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diff --git a/old/54596-h/54596-h.htm b/old/54596-h/54596-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a07f876..0000000 --- a/old/54596-h/54596-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5378 +0,0 @@ -<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nelly Channell, by Sarah Doudney. - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} -/*headers*/ - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -.faux { - font-size: 0.1em; - visibility: hidden; -} - -p.faux_h1 { - font-size: 1.8em; - text-align: center; - line-height: 1.8em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -p.faux_h { - font-size: 1em; - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0.05em; -} - -p.chapter_name { - text-align: center; - font-size: 0.8em; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-top: 0.7em; - padding-bottom: 0.3em; -} - -.nopagebreak { - page-break-before: avoid; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%} - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} -hr.r65 {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -/*toc*/ - -.toc { - max-width: 30em -} - -table { - margin-bottom: 1em; - width: 100%; -} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} /* page numbers */ - - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -/*variants*/ - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.small {font-size: 0.75em;} - -.bold {font-weight: bold;} - -.caption {text-align: center; - page-break-before: avoid;} - -abbr { - text-decoration: none; - border-bottom: none; -} - -@media handheld { - abbr { - text-decoration: none; - border-bottom: none; - } -} - -/*frontmatter*/ -.gothic { - font-family: "Old English Text MT", Gothic, "Cloister Black", "Palatino Linotype", serif; -} - -.title1 { - font-size: 2em; - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-top: 0.5em; - padding-bottom: 3em; - font-weight: bold; -} - -.title2 { - font-size: 1.2em; - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-top: 0.4em; - padding-bottom: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0.1em -} - -.title3 { - font-size: 0.75em; - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-top: 0em; - padding-bottom: 0em; - -} - -.title4 { - font-size: 1em; - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-top: 0em; - padding-bottom: 3em; - -} - -@media handheld { - .title1 { - font-size: 1.5em; - } - .title2 { - font-size: 1em; - } - .title3 { - font-size: 0.65em; - } - .title4 { - font-size: 0.75em - } -} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.cover { - margin-top: 1.5em; - margin-bottom: 1.5em; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container - { - text-align: center; - margin: -1em 0; - } - -.poetry - { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; - } - -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - -.poetry .verse - { - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em; - } - -.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:small; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - </style> - </head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Nelly Channell, by Sarah Doudney - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Nelly Channell - -Author: Sarah Doudney - -Release Date: April 24, 2017 [EBook #54596] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NELLY CHANNELL *** - - - - -Produced by Melissa McDaniel, Mhairi and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class = "cover"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" height="731" alt="Cover" /> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> - -<div class = "transnote"> -<h2 class = "nopagebreak" title = "">Transcriber's Note</h2> -<p>All illustrations have been moved near to the text they refer to.</p> -<p>Pages have been renumbered to eliminate blank pages. The original page numbers have been retained -in the table of contents to give an indication of location and hyperlinks to the correct chapter have been provided.</p> -<p>The cover has been created by the transcriber and placed in the public domain.</p> -</div> - -<div class = "chapter"> -<h1 class = "faux" title = "NELLY CHANNELL.">NELLY CHANNELL.</h1> -<p class = "title1">NELLY CHANNELL.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i-004.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="caption">“Until she came to the side of the brook.”—Page 196.</p></div> -</div> - -<div class = "chapter"> -<p class= "title1">NELLY CHANNELL.</p> -<p class="title3">BY</p> -<p class ="title2">SARAH DOUDNEY,</p> -<p class="title3">AUTHOR OF</p> -<p class="title4"><i>“Strangers Yet,” “A Woman’s Glory,” “What’s in -a Name,” “Nothing but Leaves,” etc.</i></p> -<p class="title4 gothic"><span class = "bold">With Four Illustrations.</span></p> - -<p class="center gothic"><span class = "bold">Boston.</span></p> - -<p class="title2">IRA BRADLEY & CO.,</p> - -<p class= "center">162, WASHINGTON STREET.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2> - -<p class = "faux_h1">CONTENTS</p> - -<div class="center"> -<table class="toc" border="0" cellpadding="6" cellspacing="2" summary="Contents"> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="1">I.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><span class="small">PAGE</span></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Home at Huntsdean, and its New Inmates</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_1' title = "Go to page 1">1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="2">II.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Brother and Sister.—Rhoda Farren perplexed</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_15' title = "Go to page 15">17</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="3">III.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Spared Life.—News from Robert Clarris</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_19' title = "Go to page 19">23</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="4">IV.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">An Invitation from Squire Derrick</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_37' title = "Go to page 37">43</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="5">V.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Helen under a New Aspect</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_45' title = "Go to page 45">53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="6">VI.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">“<span class="smcap">The Master is come, and calleth for thee</span>”</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_55' title = "Go to page 55">65</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="7">VII.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Disposal of Helen’s Jewels</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_67' title = "Go to page 67">79</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="8">VIII.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Farm purchased by one Ralph Channell</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_73' title = "Go to page 73">87</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="9">IX.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">“<span class="smcap">The Consciousness of Battle</span>”</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_84' title = "Go to page 84">101</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="10">X.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Story of the Dark Hour</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_91' title = "Go to page 91">111</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="11">XI.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Nelly Channell</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_108' title = "Go to page 108">131</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="12">XII.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Morgan Foster, the New Curate</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_116' title = "Go to page 116">141</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="13">XIII.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">What a little Poem revealed</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_124' title = "Go to page 124">151</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="14">XIV.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Eve Hazleburn, Poet and Friend</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_132' title = "Go to page 132">161</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER <abbr title="15">XV.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Confession overheard</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_142' title = "Go to page 142">173</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan = "2">CHAPTER <abbr title="16">XVI.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">How the Truth came out</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_155' title = "Go to page 155">189</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan = "2">CHAPTER <abbr title="17">XVII.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">An unlooked-for Release</span></td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_165' title = "Go to page 165">201</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan = "2">CHAPTER <abbr title="18">XVIII.</abbr></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">“<span class="smcap">What God hath joined together</span>”</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_173' title = "Go to page 173">211</a></td></tr> -</table> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class = "chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span> -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER I. THE HOME AT HUNTSDEAN AND ITS NEW INMATES.">CHAPTER <abbr title="1">I.</abbr></h2> -<p class="faux_h"> CHAPTER <abbr title="1">I.</abbr></p> -<p class="chapter_name">THE HOME AT HUNTSDEAN AND ITS -NEW INMATES.</p> - -<p><span class = "smcap">It</span> was the dreariest of November days. The -only bright spot was a crimson sumach, spreading -its gorgeous foliage against the watery grey -of the sky, and misty back-ground of fog-hidden -fields. It was a day that made the burdens of -life seem heavier than they really were, and -set the heart aching for the sunshine of the -vanished summer.</p> - -<p>The scene was as still as death. There was -not wind enough to lift the pale vapours that -hung over the meadows. No kindly breezes -came to the poor brown leaves, heaped on the -wayside, and carried them off to quiet hollows -where they might have decent burial. Better -rain and tempest than such a gloomy calm as -this; and better the roar and rattle of the train<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -than the heavy jog-trot of the carrier’s horses, -and the rumble of his wagon.</p> - -<p>“It will never be the same home again,” said -Rhoda Farren to herself, as the old grey cottage -came in sight. There was the low, moss-grown -wall, built of flints—there were the splendid -sumachs, brightening the desolate garden. -Rhoda and her cousin Helen had chased each -other along those grassy paths when they were -children. But they were women now, and had -put away childish things. Rhoda loved her -cousin reasonably well, yet not well enough to -give up her own bedroom to her and her baby.</p> - -<p>The baby was the principal grievance. -Rhoda had had very little to do with children; -and being of a studious turn, she did not want -to improve her acquaintance with them. In -reading her favourite books she always skipped -the parts that related their sayings and doings. -It was, therefore, no small cross to find an infant -of two months old introduced into the -family circle. For there she had hoped to reign -supreme.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<p>She had a presentiment that there would be -rivalry between the baby and herself—a struggle -for mastery, in which her little opponent -might possibly be victor. “Baby lips would -laugh her down,” if she attempted remonstrance. -Even parents and a fond brother -might be won over to the cause of the small -usurper.</p> - -<p>For three years Rhoda Farren had been -living away from home, only coming back for a -fortnight at Christmas, and sometimes for a few -days in midsummer. Neighbours and friends -had looked upon her as fortunate. She had -held the post of companion to the rich widow of -a London merchant, and had been well treated, -and not ill remunerated.</p> - -<p>The widow was lately dead, and Miss Farren -was returning to her home with an annuity of -twenty pounds, to be paid regularly by Mrs. -Elton’s executors.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Elton had not been difficult to live with; -and her companion had adapted herself to her -ways more readily than most girls of twenty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -would have done. The quiet house in Cavendish -Square had been no uncheerful home. -But the mode of life there had strengthened -Rhoda’s habits of self-indulgence. She had -had ample time for reading and musing. No -harsh words had chafed her temper, no small -nuisances had planted thorns in her path. -They had few visitors. Weeks would pass -without their hearing other voices than those of -the servants. It did not matter to them that -there were mighty things done in the great -world. It was an unwholesome life for two -women to lead—a life of cramped interests and -narrow thoughts.</p> - -<p>Helen had been living in Islington, while -Rhoda was in Cavendish Square. But in those -days Miss Farren never went to see anybody; -and she excused herself for not visiting Helen -by saying that Mrs. Elton did not like her to -be gadding about. Thus it came to pass that -she had not even once seen her cousin’s husband.</p> - -<p>She knew that Robert Clarris had taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -Helen from her situation of nursery governess, -and had married her after a brief acquaintance. -Rhoda’s parents were Helen’s only surviving -relatives, and they had given their full consent -to the match. It was not a bad match for a -penniless girl to make; for Robert Clarris was -a confidential clerk in the office of Mr. Elton, -son of the widow in Cavendish Square.</p> - -<p>It was in July that Mrs. Elton’s health began -to fail. Rhoda Farren saw the change -stealing over her day by day, and knew what it -portended. In a certain way she had been fond -of the old woman; but it was an attachment -without love. There would be no great pain -when the ties between them were broken, and -Rhoda was conscious of this. She was even -angry with herself for not being more sorry -that Mrs. Elton was dying.</p> - -<p>“The worry of life is wearing me out, -Rhoda,” said the widow one day, when Miss -Farren had found her violently agitated, and in -tears. It surprised her not a little to hear that -Mrs. Elton had any worries. But when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -wind shakes the full tree, there is always a -great rustling of the leaves. The bare bough -does not quake; it has nothing to lose. Mrs. -Elton had been a rich woman from her youth -upward, and she could not bear that a single -leaf should be torn from her green branches.</p> - -<p>“I have had a dreadful loss, Rhoda,” she -continued; “a loss in my business. The business -is mine, you know. I always said my son -should never have it while I was alive. But -of course I have let him carry it on for me, -and very badly he has managed! That confidential -clerk of his—Clarris—has robbed me of -three hundred pounds!”</p> - -<p>“You surely don’t mean my cousin Helen’s -husband, Mrs. Elton?” cried Rhoda.</p> - -<p>“How should I know anything about his -being your cousin’s husband?” said the old -lady peevishly. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>“His wife is a very unlucky -woman, whoever she is. Three hundred pounds -have been paid into Clarris’s hands for me, and -he has embezzled every shilling of it. My son -always had a ridiculous habit of petting the -people he employed. This is what has come -of it.”</p> - -<p>“Is he in prison?” faltered Rhoda.</p> - -<p>“No; I am sorry to say that he isn’t. Those -lazy idiots, the detectives, have let him slip. -He has had the impertinence to write a canting -letter to my son, telling him that every farthing -shall be restored.”</p> - -<p>The fugitive was not captured. Perhaps Mr. -Elton had a secret liking for the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ci-devant</i> clerk, -and did not care to have him too hotly pursued. -Poor lonely Helen had travelled without -delay to her uncle’s house, and there her little -girl had entered this troublesome world. At -the end of October Mrs. Elton had ceased to -fret for the three hundred pounds, and had gone -where gold and silver are of small account. -And on this November afternoon Rhoda Farren -had returned to her old home once more.</p> - -<p>Bond, the carrier, had picked up Miss Farren -and her belongings when the train had set her -down at the rural railway station. Then came -the five mile drive to Huntsdean, over the roads<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -that she had often traversed in her girlhood. -The pallid mist clung to every branch of the -familiar trees, and veiled the woodland alleys -where she had watched the rabbits and squirrels -in bygone times. Not a gleam of sunshine -welcomed her back to the old haunts; not a -brown hare leaped across her path; not a bird -sent forth a note of welcome. Nature and -Rhoda were in the same mood on that memorable -day.</p> - -<p>But if the whole scene had been radiant with -flowers, Rhoda would still have chosen to “sit -down upon her little handful of thorns.” She -told herself again and again that her good days -were done. Was she not coming home to find -the house invaded, and her own room occupied, -by the wife and child of a thief?</p> - -<p>Yes, a thief. She called him that hard name -a dozen times, and even whispered it as she -sat under the wagon-tilt. It is a humbling fact, -that humanity finds relief in calling names. -Ay, it is a miserable thing to know that we -have fastened many a bitter epithet on some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -whose names are written in the Book of -Life.</p> - -<p>“Wo!” cried Bond to his horses.</p> - -<p>The ejaculation might have been applied to -Rhoda; for it was a woful visage that emerged -from the tilt and met the gaze of John -Farren as he came out of the garden gate.</p> - -<p>“You don’t look quite so young as you did, -Rhoda,” he said when he had lifted her from -the wagon and set her on her feet.</p> - -<p>There are birds that pluck the feathers from -their own breasts. For hours Rhoda had been -silently graving lines upon her face, and deliberately -destroying the bloom and freshness that -God meant her to keep. But she did not like -to be told of her handiwork. When Miss So-and-so’s -friends remark that she is getting <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">passé</i>, -is it any comfort to her to know that her own -restless nature, and not Time, has deprived her -of her comeliness? Many a woman is lovelier -in her maturity than in her youth. But it is a -kind of beauty that comes with the knowledge -of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>“the things that belong unto her peace.”</p> - -<p>John looked after her boxes, and paid the -carrier. The wagon rumbled on through the -village, the black retriever barking behind it, to -the exasperation of Bond’s dog, which was -tethered under the wain. Then the brother put -his hands on his sister’s shoulders, glanced at -her earnestly for a moment, and kissed her.</p> - -<p>“Mother’s waiting for you,” he said.</p> - -<p>As he spoke, Mrs. Farren appeared in the -porch, and at the sight of her Rhoda’s ill-temper -was ready to take flight. But Helen was -behind her, waiting too—waiting to weary her -cousin with all the details of her wretched story, -and expecting her, perhaps, to pity Robert -Clarris.</p> - -<p>“It’s good to have you back again, my dear,” -said the mother’s soft voice and glistening eyes.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Rhoda!” piped Helen’s treble, “we -were children together, were we not? Oh! -what sorrows I’ve gone through, and how I -have been longing to talk to you!”</p> - -<p>Before Miss Farren could reply, a feeble wail -arose from the adjoining room. The baby had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -lost no time in announcing its presence, and -Helen hurried in to the cradle. Dim as the -light was, her mother must have detected the -annoyance on Rhoda’s face. Or perhaps her -quick instinct served her instead of sight, for -she hastened to say—</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t often cry, poor little mite! But -it has been ailing to-day.”</p> - -<p>There was only one flight of stairs in the -house. As Rhoda slowly ascended them, the -loud, steady ticking of the old clock brought -back many a childish memory. Would the -hours pass as swiftly and brightly as they had -done in earlier years? She sighed as she -thought of all the small miseries that would -make time hang heavily on her hands. It -never even occurred to her then that</p> - -<div class = "poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“No true life is long.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>A fretful spirit will spin hours out of minutes, -and weeks out of days.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I told you, Rhoda, my dear, that we had -given your room to Helen. I said so in a -letter, didn’t I?” remarked Mrs. Farren, leading -the way into the chamber that she had prepared -for her daughter. “This is nearly as -good. And I felt sure that you would not -grudge the larger room to that poor thing and -her child.”</p> - -<p>“What is to be, must be,” Rhoda replied.</p> - -<p>“Don’t stop to unpack anything,” continued -her mother, trying not to notice the gloomy -answer. “Come downstairs again as soon as -you can. There’s a good fire, and a bit of -something nice for tea. It’s a kind of day that -takes the light and colour out of everything,” -she added, with a slight shiver. “I’ll never -grumble at the weather that God sends; yet -I’m always glad when we’ve got through -November.”</p> - -<p>It was Rhoda who had brought the damp -mist indoors. It was Rhoda—God forgive her—who -had taken the light and colour out of -everything. In looking back upon our lives, -we must always see the dark spots where we -cast our shadow on another’s path—a path<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -which, perhaps, ran very close beside our own. -It may be that our dear ones, enfolded in the -sunlight of Paradise, have forgotten the gloom -that we once threw over their earthly way. -But we never can.</p> - -<p>When Rhoda went down into the old parlour, -she found it glowing with fire and candle light. -Her father had come in from the wet fields and -the sheepfolds, and was waiting to give her a -welcome. Red curtains shut out the foggy -evening; red lights danced on the well-spread -table. The baby, lying open-eyed on Helen’s -lap, had its thumb in its mouth, and seemed -disposed for quiet contemplation. The black -retriever, stretched upon the hearth-rug, had -finished a hard day’s barking, and was taking -his well-earned repose.</p> - -<p>They gave her the best chair and the -warmest seat. All that household love could -do was done; and she began to thaw a little -under its influence.</p> - -<p>Once or twice Helen tried to introduce the -subject of her troubles, but the farmer and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -wife quietly put it aside. Rhoda had made no -secret of her resentment. There were many -other things to be told; little episodes in village -lives; little stories of neighbours and friends. -The talk flowed on like a woodland stream that -glides over this obstacle and under that. It -was threading a difficult and intricate way, but -it kept on flowing, till night broke up the family -group.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="faux" title = "CHAPTER II. BROTHER AND SISTER.—RHODA FARREN PERPLEXED.">CHAPTER <abbr title="2">II.</abbr></h2> - -<p class="faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="2">II.</abbr></p> - -<p class="chapter_name">BROTHER AND SISTER.—RHODA FARREN -PERPLEXED.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">The</span> father and mother retired first, then Helen. -John seated himself in the farmer’s large arm-chair, -and looked at Rhoda as she sat on the -other side of the fire. These after-supper talks -had been a custom with them in the old days. -The sister knew by her brother’s glance that he -understood her mood, and was prepared for a -long chat.</p> - -<p>It is a trying thing for a woman that a man -will seldom begin a subject, however full his -heart may be of it. He will wait, with indomitable -patience, until she speaks the first word, -and after that he will go on glibly enough. -Rhoda first learned to understand something of -man’s nature by studying John, and she knew -perfectly well that she should never get a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -sentence out of him unless she broke the -silence.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she said at last, with a little movement -of impatience, “this is a miserable business. -I never thought that I should come back -to the old home and find the wife and child of -a felon comfortably settled in it. But there is -no end to sin—no limit to the audacity of -criminals. It is not enough for Robert Clarris -to rob his employer, he must also thrust his own -lawful burdens on other folks’ shoulders.”</p> - -<p>“When one commits a crime,” replied John -gravely, “one never foresees what it entails. -When Clarris found that discovery was inevitable, -he came home to his wife and asked her -to fly with him. But she would not go——”</p> - -<p>“How could she go?” interrupted Rhoda indignantly. -“Think of her condition, and of the -misery and disgrace of following his fortunes. -He is a base man indeed.”</p> - -<p>John moved uneasily in his chair, and kept -his eyes fixed on the burning log in the grate. -More than once his lips opened and shut again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I suppose you’ll be very hard on me,” he -said at length, “if I own that I’ve a sort of -tenderness for this poor sinner. I don’t mean -to make light of his crime, but I believe that -when he took the money he intended to pay it -back.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, John,” said Rhoda severely, “I am -really ashamed of you! What has come to -your moral perceptions? There is a saying that -the way to hell is paved with good intentions;—of -course this man will try to excuse himself. -The world has got into a habit of petting its -criminals, and it is one of the worst signs of the -times. As Mrs. Elton used to say, it would be -well if we could have the good old days back -again!”</p> - -<p>“The good old days when men were hung -for sheep-stealing, and starving women were -sentenced to death for taking a loaf!” retorted -John with unusual heat. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>“How I hate to hear -that cant about the good old days! And when -the gallows and the pillory and the stocks -were so busy, did they stop the Mohawks in -their fiendish pranks at night? or did they -put down the Gordon riots till the mob had -begun to sack and pillage London? I am glad -the world is changed, and I hope it will go on -changing.”</p> - -<p>“If we change from over-severity to over-mercy, -we shall just have to go back to over-severity -again,” replied Rhoda.</p> - -<p>“No, Rhoda,” he said more calmly. “By -that time we shall have got to the days ‘when -the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the -Lord as the waters cover the seas.’”</p> - -<p>Rhoda looked at her brother and wondered. -These were strange words to hear from a young -man living in a Hampshire village, where everything -seemed to be standing still. There was -no more talk that night. It was evident to -Rhoda that John had shot ahead of her in the -road of life. Not being able to say whether he -were in a bad way or a good way, she said -nothing and went to bed.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title ="CHAPTER III. A SPARED LIFE.—NEWS FROM ROBERT CLARRIS.">CHAPTER <abbr title="3">III.</abbr></h2> - -<p class="faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="3">III.</abbr></p> - -<p class="chapter_name">A SPARED LIFE.—NEWS FROM ROBERT -CLARRIS.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">A great</span> sorrow is like a mountain in our way: -we must either climb to its top, or lie grovelling -at its base. If we grovel, the path of life is -blocked up for ever, and the shadow of our -misery is upon us night and day. If we climb, -we shall find purer air and fairer regions. -Heaven will be nearer to us, the world will lie -beneath our feet;—we shall bless God for the -trial that has lifted us so high above our old -selves. We shall comprehend a little of the -vast Love that reared the mountain;—ay, we -shall break forth into singing, “Thou, Lord, of -Thy goodness, hast made my hill so strong!”</p> - -<p>It was clear that Helen would never climb -her mountain. In the old days, although she -was three years older than her cousin, Rhoda<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -had found out that nothing would ever lift her -above the dead level of life. Always beautiful, -always common-place, always a little sly—such -were her childish characteristics, and they were -unaltered by time. Her beauty was of that -kind which inevitably gives a false impression. -Every smile was a poem; every glance seemed -to tell of thoughts too deep for words. She -was the very impersonation of the German Elle-maid—as -hollow a piece of loveliness as ever -sat by the roadside in the old <span lang = "de" xml:lang="de">Schwarzwald</span>, -and lured unwary travellers to accept the fatal -goblet or kiss.</p> - -<p>When she said, tearfully, that Robert Clarris -had fallen in love at their first interview, and -would not rest till he had married her, Rhoda -knew that she spoke the simple truth. No one -who looked into the eloquent brown eyes, and -watched the play of the sweet lips, could marvel -at Robert’s impetuosity. One could understand -how that fair face had drawn out the old -Samson cry, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>“Get her for me, for she pleaseth -me well.”</p> - -<p>“I might have done far better, Rhoda,” she -said, plaintively; “but I had a hard situation, -and I wanted to get out of it. You don’t know -the misery of being nursery governess. One is -just like the bat in the fable, neither a bird -nor a beast—neither a lady nor a servant. The -position is bad enough for an ugly girl; but it -is ten times worse for a pretty one.”</p> - -<p>No one could blame Helen for speaking of -her beauty as an established fact.</p> - -<p>“When I was married to Robert,” she continued, -“I soon began to be disappointed in -him. There was an end to all the nice little -attentions. I was almost his goddess until I -became his wife.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s a very old story,” responded -Rhoda. “Lovers are just like our old apple -trees; one would think to see the quantity of -blossom that there would be a deal of fruit; -but there never is. Great promise and small -fulfilment—that’s always the case with men.”</p> - -<p>“He was dreadfully stingy,” went on Helen. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>“He worried me sadly about my expenses. I -was not allowed enough money to keep myself -decently dressed. I think he liked to see me -shabby.”</p> - -<p>“You are wearing a very good dress at this -moment,” remarked Rhoda.</p> - -<p>“Yes, this is well enough,” answered her -cousin, colouring slightly. “I was obliged to -get things without his leave sometimes, or I -should have looked like a scarecrow. Robert -would never believe that I wanted any clothes.”</p> - -<p>“What did he do with the money that he -stole?” Rhoda asked abruptly.</p> - -<p>“How should I know?” sighed Helen. “He -never gave a shilling of it to me. One day he -came home and told me, quite suddenly, that -his sin must be discovered. I thought that he -was crazed, and when I found that he was in -his right mind, I nearly lost my senses. Never -get married, Rhoda; take my advice, and be a -single woman. It’s the only way to keep out -of misery.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not thinking of marrying, Helen,” replied -Rhoda, rather sharply; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>“but every marriage -is not such a mistake as yours has been. -God knew what He was about, I suppose, when -He brought Adam and Eve together. There’s -little sense in abusing a good road just because -you couldn’t walk upright on it.”</p> - -<p>“You would not have found it easy to walk -with Robert,” said Helen, mournfully. “And -now he has gone off, and has left me sticking -in the mire! It’s worse than being a widow.”</p> - -<p>Rhoda melted at once at the thought of -Helen’s desolate condition.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he may really get on in Australia,” -she rejoined, trying to speak hopefully; “and -then he may send for you and the child.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I hope not!” returned Helen, with a -little start. “If he gets on, he will send home -money for us; but I do not want to live with -him again.”</p> - -<p>There can be no separation so utter and -hopeless as that which parts two who have -been made one. The closer the union, the -more complete is the disunion. Even at that -moment, when Rhoda’s wrath was hot against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -Robert Clarris, she was struck with Helen’s -entire lack of wifely feeling. She could almost -have pitied the man who had so thoroughly -alienated the mother of his child. And then -she reflected that this dread of reunion on -Helen’s part told fearfully against him. Helen -was weak, but was she not also gentle and -affectionate? Better, indeed, was it for them -to keep asunder until another life should -present each to the other under a new aspect.</p> - -<p>She did not pursue the subject further. -With a sudden desire to be away from Helen -and her troubles, she wrapped herself in a -thick shawl, and went up the fields that rose -behind the cottage. On the highest land the -farmer was mending a fence. She could hear -the strokes of his mallet as he drove the -stakes into the ground.</p> - -<p>As Rhoda drew near, she stood still and -looked at him—a hale, handsome man, whose -face, fringed by an iron-grey beard, was like -a rosy russet apple set in grey lichen. His -smock-frock showed white against the dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -background of brown trees. The air was so -quiet that one could listen to his breathing -as his strong arms dealt the sturdy blows.</p> - -<p>She was proud of him as she stood there -in the wide field watching him unseen. He -would leave her nothing save the legacy of -an unstained name, but the worth thereof was -far above rubies. No one would sneer at her -as the daughter of a disgraced man. No -one would whisper, “She comes of a bad -stock; take heed how you trust her.” Many -a rogue has wriggled out of well-earned -punishment with the aid of his sire’s good -name. Many an honest Christian has gone -groaning through life under the burden of a -parent’s evil reputation.</p> - -<p>With this pride in him Rhoda was unconsciously -blending a pride in herself. “Some -eyes,” she thought, “are too blind to see their -blessings; I am quick of sight. The Author -and Giver of all good things finds in me a -grateful receiver.”</p> - -<p>Thus she loudly echoed the Pharisee’s cry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -“Lord, I thank Thee that I am not as other -men.” And never, perhaps, is the Divine -patience so severely tried as when that self-complacent -voice is heard. How sweet in -Christ’s ears must be those other voices—stealing -up to Him through the egotist’s loveless -<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Te Deum</i>—breathing the publican’s old -prayer, “God be merciful to me a sinner!”</p> - -<p>It was a day of sober brightness. A white -mist had risen above the western slopes, and -the setting sun shone through it. Brown -furrows had begun to take a rich auburn -tinge; tree-shadows crept farther and farther -across the green sod; crows flew heavily -homewards. From the wet thickets came the -old fresh ferny scents, sweetening the calm -air. The mallet blows ceased; the farmer -had ended his task, and turned towards his -daughter.</p> - -<p>“You are not sorry to get back to our -fields, Rhoda?” he said. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>“You’ll see the -primroses showing their pretty faces by-and-by. -Ah, it seems but yesterday that you -and Helen were filling your pinafores with -them!”</p> - -<p>“Helen’s winter has come before its time, -father,” answered Miss Farren, gravely. “Her -wicked husband has made her life desolate.”</p> - -<p>“And his own too,” added the farmer, in a -pitying tone.</p> - -<p>“That is as it should be,” returned Rhoda, -quickly. “He has escaped the punishment -he merited; but there’s satisfaction in knowing -that God’s justice will surely reach him.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” murmured the farmer softly, “God’s -mercy will surely reach him.”</p> - -<p>“God’s favour is for those who walk uprightly,” -said Rhoda.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Rhoda, the mercy is granted before -they learn to walk uprightly,” replied her -father. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>“It comes to those who have fallen -and are ready to perish. There are few of -us who can see ourselves in every criminal, as -old Baxter did. And there are fewer still who -can believe that a man may come out of the -Slough of Despond cleaner than he went in.”</p> - -<p>They turned towards the house, walking -silently down the green slopes. Rhoda was -angry and perplexed; what was the use of -living a respectable life if sinners were to be -highly esteemed? When she spoke again it -was in a harsh tone.</p> - -<p>“Robert Clarris has found defenders, it -seems! A man who has committed such a -crime as his should scarcely be so lightly -forgiven!”</p> - -<p>“There is one thing I’d have you remember, -Rhoda,” said the farmer, patiently, “and that -is, the difference between falling into sin and -living in sin. It’s just the difference between -the man who loves and hugs his disease and -he who writhes under it, and longs to be cured.”</p> - -<p>“Even supposing that this is Robert’s first -fault,” continued Miss Farren, “there must -have been a long course of unsteady walking -before such a fall could be brought about.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe not,” her father responded. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>“Some -men lose their characters, Rhoda, as others -lose their lives, by being off their guard for -one moment. And when you talk of God’s -justice, recollect that it means something very -different from man’s judgment. The Lord -hates the sin worse than we do, but He knows -what we can never know—the strength of the -temptation.”</p> - -<p>By that time the pair had descended the -last slope, and were drawing near the cottage. -The back-door stood open. Rhoda could see -the red glow of the kitchen fire, and the outline -of her mother’s figure as she moved to -and fro. It was a pleasant glimpse of household -warmth and light, and it charmed her -ill temper away. But she did not remember -that there might be wanderers in the world -at that moment—driven out into life’s wilderness -by sin—whose hearts would well-nigh -break at this little glimpse of a home. She -did not think of that awful sense of loss which -crime must leave behind it. Perhaps that -open house-door had suggested thoughts like -these to the farmer, for he paused before they -entered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Rhoda,” he said, solemnly, “never fall into -the mistake of thinking that sinners aren’t -punished enough. It’s a very common blunder. -Many a man might have hanged himself, as -Judas did, if Christ hadn’t stepped in and -shown him what the atonement is. It is to -the Davids and Peters and Sauls that He -says, ‘Where sin abounded, grace did much -more abound.’”</p> - -<p>November came to an end. December set -in with biting winds and gloomy skies, and -then followed a sharp, wintry Christmas.</p> - -<p>It was a hard time for the birds. Rhoda -would sit at the window and watch them -congregating on the brier-bush in the corner -of the garden. Now it was a plump thrush, -puffing out its speckled breast, and feasting -on the scarlet hips; now it was a blackbird, -with dusky plumage and yellow bill. Then -a score of finches and sparrows would alight -on the frozen snow, and quarrel over the -crumbs that she had scattered there. All day -the sky was grey and clear; but sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -at sunset, a flush would rest upon the white -fields, tinting them with the delicate pink of -half-opened apple-blossoms.</p> - -<p>On Christmas Eve, Rhoda Farren sat watching -the hungry birds no longer. A little -human life was drawing very near to immortality. -The baby—Helen’s wee, fragile baby—was -hovering between two worlds.</p> - -<p>And then, for the first time, all Rhoda’s -sleeping instincts started up, awake and strong. -Anger and selfishness were alike forgotten. -Let the solemn feet of death be heard upon -the threshold of the house, and all the petty -wranglings of its inmates are stilled. He was -coming—“the angel with the amaranthine -wreath”—but Rhoda held the little one in -her arms, and prayed the Father to shut the -door against him.</p> - -<p>We know not what we ask when we pray -for a child’s life. We are pleading with the -Good Shepherd that He will leave a little -lamb in the wilderness instead of taking it -into the fold. We are asking that it may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -tread the long, toilsome way home, instead of -the short, smooth path that leads straight to -rest. Surely our Lord never loves us better -than when He says nay to such prayers as -these. When we become even as they—the -little children—and enter into the kingdom, -we shall understand the infinite compassion -of His denial.</p> - -<p>Christmas night closed in; and outside the -cottage, the mummers, gay in patchwork and -ribbons, clashed their tin swords, and sang their -foolish rhymes. John went out and entreated -them to go away. A glance through the open -door showed Rhoda the clear, broad moonlight, -shining over the snow-waste, and she heard the -subdued voices of the men as they went off -to some happier house. Then the door closed -again, and she saw nothing but the little child’s -wan face.</p> - -<p>“If it were taken,” she thought, “they should -all feel something as the shepherds did when -‘the angels were gone away from them into -heaven.’” Even she had begun to realize that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -a babe is indeed God’s angel in a household. -Often, like those Christmas angels, it stays -just long enough to be the messenger of peace -and good-will, and then returns to Him who -sent it. Like them, it leaves us without an -earth-stain on its vesture; without a regret for -the world from which it is so soon withdrawn.</p> - -<p>But Helen’s little one was to remain. The -household rejoiced, and Rhoda learnt to recognise -herself in a new character. She became -the baby’s head-nurse and most devoted slave.</p> - -<p>“Was there ever such a child?” she asked, -as it gained strength and beauty. “It will be -as pretty as Helen by-and-by.”</p> - -<p>“It has a look of Robert,” said the farmer, -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>Rhoda’s smiles fled. She wanted to forget -the relationship between that man and her -darling. Nor was she without a fear that it -might have inherited some touch of his evil -nature. Her heart never softened towards him -because he was the father of the child. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -yet how much richer her life had grown since -she had taken the baby into it!</p> - -<p>The snow lay long upon the ground. It was -so lengthened a winter, that spring seemed to -come suddenly. There was a burst of primroses -on the borders of the fields. They lit up -shady places with their pale yellow stars, and -spread themselves out in sheets. Every puff -of wind was sweet with the breath of violets; -birds sang their old carols—now two or three -clear notes—now a shake—then a long whistle. -All God’s works praised Him in the freshness -of their new life. Old dry stumps, that Rhoda -had thought dead and useless, began to put -forth green shoots. The earth teemed with -surprises; all around there was a continual -assertion of vitality. And so hard is it to -distinguish the barrenness of winter from the -barrenness of death, that every spring has its -seeming miracles. The tree that our impatient -hands had well-nigh hewn down may be our -sweetest shelter in the heat of summer noontide.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> - -<p>Not until the high winds had sent the blossoms -drifting over the orchards like a second -snowfall, did there come news of Helen’s husband.</p> - -<p>The tidings came through Mr. Elton. Clarris -had written to him, enclosing a letter for his -wife. He had also sent notes to the amount -of forty pounds to his former employer. From -time to time he promised money should be -forwarded until the whole sum that he had -taken was restored.</p> - -<p>“I believe,” wrote Mr. Elton to the farmer, -“that he will keep his word. He does not, he -declares, hope to wipe out his sin by this -restitution. ‘I am not one whit better than -any other criminal,’ he writes, ‘but I have been -more leniently dealt with than most of my -brethren. God’s mercy, acting through you, -has done much for me.’”</p> - -<p>Helen did not show Rhoda the letter that -had been received. She was paler and sadder -after reading it, but she said nothing about its -contents. Rhoda took the child in her arms,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -leaving its mother sitting in silence, and went -out into the garden.</p> - -<p>The wild winds had sunk to rest. A light -shower had fallen in the early morning, beating -out the sweetness of the new-born roses, and -the long, soft grass. The old walks glittered -and twinkled in the sunshine. The sky was -radiantly blue, and the clouds were fair.</p> - -<p>“After all,” thought Rhoda, looking upward -with a sudden lifting of the spirit, “heaven is -full of forgiven sinners!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class = "faux" title ="CHAPTER IV. AN INVITATION FROM SQUIRE DERRICK." >CHAPTER <abbr title="4">IV.</abbr></h2> - -<p class="faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="4">IV.</abbr></p> - -<p class="chapter_name">AN INVITATION FROM SQUIRE DERRICK.</p> - -<p><span class = "smcap">As</span> the summer advanced, Helen’s spirits rose. -She was not the pale, plaintive woman that -Rhoda had found on her return from London. -Her beauty brightened visibly, and more than -one neighbour remarked that it was a sin and -a shame for such a pretty creature to be tied -up to a man who was nothing but a cross to -her.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Helen herself was of the same -opinion. The baby was given up more and -more to Rhoda’s care, while its mother went -freely to the villagers’ houses. She was one of -those women to whom admiration is as necessary -as their daily food. Her pleasure in her -own loveliness amused while it saddened her -cousin. There was something in it that seemed -akin to the delight of a child in its fine clothes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -Helen’s mind had never grown with her body. -But Rhoda and the others had got into the -habit of viewing her weaknesses indulgently. -And they gratified the little fancies that were, -as a rule, harmless enough.</p> - -<p>They had their first disagreement at the end -of August. There was an early harvest that -year. In the southern counties most of the -wheat was cut and stacked before September -set in. The crops were plentiful, and there -was rejoicing on all sides. But it was not -always the right kind of rejoicing.</p> - -<p>“It’s a strange way that some folks have -got of thanking the Lord of the harvest,” -remarked Farmer Farren one day. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>“He gives -them bread enough to satisfy all their wants, -and they must needs show their gratitude by -stupefying themselves with beer! I used to -think, when I was a lad, that ’twas an odd -thing for King David to go a-dancing before -the Almighty with all his might. But there’s -more sense in dancing than in drinking for -joy.”</p> - -<p>Father and daughter stood side by side, -leaning against the garden wall; for it was -evening, and the farmer’s work was done. -Just before he spoke, some drunken shouts -disturbed the quiet air. Labourers were roystering -in the village tavern, and many a wife’s -temper was sorely tried that night.</p> - -<p>“O Uncle, I am glad you don’t think it’s -wrong to dance!” cried Helen, coming suddenly -out of the house. “Here’s good news! -Squire Derrick is going to give a feast in his -park next Friday. I know that John can’t go, -because of his sprained ankle; but William -Gill will drive us to the park in his <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">chaise</span>. -There’ll be room for Rhoda and me and Mrs. -Gill.”</p> - -<p>“But, Helen, I don’t go to merry-makings,” -said Rhoda, gravely. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>“We have never taken -part in anything of that kind. And as to -father’s remark, King David’s sort of dancing -was very different from the waltzes and polkas -and <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">galops</span> that there will be on Friday -night.”</p> - -<p>Helen’s face clouded like that of a disappointed -child.</p> - -<p>“O Uncle, would there be any harm in my -dancing?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“No harm exactly, my girl,” responded the -farmer uneasily, as he picked a piece of dry -moss off the wall. “But even when things -are lawful, they are not always expedient. -You are a married woman, you see, and your -husband’s under a cloud, and miles away—poor -fellow!”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” sighed Helen, “I’m always doomed -to suffer for his sins! I thought that perhaps -a little bit of fun would help me to forget -my troubles.”</p> - -<p>Poor Helen was still grovelling at the foot -of her mountain.</p> - -<p>Large tears stood in her soft eyes. The -farmer gave her a quick glance, then looked -away, and busied himself with the little -cushion of moss that still lay in his broad -palm. At heart he was more than half a -Puritan, and hated jigs and feastings as lustily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -as did the Gideons and Grace-be-heres of -Cromwell’s day. But he was far too tender-natured -a man to bear the sight of a woman’s -tears.</p> - -<p>But for that unfortunate allusion which her -father had made to Robert Clarris, Rhoda -would have set her face as a flint against -going to the <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">fête</span>. But his tone of pity -stirred up all her old resentment. Why was -this young wife, lovely and foolish, left without -her lawful protector? Had she not said -truly that she was doomed to suffer for his -sins? After all, it was scarcely her fault, -perhaps, that she was not elevated by her -trial. To “erect ourselves above ourselves” -is a bliss that we do not all reach. And it -is a bliss which bears such a close relationship -to pain, that one has no right to be -hard on a fellow-mortal who chooses the lower -ground.</p> - -<p>Thoughts like these were passing through -Rhoda’s mind, while Helen still wept silently. -But it did not occur to Miss Farren that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -truest kindness that can be done to another -is to raise him. She forgot that it is better -to stretch out a hand and say, “Friend, come -up higher,” than to step down to his level. -At that moment she thought only of pacifying -Helen. Of late her cousin had grown very -dear to her, partly, perhaps, for the sake of -her little child. Her whole soul recoiled from -the harvest-feast. She hated the clownish -merriment, and the dancing and drinking; -and yet, to please Helen, she was willing to -endure much that was distasteful.</p> - -<p>“If you would promise not to dance, -Helen,” she began, hesitatingly. Her father -looked up in undisguised astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Why, Rhoda,” he said, “I didn’t think -anything in the world would have made you -go!”</p> - -<p>“O Rhoda, how good of you to give way!” -cried Helen, brightening. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>“Of course I’ll -promise. It’s just like her, Uncle: she was -always the most unselfish girl on earth! She -doesn’t despise me because I’m weak-minded, -and like a little bit of pleasure. Ah, how -kind she is!”</p> - -<p>The farmer said no more. He had a great -reverence for his daughter, and would not -take the matter out of her hands. But he -went indoors with a grave face; and Helen -followed him in a flutter of delight.</p> - -<p>As Rhoda lingered that evening in the -dewy twilight, she began to charge herself -with cowardice. It would have been hard to -have held out against Helen’s desires. And -yet—for Helen’s own sake—ought she not to -have been firm? Most of us suffer if we -stifle our instincts; and hers had told her -that this feast was no place for her cousin.</p> - -<p>“It shall be the last time that I am weak,” -she thought, hoping to atone for the present -by the future. “I will let her have her way -this once, and then I will set myself to guide -her in a better path.”</p> - -<p>The grey, transparent veil of dusk stole -down, and the clear stars shone through it. -A little wind came creeping up the garden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -like a human sigh. One or two white moths -flitted past, and a bird uttered a sleepy, -smothered note. For a minute she loitered -in the porch, listening to the pleasant, household -stir within. Helen’s laugh mingled -with John’s cheery tones and the clatter of -supper-plates.</p> - -<p>“Where is Rhoda?” she heard her mother -say.</p> - -<p>The jessamine, which grew all over the -porch, swung its slender sprays into her face. -The sweet, chill blossoms kissed her lips as -she passed beneath them; but she went -indoors with an unquiet mind.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class= "faux" title = "CHAPTER V. HELEN UNDER A NEW ASPECT.">CHAPTER <abbr title="5">V.</abbr></h2> - -<p class="faux_h"> CHAPTER <abbr title="5">V.</abbr></p> - -<p class="chapter_name">HELEN UNDER A NEW ASPECT.</p> - -<p><span class = "smcap">On</span> Friday afternoon, Helen’s chamber-door -chanced to be left open, and Rhoda caught -a glimpse of a delicate silk dress lying on -the bed. She went straight into the room -and examined it. Bodice and sleeves were -trimmed profusely with costly lace; the rich -lilac folds might have stood alone, so thick -was the texture. It was not the sort of dress -that should have belonged to the wife of a -merchant’s clerk. Rhoda was perplexed.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it handsome!” asked Helen’s voice -behind her.</p> - -<p>“I hope you are not thinking of wearing -it this evening,” said Rhoda. “It’s a most -unsuitable dress for a country merry-making. -Do put on something plainer, Helen.”</p> - -<p>“O Rhoda,” she pleaded, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>“I am not like -you; I can’t abide browns and greys! I want -to be dressed as the flowers are! You loved -the lilacs when they were in bloom; why -may I not copy them?”</p> - -<p>“Their dress costs nothing,” said Rhoda, -“and the silk is a poor imitation of them. -Even Solomon in all his glory wasn’t arrayed -like the lilies of the field. This gown must -have been very expensive, Helen.”</p> - -<p>“It is the best I have,” answered Helen, -flushing slightly. “I should like to give it -an airing, Rhoda. I own I am fond of fine -clothes, but you are so kind that you won’t -be angry with a poor silly thing like me!”</p> - -<p>Again Rhoda’s strength was no match for -her cousin’s weakness. She went out of the -room without saying another word about the -lilac silk. An hour or two later William Gill’s -<span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">chaise</span> stopped at the gate, and Helen came -downstairs. She was enveloped in a large -cloak which completely hid her dress from -the eyes of her uncle and aunt. Her face -was flushed; she was in high spirits. William<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -Gill—a prosperous young farmer—looked -sheepishly pleased as she seated herself by his -side.</p> - -<p>Rhoda sat on the back seat with Mrs. Gill. -It was a still, sultry evening. The languor -of the waning summer seemed to have stolen -upon her unawares, and the good woman -found her a dull companion. Mrs. Gill was -proud of her son, proud of his fine horse, a -fiery young chestnut, proud of the <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">chaise</span>, -which had been newly painted and varnished. -But these subjects had little interest for Miss -Farren. And the worthy matron became convinced -that she was giving herself airs on the -strength of her annuity. By the time they had -reached the foot of Huntsdean hill, she was -as silent as Rhoda could desire.</p> - -<p>The church clock was striking seven as -they turned in at the gates of Dykeley Park. -Groups of people were scattered about under -the trees. The hall door of Dykeley House -stood open, and the sound of music swept -forth into the evening air. Out of doors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -there was the crimson of sunset staining the -skies, reddening the faces of the countryfolk, -and lighting up the west front of the old -mansion, till its red bricks seemed to burn -among the dark ivy and overblown white -roses. Quiet pools, lying here and there about -the park, glittered as if the old Cana miracle -had been wrought upon them, and their -waters were changed to wine. The colour -was too intense, too fiery. It made Rhoda -think of burning cities, or of the glare of -beacons, blazing up to warn the land that the -foe had crossed the border.</p> - -<p>Squire Derrick’s old banqueting hall had -been cleared out for the dancers. The squire -himself, a bachelor of sixty, received his guests -as Sir Roger de Coverley might have done. -Rhoda saw his eyes rest on beautiful Helen -in the lilac silk, and his glance followed her -wonderingly as she went sweeping away to a -distant part of the great room. Other looks -followed her too.</p> - -<p>Nor could Rhoda keep her own gaze from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -dwelling on her companion. When the long -cloak had been laid aside, and Helen appeared -in the lighted room, her cousin could hardly -restrain an exclamation. There were jewels -on her wrists and bosom, jewels on the white -fingers that flashed when she took off her -gloves to display them. A miserable sense of -shame and confusion overwhelmed Miss Farren. -Here was Helen bedizened like a Begum, and -here were many of the Huntsdean folk who -knew her husband’s story! The air seemed -full of whispers. Rhoda grew hot beneath -the broad stare of eyes. Yet few glanced at -her; the brown wren, reluctantly perched -beside the glittering peacock, was sheltered -from observation.</p> - -<p>The musicians struck up a lively tune, and -then Rhoda saw that there were several gay -young officers in the room. They had come, -by the squire’s invitation, from the neighbouring -garrison town, and were evidently prepared -to enjoy themselves.</p> - -<p>She was scarcely surprised to see two or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -three of them bearing down upon Helen, bent -on securing her for a partner. She heard -their entreaties, and Helen’s denials—very -prettily uttered. But at that moment an old -friend of Farmer Farren’s crossed the room, -and gave Rhoda a hearty greeting. Then -followed a score of questions about herself -and her parents, and in the midst of them -Rhoda heard Helen’s voice saying—</p> - -<p>“Only one dance, Rhoda; you’ll forgive me, -I know.”</p> - -<p>Rhoda started, and half rose from her seat. -Such a distressed and angry look crossed her -face that the old farmer was astonished. -Helen had gone off on her partner’s arm. It -was too late to call her back. She must take -it as quietly as she could, and avoid making -a scene.</p> - -<p>“Who is that lovely young woman? Any -relation of yours, Miss Farren?” asked the old -man by her side.</p> - -<p>“My cousin,” Rhoda answered.</p> - -<p>Several persons near were listening for her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -reply. Rhoda hoped that her questioner would -drop the subject, but he did not.</p> - -<p>“Let me see; didn’t I know her when she -was a child in your father’s house?”</p> - -<p>“Very likely,” Rhoda said. “She used to -live with us when she was a little girl.”</p> - -<p>“And did I hear that she had married?” -he persisted.</p> - -<p>“She is married,” said Rhoda, desperately. -“Her husband is in Australia.”</p> - -<p>Obtuse as he was, the old gentleman could -yet perceive that he had touched upon an -awkward topic. Poor Rhoda was a bad actress. -Her face always betrayed her feelings. She -sat bolt upright against the wall, looking so -intensely uncomfortable that her companion -quitted her in dismay.</p> - -<p>There she remained for three long hours; -sometimes catching a glimpse of the lilac silk -among the dancers. From fragments of talk -that went on around her, she learned that -Helen was the centre of attention. And at last, -when a <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">galop</span> was over, and the groups parted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -to left and right, she caught sight of her cousin -surrounded by the officers.</p> - -<p>She now saw Helen under a new aspect. -Her looks and gestures were those of a practised -coquette, who had spent half her life in -ball-rooms. People were looking on—smiling, -whispering, wondering. The squire himself was -evidently amused and astonished. Even if she -had been less beautiful, Helen’s dress and -jewellery would have attracted general notice. -It was, perhaps, the most miserable evening -that Rhoda had ever passed. “Am I my -brother’s keeper?” was the question that she -asked herself a hundred times. Was she indeed -to blame for suffering Helen to come to -this place? The music and dancing and flattering -speeches had fired Helen’s blood like -wine. The gaiety that would have been innocuous -to many was poisonous to her.</p> - -<p>At last a loud gong sounded the summons -to supper. The repast was spread in a large -tent which had been erected in the park. Out -swept the crowd into the balmy August night,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -Helen still clinging to the arm of her last -partner, and carefully avoiding a glance in her -cousin’s direction. Rhoda strove in vain to get -nearer to her; the press was too great. But -she contrived to reach William Gill, and to say -to him earnestly—</p> - -<p>“We must go away as soon as supper is over, -Mr. Gill. I promised father that we would come -back early.” The moon had risen, large and -red, and the night was perfectly still. Chinese -lanterns illuminated the great supper-tent from -end to end. Flowers and evergreens, mingled -with wheat ears, decorated the long tables. -The light fell on rows of flushed and smiling -faces. Rhoda, pale and sad, sat down on the -end of a bench close to the tent entrance.</p> - -<p>“I’m ’most worn out,” said Mrs. Gill’s voice -beside her. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>“I’m downright glad that you’re -for going home early, Miss Farren. Old women -like me are better a-bed than a-junketing at -this time o’ night! Mercy on us, how your -cousin <em>has</em> been a-going on, my dear! And -brought up so strict too!”</p> - -<p>The words cut Rhoda like a knife. There -she sat, lonely and miserable, amid a merry -crowd. The golden moonshine flooded the -park, and the sweet air kissed her face as she -turned it wearily towards the tent-entrance. -Once a sudden rush of perfume came in and -overwhelmed her. It was the breath of the fast -fading roses that hung in white clusters about -the squire’s windows, and shed their petals on -the ground below.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - -<div class = "chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER VI. “THE MASTER IS COME, AND CALLETH FOR THEE.”">CHAPTER <abbr title="6">VI.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h"> CHAPTER <abbr title="6">VI.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">“THE MASTER IS COME, AND CALLETH FOR -THEE.”</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">Rhoda</span> seized upon her cousin as she was -passing out of the tent. She was resolved that -Helen should not go back to the dancing-room. -What was done could not be undone. But she -would take her away before the crowd had -begun to disperse.</p> - -<p>“Come, Helen,” she said, “I have your cloak -and hat; you needn’t go into the house again. -Mr. Gill will get the <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">chaise</span> ready at once.”</p> - -<p>“O Rhoda, the fun is only just beginning,” -pleaded Helen. “And I have promised to -dance——”</p> - -<p>“Then you must break the promise. It -won’t be the first that you have broken to-night,” -added Rhoda, sharply.</p> - -<p>She wrapped Helen in her cloak, and tied her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -bonnet strings with her own hands. As they -stood there, in the strange mingling of lamplight -and moonlight, she could see that the -lovely face looked half-frightened and half-mutinous. -In an instant Rhoda repented of -her momentary harshness; somehow she had -never loved Helen better than she did at that -instant.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry to spoil your pleasure, darling,” -she whispered; “but what will the father say -if we are late?”</p> - -<p>Helen’s brow cleared. Without a word she -walked straight to the place where the <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">chaise</span> -was standing, and climbed up into her seat. -William Gill, assisted by one of the squire’s -stable helpers, proceeded to harness the chestnut -horse, and in a few moments more they had -driven out of the park.</p> - -<p>It was such a relief to Rhoda to be going -homewards, that for some moments she could -think of nothing else. The cool night air -soothed and refreshed her. The rattle of wheels -and the quick tramp of hoofs were the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -sounds that broke the silence. Cottages by the -wayside were dark and still. The firs that bordered -the road stood up rugged and black; not -a tree-top rocked, not a branch rustled. The -level highway was barred with deep shadows -here and there. Overhead there was a soft, -purple sky, and the moon hung like a globe of -gold above the faintly outlined hills.</p> - -<p>As they drew near the end of the three-mile -drive, Rhoda’s troubled thoughts came flocking -back. All Huntsdean and Dykeley would be -talking of Helen Clarris to-morrow. Her dress, -her jewels, her levity, would give the tongues of -the gossips plenty of work for months to come. -The Farrens were a proud family in their way. -They were over-sensitive—as such people always -are—and hated to be talked about. -Rhoda knew that the village chatter could not -fail to reach her father’s ears, and she knew, too, -that it would vex him more than he would care -to say. As Mrs. Gill had said, Helen had been -strictly brought up. She had lived under her -uncle’s roof in her childhood, and had gone to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -school with her cousin. All that had been -done for Rhoda had been also done for her.</p> - -<p>And then the jewels. Little as Miss Farren -knew of the worth of such things, she had felt -sure that they were of considerable value. -Moreover, they were new and fashionable, and -could not be mistaken for family heirlooms. -Had Robert Clarris purchased them in his -doting fondness for his wife? Were they love-gifts -made soon after their marriage? Anyhow, -Helen ought not to retain them. It was -plainly her duty to dispose of them, and send the -proceeds to Mr. Elton. Rhoda determined to -speak to her about this matter on the morrow.</p> - -<p>Just as she had formed this resolution, they -turned out of the highway and entered the lane -leading to Huntsdean. The road dipped suddenly; -a sharp hill, overshadowed by trees, led -into the village.</p> - -<p>“Nearly home,” said Mrs. Gill, rousing herself -from a doze. The words had hardly passed -her lips, when the chestnut horse started forward -with a mad bound. It might have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -that William Gill’s brain was confused with the -squire’s strong ale. A buckle had been carelessly -fastened, and had given way. The -horse’s flanks were scourged and stung by the -flapping strap. There was a wild plunge into -the darkness of the lane, a terrible swaying -from side to side, and then a jerk and a crash -at the bottom of the hill.</p> - -<p>For a few seconds Rhoda lay half stunned -upon the wet grass and bracken by the wayside. -She rose with a calmness that afterwards -seemed the strangest part of that night’s -history. Mrs. Gill was sitting on the sod -staring around her in a helpless way. The -other two, William and Helen, were stretched -motionless upon the stony road.</p> - -<p>Still with that strange composure which never -lasts long, Rhoda ran to the nearest cottage. -Its windows were closed, and all was silent; -but she beat hard upon the door with her -clenched hands. A voice called to her from -within, but she never ceased knocking until a -labourer came forth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Hoskins,” she said, as the man confronted -her, “my cousin has been thrown out of Farmer -Gill’s <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">chaise</span>. You must come and carry her -home.”</p> - -<p>The man came with her to the foot of the -hill, and lifted Helen in his strong arms. -Other help was forthcoming. The labourer’s -wife had roused her sons, and Mrs. Gill had -collected her scattered senses.</p> - -<p>They were but a quarter of a mile from -home, but the distance seemed interminable -to Rhoda as she sped on to the house. The -familiar way appeared to lengthen as she ran; -and when at last her hand touched the latch -of the garden gate, her firmness suddenly -broke down. She tottered as she reached the -door, and then fell into John’s arms, crying -out that Helen was coming.</p> - -<p>The farmer sat in his large arm-chair. The -Bible lay open on the table before him, for -he had been gathering the old strength and -sweetness from its pages. He had not -guessed that the strength would so soon be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -needed. But it was his way to lay up stores -for days of sorrow, and there was a look of -quiet power in his face that helped those -around him.</p> - -<p>They carried Helen upstairs, and laid her -on her bed. The lilac silk was dusty and -blood-stained, the fragile lace soiled and torn. -With tender hands Rhoda unclasped her -glittering necklace and bracelets; the rings, -too, slipped easily from the slight fingers. -When those gay trinkets were out of sight, -Rhoda’s heart was more at ease. Helen was -their own Helen without them; the jewels -had done their best to make her like a -stranger. There was little to do then but to -wait until the doctor arrived.</p> - -<p>As it will be with the day of the Lord, so -it often is with the day of trouble. It comes -“as a snare.” Frequently, like the stag in the -fable, we are looking for it in the very quarter -from which it never proceeds. It steals upon -us from another direction—suddenly, swiftly, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>“as a thief in the night.”</p> - -<p>But the children of the kingdom are “not -in darkness, that that day should overtake -them as a thief.” They sleep, but their hearts -wake; and there is light in their dwellings. -Let the angels of death or of sorrow come -when they will, they are ready to meet them. -To the watchful and sober souls the Master’s -messengers are never messengers of wrath. -Ay, though they come with dark garments -and veiled faces, they bring some token of -Him who sends them. The garments “smell -of myrrh, aloes, and cassia;” the glory of -celestial love shines through the veil.</p> - -<p>When Helen opened her eyes and looked -round upon them all, they knew that there -was death in her face. They knew it even -before the doctor arrived, and told them the -hard truth. She might linger a day or two -perhaps, just long enough for a leave-taking, -and then she must set forth on her lonely -journey. But how were they to tell her that -she must go?</p> - -<p>“What did the doctor say?” she asked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -faintly, after a long, long silence. The day -was breaking then, but they were still gathered -round her bed—still waiting and watching -with that new, calm patience that is born of -great sorrow.</p> - -<p>“Nelly,” said the farmer, bending his head -down to hers, “‘The Master is come, and -calleth for thee.’ The call is sudden, my dear, -very sudden. But it’s the Master’s voice that -speaks.”</p> - -<p>First there was a startled, distressed look, -but it passed away like a cloud. The brown -eyes were full of eager inquiry.</p> - -<p>“Must it be?” she whispered. “Ah, I see -it must! Oh, I’m not ready—not nearly -ready. There’s so much to be forgiven; if -I could only know that He forgives me, -I wouldn’t want to stay.”</p> - -<p>“Nelly!” answered the farmer in a clearer -tone, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>“the Lord has got love and pardon for -all those who want it. It’s only from those -that don’t want it that He turns away. His -blood has washed out the sins of that great -multitude whom no man can number, and it -will cleanse you too. Do you think He ever -expects to find any of His children who don’t -need washing? Ay, the darker they are in -their own eyes, the fairer they seem in His!”</p> - -<p>As Rhoda listened to her father’s words, -and to her cousin’s low replies, she began to -realize that poor, weak Helen had felt herself -to be a sinner for many a day. She had felt -it, and had tried to forget it. But this was -not the first time that she had heard the -Master’s call, and yearned to follow Him. Yet -the weakness of the flesh had prevailed again -and again, and her feet had gone on stumbling -on the dark mountains. They would never -stumble any more. The great King had come -Himself to guide them over the golden pavement -to the mansion prepared in His Father’s -house.</p> - -<p>All that day Rhoda’s mother was by the -bedside. Rhoda herself went to and fro, now -ministering to the baby’s wants, now hanging -over her cousin’s pillow. Once she stayed out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -of the room for nearly half-an-hour, and on -entering it again, she saw her mother strangely -agitated. Helen’s head was on her aunt’s -bosom, and her pale lips were moving. But -Rhoda could not hear what she said.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 373px;"> -<img src="images/i-088.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="caption">“She tarried with them until the breaking of another day.”—Page 7</p></div> -</div> - -<p>She tarried with them until the breaking -of another day. The sun came up. Shadows -of jessamine sprays were drawn sharply on the -white blind; a glory of golden light fell on -the chamber wall. Towards that light the -dying face was turned. To Rhoda, at that -moment, came a sudden impulse. Clearly and -firmly she repeated the familiar lines that she -and Helen had learnt years ago,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“The wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold thee,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">And sinners may hope, for the Sinless has died.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>For answer, there was a quick, bright smile, -and then the half-breathed word—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class ="verse">“Forgiven.”</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Only an hour later, Rhoda was walking -along the grassy garden-path with Helen’s -child in her arms. Was it yesterday that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -were children playing together? Had ten -years or sixty minutes gone by since she -died? If she had come suddenly out of the -old summer-house among the beeches—a gay, -smiling girl—Rhoda could scarcely have wondered. -There are moments in life when we -put time away from us altogether.</p> - -<p>And yet one had to come back to the -everyday world again—a very fair world on -that morning. Newly-reaped fields lay bare -and glistening in the sun; thistle-down drifted -about in the languid air, and the baby stretched -out her hands to grasp the butterflies. She -looked up, wonderingly, with Helen’s brown -eyes, when Rhoda pressed her to her bosom -and wept.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> - - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER VII. DISPOSING OF HELEN'S JEWELS">CHAPTER <abbr title="7">VII.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="7">VII.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">DISPOSING OF HELEN’S JEWELS.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">A month</span> went by. The household fell back -into its old ways. The little child laughed -and played, and grew dearer and dearer to -them all.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Farren had taken upon herself the -task of looking over Helen’s things. She -performed this duty without any aid from -Rhoda; and not one word did she say about -the jewels. The farmer had written to Australia, -breaking the sad news to Robert Clarris -as gently as he could. How would he receive -it? Rhoda wondered. They had left off speaking -of him in her hearing. They were aware -of all the bitter dislike that she cherished, but -they never sought to soften her heart. They -were content—as the wisest people are—to -leave most things to time. We do not know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -how often we wrong a friend by hotly defending -him, nor how we help an enemy by running -him down.</p> - -<p>Now that Helen was gone, Rhoda was -harassed by a new fear. She dreaded lest -Robert should take away the child.</p> - -<p>It was more than probable that he would -marry again one day. A hard-natured, selfish -man—such as she believed him to be—would -need a wife to slave for him. Then he -would send for Rhoda’s ewe lamb, and there -would be an end to her dream of future -happiness. She did not realize that God seldom -makes us happy in our own way. Blessings, -like crosses, nearly always come from -unexpected quarters. We search for honey in -an empty hive, and find it at last in the carcase -of a dead lion.</p> - -<p>The Gills, mother and son, were little the -worse for that night’s catastrophe. Like all -tragedies, Helen’s death was a nine days’ -wonder. There was plenty of sympathy; -there were condolences from all sides. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -then the excitement died out; the small topics -of daily life resumed their old importance. -And so the time went on.</p> - -<p>At the end of October, the farmer received -a reply to his letter. Rhoda refrained from -asking any questions, and they did not tell her -how the widower had borne the blow. She -saw tears in her mother’s eyes, and thought -that a great deal of love and pity are wasted -in the world. Long afterwards, her opinion -changed, and she understood that money is -often wasted—love and pity never. Thank -God, it is only the things that “perish in the -using” which we ever can waste!</p> - -<p>On the very day after the Australian letter -came, the black mare was put into the light -cart. The farmer dressed himself in his best -clothes, and carefully examined the harness. -These were signs that he was going to drive -to the town.</p> - -<p>“Maybe it would do you no harm to come, -Rhoda,” he said, suddenly. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>“Put on your -bonnet, and bring the little one.”</p> - -<p>Rhoda ran up into her room, and dressed -herself in haste. Little Nelly crowed with -glee when her small black <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">pelisse</span> was buttoned -on. She was quite unconscious of the -compassion that her mourning garments excited. -And even when she was fairly seated -in the cart, her shrill cries of delight brought -a smile into the farmer’s grave face.</p> - -<p>It was one of the last, peaceful autumn -days. The early morning sky had been -covered with a grey curtain, whose golden -fringes swept the hills from east to west. As -the sun rose higher, the clouds were lifted, the -bright fringes broadened, and there was light -upon all the land.</p> - -<p>Rhoda and her father did not talk much. -Her instincts told her that he was disposed -to be silent; and there was a great deal to -occupy eyes and mind. The bindweed hung -its large white flowers across the yellow hedges. -The wild honeysuckle, in its second bloom, -was like an old friend who comes back to -comfort us in our declining fortunes. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -reached at length the brow of the great chalk -hill that overlooks the harbour. There lay the -sea—a waste of soft blue-grey, touched with -gleams of gold and dashes of silver. There, -too, lay the Isle of Wight in the tranquil sunshine. -The mare trotted on, down hill all the -way, till they entered the noisy streets of the -busy seaport, and left peace and poetry behind.</p> - -<p>The farmer stopped at last before a silversmith’s -shop. He put the reins into Rhoda’s -hand, took a little wooden box from under -his seat, and descended from the cart. For a -few seconds his daughter was utterly bewildered. -The stock of family plate was limited -to a cream-jug and spoons. And even if they -had made up their minds to part with those -treasures, the proceeds would hardly have recompensed -them for the sacrifice. Yet what -could be the contents of the wooden box that -her father had carried into the shop? The -truth flashed upon Rhoda. He was disposing -of Helen’s jewels. He had obtained her husband’s -permission to sell them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> - -<p>He came out again with a sober face. The -silversmith came too, rubbing his hands as if -he were not ill satisfied with his bargain. He -wished the farmer good day, and the mare -jogged steadily back to Huntsdean.</p> - -<p>But Rhoda learnt, long afterwards, that the -money for which the jewels were sold did not -go to Mr. Elton. It went towards the maintenance -of Helen’s child.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER VIII. THE FARM PURCHASED BY ONE RALPH CHANNELL.">CHAPTER <abbr title="8">VIII.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="8">VIII.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">THE FARM PURCHASED BY ONE RALPH -CHANNELL.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">Eight</span> years passed away. In Huntsdean -churchyard the grass had grown over Helen’s -grave, covering up the bare, brown earth, as -new interests cover an old sorrow.</p> - -<p>Little Nelly had never realized her loss. It -contented her to know that her mother had -been laid to rest in a sweet place, and would -rise again some day when the Lord called her. -She always hoped that Helen might rise in -the spring, and find the primroses blooming -round her pretty grave. She might have -fancied that, like Keats, her mother could -“feel the flowers growing over her.” Children -and poets often have the same fancies.</p> - -<p>November had come again; and with it -came a new anxiety.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>The small farm, rented by Farmer Farren, -had passed into new hands. Squire Derrick -was dead, and “another king arose, who knew -not Joseph.” The heir was a needy, grasping -man. Old tenants were nothing to him, and -he was in want of ready money.</p> - -<p>He had made up his mind to sell the little -farm. It was more than likely, therefore, that -the Farrens would be turned out of the old -nest. For the young, it is easy to build new -homes, and gather new associations around -them; but for the old, it is well-nigh impossible. -Their very lives are built into the -ancient walls. When they leave a familiar -dwelling, they long to go straight to “a -house not made with hands, eternal in the -heavens.”</p> - -<p>John was now bailiff to a rich landowner in -Sussex. He had a wife and child; but he -was not unmindful of other ties. “Come to -me,” he wrote, “if you are turned out of the -old place.” But the parents sighed and shook -their heads. They had not greatly prospered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -in Huntsdean, yet no other spot on earth could -be so dear to them.</p> - -<p>“Whatever the Lord means me to do, I’ll -strive to do it willingly,” said the farmer, -bravely. “Oftentimes I’m mighty vexed with -myself for clinging so hard to these old bricks -and mortar, and those few fields yonder. If -I leave them, I shan’t leave my Lord behind -me; and if I stay with them, He’ll soon be -calling me away. But you see, an old man -has his whims; and I wanted to step out -of this old cottage into my Father’s house.”</p> - -<p>In this time of uncertainty, a new duty -suddenly called Rhoda from home. Her -father’s only sister—a childless widow—lay -dying in Norfolk, and sent for her niece to -come and nurse her.</p> - -<p>It was decided that she must go. Her aunt -had no other relatives, and could not be left -alone in her need. But it was with a heavy -heart that Rhoda said farewell to the three -whom she loved best on earth, and set out -on her long, solitary journey.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was a keen, clear morning when she -went away. A brisk wind was blowing; the -brown leaves fled before it, as the hosts of -the Amorites before the sword of Joshua. In -dire confusion they hurried along over soft -turf and stony ground. It was a day on -which all things seemed to be astir. Crows -were cawing, and flying from tree to tree; -magpies flashed across the road; flocks of -small birds assembled on the sear hedges. -And far off could be heard the clamour of -foxhounds and shouts of the huntsmen.</p> - -<p>Rhoda wondered, with a pang, how it -would be when she came back. Do we ever -leave any beloved place without fearing that -a change may fall upon it in our absence? -It is at such times as these that the heart -loves to rest itself upon the Immutable. -“Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place -from all generations.” “Thou art the same, -and Thy years shall not fail.”</p> - -<p>It was a weary sojourn in Norfolk. The -widow’s illness was long and trying. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -God has a way of making hard work seem -easy; and He lightened Rhoda’s labour with -good news from home.</p> - -<p>Two months passed by, and her aunt still -hovered between life and death. Mrs. Farren’s -letters had not given any definite reason for -hope; and yet hopefulness pervaded every line, -and clung to every sentence like a sweet perfume. -Rhoda felt its influence and rejoiced. -And at last, when January came to an end, -the mother spoke out plainly.</p> - -<p>The farm was purchased by one Ralph -Channell. He was a prosperous man who had -come from Australia, and had been settled in -England about a year. He was quite alone -in the world, and had proposed to take up his -abode with the Farrens in the old cottage. -The farmer was to manage everything as usual. -No change would be made in any of their -household ways. Mr. Channell had been -acquainted with Robert Clarris in Australia, -and it was through Clarris that he had first -heard of the Farrens. What he asked of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -them was a home. They might have the old -house rent-free, if they would let him live in -it with them.</p> - -<p>Thus, a heavy burden was lifted from -Rhoda’s heart. Mrs. Farren’s letter was a -psalm of thanksgiving from beginning to end. -“In the day when I cried, Thou answeredst -me, and strengthenedst me with strength in -my soul,” she wrote, in her gladness. And -Rhoda’s spirit caught up the joyful strain. -Yet she once found herself wishing that Mr. -Channell had not been one of Robert Clarris’s -friends. True, Clarris had long ago restored -the three hundred pounds, and had regularly -sent money for his child’s support. But was -not the old taint upon him still?</p> - -<p>Rhoda could never get rid of the notion -that he had been too leniently dealt with. -Hers was a mind which always clings to an -idea. Moreover, her life, from its very beginning, -had been a narrow life. She had never -been called upon to battle with a strong temptation. -But, like all whose strength has not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -been tried, she believed that she could have -stood any test. It is easy for him who sits in -peace to cry shame on the soldier who deserts -his post. There are few of us who cannot -be heroes in imagination. And most of our -harsh judgments come from a narrow experience.</p> - -<p>We can only learn something of the power -of Divine Love by knowing the evil against -which it contends. Those who want to see -what God’s grace can do must look for its -light in dark places.</p> - -<p>When February and March had gone by, -Rhoda found herself free to go home. She -went back to the sweet lights and shadows -of April; to the glitter of fresh showers, and -the scent of hyacinths and wall-flowers. Her -mother’s arms were opened to her. Nelly -clung to her neck, half-crying for joy. Her -father and Mr. Channell were out in the -meadows, they told her; they would come -indoors for tea. It was Nelly who had most -to say about the stranger.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You never knew anybody so kind, Rhoda,” -she said, earnestly. “He makes us all happy, -and he’s taken me to see mother’s grave every -Sunday while you were away.”</p> - -<p>Rhoda was standing at the back-door when -she saw them coming from the fields. Nelly, -with her pinafore full of kittens, still chattered -by her side. Just in front of the door was -the old cherry-tree, covered with silvery blossoms -and spangled with rain-drops. It looked -like a bridal bouquet hung with diamonds. -Men were sowing barley in the acres beyond -the fence. Rhoda was watching the blossoms -and the sowers, and yet she saw those two -figures.</p> - -<p>The first glance told her that Mr. Channell -was a strong man. In his younger days he -might have been almost handsome, but he -was one of those men who had lost youth -early in life. It was a face with which sorrow -had been very busy, and hard work had put -the finishing touches to the lines that sorrow -had begun. Rhoda did not know what it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -in this man that made her think of Luther. -But when she looked at him she saw the same -kind of peace that the reformer’s features might -have worn. It may be that there is a family -likeness among all God’s Greathearts. For -all those who have fought the good fight must -show “the seal of the living God” on their -foreheads as well as the scars of the conflict. -Even our dim eyes may see the difference -between the marks that are got in the devil’s -service and those that have been won in the -battles of the Lord.</p> - -<p>From that very day there was a change in -Rhoda’s life. Some of us, in looking back on -our lives, can remember the exact spot where -the old straight road took a turn at last. It -had run on so long in the same even line, that -we thought there would never be any change -at all. Other roads had always been crooked—full -of twists and ups and downs; ours never -varied. But at last, when it looked straightest -and smoothest, the turn came.</p> - -<p>Rhoda began to think that the world was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -widening, as we all do when an expanding -process is going on within ourselves.</p> - -<p>First she found out that the old cottage -was a much pleasanter place than it used to -be, and that the parents seemed growing -younger instead of older. Mr. Channell discovered -all their little likings and dislikings -and carefully studied them. Some folks think -they have done wonders if they scatter flowers -in a friend’s path, but Ralph Channell’s work -was the quiet removal of the thorns. Perhaps -the best labourers in the world are those who -have striven to undo evil rather than to do -good, but they are not those who have had -the most praise.</p> - -<p>He had brought a goodly number of books -to Huntsdean, but Rhoda learnt more from -the life-histories that he told her than from -the printed volumes. They helped her to read -the books by a new light.</p> - -<p>In his way—and it was a very unassuming -way—he had been doing missionary work in -Melbourne. And in listening to him Rhoda<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -first understood how Christ’s love follows the -sinner, and hunts him into the darkest corners -of the earth rather than lose him. In this -universe, where wheat and tares grow together, -and angels and devils strive together, mercy -never rests. For the prince of darkness is not -so active as He who hath said, “Lo, I am with -you always, even unto the end of the world.” -If the devil “goeth about as a roaring lion, -seeking those whom he may devour,” the Good -Shepherd is seeking, too, to save them that are -lost. There is only one power stronger than -hate, and that is love.</p> - -<p>In this strain did Mr. Channell talk to -Rhoda. The spring passed away, summer days -came and went, and still no mention had ever -been made by either of them of Robert Clarris. -At last, however, his name was brought up -abruptly by Rhoda herself.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER IX. THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF BATTLE.">CHAPTER <abbr title="9">IX.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="9">IX.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF BATTLE.</p> - -<p><span class = "smcap">On</span> a Sunday afternoon these two, Ralph and -Rhoda, had strayed out into the old orchard -at the back of the house. The summer world -was just then in all its glory. The meadows -looked as if a flowery robe had been shaken -out over them; the orchard grass was full of -tall, shiny buttercups and large field-daisies, -resplendent in their snowy frills. A turquoise -sky smiled down through the leaf-laden boughs -above their heads; bees were murmuring all -around them.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Channell,” asked Rhoda, suddenly, -“you know Nelly’s father, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>He stooped and gathered one of the large -daisies. For a moment there was no reply. -The bees filled up the pause while she waited -for his answer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said at last, “I know him well.”</p> - -<p>“Is he really penitent?” she inquired, doubtfully. -“Does he think that what he has done -has blotted out the past? It’s easy to whitewash -a dirty wall, but the stains are underneath -the whitewash still.”</p> - -<p>“There is a vast difference between the -stain which is only whitewashed over, and -that which Christ’s blood has blotted out,” -replied Mr. Channell. “I don’t believe that -Robert Clarris can ever forget the past, or -think that he has atoned for it. But he knows -that the Lord has put away his sin.”</p> - -<p>“How does he know it?” Rhoda demanded.</p> - -<p>“Until he had committed that great crime,” -Ralph went on, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>“he knew nothing at all of -the love of Christ. He had been a moral -man, satisfied with his morality. Then came -secret sorrows—then much worldly perplexity, -followed by a strong temptation—and he fell. -And when he lay grovelling in the dust, the -Lord’s voice travelled to him along the ground. -While he had walked erect, he had never -heard it.”</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t Mr. Elton over-merciful to him?” -asked Rhoda. “I have often thought so.”</p> - -<p>A sudden light seemed to kindle in Ralph’s -eyes.</p> - -<p>“There are many,” he said, “who pray -Sunday after Sunday that the Lord will -raise up them that fall, and yet do all they -can to keep the fallen ones down. Mr. Elton -was not one of those. He thought that if half -the blows that were spent upon sinners were -bestowed upon Satan, the Evil One would -indeed be beaten down under our feet. God -bless him! He saved a sinner from the consequences -of one dark hour!”</p> - -<p>Again there was a pause. This time it was -broken by little Nelly, who came bounding -in between them. Ralph bent down and -clasped the child closely in his arms.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my darling,” he said, as he held her, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>“may the Lord make you one of His handmaidens! -May He send you forth to raise -up them that fall, and to bind up the broken -in heart!”</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was not the first time that Nelly -had heard this prayer. It did not surprise -her as it did Rhoda. Miss Farren watched -Ralph’s face earnestly, till it had regained its -usual look of peace.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Channell,” she began, yielding to a -sudden impulse, “I’m sure you must have -suffered a great deal. Forgive me for saying -so much,” she added, “but I’ve sometimes -thought that you have the look of a victor.”</p> - -<p>He turned towards the house, holding -Nelly’s hand in his.</p> - -<p>“I must answer you in another’s words,” -he replied. “They are better than any of -mine. ‘To me also was given, if not victory, -yet the consciousness of battle, and the -resolve to persevere therein while life or -faculty is left.’”</p> - -<p>“The consciousness of battle,” Rhoda repeated -to herself. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>“Perhaps that was what -St. Paul felt when he found a law in his -members warring against the law in his mind. -And perhaps it’s a bad thing to be conscious -of no warfare at all.”</p> - -<p>And then she began to wonder if she were -anything like Robert Clarris before he fell. -Had she ever really heard the Lord’s voice? -Were not her ears deafened by the clamour -of self-conceit? Alas, it goes ill with us when -we mistake the voice of self-congratulation -for the voice of God!</p> - -<p>But there came a time when Rhoda reached -the very bottom of the Valley of Humiliation. -She grew conscious that she, a strong, -self-reliant woman, had silently given a love -that had never been asked of her. When a -man takes a woman by the hand, and lifts -her above her old self, it is ten to one that -she falls in love with him.</p> - -<p>We all know what it is to wonder at the -change that love makes in a woman. We -have marvelled often what that clever man -could have seen in this commonplace girl, but -we admit that he has made her a new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -creature. Perhaps, like the great sculptor, he -attacked the marble block with Divine fervour, -believing that an angel was imprisoned -in it. And his instincts were not wrong after -all. The shapeless stone was chipped away -and the beautiful form revealed.</p> - -<p>But Rhoda had no reason to think that -Ralph Channell cared for her more than for -others. In every respect he was above her. -The rector (rectors are great persons in country -villages) had found out that Mr. Channell -was a thoughtful and cultivated man. The -rector’s family said that he was charming, -and they wondered why he shut himself up -with the Farrens in their dull cottage. -Nobody ever intimated that he was thinking -of Rhoda. All the country people had -settled that she was to be an old maid. -She was too good for the farmers, and not -good enough for the squires’ sons. And for -many a year Rhoda had been very comfortably -resigned to her fate.</p> - -<p>Bit by bit, however, she had let her heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -go, and she awoke one day, suddenly and -miserably, to the knowledge that she had -parted with the best part of herself. There -is no need to tell how or when she made -the discovery. A chance word, a trivial incident, -may send us to look into the casket -where we kept our treasure, and we find it -empty.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER X. THE STORY OF THE ONE DARK HOUR.">CHAPTER <abbr title="10">X.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="10">X.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">THE STORY OF THE ONE DARK HOUR.</p> - -<p><span class = "smcap">Rhoda</span> tried hard to conceal her loss. Now -that the treasure was gone, she double-locked -the casket. No one, she resolved, should -know how poor she was. So well did she -play her part, that those around thought her -sterner and harder—that was all.</p> - -<p>Her manner to Ralph changed visibly. -She began to avoid his company; their -familiar conversations were at an end. Her -whole energy was now devoted to one endeavour—to -keep him in ignorance of that -which he had won. If she were poor, he -should be none the richer. And thus, poor -soul, she went about her daily duties, putting -on a hard face to hide her weakness. Even -Nelly found that Rhoda was not so pleasant -as she used to be, and the child turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -more and more to Mr. Channell. Was he -gaining her too?</p> - -<p>“I am losing everything, and he is getting -everything,” said Rhoda, to herself. “Perhaps -this is God’s way of showing me how -small my strength is. Haven’t I lost the -very thing that I thought myself best able -to keep?”</p> - -<p>It will always be so with those whom the -Lord teaches. In one way or another the -humbling process must be gone through. -Sometimes it is seen of all men; sometimes -it is known to Him alone. But as certainly -as He loves us “shall the nail that is fastened -in the sure place be removed, and be cut -down and fall; and the burden that was -upon it shall be cut off, for the Lord hath -spoken it.” In the soul that He makes his -own He will not leave a single peg to hang -self-confidence upon. And when our chamber -walls are bare, and the tawdry rags of -self-esteem are swept out, He will enter and -fill the room with sweetness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> - -<p>One afternoon, in the golden harvest-time, -Rhoda and Nelly sauntered up into the wheat-fields. -The reapers were resting under the -hedges; in the largest field nearly all the corn -had been gathered into sheaves. Rhoda tired -quickly now; for when the heart is heavy, the -limbs are apt to be weary. She stopped in -the middle of the field and dropped down to -rest, leaning her back against a great russet -shock. A few stray ears nodded overhead, -and Nelly nestled under their shadow.</p> - -<p>She had always been an impulsive child, -one of those children who will ask any question -that comes into their heads, and a good -many come. She had no notion of restraining -her curiosity. If anything puzzled her, she -must always have it explained.</p> - -<p>“Rhoda,” she said, suddenly, in her clear -little voice, “what has Mr. Channell done to -offend you? Don’t you like him?”</p> - -<p>The words struck Rhoda like a sharp unexpected -blow. Without a moment’s pause -she cried out harshly and bitterly—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I wish he’d never come here, Nelly; I -wish you and I had never seen him!”</p> - -<p>Nelly was so startled by the passionate tone -that she jumped up from her seat. As she -moved, somebody on the other side of the -shock moved also. It was Mr. Channell. -Rhoda turned her head in time to see him -walking away. In an instant she realized that -he had heard all, but she dared not think of -the construction that would be put upon her -outburst. Perhaps she had mortally offended -her father’s best friend; perhaps he would go -away from them all for ever.</p> - -<p>“Oh, what a wretched woman I am!” she -groaned, aloud. And then she saw that Nelly -had run off after Ralph Channell.</p> - -<p>She rose slowly, and wandered back again -to the cottage. The doors and windows were -set wide open. Her mother sat peacefully -knitting in the parlour, but Rhoda went -straight upstairs to her own room. Nobody -could do her any good just then. She wanted -to be alone and get her senses together. Her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -head ached, and she had a dazed, helpless -feeling of having cut herself off from everything -comforting. So she sat down for a few -minutes by the bedside, then got up, and fell -suddenly on her knees.</p> - -<p>In her prayer she did not get much beyond -telling God that she was miserable. It was -rather an outpouring of sorrow than a plea -for help. But it was her first heartfelt confession -of utter weakness, and perhaps that -was the best way of asking for strength. The -stray sheep that falls helpless at the Shepherd’s -feet is sure to be folded in His arms and carried -in His bosom.</p> - -<p>She could not go down and sit at the tea-table -as usual, and no one came to disturb -her in her solitude. But at last, when the -shadows were lengthening over the fields, and -the distant church-clock struck six, she heard -a footstep on the stairs. The door opened -softly, and her mother’s face looked in.</p> - -<p>“May I come to you, Rhoda?” she asked, -gently.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes, mother,” Rhoda answered. “I know -how shocked and hurt you must be,” she -added. “But, indeed, I couldn’t help it.”</p> - -<p>“O Rhoda,” said Mrs. Farren, “we’ve all -thought you seemed stern and strange lately, -but we didn’t know until to-day that you had -found out our secret. <em>He</em> says that it has -been all wrong from the beginning; he thinks -you ought to have heard the truth at once.”</p> - -<p>“The truth, mother?” echoed Rhoda. -“What is it that you mean?”</p> - -<p>“He says, dear Rhoda, that he ought to -have told you who he was,” Mrs. Farren -replied. “He sees now that it was wrong to -come here under a new name.”</p> - -<p>“A new name!” her daughter repeated. -“For pity’s sake, mother, speak plainly. Who -is he, if he is not Ralph Channell?”</p> - -<p>“We all thought you must have found out,” -said Mrs. Farren, in a perplexed tone. “He -is poor Helen’s husband—Robert Clarris.”</p> - -<p>It was not until some minutes had passed -away that Rhoda was calm enough to hear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -her mother’s story. The two sat hand in -hand, nearer to each other in heart than they -had ever been before. Perhaps Mrs. Farren -had always been a little afraid of her daughter; -but now that she had got a glimpse into -Rhoda’s inner self the reserve vanished.</p> - -<p>“We had always felt sure that Robert was -no practised sinner,” she began; “but we -did not know what it was that had driven -him to a crime—we only guessed something -like the truth. O Rhoda, it’s an awful -thing when vanity gets the upper hand with -a woman! Poor Helen made a sad confession -to me when she lay dying in this very -room. It’s hard to speak of the faults of the -dead; but there’s justice to be done to the -living.”</p> - -<p>“Whatever her faults may have been, they -were no worse than mine,” Rhoda said, humbly; -“and she has done with sinning now, while -I shall be going on—perhaps for years longer.”</p> - -<p>“Helen got deeply into debt,” Mrs. Farren -continued; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>“and she used, I am afraid, to go -to balls and theatres without her husband’s -knowledge. He was sent away sometimes on -business by Mr. Elton. But don’t think her -worse than she was, Rhoda—she loved gaiety -and admiration passionately, but she wasn’t -a bad woman at heart—he always knew and -believed that; yet she got him into terrible -difficulties, poor child! And at last, when -her debts had amounted to three hundred -pounds, she flung herself at his feet and confessed -the truth.”</p> - -<p>Both the women were crying. It was indeed -hard to expose the faults and follies of the -dead. They felt as if they had been tearing -the soft turf and sweet flowers from Helen’s -grave; and yet it had to be done.</p> - -<p>“Robert was not a converted man at that -time,” went on Mrs. Farren. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>“The blow -knocked him down, and utterly bewildered -him. He saw no means at all of paying the -debts, and he knew they must be paid immediately. -Helen hadn’t confessed till her -creditors had driven her to extremities; and -he went into the city in a state of despair, -for there was ‘no help for him in his God.’ -Perhaps he would have asked aid from his -employer if Mr. Elton had been the owner of -the business. But old Mrs. Elton was a close -woman, and her son did nothing without her -consent.”</p> - -<p>Rhoda could almost guess what was coming. -She could see now that man’s extremity is -often the devil’s opportunity. If a soul does -not seek help from God, the prince of darkness -steps in.</p> - -<p>“On that very morning,” said Mrs. Farren, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>“he found a note from Mr. Elton waiting for -him in the office. His master told him that -he had been suddenly called off to Ireland to -look after some property there. He should -be absent six weeks—perhaps longer. Clarris -was to take his place and manage things, as -he always did while Mr. Elton was away. -And just an hour or two later a sunburnt, -sailor-like man came in, and clapped Robert -on the shoulder. Robert, poor fellow, didn’t -recollect him at first; but when he said that -he was Frank Ridley, and that he had come -to pay a debt of long standing, he remembered -all about him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! mother, why did he come just then?” -sighed Rhoda.</p> - -<p>“The Lord suffered it to be so,” Mrs. Farren -answered. “Christ’s hour was not yet come. -That was the devil’s hour, and a dark hour -it was.”</p> - -<p>She went on with the story in her own -straightforward way. Frank Ridley and Mr. -Elton had been schoolfellows and dear friends. -But while Elton was steady and painstaking, -even in boyhood, Frank was a never-do-well. -One chance after another slipped through his -fingers; situations were got and lost. At last -some new opening offered itself; but money -was needed, and Frank was at that time -almost penniless. He came to Elton in his -strait, and asked for the loan of three hundred -pounds.</p> - -<p>To everybody’s surprise, Mrs. Elton lent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -him the sum. She had a liking for handsome -young Ridley, and opened her purse with a -good grace for his sake. But Frank’s undertaking -was, as usual, a dead failure, and the -money was hopelessly lost. Ridley himself -was lost too. For eight years he was neither -seen nor heard of; and then he turned up -again in Elton’s office with a pocket-book -stuffed with bank-notes.</p> - -<p>“I’ve found out my vocation at last,” he -shouted, in his hearty tones. “I’m captain -of a trading vessel, and I’ve traded on my -own account to good purpose. Here’s the -three hundred, and I’m downright sorry that -I must be off again without seeing your -governor, Clarris.”</p> - -<p>Robert received the money—all in notes—and -gave a receipt; and then the sailor went -his way. After that the enemy came in like -a flood, and the deep waters rushed over -Robert’s soul. He did not cry, “Lord, save, -or I perish!” Alas! he thought of everything -rather than of Him who is able to save<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -to the uttermost. Here was the exact sum -that was needed. Frank Ridley was off on -his voyages again, and would never, perhaps, -return. Robert had only to put the notes in -his pocket, and make no entry in the ledger. -Of course there was a certain risk in doing -this; but it was very unlikely that anything -would be found out. And here was the sum—the -very sum that was wanted—within his -grasp. He would pay it all back; he would -work night and day to do that. He caught -at that honest resolution, and clung to it as -a man clings to a frail spar when the ship -goes to pieces.</p> - -<p>This was Apollyon’s hour of triumph. -Robert went out and paid Helen’s bills on -that very night. But the burden that he had -taken up was far heavier than that which he -had thrown off. It was on a Monday morning -that he had received Ridley’s money; -and the succeeding days dragged on as if -each day were weighted with iron fetters, till -Saturday came. Robert wrote to his master<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -daily, entering into all the details of business -as minutely as usual. Then on the Sunday -morning—that last Sunday that he ever spent -with Helen—he went upstairs after breakfast, -and laid down upon his bed. The sense of -sin and shame was upon him; he would not -mock God by going to church and looking -like a respectable man. His wife did not -know what ailed him. He had told her that -the debts were paid—that was all.</p> - -<p>Monday came again, the anniversary of his -sin. And there, on the office-desk, lay a letter -addressed to himself in his master’s handwriting. -It had been written on Saturday, -and was dated from Dublin.</p> - -<p>“I find I am at liberty to come home at -once,” Mr. Elton wrote. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>“I have found a -friend here who will look after the property -for me. Strangely enough, I ran against -Frank Ridley yesterday, and could scarcely -believe my own eyes. He had come to Dublin -in quest of an old sweetheart. He told me -that he had called at the office, and had paid -his old debt. He showed me your receipt -when I looked incredulous. I am rather surprised -that you did not mention this in your -letters.”</p> - -<p>Robert Clarris put on his hat and coat -and went quietly into the outer office.</p> - -<p>“Blake,” he said, calling the eldest of the -under clerks, “I am not well, and must go -home at once. I leave the keys in your -charge, for I know you may be trusted.”</p> - -<p>Blake—an honest fellow—looked into -Clarris’s face, and saw that he spoke the truth.</p> - -<p>Then followed the last miserable interview -with Helen, and the hurried preparations for -flight. His wife entreated that she might go -away to her old home, under her uncle’s roof. -She had brought him nothing but trouble, -she owned piteously; and he would get on -better without her. Alas, poor Helen! a sorry -helpmeet she had been to the man who had -loved her! These two had not asked the -Lord to their marriage-feast, and had never -drunk of the wine of His love. And so they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -parted, never to meet again till they should -meet at the marriage supper of the Lamb.</p> - -<p>In Melbourne there was one Ralph Channell, -who had been the friend of Robert’s father, -and the miserable man found him out. He -told Mr. Channell his whole story. Nothing -was concealed. The sin, in all its hideousness, -was exposed to Ralph Channell’s sight. And -yet he took the sinner to his heart.</p> - -<p>But he tested the young man patiently. -He let him scrape and save to pay back the -money that he had stolen; he would not give -him a single farthing. Every shilling of the -restored sum was fairly earned in Mr. Channell’s -service, and paid out of a small salary. -And all that time he saw that a mighty work -of grace was going on in Robert’s soul.</p> - -<p>When Mr. Channell lay dying, a lonely, -childless man, he called Robert to his side. -“All my property is yours,” he said; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>“you -are my sole heir, and you must take my -name—ay, and you must make it loved and -honoured in the old country.”</p> - -<p>So Robert came to England, full of yearnings -for the child whom he had never seen. -From John Farren he learnt that Rhoda’s -heart was hardened against him. And yet, -how could he help loving her for the love -that she bare to Nelly? He knew all about -Rhoda from her mother’s letters. And he -wanted, more than he ever acknowledged, to -see this woman who could be so hard and -yet so tender. The opportunity came. He -bought the farm, and gave it to Farmer Farren; -only stipulating that it should go to Rhoda -at her father’s death. And he came to dwell -amongst the Farrens as Ralph Channell.</p> - -<p>This was all that the mother had to tell. -Rhoda got up, when the tale was ended, and -went quietly out of the house.</p> - -<p>The sun had just gone down; but there -was light in the west, where rosy cloud-islands -floated in a golden sea. And there was a -light in Rhoda’s face that gave her a new -charm.</p> - -<p>She knew, by some subtle instinct, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -she should find Robert Channell. She ascended -the steep, winding lane, that led to -the old churchyard. How did she guess that -one woman’s harshness would send him to -the grave of another? How is it that women -go straight to a conclusion which a man could -only reach by a circuitous route?</p> - -<p>He neither saw nor heard her coming. -His head was bent over that flowery mound, -and the grass deadened the sound of her feet. -She had been very brave until she found -herself by his side. And then all her strength -and courage suddenly fled. She had no words -to plead for forgiveness; she could only touch -his arm with her trembling hand, and call -him by the name that she had hated all these -years,—</p> - -<p>“Robert!”</p> - -<p>There was very little said just then. The -last glow was dying out of the skies, and the -dews were falling on Helen’s grave. But the -Lord lifted up the light of His countenance -upon them, and gave them peace.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> - - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER XI. NELLY CHANNELL.">CHAPTER <abbr title="11">XI.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="11">XI.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">NELLY CHANNELL.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">The</span> little village seemed to lie asleep in the -August sunshine. From the upland where she -stood Nelly could see the columns of pale -smoke going up from cottage chimneys, but -nobody was astir in the gardens. It was noon. -Scarcely a flake of cloud relieved the intense -blue overhead; not a breath of wind fanned -the thick leafage in the copse behind her.</p> - -<p>Nelly Channell was not sorry that the morning -was over. Like most people who have a -great deal of time on their hands, she was often -puzzled about the disposal of it. When she -had diligently practised on the piano indoors, -and had paid a visit to the little step-brother -and sister in the nursery, there was nothing -more to be done. She used sometimes to say -that this part of her life was like an isthmus,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -connecting the two continents of schoolgirlhood -and womanhood.</p> - -<p>On this morning she had carried a book out -of doors, and had read it from beginning to end. -It was a book that had been recommended to -her by Mrs. Channell. Nelly had a great -reverence for her stepmother’s opinion; but the -story had not pleased her at all. It was directly -opposed to all her notions of right and wrong. -She even went so far as to say to herself that it -ought never to have been written.</p> - -<p>Nelly was a girl who generally spoke her -mind;—a little bluntly sometimes, but always -with that natural earnestness which makes one -forgive the bluntness. As the distant church -clock struck twelve, and the stable-clock repeated -the strokes, she turned and went into -the house.</p> - -<p>It was a large handsome house, which her -father had built soon after his second marriage, -about twelve years ago. But although they -had coaxed the creepers to grow over the red -bricks, and wreathe the doors and windows,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -Nelly always maintained that it was not so -charming a place as the little vine-covered -cottage where she was born. The cottage was -still standing; she could see it from her father’s -hall-door. And she had only to cross two -fields and an orchard when she wanted to visit -the dear old man and woman who had sheltered -her in her childhood.</p> - -<p>On the threshold of the house stood Mrs. -Channell with a light basket on her arm.</p> - -<p>“I am going to the cottage to see mother,” -she explained. “I have been making a new -cap for her,—look, Nelly.”</p> - -<p>She lifted the basket-lid, and afforded Nelly -a glimpse of soft lace and lilac ribbons.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you let me make it, mamma?” -the girl asked. “I think you ought to use -these idle hands of mine, if you want to keep -them out of mischief.”</p> - -<p>“I gave you a book to read this morning,” -Mrs. Channell replied.</p> - -<p>“Yes. I have read it, and I don’t like it,” -said candid Nelly, stepping back to lay the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -volume on the hall table. “I will go with -you to the cottage, and we can talk it over.”</p> - -<p>Arm-in-arm they walked through the sweet -grass, keeping under the shadow of the hedges -and trees. Mrs. Channell waited for the girl -to speak again.</p> - -<p>“I don’t like the book,” Nelly repeated, -after a pause. “The writer seems to have -strange ideas. The hero—a very poor hero—is -false to the heroine. After getting engaged -to her, he discovers that he can never -love her as he loves another girl; and of course -she releases him from the engagement when -she finds out the truth. But instead of representing -him as the worthless fellow that -he was, the author persists in showing us that -he became a good husband and father. He -begins his career by an act of treachery; and -yet he prospers, and is wonderfully happy with -the wife of his choice! It is too bad.”</p> - -<p>“Lewis Moore was not a treacherous man,” -said Mrs. Channell, quietly. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>“He made a great -and terrible mistake. But sometimes it is not -easy to distinguish between a blunder and a -crime. The heroine—Alice—had grace given -her to make that distinction. She saved him -and herself from the effects of the blunder by -setting him free. She bade him go and marry -Margaret, because she saw that Margaret was -the only woman who could make him happy.”</p> - -<p>“He didn’t deserve to be happy!” cried -Nelly. “He ought to have been sure of himself -before he proposed to Alice. If I had -been in Alice’s place I would have let him -depart, but not with a blessing! She took it -far too tamely. I would have let him see that -I despised him.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Channell thought within herself that -the young often believe themselves a thousand -times harder-hearted than they are. Those -who feel the bitterest wrath when they think -of an injury that has never come to them are -the most patient and merciful when they -actually meet it face to face. But she did -not say this to Nelly.</p> - -<p>The book was talked of no more that day;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -and for many a day afterwards it stood neglected -on Mrs. Channell’s shelves. Nelly had -forgotten it after a night’s sleep, and the next -morning’s post brought her a surprise.</p> - -<p>When she entered the breakfast-room her -father was already seated at the table looking -over his letters. He held up one addressed, -in a legal-looking hand, to Miss Ellen Channell.</p> - -<p>“Who is your new correspondent, Nelly?” -he asked. “This is something different from -the young-ladyish epistles you are in the habit -of receiving, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know the writing,” she said, opening -it carelessly. But in the next minute she -laid it hastily before him.</p> - -<p>“Read it, father,” she cried. “Old Mr. -Myrtle is dead, and has left me three thousand -pounds! You remember how he made -a pet of me in my school-days?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Channell read the letter in silence; and -then he looked up quickly into his daughter’s -face, and put his hand on hers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I hope no one is defrauded by this legacy,” -he said, gravely. “You will have quite enough -without it, Nelly. Had Mr. Myrtle any relations?”</p> - -<p>“He used to say that he was quite alone -in the world,” she answered. “His house was -next to our school, and the gardens joined; -that was how I came to see so much of him. -No one ever went to stay with him, and he -seldom had even a caller.”</p> - -<p>“I wish he had left the money to a poorer -girl,” remarked Mr. Channell. “Well, Nelly, -you will now have a hundred and fifty pounds -a year to do as you like with. I hope you’ll -spend it wisely, my dear.”</p> - -<p>It was generally known throughout the -county that Nelly was the daughter of a rich -man. She was very pretty too, although not -so beautiful as her mother had been; and at -nineteen she was not without would-be suitors -and admirers. But not one of these was a man -after Robert Channell’s own heart. They -were hunting and sporting country gentlemen, -who talked of dogs and horses all day long.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -He wanted a man of another stamp for Nelly. -He did not care about long pedigrees, nor did -he hanker after ancestral lands. He desired -for his child a husband who would guide a -young wife as bravely up the hill of Sacrifice -as over the plain called Ease.</p> - -<p>It might have been that Robert Channell -thought too much of what the husband should -be to the wife, and too little of what the wife -is to the husband. There are moments in the -life of the strongest men when only the touch -of a woman’s hand has kept them from turning -into a wrong road. But it is not easy for a -father, anxious for the safety of his girl’s -future, to think of anything beyond her requirements. -Nelly was a prize; and Mr. -Channell could but daily pray that she might -not be won by one who was unworthy of her.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> - - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER XII. MORGAN FOSTER, THE NEW CURATE.">CHAPTER <abbr title="12">XII.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h"> CHAPTER <abbr title="12">XII.</abbr> </p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">MORGAN FOSTER, THE NEW CURATE.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">In</span> the golden harvest time, just after they -had celebrated Nelly’s nineteenth birthday, -a new face appeared in Huntsdean, and a -new influence began to work among the -villagers. The rector, who had grown old -and feeble, was at last induced to secure the -services of a curate. And Robert Channell, -having been a good friend to the people for -many a day, felt almost disposed to look -jealously upon the stranger.</p> - -<p>But before a month had passed by, Mr. -Channell and the curate had found out that -they were of one mind. The new-comer did -not want to upset any of the old plans, but -he showed himself capable of improving them. -He was no shallow boy, inflated with vast -notions of his own self-importance, but a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -thoughtful, active man, whose wisdom and -experience were far beyond his years. And -Robert liked Morgan Foster all the better because -he was the son of poor parents, and had -worked hard all his days, first as a grammar-school -boy, and then as a sizar at Cambridge.</p> - -<p>Nelly liked his sermons, which were never -above her comprehension; and yet she liked -him none the less, perhaps, because her instincts -told her that he could have soared -higher if he had chosen. She fell into the -habit of comparing him with all the men she -had ever known, and found that he always -gained by the process.</p> - -<p>Even in person this son of the people could -hold his own against the descendants of the -old county families. He was a tall, broad-shouldered -man; and Nelly, whose stature -was above middle height, secretly took a -pleasure in feeling that she must look up to -him. They were seen walking side by side -along the Huntsdean lanes, and folks began -to say that they were a fine couple.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> - -<p>Those calm autumn days were very sweet -days to Nelly Channell. The summer lingered -long; no wild winds suddenly stripped the -trees, and so the woods kept their leafiness, -and stood, in all their gorgeous apparel, under -the pale blue skies. Nelly thought it must be -the peace of this slow decay and tranquil sunshine -that made her life so happy at this time. -She did not own to herself that every bit of -the old scenery had become dearer because -Morgan Foster was learning to love it too. -Her father and mother discovered the secret -long before she had found it out; and they -smiled over it together, not ill-pleased.</p> - -<p>She had more than one offer just at this -period. The neighbouring country houses -were full of men who had come to Huntsdean -for the shooting. They admired Nelly riding -by her father’s side, and looking vigorous and -blooming in her habit and hat. They met her -now and then at a dinner-party, and straightway -fell in love with her chestnut hair and -brown eyes, and were not unmindful of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -handsome dowry that would go with these -charms. She was wont to say, long afterwards, -that her unconscious attachment to -another was a safeguard of God’s providing. -Many a woman speaks the fatal Yes, because -her heart furnishes her with no reason for -saying No.</p> - -<p>Robert Channell encouraged the curate to -come often to his house; but no one hinted -that he thought of him as a possible son-in-law. -It was too absurd to suppose that he -would give his Nelly to a man who had only -a hundred-and-fifty a year, and was encumbered -with an old father and mother, living in -obscurity. Some of the disappointed suitors -remarked that Channell was a fool to have -the parson hanging about the place;—there -was no counting on the whims of a spoiled -beauty, who might take it into her head to -fling herself away on a curate. But this notion -was not generally entertained, and the intimacy -increased without exciting much notice.</p> - -<p>Christmas had come and gone. It was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -last day of the old year; Nelly, sitting alone -by the drawing-room fire, was seriously taking -herself to task, and asking her own heart why -the world was so very desolate that day? True, -the ground was covered with snow; but the -afternoon sky was bright with winter sunshine. -The brown woodlands took rich tinges from -the golden rays that slanted over them, and -scarlet berries glistened against the garden -wall. Nelly had wrapped a shawl round her -shoulders, and had laid the blame of her low -spirits on a cold.</p> - -<p>“But the cold is not to blame,” owned the -girl to herself. “When one has a friend—such -a friend as Mr. Foster—one does not -like him to stay away from the house for a -week; and one cannot bear to hear that he -is always at the rectory when Miss White is -there! And yet it ought not to matter to -me!”</p> - -<p>It mattered so much that the tears in Nelly’s -brown eyes began to run down her cheeks. -At that very moment the drawing-room door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -was thrown open, and the page announced -Mr. Foster.</p> - -<p>The curate advanced a few paces, and -stopped in sudden dismay. There was something -so pathetic in Nelly’s pale, tearful face, -that he was stricken speechless for a moment. -And then he recovered himself, and began to -make anxious inquiries which she scarcely -knew how to answer.</p> - -<p>“Nothing has happened, Mr. Foster,” she -sobbed. “I am only crying because I am in -low spirits.”</p> - -<p>“Shall I go away now, and call to-morrow?” -asked the bewildered young man in his embarrassment.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Nelly, suddenly looking up -through her tears; “I shall be a great deal -worse if you leave me to myself!”</p> - -<p>Her face told him more than her words. In -a moment the truth flashed upon him, and -covered him with confusion. A vainer man, -or one less occupied in earnest work, would -have seen it far sooner. Morgan Foster took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -a chair by her side, and felt his heart throbbing -as it had seldom throbbed before. There -was but one thing to be done, and he was -going to do it.</p> - -<p>There is no need to tell what he said. -Perhaps it was not a very impassioned declaration; -but it made a happy woman of -Nelly. And only a few minutes later Mr. -Channell and his wife returned from a wintry -walk, and found the two young people together. -There were no concealments; Morgan -was too honourable, and Nelly too simple-hearted, -to make a secret of what had taken -place. It was all talked over quietly, but -with a good deal of restrained feeling; and, -then, having declined an invitation to dinner, -the curate went his way.</p> - -<p>He scarcely knew himself in the character -of an engaged man. He had been working -so hard all his life that marriage had been a -very distant prospect to him. While there -were the dear old parents to be helped, how -could he think of taking a wife? And now,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -here was a rich girl willing to marry him; -and here was her father actually consenting -to the match with evident satisfaction! But -Nelly was something better than an heiress; -she was a very sweet woman; such a woman -as any man would have been proud to win.</p> - -<p>So Morgan Foster, as he walked back to -his lodging over the frozen snow, began to -wonder at the good gifts that Heaven had -showered upon him. It was a strange fact -that he was more inclined to wonder than to -rejoice.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER XIII. WHAT A LITTLE POEM REVEALED.">CHAPTER <abbr title="13">XIII.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="13">XIII.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">WHAT A LITTLE POEM REVEALED.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">Lovers</span>, like sinners, are nearly always found -out; and in a very short time everybody knew -that Nelly Channell was engaged. It is not -worth while to record all the remarks that this -affair drew forth. They were comments of the -usual kind; the curate was called a schemer, -and the father was said to have cruelly neglected -the interests of his child. But as none -of these observations reached the ears of those -whom they chiefly concerned, nobody was any -the worse for them.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Morgan took his good fortune in -a very tranquil way. He saw Nelly nearly -every day, and she did most of the talking that -went on between them. Her conversation, like -herself, was always simple and bright; it did -not weary the listener, and yet it sometimes set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -him wondering at the ease with which she -opened her heart, and let out its inmost -thoughts. He was conscious that he had never -let her get beyond the vestibule of his inner -self; but he would fain have had it otherwise. -It pained him, even while it comforted him, to -see that she was quite unaware of his involuntary -reserve. Had she known that he kept any -locked-up chambers, she would have striven to -find the keys, and would most likely have -succeeded. But she did not know it. She -possessed no instinct keen enough to tell her -that she might live with this man for years -without once getting close to his soul.</p> - -<p>“Read this, Nelly,” he said, one February -afternoon. He had called to take her out -walking, and they were standing together at -the drawing-room window. All the snow was -gone, and in its stead there were clusters of -snowdrops scattered over the brown mould. -Here and there was a group of the golden-eyed -polyanthus; a little yellow-hammer, perched on -the garden-wall, piped its small, sweet song.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -There was sunlight out of doors, and Nelly, -looking bright and picturesque in her velvet -and sable, was impatient to leave the house.</p> - -<p>Morgan had taken a copy of the <cite>Monthly -Guest</cite> from his pocket and was pointing to a -little poem on one of its pages.</p> - -<p>“I can read it when we have had our walk,” -Nelly answered. Then catching a slight shade -of disappointment on his face, she gave her -whole attention to the verses at once.</p> - -<p>“How pretty!” she said, having conscientiously -travelled through the thirty lines. -“How strange it seems that some people -should have the power of putting their ideas -into rhyme! The writer has a nice name,—Eve -Hazleburn.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it is merely a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">nom-de-plume</i>,” -replied Morgan, returning the journal to his -pocket.</p> - -<p>Nelly thought within herself that she had -never found her lover a pleasanter companion -than he was that day. He amused her with -little stories of his college life, and even went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -back to his grammar-school days in search of -incidents. It was a delightful walk; twilight -was creeping on when they found themselves -at the house-door again, but Morgan came no -farther than the threshold.</p> - -<p>“No, thank you,” he said; “I cannot dine -with you to-night; I must go home and write -letters. Good-night, Nelly dear.”</p> - -<p>He went his way through the leafless lanes, -past the cottages and gardens, to the old -sexton’s ivy-covered dwelling. Then he lifted -the latch and went straight to the little parlour -that had been given up to his use. It was a -very small room, so low that the beam across -the ceiling was blackened and blistered by the -heat from the curate’s reading lamp. Six rush-bottomed -chairs stood with their backs against -the wall, and a carpet-covered hassock was the -sole pretension to luxury that the apartment -contained. But a cheerful fire was blazing in -the grate, and on a little red tray stood a -homely black teapot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I saw you a-comin’ through the lane, sir, -and I’ve boiled an egg for you,” said his good -landlady, bustling in. “It’s bitter cold still. -My good man hopes you’ll keep your fire up.”</p> - -<p>She went back to her own quarters with a -troubled look on her kindly old face. Somehow, -her lodger did not seem quite so bright -as he ought to have been after taking a walk -with his sweetheart. She thought they must -have had a lovers’ quarrel; and, woman-like, -was disposed to lay the blame thereof on her -own sex.</p> - -<p>“All girls is fond of worritin’ men; high or -low, rich or poor, they’re all alike,” she said, -to her husband. “They don’t like going on -too peaceable. Nothin’ pleases ’em so well as -a bit of a tiff now and then. But if Miss -Channell don’t know when she’s well off, she’s -a foolish body;—women are a’most as bad as -the children of Israel, a-quarrelling with their -blessings!”</p> - -<p>While the sexton’s wife was misjudging poor -unconscious Nelly, the curate sat lingering over -his tea-cup. He was thoroughly realizing, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -the first time, that he had made a mistake in -asking Miss Channell to be his wife. It was a -little thing that had opened his eyes to the -blunder,—merely her way of reading the little -poem in the <cite>Monthly Guest</cite>. He had been -always vaguely hoping that something would -bring them nearer together, and make it -possible for him to give all that he ought to -give; and he had thought that the poem -would do it. The verses seemed to have -proceeded straight from some human heart, -whose feelings and aspirations were identical -with his own. They expressed the same sense -of failure and hope which every earnest worker -for God must feel. They described the peace -which always grows out of hearty effort, even -if that effort be not a success.</p> - -<p>Just one word or look of comprehension -would have led him on to speak out of his interior -self. But poor Nelly saw nothing in the -poem beyond its rhymes. She was like one -who misses the diamond in gazing at its setting.</p> - -<p>“Thank God!” he said, half aloud, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>“that I -can hide my sense of disappointment from her! -She shall never know that I want anything but -her sweetness and goodness, poor child! What -a happy man I ought to be, and yet what an -ungrateful wretch I seem in my own eyes!”</p> - -<p>He sat looking sadly into the red hollow of -the neglected fire and sighed heavily.</p> - -<p>“I am like old Bunyan’s pilgrims,” he continued. -“I remember that they came to a -place where they saw a way put itself into their -way, and seemed withal to lie as straight as the -way which they should go. And now I fear -that I have gone out of my right path without -knowing it. Well, so long as the penalty falls -upon me only, I can bear it!”</p> - -<p>But his spirit was still disquieted when he -went to his little chamber that night. He lay -awake for hours thinking of Nelly, and of the -future which lay before them both.</p> - -<p>Next morning came a letter, in his father’s -handwriting, which was full of sad tidings. His -mother was dangerously ill;—could he not -come to her at once?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> - -<p>Morgan went straightway to the rectory, and -laid his case before the rector. The old man -had his son, a young deacon, staying in his -house, and readily consented to spare his curate. -Then there was a letter to Nelly to be written, -explaining the cause of his sudden departure. -Before noon the train was bearing him far away -from the vales and woods of Huntsdean, -straight to the great world of London. And -from Euston Square he travelled to the ancient -Warwickshire city where his parents had made -their home.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> - - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER XIV. EVE HAZLEBURN, POET AND FRIEND.">CHAPTER <abbr title="14">XIV.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="14">XIV.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">EVE HAZLEBURN, POET AND FRIEND.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">A very</span> humble home it was; but his love -had stinted self to obtain comforts for them. -The light of the February day was fading when -he entered the little house, and found his father -eagerly watching for him.</p> - -<p>“You are a good son,—a good son,” said the -old man, in a broken voice. “She is no worse; -and Miss Hazleburn is with her.”</p> - -<p>Hazleburn! The name had a familiar -sound; but Morgan was too weary and agitated -to remember where he had heard it -before. He took his way at once to his -mother’s chamber.</p> - -<p>As he went in, a small, slight figure rose -from a chair by the bedside, and quietly glided -away. He scarcely looked at it in the gathering -dusk; moreover he had no thoughts, just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -then, for anybody but the mother who lay there -yearning for a sight of him.</p> - -<p>His coming seemed to do Mrs. Foster good, -and give her a new hold upon life. It was a -low nervous fever that had seized upon her, -taking away her strength by slow degrees, until -she had grown almost as helpless as an infant. -But God had sent her a friend in Eve Hazleburn. -And before he slept that night, Morgan -had heard from his father’s lips the story of -Miss Hazleburn’s unselfish kindness.</p> - -<p>Eve was one of those friendless beings who -are thrown entirely on their own resources, and -often get on better than the more favoured -children of fortune. She had an easy post as -governess in the family of Mr. Gold, a rich -Warwickshire merchant;—too easy, as she -sometimes said. For the little Golds had -holiday two or three times a week, and were -not on any account to be burdened with long -study hours. The house was in a perpetual -bustle; visitors constantly coming and going. -But if her employers were unjust to themselves,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -they were far from ungenerous to Eve. They -would fain have had her share in all their feastings -and merry-makings, and laughed and wondered -at her liking for retirement and peace.</p> - -<p>There had been sickness in their household. -Soon after Christmas the whole family had -gone away to a sheltered watering-place, leaving -Miss Hazleburn in charge of the house, and -of the two servants who remained in it.</p> - -<p>She had not made many friends in the city of -C——. Her Sundays were her own, and her -services in the Sunday-school had won gratitude -and approval from the vicar of the parish. -She went occasionally, but not often, to the -vicarage.</p> - -<p>The acquaintance between Morgan’s parents -and herself was nearly a year old. Their quiet -street ran along at the back of the merchant’s -great house, and Eve had watched the pair -sometimes from her chamber window. Then -there was a chance meeting, a slight service -rendered, and the governess became their -friend and frequent visitor.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - -<p>The absence of the Golds left her at liberty -to nurse Mrs. Foster in her illness. The -servants, being sober and trustworthy, required -little watching, and Eve’s time was her own. -None ever knew what it cost her to give up all -her leisure to the sick woman; none guessed -that a cherished plan was quietly laid aside for -Mrs. Foster’s sake. The manuscript which Eve -had hoped to complete in these holidays of -hers was put by. An inner voice told her that -God meant her to use her leisure in another -way; and Eve’s life was so still, so free from -turmoil and passion, that she could always hear -the voices that spoke to her soul.</p> - -<p>Days went and came. The old rector of -Huntsdean wrote kindly to his curate, bidding -him stay in Warwickshire as long as his mother -needed him. Nelly wrote too; such simple -loving letters that every word went like a stab -to Morgan’s heart. She also begged him not -to hasten his return for her sake. It was good -for her, her father told her, to have this slight -dash of bitterness in a cup that had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -over-sweet. And poor Nelly made so great a -show of heroism over this little trial of hers, -that those of her own household smiled.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Eve and Morgan met every day; -and he talked to her about her poem, which -was the only production of hers that had as -yet found its way into print. The poem was -the starting-point from whence they travelled -on into each other’s experiences. Ah, how -easily and quickly people glide into familiar -intercourse when there is a spiritual kinship -between them! Poor Morgan’s heart opened -to Eve as naturally as a flower uncloses to the -sun. Yet he never suspected that this was the -beginning of love.</p> - -<p>The curate had not told his parents of his -engagement. He had been morbidly afraid -that it would put a sense of distance between -the old people and himself. Therefore he -had said nothing about it in his letters, but -had waited till he should see them face to -face. But now that the time had come, he -feared to make the disclosure. His mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -was in no condition to bear any startling -news. And as to Miss Hazleburn—of what -consequence could his affairs be to her? So -the intimacy went on. He was too blind to -see the injustice that he was doing Nelly and -Eve herself.</p> - -<p>“We are really not very new friends,” he -said to the governess one day. “I knew you -through your poem. We met in the spirit -before we met in the flesh.”</p> - -<p>“Nobody need be solitary nowadays,” answered -Eve, brightly. “I have many such -spiritual friends, whom I shall probably never -see with my bodily eyes. Don’t you think -that one of the joys of eternity will be in -finding out what we have done for each other -unconsciously? I am often unspeakably grateful -for the printed words that have helped me -on.”</p> - -<p>“Do you find many companions in Mr. -Gold’s house?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said, frankly. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>“You know what -it is to like people, and yet have no affinity -with them. The Golds’ life is a perpetual -pleasure-hunt. Parents and children join in -the chase from morning till night; there is -little rest or stillness in the house. I should -be scarcely sorry to leave it.”</p> - -<p>“Are you thinking of leaving it?” Morgan -inquired.</p> - -<p>“Not yet. Indeed, I have no other home,” -she answered. “I had a hope, last year, that -one might be provided for me; but that is -over now.”</p> - -<p>They were sitting together in the Fosters’ -little parlour while this talk went on. It was -Sunday afternoon; Mrs. Foster, now steadily -making progress towards recovery, was asleep -upstairs, and her husband had ventured out -to church. The sun was getting low; a yellow -light came stealing over the roofs of the opposite -houses, and shone full upon Eve’s face. -Her last words had been spoken in a sad -tone; her eyes looked dreamily out into the -narrow street.</p> - -<p>She was very far from realizing the interpretation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -that Morgan had put upon her -remark. Nor did she dream of the sudden -turmoil that was working within him, as he -sat watching her face.</p> - -<p>She was not a pretty woman. She had the -charms that belong to symmetry of form, and -grace of manner and movement. But few of -those who were struck at once by Nelly Channell’s -beauty would have noticed Eve. They -would have failed to see the noble shape of -that small head, and the play of light and -shade on the careworn young face. Yet as -Morgan sat watching her, he was stung by the -sharpness of jealous agony. Had some man -wooed this girl, and been an accepted lover?</p> - -<p>He could not endure the idea that those -chance words of hers had conjured up. The -grand passion of his life was revealed to him -in a moment. He knew what he felt towards -Eve, and knew, too, that this was what he -ought to have felt towards another. This was -love. It was but a poor counterfeit thereof -that he had given to Nelly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Some people think nothing of breaking a -promise,” she continued, still looking out into -the street. “Years ago, when I was a child, -and my father was a prosperous man, his friend -Mr. Myrtle came to him in sore need of money. -My father lent him three thousand pounds. -The sum was lent without security, and it was -never repaid.”</p> - -<p>Morgan breathed more freely; but he -thought of Nelly’s legacy.</p> - -<p>“When my father felt himself to be dying,” -Eve went on, “he wrote to Mr. Myrtle, reminding -him once more of the debt. It was -for my sake that he did this, knowing that I -should be left quite friendless, and almost -penniless. And Mr. Myrtle promised to leave -me three thousand pounds in his will. He -died last year, Mr. Foster, but there was no -legacy for me.”</p> - -<p>Morgan’s words of sympathy sounded flat -and commonplace. He was too much overcome -with shame to be conscious of what he -was saying. It was almost a relief when his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -old father returned from church and broke up -the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i>.</p> - -<p>When Mrs. Foster was well enough to move -from her bed to a couch, the curate bethought -him of returning to Huntsdean. He did not -dare to think much of all that awaited him -there. He had lived a lifetime in the space -of a few weeks, and the village and its associations -looked unreal and far away. At this -time shame was his dominant feeling. He -forgot to pity himself for the blunder that he -had made—he thought only of his involuntary -treachery.</p> - -<p>He did not dream of making any confession -to Nelly; she should be no sufferer through -this dreadful mistake of his. And he wrote -her as lover-like a letter as he could frame, -telling her that he was coming home in a -few days.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a><br /></span></p> - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER XV. A CONFESSION OVERHEARD.">CHAPTER <abbr title="15">XV.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="15">XV.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">A CONFESSION OVERHEARD.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">It</span> was the afternoon of Morgan’s last day -in Warwickshire. He sat by his mother’s -couch, holding her thin hand in his, and wishing, -with all his heart, that she were the only -woman in the world who had any claim upon -him. She looked at him with a long earnest -look; once or twice her lips opened, but some -moments went by before she spoke.</p> - -<p>They were alone. Mr. Foster had pattered -off to the railway station, to seek for information -about the train by which Morgan was -to travel. As he sat there, with the dear -old woman who had shared all his early joys -and sorrows, he could not help longing to tell -her of his new trouble. But he knew not how -to begin. And then her gentle voice broke -the silence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a><br /></span></p> - -<p>“Morgan,” she said, “maybe I am going to -do a foolish thing. I never was a match-maker, -for I’ve always thought that God alone -ought to bring people together. But when -I see two who seem to be made for each other, -and one of them so near to me, how can I -help saying a word?”</p> - -<p>“Speak on, mother,” he answered, drawing -a long breath. He knew what was coming. -Well, at any rate it would give him the opportunity -of unburdening his heart.</p> - -<p>“I should like to see you engaged to Eve -Hazleburn,” she continued, gaining courage. -“She is as good as a daughter to me; but -that isn’t the reason that I want her for my -son’s wife. I want her, because there’s a sort -of likeness between you that makes me sure -you ought to be made one. And I’ve seen -your eyes follow her, Morgan, as if you thought -so too.”</p> - -<p>“It cannot be, mother,” said the curate, -almost passionately. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -“It cannot be, and yet -I know it ought to be! I am already engaged -to another woman; but I love Eve Hazleburn -as I shall never love again!”</p> - -<p>“God help us all!” sighed Mrs. Foster, -suddenly pressing his hand to enjoin silence. -It was too late. His voice had been raised -above its usual tone; and there stood Eve at -the open door.</p> - -<p>He did not care—he was almost glad that -she knew all. There had come upon him the -recklessness that often arises out of hopelessness. -If he must wear his chain, she should -know what a heavy weight it was!</p> - -<p>“Come in, Miss Hazleburn,” he said, rising -excitedly; “I am not sorry that you have -overheard me. Perhaps you will pity me a -little. Surely you can spare a grain of compassion -for the poor fool who has spoiled his -own life! I think you will, for you are a -good woman. Some women would glory in -a conquest of this sort, but you are not of -that number. Ah, I am talking nonsense, I -suppose.”</p> - -<p>Eve went straight up to him and laid her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -hand upon his arm. She could not pretend -to have heard nothing, and she would not have -told a lie if she could. Her light touch stopped -him in his impatient walk up and down the -little room.</p> - -<p>“Think of your mother, Mr. Foster,” she -said, softly. “She is not strong enough to bear -a scene.”</p> - -<p>He sat down again by the couch, and buried -his face in the cushion on which Mrs. Foster’s -head rested. It was a boyish action; but Eve -knew that the best men in the world generally -keep a touch of boyishness about them. Her -heart ached for him as she stood looking down -upon the bowed head. And then the mother’s -glance met hers, and both women began to -weep silently.</p> - -<p>“I’m a foolish old body,” said poor Mrs. -Foster. “It’s a mistake to go knocking at the -door of any heart, even if it’s that of one’s -child. I had better have held my tongue, and -left all to God.”</p> - -<p>“It is better as it is,” Morgan answered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -raising his head, and speaking more quietly. -“I am less miserable than I was before. And -Miss Hazleburn will understand,” he added, -with a little pride, “that although I am an -unhappy man, I don’t mean to be a traitor. -I do not wish to recall anything I have said. -Every word was true; and now that she knows -all, she will pray for me.”</p> - -<p>Eve stood before him and held out her -hand.</p> - -<p>“I am going now,” she said. “God bless -you, Mr. Foster. You shall have all the blessings -that my prayers can win for you; and the -truest respect and friendship that a woman can -give. Perhaps we shall never meet again. -If we do, I think this scene will seem like a -dream to us both.”</p> - -<p>She went her way out of the shabby little -house into the narrow street. Had God -nothing better to give her than this? Had -He shown her the beautiful land of Might-have-been -only to send her back, doubly -desolate, into the wilderness? These were the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -first rebellious questions that arose in Eve’s -heart, and it was some time before they were -answered.</p> - -<p>Early on the following morning she went -to the window of her room, and looked between -the slats of the Venetian blind. It was chill -and grey out-of-doors. The sun had not yet -fully risen, and only a faint pallor was to be -seen in the eastern sky. Presently a fly -stopped at the door of that shabby little house -which she knew so well. Then the flyman -knocked; the door opened, and he entered, -soon reappearing with a <span lang = "fr" xml:lang = "fr">portmanteau</span>. Another -figure followed, tall and black-coated. At the -sight of it poor Eve uttered a low cry, and -pressed her hands tightly together. A moment -more, and the fly had rattled off down the -street, and had turned the corner on its way to -the railway station.</p> - -<p>Was that to be the end of it all? Shivering -and forlorn, she went back to her bed, and lay -there for a time, mutely praying for strength -and peace.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>Afterwards, she knew all that Morgan’s -mother could tell her about his engagement. -And she knew, too, that Nelly Channell was -the lady to whom Mr. Myrtle had left the three -thousand pounds. It seemed to her just then, -poor girl, as if Nelly were taking all the things -that ought to have been hers. But this mood -did not last long, and she was sorry that such -bitter thoughts should have found their way -into her heart. The Golds came back from the -seaside early in March, and the ordinary way -of life began again.</p> - -<p>Morgan, too, had gone back to his work, -but it was harder for him than for Eve. She -had no part to sustain—no love to simulate. -And she had the consolation of his mother’s -friendship, and the sad delight of reading his -letters. In those letters no mention was ever -made of her; but they told of a life of daily -struggles—a life whose best comfort was found -in labour. Eve and Mrs. Foster wept over -them together, and clung to each other with -a new tenderness. The mother had faith, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -she believed that her son would be set free. -She ventured, once or twice, to say this to Eve, -but the girl shook her head.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said, “we must not look for that. -We ought rather to pray that the ties may -grow pleasant instead of irksome.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” replied Mrs. Foster, thoughtfully. -“I almost think it is best to pray for -the freedom. It was not the right kind of -feeling, Eve, that led him to propose to Miss -Channell. He was startled into it, and it really -seemed at first as if that were the way that -God meant him to go.”</p> - -<p>“He should have stood still, and just have -waited for guidance,” Eve remarked, sadly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know that,” admitted the mother. -“But do not most of our troubles come to us -because we will not wait? We all find it -easier to run than to stand still.”</p> - -<p>While these other hearts were throbbing with -restless pain, Nelly Channell was serenely -happy. She complained at times that Morgan -was working too hard, and wearing himself out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -but she never thought of attributing his wan -looks to any cause save that of over-exertion.</p> - -<p>But Robert Channell had a keener sight; -and he began to ask himself, uneasily, if he -had been right in letting this engagement -come to pass? In his heart of hearts he owned -that he had been secretly anxious to secure -the curate for his daughter. It was the desire -of his life that Nelly should marry a good man, -and Morgan Foster was the best man that had -as yet come in her way. Perhaps he, too, had -been running when he ought to have stood -still. He began to think that this was the case.</p> - -<p>But how could he undo what was done? -In his perplexity he talked the matter over -with his wife. And she admitted that the -curate did not seem to be quite at ease in -Nelly’s company. There was a shadow upon -him. It might be a consciousness of failing -health, or——</p> - -<p>“Or of failing love,” said Mr. Channell, -finishing her sentence. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>“If that is it, Rhoda, -it is a miserable affair indeed! We ought to -have made them wait before we sanctioned -the engagement. But you know I wanted -to keep her safe from those selfish, worldly -men who have been seeking her.”</p> - -<p>“We are always afraid to trust God with -anything dear to us,” answered Mrs. Channell, -sadly. “But if Morgan Foster has mistaken -his own feelings, Robert, it will be hard to -condemn him, and equally hard to forgive him.”</p> - -<p>Summer came. And early in July all the -gossips in Huntsdean were talking of the rich -family who had taken Laurel House. Mr. -Gold, they said, was a retired merchant from -Warwickshire, who was as wealthy as a nabob. -His household consisted of a wife and six -children, a governess, and menservants and -maidservants. And when Nelly heard that -the governess was a Miss Hazleburn, the name -awoke no recollections. She had quite forgotten -the little poem in the <cite>Monthly Guest</cite>.</p> - -<p>The Channells called on the new-comers, and -were received by Miss Hazleburn. Illness kept -Mrs. Gold in her own room for some weeks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -after her arrival in Huntsdean, and on Eve -devolved the unwelcome task of seeing visitors. -The one whom she most dreaded and most -longed to see did not come. She saw him in -church, and that was all. She had determined -that her stay in Huntsdean should be as short -as possible. Already she was answering advertisements, -and doing her utmost to get away -from the place. It was hard upon her, she -thought, that among the earliest callers should -be Nelly Channell.</p> - -<p>Yet when she saw the girl she felt a thrill -of secret satisfaction. This, then, was the -woman before whom she was preferred; and -Eve’s eyes told her that she could no more -be compared with Nelly than a daisy can be -compared with a rose! But the poor daisy, -growing in life’s highway, unsheltered from the -storms of the world, was loved better than the -beautiful garden flower. She was human, and -she could not help rejoicing in her unsuspected -triumph.</p> - -<p>Nelly took a girl’s sudden and unreasonable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -liking to the governess. She wanted Miss -Hazleburn to be her friend; she talked of her -to everybody, including Morgan Foster.</p> - -<p>“Have you seen her, Morgan?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I have seen her in church,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“Then you haven’t called on the Golds yet,” -said Nelly. “Why don’t you go there?”</p> - -<p>“The rector has called,” Morgan replied, -“and there really is no need for a curate to be -thrusting himself into rich folks’ houses unless -they are ill.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t mind coming to our house,” -rejoined Nelly, “and I daresay we are as rich -as the Golds. But you can’t judge of Miss -Hazleburn by seeing her in church, Morgan. -It is in conversation that you find out how -charming she is. And actually there is something -in her that reminds me of you! I can’t -tell where the resemblance lies—it may be in -the voice, or it may be in the face, but I am -certain that it exists.”</p> - -<p>“It exists only in your imagination,” said -Morgan, bent upon changing the subject.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> - -<p>Before Mrs. Gold had entirely recovered, -Nelly had got into a habit of running in and -out of the house. It was about three-quarters -of a mile from her home, and stood on the -summit of the green downs which she had loved -in her childhood. The garden slanted down -from the back of the house to these open downs: -it was raised above the slopes and terminated in -a gravelled terrace; and so low was this terrace -that Nelly could easily climb upon it and go -straying into the shrubbery. She had done -this dozens of times while Laurel House was -empty, for the old garden, with its thick hedges -of laurel and yew, had always been a favourite -haunt of hers. Finding that the Golds were -free-and-easy people, who gladly welcomed the -pretty trespasser, she chose to keep up her old -custom.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER XVI. HOW THE TRUTH CAME OUT.">CHAPTER <abbr title="16">XVI.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="16">XVI.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">HOW THE TRUTH CAME OUT.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">One</span> August evening, when it was too sultry to -stay indoors, Nelly wandered out into the lanes -alone. She had told Morgan that she was -going to drive into the nearest town on a -shopping expedition, and should not return till -dusk. But one of her ponies had fallen lame, -and she had given up the plan.</p> - -<p>On she went, saying a kind word or two to -the villagers as she passed their cottages. -They all loved Nelly well. Her bright face -came amongst them like a sunbeam; even the -smallest children had a smile for her as she -went by. She was so young and healthy and -beautiful that many an admiring glance -followed her tall figure. She belonged to -Huntsdean, and Huntsdean was proud of -her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/i-141.jpg" width="500" height="323" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="caption">On she went through the village.—Page 191.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>She made straight for the downs, tripping -up the green slopes, and startling the browsing -sheep. She gave a friendly nod to the little -shepherd-boy who lay idly stretched upon -the grass. And then, as she had done often -enough before, she mounted the gravelled terrace, -and sat down on a rustic bench behind -the hedge of laurels.</p> - -<p>From this spot she could not see Laurel -House at all. The high wall of evergreens -completely shut in the view of the residence -and its garden. The gravelled terrace was -divided from the grounds by this thick hedge, -and was only approached from the house by one -long straight path of turf. The path terminated -in an arch, formed by the carefully-kept shrubs, -and giving access to the platform; and any -one walking on the downs must go up to the -middle of the terrace and look through this -archway before he could get a glimpse of the -house.</p> - -<p>Nelly knew that Miss Hazleburn liked to -walk up and down the turfy path when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -day’s duties were done. She meant to rest herself -for a few minutes before entering the garden.</p> - -<p>The bench was at the very end of the platform. -She loved the seat because it commanded -an extensive view of the surrounding -country. Beyond the Huntsdean downs she -could see other hills lying far away, softly -outlined against the summer evening sky. -And nearer lay the dearer old meadows and -homesteads and the long tracts of woodland,—all -familiar and beloved scenes to the girl -who had been born and bred among them. -The air was very still; even here it was but a -faint breath of wind that fanned her flushed -cheeks; but the coolness on these highlands -was delightful after the closeness of the vale. -She sat and enjoyed it in silence.</p> - -<p>Quite suddenly the sound of voices broke -the stillness. The speakers were hidden from -Nelly’s gaze, for the tones came from the other -side of the laurel hedge. Eve Hazleburn’s -accents, clear and musical, could be recognised -in a moment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I am going away next week,” she said, -“going back to Warwickshire, Mr. Foster, I -wrote to Mr. Lindley, the good Vicar of C——, -and he has found a place for me. I am to -be companion to an invalid lady whose house -is close to the street where your father and -mother live. They will be glad to have me -near them again.”</p> - -<p>She spoke rapidly, and a little louder than -usual. Nelly, overwhelmed with astonishment, -sat still, without giving a thought to her -position as an eavesdropper.</p> - -<p>“I have kept away from you—I have tried -not to think of you!” cried Morgan Foster, in -irrepressible anguish. “God does not help me -in this matter. I have prayed, worked, struggled, -yet I get no relief. What shall I do, -Eve—what shall I do?”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i-209.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><p class="caption">Eve Hazleburn and Morgan Foster.—Page 194.</p></div> -</div> - -<p>“You must endure to the end,” she answered, -with a little sob. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>“God will make it easier by-and-by. -Oh, I was so sorry to come here, Mr. -Foster; but I could not help it! We will -never meet again, you and I. Yet I am glad -that I know Miss Channell. I will go and tell -the old people what a sweet bright girl she is; -and they will soon learn to love her. It will -all come right in the end.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, if I could believe that!” said the -curate. “But I can’t. It is madness to think -that a wrong path can have a right ending. -Sometimes I am persuaded it would be best -to tell her everything.”</p> - -<p>“If you did,” cried Eve, sternly, “you would -break her heart. And don’t think—pray don’t -think, Mr. Foster, that I would build my house -on the ruins of another woman’s happiness! -When I am gone,” and the proud voice -trembled, “you will learn to submit to circumstances. -We are not likely to cross each -other’s paths again; you will be a rich -man——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the money makes it all the harder to -bear!” interrupted Morgan, bitterly. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>“That -three thousand pounds that Mr. Myrtle promised -to leave to you has been left to her. -Did you know this?”</p> - -<p>Nelly did not wait to hear Eve’s reply. -Swiftly and noiselessly she sprang from the -terrace on to the smooth sod beneath, her -muslin dress making no rustle as she moved. -Away she sped down the green slopes; the -sheep parted to left and right before her -flying footsteps; the shepherd-lad stared after -her in amazement. She did not take the road -that led through the village. In her misery -and bewilderment she remembered that she -could not bear the friendly good-nights of the -cottagers. She struck wildly across the fields, -regardless of the wet grass, and the brambles -that tore her thin skirts as she dashed through -the gaps in the hedges, until she came to the -side of the brook, where she was alone in her -grief. She was not thinking at all; she was only -feeling—feeling passionately and bitterly—that -she had been cruelly wronged and deceived.</p> - -<p>“Oh those two!” she moaned aloud, as her -home came in sight. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>“The man whom I loved—the girl whom I would have made my -friend!”</p> - -<p>Robert Channell and his wife were sitting -together in the library. He had been reading -aloud: Shakespeare still lay open on his knee, -and Rhoda occupied a low chair by his side. -They were talking, as happy married people -love to talk, of the old days when God first -brought them together.</p> - -<p>While they chatted in low tones, the day -was fast closing in. The French windows -stood open, and the first breath of the night -wind stole into the room. A dusky golden -haze was settling down over the garden; the -air was heavy with flower-scents and the faint -odours of fallen leaves. Suddenly a great -shower of petals from over-blown roses drifted -through the casement, and Nelly swept in after -them.</p> - -<p>She sank down on her knees, shivering in -her limp, wet dress, and hid her face in her -stepmother’s lap. And then the story was -told from beginning to end.</p> - -<p>An hour later, Rhoda was sitting by -Nelly’s pillow, talking to her in the sweet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -hush of the August twilight. Already the -heat of anger had passed away. The girl’s -thoughts had gone back, as Rhoda knew they -would, to that winter afternoon when Morgan -had asked her to become engaged to him.</p> - -<p>“Mamma,” she said, piteously, “he has -never loved me at all. He gave me all he -could give; but it was only the silver, not -the gold. It is very, very humiliating, but it -is the truth, and it must be faced. To-night -when I heard him speaking to Eve Hazleburn, -I understood the difference between -love and liking. He liked me, and perhaps -he saw—more than I meant him to see! O -mamma, I was very young and foolish!”</p> - -<p>It touched Rhoda to hear Nelly speak of -her old self in the past tense. Yet it was a -fact; the youth and the folly had had their -day. Nelly would never be so young again, -for sorrow takes away girlhood when it -teaches wisdom.</p> - -<p>“I heard Eve say,” she went on, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>“that -she would never build her house on the ruins -of another woman’s happiness; and God -forbid that I should build mine on ground -that has never rightly belonged to me! But -I wish he had told me the truth. He has -done me a greater wrong in hiding it, than -in speaking it out.”</p> - -<p>“Nelly,” said her stepmother, tenderly, -“we believe that Morgan has been a blunderer, -but not a traitor. We have blundered -terribly ourselves. We ought not to have let -the engagement take place until we had -tested the strength of his attachment. We -wanted to guard you from unworthy suitors; -and in taking you out of danger, we led you -into sorrow.”</p> - -<p>“I was very foolish,” repeated Nelly, with -a sigh.</p> - -<p>“Don’t forget,” Rhoda continued, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>“that -God can bless those whom He puts asunder, -as well as those whom He joins together. -It is better to dwell apart than to live together -with divided souls. He saw we were -too weak and stupid to set our mistake right, -and He has done it for us. While we were -gazing helplessly at the knot, He cut the -thread.”</p> - -<p>It was on a Saturday evening that Nelly’s -love affair came to an end. She was in her -place in church on Sunday morning, and -during the rest of the day she kept much by -her father’s side. They had talked the -matter over and over, and had arranged all -their plans before the night closed in. And -Nelly thanked God that the anger had gone -away from her heart, although the sorrow -remained.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER XVII. AN UNLOOKED-FOR RELEASE.">CHAPTER <abbr title="17">XVII.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="17">XVII.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">AN UNLOOKED-FOR RELEASE.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">Very</span> early on Monday, the Golds’ -governess took her departure from Huntsdean. -The train bore her away through the -pleasant southern counties while the dew was -still shining on the meadows. On and on it -went; past cottages, standing amid fruit-laden -trees, and gardens where Michaelmas -daisies were in bloom; past yellow fields, -where the corn was falling under the sickles -of the reapers. Hedges were gay with -Canterbury bells and ragged robins. Here -and there were dashes of gold on the deep -green of the woods. Eve Hazleburn, quiet -and tearless, looked out upon the smiling -country, and bade it a mute farewell.</p> - -<p>Afterwards, two carriages laden with -luggage drove out of the village, taking the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -road that led to the neighbouring seaport -town. The first contained the two little -Channells and their nurses; in the second -sat Rhoda and Nelly. And before the -vehicles were out of sight, Robert Channell -had turned his steps in the direction of the -curate’s lodging.</p> - -<p>He met the young man in the lane outside -the sexton’s cottage, and gave him a -kindly good morning.</p> - -<p>“I am the bearer of startling news, -Morgan,” he said, slipping a little note into -his hand. “Let us come under the shade -of the churchyard trees. And now, Morgan, -before you read the note, I want to ask you -to forgive my Nelly.”</p> - -<p>“Forgive Nelly!” stammered the curate, -thinking that if all could be known it would -be Nelly’s part to forgive him.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” the father answered. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>“Try to -think of her as a dear, foolish child who -has made a grave mistake. She has sent -me to break off her engagement with you, -Morgan. She begs you, through me, to forgive -her for any pain that she may cause -you. She wants you to remember her kindly -always, but neither to write to her, nor seek -to see her again.”</p> - -<p>The curate was silent for some moments. -No suspicion of the truth crossed his mind. -He concluded, not unnaturally, that he had -been too quiet and grave a lover for the -bright girl. That was all.</p> - -<p>When he spoke, his words were very -few. Perhaps Nelly’s father respected him -none the less because he made no pretence -of great sorrow. His face was pale, and his -voice trembled a little, as he said quietly,—</p> - -<p>“If you will come into my lodging, Mr. -Channell, I will give you Nelly’s letters and -her portrait. She may like to have them -back again without delay.”</p> - -<p>They walked out of the churchyard, and -down the lane to the sexton’s cottage. And then -Morgan left Mr. Channell sitting in the little -parlour, while he went upstairs to his room.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<p>The hour of release had come. He took -out a plain gold locket, which had always -been worn unseen, and detached it from its -guard. He opened it, and looked long and -sadly at the fair face that it contained. It -was a delicately-painted photograph, true to -life; and locket and portrait had been -Nelly’s first gift. The smile was her own -smile, frank and bright; the brown eyes -seemed to look straight at the gazer. “O -Nelly,” he said, kissing the picture, “why -couldn’t I love you better? Thank God for -this painless parting! No wonder that you -wearied of me, dear; you will be a thousand -times freer and happier without me.”</p> - -<p>Presently he came downstairs, and entered -the parlour with the locket and a little -packet of letters. These he gave silently -into Mr. Channell’s hands.</p> - -<p>“Morgan,” said Robert Channell, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>“I am -heartily sorry for this. Don’t think that I -shall cease to feel for you as a friend, because -I cannot have you for a son-in-law.”</p> - -<p>“I shall never forget all your kindness,” -Morgan answered, in a low voice. “But I -shall soon leave this place, Mr. Channell.”</p> - -<p>“Better so, perhaps,” Robert responded. -“You ought to labour in a larger sphere. You -have great capacities for hard work, Morgan.”</p> - -<p>Then the two men parted with a close -hand-shake. And Mr. Channell looked back -to say, almost carelessly,—</p> - -<p>“My family have migrated to Southsea for -a month or two. I follow them to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>It would be too much to say that the -curate “regained his freedom with a sigh.” -Yet certain it is that this unlooked-for release -set his heart aching; it might be that his -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">amour propre</i> was slightly wounded, for was -it not a little hard to find that the girl for -whom he had been making a martyr of himself -could do very well without him? He -had climbed the height of self-sacrifice only -to find deliverance. The spirit of sacrifice had -been required of him, but the crowning act -was not demanded.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> - -<p>He read Nelly’s note again. It was a very -commonplace little letter, written in a sloping, -feminine hand. She used that stereotyped -phrase which, hackneyed as it is, does as -well or better than any other, “I feel we are -not suited for each other.” This was the -sole excuse offered for breaking the engagement, -and surely it was excuse enough.</p> - -<p>How could he know that these few trite -sentences had been written in the anguish of -a woman’s first great sorrow? We don’t -recognise the majesty of woe when it masquerades -in every-day garments. It needs a -Divine sight to find out the real heroes and -heroines of life. If Morgan had been questioned -about Nelly, the term “heroine” would -have been the very last that he would have -applied to her. And yet Nelly, quite unconsciously, -had acted in the true spirit of -heroism.</p> - -<p>By-and-by the sense of relief began to make -itself felt, and Morgan’s heart grew wonderfully -light. He went through his usual routine of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -duties, and then took his way to the rectory. -He must give the rector timely notice of his -intention to resign his curacy.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Robert Channell had proceeded -to Laurel House. Mrs. Gold received him -in a depressed manner. Her governess, she -said, had left her; and she seemed to consider -that Miss Hazleburn had used her -unkindly. She did not know how such a -useful person could be replaced. Nobody -would ever satisfy her so well as Miss Hazleburn -had done. Yes, she could give the -governess’s address to Mr. Channell. She -had chosen to go to Warwickshire, to live -with an invalid lady. Mrs. Gold hoped she -would find the post unbearably dull, and -return to her former situation.</p> - -<p>“There is little probability of that,” thought -Robert Channell, as he went his way with the -address in his pocket-book. And then he -thought of Nelly’s face and voice when she -had stated her intention of giving up Mr. -Myrtle’s legacy to Eve.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I won’t keep anything that isn’t fairly -mine,” she had said; “let her have both the -lover and the money.”</p> - -<p>Eve never ceased to wonder how the -Channells had found out that Mr. Myrtle -had owed her father three thousand pounds.</p> - -<p>October had just set in when Eve and -Morgan met again. It was Sunday morning, -and she was on her way to that beautiful -old church which is the chief glory of the -city of C——. The bells were chiming; the -ancient street was bright with autumn light; -far above them rose the tall spire, rising high -into the calm skies.</p> - -<p>They said very little to each other at that -moment. A great deal had already been -said on paper, and they could afford to be -quiet just then. Together they entered the -church, a happy pair of worshippers, “singing -and making melody in their hearts to the -Lord.” “A thousand times happier,” Eve remarked -afterwards, “than we could ever have -dared to be if another had suffered for our joy.”</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - -<div class = "chapter"> - -<h2 class = "faux" title = "CHAPTER XVIII. WHAT GOD HATH JOINED TOGETHER.">CHAPTER <abbr title="18">XVIII.</abbr></h2> - -<p class = "faux_h">CHAPTER <abbr title="18">XVIII.</abbr></p> - -<p class = "chapter_name">WHAT GOD HATH JOINED TOGETHER.</p> - - -<p><span class = "smcap">About</span> two years ago, a great crowd assembled -in one of the largest churches in London -to hear a popular preacher. He had, it was -said, a rare power of touching men’s hearts, -and of lifting their thoughts out of the mire -and clay of this working-day world. And -often, too, his wife’s name was coupled with -his; for she, by her written words, was doing -angels’ work among the people. Fashionable -society knew them only as preacher and -writer; but some of the unfashionable were -better acquainted with them.</p> - -<p>In the crowd were two persons who -managed to get good seats in the middle -aisle. They were husband and wife; he a -brave soldier, she a beautiful woman. It -would not have been easy to have found a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -couple better matched, or better satisfied -with each other. They exchanged a quick -glance of intelligence when the preacher ascended -the pulpit stairs, and then composed -themselves to listen.</p> - -<p>They were not disappointed in him. As -they listened, they understood how and why -he won such a ready hearing; and when the -sermon was over, Nelly turned to her husband -again with the old bright look; and he -answered her with a slight nod of satisfaction. -Then, and not till then, did she perceive a -familiar face at the top of the pew.</p> - -<p>As Nelly looked once more on Eve, -there was revealed to her a strange glimpse -of what might have been if those two had -been kept apart, and she had taken Eve’s -place. She saw herself a restless, unsatisfied -wife, always craving for a vague something -that was withheld. She saw Morgan crippled, -not helped, by her riches; a good man still, -but one who had, somehow, missed his footing, -and failed to climb so high as had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -expected of him. And she comprehended, -fully and thankfully, the great love and pity -of that Being who had saved them from their -mistake.</p> - -<p>There was a quiet hand-clasp in the -crowded aisle; and then these two women -went their respective ways. And a voice -seemed to be ringing in Nelly’s ears, as she -leaned upon her husband’s arm.</p> - -<p>“I am thinking,” she said, “of something -that was spoken long ago. It was when I -was in great trouble, dear, and felt as if I -couldn’t be comforted. ‘Don’t forget,’ my -stepmother said to me, ‘that God can bless -those whom He puts asunder as well as -those whom He joins together.’ And I think -I’m realizing the truth of those words to-night.”</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class = "transnote"> -<h2 class = "nopagebreak" title = "">Transcriber's Note:</h2> -<p>All variable hyphenation and variant spelling has been retained. However, obvious printer's errors have been corrected.</p> -<p>All obvious punctuation errors have been repaired.</p> -</div> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Nelly Channell, by Sarah Doudney - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NELLY CHANNELL *** - -***** This file should be named 54596-h.htm or 54596-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/5/9/54596/ - -Produced by Melissa McDaniel, Mhairi and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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