that is what I pray +for you when my heart rises up to my Father’s heart and says, ‘God bless +my child.’ I want you to remember that the Lord Jesus Christ is your Lord; +for you told me that you trust in Him, and that He is your hope, and so I +want you to remember that if you submit yourself to Him, you are owning +Him as Lord, whom the God of all the world has made Lord and Christ; and +so if you are meek and gentle, when something wrong tempts you to be +passionate and proud, if you are kind and helpful to others, when +selfishness tempts you to please yourself, you are acknowledging this +blessed Master as yours. Is not this a happy thought, my Arthur? and do +you not like to give pleasure to the One who loves you so, and who did for +you what can never be told?</p> + +<p>“And now, good-bye, my child. I need not give you your father’s love, for +you have it already, and he joins his prayers for you with mine every day, +that our God will bless you and keep you; and He will; for ‘He that +keepeth thee will not slumber.’</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 22em;" class="smcap">“Your loving Mother.”</span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 83]</span> +Great big tears were running down Arthur’s face as he finished the letter; +but there was a bright look there too, as he folded it up with an air of +great content. “Auntie,” he said, “would there be any use in my writing a +letter now? When would she get it?”</p> + +<p>“I think it would be a very good plan if you write now; your mother would +find the letter awaiting her in Madras. It would not take nearly so long +going as they do.”</p> + +<p>“Poor mamma,” said Arthur, “I don’t believe the sea is good for her, after +all; you see how ill she is.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! but she would very soon get over that; and then, depend upon it, +the voyage will be very good indeed for her. Perhaps,” said Mrs. Estcourt +softly, “that is the way with people in other things and ways.”</p> + +<p>“I know what you mean, aunt,” said Arthur suddenly, “and I expect you are +right.”</p> + +<p>But his aunt heaved a very deep sigh, and said no more.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt was very glad to see her little nephew busily occupied, for +that day at least. For several days she had been trying to bring herself +to the point of telling Arthur, that she thought he had better attend Mr. +Carey’s school; and day after day she had put it off, thinking it would +make him unhappy.</p> + +<p>Arthur’s letter to his mother could not be called a very well written one; +there were several mistakes in the spelling, and here and there, a great +blot could tell that a<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 84]</span> +good deal of his heart had gone into it; but +whatever it was, it was a loving little letter.</p> + + +<p>“<span class="smcap">My own dear Mother</span>,—Aunt says there is time for a letter to get to you; +so this is an answer to the one you sent me. I think it was a most +beautiful letter; and it was very odd that it made me cry.</p> + +<p>“I like Aunt Daisy very much; I like her much better than any other lady +in the world—except you, of course.</p> + +<p>“Myrtle Hill is much grander than the Grange. I do try to be careful about +the things, dear Mamma. Oh, mother! I do want to see you so very much +sometimes. I could never tell you how much; only I do not want you to +think I am unhappy.</p> + +<p>“Mamma, I thought of a text the second evening I came here that made me +not so unhappy. I did not think so much of how kind and good the Lord +Jesus was until I came here. Tell papa I give him my love. I have made a +lot of mistakes, and I could not help these blots.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">“Good-bye, my own dear mother.</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">“Ever your loving</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;" class="smcap">“Arthur”</span>.</p> + +<p>“Now, Aunt Daisy, will you direct this, please?” asked Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but you are such a great boy! I think you had better do it yourself,” +said his aunt.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 85]</span> +“Shall I? Can I? I never did before; but I daresay I could,” Arthur said, +and he was half pleased and half afraid.</p> + +<p>“Will that do?” he asked, after a long time had been spent, very carefully +trying to write his best on the thin envelope.</p> + +<p>“Why, Arthur, you are getting out of practice with your writing, I should +think,” said his aunt. And she thought this might lead on to her proposal, +about the school.</p> + +<p>“No; I don’t write well, I know,” said Arthur; “but I try; and I heard +some one once say, that it is not always the most stupid people who write +the worst.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt laughed.</p> + +<p>“No, my dear little boy, I did not say it was. But, dear Arthur, +seriously, I think you ought to write better, and I am afraid you will be +getting bad habits. Don’t you think it would be a good thing for you to +begin school?”</p> + +<p>“What, the boys’ school that mother told me about? Oh, I was hoping you +were going to say something about that! Shall I soon be able to go?”</p> + +<p>“Do you want to go?” asked his aunt, astonished.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! I should think so.”</p> + +<p>“Then, my dear boy, you shall begin to-morrow, if you like. I have spoken +to Mr. Carey about your coming; so I can send over a note this evening to +let him know.”</p> + +<p>The remainder of that day Arthur could scarcely think +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 86]</span> of anything else +than the prospect that was before him on the morrow—his first entering on +school-life. Many were the wonderings and conjectures that went on in his +mind, as to what kind of a person the master would be—whether he would +like the boys, if he would be strict and cross, and if the lessons would +be very difficult. But he was quite decided on one point, that he would +much rather be going to school every day, and have something to do, than +loiter away his time in the house and garden at home.</p> + +<p>So the next morning, after Arthur had finished his breakfast, it required +little persuasion from his aunt to make him start for Mr. Carey’s school. +The house was about an hour’s walk from Myrtle Hill, and it must be +confessed that on his way Arthur’s heart began to fail him a little, when +he thought of encountering so many strange faces. Just as he approached +the house the clock struck nine; and as Arthur entered the large iron +gate, he caught sight of some thirty or forty boys rushing across the +play-ground, some tumbling over the others, to be in their seats by the +time the last stroke of the clock sounded. Arthur thought the best thing +he could do would be to follow them; so keeping in sight two or three boys +who had loitered after the others, he walked behind them, up a long +passage; till he reached a door leading into the school-room. He pushed it +open so quietly that he was not heard, and had time to take a good view of +the room and its occupants. It was +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 87]</span> large and spacious. All down one side +there was a long desk fixed against the wall, where numbers of boys were +sitting, engaged in writing or doing their sums. Then there were several +tables, round which the different classes were seated on forms. The walls +were hung with maps, and there were two large globes in a corner of the +room. All this Arthur took in, in a very short time; and his eyes quickly +travelled to the top of the room, where Mr. Carey was standing at his +desk. He was rather thin and tall, with a very grave face, which made +Arthur feel rather awed; but it was not a cross face.</p> + +<p>Presently he looked up, and saw Arthur standing at the door. He had +already been prepared for his appearance by a note from Mrs. Estcourt; so +he knew at once who he was.</p> + +<p>“So you have come, Vivyan,” he said. “Step up here, my boy.”</p> + +<p>Arthur advanced to the desk with rather a trembling step, and then had to +submit to a number of questions from Mr. Carey to test his knowledge; +after which he was put into one of the lower divisions of the school. It +was all new to him to-day; so the hours passed quickly away, and Arthur +was quite ready again for afternoon school when the time came.</p> + +<p>So the days went on—one very like the other—and things were seeming less +strange as Arthur was getting to know the boys better, and to feel more at +home with them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 88]</span> +There was one boy in Mr. Carey’s school who seemed different from all the +rest. His name was Edgar North, and he was about Arthur’s own age. Some of +the boys said he was delicate, and others told Arthur that he was a muff. +Whatever it was, he seemed to stay outside the rest. He was very often in +disgrace; not for lessons badly done, although it might have been so, but +Mr. Carey was very indulgent to him, on account of his weakness, but for +rules broken through, for quarrels with the other boys, or disrespect to +the teachers. He did not seem happy; there was generally a cloud on his +brow, and a weariness and discontent in his manner. Arthur sometimes +wondered why. Might it be on account of his delicacy and his cough, that +very often he was obliged to stay at home, when the others joined in some +country expedition, and that sometimes, when the game was at its height of +interest, his quick, short breathing obliged him to leave off and sit down +away from the rest? It would be very trying, certainly; Arthur was quite +sure of that. He thought a good deal about Edgar North, and he could see +that the other boys did not like him; to tell the truth, Arthur did not +himself, but he was very sorry for him when he saw him sometimes all +alone, when the others were at play. One fine, sunny half-holiday, when +school had been closed for the day, and both boarders and day-scholars +were deep in the interest of cricket, Arthur had lingered behind the +others to put his books together in readiness for going home, and a +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 89]</span> +message from Mr. Carey to his aunt had detained him still longer, so that +by the time he reached the cricket-ground the game had begun. One of the +older boys called to him to make haste; but Arthur seemed in no haste, +and, unlike his usual way at this time, he seemed to be in deep +meditation.</p> + +<p>“Come, make haste,” said his companion. “Why don’t you come on?”</p> + +<p>But still Arthur stood; for something had made him pause. It was Edgar +North’s listless figure, half sitting and half lying under a large tree in +a field a little distance off, with a very discontented, unhappy face.</p> + +<p>“I think I won’t play to-day, I’ve got something else to do; I’m going for +a walk.”</p> + +<p>“What on earth is that for?” said the older boy; “I thought you were wild +for this game to-day.”</p> + +<p>He was not so very sorry, however; for Arthur was playing on the opposite +side, and he knew by experience, that his vigorous little arms made a +great difference sometimes.</p> + +<p>“Well, please yourself. What shall I say when the others ask about you?”</p> + +<p>“Say I have gone out for a walk.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the other, and he walked away.</p> + +<p>It was not without a very great struggle that Arthur had been able to say +this. It was not without more than one earnest prayer, that he had been +able to resist the strong temptation. He had been feeling very happy +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 90]</span> that +morning in thinking of his mother’s text: “Whose I am.” And his heart had +risen in gladness and thankfulness to the Lord who had bought him; and now +there was a golden opportunity before him of doing something to prove his +love, and of letting it be true of him “whom I serve.” Edgar North was not +happy, and the others had left him all by himself. It must be very bitter +to him to see from a distance the wild enjoyment of their game, without +being able to take any part in it. Arthur knew how he would feel it +himself, and a thought came across his mind that he could make it less sad +for Edgar; that he could offer to go for a walk with him; and that this +kindness to another would be pleasing to his Master. But then glowing +thoughts of the game’s enjoyments came across his mind; his hands and feet +were burning to run to the cricket-ground, and take part there, with all +the energy of his young spirits, while the picture of a solitary walk with +Edgar North came before his mind in very gloomy contrast. Then a voice +seemed to speak in his heart: “I love you, my own. I gave myself for you. +Follow me.”</p> + +<p>The tears came into Arthur’s eyes, and he looked up to where the blue was +covered with little white clouds, and the sun’s light was shining; and his +heart whispered the words which only One could hear: “Lord Jesus, I will.”</p> + +<p>Arthur had to go over some little distance, before he reached Edgar North. +He found him sitting on the soft +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 91]</span> grass, underneath a large tree. He +seemed to have been trying to carve his name; for a large E and half of an +N were there. But he was tired of that; and a book he had brought with him +seemed to have proved equally unsatisfying; for it was lying closed at his +feet. He seemed very much surprised at seeing Arthur; but all he said, +when he came near was: “Well?” Arthur did not quite know what to say +himself, but he asked him after a moment—</p> + +<p>“Would you like to go for a walk?”</p> + +<p>“Not particularly,” said Edgar, not very graciously.</p> + +<p>“Why, I thought you liked walking. I heard you saying so last week.”</p> + +<p>“I liked it last week; but I couldn’t have it then. People can’t always +like the same things. I thought you liked cricket.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, so I do! I should think I did just!” said Arthur emphatically; and he +could not help thinking of how much more he liked it, than talking to such +a disagreeable companion as Edgar was now. It needed another remembrance +of the voice in his heart.</p> + +<p>“Well, why don’t you play then? the others are playing.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I thought you might like to go for a walk.”</p> + +<p>Edgar pulled bits of bark off the tree, and threw them on the ground. Then +he looked up in Arthur’s face with a half laugh. “Well, you are queer. +Perhaps I should like a walk. Where shall we go?” he said, rising +suddenly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +“I don’t mind,” Arthur said, “except that dusty old road.”</p> + +<p>“The woods then,” said Edgar, “and then we should be less likely to meet +that Carey. I hate having to speak to him.”</p> + +<p>They walked on for some distance, without saying very much. Arthur found +conversation with his companion rather difficult to keep up; most of his +questions were answered by “yes” or “no;” and to anything that he said, +not requiring an answer, Edgar gave a short laugh.</p> + +<p>“There’ll be lots of wild strawberries here soon,” he said; “don’t you +like them?”</p> + +<p>“Pretty well,” said Edgar listlessly, “when I can’t get others.”</p> + +<p>Arthur was beginning to think he had better say nothing, when suddenly the +other boy turned to him, and said curiously—</p> + +<p>“I suppose it was because you are converted that you came?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Arthur answered.</p> + +<p>“How did you know I was?” he asked, after some little time, when they had +walked on in silence.</p> + +<p>“Why, I don’t know; some of the others said things about you; and, +besides, you know you are.”</p> + +<p>He would not say that he had noticed Arthur Vivyan’s ways, and that he had +seen there, what showed him there was a difference between him and the +other boys; still less would he tell him just then, that there was an +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 93]</span> +aching wish in his heart that he could say the same for himself.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Arthur said, “I am, Edgar; and do you know I wish you were.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know I am not?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t <em>know</em>,” said Arthur; “but I don’t much think you are. Are +you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Edgar, pulling violently at the leaves that grew on the bushes +near.</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t you like to be?”</p> + +<p>“What is the use of liking?” asked Edgar North. “I shall be if it is God’s +will, and I shan’t if it is not.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Arthur, “that is a dreadful way to talk. I’m quite sure it is +not the right way.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I know I have thought a great deal about it, especially when I have +been ill, and it always makes me miserable, so I try not to think, and I +can’t think what made me begin it now. Do let us talk about something +else.”</p> + +<p>And suddenly Edgar became very much interested in the subject of the next +local examination, in which several of his schoolfellows expected to take +part, and was much more lively for the rest of the walk than he had been +before.</p> + +<p>But he did not seem to avoid Arthur; on the contrary, after that day, he +often seemed to try to be near him; and at length he surprised him very +much, by asking if he would come out for another walk. Arthur remembered +the last one that they had had, and he wondered why! it +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 94]</span> was not for any +pleasure to himself that he agreed, but at any rate this time it was not a +cricket-day.</p> + +<p>“You did not want to come, did you?” asked Edgar, after some little time, +when they had been walking along through the fields, and had now reached a +distant one, where the hawthorn hedge was throwing a sheltering shade. +“And I expect you would just as soon sit down, as walk on further. Shall +we stop here?”</p> + +<p>“What a queer fellow you are, Edgar,” said Arthur; “I can’t make you out +at all.”</p> + +<p>“How am I queer?” asked Edgar.</p> + +<p>“Why, you <em>are</em> queer; you are different from all the others. Perhaps it +is because you are not strong.”</p> + +<p>“No, I know I am not,” Edgar said; “the doctor at my grandmother’s used to +say I should not live.”</p> + +<p>Arthur looked very earnestly at Edgar’s pale, passionless face.</p> + +<p>“Did he really? Are you sorry?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I dare say he did not know! and if he did, I cannot help it; so what +is the use of being sorry or glad? Perhaps you may not, just as likely.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said Arthur, “if I had heard any one say that about me, I should +think more about it than you seem to do.”</p> + +<p>“Why, it would be all right for you, because you are converted, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But, Edgar,” and Arthur looked very earnestly into his dark, sad eyes, +“don’t you wish you were?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 95]</span> +Edgar’s eyes fell before his gaze. He looked away, and seemed to be +dreamily watching the glistening sunbeams, darting through the trees; but +presently the tears gathered, and he said, with a weary sigh,</p> + +<p>“Oh, Arthur, if you only knew how much I wish it! if you only knew what I +would give, to know I was converted!”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t your mother ever talk to you about it?” asked Arthur, remembering +the sweet words that had fallen into his own heart; “or your father?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember my mother,” said Edgar, “and papa died two years ago; +but it was two years before that, when I saw him last.”</p> + +<p>“Poor Edgar,” said Arthur softly; for, though he did not say this had been +a bitter grief to him, there was something in his tone so hopelessly sad +and sorrowful, that the tears came into Arthur’s eyes to hear it.</p> + +<p>Edgar saw the tears in Arthur’s eyes, and a little faint smile came in his +own. “You are very different from the others, Arthur,” he said. “I haven’t +had any one kind to me, since papa went to India.”</p> + +<p>“Did your father go to India?” Arthur asked brightly. “So did mine. So we +are alike, then.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but yours will come back some day, and your mother too; but mine will +never, never come back any more!”</p> + +<p>“Tell me about them,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Well, you know I told you mamma died ever so long +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 96]</span> ago, so I don’t +remember her at all; but papa used to tell me how nice she was, and he +used to show me her picture.”</p> + +<p>“What kind of a face had she?” asked Arthur. “I wonder whether she was +like my mother.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she had very nice eyes, brown ones.”</p> + +<p>“Mamma’s eyes were blue, I think,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“And brown hair; and she looked very kind.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, then they are alike in one thing!”</p> + +<p>“Papa used to keep it in his pocket,” Edgar continued, “and he used to +show it to me often when grandmamma was not in the room. I don’t think she +liked it, because I remember once when we were looking at it she came into +the room, and papa put it back into his pocket directly.”</p> + +<p>“Who used you to live with then?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I have always lived at my grandmother’s, only now she is dead. That’s +who I am in mourning for,” said Edgar, pointing to his black dress. “But +father used often to come and see us. It was his home too when he had +leave, other times he was with his regiment. Then, four years ago, they +were ordered to India, and he died of cholera, when he had been there two +years; and I never saw him since, four years ago.”</p> + +<p>“Poor Edgar,” said Arthur again. He knew enough of loneliness and sorrow +himself, to feel what a sad, empty life Edgar North’s must be, without +anything in heaven or earth to make him glad.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 97]</span> +“Did you love your father very much?” asked Arthur presently.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Arthur, I did love him so!” said Edgar very sadly. “You see, I had no +one else. I remember it was so very nice, when grandmamma had the letter +to say he was coming; and he never let me have much lessons, when he was +at home.”</p> + +<p>“Was it in the town you lived, or the country?”</p> + +<p>“It was near the town. We lived in rather a small house, that had a +garden. I suppose I shall never see it again. Well, I don’t much mind.”</p> + +<p>“Where shall you spend the holidays?”</p> + +<p>“At my uncle’s in London; he has ever so many children, and I dare say +they will not want me.”</p> + +<p>“I think that is so strange of you, Edgar,” said Arthur. “You seem always +to think nobody wants you, and that makes you disagreeable, and then they +do not. Now, I don’t see why they should not want you, as well as any one +else.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I can’t help thinking what is true,” said Edgar.</p> + +<p>“Go on telling me about your father,” said Arthur; “I like hearing of +him.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I have much to tell,” said Edgar, “except that it was very +happy when he was at home; and, oh, so miserable ever since! And I think +he might have stayed.”</p> + +<p>“That is what I thought about mamma. But I am quite sure they knew best; +indeed I’m certain, Edgar, they would only do it for the best.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 98]</span> +They stopped talking for a little while, and sat still and silent—very +still it was, and very long it lasted for two boys of their age; but +Edgar’s short breathing and weakness had often enforced these times of +rest, and Arthur’s grave, earnest face showed him to be deeply thinking. +They made a great contrast as they sat together in the woody shade, where +the woodbine-scented breeze was fanning softly, and the quivering light +fell scatteringly. There was a weary, restless look brooding over Edgar’s +dark eyes, and his face was pale and worn-looking. Arthur’s cheeks were +ruddy and round, and his thick brown hair clustering on his sunburnt +forehead; but with all the energy and liveliness that could be seen on his +face, a peaceful, restful look could be noticed there too.</p> + +<p>“This walk to-day reminds me of long ago,” said Edgar, after a while. “We +used to walk, papa and I. Sometimes we set off directly after breakfast, +and took some luncheon with us, and then father used to fish, and it was +such fun when he caught some; and then we had luncheon, and sometimes +father went to sleep for a little, and sometimes he would tell me stories; +and talk, oh, so nicely!”</p> + +<p>“What did he talk about?” asked Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Well, I can’t tell you exactly, or at any rate I don’t want to tell you.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would,” Arthur said.</p> + +<p>Presently Arthur spoke again.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 99]</span> +“Yes, it is very nice; that is, it is <em>half</em> nice to think of those +times.”</p> + +<p>“It must be quite nice for you,” said Edgar, “because, you see, you may +think that it will all come again some day, and that you will be with your +father and mother again; but I never shall. Oh, Arthur, I do want to see +him sometimes! I think if I knew for certain he was alive in India, I +could wait any time. It would be so nice to know he was coming back again, +and that I was going to live with him.”</p> + +<p>And then it struck Arthur, how very much more he had to be thankful for, +than he had thought. He looked at Edgar’s sad life, and then he thought of +how very much brighter his own was. But he knew enough of dreariness, to +be able to enter into Edgar’s sadness.</p> + +<p>“Well, Edgar, I’ll tell you what. When my father and mother come home, I +will get them to ask you to come to Ashton Grange, and you may be quite +sure the people there will want you. I know I shall. I think, although you +are such a queer fellow, that I like you very much, and I am so sorry you +are so unhappy.”</p> + +<p>Something like a happy smile came into Edgar’s face, as he said, “I think +I should like that.”</p> + +<p>Arthur had not known it, but in Edgar’s heart there had always been a +great liking for him. He was so different from himself. Perhaps that was +one reason, and Edgar’s was one of those deep, intense natures that cling +very closely to their heart’s objects.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 100]</span> +By and by they began their homeward way, and as they walked along the +lane, Arthur said:</p> + +<p>“Tell me what it was your father used to talk about. I believe I know +partly.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you know, what is the use of my telling?”</p> + +<p>“Because I don’t quite know. And, Edgar, was it not about heaven, and the +way to get there?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Edgar in a low voice; “but I don’t think grandmamma agreed +with him. Any way, I know that when she talked, it made me miserable.”</p> + +<p>“You seem to have had a great many troubles, Edgar,” said Arthur, “even +more than I have.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Arthur,” said Edgar, “I don’t think any one knows how unhappy I have +been! Look here,” and Edgar spoke in a lower voice; “I don’t mind telling +you, because you are different from the rest; but, do you know, I have +always been in a fright about something or other. Sometimes, in the winter +nights, all by myself at home, I have had such horrid thoughts, and I have +fancied all sorts of things; and even in the summer evenings, when the sky +had that red look, it always made me think about the moon being turned +into blood, and about judgment and punishment; and I used to think about +the great white throne, and myself standing before it, and God judging me, +and that papa and mamma would be on one side, and I should be on the +other.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I have had thoughts like that, I think; but then I always thought +of the Lord Jesus Christ; and how could I be afraid then?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 101]</span> +“But He will judge people, won’t He?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Edgar, He is our Saviour!” said Arthur earnestly. “It is only when +people will not have Him for their Saviour that He is their Judge. Why, I +am not afraid of the Lord Jesus. How could I be?”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said Edgar sadly, “that is because you are converted, and I am not! +I have tried so hard. Oh, so many times, after I have heard sermons, I +have felt so frightened, and I have made up my mind I would be a +Christian; and then in bed I have cried so, and I have thought, that +surely this time I must really go on right, and the next day, it has all +been different again, and I did not care a bit about it!”</p> + +<p>“But, Edgar, the Lord Jesus wants you to come to Him, a great deal more +than you want it. I know He does, because he says, ‘Ye <em>will not</em> come to +me that ye might have life.’”</p> + +<p>“But what is coming?” said Edgar in a dreary voice.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you the way, my mother once explained it to me. Don’t you +know, if the Lord Jesus were here on the earth, you would go to the place +where He was, and say, ‘I am here, Lord Jesus; I come;’ and so now you can +say that while you are sitting here, because He is here, and everywhere; +so you need not move. And, Edgar, don’t you think He knows that you say +it? I am certain He does, because He has been wanting you to answer, ever +since He called.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said Edgar, “you make it out, as if it was not to try a bit.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 102]</span> +“Well, and that is it,” said Arthur, with a bright, happy smile. “That is +just what mother says. I can tell you another thing she said. You remember +about the Lord Jesus feeding the people in the wilderness?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, with the loaves and the fishes.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; that was it. Well, all He wanted them to do, was to rest on the +grass, and be fed; and that was just the thing, that pleased Him best. You +see they had not to try and do anything hard—had they? And mother said, +that this is what the Lord Jesus wants us to do—to stop trying, and let +Him do what He likes with us; and, you know, the Lord Jesus could not do +anything unkind, could He?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t seem one bit afraid of Him, Arthur.”</p> + +<p>“Why, no. How could I be afraid?” asked Arthur, with such a happy smile. +“Don’t you know</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘How our hearts delight to hear Him<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bid us dwell in safety near Him!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Why should we distrust or fear Him?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, how He loves!’”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>They neither of them spoke for several minutes. It was getting late, and +the sun was falling in slanting golden rays on the green slopes; the +shadows were deepening in the woods, and other sights and sounds told, +that evening was coming on; so the two boys rose from their grassy seat.</p> + +<p>“I wish, oh, how I wish,” said Edgar, after a long pause, “that I could +feel the same as you do, Arthur!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 103]</span> +“Well, but you must not be wanting to feel first; you have to believe what +the Lord Jesus says, and He says, ‘Him that cometh to me I will in no wise +cast out;’ so if you would only come, you must be safe, for He cannot +break His word. And I will tell you what I do, Edgar, whenever I think of +how bad I have been, and when I feel frightened. I just say, ‘Jesus died,’ +and God hears me, and Satan hears me too; and of course when I remember +why Jesus died, I feel glad. And then, there is a text I like to +remember—a very short one it is—where the Lord Jesus is called ‘the +Saviour of the world;’ and, you know, if He is the Saviour of the world, +He must be my Saviour, and yours too.”</p> + +<p>They had reached the school-gates now; the shadows were deep and long, and +Arthur’s two-mile walk lay before him. But his aunt had long since found, +that she could trust him alone; so even when the moon had begun to tell, +that the day had gone; and the stars were speaking sparkling joy above, +she was not uneasy about him.</p> + +<p>“Well, good-bye,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” Edgar said; but he did not go, and he stood, looking wistfully +at Arthur. Presently he spoke—</p> + +<p>“Arthur, I wish——”</p> + +<p>“Well, what?”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would be my friend.”</p> + +<p>“Why, so I am,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I mean, I have not any brother, and you +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 104]</span> have not either. I wish +you would be the same to me as if we were. Will you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Arthur, with a half smile, for he felt a little shy; but he +wanted to say something kind, so he said, “Very well then, we can; and +when my father and mother come home from India, you can come to us, you +know.”</p> + +<p>And then Arthur turned away, and began his walk to Myrtle Hill at a +running pace. But he was thinking all the way very much of his talk with +Edgar North, so that when he reached his aunt’s house, the earnest look +was on his face still. The darkness had not yet fallen, but the evening +shades were gathering. Mrs. Estcourt was in the garden, looking out for +her little nephew. She was very fond of Arthur; of course there were times +when things did not run altogether smoothly between them, because, +although he was a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ, and really tried to +please Him, he had a strong will and a hot temper. But if Mrs. Estcourt +saw his faults, she saw his struggles too; and she noticed when he gave +up, what was a great matter to a boy, such as he was; and she knew that +this was not natural. She knew that it was God’s love that made Arthur +glad; and often in her heart’s secret depths she would wish to be a child +like him once more, that she might believe as simply; for thoughts and +questions made her very unhappy at times, and the reasonings of her +natural mind prevented her enjoying the promises that God gives. +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 105]</span> But was +she not making a mistake? Could she not become a little child, as God has +told us all to do? Could she not cease to think, and begin to believe, and +take the portion of joy and life from the One, who has said, “It is more +blessed to give than to receive”?</p> + +<p>Arthur went to look at one particular corner of the grounds, which his +aunt had given him for his very own; it was hidden by a bend in the trees, +and he had expended a great deal of care and skill on this garden-plot. +First of all Arthur had intended, that his estate should have a river +flowing through it; but when he had dug a deep trench, and filled it, he +was much disappointed to find that the water sunk into the earth; and even +when he had lined it with stones and oyster-shells, there was only a very +faint trickling stream, and not the brimming river, that he had fancied to +himself; so then, in disgust, Arthur levelled the banks of his river, and +determined to plan his garden anew. At present it was really a pretty one, +though perhaps a little too bright, with hollyhocks and geraniums. Two +very large roses stood at the entrance, and the scarlet geraniums were +blooming there. There was a gravel walk through the middle, that led up to +a grotto, and the ferns that were growing there were well watered. Arthur +would have help from no one, in the care of his garden; and considering +this, its neatness did him great credit.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt thought so too, as they stood together inside the enclosure, +which was all his own.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 106]</span> +“Why, Arthur, I think you had better turn gardener, when you choose a +profession,” she said.</p> + +<p>“A gardener, aunt! Well, I shouldn’t mind. But I am not quite sure I shall +not be something else.”</p> + +<p>“What would that be?” asked his aunt.</p> + +<p>“Well, I think I might be a missionary.”</p> + +<p>Then he seemed to be thinking; and after some little time, he said, “I +wish he would not talk like that, I wish I could make him see.”</p> + +<p>“Who, dear?”</p> + +<p>“Edgar North, auntie. I always thought he was very cross and disagreeable, +but it is not that, at all. It is because he is so unhappy. I do wish I +had thought of one other thing to say to him.”</p> + +<p>“What was it, Arthur?” asked his aunt.</p> + +<p>“Why, you know, he is so frightened. Fancy,” and Arthur’s voice was soft +and low, “he is afraid of the Lord Jesus Christ. That must be, because he +does not know Him, must it not, auntie? And I wish I had said to him, ‘If +the Lord Jesus were to come walking towards us now, and sit down here, +would you be afraid to see Him?’”</p> + +<p>“And would not you, dear Arthur?” asked his aunt.</p> + +<p>“Why, no, Aunt Daisy! How could I? The little children that He took up in +His arms were not. I am sure I should not be afraid.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt did not say anything, but she was thinking of what Arthur +had said. It seemed to her then, that it must be very sweet to be one of +the little children,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 107]</span> +that the Lord Jesus had blessed; for she often felt +very lonely and weary. Some people—those who only care for the things +that gold can bring—might say she had everything that she wanted; but her +heart craved a great deal more than this, and when her husband went away +from her sight for ever, she had felt as if he had taken her heart with +him. There was One, who had said to her long before, “Give me thine +heart;” but she had not listened to His voice, and she had not thought +about His love; greater than which, there is none. She was trusting in Him +for salvation, but she was not looking to Him, to feed her heart with His +love. She was following Him afar off, too far to be able to say, “I sat +down under His shadow with great delight; and His fruit was sweet to my +taste.”</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/img106.jpg" width="200" height="59" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 108]</span><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/img107.jpg" width="450" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>MIDSUMMER HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.</strong></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 41px;"> +<img src="images/img-t.png" width="41" height="60" alt="T" title="" /> +</div><p>HE summer holidays were coming very near, and most of the boys at Mr. +Carey’s school were looking forward to them with great joy; for they had +pleasant homes, where they knew that their fathers and mothers would +welcome them, and their young sisters and brothers would be glad to see +them again. Arthur Vivyan, too, was expecting to enjoy his time; for Mrs. +Estcourt generally spent some of the summer weeks in the Swiss mountains, +and this year it was a pleasure to her to think of showing the places, +that she knew so well, to her nephew; and the thought of his wonder and +surprise, when he should see the snowy mountains, and the deep blue lakes, +that the sun would glow with a deeper colour, gave her more pleasure than +she had known for a long time. Arthur had been very busy with his +examination, and other things had hindered another walk with his new +friend; but they both expected, when the holidays were over, and they +should meet again, that there would be more time for walks and talks.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 109]</span> +It was the last day of school. Arthur was hurrying in to his class, which +was in a different room from the one in which Edgar studied, when in the +corridor they met. Arthur was passing him quickly, with a nod and smile, +when Edgar stopped him, and said breathlessly—</p> + +<p>“Oh, Arthur, I have been looking everywhere for you! I must speak to you.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t stop one minute,” said Arthur. “I’m late as it is.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I must!” said Edgar eagerly. “You don’t know, I am going away to +stay.”</p> + +<p>“Well!” and Arthur thought. “Let me see. I will try and be ready, five +minutes beforehand; and I dare say, the other boys will be longer going +to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes!” said Edgar. “I forgot; there will be plenty of time, of course, +this last day.”</p> + +<p>So Arthur hurried in to his class, forgetting, after he had given it a +moment’s thought, what Edgar had said.</p> + +<p>He thought of it again, when he was waiting under the trees; where groups +of boys were standing, talking eagerly, with bright, busy faces. Edgar’s +was very different, and his pale, earnest face was even deeper than usual.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Arthur, “what have you to tell me?”</p> + +<p>Edgar had a letter in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Why, look here,” he said. “I told you, I had to go and live at my uncle’s +in London. I did not mind that; it did not make much difference; but see +here, what he says in this letter I had to-day. He is my guardian now, +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 110]</span> +you know, and he says he thinks it will be better for me on every account, +to give up school.”</p> + +<p>“And what are you to do? Not going to have any more lessons?”</p> + +<p>“He says, I am to study with his boys. They have a tutor, and he hopes we +shall all find it very pleasant.”</p> + +<p>Edgar’s face did not look as if he expected to do so.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Do you think it is well, Arthur?” said Edgar, a little reproachfully. “I +hate it, and I hate him, and I hate them all. I thought it was bad enough +before.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Edgar, that’s wicked!”</p> + +<p>“Well, I can’t help it. Wait until you get bothered, and perhaps you will +be wicked too. And, of course, they will hate me, all of them. He has a +wife and a lot of daughters, as well as sons.”</p> + +<p>“They would be your cousins, would they not?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” said Edgar hopelessly.</p> + +<p>“Well, do you know, I think it need not be so very bad. You know, Edgar, +they would be next best to brothers and sisters. And there might be a +little one,” said Arthur, with a soft, tender feeling; as he thought of +the little sunny sister, that still lived in his heart. “Why do you hate +it so very much?”</p> + +<p>“Every reason,” said Edgar bitterly. “And, Arthur, you know I love you, +more than any one else in the world; and I wanted to talk to you +sometimes.”</p> + +<p>“And I am sorry, Edgar,” said Arthur; “only then, +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 111]</span> you know, you are +coming to stay with us at Ashton Grange, when my father and mother come +back.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but that is such a very long time; and, you know, I may die before +that. Perhaps I shall; and if I were certain of going to heaven, I should +like to die.”</p> + +<p>“I thought you would be certain by this time, Edgar; you know you ought to +be certain. Why can’t you stop bothering about yourself? Oh, Edgar, I wish +you would!”</p> + +<p>“I do get so frightened,” said Edgar, his lip trembling.</p> + +<p>“But mamma says, that is all the more reason, why you should let the Lord +Jesus take care of you. That’s all, you know, Edgar. But I have told you +so often, I think the best thing I can do, is to pray for you.”</p> + +<p>“Will you, Arthur? Will you really?” said Edgar, turning round a very +anxious, eager face; and he said it again. “Oh, do please, every day, +Arthur! I don’t believe any one else does. Father used to pray for me; oh, +I know he did!” and Edgar’s words ended in smothered sobs.</p> + +<p>Arthur’s arms were round his neck now. “Dear Edgar, don’t cry. You know I +do love you just as if you were my brother; and I will pray for you every +day. I do sometimes already. And then we can write to each other, you +know, can’t we?” Looking through the trees they could see that the other +boys were fast dispersing, and that only one or two of the day boys were +left; so Arthur knew that he must go, and that it must be a very long +good-bye to Edgar.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 112]</span> +They walked together to the gate, and then they stopped. Edgar seemed to +be searching in his pocket for something. Presently he found it, and +placed it in Arthur’s hand.</p> + +<p>“What is this?” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Well, it is a present for you. I have nothing else to give you, and I did +want to give you something.”</p> + +<p>“But what is it?” said Arthur; for he seemed puzzled by the appearance of +Edgar’s gift, although it was open in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Edgar. “I have two medals that my grandfather +got at college, and father gave them to me when he went away; and, you +know, if you were my brother you would have one; so I want you to take it. +I have one just like it.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Arthur; “thank you, Edgar, and I don’t like saying +good-bye at all, you know; but we must; and, Edgar, won’t you do it, what +we talked about?”</p> + +<p>“And you remember what you promised about praying. Mind you do, Arthur. +Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>Then Arthur went away; and as he was walking homewards, there was more +than one tear brushed away by his little hot, ink-stained hand, though it +was not a heart-grief to him, and he did not know what a lonely, desolate +feeling was in Edgar’s heart, as he watched him walking slowly away until +the distance hid him from his eyes; for Arthur was the chief object in his +heart just then.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 113]</span> +The next day the play-ground at Mr. Carey’s school was quiet and empty, +and the broad shadows fell softly on the silent grass. The sheep in the +fields must have wondered at the stillness. And Mr. Carey was enjoying the +half-yearly silence that reigned there.</p> + +<p>Arthur had been looking forward to the holiday journey on the Continent +with glowing expectation; he could hardly believe at first that he was +really going to see the towns and countries of which he had learnt in his +geography lessons. He tried to imagine the journey, and to see pictures of +the places where they were going; but that was not very easy, as he had +never been so far before as this last journey he had taken, and he knew +nothing at all of travelling by sea; this he found out to be a very +unpleasant reality; and he wished very much that, while he remained abroad +with his aunt, the tunnel under the sea would be finished between Dover +and Calais.</p> + +<p>They had a very pleasant time in Switzerland. Then Arthur saw the deep +blue lake with its solemn projecting mountains that swelled in great +mounds around, and far down where the gleaming peaks of white made the +blue look deeper; and in the evening, when the sun was hiding behind, and +was throwing a flame-coloured glow on the grandeur around, he would stand +on the terrace and feel the solemn hush that told the night was coming.</p> + +<p>Several weeks were passed among the mountains, and it was not until just +before the opening of the school that he found himself back at Myrtle +Hill.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 114]</span><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 453px;"> +<img src="images/img113.jpg" width="453" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>AT REST NOW.</strong></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 28px;"> +<img src="images/img-i.png" width="28" height="60" alt="I" title="" /> +</div><p> WONDER why Edgar North does not write to me. I can’t think what can +have happened to him. Just think, auntie; I know that when his last letter +came, the leaves had not all gone from the trees, and now look at the +snow.”</p> + +<p>Several months had passed away since Arthur and his aunt had come home, +and the winter chill and shadows were gathering around. Many letters had +found their way to Myrtle Hill from the far-away mother in India, and +sometimes, though not so often, answers went back to tell her things about +her child that made her glad.</p> + +<p>At first Arthur had often had tidings of his absent friend, beginning, “My +dear Arthur, I hope you are quite well;” and there was a sadness that +spoke in his short notes that Arthur could scarcely understand. But in one +of his letters Edgar had said, “I have to be indoors by myself a great +deal, and then I think of the things we used to talk about”. That was the +last letter that had come from him, and now it was several months ago, +and<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 115]</span> +Arthur was wondering at the long silence, as he had written twice in +answer to this letter. But many things had taken up his thoughts and his +time, and the winter holidays had begun, before he had thought much of his +absent friend.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Daisy,” said Arthur one morning, about two days after he had seen +his lesson books put away for the present, “I really wish I knew what has +become of Edgar; I think it is the strangest thing that he never writes to +me. People do not generally stop caring about their friends suddenly, do +they?”</p> + +<p>“No, dear, not generally. Perhaps little boys may be peculiar kinds of +creatures, you know,” she said, smiling.</p> + +<p>“I am sure, aunt,” said Arthur, looking aggrieved, “you think boys are +much nicer than you did once. And, besides, Edgar and I are not little.”</p> + +<p>“No, dear,” said his aunt, laughing and kissing him. “I do think they are +very nice sometimes; and you are getting a great big fellow, whatever +Edgar is.”</p> + +<p>“I wish he would write to me,” said Arthur, pausing before he began his +breakfast.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he may be ill,” his aunt suggested.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he may be, auntie,” said Arthur thoughtfully. “I wish I knew. +Poor Edgar! fancy his being ill all alone.”</p> + +<p>“Alone, dear! Why, is he not with his uncle and his aunt?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but then, you know, <em>all</em> aunts are not nice. And +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 116]</span> there are a lot +of cousins. Perhaps you might not want to have me, if you had ever so many +children, Aunt Daisy.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt smiled, and perhaps she thought that Arthur was not so very +far from right. Arthur still wondered why no letter came, and at last he +had almost made up his mind to write again; but this would be a task not +at all to his taste, and one which he would very much rather avoid.</p> + +<p>One morning when he came down to breakfast, he saw that there was +something on his plate. It really was a letter at last! and, of course, +Arthur concluded that it could be from no one but his friend in London.</p> + +<p>“A letter for me at last! Well, it is quite time. Now I shall have to +answer it, I suppose. Oh! I forgot. Good morning, auntie!”</p> + +<p>But when Arthur had gone back to his place, and had examined his letter +more closely, he saw that it was not Edgar’s round, plain hand that had +directed the envelope.</p> + +<p>“Why, aunt,” he said, “I don’t believe it is from Edgar at all. Who can it +be from? Edgar does not write that way. That is a lady’s writing. What +lady could be writing to me? Mamma is the only one, and her letter could +not be from London.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose you were to open it,” said his aunt. “Nobody else has any right +to do it but you.”</p> + +<p>“Well!” said Arthur, drawing a long breath of expectation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 117]</span> +Presently he was deep in the interest of his letter, and it was not for +several minutes that he spoke again.</p> + +<p>“Well, this is a very queer letter, and I cannot understand it at all. I +can make out that Edgar is very, very ill. And, Auntie, do you know he +seems to think perhaps he is never going to get well at all,” Arthur said +very gravely and sadly.</p> + +<p>“Has Edgar written to you himself?” asked his aunt.</p> + +<p>“Yes. At least, that is, he said it, and one of his cousins wrote it down. +Would you like to read his letter, auntie?”</p> + +<p>This was Edgar’s letter to Arthur:</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Arthur</span>,—My aunt is writing to your aunt, and my cousin Minnie is +writing this for me. I am in bed, so I am not able. You see, Arthur, I am +very ill, and the doctor says I shall not get better; but I am not afraid +now, dear Arthur. Cousin Minnie is very nice. I like her so much; but she +has to go away soon. Arthur, I hope you will be able to come. I have +prayed that you may; and I think your aunt will let you, because, you see, +I am going to die, most likely, and I want to see you again.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">“Your affectionate friend,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;" class="smcap">“Edgar North</span>.”</p> + +<p>“What can he mean, Aunt Daisy? What can he mean by saying, ‘I hope you +will be able to come’? It is so strange not to explain.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 118]</span> +“Do you think that will help you to understand?” asked his aunt, giving +him one of her own letters to read.</p> + +<p>“What! Do you mean me to read your letter, auntie? Well!” said Arthur, +wondering at this unusual occurrence, and not connecting it at all with +his own letter.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Estcourt’s letter began ‘Dear Madam,’ and it was some little time +before Arthur could understand who it was from, or what it meant. By and +by he found that it was from Edgar’s aunt, and that she was wishing him to +stay at her house in London, so that he might see her little nephew again. +This letter told that Edgar was very ill indeed; that his illness was +consumption, and that the doctor expected him to live only a very short +time.</p> + +<p>It was several minutes before Arthur spoke, after he had read this letter. +Breakfast was quite forgotten, and he could hardly understand at first the +strange things he had read.</p> + +<p>“Now, Arthur dear, you must eat some breakfast before we talk,” said his +aunt.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Daisy,” he said, when he had finished, “What shall you say, when you +answer Edgar North’s aunt’s letter?”</p> + +<p>“Well, what shall I say?”</p> + +<p>“Auntie,” said Arthur presently, “I am so sorry about Edgar. I never +thought he was so very ill. Do you think he is really going to die?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 119]</span> +“Yes, dear. I should think he will not get well. But you need not be +sorry, Arthur. Don’t you see, he says he is not afraid; and the world is +not such a very bright place that he should be sorry to go, when he knows +he has such a home. Don’t you think so, darling?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Arthur; but the tears had dimmed his blue eyes, and a sudden +feeling in his throat made him stop speaking.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Estcourt was sitting with her work by the drawing-room fire, +with Arthur by her side, much more quietly and gravely than was usual with +him, he said suddenly:</p> + +<p>“But, aunt, when are you going to answer that letter?”</p> + +<p>“That is just the question I was asking myself, and the answer was, ‘Now.’ +What shall I say, Arthur?”</p> + +<p>“Well, don’t you think I had better go?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, surely, dear. But how are you going to get there? You cannot travel +by yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, aunt!” said Arthur, almost in an alarmed tone of voice, “I should +hope I am old enough. Why, of course I could. The idea of anybody taking +care of me!”</p> + +<p>“Well, but,” said Mrs. Estcourt, smiling, “that is just what I have been +thinking about all this time. I have been thinking that I should feel very +unhappy, if I let you go alone. It may be foolish, Arthur; but, you know, +your father and mother gave you to me to take care of for them.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 120]</span> +“I know,” said Arthur impatiently, “they would let me go by myself. I +could not bear to have any old man or woman looking after me.”</p> + +<p>“They need not be old, you know,” said his aunt. “Now, Arthur,” she added +very decidedly, “there is no use saying anything more about it. If you go +at all, I must know that some one is in the carriage with you. I need not +tell them to take care of you, but I must know that some one will be +there; and I know Mrs. Maitland is going to London to-morrow, so I shall +find out what train she is going by.” Arthur made an impatient movement; +he did not say any more, but a look was on his face that showed what he +was feeling. As it happened, he need not have been so disgusted. When the +time for starting came, and he was taking his seat in the carriage, he +found that the lady had already taken her place there; and it was not so +very trying to his feelings as he expected, for Mrs. Estcourt only said, +“This is my little nephew, Mrs. Maitland; he is going to London, and I am +glad to think he is in your company.”</p> + +<p>“She never asked her to take care of me,” said Arthur to himself, “and I +am sure she could not think of such a thing herself when she sees me.”</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Maitland had sons of her own at home about Arthur’s age, and she +knew something about boys and their ways, so that by the time they reached +the Paddington Station they were very good friends. Arthur +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 121]</span> did not at all +object to her helping him to get a cab that was to take him to Leicester +Lodge, in Kensington.</p> + +<p>Indeed, he was obliged to confess to himself, when he found himself alone +in the hansom cab that his friend had found for him, that it was very well +she had been with him, for when he was standing on the platform, with the +din and bustle around him, and the many people stirring in the vast +station, he had felt quite bewildered. He had never been in London before, +and this was the longest journey he had taken.</p> + +<p>It was a very curious feeling that he had when he found himself alone in +the cab: at first he could not get quite over the feeling that it was not +safe; it seemed to him that it would be so very easy for the driver to go +away and leave the horse to take him wherever he liked amongst the crowds +of people, and cabs, and omnibuses.</p> + +<p>You may be sure that he looked about him well, as they whirled along +through street after street, skirting the park and the palace-like houses. +He had to guess the names of the places they were passing through, and I +dare say some of his guesses would have amused you very much indeed. He +was quite sure a hotel that he passed was somebody’s palace, perhaps the +Lord Chancellor’s. He did not think it could be Her Majesty’s, because +there were no soldiers.</p> + +<p>It was quite dark by the time the cab drove up outside Leicester Lodge, +and lights were shining above the +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 122]</span> shutters of the dining and drawing-room +windows. The dim light enabled Arthur to see that it was a large house +with a small piece of garden-ground in front, and one or two leafless +trees, which gave it rather a dreary look.</p> + +<p>It was not very long before he found himself standing inside the hall door +with his portmanteau. The servant showed him into a small ante-room, and +said he would tell the young ladies. Arthur had a curious feeling of not +being expected, although he knew he must be, as his aunt had written to +Mrs. North the day before.</p> + +<p>This was not a very quiet and orderly household evidently; there were +traces of that in the room where he was sitting, and he could hear noises +on the stairs and in the room overhead that might say the same. Presently +there was a scuffling noise in the hall, and after a little while the door +was burst quickly open, and more than one curly head peeped in, and was as +quickly drawn back, and Arthur could hear a little girl’s voice say, “Oh, +Gerald, it was you made me do it; you know it was!”</p> + +<p>Arthur felt rather inclined to run out, and see who was there; but he +thought it would be better to wait until some older person came.</p> + +<p>By and by the door opened again, more quietly this time, and a young lady +came into the room. She had a kind look on her face, as she held out her +hand to Arthur, and said—</p> + +<p>“I am so sorry you have been left here alone; but I +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 123]</span> could not leave the +baby, my youngest brother. Won’t you come upstairs to your room?”</p> + +<p>Arthur was feeling just a little shy, so he only shook hands with the +young lady, and followed her upstairs. On the way, he asked, “Will you +tell me how Edgar is?”</p> + +<p>“Not very well, to-day; but just now he is asleep, I think. Were you and +he great friends?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Arthur. “Are you his cousin?”</p> + +<p>“One of his cousins. I dare say he told you there were ever so many.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I don’t think he knew how many,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“No; I should think not,” said Maude, laughing. “I hardly do, sometimes. +But I believe altogether we number ten.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Arthur, “what, ten brothers and sisters at home?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; we are very seldom all at home together. Two of my brothers are +abroad, and some of the girls are at school. It is a very good thing they +are sometimes.”</p> + +<p>“There, that is Edgar’s room,” said Miss North, as they passed one of the +doors. “We try to keep the noise away from this passage as much as we can; +but it is not very easy with so many boys and girls.” This was very true, +as just then two boys about Arthur’s own age came bursting through one of +the doors, and were stopped by their sister at the entrance of the +passage.</p> + +<p>“Now, boys, don’t come this way. You know Edgar +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 124]</span> is asleep. Just tumble +down the other stairs, if you must tumble.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you never tear about in that way,” said Maude, with a faint +smile.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I think I do sometimes,” Arthur answered; “but, of course, it is +not so much fun doing it by one’s self.”</p> + +<p>They were in Arthur’s room now, which was a small one not very far from +Edgar’s; and a locked door, which opened into another room, showed that it +was a dressing-room.</p> + +<p>“You see, as the children and Edgar are at home, we have only this little +room. Will you be able to sleep here, do you think?”</p> + +<p>Edgar’s cousin smiled as she spoke, and Arthur thought how very nice it +made her look.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; I should think so,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Well, presently you will hear the tea bell. Oh, no; but I forgot! We +don’t ring the tea bell now that Edgar is ill. One of the children shall +let you know, if you are not down first.”</p> + +<p>But after a little while, when no one had come to call him, Arthur opened +his door and came down stairs. It did not need any one to tell him which +was the room where the young people were, as the sounds that came through +the shut door would let any one know that. Arthur paused outside the +school-room door, and then he opened it and went in. It was such a strange +new<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 125]</span> scene that he saw, so different from anything he had been accustomed +to, and he was almost bewildered by so many boys and girls, most of whom +seemed to be laughing and talking together.</p> + +<p>There was a long tea-table. The eldest sister was at the head, five +younger ones were seated around, and a tall boy was lying on a sofa near +the fire reading. Indeed, he did not call himself a boy at all; for he had +just left school, and was preparing for some difficult examination.</p> + +<p>All the faces round the table were turned towards Arthur as he opened the +door; but none of them spoke until Maude, noticing the silence, saw Arthur +standing. Then she said, “Gerald, why don’t you speak? or Harold, this is +Arthur Vivyan, Edgar’s friend.”</p> + +<p>The two boys shook hands, and then Arthur spoke to the three little girls, +who were looking as if they would like to speak. Arnold, the eldest, +seemed to be half asleep over his book; so they sat down to tea. Arthur +was wondering where the father and mother were. It seemed so strange +altogether, and he could not help thinking that it was rather a disorderly +party. All the children seemed to do very much as they liked, and yet it +appeared as if their eldest sister took a great deal of trouble to make +them behave properly. She seemed to be constantly putting them right +without much effect. Arthur wondered whether this was what gave her face +such a tired look.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 126]</span> +“Harold, I wish you would let Clara alone. Do take tea properly. Gerald, +you know you would not do that if papa were here.” And Maude gave a sigh, +as she saw her words had no effect.</p> + +<p>“I do wish you would behave properly; what must Edgar’s friend think of +you?”</p> + +<p>“I dare say he thinks we are something like himself,” said Gerald, “don’t +you?”</p> + +<p>Arthur laughed, because he did not know what else to do. And then Maude +gave a faint laugh.</p> + +<p>“What’s the use of keeping on wishing, Maude?” said Arnold, rousing +himself. “Why can’t you make them?”</p> + +<p>“Well, how would you?” asked Maude.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that is quite another thing,” said Arnold, yawning.</p> + +<p>“I dare say you could not do it as well as Maude,” said Harold.</p> + +<p>“No; very likely not,” said Arnold, laughing, and he returned to his book.</p> + +<p>“Well, I wish you would all make haste and finish tea,” said Maude, taking +out her watch, “whatever way you do it. Oh, dear, I must make haste, or I +shall not be ready in time for dinner. Arnold, you must go. What will papa +say if we are not ready when the bell rings?”</p> + +<p>Arnold got up as if with an immense effort. “I dare say I shall be ready +quite as soon as you are, Maudie. You always get into such a fluster about +every thing.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 127]</span> +When the two eldest were gone, the younger ones became still more lively. +One of the little girls was more quiet than the rest, and she seemed to +think it would be nice and polite to talk to their visitor.</p> + +<p>“Do you always have your meals by yourselves?” asked Arthur.</p> + +<p>“All except breakfast,” said Minnie. “You see, mamma hardly ever comes out +of her dressing-room; she is ill, and papa is away all the day, and he +only comes home to dinner at seven.”</p> + +<p>“Does he have dinner alone?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; you know that was the reason Maude was in such a hurry. She and +Arnold dine with papa.” Then they were both silent for a little while. +Presently Arthur said, “I wonder when I shall be able to see Edgar.”</p> + +<p>Minnie hesitated, and then said, “I was just thinking about that. You see, +Edgar does not know you have come; and, besides, I think he is asleep; he +was just now, and I cannot go and ask Maude.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Oh, because dinner is going on. Papa would not like it.”</p> + +<p>“You do what your sister tells you more than the others,” said Arthur, +“don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we all do sometimes,” said Minnie. After a little while she spoke +again:</p> + +<p>“I don’t think Maude would mind. Perhaps she +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 128]</span> forgot, and I can tell her +about it afterwards. I’ll tell you what we will do; we will go up to +Edgar’s door, and then I can go in, and you can stay outside while I see +whether he is asleep, and whether I can tell him that you are here. I +don’t think Maude will mind. Shall we?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Arthur. “I don’t see why she should, because I came on purpose +to see Edgar.”</p> + +<p>As soon as the other children saw Minnie and Arthur going away, there was +a general cry, “Minnie, where are you going?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” said Minnie resolutely.</p> + +<p>“We wanted to have ‘post’. There won’t be enough without you. Come now, +stop,” said Harold, putting his hand on the door handle.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Harold, do let us go!” said Minnie pitifully.</p> + +<p>“Well, tell us where you are going then?” Minnie saw that this was the +only chance.</p> + +<p>“We are going to Edgar’s room, I shall be back soon, Harold.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but we wanted Arthur Vivyan to play. Boys are twice the fun of +girls.”</p> + +<p>“But, you know, he came on purpose to see Edgar; and don’t you remember +how very, very ill, Edgar is, Harold?” said his sister gravely.</p> + +<p>Harold let go his grasp of the door, and Arthur and his new little friend +found themselves safely outside.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Minnie, as they stood on the landing at +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 129]</span> the top of the +stairs, “you stop here, and then I will come back in a minute.”</p> + +<p>She opened the door very cautiously, and looked in for a moment; then +Arthur saw her go inside and shut the door. It was several minutes before +she came back.</p> + +<p>“I told him,” she said. “Oh, I hope I did not do him any harm. He was so +very glad.”</p> + +<p>“Why,” said Arthur, “I should think that would be a good thing.”</p> + +<p>“But he is so ill, you know. I think you had better go in now. Oh,” she +said, just as she was turning away, “if you think him looking very +different from what he was last summer, don’t you think you had better not +seem surprised? I know my mother never likes people to say anything about +her looks.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>It was only the firelight that brightened Edgar’s room, and it danced and +sparkled around, and gave quite light enough for Arthur to see every thing +distinctly. The room felt very warm and comfortable as he went in, and the +sound of Edgar’s quick, hard breathing was very plain. Arthur drew very +quietly near the bedside. Little Minnie’s caution was well given; for it +needed an effort on his part to be quiet and composed, as he saw the +change in his friend; and he had to try very hard to keep the tears from +coming to his eyes. Edgar was lying so very still and quiet; his cheeks +were white and sunken, and his eyes looked large, and dark, and +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 130]</span> shining; +but there was a much happier look in them than in the old times when they +used to talk together.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Arthur,” said Edgar, trying to stretch out his hand, “I am so glad +you have come. I did so pray that I might see you again.”</p> + +<p>Arthur came and sat down as near him as he could. “Of course I came when +you wanted me, and my aunt said I might.”</p> + +<p>“Hold my hand, Arthur,” said Edgar, “while I talk to you. You are my +brother, you know.”</p> + +<p>Arthur took Edgar’s thin, hot hand, and held it in his own sturdy one; and +as he looked at him, he could not help it, the tears came into his eyes.</p> + +<p>“I know what you are thinking about, Arthur,” said Edgar, “and I know you +are trying to seem as if you do not think me very ill; but you need not +mind, I know I am, and I know I am going to be with the Lord Jesus very +soon.”</p> + +<p>“Dear Edgar,” said Arthur, burying his face in the bed-clothes to hide his +tears, “I never knew you really were so very ill.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you?” said Edgar. “No, I suppose not. I did not know it either, +until lately, for certain. But it will be so nice in heaven, Arthur, with +the Lord Jesus. I shall never be tired, or cross, or have those pains. And +the Lord Jesus wants to have me there; that is so nice to think of. You +know I have always had a feeling that people would as soon I was away; but +I know He really<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 131]</span> +wants to have me in heaven with Himself very much. It +makes me love Him so much to think of that. That is one of the things +Cousin Amy told me.”</p> + +<p>“Who is she? Does she live here?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; she is not one of these Norths; she is one of my other uncle’s +daughters; and she was staying here in the autumn. She taught me more +about the Lord Jesus than any one else, except you.”</p> + +<p>“Did I?” asked Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Why, you know you did. Don’t you remember those walks? I have never +forgotten those things, Arthur.”</p> + +<p>“But you used to be very miserable then.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I thought about it all afterwards; and then Cousin Amy was so +nice.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me some of the things she said,” asked Arthur; “that is, if you can; +but perhaps you have talked enough for to-night, Edgar. Perhaps I had +better go now.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” said Edgar; “do stay; it is so nice having you; and I can talk +much better in the evenings. I will tell you some of the nice thoughts I +had, if you like. You know I have had so much time to think, Arthur. I +have had so many hours by myself, lying here.”</p> + +<p>“Have you been here long, then, and by yourself? Oh, Edgar, why couldn’t +you have let me know?” asked Arthur reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“Oh, because I could not write myself. I became worse so suddenly, you +know. It seems such a long, <span class='pagenum'>[Pg 132]</span> +strange time since I came, and since last +holidays when I saw you, Arthur. At first it was so horrid; and then I got +ill, and then Cousin Amy came, and then Louisa and Minnie came home for +the holidays, and now you are here.”</p> + +<p>“How was it horrid?” asked Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Well, I know they did not much want me. I don’t mean they were unkind; +but just think of all the children here. It does not make much difference +to Uncle North, because he is away all the day at his office, nor to poor +Aunt North either, because she is always ill; but I know Maude has enough +to do already; and Arnold says he thinks boys are a great bother. Then the +others used to be making such a noise, and taking long walks, and I could +not; and they all said I was not happy; but I was just as happy as +anywhere else, only I could not be the same as they were.”</p> + +<p>“That little girl seems nice,” said Arthur, “the one that told you I was +here.”</p> + +<p>“Minnie? Oh, yes, she is a dear little thing. But she has only been at +home about a fortnight. It was she who got Aunt North to ask you to come. +I love her; she has been more kind to me than any of the rest.”</p> + +<p>“I expect my little sister Mildred would have been something like her if +she had lived,” said Arthur.</p> + +<p>“You cannot think how I used to wish for you, Arthur. While Cousin Amy was +here I never thought of asking her to write to you for me; besides, it +would<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 133]</span> +not have been very much use, when I could not have asked you to +come. Maude used sometimes to come up and sit in my room. But I don’t know +how it is, I feel rather afraid of Maude; and she has so much to do, and +altogether I did not like her to do it. Then when the holidays began she +could not come up. But the day after Minnie came home, she came up and +talked; and I did not mind asking her anything.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ask her to write to me?” asked Arthur.</p> + +<p>“Not exactly. One day she asked me, when we were talking about my not +going to live, whether there was any one I would like to see; and I said +there was one person, and that was you, you know. Then the next time she +came she said, ‘I’ve asked mamma, Edgar, and she says we may, if Maude can +manage.’ I could not think what she meant at first. Was she not a dear +little thing?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and then,” said Arthur, very much interested.</p> + +<p>“Oh, then she coaxed Maude in some way, and I said the letter, and Minnie +wrote it.”</p> + +<p>Just then the door opened, and some one appeared with a tray, whom Arthur +had not yet seen. This was the nurse, who was a kind person, and came to +Edgar’s bedside when she could leave her own charge.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” she said, “so you have your friend, Mr. Edgar, I see.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, nurse,” said Edgar, “isn’t it nice?”</p> + +<p>“But you must not talk too much, you know, sir.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 134]</span> +“I expect he has been talking quite enough,” said Arthur, jumping up; “and +I am going now, Edgar, I can come again to-morrow, you know.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a good young gentleman,” said nurse.</p> + +<p>So Edgar’s thoughts could not be told until the next day.</p> + +<p>On the way down stairs, Arthur met Maude; and he began to wonder now +whether she would like his having been all this time in Edgar’s room, and +whether she would know. Perhaps his thoughts were in his face, for Maude +smiled, and said:</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know. You have been in Edgar’s room. Minnie told me all about it. +What did you think of him?”</p> + +<p>“I think he is very, very ill, Miss North.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; poor child. It is easy to see he cannot live long. He is very +peaceful though.”</p> + +<p>Maude sighed as she spoke. Perhaps she was wishing that she was the same +herself, and that there was a peace in her heart which the Lord gives, +“not as the world giveth.”</p> + +<p>“Miss North,” said Arthur, “you did not mind your sister having taken me +up stairs, did you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, no. I dare say she knows quite as well as I do what is good for +Edgar. She is a very sensible little woman.”</p> + +<p>Arthur did not find that the North family were much more subdued and +orderly the next day than they had +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 135]</span> been the evening before. This was +holiday time, and with no lessons to do, it could hardly be expected but +that there should be a commotion all the day.</p> + +<p>Happily the school-room was some distance from the room where the sick boy +lay, so very little noise found its way there.</p> + +<p>Mrs. North wished to see Arthur the next day. He felt rather shy of going; +but as it had to be done, he made up his mind to do it. He thought her +something like her daughter Maude, only more quiet and gentle, and there +was a sweeter look on her face than Maude usually wore.</p> + +<p>When the evening came, a message was sent that Edgar wanted to have Arthur +with him again. He was always better at that time; and he would sit up +with the pillows around him, and the crimson curtains looking so dark and +red behind his pale white face; but the firelight that glowed around, and +showed Arthur how thin and sunken his face was, showed him, too, that a +calm, happy peace was spreading there, and making it very beautiful.</p> + +<p>“Arthur,” said Edgar, “I want you to have my Bible and my watch; will you? +and keep them always for my sake.”</p> + +<p>“But, Edgar, you don’t <em>know</em> you are going to die; you don’t know it for +certain,” said Arthur, his voice trembling a little.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I do; I know I am dying; but, you know, +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 136]</span> Arthur, I am only going +to the Lord Jesus, and He wants me so much; for He has died instead of me, +and all my sins are washed away in His precious blood. Cousin Amy used to +sing something so nice; I cannot remember it all, but some of it was +this—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Like a bairn to its mither, a wee birdie to its nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I wad fain be ganging noo unto my Saviour’s breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For He gathers in His bosom witless, worthless lambs like me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And carries them Himsel’ to His ain countree.’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“And that is just the way I feel, Arthur. I feel just going to my home; +and I shall never be tired or cross there.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you are not cross here,” said Arthur. “Edgar, do tell me about +your getting so happy.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; and I want to tell you about Cousin Amy too. Well, you know, it +was rather miserable when first I came, and I had to be up here all alone; +and I used to cry so, Arthur, thinking about you—I dare say it was like a +baby; but I could not help it—and about papa. Oh, I did so want to see +papa! and it did not make me happy to think about the Lord Jesus and +heaven. But Cousin Amy came; and she used to sit here and read me little +bits, and hymns; one was that one I said a bit of, and others. And she was +so kind; she used to get me nice cool things to take; and sometimes she +would fan me, and put her hand on my head when it was so hot; and, oh, I +was so sorry when she was gone. One evening I was crying, and then I began +thinking about the last verses she had read to me. You know, it was +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 137]</span> that +part about the Lord feeding the multitude; and then He sent the disciples +away in a boat, and went by Himself to pray; and I thought if I had been +alive then, and that I had known He was away in that mountain by Himself, +I would have got out of bed, and would have found my way to Him; and it +would have been so nice with nobody there but Himself and me on the great +lonely mountain! I should have felt so safe with Him anywhere. And then I +began to think what He would have said to me; and I thought it would be, +‘Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.’ Then I would have +stayed, you know, because He would not send me away. And I thought He +would have put His arms round me; and how safe I would have felt! And then +I began thinking that I could do just the same in bed where I was, because +He could see and hear just the same; so I said to Him, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, +I am here at Thy feet;’ and I said to Him that hymn, ‘Just as I am.’ It +was so happy. And now to think of all the things He has given +me—everlasting life, and the forgiveness of my sins, and so much! And, +Arthur, I am just keeping there now until I go to sleep, and I shall be +with Him for ever.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Edgar,” said Arthur, “I am glad you are so happy.”</p> + +<p>Edgar had talked so much that he was exhausted; and he had to lie back on +the pillows, breathing very quickly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 138]</span> +So they stayed quiet for a little while; and the firelight glowed and +danced on Arthur’s brown curls, and lighted his ruddy cheeks that seemed +to make the paleness of Edgar’s greater.</p> + +<p>“Edgar,” said Arthur, “you will not be able to come to Ashton Grange now. +Don’t you remember when we said you would? I did think it would have been +so nice.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I remember,” a little shade passing over Edgar’s face. “I used to +think it would be so nice. But, Arthur, it is better to go to the Lord +Jesus; it is the Father’s house, you know, and my father and mother are +there; and it is my own home.”</p> + +<p>Edgar’s voice had been getting weaker while he was speaking the last time; +and as Arthur looked at him, it seemed even to him, who knew so little +about illness, that Edgar must be worse.</p> + +<p>“Edgar,” he said, “I am going now, because I know you are tired; and nurse +told me you would want something to eat when I went, so I shall send her +to you. Good-night, Edgar, dear Edgar.”</p> + +<p>He did not try to keep Arthur that night; and the “good-night” he said to +him was faintly spoken; but there was a loving look in his dark eye as he +watched his friend to the door.</p> + +<p>They neither of them knew how very near Edgar was to “his own home,” and +that very soon his weary spirit would rest for ever, where no heart can +breathe a sigh, and no sound can enter to say it is not joy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 139]</span> +That night a ransomed one went away from the earth, and God took him. He +would never be weary any more, and no pain or trouble would make the +lonely child sorrowful. He would never know what it was to be anxious or +unhappy; he would have the sweetness of perfect rest, for</p> + +<p class="center">“So He giveth His beloved sleep.”</p> + +<p>And Edgar knew that the Lord who loved him had a welcome for him in the +bright home of everlasting joy; for He has said, “Father, I will that they +also whom Thou hast given me be with me where I am.”</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/img138.jpg" width="200" height="95" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 140]</span><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 409px;"> +<img src="images/img139.jpg" width="409" height="100" alt="Page decoration" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>CONCLUSION.</strong></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 63px;"> +<img src="images/img-w.png" width="63" height="58" alt="W" title="" /> +</div><p>E will now pass over the next four years. After Edgar North was taken +home, to be for ever with his Saviour, Arthur returned to Myrtle Hill with +a sad, sad heart; for he loved Edgar very much, and he was the only +boy-friend he ever had.</p> + +<p>But then his sorrow was sweetened by the knowledge that Edgar was not gone +into a dim, unknown region; but had left this world to be with that +gracious Saviour who loved him far more, and cared for him better than any +earthly friend could, however willing; and then Arthur knew that by-and-by +they would be together; and meanwhile he was under the same good +Shepherd’s care, and just as safe as his little friend; for the Lord Jesus +has promised that His sheep shall “never perish.” Is it not happy to be a +lamb of that flock which has Jesus for its Shepherd?</p> + +<p>So the years passed on. Arthur was still studying very hard at his +lessons, and trying to work for his +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 141]</span> Master in the little ways he could. +And did he all this time forget his dear father and mother in the far-off +land? No, indeed. Often and often his fancy would wander far over the deep +blue sea, to that country which contained those who were nearest and +dearest to him, and the yearning to see them was just as strong as ever. +Seven long years had passed since that sad day of parting, which Arthur +remembered so well; and these years had made a great difference in him. He +was not the same little boy as when we first saw him; indeed <em>he</em> quite +thought his sixteen years entitled him to drop the appellation of “boy;” +and he had grown to be very tall, so that he looked older than he really +was. I think few people but his mother would have recognized him, and she +would have known him by the same bright, open look on his face, and his +merry blue eyes, for they were unchanged. Arthur had not been left alone +all these years for nothing. In his loneliness and sorrow he had been +learning slowly, but surely, more and more to cast all his care on +another, to confide in Him as a child in its father; he knew more of the +rest of lying in those “everlasting arms,” and had proved what a refuge +God is; and this was well worth all the sorrow through which he had learnt +the lesson.</p> + +<p>One morning in May, when Arthur came down to breakfast, he found on the +table something that was always welcome to him—a letter from India. He +tore it open eagerly enough, but how little he knew what it +<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 142]</span> contained! It +was from his mother, and she wrote to tell her boy that Mr. Vivyan’s time +had now ended, so nothing hindered their return to England, and even now, +by the time this letter arrived, they would be on their way home. It was +hurriedly written, as she was busy preparing for the voyage, so there was +little more said in it than was necessary; but Arthur’s heart gave a quick +response as he read the words: “And God only knows the great joy He has in +store for me in giving me back my darling Arthur.”</p> + +<p>Was it <em>really</em> true? Arthur could scarcely believe it, that the long +thought of and yearned for time was indeed so near. How often in his fancy +he had tried to picture to himself that meeting, and to imagine what his +feelings would be, and now it was coming so soon. He felt almost a little +stunned at first, it was so sudden; but he was very, very happy, and very +thankful to his Father in heaven for giving him this joy.</p> + +<p>It was not long before Mrs. Estcourt came down. Her face showed that she +already knew the good news, for she had a letter that morning too, and she +met Arthur, who came eagerly to greet her, with a fond, sympathising +embrace. “Oh, Arthur,” she said, “I am <em>so</em> glad for you.” His aunt then +told him, during the course of breakfast, that they expected the ship +would probably reach England in about a week from this time, and they +would come direct to Myrtle Hill, where they would stay a little while.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 143]</span> +It was some days after this, when Arthur had hardly got over the first +excitement, that another letter arrived. This time the post-mark was +Southampton. They were in England, and hoped to be at Mrs. Estcourt’s +house the following day. What a long and wearisome morning the next was! +for, as I dare say every one knows, time always passes slowly when we are +expecting or waiting for anything. Mrs. Vivyan had said in her letter, +that the train by which they intended to come arrived at about five +o’clock. The day could not have been more lovely; it was a soft, bright, +early summer’s evening, and the country around Myrtle Hill looked very +beautiful in the mellow sunlight; the trees which surrounded the house +cast long, dark shadows on the green sloping lawn, and rustled gently as +the breeze stirred amongst them. Arthur was out there watching and +listening for the sound of carriage wheels, and though the time seemed to +him to be creeping instead of flying, it was not really so very long +before he heard it. In another minute a tall, fair lady was stepping out +of the carriage. Arthur only said “Mother!” and rushed into her arms, and +then to his father: it would be hard to say which was the happiest in that +meeting-moment, only Arthur felt rather as if he were in a dream. May not +such earthly joys show us a little what it will be to see the One whom, +having not seen, we love? And as Arthur thus rejoiced in the fulfilment of +his long-cherished hope, what will it be to have our one great hope at +last realized?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 144]</span> +“And His servants shall serve Him, and they shall see His +face.”</p> + +<p>It was not until late in the evening that Arthur and his mother were quite +alone, when all the first bustle and talking were over; and then what a +happy, quiet talk it was! and how their hearts were overflowing with +happiness! Then they both knelt down together again before the throne of +grace, and Mrs. Vivyan offered up heartfelt thanks and praise to God for +past protection, and for now bringing herself and her son together.</p> + +<p>Arthur left Myrtle Hill to live with his father and mother; and his mother +rejoiced to see that her fondest hopes and wishes for him were fulfilled; +and when he had left his childhood behind him, it was still his joy to +deliver to others the glad message of salvation with which his Master had +entrusted him.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/img143.png" width="200" height="98" alt="The End" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center1">KILMARNOCK:<br /> +JOHN RITCHIE, PUBLISHER.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFT AT HOME***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22916-h.txt or 22916-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/1/22916">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/9/1/22916</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. 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100644 index 0000000..b4ac3c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/22916-page-images/p144.png diff --git a/22916.txt b/22916.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4eb204 --- /dev/null +++ b/22916.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4237 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Left at Home, by Mary L. Code + + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Left at Home + or, The Heart's Resting Place + + +Author: Mary L. Code + + + +Release Date: October 8, 2007 [eBook #22916] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFT AT HOME*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Anne Storer, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 22916-h.htm or 22916-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/1/22916/22916-h/22916-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/1/22916/22916-h.zip) + + + + + +LEFT AT HOME; + +Or, The Heart's Resting-place. + +by + +MARY L. CODE, + +Author of +"Wandering May;" "Clarie's Little Charge;" +"Lonely Lily;" Etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "They walked on for some distance without saying +much."--_Page 92._] + + + +Kilmarnock: +John Ritchie, +Publisher of Christian Literature. + +And Through All Booksellers. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + CHAPTER I. Page + LITTLE MILDRED 7 + + CHAPTER II. + GOING TO INDIA 16 + + CHAPTER III. + ARTHUR'S MOTHER 26 + + CHAPTER IV. + LAST DAYS AT ASHTON GRANGE 30 + + CHAPTER V. + THE PARTING 44 + + CHAPTER VI. + MYRTLE HILL 47 + + CHAPTER VII. + LEFT ALONE 60 + + CHAPTER VIII. + EDGAR NORTH 79 + + CHAPTER IX. + MIDSUMMER HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 108 + + CHAPTER X. + AT REST NOW 114 + + CHAPTER XI. + CONCLUSION 140 + + +[Illustration: ASHTON GRANGE.] + + + + +LEFT AT HOME. + +CHAPTER I. + +LITTLE MILDRED, OR THE GATHERED LAMB. + + +"Stop, Mr. Arthur, if you please. You are not to go upstairs. Mistress +left orders for you to stay in the library until she came down." + +So spoke the younger servant at Ashton Grange, as Arthur rushed upstairs +three steps at a time. + +"Why, what's the matter? Why shouldn't I go upstairs? Is anything the +matter?" + +"I don't know, Mr. Arthur, whether there is much the matter; but I am +afraid Miss Mildred is ill. The doctor is upstairs, and mistress said +there is not to be a sound of noise." + +These words quite sobered Arthur, as he turned from the stairs and went +into the library. It was a pleasant room at all times, but especially so +on a winter's evening, when the frosty night was shining clear and cold +without. A bright fire was blazing, lighting up the crimson carpet and +curtains, and sparkling on the snowy table-cover, where preparations for +such a tea were made as Arthur was usually at this time prepared to +appreciate. But as he sat down on the rug, and, holding his face in his +two hands, gazed earnestly into the fire, he was not thinking of his +hunger. A very grave expression was on his boyish face. He was thinking of +what the housemaid had told him, and wishing very much to know more. + +"Why, what can be the matter with baby?" he thought. "She was all right +when I went out. She can't be so very bad, I should think, all in a +minute. No; I don't believe she is. I'm hungry." + +And Arthur started up, and came nearer the table, intending to help +himself to something. But then he stopped, and thought again-- + +"I suppose she is though, or else the doctor wouldn't be here, and every +one wouldn't have to be so quiet. Oh, dear, I wish mother would come. I +wish she would come. I do wish very much she would come." + +Then he thought of creeping quietly upstairs, and listening outside the +nursery door; and the temptation to do so was very strong; but he +remembered his mother's injunction, and sat down again on the rug. But it +was very hard to wait. It would have been a great deal easier to Arthur to +do almost anything else just then. One half hour and then another passed, +and no sound came to break the stillness which was in the house, till +Arthur's head dropped on his hand for weariness, and in a few minutes he +was fast asleep. How long he remained so he hardly knew; but he did not +wake until a gentle step came on the stairs. The door was softly opened, +and Arthur's mother entered the room. She was very pale, and had a sad, +sad look on her face, and just sank wearily down in an easy-chair, on the +opposite side of the fireplace to her little boy, who was wide awake now. + +"Oh, mother, is it true what Anna says about Mildred, that she is so very +ill?" asked Arthur breathlessly. He had come nearer to his mother, and, +leaning his chin on her knee, he looked eagerly up in her face. + +"Yes, Arthur;" and the hand that was pressed on his forehead to stroke +back his brown hair was hot and trembling. + +"_Very_ ill?" asked Arthur again. "Why, she was a right just after dinner. +She will get better, won't she, mamma?" + +"Mildred is very, very ill, dear Arthur," his mother said gently. "I came +to tell you myself, darling, because I knew you would be wanting to know. +She has been attacked with croup very violently indeed, and the doctor +does not give me any hope that she will live. I cannot stay with you, my +darling boy." + +She did not say any more, and before Arthur had scarcely understood what +he had heard, his mother was gone. There was only one thought in his mind +now. Mildred dying! his darling baby sister, who a little while ago had +laughed, and crowed, and kicked her pretty feet as he played with her. How +could it all have happened? And how soon a dark cloud had fallen over +everything that had seemed so bright! And then a little picture of her +fresh baby face came before him, and he could see the little rosy mouth, +and bright blue eyes, and the soft cheek that he had so often kissed. +Would her sweet face _never_ laugh again? And would he never hear her +clear, soft voice calling "Artie, Artie"? Arthur did not know he had loved +his baby sister so deeply until now that the dark, sad news had come that +perhaps she was going to be taken away from them all for ever. So he sat +in the pleasant firelight on the hearth-rug; but there was no brightness +on his face now. A very grave cloud had fallen on it, as the words were in +his heart that his mother had told him. And then, as he thought about what +they really meant, his lip quivered, and the tears fell on the floor, till +at length his head bowed down on the armchair where his mother had been +sitting, and Arthur sobbed bitterly all alone. It was a very hopeless, +heart-sick feeling, as he wept with the vehemence of his strong, loving +nature; and he had never felt in this way before; for all his life +hitherto he had known what it was to be loved and to love, and had never +had cause to mourn over the loss of what his heart had wound itself +around. + +"I wish some one would come and tell me how Mildred is," said Arthur +presently to himself, after half an hour had passed when he had been +crying on the rug. "I wonder is the doctor going to stay there all night?" + +Poor little Arthur! it was very hard work waiting there all alone with no +one to speak to, not even Hector the house-dog, his friend and confidant; +for a servant had gone into the town and taken him with him. Presently the +door opened, and he started up eagerly. It was the housemaid, and the +candle that she held in her hand showed a grave, tear-stained face. + +"Mr. Arthur, will you come upstairs?" she said. "Mistress sent me to tell +you. Will you come up to the nursery?" + +"Why--what--may I really? What, is she better then?" asked Arthur +joyfully, and yet with a certain trembling at his heart, as he saw the +expression on Anna's face. + +"Oh, no, Mr. Arthur," she said, bursting into tears. "Poor, dear little +darling, she can't scarce breathe; its dreadful to hear her, and she such +a sweet little pet. Oh, dear, dear, dear, and whatever will mistress do, +and master?" + +But Arthur was not crying now as he went slowly up the stairs, feeling as +if it was all a dream, and not at all as if these were the same stairs +that he generally mounted, or that this was the nursery door where he had +generally bounded in with a laughing shout to the bright little sister +who now lay very near the shore of the other land. She was a very little +girl; not two years ago she had first come; and Arthur, who had been +half-afraid of the tiny baby that lay in the nurse's arms so still and +quiet, had by degrees learnt to love her with all his heart. He knew just +the best ways to please her, and to make her voice ring out the merry crow +he so liked to hear; and always, when she saw her brother coming up the +avenue that led to the house, she would stretch out her tiny arms, and try +to jump from her nurse's arms to meet him. + +It was only a few hours ago that Arthur had waved his hand to her, and +made Hector jump and roll along the ground, that she might see him. She +had looked so bright and rosy then, and now it was all so different! + +The room felt warm as he entered, and there seemed to be a great many +people around the little white bed where Mildred lay. Arthur never, never +forgot that scene; it lay on his heart like a strange, sad picture all his +life. He could not see his little sister's face, only a stray golden curl +was peeping from the white sheet, and lay on the pillow; he could hear her +breathing, and it made his heart quiver to listen to the sounds. The nurse +was standing a little aside; for there was nothing more for her to do. She +had been placing hot flannels, and trying favourite remedies; but these +were all of no avail. The doctor was standing at the post of the bed; for +he knew that Mildred's little life was ebbing fast. And then Arthur looked +at his father and mother. His mother was sitting by the pillow, and she +almost lay upon the bed as she leant over her little dying child. His +father was standing close by, and Arthur looked again at the expression +that was on his face. He was in general a little afraid of his father; in +fact, for the last two or three years he had not seen him at all, and it +was only by the kind letters and messages from India, that he had known +him of late, and he had thought him rather grave and stern, he was so +different from his sweet, gentle mother; and though Arthur loved him at a +distance, he had quite different feelings for her. + +But now, as he looked again, he saw that a softness was on his father's +face, and that the hand that was laid on his wife's shoulder was +trembling; and the thought that was in Arthur's mind just then was, +"Father really looks as if he was going to cry." + +Presently his mother went a little closer to her baby, and Arthur just +heard her whisper, "Let her die in my arms." His father looked as if he +thought it would be better not. But she looked up again: "Give her, I +must." So very gently she took the covering from the child, and drew her +to her arms. + +Little Mildred did not lie there very long. It was terrible to see her, +and Arthur could hardly bear to look; but he did look as the convulsions +made her struggle and gasp for breath. + +At length he heard his father's voice in a low whisper say, "She's gone; +thank God." And then he saw him take a little helpless form from his +mother's arms and lay it back on the white bed, and Arthur saw that his +tiny sister was dead. She was lying still, her breath was gone for ever; +her eyes were closed, and her curls lay soft and golden on the pillow. She +would never open her blue eyes again, and her voice would never more call +"Artie, Artie." + +He just saw that his mother sunk down on the floor by the bedside. He +could not see her face, but he heard a deep, deep groan, and then she +said, "My baby, my darling." She did not cry, she only knelt there still +and silent; and then suddenly a great rush of feeling came over Arthur's +heart as the thought of sweet little Mildred lying dead came over his +mind, and he threw himself by his mother's side, burying his face on her +shoulder, and burst into a passion of crying. "Oh, mamma, mamma!" was all +he said. "Don't, Arthur; you had better go down stairs, my boy," said his +father gently. But his mother whispered, "Let him stay;" and she threw her +arms round him, and clasped him so tightly that he could hardly breathe. + +Perhaps it was good for her to hear her child's sobs; they seemed to enter +into her heart and melt it, for it was icy in its mourning before. + +"God has taken our little Mildred," said Arthur's father presently, in a +very choked, quivering voice. "He has taken her to be very happy with +Himself. He will take care of her for ever." + +"I know it," said Arthur's mother; "better than we could." + +Presently Arthur got up, and before he went away from the room he threw +his arms once more around his little dead sister, and the tears fell over +her golden curls and her round fair cheeks, which were still round and +red. + +He cried himself to sleep that night, and when he awoke in the morning it +was with a dreary feeling that a great deal was gone. He was the only +child now, and as he stood by the little open grave where Mildred's tiny +coffin had been lowered, and as he felt the soft, tight clasp of his +mother's hand in his, Arthur felt he would be a loving boy to her. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +GOING TO INDIA. + + +The home seemed very sad and silent indeed without the little child who +had been laid in the low green-covered grave, and a sadness seemed to have +fallen upon it. At first Arthur went about the house silently and slowly, +and it was some time before his boyish spirits came back to him; but he +was only a boy after all, and a very young boy, and by and by, when the +green leaves came budding on the trees and the spring voice was waking in +the valleys and the fields, when the young lambs answered with their +bleating and the young birds sung a chorus of bursting joy, Arthur's face +brightened, and his step was bounding again. And his mother was glad to +see him with the weary cloud gone, only her heart ached with a deep throb +as she thought of the new care that was hanging over him, and of which he +knew nothing as yet. + +One day, when Arthur was passing the door of his mother's morning-room, he +heard his father's voice within, saying, "I think you had better tell him, +Louisa." The door was partly open, and if he listened he would easily be +able to hear what they were saying. The temptation was very strong, and +Arthur yielded to it. It was very wrong, and he knew it. + +"Oh, no!" he heard his mother say, "I could not tell him; I don't think I +could. It almost breaks my heart to think of it myself." + +"Louisa," said his father--and Arthur thought his voice sounded rather +sad--"you know it is your own choice, and even now you can change if you +like." + +"Oh, no, no, dear Ronald!" said his mother--and he could hear that her +voice was quivering and trembling--"you know very well I could not. +Forgive me, I ought to be very thankful I have you still; and so I am. But +tell him yourself, Ronald; you know I am so foolish." + +"Very well," said Mr. Vivyan, rising and stirring the fire with great +energy, as if he were then acting what he had made up his mind to do. + +And then Arthur stole away, feeling very strange with various mingled +feelings. Something seemed to say that the conversation concerned him, but +what it was all about he could not imagine. Something terrible seemed to +be going to happen; something that his mother could not make up her mind +to tell. And then he remembered how very wrong it had been for him to +listen to this conversation. He had always been taught never to do such a +thing, and the consciousness of his fault weighed heavily on his mind. He +wished very much that he had not waited at the door, when he had seen it +stand so temptingly open. Indeed, so much did he think about what he had +done, that the strange things he had heard hardly troubled him. + +But by and by, when he was walking through the lanes, where the primroses +were dotting the hedgerows with green and yellow tufts, he began to think +again of what he had heard, and his step was slow and steady as he +thought. He was not the same Arthur who generally bounded along, startling +the little lambs who were feeding on the other side of the hedge; and +Hector seemed puzzled by the unusual quiet as he ran on first, inviting +his master to follow. Altogether it was a very grave and thoughtful walk, +and when Arthur came in, the quiet look was on his face still, and a very +troubled expression could be seen there. + +"Arthur dear, is anything the matter?" asked his mother in the evening, as +he sat on his low stool before the fire doing nothing, and thinking again +of what he had heard and what he had done. + +Arthur started, and blushed a very deep red. + +"Why should you think there was anything the matter, mother?" + +"Because I see there is," she said quietly. + +He did not answer, and Mr. Vivyan looked out keenly at him, from behind +the book he was reading. But still Arthur had nothing to say, and the +troubled look came deeper on his face. He came nearer to his mother's +chair, and presently when he found himself there he laid his head on her +lap. + +"What is it, my darling?" she asked, laying her hand on his brown hair. +Then the tears came into his eyes, and it was not directly that he was +able to say, "Mother, I know it was very wrong of me; but I heard what you +and papa were saying this morning when you were in the boudoir." + +"It was very wrong indeed," said Mr. Vivyan; "I did not think you would +have done such a thing, Arthur." + +"Oh, Arthur, Arthur!" said his mother very gently and sadly, "why did you, +why did you not remember?" + +He was crying now, and he did not need to be told that he had done very +wrong. + +"Well, then, you know all about it, I suppose?" said Arthur's father. + +"No, I don't, papa. I only heard that something dreadful was going to +happen; and you told mother to tell some one, and she said she couldn't; +and then you said you would, and I don't remember the rest." + +Mr. Vivyan smiled rather sadly, and Arthur felt his mother's arm more +closely clasped around him. + +"Was it about me?" asked Arthur presently. + +Mr. Vivyan looked up at his wife, and then he said, "Arthur, my boy, when +I was in India before, why did your mother stay in England?" + +"I don't know," said Arthur, somewhat surprised at the question. "To take +care of me, I suppose. Oh no, it wasn't, though; it was because she was +ill, and she couldn't live in India, the doctor said." + +"Yes; and now, is she as ill as she was then?" + +"Oh no, I should think not!" said Arthur brightly. "She is ever so much +better, aren't you, mother?" + +"Yes, dear," she said gently. + +"Well," said Mr. Vivyan, speaking very slowly, and laying his hand kindly +on Arthur's curls, "did you know, Arthur, that my time for being in +England is very nearly over? there are only six weeks more left." + +"Yes, father," said Arthur, and feeling his father's hand laid so tenderly +on his head, he felt more sorry at the thought that he was going than he +had ever done before. "I'm very sorry." + +"But then, don't you see, my boy," Mr. Vivyan said, looking anxious and as +if he had great difficulty in expressing himself, "your mother need not +stay at home this time?" + +"No," said Arthur, after a pause, "I suppose not. And am I going to India +too?" + +"Why no, my dear child. You know how glad we should be to take you with +us; and very likely you do not know, Arthur, what it costs us to leave you +at home. But you know you could not go; children of your age would very +likely not live." + +Arthur turned quickly round, and gazed with an incredulous, questioning +look at his father and mother. He could not see his mother's face, for it +was hidden by her hand; but if he had looked closely he might have seen +that her whole form was trembling, though she did not speak a word. + +"Papa," said Arthur presently, "what can you mean? Do you really mean that +you and mother are going out to India, and that you are going to leave me +in England by myself?" + +"Dear Arthur, you know we must." + +Arthur turned away, and for a little while he said nothing. Presently he +spoke--it seemed as if half to himself--"No, I don't believe that," he +said. "I don't believe that could be true." + +"Arthur, my darling, darling boy, come here," said his mother, after some +time when nobody had spoken. + +Arthur came nearer to his mother, and laid his head upon her knee. He was +feeling almost stunned, and as if he had not understood yet what he had +heard. Then a sudden thought came over him, that it meant he would soon +not be able to do this any more. + +"Mamma," he said in a low voice, which was very touchingly sad in its +hopelessness, "need you go? Wouldn't you rather stay at home with me?" + +"Oh, Arthur," said Mrs. Vivyan, "you must not say those things, dear." + +"Won't you take me with you, then? I don't believe I could stay at home +without you. Won't you take me? Oh, do! please, do!" + +All this was said in a very low, mournful voice; for Arthur felt almost +as if he had not strength to cry about it. + +"Arthur," said Mr. Vivyan, speaking gravely but kindly, "I tell you we +would if we could; but you must be contented to believe that it cannot +be." + +"But I am sure it would do me no harm, father; you don't know how much +heat I can bear. I believe I am better sometimes in hot weather. And oh! I +don't believe I _could_ live in England by myself." + +He gave a very weary sigh, and leant his head heavily on his mother. +Presently he felt a tear on his forehead, and he knew that she must be +crying. + +"My own darling little mamma," said Arthur, "I love you with my whole +heart. Oh, you don't know how very much I love you!" and he gave a deep, +weary sigh. + +She put her arm round him, and pressed him very closely to her heart; and +he felt as if he were a tired little baby, and that it was very nice to +have his mother's arm around him. By and by he began crying; not with a +hard, passionate feeling, but in a weak, weary way, the tears flowing down +one after another over his mother's hands. + +"My dear child," said Mr. Vivyan, as the time came nearer for Arthur to go +to bed, "you don't know what it is to your mother and to me to leave you; +but we hope you will be happy by and by, for your aunt will be very kind +to you, and will love you very much. She lives in a very nice part of the +country. You may be sure, Arthur, we should be quite certain that every +one would be kind to you." + +"Do you mean that I am to live with some other person?" asked Arthur +listlessly. + +"Yes, with my sister; that is, your aunt." + +It did not seem to matter very much to Arthur just then where he was +going, or what was to become of him. He knew his father and mother were +going away, and that he was to be left all alone, quite alone it seemed to +him, and a very desolate, forlorn feeling fell over his heart, and seemed +to make him feel numbed and heavy. + +"Good night, my own dear mother," said Arthur, as he took his candle. He +was not crying, and there was almost a little wan smile on his face as he +said it, making him look very different from the bright, joyous boy who +generally threw his arms around her neck with an embrace, which was most +emphatic as well as affectionate. He did not know how her heart was aching +for him, and he knew still less of the pain his father felt, but could not +show. + +As Arthur sunk on his knees that night by the side of his little bed where +the firelight was brightening and glowing, a deep sob came up from the +very depths of his heart; and when he tried to pray, all he could say was, +"O God, take care of me; for there is nobody else." + +Arthur knew what it was to have put his trust in the Saviour of the world, +but hitherto everything had been so bright, and things had come and gone +so smoothly, that he had not thought much about Him. He stayed awake a +very long time, waiting to see if his mother would come and talk to him, +as she very often did when there was anything to say. He did not know what +had passed when he had left the library, that his mother's head had sunk +low, and her heart had shed the tears that he had not seen, and that now +came flowing from her eyes. And he did not know that she was utterly unfit +to speak to any one, so that when she stopped at his door, and seemed to +be going in, his father had said-- + +"No, Louisa, you must not; I will go and tell him that you would come, but +that you can't." + +So that was how it was when Arthur heard his bedroom door open, and looked +round with an eager longing in his eye. He sunk back again on his pillow +when he saw that it was his father that was coming towards him, and he lay +there quite quietly without moving, so that Mr. Vivyan almost thought he +was asleep. + +"Arthur," he said, "your mother wished me to tell you that she would have +come to see you herself, only she was not able. You know, my dear little +boy, she is quite ill with the thought of your trouble; and won't you try +and be cheerful, for I am sure you would not like to make her ill, would +you, Arthur?" + +"No, father," said Arthur, in a very quiet voice, without lifting his head +or looking up. + +"Good night, my child," said his father, stooping down and kissing him; +and then as he took his candle and went away from the room he said to +himself, "He is a very strange boy--very strange indeed. After all, I +don't think he takes it so very much to heart as Louisa imagines." + +But he did not know. When Arthur heard his door shut, and when he knew +that no one would come in again, the storm began, and it was a storm of +passion when sorrow, and anger, and affection all raged together. + +Arthur had always been a passionate child, and now the wild tempest that +nobody saw showed plainly his uncontrolled feelings. "Oh, dear! oh, dear! +what shall I do?" moaned the poor child to himself, tossing on his bed. +"And am I making mamma ill too? But how can I help it? How _can_ I help +it? I can't help being most frightfully miserable; yes, and angry too. I +am angry. Why did he come back from India to take mother away? I don't +believe she wants to go. Yes, I suppose she does though. Oh, I wish, I +wish he had never come back from India! Everything has gone wrong since. I +don't love him one bit. I wish, oh, I wish it was as it used to be once!" + +Poor Arthur, he sobbed and moaned until he was tired, and the knowledge +that he was very wicked did not certainly make him happier. + +He sobbed himself to sleep that night, and when the morning sunbeams stole +into the room and lighted on the white curtains of his bed, he awoke with +a dull, desolate feeling of a great pain in his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ARTHUR'S MOTHER; OR, "SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS." + + +Mrs. Vivyan's morning-room was on the pleasant sunny side of the house, +and was a very favourite retreat of her little boy. Indeed there was one +corner of it which he considered as especially his own. It was a little +sofa near the window, rather hidden in a recess, so that any one might be +lying there and not be seen. Perhaps this idea of privacy was one thing +which made Arthur like it; and then it was near the window, from which +he could see the garden and the birds; and he liked to watch the sun +sparkling on the pond, and making diamond showers of the fountain, which +sometimes he would persuade the gardener to do for him. + +And now, with his new deep trouble weighing on his heart, he sought his +usual refuge. Nobody was in the room as Arthur and his companion, Hector, +came in, Arthur throwing himself wearily on the sofa, and Hector making +himself comfortable on the rug. + +"Oh, dear!" groaned Arthur, after a while; "I don't think mother cares +very much. Come here, sir; do you care?" + +Hector came, and obediently lay down near the sofa. + +"Father doesn't care much, that I'm pretty sure of," continued Arthur; +"but I don't mind that so much. I wonder will mother miss me in India. I +wonder will you miss me, Hector, old boy. You ought, and you will too, I +expect. Do you think you will, Hector? Speak to me, do!" + +But Hector only gravely wagged his tail. + +"Oh, dear! I wish a great deal," said Arthur. + +Just then there was a rustling noise at the door, and Arthur lay very +still and quiet as he saw that it was his mother who was coming in. He was +hidden on his sofa, so she did not see that he was there. + +Presently she took her work from the table, and sat down in a low chair by +the fire; and Arthur watched her as she sat there, and gazed at her sweet, +gentle face. + +He could not understand all that was there; but he could see enough to +make him very sorry that he had said "Mother doesn't care much." + +There was such a look of patient sweetness there, and the eyes that she +now and then lifted up were deep with an expression of pain, only over it +all peace was shedding a softness and beauty that he could feel. He +watched her for a long time in silence, until at last a look of intense +pain seemed to furrow her brow, and suddenly she buried her face in her +hands, and he could just hear her say, "My darling, my darling!" + +Arthur started up, and as she heard the sound she looked over to where +he was. + +"My dear little Arthur, I did not know any one was in the room." + +"Mamma, I did not mean to hide--to look--I mean, to listen. I forgot I +ought to have said I was here. Mother, may I say what I was thinking +before you came in?" + +"Yes, darling. I always like to hear your thoughts." + +"I was just thinking that you didn't seem to care so very much." + +"What about?" asked his mother. + +"Oh, about all those dreadful things--about dear little Mildred having +died, and about my being left all by myself." + +It was not just directly that Mrs. Vivyan was able to answer, and then +she said: + +"When you are older, darling, you will find out that it is not always the +people who talk and cry most, who feel things most; and that there is such +a thing as saying 'Thy will be done,' and of not giving way to all our +feelings for the sake of others." + +"Ah, yes; that is what I ought to do," said Arthur with a deep sigh. + +"Arthur, dear," said Mrs. Vivyan presently, looking straight into the +fire, and closing her hands very tightly, "don't ever think I do not care +or feel. Oh, you never can know how much I have felt! You know nothing +about the hungry feeling in my heart when I think of my darling, darling +little baby, whom God is taking care of now; and how, when I see the +little bed she used to lie on, and her little frocks and shoes, I feel +something biting in my heart, and as if I _must_ have her in my arms +again. And about you, my own precious boy, God knows how I feel, as I +never could express to you; but I can tell Him, and I do." + +And Arthur's mother buried her face again in her hands, and burst into an +agony of weeping. He had never seen her cry like that before, and it was +something quite new to him to see his sweet, gentle mother so moved. He +hardly knew what to say to her; so he rose from his sofa, and coming close +up to her chair, he threw his arms with a fervent embrace around her, and +said softly: + +"Never mind, my own dear mother; I will try and bear it." + +And then Arthur cried too; for the bitterness of what it would be to bear +it came over him. + +"God will bless us both in it, my darling," said his mother; "and He will +take care of us while we are separated, and bring us back to each other +again some day, I trust. But Arthur, my own, am I leaving you in a loving +Saviour's arms? Are you there, folded in His everlasting arms?" + +"Mother," said Arthur in a faltering voice, "I do really believe in the +Lord Jesus Christ. I am nearly sure I do. But I don't feel happy. I don't +think much about Him, and it makes me feel frightened when I think about +dying." + +"But He says, 'Trust, and not be afraid,' and He says, 'I will never leave +thee nor forsake thee.' Oh, Arthur, I do leave you in His arms! for I am +sure you are there if you trust in Him; and perhaps He is taking me away +so that you may feel His arms, and that it is a very sweet thing to be +there, and to be loved and taken care of for ever. As I do," she added, +"in the midst of all my sorrows." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +LAST DAYS AT ASHTON GRANGE. + + +Mrs. Estcourt, Mr. Vivyan's only sister, was a widow lady living by +herself. Her home was in the neighbourhood of a large town, and here, in a +comfortable, moderately-sized house, she had lived for many years. She had +no children of her own, and when her husband had died she had seemed to +wish to avoid much intercourse with any one, so that Arthur knew very +little of his aunt. Once or twice he had seen her when she had paid very +short visits at Ashton Grange. He remembered a very sad-looking lady, with +a sweet face, who had held his hand as he stood by her chair, and that he +had half liked it, and felt half awkward as she spoke to him. He +remembered that as he had stood there, he had felt afraid to move or +fidget in the least bit, and that every now and then, as he had stolen a +glance at her, he had seen that her large dark eyes had been fixed upon +him. He had been very glad when the nursery dinner-bell rang and he was +obliged to go, without seeming to wish to run away. + +"Nurse," said Arthur that day at dinner, "there's a black lady down +stairs." + +"A black lady!" said nurse; "there's a way to speak of your aunt, Master +Arthur. Mrs. Estcourt is your papa's own sister." + +"Well, she looked all black, I know," said Arthur. "I think I won't go +down stairs much while she is there." + +Nurse remarked that if he were going to stay she hoped he would be quiet +and well-behaved; but as he had to keep all his quiet behaviour for the +drawing-room, it is to be feared nurse's temper was tried a little during +the few days that Mrs. Estcourt passed at Ashton Grange. Consequently +Arthur's memories of his aunt were not such as to make him very happy at +the prospect of living with her always. + +"Mother," said Arthur, on the evening of the day after he had heard about +these strange things that were going to happen, "is the aunt that I am +going to live with, that one that came here once?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Vivyan; "She is very kind, Arthur, and I know she will +love you very much, if----" + +"Yes, if I am good, I know," said Arthur; "and that's just the difference. +You know, mamma, you always love me, whatever I am." + +"Of course," said his mother, smiling; "but you could not expect any one +to love you in the way your mother does. You would not like her to be your +mother, would you?" + +"No, of course not. Now, mother, tell me something about what her place is +like, and where it is, and what sort of things I shall do when I am there. +I have loads of questions to ask, only I forget them now." + +"Well, begin then," said his mother; "perhaps one will remind you of +another." + +"First of all, then, what is the name of her place?" + +"Myrtle Hill, near Stanton." + +"Myrtle Hill! what a funny name. Is it at all like this, mother?" + +"No, dear, not much. I am afraid it is a much more orderly kind of place. +But I will try to describe it to you. It is a good many years since I was +there, and I did not notice things so very much. It is a white house with +myrtle trained over the lower parts, and a great many myrtle trees growing +in the avenue; that is why it is called Myrtle Hill. I know there is a +large garden with a good many shady places under the trees, that I +remember thinking would be delightful in the summer. There is a front +garden too." + +"That's nice," said Arthur. + +"Oh, but I don't expect your aunt will like little boys to have the run of +her garden!" + +"I daresay she will," said Arthur. "She is going to be very fond of me, +you know." + +"Well, that is question number one. Now, what is the second?" + +"Yes; where does she live?" + +"It is a good way from this; about six hours by the train, and five miles +from Stanton." + +"Oh, yes! and that reminds me of another question. How am I to learn? Will +she teach me? I hope not." + +"No," said Mrs. Vivyan; "we have thought you are old enough to go to +school now. There is a very good school between your aunt's house and the +town. It is about two miles from Myrtle Hill, and you would go there every +morning and come back early in the evening." + +"Ah, I like that very much," said Arthur joyfully; "that really is jolly, +mother. Who keeps the school?" + +"A very nice gentleman. Your father has known him for a long time." + +"He is tremendously strict, I suppose?" + +"Well, I daresay he likes to be obeyed," said Mrs. Vivyan; "but that is +quite right, isn't it?" + +"Yes, of course," Arthur answered. "What is his name, mother?" + +"Mr. Carey." + +"Well, I don't like that name," said Arthur emphatically; "but I suppose +he can't help that. Does he wear spectacles?" + +"No, I should think not," said Mrs. Vivyan, smiling; "he is not old +enough. I think he is not quite so old as your father." + +"I suppose he is rather young then. I am glad of that. I should never be +so much afraid of youngish people as of old ones." + +"Any more questions?" asked Mrs. Vivyan presently. "There is one question +you have not asked, Arthur, darling, that I was expecting, and it is the +one question that my heart is paining to have to answer." + +"What can it be, mother?" said Arthur wonderingly. "I think I have asked a +great many. What can it be?" + +And then he thought for a little while very earnestly. At length a +troubled look came into his eyes, and he looked at his mother, and said +softly-- + +"I know, mother, I know, and I am rather afraid to ask; but I must, for I +want to know. When am I going?" The question came out very slowly. + +"Arthur, my own darling little boy," said his mother, pressing her arm +very closely around him, and he could hear the quiver in her voice as she +spoke, "it is very soon. We did not tell you until just at the end, when +we were obliged to do it; because what was the use of making you unhappy +before we need?" + +"Well, when is it?" said Arthur. + +"It is the day after to-morrow." + +"Oh, mother, mother!" was all Arthur said; and he became very still +indeed. + +By and by he said, in a very troubled voice, "I wish I had known it +before." + +"Why, dear?" + +"Because then--oh, mother!" said Arthur, bursting into tears, "I would +have stayed with you all the day, and I would not have done anything you +don't like." + +And then the tears came into his mother's eyes, and she said tenderly-- + +"But I knew it, Arthur dear, and I kept you with me as much as I could. +And, my darling, you do not often do things I don't like." + +"Oh, yes I do, mother, very often!" said Arthur, sobbing still. + +"Well, dear, if you do, I know that with it all you really do love me." + +Arthur gave her hand a passionate squeeze, and said, "Indeed, indeed I do, +mother." + +And then Arthur said no more, but fell into a grave fit of musing. +Presently he roused himself, and said, "But, mamma, how can I go in two +days? Are there not things to be done? Mustn't I have a lot of new +clothes, and ever so many things?" + +"But, don't you see," said Mrs. Vivyan with a smile, half amused and half +sad, "I have known it for a long time, and I have been making arrangements +that my little boy knew nothing about." + +"Oh, well," said Arthur with a deep sigh. + +"Would you like to see some of the things that you are going to take away +with you?" asked his mother. + +"Yes, I think I should," said Arthur; but he spoke so hesitatingly; for +dearly as he liked preparations for a journey, he remembered with a bitter +pang what the preparations were for, and what the cause of the journey +was. + +Mrs. Vivyan opened the door of a small room adjoining her own, which was +generally kept locked, and where, Arthur knew, he was not expected to go +without being allowed. There was a large table near the window; it was +covered with various things; there was a leather writing-case, a new +paint-box, and a Polyglot Bible; there were several new books too, and a +very large pile of new clothes, but they did not take up much of Arthur's +attention. His quick eyes soon detected a fishing rod and cricket bat, +that stood in the corner of the room near by; indeed there seemed to be +nothing that his kind father and mother had not provided. He noticed +something else that was there, and that was a Russia-leather purse; and +when he took it to examine the inside he found that it was not empty--the +first thing he saw was a five pound note! + +"Oh, mamma!" said Arthur breathlessly; "who is all that money for?" + +"Who do you think?" she asked, smiling. + +"Well, I suppose for me," said Arthur; "but, mother, is all that really +for me? It will last until you come back." + +"Do you think so?" said Mrs. Vivyan. "Well, I hope you will use it well, +and show that you can be trusted with so much." + +"Is it to buy new clothes with, when I want any?" asked Arthur. + +"No; I don't think you could quite manage that," said his mother, +laughing; "besides, look at all the new clothes you have; don't you think +they will last until I come back?" + +"I don't know; I do use a great many clothes, certainly," said Arthur +thoughtfully, as he remembered various rents in more than one of his +little coats; "and boots, oh, yes, my boots must cost a great deal." + +The next day Arthur devoted to taking a farewell ramble through the +grounds; and in roaming through all the places in the country around, that +he knew so well. He visited every little hiding-place, to which he and his +companion had given names of their own, and then he sat down on the top of +a high mound near the house, where on one of his birthdays a flagstaff had +been planted. The gay-coloured flag was floating in the breeze now, and +Arthur wondered whether if any one else came to live at Ashton Grange they +would take down the flagstaff; "at any rate," he thought, "I will take +down the flag. I think it is nicer that it should be folded up while we +are all away. Oh, yes, and then it will be all ready to put up again, when +we all come back, if we ever do come back again to this place. Let me see, +I shall be almost a man then. Fancy me a man. I wonder what kind of a man +I shall be. Like papa, I daresay; and yet they say I am like mother. I +should think a man like mother would be very queer." + +And Arthur began painting fancy pictures of the time when his father's +term in India should be over; and though it was very pleasant to do it, +and the things that he intended to happen then, were very much to his +fancy, yet it was with a little sigh of regret that he said to himself, +"But any way, I shall never be mother's little boy any more." + +Then Arthur took out his new pocket knife and carved his name upon the +flagstaff. "How odd if anybody sees it while we are away," he thought; +"they will wonder whose name it is. Shall I put Arthur T. Vivyan? No, I +think not, that might be Thomas. I should not like any one to think my +name was Thomas." + +So, after an hour's diligent labour, the name appeared, "Arthur Trevor +Vivyan." + +And then he sat down to take a last long look at everything. It was late +in the afternoon, and the sun was shining with its soft spring gilding, +sparkling through the ivy, and making the shadows of the woods look +deeper. It was shining with a ruddy glow on the windows of the house, +every window that he knew so well. There was his mother's room. Arthur +always thought hers was the nicest window, and he used to be very glad +that the roses climbed up there, and clustered lovingly around it. There +was the little window on the landing over the hall door; where he +remembered, on more than one occasion, he had made nurse very angry, +by wishing to try if he could not climb out there, and plant himself on +the top of the porch, so as to look like a statue. Then there was the +drawing-room window, with the green Venetian blinds half drawn up, and +the bright colours appearing from inside. Lastly, he looked to the +nursery, where, oh, so often! he had watched for little Mildred's +white-robed figure to appear. How pleased she used to be, when he +stood where he was now! It was a sad, sad sever to Arthur's heart; only +everything seemed so dark and sad just now, that he had not thought much +about Mildred lately; but his eyes followed the sunlight on, far away, +until they rested on one fair green spot amongst the trees, where he knew +that a little green mound was covering his baby sister's form; and as all +the sad things that had happened so lately came into Arthur's mind, and he +thought of how different it had been a little while ago, he covered his +face with his hands, and the sobs came thick and fast. + +So that when after a little while he came indoors, and wandered into the +room where he expected to find his mother, she saw that his eyes were red +with crying, and she knew that his heart was as sad as her own. But she +said brightly, "Arthur, I want you to help me. See, here are piles of your +things, and I want you to help me to count them over, and to put down how +many there are of each; that is what we call an inventory, and you must +have an inventory, of course." Arthur was quite pleased with this idea, +and presently he was very busy helping his mother. When it was all done, +when the last little garment was laid neatly in the box, and the nice +presents that had been given to him were stored away underneath, and +Arthur's mother was resting in her armchair in the firelight, he drew his +stool to her feet, and laid his head lovingly on her lap; and his mother +felt the hot tears fall on her hands, and she saw that the brown curls +were trembling with his crying, and she knew that the same thought was in +his mind that had just been aching in hers--"For the last time!" + +But Arthur did not cry long, for he was trying hard not to make her more +unhappy than she was, and presently he stopped, and became very still, and +after a little while he said softly-- + +"Talk to me, mamma." + +"What shall I say, dear?" + +"Oh, you know, mother! you always know the right things to say." + +"And yet, Arthur," said his mother, after a very long pause, and speaking +in a soft, low voice, as if she was afraid to speak louder, "I do not know +what to say now, dear; for I never could say all that is in my heart. I +can only say it to God about you, my own child." + +"Do you often pray for me, mother? I don't think I ever miss praying for +you any day." + +"You are always in my heart, Arthur; and so when my heart rises to God, it +bears you with it." + +"How nice it is to have a mother," said Arthur in a restful voice, "even +although--" and then he stopped; for he thought it was better to say no +more. + +"After all, it is not so very, very far to India," said Arthur. "How long +would a telegram take getting there?" + +"About two or three hours." + +"Oh, dear, I wish I could be turned into a telegram!" sighed Arthur. + +"Oh, but," said Mrs. Vivyan, laughing, "that would be only doing one +little bit of good, and I want my Arthur to be of some use all the day +long." + +"How can I," asked Arthur, "without you?" + +"Do you know who you belong to before me?" said his mother. "You know, +Arthur, you have told me, and I believe it is true, that you have put your +trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, and that His blood has washed all your +sins away. Then, if that is true of you, you are your own no longer. You +belong to Him; for He has bought you with a price. Is it not sweet, my +darling, to feel that He says to you now, while you are being left at +home, 'Thou art mine'? You know I love to take care of you, because you +are mine; and don't you think He does much more? You know the Bible says +that a mother may forget, but God _never_." + +"Oh, mother, it is so nice to hear you talk," said Arthur. "Go on, +please." + +"Well, I was going to say, the Lord Jesus is always the best Friend; and +now that you are going to leave me, perhaps you will think of Him, and +look to Him, more than you have ever done before. Oh, Arthur, my child, +get to know Him better; talk to Him as you have talked to me; tell Him +about your little troubles, and joys, and sorrows; tell Him when you feel +lonely and weary, and sit at His feet, just as you are now sitting at +mine. Do you think He would turn you away? Just pour out your heart before +Him, whatever is in it, because He loves you as only He can love." + +"But, mamma, I can't see Him as I see you." + +"No, my child; but that is where faith comes in. You must believe when you +do not see; and remember that He said, 'Blessed are they that have not +seen, and yet have believed.'" + +"Mother, I think you were going to say something else," said Arthur, after +a little while. + +"Yes; I was talking about the first half of the text I had in my mind, and +that I give you to keep from me--'Whose I am, and whom I serve,' I want +you to know the sweetness of the first, my darling, and then I think you +will want the last to be true of you, and He will show you the way." + +"Yes, I know," said Arthur meditatively, "I ought to be patient, and +gentle, and thoughtful; and, you know, mamma, it is just my nature to be +the opposite, and I don't know how on earth I can be all that to that +aunt." + +"Oh, hush, dear! Of course you could not be expected to love her much at +first; but that ought not to make any difference; for it is to please the +Lord Jesus that you are to be all this, and the harder it is for you the +more He will know that you really do try to please Him. Then, are there +not other ways? I mean things that you could do to bring honour to Him. +Think of your being the means of bringing God's salvation to anybody, or +of making the heart of any of His people glad." + +"Yes," Arthur said, "and I think I could try. I could give away tracts, or +I could visit sick old women." + +"Yes, and you might speak for Him." + +"If He will help me," said Arthur reverently; "but that is a great deal +more difficult, mother." + +They did not talk much more that night, for it was getting late, and +Arthur sat looking at the lights and shadows in the burning coals. Out of +doors the fair spring evening had darkened into a gusty night; and the +wind was sighing in the trees, and blowing the rose-bushes against the +windows. It was very comfortable sitting there on the hearth-rug with his +head on his mother's lap. Arthur felt so very safe, and it seemed to him +that he could not be very unhappy, whatever happened to him, so long as he +could be there. And he did not dare think of what it would be, when miles +and miles of land and sea would stretch between him and this sweet, +well-known resting-place. He would enjoy it for this last time without +thinking of the dark, dreary to-morrow that was coming. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE PARTING. + + +It had to come at length. Arthur awoke that morning with a great, dreary +burden pressing on his heart, and a feeling of half horror, and half +unbelieving, that it could really be true. + +He hardly knew how he dressed, and he did not notice that the daylight had +not changed the dreariness of last night's weather; for a chill mist was +falling outside, and if he had looked for the fields and hills near he +would have found them all hidden in the damp fog. + +Mrs. Vivyan was waiting for him in the breakfast-room, and presently, as +she stood there, the door opened, and a very solemn-looking face appeared. +Arthur had been nerving himself for this time; he had been trying very +hard not to cry; and he had succeeded pretty well until now, although on +the way down stairs he had to bite his lips very hard as he felt the tears +in his eyes. But now, as he came into the warm, comfortable room, and +noticed everything there, it was no use trying to keep it in any longer. +His mother had provided that morning everything he liked best, he could +see that. + +"Come, dear," she said, "you must make a good breakfast to please me, you +know, Arthur." Her own face was very, very pale, and Arthur little knew +the intense effort it was to her to speak at all. So he sat down in his +own little chair, and was very still and silent for some moments; but +presently Mrs. Vivyan saw him moving his cup of coffee away, and when +there was a clear space before him he threw his arms on the table and +buried his head there. It was only just in time; for a very bitter cry +broke from his heart and his lips: "Oh, mamma, mamma, I can't go! Oh, do +stay with me! Don't you think you ought to stay?" + +What could she say? What could she do, but lift up her heart to her refuge +and strength? + +While she was doing this, Arthur's sobs gradually ceased, and presently he +said, in a little broken voice, "I did not mean to do it, mother; I did +try not." + +But he could not eat much breakfast, and after a little while he came +nearer to her side, and said, "Just let me stay until papa comes for me. I +don't want you to talk. I only want to stay here." For Mr. Vivyan had gone +into the town, not intending to come back until just before the time, when +he would come to fetch Arthur away to the new home, where his heart +certainly was not. + +So they did not speak at all during that hour; only Arthur sat with his +head pressed very closely on his mother's shoulder, and holding her hands +in both his, as if he would never loosen his hold. + +By and by there was a brisk step in the hall, and out of doors carriage +wheels could be heard on the road; and then Mrs. Vivyan lifted the curly +head, that was leaning on her shoulder. Arthur knew what it meant--the +bitterest moment that had ever come to him was now at hand--and it was +only a few minutes, before the good-bye would begin the five long years of +separation. + +Everything was ready, and he had only to put on his coat and comforter. He +was in a kind of maze, as he felt the warm coat put on him, and as his +mother's white hands tied the scarf round his neck. Then her arms were +pressed very closely around him, and as he lay there like a helpless +little baby, he could just hear her whispered farewell, "Good-bye, my own +child; may God take care of you." Then Arthur felt that his father's hand +was holding his, and that he was leading him away. Suddenly he remembered +something that he had forgotten. "Oh, father!" he said, "please stop a +moment; I must do something I forgot." This was a tiny white paper parcel, +which he had been keeping for this last moment, in a hidden corner +upstairs. Arthur ran up to the place, and bringing it down he put it in +his mother's hands, and said, "That's what I made for you, mother." + +She did not open it until he was gone; and perhaps it was well that Arthur +did not see the passion of tears that were shed over that little parcel. +It was only a piece of ivory carved in the shape of a horseshoe, or rather +there was an attempt at carving it in that shape; and on a slip of paper +was written, in Arthur's round hand, "For my own dear mother to wear while +I am away. This is to be made into a brooch." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MYRTLE HILL; OR, THE NEW HOME. + + +When Arthur Vivyan was looking forward, with such feelings of dread, he +did not know that his aunt was hardly less anxiously expecting his +arrival; and that, much as he feared what living with her would be, her +thoughts had been very troubled ones on the same subject. She had lived +alone for so many years now, and as she said, she was so little accustomed +to children, she was afraid that her young nephew would find her home +deary and sad; that she might not understand him herself, or that she +might be foolishly indulgent and blind to the faults, which might make him +grow useless and miserable. She had spent many anxious hours thinking of +all this, and laying plans about the care she would take of him, and all +the ways in which she would try to make him happy and contented. + +Arthur and his father had left Ashton by an afternoon train, which did not +bring them into the town, near Mrs. Estcourt's house, until it was quite +dark. It was a very cheerless journey to Arthur. Generally he liked +travelling by the railway, and when he took his seat by his father's side, +his spirits rose very high as they passed quickly along, and the new +scenes and sights, that he watched from the carriage window, occupied his +attention pretty fully. + +But this time it was quite different. His mother's sweet, sad farewell was +still sounding in his ears; and as the train rushed along on its way, he +knew that it was bearing him farther and farther away from her, and from +the home where he had lived so long. He could hardly have explained his +own feelings; only a very dreary aching was in his heart; and as he +thought of the strange new place, where he was going, and then of the +miles and miles of land and sea, that would soon lie between himself and +his father and mother, he felt very strange and desolate, and you would +hardly have recognized the grave, serious-looking face as Arthur Vivyan's. + +Perhaps it was that expression that drew the attention of an old +gentleman, who was sitting opposite to him. At any other time, Arthur +would have been inclined to be amused at this old gentleman; for he came +into the carriage, bringing so many parcels and wraps, that for some +little time he was stowing them away, talking all the while to nobody in +particular, and finishing every sentence with "Eh?" + +"Going to school, my boy--eh?" he asked at length, after he had looked at +Arthur's mournful face for some little time. + +Arthur did not feel much inclined to talk just then, so he only said "No;" +and then remembering that, in fact, he was to go to school while he was +living at his aunt's, he was obliged to say, "At least, yes." + +"'No' and 'yes' both; not quite sure--eh?" asked the old gentleman. + +Then Mr. Vivyan turned round, and explained that his son was going to live +with his aunt, and that he would go to school from her house. + +"Oh, that's it--eh? Fine times for you then, young man. When I was a boy +things were different with me, I can tell you. Hundred boys where I was; +and I was one of the little fellows, who had to make it easy for the big +ones. Up at six in the morning--coldest winter mornings. Never had a +chance of getting near the fire; never went home for the winter holidays. +How would you like that--eh?" + +"I don't suppose I should like it at all," said Arthur. But he thought in +his own mind, that his case was not much better. + +After a few more remarks from his old friend opposite, when he saw him +pull his cap over his face and settle himself to sleep, he was more +pleased than otherwise. + +Poor little Arthur! He thought he was feeling desolate enough; and as he +sat by his father's side, and thought that even he would soon be far away, +it made him feel inclined to cling more closely to him than he had ever +done before; so that, when the jolting of the train made his head knock +against his father's shoulder, he let it stay there, and presently he +found his father's strong arm was around him, and Arthur felt that he +loved him more than he had ever done before. + +"Cheer up, Arthur, my boy," he heard him say presently, and his voice had +a softer sound, than it sometimes had, he thought. "We may all be very +happy yet some day together, and not very long, you know. Five years soon +pass, you know, Arthur." + +But five years had a very long, dreary sound to him just then. In fact, he +could not bear to think of it at all; and he was afraid that if he thought +or spoke on the subject, that he should cry, which he did not wish to do +just then; so he gave a very deep, long sigh. + +By and by he went to sleep. Perhaps it was because he had spent several +waking hours the night before, and that this day had been a dinnerless one +for him; but so it was, and when he awoke it was to a scene of confusion +and bustle, for they had arrived at their journey's end, and the guard was +calling aloud, "Oldbridge." + +Arthur rubbed his sleepy eyes, as the station lights flashed brightly, and +the train came to a sudden stop. "Come, Arthur, my boy, here we are. Make +haste and open your eyes. We have a drive before us, so you will have time +to wake up on the way to your aunt's," said Mr. Vivyan, as they threaded +their way along the crowded platform. + +It was a very dark night; there was no moon, and thick clouds shut out the +starlight. Oldbridge station stood at the extreme end of the town, and in +order to reach Myrtle Hill, they must drive along a country road of two +or three miles. In summer time this was a very pleasant way, for the trees +sheltered it on one side, while the other was bordered with a hedgerow and +wide-spreading fields; but now on this dark night, nothing of all this was +seen, and Arthur wondered what kind of a place they were passing through. +When he had made little pictures in his mind of their arrival at +Oldbridge, they had not been at all what the reality was. He had imagined +a drive through a busy town, where they would pass through street after +street, and that the bright gas would light the way, and show him the +place and the things that they passed. + +"What kind of a place are we in, father?" asked Arthur. "There seem to be +no houses--I hope the man knows the way--and they have no light at all." + +"Well, I think certainly a little light would be desirable; but the people +here don't seem to think so. Well, never mind, we shall have light enough +by and by. It will be pleasant to see aunt's snug, warm house, won't it, +Arthur?" + +"Yes," said Arthur; but his answer was a very faint one; for he thought of +another warm, bright home that he knew very well; and that there was some +one there, sitting in the old chair, and that the rug at her feet was +empty, and he had to smother a bitter sob that arose, and hold himself +very still, as a shivering feeling passed over him. + +But presently Arthur's quick eye caught a bright gleam, shining through +the darkness, and soon he found that it was a lamp over a gateway, and +that they were nearing their destination. The lamp showed just enough for +him to see, that inside the gateway a broad gravel walk led up to the +house between thick laurel bushes; and soon the sound of the wheels +grating over the gravel, told him that they were driving up the avenue, +and would soon be there. His father began to collect their rugs and +packages, and seemed to be very contented that they had arrived. As for +Arthur himself he hardly knew what he felt; not particularly glad, +certainly; for there was far too dreary and heavy a feeling at his heart +just then, to leave room for much gladness; still, he was very tired and +cold, and perhaps even hungry, so that it was with some feeling of +satisfaction that he felt the carriage stop, and looking out he saw the +warm firelight from within, dancing on the curtained windows, and shining +through the windows in the hall. + +It was not very long before they were standing inside the hall door; and +Arthur had just one minute to look about him while his father was taking +off his great coat. Any one who took notice of things could see that no +children belonged to Myrtle Hill. Everything was in the most perfect +order. The hair mats were white and unruffled, the chairs were placed in +an orderly manner against the wall, and no dust lay upon them. Just as +Arthur was looking round with an admiring eye, one of the doors opened; +and a lady appeared, that he knew was his aunt. It was almost like a new +introduction to him, for he had not seen her for a very long time, and +then only for a day or two. She greeted her brother very warmly, and then +she turned to him. "And so this is Arthur," she said; and it was almost +timidly that she spoke, for she was almost as much afraid of her little +nephew, as he was of her. "Ronald, he is a great deal more like Louisa +than you. His eyes are like hers." + +"Yes, I believe he is generally considered to be so," said Mr. Vivyan, +smiling. "A great compliment; don't you think so yourself, Arthur?" + +Arthur always had a very peculiar feeling when people looked at him, and +said who he was like. He did not very much approve of it on the whole; and +once he had confidentially asked his mother why the ladies and gentlemen +who came to Ashton Grange did not make remarks about her face, and say who +they thought she was like. At present he was making use of his blue eyes +in taking an accurate account of his aunt. + +Well, she was nice. Yes, he thought he should love her. She had a sweet +sound in her voice, and a gentle expression about her mouth, that made him +think she could not be unkind. She was not like his own mother in the +least; she was not nearly so pretty, Arthur thought. His mother had pink +on her cheeks, and a smile on her lips; but _her_ face was very pale and +colourless, her eyes were very deep and sad ones, and when she looked at +him they seemed so large and dark, and as if they were saying what she did +not speak with her lips. He felt he would love his aunt; but he was not +quite sure that he would not be a little afraid of her, at first at any +rate. + +"You must be quite ready for something to eat," said Mrs. Estcourt, as she +led the way to the drawing-room. "You dined before you came away, Ronald, +of course." + +"Yes, I did; but Arthur did not. I don't think he has had much to eat all +day, poor boy." + +Mrs. Estcourt looked very much surprised as she said, "Why, how could that +be, Arthur? I thought boys were always hungry." + +"Well, I think I am generally," said Arthur, "only I was not to-day." + +"Why not?" said his aunt. + +"Don't ask me why, please," said Arthur in a low voice, "or else perhaps I +might cry, and I don't want to do that." + +She seemed to understand him, for she asked no more questions; only she +took his hand as they went into the drawing-room, and as Arthur looked in +her face, he thought there was something in her deep eyes, that reminded +him of his mother. + +If the hall at Myrtle Hill was neat and orderly, the drawing-room surely +was equally so. There seemed to be everything in the room, that one could +possibly want; and a great many that seemed to Arthur to be of no +particular use. He could not help thinking of the difference there would +be in that room, if he and Hector were to have a round in it. But it was +very bright and comfortable, he thought; and this opinion seemed to be +shared by a large white dog that lay in front of the fire. "Great, sleepy +thing," thought Arthur; "I would not give old Hector for ten cats like +that." + +The tea-table itself was a very attractive object to his eyes just then; +and he turned his attention to it now. Arthur thought it looked rather in +keeping with the rest of the room. The silver teapot and cream-jug were +bright and shining, but they were rather small; and he could not help +thinking that it would take a great many of those daintily-cut slices of +bread and butter, to satisfy his appetite; so he was glad to see a +good-sized loaf on a table near, and other more substantial things which +had been added for the travellers. Indeed he need not have been afraid of +not having enough to eat, for his aunt, in her ignorance of boyish +appetites, would not have been surprised, if he had consumed all that was +before him. So that Arthur had to be quite distressed, that he could not +please her by eating everything. + +"I wonder what she lives on herself," he thought, as he noticed the one +tiny slice lying almost undiminished on her plate; "and I wonder how I +should feel if I did not eat more than that." + +By and by they drew their chairs to the fire, and Mrs. Estcourt gave +Arthur a beautifully-ornamented hand-screen to shade the heat from his +face; as he sat with his feet on the fender, listening to his father's and +aunt's conversation. + +"Well, you have a snug little place here," said Mr. Vivyan. + +"Yes, I suppose so," Mrs. Estcourt said; but she sighed as she spoke. + +"It seems like old times, eh, Daisy?" + +A light shone on her face for a minute and then was gone, as she said, +"'Tis very odd to hear any one call me that, Ronald. I have not heard it +since----," and then that deep look of pain came again. But as she looked +at Arthur almost a merry smile curled the corners of her mouth, and she +said, "Arthur thinks so too, I know." + +This was true; for he had just been thinking that if his aunt was like a +flower at all, she was more like a lily or a snowdrop, or a very white +violet. But he only said, "Is that what I shall have to call you, then? +Aunt Daisy! that sounds rather funny, I think." + +Mrs. Estcourt laughed and said, "Well, I think perhaps it does; so if you +like you can say Aunt Margaret." + +"Oh, I don't like that at all!" said Arthur in a very decided tone. "No, +please; I would rather say the other; and I think perhaps you are like a +daisy when you can't see the red." + +"Well, you are a funny little boy," Mrs. Estcourt said; and she laughed +quite merrily. + +"Arthur," said his father, "you are forgetting your good manners, I am +afraid;" but he seemed rather amused himself. + +"Do you often say those funny things, Arthur?" asked his aunt. + +"I believe he is rather given to speaking his mind freely," said Mr. +Vivyan. + +"Did I say anything rude?" asked Arthur, looking up earnestly into his +aunt's face. + +"No, dear, nothing at all; only, you know, I am not accustomed to little +boys; and so perhaps that is why the things they say sound odd to me." + +"Well, aunt," said Arthur, "mind, if I seem to say rude things I don't +mean them; I don't really; and I should be very sorry to say rude things +to you, because I think I like you." + +"You don't say so," said Mr. Vivyan, laughing. + +But Mrs. Estcourt did not laugh; she stooped down and kissed Arthur; and +then she held his hand in hers for a little while, so that it almost felt +to him as if it was some one else's hand, and, though it was very pleasant +to have such a kind aunt, that he felt he would love, it brought a +strange, choking feeling into his throat, and his eyes felt as if they +would like to cry; so he suddenly jumped up, and said-- + +"I think I should like to go to bed." + +Mrs. Estcourt took him up herself into the room that was to be his own. It +was a pretty, pleasant room, and a bright fire was burning in the grate. +There seemed to have been a great deal of thought, spent on the comfort of +the person who was to sleep there; and Arthur almost smiled, if he could +have smiled at anything then, as his aunt hoped he would not want +anything, and said she would send him a night-light presently. + +"No, thank you," he said; "I always sleep in the dark." + +"You are a brave boy, I suppose," said Mrs. Estcourt. + +"I don't know," Arthur said; "but mother always says it is wrong to be +afraid." + +"Wrong?" asked his aunt. + +"Yes; because don't you know, aunt, we ought to trust in God, mother +says." + +"Then are you never afraid, dear Arthur?" his aunt was just going to say; +but as she looked at him she saw that his lips were trembling, and that +the tears were filling his eyes; for the mention of his mother's name was +bringing memories to Arthur, and he was thinking of the times in the old +nursery at Ashton Grange, when he used to be frightened sometimes in the +dark; and she had sat with him then, and told him about the angels of the +Lord encamping round about them that fear Him, and about the kind, tender +Lord Jesus, who takes care of all who put their trust in Him. + +So she only put her arms around him, and kissed him very tenderly; and +then she went away. It was only just in time; for as Arthur heard the door +shut behind her, and knew that nobody would see or hear him, the tears +that had been burning under his eyes all the evening came at last, and +Arthur threw himself sobbing upon his bed. But his grief did not last long +that night, for he was very tired and sleepy. He was excited too with the +strange scenes and places, through which he had passed, and on which he +was just entering; so it was not very long before he was sleeping as +soundly in the white curtained bed, that his aunt had taken such pains to +prepare for him, as he had ever done in the old room at Ashton Grange. +That room was empty now. The little bed was there with the coverlet +undisturbed, but no curly head lay on the pillow; and as Arthur's mother +stood there thinking of her little boy, and of the miles that lay between +them, and that soon the broad ocean sweep would separate her from her +child, her heart sank very low, and she thought that she was like Rachael, +weeping for her children. But she was comforted, for she knew the comfort +of having a Friend, who had borne her griefs and carried her sorrows; and +when her heart was overwhelmed within her she said, "Lead me to the Rock +that is higher than I;" and He said to her, "None of them that trust in +Him shall be desolate." She listened to His word that says, "Trust in Him +at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before Him. God is a refuge +for us." + +Is it not a happy thing, when a heart is full and bursting--so full that +it cannot contain--to know that there is One, whose name is Love, before +whom that heart can be poured out? Is it not the place where the Master +would have His disciples, sitting at His feet, hearing His word? And is +not that the cure for being careful and troubled about many things? And if +our hearts have chosen that good part, we know that He has promised that +it shall not be taken away. And as Arthur's mother thought of this, she +said, "Hide me under the shadow of thy wings." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +LEFT ALONE. + + +Arthur had been very tired the night before; so that the spring sun was +shining quite brightly, when he found himself lying awake in his new room. +Indeed, he did not know whether he would have awaked even then, if he had +not heard a knocking at his door, and then a voice saying-- + +"If you please shall I light your fire?" + +"No, thank you," said Arthur; and then to himself he added, "I'm not quite +such a muff as that!" Then he began to examine his room. "I wonder is this +going to be my room always!" thought Arthur. "'Tis much nicer than my room +at home, only I don't like it half so well; indeed, I don't." + +It was a very pretty room certainly. The paper on the wall was bright and +soft-looking, with a pattern of bunches of spring flowers, tied with +silver ribbon. The carpet was something of the same sort, and it reminded +him of primroses hidden in the grass. The window-curtains were spotlessly +white, with green cords, and the chair-coverings were a soft green. + +"Yes; it certainly is a very nice room," said Arthur to himself, after +looking round and examining everything; "but I think it is a great deal +more like a girl's room than a boy's. What can she think I want with such +a lot of looking-glasses? And I suppose she thinks I like reading and +writing very much;" for he saw that the book-shelves were well filled, +and that in the corner of the room there was a small table, where a +writing-case and inkstand stood. "Well, she may think so. I expect she +will soon find out her mistake." + +Arthur was more cheerful this morning, than he had been the evening +before. It was natural to him to feel hopeful in the morning. He liked the +feeling of awaking in a strange place. At least he had always liked it +hitherto; though with the pleasant feeling of excitement and interest it +brought, there came a dreamy heart-sinking too; for he could not forget, +that this was to be no visit, but that he was to live on here for years +and years without his mother. + +But the sun was shining very brightly into his room, and as he stood +waiting for some call downstairs; he thought he would like to see what +kind of surroundings belonged to his new home. + +Very different was the view he now saw from the country that lay around +Ashton Grange. From the highest window there, the view extended over only +a few miles, and the green wooded hills that arose, not so very far off, +marked the horizon to the pretty country scene that Arthur knew so well; +but here a wide stretch of country lay beneath him, undulating here and +there, but spreading far on, covered with fields and trees, and dotted +with hamlets, until it faded away into grey distance. The sun had risen +not long before, and the rosy beams were falling on the country, lighting +with a ruddy radiance the windows of the cottages, and sparkling on the +little river that was winding peacefully through the pasture land. It was +a very sweet scene, and Arthur felt its beauty. He could not see the town, +where they arrived the night before; for a stretch of woodland near by +shut it out from his sight. + +Having looked at the distant hills, he now turned his attention to the +objects nearer home. How very neatly the gravel walks were rolled. The +grass was smooth and evenly cut; not even the little daisies were allowed +to peep their modest heads from the lawn. "Well, I wonder aunt cuts off +all the heads of her namesakes," said Arthur to himself. His window was at +the side of the house, and he could see that the garden surrounded it on +all sides, and that the low trees that led down to the arbour gave their +name to Myrtle Hill. It was early spring-time yet, and not very many +flowers were blooming; only here and there bright-coloured tufts of +crocuses and primroses were shining on the brown earth, and the snowdrops +were shaking their bended heads, in the morning breeze. Arthur looked at +it all, and wondered whether he should ever be as familiar with this +place, as he was with the home far away. This thought led him into a +reverie, and he began to wonder what every one was doing at this time +there--who was feeding Hector; and would the gardener's boy remember to +water the seeds; though he remembered with a deep sigh that it did not +matter very much, as long before they would be in bloom, Ashton Grange +would be empty and deserted; and this thought was a very dreary one. +Arthur was beginning to feel very dismal again. The changing spring sky, +too, had become overclouded; the morning sun was hidden, and it seemed as +if a shower was going to fall. There was a prospect of a shower indoors, +too; for Arthur dashed the tear-drops from his eyes, and said, "I won't +cry; no, I won't; I'm always crying now. I wonder how mother can keep from +it so well. Well, perhaps when I am as old as she is I shall be able; or, +perhaps I shall be like papa, and not want to cry. I wonder if he does +ever; it would be queer to see father cry. Perhaps he did when he was in +India by himself." + +And Arthur almost laughed to himself at the idea. Presently a bell +sounded through the house. "I suppose," thought Arthur, "that is the +breakfast-bell; it ought to be by this time. But then, suppose it should +not be; suppose it should be some bell that I have nothing to do with; it +would not be at all pleasant to go down. I think I will wait for a little, +and see; but then, if it should be the breakfast-bell, aunt will think I +am a lazy thing. So what shall I do? I will go." + +And so saying, Arthur opened his door in a determined manner, walking +along the corridor; where some canaries were hung in a cage, making his +ears quite aware of their presence. Notwithstanding the courage with which +he had left his room, it was with a cautious step he came near the +dining-room, and opening the door very gently he was quite relieved to see +that his father and his aunt were both there. + +As he came into the room Mrs. Estcourt was talking to his father, and she +seemed in rather an anxious state of mind, as he listened to her with an +amused expression on his face. "You know, Ronald, you--you really must +begin breakfast, the carriage will be coming round in no time. And you are +not nearly ready, dear Arthur," she said, giving him a hurried kiss. +"Where are the railway rugs and the shawls? Your father will want them; +for it is a cold morning." + +"Now, my dear sister," said Arthur's father, putting his hand on her +shoulder, "don't be putting yourself into a fuss about nothing; I always +take my time, and I think I generally manage to come in all right in the +end. I want some breakfast, please, when you are ready, Daisy. Good +morning, my darling little boy," and Mr. Vivyan put his arm very tightly +round Arthur's neck, and gave him such a kiss, as he had never remembered +having had from him before. "Now, don't cry, Arthur," he said; for this +loving embrace from his father was bringing the tears into his eyes again. +"Do you know what I was thinking about, when I was looking out of my +window this morning? I was thinking of you; and I came to the conclusion +that you ought to think yourself very well off. Here you are with an aunt +who is going to make ever so much of you, I can see; going to live in a +most beautiful country, with a school near, where, of course, the boys +will be pleasant companions if you are pleasant to them; a half-holiday +every Saturday; a father and mother gone away for a little while, thinking +of you all the day; and a letter from India--I won't say how often. Ah, it +was very different when you and I were young! Eh, Daisy?" + +"No. I think I was very happy then," said Mrs. Estcourt. "I am sure our +grandfather and grandmother were just as good as any one could be." + +"Yes; for you, my dear, I daresay they were; but I was not you, you know. +Well, I'm very glad some times have not to come over again. I suppose +Arthur is feeling that just now." + +Mr. Vivyan himself seemed very well contented with his present position, +and Arthur thought so. + +"Father," he said presently, "as I have to stay in England, of course I +would rather be with Aunt Daisy than with any one else, and I think this +is a very pretty place indeed. But you don't know how frightfully I wish I +was going to India with you. Don't you wish you could take me, father?" +asked Arthur a little wistfully. + +"My dear little boy, I wish it so much, that it is one of the things it +is better not to think about. And then, you know, you must always look on +the bright side of things, and there are plenty of bright sides for you. +Just think of all the bright sides I have been showing you. Now, let us +have some breakfast, or really, auntie, I shall be late." + +But before Mrs. Estcourt moved, she said in a very low voice, and as if +she did not think any one else heard her-- + +"There is not always a bright side to look at." For she was thinking that +all the brightness had been taken away from her life's story. Would not +Arthur's mother have said, "If there is none anywhere else, look to where +the Lord Jesus waits to bless you, saying, 'Your heart shall rejoice;' and +then the light of His love would make the shadiest life shine with a +summer gleaming?" + +Arthur's appetite seemed really gone this morning, and his aunt's +attention was too much occupied with anxiety about his father's comfort +for the journey, to notice that he was eating hardly anything; and in the +midst of his trouble the thought came across Arthur's mind that it was a +very good thing he was not hungry, as he felt a great deal too shy to help +himself. + +Presently there was the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel outside. +"Now," said Mrs. Estcourt, starting up, "there is the carriage, Ronald; I +knew it would be here before you were ready." + +"Well," said Mr. Vivyan quietly, "you know one of us would have to be +ready first, and I would rather the carriage waited for me than I for it. +Besides, I am quite ready. Now, my dear sister, expend your energies in +seeing if my luggage is all right." + +Then Arthur and his father were left alone. + +"Now, my darling boy," Mr. Vivyan said, "come here. I want to speak to +you, and to say good-bye." + +So Arthur came closer to his chair, and his father put his arms around +him, and took his hand in his. + +"Arthur," he said, "perhaps you don't know how much I love you, and how +deeply anxious I am about you, that you should grow up to be a man that +your mother need not be ashamed of. You know, Arthur, I cannot talk to you +as she does; but I pray for you every day, and now especially that I am +leaving you. But we shall have another home on earth some day, I trust; +and, better than that, you know about the home where the Lord Jesus is +waiting for those who are washed in His blood. You are going to that home, +my precious boy?" + +"Yes, father," said Arthur in a low voice. + +"Well, then, you know you always have that to think about; and now I will +give you this text to keep from me while I am away, 'Goodness and mercy +shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of +the Lord for ever.' And won't it be nice to get a letter from India!" + +"Yes, oh yes, father," said Arthur, bursting into a flood of tears; "but +it would be so much nicer to be going." + +"Hush, hush," said Mr. Vivyan kindly; "you know there are some things that +God has forbidden, and it is wrong to think of how nice they would be. I +suppose you cannot think of how pleasant a great many things you have are +just now, but by and by you will find it out." + +This was just what Arthur was thinking. It was very strange to him to hear +his father talking in this way to him; he had never done so before; and it +made him love him as he did not know he ever could. It was quite true that +everything was looking black and gloomy, and that to try and see +brightness in his life at Myrtle Hill seemed to make the dreary feeling +more intense at his heart. But still he could lie down at the feet of the +Master who is so kind, and rest there while earthly things were so dark, +and trust Him, waiting while the violence of the storm was passing. Arthur +had answered the Shepherd's call--"Follow thou me," and the one who has +said that "He gathers the lambs in His arms, and carries them in His +bosom." + +"And now, my boy," said Mr. Vivyan, "God bless you and keep you; good-bye, +my own dear little boy." Then he put his arm around Arthur's neck, and +kissed him. A minute after, Arthur was standing by himself before the +drawing-room fire; and when presently he heard the carriage roll away, and +the sounds became gradually fainter and fainter in the distance, he felt +that he was all alone. + +Indeed, he hardy knew what he felt. There seemed to be a sudden quiet hush +within him, and as he looked outside the window where the carriage had +just stood, and the bustle of going away had just ceased, the quiet of +every thing seemed very still and deep. Only the little birds were just +the same, singing gaily as if nothing had happened, and the morning breeze +was brushing the myrtle trees as they did every spring morning when the +sun was making the country look glad. + +Presently he heard steps outside the door, and as they came nearer and +nearer, Arthur felt as if he would like to run away; for he was afraid his +aunt might talk about his father and mother, and he felt as if he could +not talk of anything just then. But he need not have been afraid, Mrs. +Estcourt was wiser than that, and she only said kindly-- + +"Would you like to go out and look about you a little, Arthur dear? It +will not rain just yet, I think; and you may go where you like; at least, +that is, if you are accustomed to go by yourself." + +"I should think I am, indeed," said Arthur; "why I have done that ever +since I was eight." + +"You won't lose your way?" asked his aunt anxiously. + +"If I do, I shall have to find it again, you know, aunt," said Arthur. + +"You are a funny little fellow," said Mrs. Estcourt. "Well, if you get +hungry before luncheon-time, you must come and tell me." + +Arthur thought of Hector, and how pleasant it would be if his old friend +would come bounding in answer to his whistle; then he looked at the sleepy +white-haired creature lying on the hearth-rug. + +"Aunt Daisy," he said, "would you like me to take out that white fellow?" + +"What, dear?" said Mrs. Estcourt. "Oh, I don't know, Arthur; I think, +perhaps, not just yet; not until you are more accustomed to it." + +"Very well," said Arthur, as he went away; and he said to himself, "I +would quite as soon not." + +Arthur felt, as he stood outside the hall door, as if all the world was +before him, to choose where he would go. He thought he would first examine +the garden, which encircled the house on all sides. A gap in the myrtle +bushes led him down a narrow path into a large space, which the fruit +trees and vegetables showed was the kitchen garden. He walked round, and +noticed how neatly the beds were kept, and that the walks even here were +stripped of weeds. Two boys who were working there, rather older than +himself, eyed him curiously. Arthur wondered whether they knew who he was; +but he felt inclined to be where there was no one else just then. So he +left the garden, and passing out through the iron gate, he found himself +on the high road, turning to walk down in the direction which they had +come the night before. Presently a sign-post stood before him, one hand +pointing to Stratton, and the other to Harford. Arthur followed the last +name along a green, flowery lane, where the wild roses were mantling their +green, and here and there an early bud was making its appearance. He +walked on for some distance, until the high road was hidden by a bend in +the lane, and the green trees began to arch overhead; and on each side, +the road was bordered with grass and green, velvety moss; the birds were +warbling soft songs in the branches, and from the wood hard by the sweet +cooing of the pigeons could be heard. It was a very pleasant spot, so much +so, that when Arthur threw himself down on the grass to rest, he said with +a deep sigh, "Well, it might be worse; and Aunt Daisy is certainly very +kind." + +"Yes, it might be worse," he continued to himself; "and it is nice to +think of by and by, when they come back. Suppose they were dead!" He +shuddered at the thought. "I can quite fancy what mother will look like +when she sees me again. No; I don't believe I can, though. How will she +feel, and how shall I feel? I suppose very different from what I do now; +for I shall be really a man then. Oh, dear! I had better not think of that +time yet. I must try and think about all the things God gives. Father said +something like that. Father was very kind to me to-day. I did not know he +could be so kind." + +Arthur did not know then much about the true, deep, persistent tenderness +of a father's love; but we know that when God spoke a word that expresses +His heart to His people, He called Himself His children's Father. + +"Let me see!" continued Arthur. "Five years, and in every year three +hundred and sixty-five days. If I multiply three hundred and sixty-five by +five, I shall know how many days I have to wait, and then I could mark off +one every day; but, oh, dear! that makes a great, great many." + +So he sprang up from the grass, and walked briskly on the shady road, +where the sunlight was falling softly; for Arthur meant never to cry, +unless he could not possibly help it, and certainly not out of doors. He +wandered over a good distance--for it was pleasant exploring in the new +country--until he suddenly remembered his aunt at home, and that she would +be thinking he had lost his way. "And I must not begin by frightening +her," said Arthur to himself. + +Up till this time Arthur's first day had passed more brightly than he had +expected. It would be hard for him to be very unhappy on that spring day, +with everything rejoicing around him, and the free country breathing in +soft breezes. But it was different when he came in. The house seemed very +dark and gloomy after the cheerful sunlight, and it seemed to him as if +there was no sound of any sort indoors, except now and then a faint noise +from the servants' regions far away; for even the canary-birds were +silent, and the fat dog was sleeping its life away upon the hearth-rug. +Indeed, Arthur thought he could almost imagine, that the hairy creature +and the soft hearth-rug were one and the same. There seemed to be nothing +at all to do within doors, and he could not be out always. Besides, the +bright morning was fast changing, and grey, gloomy clouds were gathering +over the country. The myrtle trees were beginning to shake with a rainy +wind, and he could see that the fine weather was gone for that day. + +Altogether, Arthur felt very dismal as he stood at the drawing-room +window, near to where his aunt was sitting at her writing-table. + +"Have you had a nice walk?" she asked presently. + +"Yes, aunt," said Arthur, tapping very forcibly on the window. + +"And what did you see?" + +"Oh, nothing particular!" said Arthur. + +Mrs. Estcourt saw that she must try some other subject to talk about. + +"Have you anything you would like to do, dear, until dinner-time?" + +"No, I don't think so, aunt." + +"What do you generally do at home when you are not walking?" + +"I don't know, really aunt," Arthur answered. "I suppose I do lessons." + +"Oh, but I don't want you to begin lessons just yet. Well, then, what do +you do when it is neither lessons nor walking?" + +"Sometimes I go for messages, and sometimes I make things with my tools." + +"Make things! How do you mean, dear?" + +"Oh, I make boats and things! and I used to make wedges for a window in +mamma's room that rattled with the wind. Have you any windows that don't +shut quite tightly, aunt?" asked Arthur. "I could make you some by and by, +if you have." + +Mrs. Estcourt smiled; but she was not able to remember any window that +needed Arthur's arrangements. So he was left to himself and the rain +again; for the drops were falling thickly against the window now. At first +he employed himself in tracing their course down the glass, but very soon +he was tired of that, and presently Mrs. Estcourt heard a heavy sigh. + +"That was a very deep sigh," she said cheerily. "What did it mean?" + +"Well," said Arthur, "partly, I think, it meant that I wish I had +something to do." + +His aunt thought that boys were very curious things, and wondered what +they could do. She felt almost inclined to echo Arthur's sigh; but she +thought a moment, and then she said-- + +"Would you like to have a skein of wool to wind into a ball?" + +"Yes," said Arthur. He was quite glad to have even this to do. At home it +was not the occupation he generally chose; but now, as he stood with the +blue wool encircling two chairs, steadily unwinding it into a ball, it +seemed quite pleasant work. Mrs. Estcourt had quite made up her mind, that +the skein would be spoiled, and so when her little nephew brought it to +her, wound and unbroken, it was an agreeable surprise, and she began to +have a higher opinion of boys in general. + +The day seemed to wear very slowly on, and with the waning light Arthur's +heart seemed to sink very low. So quiet was he, that his aunt could hardly +understand him, and any one who had seen the boisterous, lively boy at +Ashton Grange, would hardly have known him as the same one who was sitting +so quietly before the drawing-room fire in the lamplight. He was sitting +there in dreamy fashion with a very sad, heavy heart, when his aunt asked +him what was his bedtime. A fortnight ago, if this question had been put +to Arthur, he would not have given the same answer that he did now. Then +he had considered it one of the greatest hardships of his life, that a +quarter before nine was the time when he was expected to disappear. But +now he said, "Oh, I don't much mind, aunt; I think I should like to go +now!" for the weary, lonely feeling was making his heart so sick, that he +wanted to be all alone for a while. + +"Well, good night, darling," said his aunt, and she put her arms very +tenderly round his neck; for she knew that his poor little heart must be +aching, and that his thoughts must be seeing things that were very far +away. + +She kissed him so lovingly that it was just too much for him. The tears +came into his eyes, and Arthur went sobbing up the stairs, not noticing +that he was holding the candle on one side, and that his way could be +traced along the carpet by large white spots. Somebody else noticed it the +next morning; and the housemaid thought that her mistress had done a very +foolish thing when she brought that young gentleman into her orderly +household. + +Arthur's little room looked very snug as he opened the door and went in. +The firelight was dancing on the white curtains and on all the pretty +things around. But Arthur did not see any of it for the blinding tears +that were in his eyes, and fast falling down. His whole heart was longing +with one deep aching to be back again at home, and all the more that he +had been trying all the evening to keep back the tears. It seemed as if he +would cry his heart out, as he lay on the rug, sobbing so bitterly all +alone. "Oh, mamma, mamma," he sobbed "come, come!" And this was all he +said, this was what he repeated again and again; and it was very dreary +that there was no answer--it seemed as if no one heard him. + +But One could hear him. Jesus wept when He was on the earth, and He does +not despise a child's first bitter grief. He knows what trouble is, and He +knows just how much each particular trouble is to each one; for He Himself +has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows. + +By and by Arthur remembered the text, "Come unto me, all ye that labour +and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." He knew that when the +Lord Jesus Christ said "all" that He meant all, so he lifted up his heart +to the One who alone can read hearts; and this is what he said, with the +sobs coming thick and fast--what he prayed; for real prayer is a heart +speaking to God, and calling to Him in need-- + +"Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, I do come to Thee! for I remember the text that +says 'Come,' and I don't know what to say except that Thou knowest, Lord +Jesus, how lonely and miserable I am. My mother is far away, and papa too, +and I do so want to feel her arms round me now; but I can't, oh, I can't! +Lord Jesus, if thou wert here on the earth, and in this room, I would come +to Thee, and sit at Thy feet; and Thou wouldst put Thine arms round me. +Oh, do it now, Lord Jesus! for I feel as if I must have somebody taking +care of me. The Bible says that Thou healest the broken-hearted, and I +feel broken-hearted to-night, Lord Jesus, so heal me. Lord Jesus Christ, I +belong to Thee, I am Thy lamb; gather me in Thine arms, and carry me in +Thy bosom." + +It was in this way that little, lonely Arthur Vivyan poured his heart out +before the Lord. He went and told Him exactly what was in it, and then he +lay at His feet; and he felt as he had not felt before, what it was to be +in His keeping, and to hear His voice saying, "Thou art mine," to feel the +everlasting arms enfolding him, and to know that One so strong, and kind, +and true, loved him with an everlasting love. The Lord Jesus Christ was a +real person to Arthur Vivyan. He had known Him before as his Saviour; he +was knowing Him now as the lover of his soul. + +And that night, as he lay in his white-curtained bed, he felt the sweet +rest that the Lord gives when "He giveth His beloved sleep." + +The stars shone in their melting blue depths, and their trembling light +fell on two who loved each other, and who were both loved by the blessed +God, who neither slumbers nor sleeps; and though such time and space were +separating them, they were both in His hand who "measures the water in the +hollow of His hand." + +Is it not a happy thing to belong to the Lord Jesus Christ? + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +EDGAR NORTH; OR, A HEART WITHOUT A RESTING-PLACE. + + +About two weeks after his arrival in his new home, when Arthur came down +one morning to breakfast, something in his aunt's face made him think of +pleasant things; so that his "Good morning, auntie," seemed rather like a +question. + +"I think you had better have breakfast," said Mrs. Estcourt, smiling, but +holding something in her hand towards him, at the same time. + +"A letter!" Arthur exclaimed, or rather shouted, as he seized the +envelope. "A letter for me! It could be only from one person. But, oh, +surely they are not in India yet! Mamma said they would be weeks and weeks +going." + +"They must have passed some vessel returning to England. You see what a +mother you have, to write to you the very first opportunity." + +"I should think I knew that, auntie. I don't believe there ever was, or +will be, any one like my mother in the whole world." Then he began to read +his mother's letter: + +"MY OWN CHILD,--For this is the sweetest name I can call you. You are my +own, my Arthur, my darling little child--just as much mine now, as when we +used to sit together by the fireside in the old home, and your head was on +my lap, and my arms were around you. And although miles and miles of deep +blue sea are lying between us, and the stars that look down on you in your +peaceful English home may see me here on the broad, wide ocean, you are +here safe in my heart, just the same as ever, and my watchful love, that +cannot take care of you as I once did, pours itself out in prayers to the +God who loves us both; for He is my Father and yours, Arthur. We are both +in His hands. He will take care of us now, as we walk on this changing +world, and He will take care of us for ever, in that land where there are +no partings, or sighs, or tears--where the blessed God will joy to bless +us for ever. + +"And now I must tell you something about ourselves, about your father and +me. For a little while after we started we had very rough weather; and as +the steamer tossed up and down, and rolled with great heaving swells on +the waves, I was glad that my little boy had a bed to lie on, that did not +heave from side to side. I was glad that the sounds he heard, were the +sweet summer winds rustling, and the birds that sang in the trees, instead +of the creaking and straining noises that I now hear, and that he was +safe, and comfortable, and well; instead of sighing out his poor little +heart with trouble; for sea-sickness is a reality, my little Arthur, as +you would soon find out, if, like me, you had spent some days on the sea, +when the winds had made the waves rough. + +"Now the water is calm, and all around us it lies blue and bright, and the +sun makes pleasant sparkles on it, which I look at now and again, as I sit +here on the deck; writing the letter that you will read, and think of me +on my way to the land where you were born. + +"I only came on deck yesterday; for, as I told you, the weather was so +rough, and I was so ill, that I had to stay all the time in my cabin. Your +father was as well as ever, indeed he said that he was never better in his +life; and as I lay there for several weary days, I could hear his voice, +now and then talking with the other passengers, and sometimes he would +come in and tell me where we were, and what was the state of the weather, +until at length he was able to tell me that the wind was going down, and +that probably we should have some bright, calm weather; and I was very +glad to think that I should be able to leave my dark cabin, and sit out +where the sun was shining, and where the sea was stretching beneath it, +until it met the spreading sky far away. + +"There are a great many ladies and gentlemen on board; some of them, as we +are doing, leaving their dear little children in English homes, and hoping +to see them again some day. Some of them have one or two of their +youngest children with them, and my only one is far away from me; but I +know that God is taking care of my darling child, and from my heart I can +say, 'Thy will be done;' for though I would have chosen another way, He +who chose for me, loves me so tenderly, that I can sit at His feet and +submit myself to what He has said. + +"And that is what I want you to do, my own dear child; that is what I pray +for you when my heart rises up to my Father's heart and says, 'God bless +my child.' I want you to remember that the Lord Jesus Christ is your Lord; +for you told me that you trust in Him, and that He is your hope, and so I +want you to remember that if you submit yourself to Him, you are owning +Him as Lord, whom the God of all the world has made Lord and Christ; and +so if you are meek and gentle, when something wrong tempts you to be +passionate and proud, if you are kind and helpful to others, when +selfishness tempts you to please yourself, you are acknowledging this +blessed Master as yours. Is not this a happy thought, my Arthur? and do +you not like to give pleasure to the One who loves you so, and who did for +you what can never be told? + +"And now, good-bye, my child. I need not give you your father's love, for +you have it already, and he joins his prayers for you with mine every day, +that our God will bless you and keep you; and He will; for 'He that +keepeth thee will not slumber.' + + "YOUR LOVING MOTHER." + +Great big tears were running down Arthur's face as he finished the letter; +but there was a bright look there too, as he folded it up with an air of +great content. "Auntie," he said, "would there be any use in my writing a +letter now? When would she get it?" + +"I think it would be a very good plan if you write now; your mother would +find the letter awaiting her in Madras. It would not take nearly so long +going as they do." + +"Poor mamma," said Arthur, "I don't believe the sea is good for her, after +all; you see how ill she is." + +"Oh, yes! but she would very soon get over that; and then, depend upon it, +the voyage will be very good indeed for her. Perhaps," said Mrs. Estcourt +softly, "that is the way with people in other things and ways." + +"I know what you mean, aunt," said Arthur suddenly, "and I expect you are +right." + +But his aunt heaved a very deep sigh, and said no more. + +Mrs. Estcourt was very glad to see her little nephew busily occupied, for +that day at least. For several days she had been trying to bring herself +to the point of telling Arthur, that she thought he had better attend Mr. +Carey's school; and day after day she had put it off, thinking it would +make him unhappy. + +Arthur's letter to his mother could not be called a very well written one; +there were several mistakes in the spelling, and here and there, a great +blot could tell that a good deal of his heart had gone into it; but +whatever it was, it was a loving little letter. + + +"MY OWN DEAR MOTHER,--Aunt says there is time for a letter to get to you; +so this is an answer to the one you sent me. I think it was a most +beautiful letter; and it was very odd that it made me cry. + +"I like Aunt Daisy very much; I like her much better than any other lady +in the world--except you, of course. + +"Myrtle Hill is much grander than the Grange. I do try to be careful about +the things, dear Mamma. Oh, mother! I do want to see you so very much +sometimes. I could never tell you how much; only I do not want you to +think I am unhappy. + +"Mamma, I thought of a text the second evening I came here that made me +not so unhappy. I did not think so much of how kind and good the Lord +Jesus was until I came here. Tell papa I give him my love. I have made a +lot of mistakes, and I could not help these blots. + + "Good-bye, my own dear mother. + + "Ever your loving + + "ARTHUR." + +"Now, Aunt Daisy, will you direct this, please?" asked Arthur. + +"Oh, but you are such a great boy! I think you had better do it yourself," +said his aunt. + +"Shall I? Can I? I never did before; but I daresay I could," Arthur said, +and he was half pleased and half afraid. + +"Will that do?" he asked, after a long time had been spent, very carefully +trying to write his best on the thin envelope. + +"Why, Arthur, you are getting out of practice with your writing, I should +think," said his aunt. And she thought this might lead on to her proposal, +about the school. + +"No; I don't write well, I know," said Arthur; "but I try; and I heard +some one once say, that it is not always the most stupid people who write +the worst." + +Mrs. Estcourt laughed. + +"No, my dear little boy, I did not say it was. But, dear Arthur, +seriously, I think you ought to write better, and I am afraid you will be +getting bad habits. Don't you think it would be a good thing for you to +begin school?" + +"What, the boys' school that mother told me about? Oh, I was hoping you +were going to say something about that! Shall I soon be able to go?" + +"Do you want to go?" asked his aunt, astonished. + +"Oh, yes! I should think so." + +"Then, my dear boy, you shall begin to-morrow, if you like. I have spoken +to Mr. Carey about your coming; so I can send over a note this evening to +let him know." + +The remainder of that day Arthur could scarcely think of anything else +than the prospect that was before him on the morrow--his first entering on +school-life. Many were the wonderings and conjectures that went on in his +mind, as to what kind of a person the master would be--whether he would +like the boys, if he would be strict and cross, and if the lessons would +be very difficult. But he was quite decided on one point, that he would +much rather be going to school every day, and have something to do, than +loiter away his time in the house and garden at home. + +So the next morning, after Arthur had finished his breakfast, it required +little persuasion from his aunt to make him start for Mr. Carey's school. +The house was about an hour's walk from Myrtle Hill, and it must be +confessed that on his way Arthur's heart began to fail him a little, when +he thought of encountering so many strange faces. Just as he approached +the house the clock struck nine; and as Arthur entered the large iron +gate, he caught sight of some thirty or forty boys rushing across the +play-ground, some tumbling over the others, to be in their seats by the +time the last stroke of the clock sounded. Arthur thought the best thing +he could do would be to follow them; so keeping in sight two or three boys +who had loitered after the others, he walked behind them, up a long +passage; till he reached a door leading into the school-room. He pushed it +open so quietly that he was not heard, and had time to take a good view of +the room and its occupants. It was large and spacious. All down one side +there was a long desk fixed against the wall, where numbers of boys were +sitting, engaged in writing or doing their sums. Then there were several +tables, round which the different classes were seated on forms. The walls +were hung with maps, and there were two large globes in a corner of the +room. All this Arthur took in, in a very short time; and his eyes quickly +travelled to the top of the room, where Mr. Carey was standing at his +desk. He was rather thin and tall, with a very grave face, which made +Arthur feel rather awed; but it was not a cross face. + +Presently he looked up, and saw Arthur standing at the door. He had +already been prepared for his appearance by a note from Mrs. Estcourt; so +he knew at once who he was. + +"So you have come, Vivyan," he said. "Step up here, my boy." + +Arthur advanced to the desk with rather a trembling step, and then had to +submit to a number of questions from Mr. Carey to test his knowledge; +after which he was put into one of the lower divisions of the school. It +was all new to him to-day; so the hours passed quickly away, and Arthur +was quite ready again for afternoon school when the time came. + +So the days went on--one very like the other--and things were seeming less +strange as Arthur was getting to know the boys better, and to feel more at +home with them. + +There was one boy in Mr. Carey's school who seemed different from all the +rest. His name was Edgar North, and he was about Arthur's own age. Some of +the boys said he was delicate, and others told Arthur that he was a muff. +Whatever it was, he seemed to stay outside the rest. He was very often in +disgrace; not for lessons badly done, although it might have been so, but +Mr. Carey was very indulgent to him, on account of his weakness, but for +rules broken through, for quarrels with the other boys, or disrespect to +the teachers. He did not seem happy; there was generally a cloud on his +brow, and a weariness and discontent in his manner. Arthur sometimes +wondered why. Might it be on account of his delicacy and his cough, that +very often he was obliged to stay at home, when the others joined in some +country expedition, and that sometimes, when the game was at its height of +interest, his quick, short breathing obliged him to leave off and sit down +away from the rest? It would be very trying, certainly; Arthur was quite +sure of that. He thought a good deal about Edgar North, and he could see +that the other boys did not like him; to tell the truth, Arthur did not +himself, but he was very sorry for him when he saw him sometimes all +alone, when the others were at play. One fine, sunny half-holiday, when +school had been closed for the day, and both boarders and day-scholars +were deep in the interest of cricket, Arthur had lingered behind the +others to put his books together in readiness for going home, and a +message from Mr. Carey to his aunt had detained him still longer, so that +by the time he reached the cricket-ground the game had begun. One of the +older boys called to him to make haste; but Arthur seemed in no haste, +and, unlike his usual way at this time, he seemed to be in deep +meditation. + +"Come, make haste," said his companion. "Why don't you come on?" + +But still Arthur stood; for something had made him pause. It was Edgar +North's listless figure, half sitting and half lying under a large tree in +a field a little distance off, with a very discontented, unhappy face. + +"I think I won't play to-day, I've got something else to do; I'm going for +a walk." + +"What on earth is that for?" said the older boy; "I thought you were wild +for this game to-day." + +He was not so very sorry, however; for Arthur was playing on the opposite +side, and he knew by experience, that his vigorous little arms made a +great difference sometimes. + +"Well, please yourself. What shall I say when the others ask about you?" + +"Say I have gone out for a walk." + +"All right," said the other, and he walked away. + +It was not without a very great struggle that Arthur had been able to say +this. It was not without more than one earnest prayer, that he had been +able to resist the strong temptation. He had been feeling very happy that +morning in thinking of his mother's text: "Whose I am." And his heart had +risen in gladness and thankfulness to the Lord who had bought him; and now +there was a golden opportunity before him of doing something to prove his +love, and of letting it be true of him "whom I serve." Edgar North was not +happy, and the others had left him all by himself. It must be very bitter +to him to see from a distance the wild enjoyment of their game, without +being able to take any part in it. Arthur knew how he would feel it +himself, and a thought came across his mind that he could make it less sad +for Edgar; that he could offer to go for a walk with him; and that this +kindness to another would be pleasing to his Master. But then glowing +thoughts of the game's enjoyments came across his mind; his hands and feet +were burning to run to the cricket-ground, and take part there, with all +the energy of his young spirits, while the picture of a solitary walk with +Edgar North came before his mind in very gloomy contrast. Then a voice +seemed to speak in his heart: "I love you, my own. I gave myself for you. +Follow me." + +The tears came into Arthur's eyes, and he looked up to where the blue was +covered with little white clouds, and the sun's light was shining; and his +heart whispered the words which only One could hear: "Lord Jesus, I will." + +Arthur had to go over some little distance, before he reached Edgar North. +He found him sitting on the soft grass, underneath a large tree. He +seemed to have been trying to carve his name; for a large E and half of an +N were there. But he was tired of that; and a book he had brought with him +seemed to have proved equally unsatisfying; for it was lying closed at his +feet. He seemed very much surprised at seeing Arthur; but all he said, +when he came near was: "Well?" Arthur did not quite know what to say +himself, but he asked him after a moment-- + +"Would you like to go for a walk?" + +"Not particularly," said Edgar, not very graciously. + +"Why, I thought you liked walking. I heard you saying so last week." + +"I liked it last week; but I couldn't have it then. People can't always +like the same things. I thought you liked cricket." + +"Oh, so I do! I should think I did just!" said Arthur emphatically; and he +could not help thinking of how much more he liked it, than talking to such +a disagreeable companion as Edgar was now. It needed another remembrance +of the voice in his heart. + +"Well, why don't you play then? the others are playing." + +"Why, I thought you might like to go for a walk." + +Edgar pulled bits of bark off the tree, and threw them on the ground. Then +he looked up in Arthur's face with a half laugh. "Well, you are queer. +Perhaps I should like a walk. Where shall we go?" he said, rising +suddenly. + +"I don't mind," Arthur said, "except that dusty old road." + +"The woods then," said Edgar, "and then we should be less likely to meet +that Carey. I hate having to speak to him." + +They walked on for some distance, without saying very much. Arthur found +conversation with his companion rather difficult to keep up; most of his +questions were answered by "yes" or "no;" and to anything that he said, +not requiring an answer, Edgar gave a short laugh. + +"There'll be lots of wild strawberries here soon," he said; "don't you +like them?" + +"Pretty well," said Edgar listlessly, "when I can't get others." + +Arthur was beginning to think he had better say nothing, when suddenly the +other boy turned to him, and said curiously-- + +"I suppose it was because you are converted that you came?" + +"Yes," Arthur answered. + +"How did you know I was?" he asked, after some little time, when they had +walked on in silence. + +"Why, I don't know; some of the others said things about you; and, +besides, you know you are." + +He would not say that he had noticed Arthur Vivyan's ways, and that he had +seen there, what showed him there was a difference between him and the +other boys; still less would he tell him just then, that there was an +aching wish in his heart that he could say the same for himself. + +"Yes," Arthur said, "I am, Edgar; and do you know I wish you were." + +"How do you know I am not?" + +"Well, I don't _know_," said Arthur; "but I don't much think you are. Are +you?" + +"No," said Edgar, pulling violently at the leaves that grew on the bushes +near. + +"Shouldn't you like to be?" + +"What is the use of liking?" asked Edgar North. "I shall be if it is God's +will, and I shan't if it is not." + +"Oh," said Arthur, "that is a dreadful way to talk. I'm quite sure it is +not the right way." + +"Well, I know I have thought a great deal about it, especially when I have +been ill, and it always makes me miserable, so I try not to think, and I +can't think what made me begin it now. Do let us talk about something +else." + +And suddenly Edgar became very much interested in the subject of the next +local examination, in which several of his schoolfellows expected to take +part, and was much more lively for the rest of the walk than he had been +before. + +But he did not seem to avoid Arthur; on the contrary, after that day, he +often seemed to try to be near him; and at length he surprised him very +much, by asking if he would come out for another walk. Arthur remembered +the last one that they had had, and he wondered why! it was not for any +pleasure to himself that he agreed, but at any rate this time it was not a +cricket-day. + +"You did not want to come, did you?" asked Edgar, after some little time, +when they had been walking along through the fields, and had now reached a +distant one, where the hawthorn hedge was throwing a sheltering shade. +"And I expect you would just as soon sit down, as walk on further. Shall +we stop here?" + +"What a queer fellow you are, Edgar," said Arthur; "I can't make you out +at all." + +"How am I queer?" asked Edgar. + +"Why, you _are_ queer; you are different from all the others. Perhaps it +is because you are not strong." + +"No, I know I am not," Edgar said; "the doctor at my grandmother's used to +say I should not live." + +Arthur looked very earnestly at Edgar's pale, passionless face. + +"Did he really? Are you sorry?" + +"Oh, I dare say he did not know! and if he did, I cannot help it; so what +is the use of being sorry or glad? Perhaps you may not, just as likely." + +"But," said Arthur, "if I had heard any one say that about me, I should +think more about it than you seem to do." + +"Why, it would be all right for you, because you are converted, you know." + +"But, Edgar," and Arthur looked very earnestly into his dark, sad eyes, +"don't you wish you were?" + +Edgar's eyes fell before his gaze. He looked away, and seemed to be +dreamily watching the glistening sunbeams, darting through the trees; but +presently the tears gathered, and he said, with a weary sigh, + +"Oh, Arthur, if you only knew how much I wish it! if you only knew what I +would give, to know I was converted!" + +"Didn't your mother ever talk to you about it?" asked Arthur, remembering +the sweet words that had fallen into his own heart; "or your father?" + +"I don't remember my mother," said Edgar, "and papa died two years ago; +but it was two years before that, when I saw him last." + +"Poor Edgar," said Arthur softly; for, though he did not say this had been +a bitter grief to him, there was something in his tone so hopelessly sad +and sorrowful, that the tears came into Arthur's eyes to hear it. + +Edgar saw the tears in Arthur's eyes, and a little faint smile came in his +own. "You are very different from the others, Arthur," he said. "I haven't +had any one kind to me, since papa went to India." + +"Did your father go to India?" Arthur asked brightly. "So did mine. So we +are alike, then." + +"Ah, but yours will come back some day, and your mother too; but mine will +never, never come back any more!" + +"Tell me about them," said Arthur. + +"Well, you know I told you mamma died ever so long ago, so I don't +remember her at all; but papa used to tell me how nice she was, and he +used to show me her picture." + +"What kind of a face had she?" asked Arthur. "I wonder whether she was +like my mother." + +"Well, she had very nice eyes, brown ones." + +"Mamma's eyes were blue, I think," said Arthur. + +"And brown hair; and she looked very kind." + +"Oh, then they are alike in one thing!" + +"Papa used to keep it in his pocket," Edgar continued, "and he used to +show it to me often when grandmamma was not in the room. I don't think she +liked it, because I remember once when we were looking at it she came into +the room, and papa put it back into his pocket directly." + +"Who used you to live with then?" + +"Oh, I have always lived at my grandmother's, only now she is dead. That's +who I am in mourning for," said Edgar, pointing to his black dress. "But +father used often to come and see us. It was his home too when he had +leave, other times he was with his regiment. Then, four years ago, they +were ordered to India, and he died of cholera, when he had been there two +years; and I never saw him since, four years ago." + +"Poor Edgar," said Arthur again. He knew enough of loneliness and sorrow +himself, to feel what a sad, empty life Edgar North's must be, without +anything in heaven or earth to make him glad. + +"Did you love your father very much?" asked Arthur presently. + +"Oh, Arthur, I did love him so!" said Edgar very sadly. "You see, I had no +one else. I remember it was so very nice, when grandmamma had the letter +to say he was coming; and he never let me have much lessons, when he was +at home." + +"Was it in the town you lived, or the country?" + +"It was near the town. We lived in rather a small house, that had a +garden. I suppose I shall never see it again. Well, I don't much mind." + +"Where shall you spend the holidays?" + +"At my uncle's in London; he has ever so many children, and I dare say +they will not want me." + +"I think that is so strange of you, Edgar," said Arthur. "You seem always +to think nobody wants you, and that makes you disagreeable, and then they +do not. Now, I don't see why they should not want you, as well as any one +else." + +"Well, I can't help thinking what is true," said Edgar. + +"Go on telling me about your father," said Arthur; "I like hearing of +him." + +"I don't think I have much to tell," said Edgar, "except that it was very +happy when he was at home; and, oh, so miserable ever since! And I think +he might have stayed." + +"That is what I thought about mamma. But I am quite sure they knew best; +indeed I'm certain, Edgar, they would only do it for the best." + +They stopped talking for a little while, and sat still and silent--very +still it was, and very long it lasted for two boys of their age; but +Edgar's short breathing and weakness had often enforced these times of +rest, and Arthur's grave, earnest face showed him to be deeply thinking. +They made a great contrast as they sat together in the woody shade, where +the woodbine-scented breeze was fanning softly, and the quivering light +fell scatteringly. There was a weary, restless look brooding over Edgar's +dark eyes, and his face was pale and worn-looking. Arthur's cheeks were +ruddy and round, and his thick brown hair clustering on his sunburnt +forehead; but with all the energy and liveliness that could be seen on his +face, a peaceful, restful look could be noticed there too. + +"This walk to-day reminds me of long ago," said Edgar, after a while. "We +used to walk, papa and I. Sometimes we set off directly after breakfast, +and took some luncheon with us, and then father used to fish, and it was +such fun when he caught some; and then we had luncheon, and sometimes +father went to sleep for a little, and sometimes he would tell me stories; +and talk, oh, so nicely!" + +"What did he talk about?" asked Arthur. + +"Well, I can't tell you exactly, or at any rate I don't want to tell you." + +"I wish you would," Arthur said. + +Presently Arthur spoke again. + +"Yes, it is very nice; that is, it is _half_ nice to think of those +times." + +"It must be quite nice for you," said Edgar, "because, you see, you may +think that it will all come again some day, and that you will be with your +father and mother again; but I never shall. Oh, Arthur, I do want to see +him sometimes! I think if I knew for certain he was alive in India, I +could wait any time. It would be so nice to know he was coming back again, +and that I was going to live with him." + +And then it struck Arthur, how very much more he had to be thankful for, +than he had thought. He looked at Edgar's sad life, and then he thought of +how very much brighter his own was. But he knew enough of dreariness, to +be able to enter into Edgar's sadness. + +"Well, Edgar, I'll tell you what. When my father and mother come home, I +will get them to ask you to come to Ashton Grange, and you may be quite +sure the people there will want you. I know I shall. I think, although you +are such a queer fellow, that I like you very much, and I am so sorry you +are so unhappy." + +Something like a happy smile came into Edgar's face, as he said, "I think +I should like that." + +Arthur had not known it, but in Edgar's heart there had always been a +great liking for him. He was so different from himself. Perhaps that was +one reason, and Edgar's was one of those deep, intense natures that cling +very closely to their heart's objects. + +By and by they began their homeward way, and as they walked along the +lane, Arthur said: + +"Tell me what it was your father used to talk about. I believe I know +partly." + +"Well, if you know, what is the use of my telling?" + +"Because I don't quite know. And, Edgar, was it not about heaven, and the +way to get there?" + +"Yes," said Edgar in a low voice; "but I don't think grandmamma agreed +with him. Any way, I know that when she talked, it made me miserable." + +"You seem to have had a great many troubles, Edgar," said Arthur, "even +more than I have." + +"Oh, Arthur," said Edgar, "I don't think any one knows how unhappy I have +been! Look here," and Edgar spoke in a lower voice; "I don't mind telling +you, because you are different from the rest; but, do you know, I have +always been in a fright about something or other. Sometimes, in the winter +nights, all by myself at home, I have had such horrid thoughts, and I have +fancied all sorts of things; and even in the summer evenings, when the sky +had that red look, it always made me think about the moon being turned +into blood, and about judgment and punishment; and I used to think about +the great white throne, and myself standing before it, and God judging me, +and that papa and mamma would be on one side, and I should be on the +other." + +"Well, I have had thoughts like that, I think; but then I always thought +of the Lord Jesus Christ; and how could I be afraid then?" + +"But He will judge people, won't He?" + +"Oh, Edgar, He is our Saviour!" said Arthur earnestly. "It is only when +people will not have Him for their Saviour that He is their Judge. Why, I +am not afraid of the Lord Jesus. How could I be?" + +"Ah," said Edgar sadly, "that is because you are converted, and I am not! +I have tried so hard. Oh, so many times, after I have heard sermons, I +have felt so frightened, and I have made up my mind I would be a +Christian; and then in bed I have cried so, and I have thought, that +surely this time I must really go on right, and the next day, it has all +been different again, and I did not care a bit about it!" + +"But, Edgar, the Lord Jesus wants you to come to Him, a great deal more +than you want it. I know He does, because he says, 'Ye _will not_ come to +me that ye might have life.'" + +"But what is coming?" said Edgar in a dreary voice. + +"Well, I'll tell you the way, my mother once explained it to me. Don't you +know, if the Lord Jesus were here on the earth, you would go to the place +where He was, and say, 'I am here, Lord Jesus; I come;' and so now you can +say that while you are sitting here, because He is here, and everywhere; +so you need not move. And, Edgar, don't you think He knows that you say +it? I am certain He does, because He has been wanting you to answer, ever +since He called." + +"But," said Edgar, "you make it out, as if it was not to try a bit." + +"Well, and that is it," said Arthur, with a bright, happy smile. "That is +just what mother says. I can tell you another thing she said. You remember +about the Lord Jesus feeding the people in the wilderness?" + +"Yes, with the loaves and the fishes." + +"Yes; that was it. Well, all He wanted them to do, was to rest on the +grass, and be fed; and that was just the thing, that pleased Him best. You +see they had not to try and do anything hard--had they? And mother said, +that this is what the Lord Jesus wants us to do--to stop trying, and let +Him do what He likes with us; and, you know, the Lord Jesus could not do +anything unkind, could He?" + +"You don't seem one bit afraid of Him, Arthur." + +"Why, no. How could I be afraid?" asked Arthur, with such a happy smile. +"Don't you know + + "'How our hearts delight to hear Him + Bid us dwell in safety near Him! + Why should we distrust or fear Him? + Oh, how He loves!'" + +They neither of them spoke for several minutes. It was getting late, and +the sun was falling in slanting golden rays on the green slopes; the +shadows were deepening in the woods, and other sights and sounds told, +that evening was coming on; so the two boys rose from their grassy seat. + +"I wish, oh, how I wish," said Edgar, after a long pause, "that I could +feel the same as you do, Arthur!" + +"Well, but you must not be wanting to feel first; you have to believe what +the Lord Jesus says, and He says, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise +cast out;' so if you would only come, you must be safe, for He cannot +break His word. And I will tell you what I do, Edgar, whenever I think of +how bad I have been, and when I feel frightened. I just say, 'Jesus died,' +and God hears me, and Satan hears me too; and of course when I remember +why Jesus died, I feel glad. And then, there is a text I like to +remember--a very short one it is--where the Lord Jesus is called 'the +Saviour of the world;' and, you know, if He is the Saviour of the world, +He must be my Saviour, and yours too." + +They had reached the school-gates now; the shadows were deep and long, and +Arthur's two-mile walk lay before him. But his aunt had long since found, +that she could trust him alone; so even when the moon had begun to tell, +that the day had gone; and the stars were speaking sparkling joy above, +she was not uneasy about him. + +"Well, good-bye," said Arthur. + +"Good-bye," Edgar said; but he did not go, and he stood, looking wistfully +at Arthur. Presently he spoke-- + +"Arthur, I wish----" + +"Well, what?" + +"I wish you would be my friend." + +"Why, so I am," said Arthur. + +"Yes; but I mean, I have not any brother, and you have not either. I wish +you would be the same to me as if we were. Will you?" + +"Yes," said Arthur, with a half smile, for he felt a little shy; but he +wanted to say something kind, so he said, "Very well then, we can; and +when my father and mother come home from India, you can come to us, you +know." + +And then Arthur turned away, and began his walk to Myrtle Hill at a +running pace. But he was thinking all the way very much of his talk with +Edgar North, so that when he reached his aunt's house, the earnest look +was on his face still. The darkness had not yet fallen, but the evening +shades were gathering. Mrs. Estcourt was in the garden, looking out for +her little nephew. She was very fond of Arthur; of course there were times +when things did not run altogether smoothly between them, because, +although he was a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ, and really tried to +please Him, he had a strong will and a hot temper. But if Mrs. Estcourt +saw his faults, she saw his struggles too; and she noticed when he gave +up, what was a great matter to a boy, such as he was; and she knew that +this was not natural. She knew that it was God's love that made Arthur +glad; and often in her heart's secret depths she would wish to be a child +like him once more, that she might believe as simply; for thoughts and +questions made her very unhappy at times, and the reasonings of her +natural mind prevented her enjoying the promises that God gives. But was +she not making a mistake? Could she not become a little child, as God has +told us all to do? Could she not cease to think, and begin to believe, and +take the portion of joy and life from the One, who has said, "It is more +blessed to give than to receive"? + +Arthur went to look at one particular corner of the grounds, which his +aunt had given him for his very own; it was hidden by a bend in the trees, +and he had expended a great deal of care and skill on this garden-plot. +First of all Arthur had intended, that his estate should have a river +flowing through it; but when he had dug a deep trench, and filled it, he +was much disappointed to find that the water sunk into the earth; and even +when he had lined it with stones and oyster-shells, there was only a very +faint trickling stream, and not the brimming river, that he had fancied to +himself; so then, in disgust, Arthur levelled the banks of his river, and +determined to plan his garden anew. At present it was really a pretty one, +though perhaps a little too bright, with hollyhocks and geraniums. Two +very large roses stood at the entrance, and the scarlet geraniums were +blooming there. There was a gravel walk through the middle, that led up to +a grotto, and the ferns that were growing there were well watered. Arthur +would have help from no one, in the care of his garden; and considering +this, its neatness did him great credit. + +Mrs. Estcourt thought so too, as they stood together inside the enclosure, +which was all his own. + +"Why, Arthur, I think you had better turn gardener, when you choose a +profession," she said. + +"A gardener, aunt! Well, I shouldn't mind. But I am not quite sure I shall +not be something else." + +"What would that be?" asked his aunt. + +"Well, I think I might be a missionary." + +Then he seemed to be thinking; and after some little time, he said, "I +wish he would not talk like that, I wish I could make him see." + +"Who, dear?" + +"Edgar North, auntie. I always thought he was very cross and disagreeable, +but it is not that, at all. It is because he is so unhappy. I do wish I +had thought of one other thing to say to him." + +"What was it, Arthur?" asked his aunt. + +"Why, you know, he is so frightened. Fancy," and Arthur's voice was soft +and low, "he is afraid of the Lord Jesus Christ. That must be, because he +does not know Him, must it not, auntie? And I wish I had said to him, 'If +the Lord Jesus were to come walking towards us now, and sit down here, +would you be afraid to see Him?'" + +"And would not you, dear Arthur?" asked his aunt. + +"Why, no, Aunt Daisy! How could I? The little children that He took up in +His arms were not. I am sure I should not be afraid." + +Mrs. Estcourt did not say anything, but she was thinking of what Arthur +had said. It seemed to her then, that it must be very sweet to be one of +the little children, that the Lord Jesus had blessed; for she often felt +very lonely and weary. Some people--those who only care for the things +that gold can bring--might say she had everything that she wanted; but her +heart craved a great deal more than this, and when her husband went away +from her sight for ever, she had felt as if he had taken her heart with +him. There was One, who had said to her long before, "Give me thine +heart;" but she had not listened to His voice, and she had not thought +about His love; greater than which, there is none. She was trusting in Him +for salvation, but she was not looking to Him, to feed her heart with His +love. She was following Him afar off, too far to be able to say, "I sat +down under His shadow with great delight; and His fruit was sweet to my +taste." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +MIDSUMMER HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. + + +The summer holidays were coming very near, and most of the boys at Mr. +Carey's school were looking forward to them with great joy; for they had +pleasant homes, where they knew that their fathers and mothers would +welcome them, and their young sisters and brothers would be glad to see +them again. Arthur Vivyan, too, was expecting to enjoy his time; for Mrs. +Estcourt generally spent some of the summer weeks in the Swiss mountains, +and this year it was a pleasure to her to think of showing the places, +that she knew so well, to her nephew; and the thought of his wonder and +surprise, when he should see the snowy mountains, and the deep blue lakes, +that the sun would glow with a deeper colour, gave her more pleasure than +she had known for a long time. Arthur had been very busy with his +examination, and other things had hindered another walk with his new +friend; but they both expected, when the holidays were over, and they +should meet again, that there would be more time for walks and talks. + +It was the last day of school. Arthur was hurrying in to his class, which +was in a different room from the one in which Edgar studied, when in the +corridor they met. Arthur was passing him quickly, with a nod and smile, +when Edgar stopped him, and said breathlessly-- + +"Oh, Arthur, I have been looking everywhere for you! I must speak to you." + +"I can't stop one minute," said Arthur. "I'm late as it is." + +"Yes; but I must!" said Edgar eagerly. "You don't know, I am going away to +stay." + +"Well!" and Arthur thought. "Let me see. I will try and be ready, five +minutes beforehand; and I dare say, the other boys will be longer going +to-day." + +"Oh, yes!" said Edgar. "I forgot; there will be plenty of time, of course, +this last day." + +So Arthur hurried in to his class, forgetting, after he had given it a +moment's thought, what Edgar had said. + +He thought of it again, when he was waiting under the trees; where groups +of boys were standing, talking eagerly, with bright, busy faces. Edgar's +was very different, and his pale, earnest face was even deeper than usual. + +"Well," said Arthur, "what have you to tell me?" + +Edgar had a letter in his hand. + +"Why, look here," he said. "I told you, I had to go and live at my uncle's +in London. I did not mind that; it did not make much difference; but see +here, what he says in this letter I had to-day. He is my guardian now, +you know, and he says he thinks it will be better for me on every account, +to give up school." + +"And what are you to do? Not going to have any more lessons?" + +"He says, I am to study with his boys. They have a tutor, and he hopes we +shall all find it very pleasant." + +Edgar's face did not look as if he expected to do so. + +"Well," said Arthur. + +"Do you think it is well, Arthur?" said Edgar, a little reproachfully. "I +hate it, and I hate him, and I hate them all. I thought it was bad enough +before." + +"Oh, Edgar, that's wicked!" + +"Well, I can't help it. Wait until you get bothered, and perhaps you will +be wicked too. And, of course, they will hate me, all of them. He has a +wife and a lot of daughters, as well as sons." + +"They would be your cousins, would they not?" + +"I suppose so," said Edgar hopelessly. + +"Well, do you know, I think it need not be so very bad. You know, Edgar, +they would be next best to brothers and sisters. And there might be a +little one," said Arthur, with a soft, tender feeling; as he thought of +the little sunny sister, that still lived in his heart. "Why do you hate +it so very much?" + +"Every reason," said Edgar bitterly. "And, Arthur, you know I love you, +more than any one else in the world; and I wanted to talk to you +sometimes." + +"And I am sorry, Edgar," said Arthur; "only then, you know, you are +coming to stay with us at Ashton Grange, when my father and mother come +back." + +"Ah, but that is such a very long time; and, you know, I may die before +that. Perhaps I shall; and if I were certain of going to heaven, I should +like to die." + +"I thought you would be certain by this time, Edgar; you know you ought to +be certain. Why can't you stop bothering about yourself? Oh, Edgar, I wish +you would!" + +"I do get so frightened," said Edgar, his lip trembling. + +"But mamma says, that is all the more reason, why you should let the Lord +Jesus take care of you. That's all, you know, Edgar. But I have told you +so often, I think the best thing I can do, is to pray for you." + +"Will you, Arthur? Will you really?" said Edgar, turning round a very +anxious, eager face; and he said it again. "Oh, do please, every day, +Arthur! I don't believe any one else does. Father used to pray for me; oh, +I know he did!" and Edgar's words ended in smothered sobs. + +Arthur's arms were round his neck now. "Dear Edgar, don't cry. You know I +do love you just as if you were my brother; and I will pray for you every +day. I do sometimes already. And then we can write to each other, you +know, can't we?" Looking through the trees they could see that the other +boys were fast dispersing, and that only one or two of the day boys were +left; so Arthur knew that he must go, and that it must be a very long +good-bye to Edgar. + +They walked together to the gate, and then they stopped. Edgar seemed to +be searching in his pocket for something. Presently he found it, and +placed it in Arthur's hand. + +"What is this?" said Arthur. + +"Well, it is a present for you. I have nothing else to give you, and I did +want to give you something." + +"But what is it?" said Arthur; for he seemed puzzled by the appearance of +Edgar's gift, although it was open in his hand. + +"Well, I'll tell you," said Edgar. "I have two medals that my grandfather +got at college, and father gave them to me when he went away; and, you +know, if you were my brother you would have one; so I want you to take it. +I have one just like it." + +"Very well," said Arthur; "thank you, Edgar, and I don't like saying +good-bye at all, you know; but we must; and, Edgar, won't you do it, what +we talked about?" + +"And you remember what you promised about praying. Mind you do, Arthur. +Good-bye." + +Then Arthur went away; and as he was walking homewards, there was more +than one tear brushed away by his little hot, ink-stained hand, though it +was not a heart-grief to him, and he did not know what a lonely, desolate +feeling was in Edgar's heart, as he watched him walking slowly away until +the distance hid him from his eyes; for Arthur was the chief object in his +heart just then. + +The next day the play-ground at Mr. Carey's school was quiet and empty, +and the broad shadows fell softly on the silent grass. The sheep in the +fields must have wondered at the stillness. And Mr. Carey was enjoying the +half-yearly silence that reigned there. + +Arthur had been looking forward to the holiday journey on the Continent +with glowing expectation; he could hardly believe at first that he was +really going to see the towns and countries of which he had learnt in his +geography lessons. He tried to imagine the journey, and to see pictures of +the places where they were going; but that was not very easy, as he had +never been so far before as this last journey he had taken, and he knew +nothing at all of travelling by sea; this he found out to be a very +unpleasant reality; and he wished very much that, while he remained abroad +with his aunt, the tunnel under the sea would be finished between Dover +and Calais. + +They had a very pleasant time in Switzerland. Then Arthur saw the deep +blue lake with its solemn projecting mountains that swelled in great +mounds around, and far down where the gleaming peaks of white made the +blue look deeper; and in the evening, when the sun was hiding behind, and +was throwing a flame-coloured glow on the grandeur around, he would stand +on the terrace and feel the solemn hush that told the night was coming. + +Several weeks were passed among the mountains, and it was not until just +before the opening of the school that he found himself back at Myrtle +Hill. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +AT REST NOW. + + +"I wonder why Edgar North does not write to me. I can't think what can +have happened to him. Just think, auntie; I know that when his last letter +came, the leaves had not all gone from the trees, and now look at the +snow." + +Several months had passed away since Arthur and his aunt had come home, +and the winter chill and shadows were gathering around. Many letters had +found their way to Myrtle Hill from the far-away mother in India, and +sometimes, though not so often, answers went back to tell her things about +her child that made her glad. + +At first Arthur had often had tidings of his absent friend, beginning, "My +dear Arthur, I hope you are quite well;" and there was a sadness that +spoke in his short notes that Arthur could scarcely understand. But in one +of his letters Edgar had said, "I have to be indoors by myself a great +deal, and then I think of the things we used to talk about". That was the +last letter that had come from him, and now it was several months ago, +and Arthur was wondering at the long silence, as he had written twice in +answer to this letter. But many things had taken up his thoughts and his +time, and the winter holidays had begun, before he had thought much of his +absent friend. + +"Aunt Daisy," said Arthur one morning, about two days after he had seen +his lesson books put away for the present, "I really wish I knew what has +become of Edgar; I think it is the strangest thing that he never writes to +me. People do not generally stop caring about their friends suddenly, do +they?" + +"No, dear, not generally. Perhaps little boys may be peculiar kinds of +creatures, you know," she said, smiling. + +"I am sure, aunt," said Arthur, looking aggrieved, "you think boys are +much nicer than you did once. And, besides, Edgar and I are not little." + +"No, dear," said his aunt, laughing and kissing him. "I do think they are +very nice sometimes; and you are getting a great big fellow, whatever +Edgar is." + +"I wish he would write to me," said Arthur, pausing before he began his +breakfast. + +"Perhaps he may be ill," his aunt suggested. + +"Perhaps he may be, auntie," said Arthur thoughtfully. "I wish I knew. +Poor Edgar! fancy his being ill all alone." + +"Alone, dear! Why, is he not with his uncle and his aunt?" + +"Yes; but then, you know, _all_ aunts are not nice. And there are a lot +of cousins. Perhaps you might not want to have me, if you had ever so many +children, Aunt Daisy." + +Mrs. Estcourt smiled, and perhaps she thought that Arthur was not so very +far from right. Arthur still wondered why no letter came, and at last he +had almost made up his mind to write again; but this would be a task not +at all to his taste, and one which he would very much rather avoid. + +One morning when he came down to breakfast, he saw that there was +something on his plate. It really was a letter at last! and, of course, +Arthur concluded that it could be from no one but his friend in London. + +"A letter for me at last! Well, it is quite time. Now I shall have to +answer it, I suppose. Oh! I forgot. Good morning, auntie!" + +But when Arthur had gone back to his place, and had examined his letter +more closely, he saw that it was not Edgar's round, plain hand that had +directed the envelope. + +"Why, aunt," he said, "I don't believe it is from Edgar at all. Who can it +be from? Edgar does not write that way. That is a lady's writing. What +lady could be writing to me? Mamma is the only one, and her letter could +not be from London." + +"Suppose you were to open it," said his aunt. "Nobody else has any right +to do it but you." + +"Well!" said Arthur, drawing a long breath of expectation. + +Presently he was deep in the interest of his letter, and it was not for +several minutes that he spoke again. + +"Well, this is a very queer letter, and I cannot understand it at all. I +can make out that Edgar is very, very ill. And, Auntie, do you know he +seems to think perhaps he is never going to get well at all," Arthur said +very gravely and sadly. + +"Has Edgar written to you himself?" asked his aunt. + +"Yes. At least, that is, he said it, and one of his cousins wrote it down. +Would you like to read his letter, auntie?" + +This was Edgar's letter to Arthur: + +"MY DEAR ARTHUR,--My aunt is writing to your aunt, and my cousin Minnie is +writing this for me. I am in bed, so I am not able. You see, Arthur, I am +very ill, and the doctor says I shall not get better; but I am not afraid +now, dear Arthur. Cousin Minnie is very nice. I like her so much; but she +has to go away soon. Arthur, I hope you will be able to come. I have +prayed that you may; and I think your aunt will let you, because, you see, +I am going to die, most likely, and I want to see you again. + + "Your affectionate friend, + + "EDGAR NORTH." + +"What can he mean, Aunt Daisy? What can he mean by saying, 'I hope you +will be able to come'? It is so strange not to explain." + +"Do you think that will help you to understand?" asked his aunt, giving +him one of her own letters to read. + +"What! Do you mean me to read your letter, auntie? Well!" said Arthur, +wondering at this unusual occurrence, and not connecting it at all with +his own letter. + +Mrs. Estcourt's letter began 'Dear Madam,' and it was some little time +before Arthur could understand who it was from, or what it meant. By and +by he found that it was from Edgar's aunt, and that she was wishing him to +stay at her house in London, so that he might see her little nephew again. +This letter told that Edgar was very ill indeed; that his illness was +consumption, and that the doctor expected him to live only a very short +time. + +It was several minutes before Arthur spoke, after he had read this letter. +Breakfast was quite forgotten, and he could hardly understand at first the +strange things he had read. + +"Now, Arthur dear, you must eat some breakfast before we talk," said his +aunt. + +"Aunt Daisy," he said, when he had finished, "What shall you say, when you +answer Edgar North's aunt's letter?" + +"Well, what shall I say?" + +"Auntie," said Arthur presently, "I am so sorry about Edgar. I never +thought he was so very ill. Do you think he is really going to die?" + +"Yes, dear. I should think he will not get well. But you need not be +sorry, Arthur. Don't you see, he says he is not afraid; and the world is +not such a very bright place that he should be sorry to go, when he knows +he has such a home. Don't you think so, darling?" + +"Yes," said Arthur; but the tears had dimmed his blue eyes, and a sudden +feeling in his throat made him stop speaking. + +When Mrs. Estcourt was sitting with her work by the drawing-room fire, +with Arthur by her side, much more quietly and gravely than was usual with +him, he said suddenly: + +"But, aunt, when are you going to answer that letter?" + +"That is just the question I was asking myself, and the answer was, 'Now.' +What shall I say, Arthur?" + +"Well, don't you think I had better go?" + +"Yes, surely, dear. But how are you going to get there? You cannot travel +by yourself." + +"Oh, aunt!" said Arthur, almost in an alarmed tone of voice, "I should +hope I am old enough. Why, of course I could. The idea of anybody taking +care of me!" + +"Well, but," said Mrs. Estcourt, smiling, "that is just what I have been +thinking about all this time. I have been thinking that I should feel very +unhappy, if I let you go alone. It may be foolish, Arthur; but, you know, +your father and mother gave you to me to take care of for them." + +"I know," said Arthur impatiently, "they would let me go by myself. I +could not bear to have any old man or woman looking after me." + +"They need not be old, you know," said his aunt. "Now, Arthur," she added +very decidedly, "there is no use saying anything more about it. If you go +at all, I must know that some one is in the carriage with you. I need not +tell them to take care of you, but I must know that some one will be +there; and I know Mrs. Maitland is going to London to-morrow, so I shall +find out what train she is going by." Arthur made an impatient movement; +he did not say any more, but a look was on his face that showed what he +was feeling. As it happened, he need not have been so disgusted. When the +time for starting came, and he was taking his seat in the carriage, he +found that the lady had already taken her place there; and it was not so +very trying to his feelings as he expected, for Mrs. Estcourt only said, +"This is my little nephew, Mrs. Maitland; he is going to London, and I am +glad to think he is in your company." + +"She never asked her to take care of me," said Arthur to himself, "and I +am sure she could not think of such a thing herself when she sees me." + +But Mrs. Maitland had sons of her own at home about Arthur's age, and she +knew something about boys and their ways, so that by the time they reached +the Paddington Station they were very good friends. Arthur did not at all +object to her helping him to get a cab that was to take him to Leicester +Lodge, in Kensington. + +Indeed, he was obliged to confess to himself, when he found himself alone +in the hansom cab that his friend had found for him, that it was very well +she had been with him, for when he was standing on the platform, with the +din and bustle around him, and the many people stirring in the vast +station, he had felt quite bewildered. He had never been in London before, +and this was the longest journey he had taken. + +It was a very curious feeling that he had when he found himself alone in +the cab: at first he could not get quite over the feeling that it was not +safe; it seemed to him that it would be so very easy for the driver to go +away and leave the horse to take him wherever he liked amongst the crowds +of people, and cabs, and omnibuses. + +You may be sure that he looked about him well, as they whirled along +through street after street, skirting the park and the palace-like houses. +He had to guess the names of the places they were passing through, and I +dare say some of his guesses would have amused you very much indeed. He +was quite sure a hotel that he passed was somebody's palace, perhaps the +Lord Chancellor's. He did not think it could be Her Majesty's, because +there were no soldiers. + +It was quite dark by the time the cab drove up outside Leicester Lodge, +and lights were shining above the shutters of the dining and drawing-room +windows. The dim light enabled Arthur to see that it was a large house +with a small piece of garden-ground in front, and one or two leafless +trees, which gave it rather a dreary look. + +It was not very long before he found himself standing inside the hall door +with his portmanteau. The servant showed him into a small ante-room, and +said he would tell the young ladies. Arthur had a curious feeling of not +being expected, although he knew he must be, as his aunt had written to +Mrs. North the day before. + +This was not a very quiet and orderly household evidently; there were +traces of that in the room where he was sitting, and he could hear noises +on the stairs and in the room overhead that might say the same. Presently +there was a scuffling noise in the hall, and after a little while the door +was burst quickly open, and more than one curly head peeped in, and was as +quickly drawn back, and Arthur could hear a little girl's voice say, "Oh, +Gerald, it was you made me do it; you know it was!" + +Arthur felt rather inclined to run out, and see who was there; but he +thought it would be better to wait until some older person came. + +By and by the door opened again, more quietly this time, and a young lady +came into the room. She had a kind look on her face, as she held out her +hand to Arthur, and said-- + +"I am so sorry you have been left here alone; but I could not leave the +baby, my youngest brother. Won't you come upstairs to your room?" + +Arthur was feeling just a little shy, so he only shook hands with the +young lady, and followed her upstairs. On the way, he asked, "Will you +tell me how Edgar is?" + +"Not very well, to-day; but just now he is asleep, I think. Were you and +he great friends?" + +"Yes," said Arthur. "Are you his cousin?" + +"One of his cousins. I dare say he told you there were ever so many." + +"Yes; I don't think he knew how many," said Arthur. + +"No; I should think not," said Maude, laughing. "I hardly do, sometimes. +But I believe altogether we number ten." + +"Oh," said Arthur, "what, ten brothers and sisters at home?" + +"Oh, no; we are very seldom all at home together. Two of my brothers are +abroad, and some of the girls are at school. It is a very good thing they +are sometimes." + +"There, that is Edgar's room," said Miss North, as they passed one of the +doors. "We try to keep the noise away from this passage as much as we can; +but it is not very easy with so many boys and girls." This was very true, +as just then two boys about Arthur's own age came bursting through one of +the doors, and were stopped by their sister at the entrance of the +passage. + +"Now, boys, don't come this way. You know Edgar is asleep. Just tumble +down the other stairs, if you must tumble." + +"I suppose you never tear about in that way," said Maude, with a faint +smile. + +"Oh, yes, I think I do sometimes," Arthur answered; "but, of course, it is +not so much fun doing it by one's self." + +They were in Arthur's room now, which was a small one not very far from +Edgar's; and a locked door, which opened into another room, showed that it +was a dressing-room. + +"You see, as the children and Edgar are at home, we have only this little +room. Will you be able to sleep here, do you think?" + +Edgar's cousin smiled as she spoke, and Arthur thought how very nice it +made her look. + +"Oh, yes; I should think so," he said. + +"Well, presently you will hear the tea bell. Oh, no; but I forgot! We +don't ring the tea bell now that Edgar is ill. One of the children shall +let you know, if you are not down first." + +But after a little while, when no one had come to call him, Arthur opened +his door and came down stairs. It did not need any one to tell him which +was the room where the young people were, as the sounds that came through +the shut door would let any one know that. Arthur paused outside the +school-room door, and then he opened it and went in. It was such a strange +new scene that he saw, so different from anything he had been accustomed +to, and he was almost bewildered by so many boys and girls, most of whom +seemed to be laughing and talking together. + +There was a long tea-table. The eldest sister was at the head, five +younger ones were seated around, and a tall boy was lying on a sofa near +the fire reading. Indeed, he did not call himself a boy at all; for he had +just left school, and was preparing for some difficult examination. + +All the faces round the table were turned towards Arthur as he opened the +door; but none of them spoke until Maude, noticing the silence, saw Arthur +standing. Then she said, "Gerald, why don't you speak? or Harold, this is +Arthur Vivyan, Edgar's friend." + +The two boys shook hands, and then Arthur spoke to the three little girls, +who were looking as if they would like to speak. Arnold, the eldest, +seemed to be half asleep over his book; so they sat down to tea. Arthur +was wondering where the father and mother were. It seemed so strange +altogether, and he could not help thinking that it was rather a disorderly +party. All the children seemed to do very much as they liked, and yet it +appeared as if their eldest sister took a great deal of trouble to make +them behave properly. She seemed to be constantly putting them right +without much effect. Arthur wondered whether this was what gave her face +such a tired look. + +"Harold, I wish you would let Clara alone. Do take tea properly. Gerald, +you know you would not do that if papa were here." And Maude gave a sigh, +as she saw her words had no effect. + +"I do wish you would behave properly; what must Edgar's friend think of +you?" + +"I dare say he thinks we are something like himself," said Gerald, "don't +you?" + +Arthur laughed, because he did not know what else to do. And then Maude +gave a faint laugh. + +"What's the use of keeping on wishing, Maude?" said Arnold, rousing +himself. "Why can't you make them?" + +"Well, how would you?" asked Maude. + +"Oh, that is quite another thing," said Arnold, yawning. + +"I dare say you could not do it as well as Maude," said Harold. + +"No; very likely not," said Arnold, laughing, and he returned to his book. + +"Well, I wish you would all make haste and finish tea," said Maude, taking +out her watch, "whatever way you do it. Oh, dear, I must make haste, or I +shall not be ready in time for dinner. Arnold, you must go. What will papa +say if we are not ready when the bell rings?" + +Arnold got up as if with an immense effort. "I dare say I shall be ready +quite as soon as you are, Maudie. You always get into such a fluster about +every thing." + +When the two eldest were gone, the younger ones became still more lively. +One of the little girls was more quiet than the rest, and she seemed to +think it would be nice and polite to talk to their visitor. + +"Do you always have your meals by yourselves?" asked Arthur. + +"All except breakfast," said Minnie. "You see, mamma hardly ever comes out +of her dressing-room; she is ill, and papa is away all the day, and he +only comes home to dinner at seven." + +"Does he have dinner alone?" + +"Oh, no; you know that was the reason Maude was in such a hurry. She and +Arnold dine with papa." Then they were both silent for a little while. +Presently Arthur said, "I wonder when I shall be able to see Edgar." + +Minnie hesitated, and then said, "I was just thinking about that. You see, +Edgar does not know you have come; and, besides, I think he is asleep; he +was just now, and I cannot go and ask Maude." + +"Why not?" said Arthur. + +"Oh, because dinner is going on. Papa would not like it." + +"You do what your sister tells you more than the others," said Arthur, +"don't you?" + +"Oh, we all do sometimes," said Minnie. After a little while she spoke +again: + +"I don't think Maude would mind. Perhaps she forgot, and I can tell her +about it afterwards. I'll tell you what we will do; we will go up to +Edgar's door, and then I can go in, and you can stay outside while I see +whether he is asleep, and whether I can tell him that you are here. I +don't think Maude will mind. Shall we?" + +"Yes," said Arthur. "I don't see why she should, because I came on purpose +to see Edgar." + +As soon as the other children saw Minnie and Arthur going away, there was +a general cry, "Minnie, where are you going?" + +"Never mind," said Minnie resolutely. + +"We wanted to have 'post'. There won't be enough without you. Come now, +stop," said Harold, putting his hand on the door handle. + +"Oh, Harold, do let us go!" said Minnie pitifully. + +"Well, tell us where you are going then?" Minnie saw that this was the +only chance. + +"We are going to Edgar's room, I shall be back soon, Harold." + +"Yes; but we wanted Arthur Vivyan to play. Boys are twice the fun of +girls." + +"But, you know, he came on purpose to see Edgar; and don't you remember +how very, very ill, Edgar is, Harold?" said his sister gravely. + +Harold let go his grasp of the door, and Arthur and his new little friend +found themselves safely outside. + +"Now," said Minnie, as they stood on the landing at the top of the +stairs, "you stop here, and then I will come back in a minute." + +She opened the door very cautiously, and looked in for a moment; then +Arthur saw her go inside and shut the door. It was several minutes before +she came back. + +"I told him," she said. "Oh, I hope I did not do him any harm. He was so +very glad." + +"Why," said Arthur, "I should think that would be a good thing." + +"But he is so ill, you know. I think you had better go in now. Oh," she +said, just as she was turning away, "if you think him looking very +different from what he was last summer, don't you think you had better not +seem surprised? I know my mother never likes people to say anything about +her looks." + +"Very well," said Arthur. + +It was only the firelight that brightened Edgar's room, and it danced and +sparkled around, and gave quite light enough for Arthur to see every thing +distinctly. The room felt very warm and comfortable as he went in, and the +sound of Edgar's quick, hard breathing was very plain. Arthur drew very +quietly near the bedside. Little Minnie's caution was well given; for it +needed an effort on his part to be quiet and composed, as he saw the +change in his friend; and he had to try very hard to keep the tears from +coming to his eyes. Edgar was lying so very still and quiet; his cheeks +were white and sunken, and his eyes looked large, and dark, and shining; +but there was a much happier look in them than in the old times when they +used to talk together. + +"Oh, Arthur," said Edgar, trying to stretch out his hand, "I am so glad +you have come. I did so pray that I might see you again." + +Arthur came and sat down as near him as he could. "Of course I came when +you wanted me, and my aunt said I might." + +"Hold my hand, Arthur," said Edgar, "while I talk to you. You are my +brother, you know." + +Arthur took Edgar's thin, hot hand, and held it in his own sturdy one; and +as he looked at him, he could not help it, the tears came into his eyes. + +"I know what you are thinking about, Arthur," said Edgar, "and I know you +are trying to seem as if you do not think me very ill; but you need not +mind, I know I am, and I know I am going to be with the Lord Jesus very +soon." + +"Dear Edgar," said Arthur, burying his face in the bed-clothes to hide his +tears, "I never knew you really were so very ill." + +"Didn't you?" said Edgar. "No, I suppose not. I did not know it either, +until lately, for certain. But it will be so nice in heaven, Arthur, with +the Lord Jesus. I shall never be tired, or cross, or have those pains. And +the Lord Jesus wants to have me there; that is so nice to think of. You +know I have always had a feeling that people would as soon I was away; but +I know He really wants to have me in heaven with Himself very much. It +makes me love Him so much to think of that. That is one of the things +Cousin Amy told me." + +"Who is she? Does she live here?" + +"Oh, no; she is not one of these Norths; she is one of my other uncle's +daughters; and she was staying here in the autumn. She taught me more +about the Lord Jesus than any one else, except you." + +"Did I?" asked Arthur. + +"Why, you know you did. Don't you remember those walks? I have never +forgotten those things, Arthur." + +"But you used to be very miserable then." + +"Yes; but I thought about it all afterwards; and then Cousin Amy was so +nice." + +"Tell me some of the things she said," asked Arthur; "that is, if you can; +but perhaps you have talked enough for to-night, Edgar. Perhaps I had +better go now." + +"Oh, no," said Edgar; "do stay; it is so nice having you; and I can talk +much better in the evenings. I will tell you some of the nice thoughts I +had, if you like. You know I have had so much time to think, Arthur. I +have had so many hours by myself, lying here." + +"Have you been here long, then, and by yourself? Oh, Edgar, why couldn't +you have let me know?" asked Arthur reproachfully. + +"Oh, because I could not write myself. I became worse so suddenly, you +know. It seems such a long, strange time since I came, and since last +holidays when I saw you, Arthur. At first it was so horrid; and then I got +ill, and then Cousin Amy came, and then Louisa and Minnie came home for +the holidays, and now you are here." + +"How was it horrid?" asked Arthur. + +"Well, I know they did not much want me. I don't mean they were unkind; +but just think of all the children here. It does not make much difference +to Uncle North, because he is away all the day at his office, nor to poor +Aunt North either, because she is always ill; but I know Maude has enough +to do already; and Arnold says he thinks boys are a great bother. Then the +others used to be making such a noise, and taking long walks, and I could +not; and they all said I was not happy; but I was just as happy as +anywhere else, only I could not be the same as they were." + +"That little girl seems nice," said Arthur, "the one that told you I was +here." + +"Minnie? Oh, yes, she is a dear little thing. But she has only been at +home about a fortnight. It was she who got Aunt North to ask you to come. +I love her; she has been more kind to me than any of the rest." + +"I expect my little sister Mildred would have been something like her if +she had lived," said Arthur. + +"You cannot think how I used to wish for you, Arthur. While Cousin Amy was +here I never thought of asking her to write to you for me; besides, it +would not have been very much use, when I could not have asked you to +come. Maude used sometimes to come up and sit in my room. But I don't know +how it is, I feel rather afraid of Maude; and she has so much to do, and +altogether I did not like her to do it. Then when the holidays began she +could not come up. But the day after Minnie came home, she came up and +talked; and I did not mind asking her anything." + +"Did you ask her to write to me?" asked Arthur. + +"Not exactly. One day she asked me, when we were talking about my not +going to live, whether there was any one I would like to see; and I said +there was one person, and that was you, you know. Then the next time she +came she said, 'I've asked mamma, Edgar, and she says we may, if Maude can +manage.' I could not think what she meant at first. Was she not a dear +little thing?" + +"Yes; and then," said Arthur, very much interested. + +"Oh, then she coaxed Maude in some way, and I said the letter, and Minnie +wrote it." + +Just then the door opened, and some one appeared with a tray, whom Arthur +had not yet seen. This was the nurse, who was a kind person, and came to +Edgar's bedside when she could leave her own charge. + +"Oh," she said, "so you have your friend, Mr. Edgar, I see." + +"Yes, nurse," said Edgar, "isn't it nice?" + +"But you must not talk too much, you know, sir." + +"I expect he has been talking quite enough," said Arthur, jumping up; "and +I am going now, Edgar, I can come again to-morrow, you know." + +"That's a good young gentleman," said nurse. + +So Edgar's thoughts could not be told until the next day. + +On the way down stairs, Arthur met Maude; and he began to wonder now +whether she would like his having been all this time in Edgar's room, and +whether she would know. Perhaps his thoughts were in his face, for Maude +smiled, and said: + +"Oh, I know. You have been in Edgar's room. Minnie told me all about it. +What did you think of him?" + +"I think he is very, very ill, Miss North." + +"Yes; poor child. It is easy to see he cannot live long. He is very +peaceful though." + +Maude sighed as she spoke. Perhaps she was wishing that she was the same +herself, and that there was a peace in her heart which the Lord gives, +"not as the world giveth." + +"Miss North," said Arthur, "you did not mind your sister having taken me +up stairs, did you?" + +"Oh, dear, no. I dare say she knows quite as well as I do what is good for +Edgar. She is a very sensible little woman." + +Arthur did not find that the North family were much more subdued and +orderly the next day than they had been the evening before. This was +holiday time, and with no lessons to do, it could hardly be expected but +that there should be a commotion all the day. + +Happily the school-room was some distance from the room where the sick boy +lay, so very little noise found its way there. + +Mrs. North wished to see Arthur the next day. He felt rather shy of going; +but as it had to be done, he made up his mind to do it. He thought her +something like her daughter Maude, only more quiet and gentle, and there +was a sweeter look on her face than Maude usually wore. + +When the evening came, a message was sent that Edgar wanted to have Arthur +with him again. He was always better at that time; and he would sit up +with the pillows around him, and the crimson curtains looking so dark and +red behind his pale white face; but the firelight that glowed around, and +showed Arthur how thin and sunken his face was, showed him, too, that a +calm, happy peace was spreading there, and making it very beautiful. + +"Arthur," said Edgar, "I want you to have my Bible and my watch; will you? +and keep them always for my sake." + +"But, Edgar, you don't _know_ you are going to die; you don't know it for +certain," said Arthur, his voice trembling a little. + +"Oh, yes, I do; I know I am dying; but, you know, Arthur, I am only going +to the Lord Jesus, and He wants me so much; for He has died instead of me, +and all my sins are washed away in His precious blood. Cousin Amy used to +sing something so nice; I cannot remember it all, but some of it was +this-- + + "'Like a bairn to its mither, a wee birdie to its nest, + I wad fain be ganging noo unto my Saviour's breast; + For He gathers in His bosom witless, worthless lambs like me, + And carries them Himsel' to His ain countree.' + +"And that is just the way I feel, Arthur. I feel just going to my home; +and I shall never be tired or cross there." + +"I'm sure you are not cross here," said Arthur. "Edgar, do tell me about +your getting so happy." + +"Oh, yes; and I want to tell you about Cousin Amy too. Well, you know, it +was rather miserable when first I came, and I had to be up here all alone; +and I used to cry so, Arthur, thinking about you--I dare say it was like a +baby; but I could not help it--and about papa. Oh, I did so want to see +papa! and it did not make me happy to think about the Lord Jesus and +heaven. But Cousin Amy came; and she used to sit here and read me little +bits, and hymns; one was that one I said a bit of, and others. And she was +so kind; she used to get me nice cool things to take; and sometimes she +would fan me, and put her hand on my head when it was so hot; and, oh, I +was so sorry when she was gone. One evening I was crying, and then I began +thinking about the last verses she had read to me. You know, it was that +part about the Lord feeding the multitude; and then He sent the disciples +away in a boat, and went by Himself to pray; and I thought if I had been +alive then, and that I had known He was away in that mountain by Himself, +I would have got out of bed, and would have found my way to Him; and it +would have been so nice with nobody there but Himself and me on the great +lonely mountain! I should have felt so safe with Him anywhere. And then I +began to think what He would have said to me; and I thought it would be, +'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.' Then I would have +stayed, you know, because He would not send me away. And I thought He +would have put His arms round me; and how safe I would have felt! And then +I began thinking that I could do just the same in bed where I was, because +He could see and hear just the same; so I said to Him, 'Lord Jesus Christ, +I am here at Thy feet;' and I said to Him that hymn, 'Just as I am.' It +was so happy. And now to think of all the things He has given +me--everlasting life, and the forgiveness of my sins, and so much! And, +Arthur, I am just keeping there now until I go to sleep, and I shall be +with Him for ever." + +"Oh, Edgar," said Arthur, "I am glad you are so happy." + +Edgar had talked so much that he was exhausted; and he had to lie back on +the pillows, breathing very quickly. + +So they stayed quiet for a little while; and the firelight glowed and +danced on Arthur's brown curls, and lighted his ruddy cheeks that seemed +to make the paleness of Edgar's greater. + +"Edgar," said Arthur, "you will not be able to come to Ashton Grange now. +Don't you remember when we said you would? I did think it would have been +so nice." + +"Yes; I remember," a little shade passing over Edgar's face. "I used to +think it would be so nice. But, Arthur, it is better to go to the Lord +Jesus; it is the Father's house, you know, and my father and mother are +there; and it is my own home." + +Edgar's voice had been getting weaker while he was speaking the last time; +and as Arthur looked at him, it seemed even to him, who knew so little +about illness, that Edgar must be worse. + +"Edgar," he said, "I am going now, because I know you are tired; and nurse +told me you would want something to eat when I went, so I shall send her +to you. Good-night, Edgar, dear Edgar." + +He did not try to keep Arthur that night; and the "good-night" he said to +him was faintly spoken; but there was a loving look in his dark eye as he +watched his friend to the door. + +They neither of them knew how very near Edgar was to "his own home," and +that very soon his weary spirit would rest for ever, where no heart can +breathe a sigh, and no sound can enter to say it is not joy. + +That night a ransomed one went away from the earth, and God took him. He +would never be weary any more, and no pain or trouble would make the +lonely child sorrowful. He would never know what it was to be anxious or +unhappy; he would have the sweetness of perfect rest, for + + "So He giveth His beloved sleep." + +And Edgar knew that the Lord who loved him had a welcome for him in the +bright home of everlasting joy; for He has said, "Father, I will that they +also whom Thou hast given me be with me where I am." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +CONCLUSION. + + +We will now pass over the next four years. After Edgar North was taken +home, to be for ever with his Saviour, Arthur returned to Myrtle Hill with +a sad, sad heart; for he loved Edgar very much, and he was the only +boy-friend he ever had. + +But then his sorrow was sweetened by the knowledge that Edgar was not gone +into a dim, unknown region; but had left this world to be with that +gracious Saviour who loved him far more, and cared for him better than any +earthly friend could, however willing; and then Arthur knew that by-and-by +they would be together; and meanwhile he was under the same good +Shepherd's care, and just as safe as his little friend; for the Lord Jesus +has promised that His sheep shall "never perish." Is it not happy to be a +lamb of that flock which has Jesus for its Shepherd? + +So the years passed on. Arthur was still studying very hard at his +lessons, and trying to work for his Master in the little ways he could. +And did he all this time forget his dear father and mother in the far-off +land? No, indeed. Often and often his fancy would wander far over the deep +blue sea, to that country which contained those who were nearest and +dearest to him, and the yearning to see them was just as strong as ever. +Seven long years had passed since that sad day of parting, which Arthur +remembered so well; and these years had made a great difference in him. He +was not the same little boy as when we first saw him; indeed _he_ quite +thought his sixteen years entitled him to drop the appellation of "boy;" +and he had grown to be very tall, so that he looked older than he really +was. I think few people but his mother would have recognized him, and she +would have known him by the same bright, open look on his face, and his +merry blue eyes, for they were unchanged. Arthur had not been left alone +all these years for nothing. In his loneliness and sorrow he had been +learning slowly, but surely, more and more to cast all his care on +another, to confide in Him as a child in its father; he knew more of the +rest of lying in those "everlasting arms," and had proved what a refuge +God is; and this was well worth all the sorrow through which he had learnt +the lesson. + +One morning in May, when Arthur came down to breakfast, he found on the +table something that was always welcome to him--a letter from India. He +tore it open eagerly enough, but how little he knew what it contained! It +was from his mother, and she wrote to tell her boy that Mr. Vivyan's time +had now ended, so nothing hindered their return to England, and even now, +by the time this letter arrived, they would be on their way home. It was +hurriedly written, as she was busy preparing for the voyage, so there was +little more said in it than was necessary; but Arthur's heart gave a quick +response as he read the words: "And God only knows the great joy He has in +store for me in giving me back my darling Arthur." + +Was it _really_ true? Arthur could scarcely believe it, that the long +thought of and yearned for time was indeed so near. How often in his fancy +he had tried to picture to himself that meeting, and to imagine what his +feelings would be, and now it was coming so soon. He felt almost a little +stunned at first, it was so sudden; but he was very, very happy, and very +thankful to his Father in heaven for giving him this joy. + +It was not long before Mrs. Estcourt came down. Her face showed that she +already knew the good news, for she had a letter that morning too, and she +met Arthur, who came eagerly to greet her, with a fond, sympathising +embrace. "Oh, Arthur," she said, "I am _so_ glad for you." His aunt then +told him, during the course of breakfast, that they expected the ship +would probably reach England in about a week from this time, and they +would come direct to Myrtle Hill, where they would stay a little while. + +It was some days after this, when Arthur had hardly got over the first +excitement, that another letter arrived. This time the post-mark was +Southampton. They were in England, and hoped to be at Mrs. Estcourt's +house the following day. What a long and wearisome morning the next was! +for, as I dare say every one knows, time always passes slowly when we are +expecting or waiting for anything. Mrs. Vivyan had said in her letter, +that the train by which they intended to come arrived at about five +o'clock. The day could not have been more lovely; it was a soft, bright, +early summer's evening, and the country around Myrtle Hill looked very +beautiful in the mellow sunlight; the trees which surrounded the house +cast long, dark shadows on the green sloping lawn, and rustled gently as +the breeze stirred amongst them. Arthur was out there watching and +listening for the sound of carriage wheels, and though the time seemed to +him to be creeping instead of flying, it was not really so very long +before he heard it. In another minute a tall, fair lady was stepping out +of the carriage. Arthur only said "Mother!" and rushed into her arms, and +then to his father: it would be hard to say which was the happiest in that +meeting-moment, only Arthur felt rather as if he were in a dream. May not +such earthly joys show us a little what it will be to see the One whom, +having not seen, we love? And as Arthur thus rejoiced in the fulfilment of +his long-cherished hope, what will it be to have our one great hope at +last realized? "And His servants shall serve Him, and they shall see His +face." + +It was not until late in the evening that Arthur and his mother were quite +alone, when all the first bustle and talking were over; and then what a +happy, quiet talk it was! and how their hearts were overflowing with +happiness! Then they both knelt down together again before the throne of +grace, and Mrs. Vivyan offered up heartfelt thanks and praise to God for +past protection, and for now bringing herself and her son together. + +Arthur left Myrtle Hill to live with his father and mother; and his mother +rejoiced to see that her fondest hopes and wishes for him were fulfilled; +and when he had left his childhood behind him, it was still his joy to +deliver to others the glad message of salvation with which his Master had +entrusted him. + + +FINIS. + + +KILMARNOCK: +JOHN RITCHIE, PUBLISHER. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFT AT HOME*** + + +******* This file should be named 22916.txt or 22916.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/1/22916 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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. 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