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diff --git a/old/68179-0.txt b/old/68179-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dc28f09..0000000 --- a/old/68179-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7127 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The triumph over Midian, by A. L. O. -E. - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The triumph over Midian - -Author: A. L. O. E. - -Release Date: May 26, 2022 [eBook #68179] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIUMPH OVER MIDIAN *** - - - - - - -[Illustration: GIDEON’S NIGHT ATTACK ON THE MIDIANITES - -Page 236.] - - - - -[Illustration] - - THE - TRIUMPH OVER MIDIAN. - - _By - A. L. O. E._ - - _Author of “The Shepherd of Bethlehem,” “Exiles in Babylon,” - “Rescued from Egypt,” &c._ - - [Illustration] - - LONDON: - T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; - EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. - - 1874. - - - - -[Illustration: PREFACE] - - -In attempting to illustrate the history of the victory of Gideon, I am -conscious that I am entering on well-trodden ground. Others have gathered -the lessons and examined the types with which that portion of the -Scripture-field is so richly studded. I lay claim to little originality -of thought on the subject which I have chosen. A humble task has been -mine; that of endeavouring to show that the same faith by which heroes of -old _out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to -flight the armies of the aliens_, is still, as the gift of God’s grace, -bestowed on the lowliest Christian. Writing, as I have done, under the -depressing influence of domestic sorrow, and the languor of weak health, -I feel how very imperfectly I have executed my task; but I humbly -commend my little work to Him who despiseth not the feeble, and whose -blessing on the humblest instrument can make it effectual in His service. - - A. L. O. E. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: CONTENTS] - - - I. THE RETURN, 9 - - II. BROKEN BUBBLES, 19 - - III. LECTURE I.—MIDIANITES IN POSSESSION, 39 - - IV. THE LITTLE MAID, 49 - - V. THE DEATH-BED MESSAGE, 62 - - VI. LECTURE II.—FAITH IN THE PROMISE, 76 - - VII. A SERMON BY THE FIRESIDE, 85 - - VIII. THE SISTER’S VISIT, 96 - - IX. LECTURE III.—FAITH IN OBEDIENCE, 112 - - X. OPENING THE CASKET, 122 - - XI. TIDINGS, 133 - - XII. LECTURE IV.—FAITH IN TRIAL, 145 - - XIII. A PROMISE, 154 - - XIV. SUSPICIONS, 169 - - XV. EVIL TONGUES, 183 - - XVI. LECTURE V.—FAITH CONFIRMED, 196 - - XVII. DISCLOSURE, 203 - - XVIII. MERCY AND SELF-DENIAL, 214 - - XIX. REFRESHMENT, 227 - - XX. LECTURE VI.—FAITH VICTORIOUS, 235 - - XXI. BONDAGE, 243 - - XXII. THE NIGHT, 252 - - XXIII. A SISTER’S VOICE, 259 - - XXIV. A TRIUMPH, 277 - - XXV. LECTURE VII.—FAITH CROWNED, 288 - - XXVI. CONCLUSION, 298 - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -THE TRIUMPH OVER MIDIAN. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE RETURN. - - -“Home, once more at home!” how joyful sounded the exclamation from the -lips of Edith Lestrange, and how brightly sparkled her eyes as she -uttered it, as, with a step light as a fawn’s, she revisited each spot -which five years’ absence had only made more dear. With joyous impatience -she ascended the broad oaken staircase of Castle Lestrange, to flit like -a fairy from room to room, lingering longest in the old nursery, where -she had known childhood’s pleasures, with not a few of its sorrows—and -the playroom, in which her toys were still stored. There was the doll -that had been to her as a companion, to which the lonely little heiress -had whispered many a trouble; the pretty picture-books, the miniature -tea-things of delicate china, that had been such sources of amusement. It -was a pleasure to Edith, from recollections of “auld lang syne,” to touch -and handle these childish treasures, though at the age of eleven she -deemed herself no longer a child. - -Then to the newly-returned traveller how great were the delights of the -garden and the park,—the one bright with the flowers of spring, the -other donning its light green robe, while in the sheltered mossy dells -fragrance of violets filled the air. Edith almost wondered that the -light-footed deer should bound away on her approach: her heart felt so -full of joy and kindness, that it seemed strange that any living creature -should fear her. The heiress of Lestrange took pleasure in visiting the -cottage of her father’s steward, where the familiar faces of Holdich and -his wife were as the faces of old friends, bright with hearty welcome. -Her canary, cared for by Mrs. Holdich during her absence, was tamer than -ever, and its quivering notes of delight seemed to its youthful mistress -an echo of the music of happiness which sounded within her own soul. - -For Edith did not return to the castle of her ancestors as she had left -it five years before—a feeble, fragile invalid. She no longer painfully -dragged her weary limbs along, with languor oppressing her spirits; -springing and elastic was the step which now bounded over the mossy -turf. The cheeks that had been almost as colourless as the snowdrop, -had now a faint dawn of colour upon them, like that on the opening buds -of the apple-blossom. Edith was still a delicate plant, like an exotic -reared in a hot-house, but an exotic skilfully tended, expanding its -petals in healthful life. - -“Oh, how true it is that there is no place like home!” exclaimed Edith, -as she sauntered up the broad avenue, with sunshine on her path, and the -blue cloud-flecked sky smiling above her. - -The observation was addressed to her cousin, Isa Gritton, who was -spending a day at the Castle, a short time after the return of Sir Digby -Lestrange and his daughter. Isa was a young lady whose age might be about -two or three and twenty, and who might therefore have scarcely been -deemed a suitable companion for one so youthful as Edith, had not the -little heiress possessed a mind so early matured by the discipline of -trial that she was scarcely regarded as a child by those who intimately -knew her. Isa Gritton was a tall and graceful girl, with auburn hair, and -eyes like those of the gazelle—large, soft, and expressive: mirroring -each passing emotion, whether it were that of mirth and gladness, or, as -was now the case, a shadow of painful thought. - -“Do you not feel with me,” said Edith, “that there is a charm in the very -name of _home_?” - -[Illustration: THE COUSINS.] - -“I did so once,” replied Isa, with a sigh; “but for the last two years, -since the loss of my dear father, I cannot be said to have had a real -home.” - -“But you have one now, dear Isa,” said Edith; “and oh, how glad I am -that your brother chose to build one at Wildwaste, so near us. Why, even -I—who never perform great feats in the walking line—will be able to -manage the distance on foot; it is barely a mile, I hear. I dare say that -Mr. Gritton kindly chose the site of his house there on purpose that you -might be near your uncle and cousin. To meet you often, very often, will -be such a pleasure to me; I shall feel as if I had at last what I have so -often longed for, a sister to share all my sorrows and joys. I will soon -return your visit, and you shall show me your brother’s new house. Has he -not built a charming retreat, with a pretty garden and shrubbery round -it?” - -Isa Gritton laughed: but there was a little bitterness in the laugh. -“Tastes differ,” she replied; “and Gaspar having been his own architect, -he doubtless admires his work. But my ideal of beauty is hardly realized -by a house that looks as if a geni had transplanted it bodily from -one of the smaller streets of London, in all the newness of yellowish -brick as yet undarkened by soot, and had dropped it on the edge of a -morass—not a tree within half a mile of it—where it stands staring out -of its blindless windows as if wondering how it came there, with nothing -to remind it of London but the great soap manufactory, which is the most -conspicuous object in the view, the smoke of which might do duty for that -of a whole street in the city.” - -“How could Mr. Gritton build such a house, and in such a place!” -exclaimed Edith in surprise; “I could not fancy you in a home that was -not pretty and picturesque. I have no clear remembrance of Wildwaste save -as a wide flat common sprinkled with gorse, for I seldom or never visited -the hamlet when I was a little child.” - -“You will scarcely care to visit it often now, except out of compassion -for me,” said Isa, smiling. “Mr. Eardley tells me, however, that -Wildwaste, bad as it is, is greatly improved from what it was some years -ago, when it had nothing in the shape of a school.” - -“Mr. Eardley—then you know him?” cried Edith, brightening at the mention -of the pastor whom she reverenced and loved. - -“Yes,” replied Isa; “though, Wildwaste not being in the parish of Axe, we -do not belong to his flock. Mr. Eardley had heard, through your steward’s -wife, I believe, that we wanted a girl to help in the house. He called to -recommend to us a young protegée of his own, a black-eyed gipsy-looking -little creature, who blushes scarlet when she is spoken to, and seems to -be afraid of the sound of her own voice. I think, however, that with a -little training Lottie Stone will suit us very well.” - -“Do you not like Mr. Eardley?” said Edith, looking as if assured that the -answer must be in the affirmative. - -“Very much; I wish that he were our clergyman instead of Mr. Bull, who -must be nearly eighty years old, and who—but I don’t think it well to -criticize preachers.” - -“We attend the service at Axe—we drive there, for it is much too far -off for a walk,” said Edith Lestrange. “You shall come with us every -Sunday—that is to say,” she added, with a little hesitation, “if you -don’t mind leaving your brother. Papa does not like more than three in -the carriage.” - -“Perhaps I ought not to leave Gaspar,” said Isa, gravely; and she added, -but not aloud, “if I were not with him, I fear that he would not go to a -place of worship at all.—No, Edith,” she said to her cousin, “I am afraid -that I cannot accompany you to Axe on Sundays, but I have promised Mr. -Eardley to bring Lottie twice a week to the little cottage-lectures which -he gives in the dwelling of Holdich the steward.” - -“Then we shall always meet there,” observed Edith. “I have such a sweet -remembrance of those cottage-meetings, though I was such a little girl -when I went to them that of course I could not understand all that I -heard. I felt as if there were such peace, and holiness, and Christian -kindness in that quiet home-church, where young and old, and rich and -poor, gathered to hear God’s truth, and pray and praise together. And -Holdich himself is such a good man,” continued Edith warmly: “it is not -merely that he does not mind openly confessing his religion—whatever -people may think of it—but that he lives up to what he professes. Papa -went on the Continent, you know, rather in haste, and there had been a -little confusion in his affairs, and no time to set them right. Papa was -always so generous, and those about him had abused his confidence so -sadly.” - -“Yes, I heard something of that,” observed Isa, who, like the rest of the -world, was aware that Sir Digby’s ostentatious extravagance had plunged -him into pecuniary difficulties, and that change of air for his invalid -child, though the ostensible, had not been the only cause of his retreat. - -“But Holdich has brought everything into such beautiful order,” continued -Edith,—“he has quite surprised papa by the way in which he has managed -the estate. He has cared for his master’s interests as much, I think -_more_ than if they had been his own. Papa used to suspect people who had -the name of being very pious, but he said this morning at breakfast, ‘A -man like my steward, who brings his Christianity into his daily dealings, -does more to convince infidels of the real power of faith than all the -learned books that ever were written.’ I treasured up the words to repeat -them to Holdich’s wife. I think that she and her husband are the happiest -people that I know, and especially now that their son is doing so well as -a schoolmaster under Mr. Eardley.” - -“The subject of the new series of cottage-lectures is to be Gideon’s -Triumph over Midian,” observed Isa. - -“And the first is to begin at seven this evening,” said Edith. “Papa has -given me leave to be always present—at least when the weather is fine; -and some of our servants will go too. They are not all able to get to -church on Sundays, for Axe is five miles from the Castle.” - -The cousins, slowly sauntering up the avenue, had now reached a grassy -mound at the end of it, on which a tall weather-cock stood, and which -might be ascended by a flight of marble steps. Having mounted these -steps, a very extensive and beautiful prospect lay before Isa and Edith, -while a rural seat invited them to rest and enjoy it. - -“I have looked upon many lovely views in Italy,” observed Edith, as her -eye wandered with delight over the scene; “but, to my mind, there is none -to compare with this. I always missed that dear little spire seen in the -distance yonder, where I knew that Sunday after Sunday the real truth was -preached in my own native tongue by a servant of God. It always seems to -me with Mr. Eardley as if he were like the disciples, who went to their -Master and had their directions in the morning straight from His lips; -and that in the evening, when his labour was over, he would go and ‘tell -Jesus’ all that he had done, and all that he had tried to do—receive the -Lord’s smile and His blessing, and then lie down to rest at His feet.” - -“It seems so with some clergymen,” said Isa. “When they feed the people -with the bread of the Word, we feel that they have just taken it from -the hands of the Lord—that He has given thanks, and blessed, and broken -it; so that we look from the servant to the Master, and realize that the -ministry of the gospel is hallowed service indeed.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER II. - -BROKEN BUBBLES. - - -“So you especially enjoyed your stay at Florence,” said Isa, after the -conversation had taken a less serious turn. - -“I was very happy there; it was so beautiful, and we knew such very nice -people. I should have liked to have stayed there much longer.” - -“And why did you not remain there?” asked Isa. “Did not Sir Digby enjoy -Florence too?” - -“Very much indeed, until—until a lady came to stay there who spoilt all -his pleasure in the place.” - -“How was that?” said Isa. - -“Why, the lady was witty; at least people said so; but if her kind of -talking was wit, I wish that there were no such thing in the world. All -her delight seemed to be to gossip and make her friends merry; and so -long as they laughed, she did not much mind what they laughed at. You -see,” continued Edith in a confidential tone, “her mother had lived in -the Castle, and she talked a great deal about that. Now, of course, it -was quite right and noble in papa to let strangers come here while we -were away—and there had been difficulties, as you know—but he did not -like its being talked about to every one.” - -Isa could easily comprehend that her proud uncle had been very sensitive -on the subject of the letting of his ancestral mansion. - -“And then,” pursued Edith, “she mixed up what was true with what was -not true; and how could strangers tell whether she spoke in jest or in -earnest? She said that papa had been harsh and violent to his servants; -and that was shamefully false!” exclaimed the girl, with a flush of -indignation on the face usually so gentle and calm—“he had been only too -indulgent and trustful. In short, this lady made Florence so unpleasant -by her gossip, that papa could bear it no longer. He said that he would -never willingly be for a day in the same city with Cora Madden.” - -“Cora Madden!” repeated Isa, with a little start; and Edith, who had been -looking up at her cousin, saw with surprise a stern, gloomy expression -pass over her countenance like a shadow. - -“Do you know Miss Madden?” inquired the baronet’s daughter. - -“Do I know her?” repeated Isa slowly, with her hazel eyes bent on -the ground. Then suddenly she raised them, as she uttered the abrupt -question, “Edith, do you know what it is to hate?” - -“Hate? no, not exactly,” replied the gentle girl; “but there are some -persons whom I do not like at all—some with whom I feel angry at times. I -was angry with Miss Madden one day when she was laughing at Mr. Eardley, -and mimicking his manner. I thought her doing so was so silly, so wrong. -Besides, rudeness to one’s friends tries one’s patience a great deal more -than unkindness to one’s self.” - -“Cora reminds me of the description of the wicked in the Psalms,” -observed Isa—“‘_They shoot out their arrows, even bitter words._’ She -cares little where the darts alight, or how deep they may pierce.” - -Edith, who had a very tender conscience, was very doubtful whether such -an application of a text from Scripture was consistent with Christian -charity. Without venturing, however, to reprove, she merely observed in -her gentle tone, “I am sorry that I spoke of Cora at all. It was breaking -a rule which I had made.” - -“What is your rule?” asked Isa. - -“Never to speak of those whom I cannot like, except to God,” replied -Edith. - -“And what do you say of them to God?” - -“Oh, if I speak of them to God, I must speak _for_ them,” answered little -Edith; “I dare not do anything else, for the Lord has told us to love -our enemies, and we could not bring malice into our prayers.” - -“Yours is a good rule, darling,” said Isa, and she turned to imprint a -kiss on the forehead of her cousin. “Let us speak no more of Cora Madden, -and may God help us to obey the most difficult command contained in all -the Bible!” - -To explain why the command appeared such a hard one to the young -maiden—why the very name of Cora called up bitter remembrances to her -mind—it is needful that I should let the reader know something of the -previous history of Isa Gritton. - -Like her cousin Edith, Isa had early lost her mother, and had been the -only daughter in her father’s home; but otherwise there had been little -resemblance between the early childhood of the two. Edith, a crippled, -suffering invalid, had been the unmurmuring victim of nursery oppression; -and in her splendid mansion had had more to endure than many of the -children of the poor. Isa, on the contrary, fondly tended by a devoted -nurse, herself strong, vigorous, and full of spirits, had found her -childhood flow pleasantly past, like a stream dimpling in sunshine and -bordered with flowers. Isa had scarcely known what it was to feel weary, -sick, or sad. Her father called her his little lark, made only to sing -and to soar. She was beloved by all who knew the bright, playful child, -and her affectionate nature disposed her to love all in return. The -religion which was carefully instilled into Isa partook of the joyful -character of her mind. Isa was troubled by no doubts and few fears. The -thoughts of heaven and bliss which were suggested to her, were congenial -to the spirit of the child. Isa looked forward to the joys of Paradise -without letting imagination dwell either on the dark valley or “the -narrow stream.” Her idea of death was simply a peaceful removal to a yet -brighter and happier home. - -There were some spiritual dangers attending this existence of ease and -joy. The very sweetness of Isa’s disposition dimmed her perception of -inward corruption. If she was tempted to make an idol of self, it was an -idol so fair that she scarcely recognized it as one. Sometimes, indeed, -Isa’s conscience would accuse her of vanity as she lingered before her -mirror, surveying with girlish pleasure the smiling image within it, or -recalled words of fond admiration, or committed some little extravagance -in regard to dress, for Isa at that time had a weakness for dress. But -the accusation was made in a whisper so soft, that it scarcely disturbed -her serenity. It affected her conduct, however; for on the day when Isa -first received a regular allowance of her own, she made on her knees a -resolution which never was broken—not to spend money on the adornment -of her person without devoting an equal sum to the relief of the poor. -Thus early the love of God combated the love of the world; a bridle was -placed upon vanity, which was still but a bridle of flowers; for Isa felt -as much pleasure in helping the poor as in wearing a new robe, or in -clasping the jewelled bracelet round her soft white arm. - -Isa’s brightness of spirit did not pass away with childhood; it rather -increased, as the bud expands into the perfect flower. But in life’s -school Providence has appointed various teachers, and few of God’s -children pass many years upon earth without coming under the discipline -of disappointment, bereavement, and care. Isa was to know all three. The -first came to her when the blooming girl felt herself at the very summit -of earthly bliss, when a halo of happiness was thrown around every object -near her. Isa believed herself to be the most blest of women in being -beloved by Lionel Madden. Young and inexperienced as she was, Isa’s fancy -invested her hero with every noble and sterling quality; she believed -all that she desired, and the bright bubbles blown by hope glittered -with all the prismatic tints of the rainbow. The bubble suddenly broke! -Lionel became cold, alienated, shortly after the arrival of his sister, -who seemed to have taken an instinctive dislike to Isa. What had been -said against her Isa never exactly knew; but whatever poisoned shaft -had destroyed her hopes, she knew that it came from the quiver of Cora. -What marvel if bitter, resentful feelings arose towards the author of -her deep, though hidden, anguish? As Isa’s gaiety was suddenly changed -into gloom, so her kindly loving nature for awhile seemed altered into -one sternly vindictive. Like Satan intruding in a paradise of peace, and -blighting its flowers by his presence, hatred, and even a lurking desire -for vengeance, suddenly arose in a soul which had previously appeared to -be formed only for happiness and love. - -[Illustration: CHANGED AFFECTION.] - -But had Cora really injured Isa? Nay; the malicious enemy had done -more to shield the young maiden from misfortune than her most tender -friend could have done. Cruel may be the hand which tears to pieces the -half-formed nest which a bird is building on a hedge by the wayside, but -it is well for the bird if it be thus constrained to choose a higher -and safer bough. Lionel was unworthy of the affection of a faithful, -confiding young heart. It was well for Isa that her bubble was broken, -that her cherished hopes were scattered to the winds. She did not think -so, she could not feel so; even Lionel’s very worldly marriage, which -took place a few months afterwards, did not fully open her eyes to this -truth. Isa deemed all that was unworthy in the conduct of young Madden -the result of the influence of his sister; and regarded Cora not only as -her own evil genius, but that of the man whom she had loved. Startled and -alarmed by the fierce passions which, for the first time, struggled for -the possession of her heart, Isa looked upon Cora as the cause not only -of misery, but of sin also. Isa’s self-knowledge was deepened by trial, -but it was a self-knowledge that mortified and pained her. She found -that she was far from what she had hoped to become, from what the world -believed her to be; she was no calm angel soaring above earth and its -trials, but a weak tempted woman, who found it hard not to murmur, and -almost impossible truly to forgive. - -And yet Cora had been but an instrument in a higher Hand, and to Isa -an instrument for good. We may praise God in another world even more -for the malice of our bitter enemies, than for the tender love of our -friends. Jacob’s paternal affection would have shielded his best-beloved -son from every touch of misfortune; but it was the hatred of Joseph’s -brethren, the malice of his false accuser, that led him—through the pit -and the prison—to exaltation and to honour. Satan himself became, through -God’s over-ruling goodness, an instrument of blessing to Job; his cruel -assaults led to deeper experience in the man whom he sought to destroy, -more close communion with God, and doubtless more exalted blessedness -hereafter. No enemy, human or infernal, has power to do us aught but -_good_, except by leading us into sin. Could we realize this, our wounded -hearts might find it less difficult to forgive the wrongs which are -“blessings in disguise.” - -Not a year after the stroke of disappointment had fallen upon Isa, she -had to endure that of sudden bereavement. A few—very few—days of anxious -watching by a parent’s sick-bed, and Isa found herself fatherless as -well as motherless in the world. Very heavy lay the burden of loneliness -upon the young orphan’s heart. It is true that Isa had a half-brother -yet living, but Gaspar was many years older than herself, and Isa had -seen very little of him, as the greater part of his life had been passed -in Jamaica. Still the affections of Isa clung fondly around the nearest -relative left for her to love, especially as she knew her brother to be -in broken health; and she resolved that to watch over him and minister to -his comfort should be the object thenceforth of an existence from which -all the brightness appeared to have departed. - -Even with thoughts of Gaspar, however, were linked associations of -mystery and pain. Isa had never imparted to any one a care which to her -young spirit was more oppressive than sorrow itself. She had never told -how, when the shadow of approaching dissolution lay on her father, when -the delirium of fever had passed away, he had fixed his glazing eyes -upon his daughter, at that midnight hour the sole watcher beside him. -The dying man had seemed anxious to disburden himself of something that -weighed on his mind; he struggled to speak, but his parched lips could -scarcely frame articulate words. Isa strained her ear to catch the almost -inaudible accents, bending down so low that she could feel the dying -man’s breath on her cheek. A few scattered sentences were gathered, -deeply imprinted on her memory by the solemnity of the time when they -were uttered. - -“Gaspar—you will be with him—something wrong—the _Orissa_—not her money -lost—he should deal fairly by that orphan—tell him from me—” But whatever -was the message intended, death silenced the lips that would have sent -it, and Isa was left to ponder painfully over what could be “wrong,” and -how Gaspar could have not “dealt fairly” by an orphan, at least in the -opinion of his father. - -The remembrance of these dying words, the dread of some painful -explanation with Gaspar, alone threw a damp upon the earnest desire with -which Isa looked forward to her only brother’s return to England. Her -affectionate spirit yearned for the sympathy of one bound to her by the -tie of blood, and she longed once more to possess a settled home. About a -year after Mr. Gritton’s death, Gaspar arrived from Jamaica. Isa was at -the time residing with a friend in London, and her brother took a lodging -near her. Being a good deal occupied with business during the day, and -too much an invalid to venture out in the evening, Gaspar did not see -much of his sister,—far less than Isa desired. Her brother’s manner -towards her was gentle and courteous, his kindness won her gratitude, his -broken health her sympathy. Isa wished to devote herself to the care of -her brother, but he preferred delaying the time when they should reside -together in a settled home, until he should have built a house into which -he could receive his young sister. During this period spent in London, -Isa either found no opportunity of speaking to Gaspar on the subject of -their father’s mysterious message, or she put off making the effort -till a more quiet season, when her brother might have recovered his -health. She could not bear to risk exciting him when he was so delicate, -or offending him when he was so kind. Isa gladly availed herself of any -excuse to delay the performance of a duty from which she intuitively -shrank. - -Isa felt grateful to her half-brother for selecting as the place of -their future residence a spot near Castle Lestrange. She had paid many -a delightful visit to her uncle’s lordly mansion, both before and after -the death of his wife, and she deemed it a proof of Gaspar’s considerate -affection for herself, that he should purchase a site for his house but a -mile from the dwelling of those who were her relatives, but not his own. -Isa could have wished, indeed, that it had not been on the Wildwaste side -of the Castle, as memory recalled a flat expanse of common surrounding a -miserable hamlet, and an unsightly manufactory; but she had not visited -her uncle’s home for nearly six years, and many changes might have taken -place during that period. Isa also encouraged herself with the thought -that a little paradise might stand even in the midst of a barren heath, -like an oasis in a desert; and that as Gaspar had chosen to build a house -instead of buying one, it was evident that his was a taste which could -not be satisfied by any ordinary attractions in a dwelling. - -During the time when Gaspar was building, Isa never once saw her -brother. He took a lodging above the single shop in Wildwaste, that he -might superintend operations. He kept a sharp eye over the workmen who -were brought from London, not suffering them, it was said, to mix with -the cottagers around, or spend their evenings at the small county inn. -There was no doubt that Gaspar Gritton was eccentric, and Isa was aware -of the fact; but she was disposed to look at her only brother in the most -favourable light, and persuaded herself that she rather liked a dash of -eccentricity in a character; it redeemed it from being commonplace. - -Isa was very impatient for the completion of her new home, and would, if -permitted, have entered it before it was sufficiently dry to be a safe -residence for her. Buoyant hope had again sprung up within her young -heart, long cast down, but not crushed by affliction. Life might yet -have joys in store for the bright girl. Isa would be, as she thought, -everything to her brother; his nurse, companion, and friend. She would -make his home a fairy dwelling, where everything on which the eye might -rest should be graceful and pretty. Isa knew that her brother had -sufficient means to procure every comfort; and though her own patrimony -was but slender, she hoped, dispensing Gaspar’s alms, to become a -benefactress to all the poor around them. Again the fairy bubble was -glittering before Isa, and if its colours were now less splendid, and it -rose to less lofty a height still the emblem of earthly hope was not -without its beauty and brightness. - -It was on a day in March that Isa joined her brother. She had enjoyed -her journey by train; the sunshine had been brilliant, her companions -agreeable, and her mind was full of pleasant expectation. Isa’s pleasure -was damped by the little disappointment of not finding Gaspar ready to -welcome her at the station. It was with a sensation of loneliness that -she took her seat in a hired open conveyance to be driven to Wildwaste -Lodge. The sunshine was now overclouded, a fierce north-east wind was -blowing, from the chilling effects of which the young lady from London -tried to protect herself in vain. The horse was lame, the drive seemed -long. - -“Are we far from Wildwaste Lodge?” asked Isa at last of the driver, -as they skirted a dreary common of which she fancied that she could -recognize some of the features. - -“That be’s the house,” replied the man, pointing with his whip towards a -narrow three-storied dwelling, looking staringly new, without sheltering -shrubbery or even hedge, with no blinds to the windows, no porch to the -door, nothing that could redeem its aspect from absolute vulgarity. Could -this be the rural retreat to which Isa had given the name of home! - -[Illustration: ISA’S ARRIVAL AT WILDWASTE.] - -Disheartened and chilled felt Isa as her conveyance passed through the -wretched hamlet, where groups of untidy women and barefooted children -stood staring at the unwonted apparition of anything in the shape of a -carriage. She scarcely liked to look again at the house, as the lame -horse stopped at the dark green door. Gaspar did not come forth to -welcome her; he dared not face the cutting wind which had chilled his -sister to the heart. Cold and numbed after her journey, Isa—when a deaf -elderly woman had answered the knock—descended from the conveyance; -herself saw her boxes carried into the narrow hall by the driver, paid -the man and dismissed him, and then hastened into the parlour, where -she found her brother. His reception, though not uncourteous, was by -no means calculated to dispel the chill which had fallen on the spirits -of Isa. Gaspar was so full of his own complaints that he had scarcely -leisure to observe that his sister was tired and cold. After conversing -with him for a while, Isa arose to explore the other apartments of the -house. She suppressed a little sigh of disappointment as she ascended the -uncarpeted stair. - -The interior of Wildwaste Lodge was, if possible, more unattractive than -its outward appearance. Gaspar had reserved the ground-floor for himself, -and no one had a right to complain if in his own peculiar domain he -preferred simplicity to ornament, and neglected the little elegancies -which Isa deemed almost essential to comfort. But Isa was deeply -mortified when she entered her own apartments, which were immediately -over those of her brother, and found them furnished with a regard to -economy which amounted to actual penuriousness. A few chairs, not one of -which matched another, and which seemed to have been chosen at haphazard -out of some broker’s shop; a table of painted wood, one of the legs of -which did not touch the uncarpeted floor; and a shelf to serve as a -bookcase: these formed the entire furniture of the young lady’s boudoir. -There was not so much as a curtain to the window. Isa, weary and chilled -after her journey, felt inclined to sit down and cry from mortification -and disappointment. Little joy could she anticipate from a life to be -passed with one who from the first showed such disregard for her pleasure -and comfort. - -Isa’s misgivings were painfully realized. There are some persons who are -pleasing in society, agreeable when only met on casual occasions, with -whom it is very annoying to be brought into closer contact. It is trying -to the temper to transact business with them, still more trying to dwell -under the same roof. The character of such persons seems to be made up -of angles, that on every side chafe and annoy. A graphic writer[1] has -humorously described them as unpruned trees. “Little odd habits, the -rudiments of worse habits, need every now and then to be cut off and -corrected. We should all grow very singular, ridiculous, and unamiable -creatures, but for the pruning we have got from hands kind and unkind, -from our earliest days.... Perhaps you have known a man who has lived for -forty years alone; and you know what odd shoots he had sent out; what -strange traits and habits he had acquired; what singular little ways he -had got into. There had been no one at home to prune him, and the little -shoots of eccentricity, of vanity, of vain self-estimation, that might -have easily been cut off when they were green and soft, have now grown -into rigidity.” - -Mr. Gritton, from living much alone, had become a man of this kind. The -most unsightly branch on the unpruned tree was that of penuriousness. -Isa had had little opportunity of knowing her brother’s infirmity until, -when she became a resident in his house, it affected her daily, her -hourly, comfort. Herself generous and open-handed, fond of having the -conveniences and elegancies of life around her, yet esteeming as the -greatest of luxuries the power of giving freely to others, Isa could -not understand, far less sympathize with, the love of money for money’s -sake, which was the leading characteristic of Gaspar. It seemed to her -so grovelling, so mean, that Isa had to struggle against emotions not -only of irritation but of contempt. She was also deeply wounded to find -that Gaspar’s affection for his only sister was so subordinate to his -avarice. The young lady, accustomed to luxury and refinement, had the -utmost difficulty in persuading her brother even to allow her to find -an assistant to the ill-tempered elderly woman whom he had engaged -as a general servant. Though Isa succeeded in gaining her point, Mr. -Gritton would only give such wages as would be accepted by none but an -inexperienced girl like Lottie Stone. The efforts which it cost Isa to -carry out even this small domestic arrangement made her aware of another -unpleasant fact—that Gaspar had a peevish, irritable temper, more trying -to one residing constantly with him than a passionate one would have -been. The dying charge of her father lay now like an oppressive weight -upon the heart of poor Isa: her new insight into the character of Gaspar -gave to their parent’s words a more forcible meaning, and she dreaded -more and more the idea of being compelled by a sense of duty to open the -subject to her brother. - -The first weeks of Isa’s residence at her dreary home would have been -weeks of positive misery, but for the cheering prospect of the speedy -return of her uncle and cousin, and the comfort which she derived from -the visits of the pastor of Axe, whose fatherly interest in her young -servant had first led his steps to her dwelling. Smiling April came at -last; and with it—more welcome to Isa than the nightingale’s song—Edith -Lestrange returned to the Castle. It was now arranged that Isa should -pass with her cousin a portion of each of those days on which an evening -lecture should be held at the steward’s cottage, and return to Wildwaste -in the baronet’s carriage at night. It was something to Isa to be thus -sure of at least two pleasant days in the week; though the contrast -between the refined elegance of Edith’s home and the dreary discomfort of -her own, increased the sense of bitterness in the soul of Isa. - -But that sense of bitterness seemed for a time to pass away, and -domestic trials to be forgotten, when the cousins entered together -the flower-covered porch of the dwelling of Holdich, to unite with -their poorer brethren in the simple cottage service. Edith’s heart was -overflowing with thankful delight at being permitted again to worship in -that place where some of her earliest impressions of religion had been -received. Isa felt that here at least the carking cares of life might be -shut out: she might lift up her soul, as in happier days, unto her Father -in heaven. - -The subject chosen by Mr. Eardley was the history of the triumph of -Gideon, the hero and saint, over the hosts of Midian. It was his object -in this, as in former courses of lectures,[2] to draw simple practical -lessons from the narratives contained in the Word of God; and as such -lessons are required by us all, I shall weave the brief addresses of the -clergyman, though in separate chapters, into the web of my story. - - [1] _Vide_ “Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson.” - - [2] _Vide_ “The Shepherd of Bethlehem,” “Exiles in Babylon,” - and “Rescued from Egypt.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER III. - -LECTURE I.—MIDIANITES IN POSSESSION. - - -For forty years after Deborah had celebrated the triumph over Sisera -in her glorious song, the land of Israel had had rest. This period of -tranquillity receives such brief mention in the Scriptures, that we are -in danger of forgetting for how long a time God granted the blessing of -peace. And thus is it in our own lives, my brethren: times of trouble -stand out, as it were, like rugged crags, shutting out from memory’s view -the vines and the fig-trees, the olive-yards, the green pastures and -still waters, with which our gracious God for long may have blessed us. - -Seven years of trouble to Israel succeeded the forty years of repose: -not _causeless_ trouble—such is never known in the experience either of -Israelite or of Christian. But we do not always search out the actual -cause of affliction. With God’s ancient people the punishment was clearly -traced to the sin. When the Midianites, like a swarm of locusts, came up -against them, destroying and wasting, driving the inhabitants of the land -to hide in dens of the mountains, strongholds, and caves, it was because -the stain of idolatry lay upon Israel; and mercy, to save the sinners, -required that justice should chastise the sin. - -The Midianites, who were thus made an instrument of punishment to Israel, -were, like themselves, descendants of Abraham, but by his union with -Keturah. When Moses guided God’s people towards Canaan, the Midianites -drew down vengeance on themselves by their too successful efforts to -lead Israel into sin. Then perished the wicked prophet Balaam amongst -the enemies of God’s people. But Midian, though punished, had not been -destroyed; and now, after the lapse of nearly two hundred years, we find -it a very powerful nation, against whose numerous hordes the Israelites -seem to have made no attempt to defend their homes—so completely was the -warlike spirit crushed in the descendants of those who had triumphed -under Moses and Joshua when they fought the battles of the Lord. - -When the Israelites were in trouble, then they cried aloud to the God -of their fathers, and He heard and answered their prayer: not yet by -sending a deliverer—the sense of sin must be deepened before the judgment -be removed. A prophet was sent to the people, with a message, not of -promise, but of reproof: - -“Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, I brought you up from Egypt, and -brought you forth from the land of bondage, and I delivered you out of -the hand of the Egyptians, and out of the hand of all that oppressed you, -and drave them out from before you, and gave you their land. And I said -unto you, I am the Lord your God; fear not the gods of the Amorites in -whose land ye dwell: but ye have not obeyed My voice.” - -The great and glorious deliverance of Israel from Egypt we may regard -as a type of the redemption of Christ’s Church from the dominion of -Satan—the triumph achieved once and for ever by the mysterious sufferings -of our Saviour, His sacrifice offered upon the Cross. This is the -_central truth_ of the Christian religion. But though Egyptian darkness -be left behind—though Christians be received into the enjoyment of -privileges purchased by the death of their Lord—their backslidings, like -those of Israel, often draw upon them heavy troubles, resembling the -devouring hordes of Midian. - -I am not, my brethren, speaking of the afflictions and bereavements -which are the common lot of all. During the forty years of blessed -peace, sickness and sorrow must have been known in homes of Israel, and -faithful servants of God have wept over new-made graves. Such trials are -crosses appointed by a heavenly Father—crosses which each and all must -take up at some period of life, if life be not early cut short. But I am -speaking of troubles directly or indirectly brought on us by our sins: -the Midianites who destroy our peace, and bring upon us miseries from -which more earnest faith, more perfect obedience, might have preserved -us. We are accustomed to speak of this life as “a vale of tears;” but let -us search and examine whether the valley owe not the greater part of its -desolation and gloom to foes to our peace whom _we might have kept out_, -and over whom faith may yet give us a victory glorious as that of Gideon. - -To explain my meaning more clearly, let me draw your attention to a few -of what we may call chiefs—leaders of hordes of troubles, Midianites -in the heart, that trample down our happiness and destroy our comfort -in life. I shall mention four names but too familiar—Disappointment, -Discontent, Dissension, Distrust. Let us see whether the sufferings which -they inflict are not more severe and perpetual than those brought upon us -by what are called visitations of Providence; whether many griefs which -we term “crosses” are not rather burdens laid upon us by enemies to the -soul, to whose yoke we should never have stooped. - -The first Midianite chief whom I shall bring before you is -Disappointment—the intruder who cuts down the green crop of hope, and -leaves a famine in the soul. Whence is it that even the Christian -is constantly subject to disappointment? Is it not from habitual -disobedience to the divine command, _Set your affections upon things -above, not on things beneath_? We eagerly fix our heart on some worldly -object—ambition, pleasure, or gain: like children, we build our houses of -delight on the sand within reach of the tide, which must sooner or later -sweep them away, and then sit down and weep when the flood rolls over the -spot which we had unwisely chosen. Let each of us who in the bitterness -of disappointment has mournfully repeated the words of the Preacher, -_Vanity of vanities, all is vanity_, see whether the idol in the heart -has not been the cause of the Midianites’ invasion; and whether that -faith which builds on the Rock of Ages, beyond the reach of desolation -or decay, may not yet overcome the power of disappointment to harass the -soul. Hopes fixed upon Christ know not disappointment; treasures laid -up in heaven can never be lost; ties formed by faith endure throughout -eternity; the less our joys are of the earth, earthy, the less danger -there is that the spoiler can ever wrest them away from our grasp. - -And whence cometh Discontent, who robs his slave of all his peace?—for -peace and discontent cannot abide in the same soul. Can he who says to -his most bountiful God, not only with his lips but from his heart, “I am -unworthy of the least of Thy mercies,” ever know discontent? Must not -the peevish, envious, rebellious spirit be ever kept far from his gates? -We should deem so; and yet, Christian brethren, do we practically find -that it is so? Are we not too often inclined to compare our lot with that -of others, and, if not openly, yet secretly, repine, as if Providence -had done us a wrong? No true servant of Christ can desire to have his -portion here; and yet does not the inheritor of heaven too frequently -murmur because not all the good things of earth are showered upon him -in addition? How different his spirit from that of the apostle! He who -had _suffered the loss of all things_, yet could affirm, _I have learned -in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content_. Had we also learned -this lesson, we should find it less impracticable to obey his command, -_Rejoice in the Lord alway; and again I say unto you, rejoice_. - -“You have not your due,” were the words which I once heard a wife address -to a husband who had been deprived of some advantage which she considered -to have been his right. “Nay, God be praised that I have not my _due_,” -he replied. “What is my _due_ as a sinner before God? what is my due from -a world which I have renounced for His sake? Had I chosen my portion in -this life, then only might I complain of not receiving my due!” Here was -a man whom discontent could not rob of his heritage of peace. - -To pass on to Dissension, the third enemy to our happiness, who invades -many a home, and makes goodly dwellings miserable abodes,—to what shall -we trace his invasion? Is it not written in Scripture, _By pride cometh -contention_?—would not the _soft answer_ that _turneth away wrath_ -often prove as a strong bar to keep him from entering our habitations? -But here I must guard myself from being misunderstood. It is possible -that dissension may come where the fault lies on one side alone. The -Christian may be—not unfrequently is—called to brave opposition, and draw -upon himself the anger of men by defending the truth, or taking up the -cause of the oppressed. The command, _Live peaceably with all men_, is -qualified by _if it be possible_; for in some cases it is _not_ possible -to preserve harmony without giving up principle. Under such circumstances -the sacrifice of peace is a sacrifice for God, and the cross is one which -is borne for His sake. But in the majority of cases dissension follows -on the footsteps of pride, and is the leader of malice, hatred, and all -uncharitableness. Then, indeed, is he the true Midianite who pours gall -into the very springs of enjoyment, who casts his venomed arrows on every -side, and maketh a wilderness of that which might have been as the Garden -of Eden. _Better a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and -hatred therewith._ Could we, through the grace of God’s Spirit, purge -from our souls all malice, all bitterness and wrath—could we love one -another as Christ hath loved us, what heart-burnings, what heart-achings -might be spared, and how often would the brightness of heaven appear to -be reflected even upon earth! - -Disappointment, Discontent, and Dissension have, as we have seen, much -to do with the train of sorrows which have given to God’s fair world the -name of “a vale of tears.” But I believe that the most dangerous enemy -of all to our peace, the one who has most often pressed his iron yoke -on the hearts of my hearers, is the fourth whose name I have mentioned, -Distrust of the love and wisdom of God. This assertion may cause surprise -in those who are unconscious of a doubt; but examine yourselves closely, -my brethren, observe what has most often clouded your brows, saddened -your spirits, drawn the deep sigh from your hearts. Has it been regrets -for the past? Has it been the trials of the present? Has it not rather -been care for the future, fears of what the morrow might bring? Would -not perfect obedience to the injunction of our blessed Redeemer, _Take -no thought for the morrow_, sweep away at once more than half of the -troubles that weigh on our souls? - -And why take thought for the morrow? We too often appear to forget -that the future lies in the hand of One “too wise to err, too good to -be unkind.” We act as if we could not, or would not, believe that _all -things work together for good to them that love God_: we are needlessly -restless, anxious, unhappy, and exclaim in our trouble, “How heavy a -rod the Lord lays upon me!” Nay, poor weak unbelieving heart, thou -art smitten less by the rod of thy Father, than by the scourge of the -Midianite within. If faith could drive out mistrust, if thou couldst in -deed and in truth cast thy cares upon Him who careth for thee, then—even -here—might God give thee _beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, -the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness_. Perfect trust would -bring perfect submission, and the peace that passeth understanding. - -Gideon, the future deliverer of Israel, first appears before us in -Scripture engaged in threshing corn beside the wine-press in order to -hide it from the rapacious Midianites who held possession of the land. -From the necessity of concealment he cannot employ, after the custom of -the East, his father’s oxen to trample out the wheat; he must himself -wield the flail with the strength of his own right arm. Gideon is -employed in a task of lowly toil, unconscious at first of the presence -of the heavenly Being who has descended to earth, and who is now beside -him under the shadow of the oak at Ophrah. And here for the present we -will pause, and defer till our next meeting the consideration of God’s -merciful promise to Gideon, and the effect which it produced on his soul. -If we regard Faith under the emblem of a tree, we have hitherto viewed -it as such tree may appear in winter, when there is not a blossom on the -bough or a leaf on the spray. There is no outward evidence of life; and -though we hope that spring will draw up the sap, and clothe the bare -branches with beauty, we see no present sign of the change. Such may -have been the state of Gideon’s faith when he thought on the sufferings -of his miserable country. The flail of the Lord was upon it, but we know -from the result that it was not to crush—not to destroy the wheat, but to -separate the chaff from the grain, and so render the latter more fit for -reception into the garner of the Lord. - -[Illustration: GIDEON THRESHING CORN.] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE LITTLE MAID. - - -“Good-bye, Isa dearest, we shall often—very often meet,” were the parting -words of Edith that night. - -Wrapped up warmly for protection from the cold air, Isa descended the -steps beneath the lofty portico of the Castle, and entered the luxurious -carriage which her uncle had placed at her command. As she sank on the -soft cushions, a dreary, aching sensation came over her heart; she felt -as if she were leaving brightness, happiness, beauty behind her, and -going to an abode of trial—almost privation—which she could hardly regard -as a home. - -“It is wrong, very wrong in me to feel thus,” Isa murmured to herself. -“If visits to the Castle make me discontented, the fewer they are the -better; but it seems to me that my only happy time now will be the time -spent with Edith. I have nothing at the Castle to wear my spirits, or -chafe my temper, my cousin is so sweet, my uncle so kind,—when under -their roof I seem to be able to shut out disappointment and care. Ah! -that word disappointment, it reminds me of the cottage-lecture which I -heard this evening. Are the Midianites in possession of my heart? Are -my crosses—what I have deemed crosses—rather burdens laid upon me by -enemies, under whose yoke I should never have stooped?” - -As the carriage rolled on through the darkness, Isa pursued the train -of her reflections. Disappointment, Discontent, Dissension, Distrust, -the Midianites in the soul—was she now harbouring them in her own? Isa -could not bear to let her mind dwell long upon the first; even now, after -the lapse of years, when she had had too good cause to believe that -the idol which she had raised in her heart had been of clay, Isa dare -hardly own to herself that Lionel had been unworthy of her love, and -that his love had not been enduring, because it had contained no element -of immortality. Shrinking from close self-examination on a subject so -tender, Isa passed on to that of Discontent; painfully aware as she was -that that spirit was struggling within her breast, that she was tempted -to regard her present lot with emotions of bitterness amounting almost to -rebellion. - -“Saints have been content in poverty, serene in suffering, joyful in -tribulation,—they have made even dungeon-walls echo to their hymns of -praise,” thought Isa, “and here am I, with youth, health, competence, -kind friends, blessings unnumbered and undeserved,—here am I, cast down, -irritable, murmuring, and depressed, because I dwell in a house which -does not suit my taste, but which is a thousand times more comfortable -than those inhabited by most of my poor fellow-creatures. I am annoyed -at a little petulance from an invalid brother, while many, better -than myself, have to endure harshness amounting to cruelty, hatred, -persecution, and scorn. How have I merited that my trials should be so -much lighter than theirs? Have I any cause to murmur? have I any right -to complain? Is it well that I should compare my lot with that of the -few, instead of that of the many, and give place to ungrateful discontent -instead of thanking God that He has bestowed upon me so much more than -my due? Why should my thoughts dwell on Edith’s happiness instead of on -the misery that I see yet nearer to me in the squalid homes of Wildwaste? -I must go more amongst the poor; yes, in so doing I shall not only -obey God’s command, but find weapons against the intrusion of sinful -discontent. - -“Dissension! I can scarcely say that there is that in my home, though -there is, I fear, but little of true affection; and words of impatience -and looks of coldness make life’s road seem very rough!” The simile -was probably suggested to Isa’s mind by the jolting motion of the -carriage, for the smooth gravel drive through the baronet’s grounds was -now exchanged for the rough road across the common, which was seldom -traversed except by the carts, which had left deep ruts in the boggy -soil. “But what was the cause of that intensely bitter feeling which -arose to-day—which always arises in my mind at the bare mention of Cora -Madden? Why should the remembrance of her be sufficient to drive away -the holiest and happiest thoughts? Surely the Midianites are within, -hatred, malice—nay, I almost fear the spirit of revenge! I sometimes -feel such an intense—such an unholy longing for retribution to come upon -that woman, that she should taste some of the bitterness of the cup of -misery which she has caused me to drink! And are such longings consistent -with Christianity? do they not arise from the influence of the spirit of -evil? While such emotions are harboured in my heart, can there ever be -peace within? God help me, for my strength is as weakness against such a -Midianite as this! - -“And Distrust”—here Isa’s meditations were suddenly brought to a close by -her arrival at Wildwaste Lodge. The loud, authoritative knock which broke -in such an unusual manner the stillness which had pervaded that dull -tenement brought Lottie Stone running in haste to the door. She was a -shy, black-eyed little maiden, who looked up in timid awe at Sir Digby’s -tall footman in his splendid livery, but greeted her young mistress with -a smile of rustic simplicity. - -“Has your master gone to rest yet?” asked Isa. - -“Not yet; he’s a-waiting for you in the study.” - -Isa entered her brother’s almost unfurnished apartment. One dull candle -threw faint light on bare walls, and a table and chairs that would -have looked shabby in a farm-house. On one of the latter (there were -but three) was seated Gaspar Gritton. He was a man still in the prime -of life, but the sallow complexion and stoop consequent on protracted -ill health, made him look several years older than he in reality was. -Gaspar had been rather handsome in youth, and still his features, though -contracted, were good; but his eye was dull, and the whole expression of -his face unpleasing: it was marked by dissatisfaction and peevishness, -and more so than usual as Isa entered his study. - -“I wish that you would tell those fellows not to startle one by such -thundering raps,” said the invalid brother. - -“I am sorry that the knock disturbed you; its loudness was certainly -disproportioned to the occasion,” replied Isa, good-humouredly, as she -seated herself by her brother; “I will tell John to announce my return in -a more modest manner next time.” - -“I don’t know why you should come in a carriage at all. You might have -walked home with Lottie and Mrs. Bolder after the meeting was over; the -night is perfectly fine. I expected you before half-past eight, and -now it is almost eleven.” Gaspar took a pinch of snuff to soothe his -aggrieved feelings, this being the sole luxury in which he habitually -indulged; his doing so happened unfortunately to be particularly -disagreeable to Isa. - -“My uncle kindly wished me to stay the evening with himself and Edith, -and to pass every day on which lectures are given with them at the -Castle,” said Isa. - -“Gadding—always gadding; girls are never satisfied at home,” observed -Gaspar with a sneer. - -Isa felt irritated and inclined to make a retort, but she suppressed the -words on her tongue, and replied as cheerfully as she could,— - -“You cannot wonder at my liking to meet with some of my nearest -relations; and were I to see absolutely nothing beyond our Wildwaste -domain, I might grow as antiquated and whimsical as Robinson Crusoe -himself. But I fear that you have passed but a dull evening without Isa -to sing or read to you, Gaspar.” - -The ungracious brother made no reply; he only applied again to his little -brown box. - -“Sir Digby asked me if you would not join his circle,” continued Isa; -“but I told him that you did not yet venture to expose yourself to the -night air. Was I right? You will, of course, call upon him some morning; -you will find him a pleasant acquaintance.” - -“I am not hunting after acquaintances; I’ve neither health nor spirits -for society,” replied Gaspar, rising languidly from his chair; “and as -for these grandees of the Castle, I should not find them much in _my_ -line, however much they may be in yours.” - -The brother and sister, after a cold “Good-night,” retired to their -several apartments, Isa asking herself as she ascended the chilly -staircase whether it were his fault or her own that she was disappointed -in Gaspar. - -She found her little servant Lottie awaiting her in her room, ready to -perform the offices of lady’s-maid, in which the young rustic took great -pride and pleasure. Lottie Stone was a source of amusement as well as -of interest to Isa; in her simplicity and ignorance she was so utterly -unlike any of her class whom the lady had met with before. The girl, -painfully shy before strangers, had a naive frankness with her young -mistress, which was almost like the confidence of a child. Isa by no -means discouraged this confidence, which gave her much influence over the -young being placed under her care. The rustic knew little of manners, and -was once detected in the act of snuffing the candle with her fingers. Isa -in vain tried to teach her to understand the thermometer by which the -valetudinarian regulated the heat of his room, and seemed to have no idea -of the difference between hot weather and cold. Gaspar used angrily to -declare that Lottie was certain to leave the window open whenever a sharp -east wind was blowing. In defiance of etiquette, if anything playful -were said at table, Lottie Stone was certain to laugh; and she would -stand, dish in hand, to listen to a lively anecdote related by Isa to her -brother, quite oblivious of the fact that the viands were growing cold. -Gently and smilingly Isa corrected the mistakes of the inexperienced -Lottie, and tried to soften down the displeasure of Mr. Gritton, who was -far less disposed to show indulgence. Much might be excused, she would -observe, in a girl so perfectly honest and truthful: the grain of the -wood was so good, that it was worth taking the trouble to work it, and -the polish would be added in time. Isa encouraged Lottie to open her -heart to her without reserve: but for this kindly intercourse between -mistress and maid, the life of the young girl would have had little of -brightness, as Hannah, the only other servant, was both ill-tempered -and deaf. “Miss Isa” was all in all to Lottie, looked up to, beloved -and obeyed with affectionate devotion. Lottie’s happiest time was the -half-hour spent at night with her mistress; for while she brushed Isa’s -long silky tresses, the lady entered into conversation with her. When -Miss Gritton first trusted her beautiful hair into Lottie’s inexperienced -hands, she had something to suffer as well as to teach; but pains and -patience had their usual effect, and it was only when the little maid was -speaking of something of special interest that she tried the philosophy -of her kind young mistress. - -[Illustration: ISA AND LOTTIE STONE.] - -“So you were at the lecture to-night, Lottie. I hope that you were -attentive to all that the clergyman said.” - -“I did try to be so, Miss Isa; there were things as I couldn’t make out; -but Mrs. Bolder and me, we was talking it over all the way home, and was -looking for the Midianites in the heart.” - -“And did you find any?” asked Isa. - -“Mrs. Bolder, she was a-saying that it’s very hard to keep out distrust -when things go so contrary in life. She has a deal of trouble, has Mrs. -Bolder, now that her husband’s laid up and crippled with rheumatics, and -she’s all the work of the shop upon her; it’s a’most too much for her, -she says. She can’t help wondering why God should send such sickness -and pain to her husband, who was al’ays a good, steady-going man, and a -tea-totaller,”—Lottie uttered the word almost with reverence; “if he’d -been given to drink it would have been different, you know.” - -The saddened tone of Lottie as she uttered the last sentence reminded -Isa of what Mr. Eardley had told her of the early trials of this more -than orphan girl. A brutal father, addicted to intemperance, had made the -hovel in which Lottie had passed the first years of her life, a den of -poverty and woe. Then this father, unworthy of the name, had absconded, -deserting an unhappy wife and two children, the elder of whom, a boy, -from physical infirmities and dulness of mind, was yet more helpless -than the poor little girl. Mr. Eardley had been for years the earthly -protector of the family; he had procured employment for Deborah Stone, -had had her children taught in his school, had, as we know, found a place -for Lottie as soon as she was able to take one, and had often put such -work in the way of her brother as the poor lad was not incapacitated from -performing. - -“And did you find the Midianite Distrust in your own soul also?” asked -Isa. - -The mournful tone of Lottie changed to a cheerful one as she made reply, -“Oh! as mother says, who’s to trust God if we don’t, when He has -helped us through such a many troubles, and given us such kind friends? -Only—just—sometimes,” she added more slowly, “when I thinks of poor -father, then a feeling will come; but I s’pose it’s wrong—God is so -good!” and she sighed. - -Isa perceived that the shadow of the poor girl’s great trial lay on her -young heart still. - -“You can always pray for your father, Lottie.” - -“I do, Miss Isa, I do, morning and evening, and so does mother; and -surely God will hear!” cried the girl, brightening up at the thought. “He -knows where bees father, though we don’t; and maybe He will bring him -back to us at last.” - -There was something touching to Isa in the clinging affection of the -young creature towards a parent whom she could not honour, and whom she -had so little cause to love. - -“And did you find any Discontent lurking within?” inquired the lady, -returning to the point of conversation from which she had diverged. - -“Discontent!” repeated Lottie, opening her black eyes wide at the -question; “O Miss Isa, how could I—with meat every day, and a whole -sovereign every quarter? That would be ungrateful indeed! Ah! if you -knew how we lived here at Wildwaste when I was little, in the cottage -that’s been pulled down—close by the ‘Jolly Gardener’ it was, where the -school is a-standing now! We’ve been half the day—mother, brother, and -I—without breaking a bit of bread; and we might have been the other half -too,” added Lottie, naively, “had not Mrs. Holdich been so kind, and the -tall gentleman from the Castle, bless him! he brought us nice things from -his own table under his cloak.” - -“Do you speak of Mr. Madden?” asked Isa, with a little tremulousness in -her tone. - -“Yes; the best, the kindest gentleman as ever lived—barring Mr. Eardley,” -said Lottie, warmly. “He was al’ays teaching the children good, and -looking arter the poor.” - -“Lionel Madden,” murmured Isa, dreamily; it was the first time for years -that that name had passed her lips. - -“Oh no, not he!” exclaimed Lottie, in a tone more emphatic than her -hearer liked, for it conveyed more distinctly than words that Lionel was -one of the last persons likely to play the philanthropist in the manner -described. “It was not he, but his brother. Mr. Lionel! he never gave to -nobody, nor did nothing for nobody as ever I heard of; only,” added the -girl, with a little laugh, “he switched my brother over the head with his -riding-whip once, to make him stand out of his way.” - -Isa did not care to keep up the conversation; she took up an -elegantly-bound book which lay on her toilette-table, to convey a hint -of silence to her little maid-servant. The volume was a collection of -sacred poetry, and the lady’s eyes rested long and thoughtfully upon the -well-known verse on which their gaze first fell as she opened the book. -It appeared like a comment on what she had heard that evening on the -subject of Disappointment. - - “Good when He gives, supremely good, - _Nor less when He denies_; - E’en trials from His sovereign hand - Are _blessings in disguise_.” - -So, whether she acknowledged the fact or not, had it been in God’s -dealings with Isa Gritton. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER V. - -THE DEATH-BED MESSAGE. - - -Isa awoke on the following morning with a feeling of oppression on -her heart, a vague impression that something had been neglected which -ought to have been done, and she connected that something with the -lecture which she had heard on the preceding day. Several minutes -passed, however, before she could trace back the links of thought to the -actual cause of her uneasiness, as it lay out of the general course of -reflection suggested by the subject of the lecture. Then Isa recalled the -words which at the time that she heard them had painfully reminded her -of a death-bed scene, perhaps the saddest recollection left on a mind -which had had of late much experience of sorrow. “The Christian may be -called to draw upon himself the anger of men by defending the truth, or -upholding the cause of the oppressed.” - -“It is more than two years,” reflected Isa, “since I received a sacred -charge from the dying lips of my dear father; and that charge I have -never obeyed. For more than two years may an orphan have been suffering -wrong on account of my brother, and during all this time I have let -the sin rest on his soul. I first put off an explanation till I should -meet him; then, when we met, I shrank from doing my duty. I quieted -conscience with every kind of frivolous excuse; he was too delicate, too -sensitive, too busy, it would be better to delay speaking till we should -be alone together in some peaceful home. We have been alone together, we -have passed hours, days, weeks in each other’s society, with nothing to -hinder me from speaking, except my own cowardly dislike of saying what -might probably offend. Surely cowardice like this is another Midianite -in possession, and I shall never know real peace till I have wrestled it -down. Whenever the remembrance of that charge comes over my mind, it is -like a cloud darkening the sunshine, and throwing a chill around. God -help me to fulfil at length a neglected duty! I will speak to Gaspar -before this day has passed over.” - -To some strong natures there might have appeared little that was -formidable in the task before her, but to Isa it was peculiarly painful. -Brought up as an only daughter, tenderly nurtured from her cradle, she -had hardly known what it was to have to encounter even a grave look -or a hasty word,—Isa had never learned to _endure hardness_. Fond of -pleasing, both from natural kindliness of heart and love of approbation, -Isa never willingly gave offence; with her to inflict pain was to suffer -it. Isa delighted in deeds of kindness and works of beneficence; to -comfort the sorrowing, or rejoice with the happy was congenial to her -womanly spirit; but to restrain, rebuke, oppose—the sterner duties which -are sometimes assigned to the most gentle of the sex in the battle-field -of life—cost Isa an effort which can only be appreciated by those of a -disposition like her own. - -Isa’s heart throbbed uneasily with the feeling that the explanation -so long dreaded, so long put off, was at hand, as she sat in the -apartment which she called her boudoir, but which was always used as a -breakfast-room. The bronze urn was hissing on the table, on which was -spread a somewhat meagre repast. Awaiting her brother, who was late, Isa -placed herself by the window, and gazed forth on the prospect before -her. There was little to charm in that prospect, even on a bright spring -day. A tract of common spread in front, dotted with golden patches of -blossoming furze; but the picturesqueness of heath land was marred by -the low-lying hamlet which was the foreground of the landscape. The -cottages, or rather hovels of Wildwaste, wore an appearance of squalor -and decay, which was not softened by the charm which moss and lichen and -clustering ivy can throw around even ruins. They appeared rather falling -to pieces because originally ill-built, than because they were ancient. -The only tenement at Wildwaste which looked in perfect repair, and with -some pretension to beauty, was the neat little school-house, erected by -a Madden, but not, as Isa had soon learned from Lottie, either by Lionel -or by Cora. “How pleasant,” mused Isa, as she watched the little clusters -of cottage children entering the low-browed porch—“how pleasant to leave -behind such a memorial of a passing visit to a place as that young Arthur -has left!” and as she thought of her brother, with his ample means yet -penurious disposition, she felt painfully how far better it is to possess -the heart to give than the money. - -The soap manufactory, lying a little to the right of the prospect, a -huge unsightly square-windowed pile of brick and mortar, was a yet more -conspicuous object than the hamlet of Wildwaste. It stood not two hundred -yards from Isa’s home, so that when the wind blew from that quarter she -dared not open the windows to let in the breezes, so polluted were they -by smoke and evil scent. The only redeeming feature in the landscape seen -from the lodge was the park which skirted the road beyond the common, the -beautiful park above whose light leafy screen rose the gray turrets of -Castle Lestrange. There, indeed, beauty and peace might dwell; thence no -ruder sound would be heard than the cuckoo’s note or the nightingale’s -song. Isa’s eyes, overlooking nearer and less pleasing objects, -constantly wandered to those verdant woods, those lofty picturesque -towers. - -Gaspar entered the sitting-room with a complaint on his lips against -“treacherous weather” on that clear April morn, for he was never weary -of contrasting the climate of England with that of Jamaica, much to the -disadvantage of the former, though the heat of the latter seemed to have -dried up and withered his frame. He seated himself at the table, and -began cutting the stale loaf (bread at the lodge was always stale), but -interrupted himself with the observation, “How one misses the papers of a -morning! Isa, I wish you’d ask your uncle, the baronet, to send over the -_Times_ every day.” - -“I should hardly like to ask that favour,” replied Isa, leaving the -window, and joining her brother at the breakfast-table. - -“And why not?” inquired Gaspar peevishly; “are you afraid of robbing the -servant’s hall?” - -“No,” said Isa, as she occupied herself with the tea-caddy; “but my -uncle would naturally think that we might take in a paper for ourselves, -instead of putting him to the inconvenience of sending a mile every -morning.” - -“I’m not the idiot to throw away my money on what may be had for the -asking; you have so much foolish pride,” muttered Mr. Gritton. “I feel -myself out of the world where I can’t get a glimpse of the money-market -or the shipping report.” - -That word “shipping” served as a cue to Isa. While sitting by the window -she had been revolving in her mind how she should introduce the subject -of her father’s dying message to Gaspar. Isa was convinced that her -long silence had been sinful, and having “screwed up her courage to the -sticking point,” was on the watch for an opportunity of saying what she -had determined should be said. Too anxious to make some commencement to -be able to do so without the appearance of effort, Isa abruptly remarked, -in a tone that betrayed a little nervousness, “Is not your interest in -the shipping chiefly on account of the _Orissa_?” - -“The _Orissa_?” repeated Mr. Gritton in accents of surprise; “why, all -the world knows that she foundered nigh four years ago, passengers saved, -cargo lost, and the greater part uninsured.” - -“Had you anything to do with the vessel?” asked Isa, timidly feeling her -way. - -Gaspar looked a little embarrassed by the question. “Yes—no,” he replied, -almost with a stammer. “I might have had a stake in that vessel—I -thought of having—’twas lucky I had not; there had been such a run for -certain goods in the West Indian market, that the cargo was expected to -bring double its value. But—but you know nothing and care nothing about -matters of business,” he added, stretching out his hand for the cup of -tea which his sister had poured out. “Has the post brought any letters -this morning?” - -Isa did not suffer the current of conversation to be thus abruptly -turned. Merely shaking her head in reply to the question, she nerved -herself to go one step further. “Who was the orphan whose property was in -some way or other connected with the _Orissa_?” - -“Orphan! what do you mean? Who on earth talked to you about an orphan?” -Isa felt—for she dared not look up—that her brother’s eyes were keenly -scrutinising her face. - -“Better have the whole truth out at once,” thought poor Isa, who, in -her nervousness, was emptying the milk-jug into the tea-pot. “The fact -is, dear Gaspar,” she said, speaking with rapidity and a sensation of -breathlessness, “I have been anxious for a long time to talk to you about -some words uttered by our beloved father a very, very short time before -we lost him. When he was almost too ill to speak, he said”—Isa pressed -her forehead as if to collect her thoughts—“he said, ‘Gaspar—you will be -with him—the _Orissa_—not her money lost—tell him from me;’ the dear lips -had not power to finish the sentence.” - -“Did my father say anything more than these words?” asked Gaspar, who saw -from the quivering of Isa’s lashes and the trembling of her lip that she -at least attached some importance to the fragmentary message. - -Isa pressed her hands very tightly together; she could hardly articulate -the broken sentences—“He said, ‘_something wrong_—he should deal fairly -by that orphan’—I can remember no more.” - -[Illustration: THE CONVERSATION AT BREAKFAST.] - -Gaspar rose abruptly from his seat and walked to the window. Isa felt the -brief silence which followed almost unendurable, and yet was thankful -that she had been enabled to speak out the whole truth at last. After a -few seconds Gaspar returned to his seat, and with a rapid—Isa fancied a -slightly tremulous utterance—thus addressed his sister:— - -“Isa, your ears deceived you—your memory is at fault—or—or there was -a wandering of mind at the last. You shall know exactly how the case -lies. A young lady, known to my father and myself, had some thousands of -pounds which she wished to invest, four years ago, during my short visit -to England. My father was consulted on the business. There was a sudden -demand for a particular kind of goods in the West Indies; money invested -in them might double itself if no time were lost; the girl was eager -to increase her property—natural enough,—I was employed in making the -arrangement—ship went down—goods uninsured—she had staked her property, -and lost it. This was no fault of mine; you might blame the captain or -the crew, or the winds and the waves; I was never blamed by Cora Madden -herself.” - -“Cora Madden!” ejaculated Isa. - -“You know the whole truth now,” said Gaspar; “let us never come on the -subject again.” - -Isa felt bewildered by the sudden disclosure of the name of the orphan -in whom she had taken such painful interest; so much so, that she -could hardly tell at that time whether the explanation of Gaspar were -satisfactory or not to her mind. When the name of Cora was uttered, Isa’s -surprise had made her for a moment look full in the face of her brother, -and that face—which had been almost ghastly—had become suffused with a -colour which she had never before seen upon it, and the eyes of Gaspar -had instantly sunk beneath the gaze of her own. Isa hardly noticed this -in the excitement of the instant, but it afterwards often recurred to her -mind, with an ever-strengthening persuasion that her brother had _not_ -told her all. - -The subject of the death-bed message was dropped, but Isa felt during -the remainder of that morning that her brother’s nerves had been shaken, -and that his spirits were utterly out of tune; and she could not but -refer this to its natural cause—the conversation at breakfast. Nothing -pleased Mr. Gritton: the tea was bitter, cold, undrinkable; the room full -of draughts; Lottie a useless idiot, and Mr. Eardley little better for -having ever recommended her. Isa came in for her full share of peevish -reproach, almost more difficult to be borne than angry rebuke. It was -a great relief to the young lady when her companion at length quitted -her boudoir to go down to his accounts, though Isa well knew that these -accounts would afford a new cause of grievance, and that all her care to -manage household affairs with strict economy would not prevent pettish -remarks on the extravagance of the Saturday bills. - -“I shall not be able to endure this kind of life long,” murmured Isa to -herself, as she returned from ordering dinner, having had to encounter -the ill-temper of Hannah, who, while her master inveighed against -reckless extravagance, complained on the other hand that there were “some -ladies as think that their servants can live upon nothing.” “I was never -made to bear all this constant fret and worry,” sighed the discouraged -Isa; “this perpetual effort to please, without the possibility of -succeeding in doing so.” Isa was, like so many others, tempted to -think that the post in which Providence had placed her was not the one -that suited her; that she would _do_ better, _be_ better in another. -Disappointment, discontent, distrust, had not been driven forth from her -heart. Again Isa seated herself by the window which commanded a view of -the towers of Lestrange, feeling disinclined to settle to any occupation, -to take up her work, or to finish her book. - -A visit from Edith made a delightful break on the dreary solitude of Isa. - -“I have come with a message from papa, dear Isa,” cried the baronet’s -daughter, after an affectionate greeting had passed between the cousins; -“he has charged me to carry you back captive with me to the Castle, to -remain there as long as we can make our prisoner happy. Oh, don’t make -resistance—lay down your arms and surrender at once!” The pleading eyes -seconded well the playful petition of the lips. - -A prisoner! nay, to Isa the invitation came like an offer of freedom -to one in irksome bondage. Her countenance lighted up with pleasure. “I -should gladly surrender to so generous a foe,” she replied, “only—my -brother—” - -“He will let me carry you off, I am sure that he will,” cried Edith. - -“I will go and ask him,” said Isa, hastily rising and quitting the room. - -Edith, left thus alone, looked around the boudoir of her cousin with -mingled pity and surprise. “Poor Isa, is this her abode? so small, so -wretchedly furnished, so dreary and bare. And what a view from the -window!” added the heiress, as she sauntered up to the casement; “the -very look of those tumble-down cottages would make one miserable; and as -for that hideous manufactory, it would spoil the fairest landscape in -the world. No wonder that Isa was not able to echo my words when I said, -‘There is no place like home.’” - -Isa soon returned with her brother’s permission for her to accompany her -cousin, a permission which he could hardly have withheld. Edith knew not -how ungraciously it had been accorded, how bitterly Gaspar had remarked, -“I knew that you would never care to stay quietly here with an invalid -brother.” - -“Had he been like a brother to me,” was Isa’s mental comment when she -quitted the room, “no pleasure would have drawn me from his side.” -Nevertheless Mr. Gritton’s observation gave pain to his sister, and so -did the distressed look on the face of Lottie, when hastily summoned to -help her young mistress in her preparations for quitting the Lodge. - -“O Miss Isa, I hope you’ll not be long away; we’ll be just lost without -you;” and Isa saw that moisture rose in Lottie’s black eyes. - -Isa returned with Edith to the Castle, where she was graciously received -by her stately uncle. Two beautiful rooms, exquisitely furnished, one -opening into the other, had been assigned to her; none in the Castle -commanded a more beautiful prospect. Swiftly the hours rolled by amidst -varied occupations. Cheerful was the afternoon saunter in the park with -Edith, and the little dinner-party in the evening, when Isa met with -congenial society. Pleasant on the following morning was the drive to the -distant church, and very refreshing to the spirit the sacred service, -conducted with none of the lifeless formality which cast such a chill -over Isa’s devotion in the church which she had attended with Gaspar. -Delightful was the evening converse with Edith; converse on high and holy -themes. Then, on the Monday morning, Isa much enjoyed visiting with her -sweet young cousin some of the dwellings of Sir Digby’s poorer tenants, -bearing little delicacies to invalids from the baronet’s luxurious table. -All these employments were in themselves innocent and good, and to Isa -would have afforded unmixed gratification, but for a feeling which would -intrude itself on her mind, that she was where she liked to be rather -than where she ought to be—that even her holiest pleasures were rather -of her own taking than of God’s bestowing. Whenever Gaspar or Wildwaste -were mentioned, a slightly uncomfortable sensation was experienced by -Isa. Well she knew that her presence was more needed in the dreary Lodge -than in the stately Castle; more by the peevish invalid than by the happy -young girl; a brother, an only brother, had a stronger claim on her -care than a cousin. Isa suspected, though she cared not to search for -confirmation of the suspicion, that Self-indulgence was another Midianite -in possession of her soul. - -So passed the time till Tuesday brought the little meeting in the -cottage of Holdich, which the cousins attended. The first face which -Isa caught sight of on entering the crowded room was that of her maid, -Lottie Stone, beaming with an expression of honest pleasure at seeing her -mistress again. Isa and Edith were a little late in joining the meeting, -the former had therefore no opportunity of speaking to Lottie till the -lecture and prayers were over. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VI. - -LECTURE II.—FAITH IN THE PROMISE. - - -We left Gideon at his lowly task, threshing corn by the wine-press to -bide it from the Midianites. The Israelite lifted up his eyes, and, -behold, One stood before him, clothed in human form, and yet nor man nor -angel; for from the words which He afterwards uttered, such as no created -being dare have breathed, we recognize in Him the eternal Son of God. As -the Lord appeared to Abraham in the plains of Mamre, to Jacob by the ford -of Jabbok, to Moses on the height of Sinai, so appeared He now to Gideon -beneath the oak-tree of Ophrah. Unconscious of the divinity of his Guest, -Gideon still appears to have received with reverence the greeting of the -mysterious stranger, as though aware that He came as a messenger from the -Most High. - -“The Lord is with thee, thou mighty man of valour!” was the salutation -of the Holy One to the son of a despised and persecuted race. - -“Oh my Lord,” exclaimed Gideon, “if the Lord be with us, why then is all -this befallen us? and where be all the miracles which our fathers told -of, saying, Did not the Lord bring us up from Egypt? But now the Lord -hath forsaken us, and delivered us into the hand of the Midianites.” - -How often must such thoughts have passed through the mind of Gideon -before they thus found vent in words. Faith, sorely tried by present -trouble, was trying to draw from memories of the past hope for the -future. God, who had crushed the pride of Pharaoh, and led His people -forth from Egyptian bondage, would He not now save and avenge? There -had been miracles of old; such mercies as had been experienced by the -fathers, might they not also be reserved for the children? Was the Lord’s -arm shortened that it could not save; was He unmindful of the groans of -His people? Oh, why had He forsaken Israel, and given His heritage unto -reproach? - -“And the Lord looked upon Gideon, and said, Go in this thy might, and -thou shalt save Israel from the hand of the Midianites: have I not sent -thee?” - -Let us dwell for a few moments on the words, _The Lord looked upon -Gideon_. Thrice in the Scriptures do we read of a look from Him who -beholdeth all things in heaven and earth. In one sense the omniscient -God is for ever gazing down upon His creation; from Him ocean depths are -no hiding-place, and midnight darkness no screen. The eyes of the Lord -are in every place, beholding the evil and the good. But on some special -occasions God’s glance has in a peculiar way been directed upon man, as -the sunbeams that shine on all may be concentrated in the focus of a -burning-glass to kindle or to destroy. The Lord _looked_ from the pillar -of cloud upon the Egyptians, and they were troubled—they felt God’s wrath -in that gaze; the Lord _looked_ upon Gideon, and in that glance was new -courage and strength; the Lord _looked_ upon Peter, and beneath that gaze -of divine compassion and love his heart was broken and melted, and fast -flowed his penitential tears. Have we ever known the power of that look -in our hearts, to crush our sins, to encourage our faith, to bring us in -deep contrition to the feet of our merciful Lord? - -Gideon, like Moses before him, seems to have shrunk from the post of high -honour to which he was called by God; like Moses, he thought of his own -unfitness instead of the almighty power of Him who can employ—and often -does employ—feeble instruments to accomplish the most noble and difficult -works. “Oh my Lord,” he cried, “wherewith shall I save Israel? Behold, -my family is poor in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father’s house.” -Before honour is humility; had Gideon been great or wise in his own -eyes, we may well believe that God would have passed him by, to choose -one of a lowlier spirit to be the leader of Israel’s hosts. - -“Surely I will be with thee,” said the Lord, “and thou shalt smite the -Midianites as one man.” - -Still Gideon appears to have hesitated; perhaps a doubt lingered on his -mind as to the nature of Him who spake as having authority, but who as -yet had wrought no miracle to prove his divine commission. “If now I have -found grace in Thy sight,” said Gideon, “then show me a sign that Thou -talkest with me. Depart not hence, I pray Thee, until I come unto Thee, -and bring forth my present, and set it before Thee.” And the Holy One -said, “I will tarry till thou come again.” - -Then—like his father Abraham, glad to entertain the heavenly Guest—Gideon -made ready a feast. He prepared a kid, and unleavened cakes, and brought -them forth to the Lord, who had graciously awaited his return under the -oak of Ophrah—a spot which became as a temple consecrated by His divine -presence. - -The Holy One bade Gideon lay the food on the rock, and pour out the -broth. What man designed for a feast, God would receive as a sacrifice. -With the end of the staff which was in His hand the sacred Guest touched -the flesh and the unleavened cakes, and the stone on which they lay -became as an altar. Fire arose from the rock and consumed the offering -of Gideon, and the divine Being—who had thus accepted as God what was -presented to Him as man—vanished out of the sight of His servant. - -[Illustration: THE SACRIFICE.] - -The first emotion of the astonished Gideon seems to have been that of -terror. “Alas! O Lord God,” he exclaimed, “because I have seen an angel -of the Lord face to face.” - -A gracious promise of love came in answer to that cry of fear; we know -not whether the divine voice sounded in the mortal’s ear, or but spoke -with mysterious power in his soul. The Lord said unto Gideon, “Peace be -unto thee, fear not; thou shalt not die.” - -Then, in that holy spot where the Lord had deigned to appear in human -guise, Gideon built an altar, and called it _Jehovah shallum_, which is, -_The Lord send peace_. - -And now, beloved friends, let us apply to our hearts the lessons -contained in this portion of the history of Gideon. Hath not the Lord -appeared unto us with a promise of help and deliverance, if we in His -might will struggle against the enemies within? He comes to us not only -in the house of prayer, not only in seasons of holy communion, but when -we, like Gideon, are following the common occupations of life. His eye -is fixed upon us in tender compassion, and His message to the lowly -Christian entering on the battle-field of life is this: _Go in this thy -might: have I not sent thee? I will be with thee._ - -Let us glean from the Scriptures some promises of this blessing of the -Lord’s peculiar presence with His people. To those obeying His command -to preach the gospel amongst all nations, how precious through centuries -of toil and peril has been the gracious assurance: _Lo, I am with you -alway, even unto the end of the world_. To those almost sinking under the -heavy trials of life, how full of comfort is the promise: _Fear thou not; -for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God. I will strengthen -thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand -of My righteousness._ Through life, even unto the grave, the power of -that promise extends, so that the Christian can add in lowly trust: _Yea, -though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no -evil: for Thou art with me_. - -But who are they who can thus take to themselves the precious promises -of Christ? They who have come to Him in lowly faith; or rather, they to -whom the Lord hath come in the power of redeeming love. In the history -of Gideon we see a type of the Lord’s dealings with His people. He -is found of them that sought Him not; He comes to the sorrowful, the -oppressed, the tempted, and offers to them the free deliverance which -His mercy alone can bestow. We have nothing to give the sacred Guest -but the offering of a sin-stained heart, a heart wholly unworthy of His -acceptance, _till He touch it_, as He touched the offering of Gideon, and -the flame of divine love is kindled, and the sacrifice of a broken and -contrite heart becomes acceptable unto the Lord. Then, like Gideon, may -we raise our altar with grateful thanksgiving; and, while preparing for -the struggle with indwelling sin, feel assured that the Lord will “send -peace.” - -We are also reminded, by this transient visit of the Son of God to the -world, of His longer sojourn with the children of Israel, when for more -than thirty-three years the Redeemer waited on earth till the bitter -cup should be filled to the brim—till the great Sacrifice should be -offered—and then ascended to His Father in heaven, thereby granting -additional proof of His divinity to His adoring people. “The Lord send -peace,” was the name given by Gideon to his altar, and our Lord’s words -on the night before His crucifixion sound like a response to that name: -_Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world -giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it -be afraid._ - -But what is the promised peace? To Gideon his heavenly Visitor had spoken -of conflict: “Go in this thy might; thou shalt smite the Midianites as -one man.” In this command to Gideon, my brethren, we hear our Master’s -charge to ourselves, and learn what it is that can give us strength to -obey that charge. The Christian is promised peace, but it is such as may -be realized to some degree even in the midst of conflict; and it is that -peace which, after conflict, in its perfection crowneth victory. - -The Midianites within must be conquered, and the might which conquers -is from God. If disappointment blight our hopes, discontent fret our -spirits, dissension mar our peace, distrust shrink from expected -trials, we must yet lift up our eyes unto the hills from whence cometh -our help—we must yet ask, and we shall receive, the grace which can -supply all our need, and enable us to rise above the infirmities of -the flesh, the weakness of our fallen nature. Let us trust fearlessly, -let us trust alone in the might of our Lord. As long as we remain in -presumptuous self-confidence, the Midianites rest in possession; when we -cast ourselves in earnest prayer at the feet of the Saviour, He maketh us -_more than conquerors_. - -We contemplated Faith, when last we met here, as the tree which in winter -stands bare of foliage, black and leafless, yet with life within it. With -Gideon now that tree had felt the warm breath of spring—the Lord had -looked upon it, and the living sap had risen under the beams of the Sun -of Righteousness; the green leaves of hope were budding on the boughs. -Gideon had not as yet conquered his foes, but the Lord had promised that -he should do so, and the expectation of triumph was before him. - -Christian brethren, let us also rejoice in help, and so gird ourselves -up for the struggle before us, taking as the motto on our banner, _Go -in this thy might_, and as the cordial to our weak fainting hearts the -promise, _I will be with thee_. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VII. - -A SERMON BY THE FIRESIDE. - - -Isa stopped to speak a few words to Lottie after the short service was -ended. - -“O Miss Isa, I do hope you won’t be away long,” cried the young girl, -looking up into the face of her mistress with a pleading expression; “we -do miss you so sadly!” - -“Is my brother better?” asked Isa. - -“Master shuts himself up a deal in his room, and don’t care to be -disturbed, and seems worried like—he do,” replied Lottie with rustic -simplicity, and in a tone from which Isa too readily gathered that -neither Gaspar’s spirits nor his temper had improved since her departure. -“O Miss Isa, I wish you’d come back!” - -“Tell my brother that, without fail, I’ll come and see him to-morrow.” - -“And stay with him?” asked Lottie, anxiously. - -Isa hesitated for a moment, but she could not bring herself to say -“Yes.” There was to be on the following evening another of those -delightful little parties at the Castle, at which Isa anticipated that -she would enjoy one of the sweetest and purest of pleasures, that of -converse with the intellectual, the refined, and the good—converse that -gratifies at once the mind and the heart. Isa was little disposed to -exchange such pleasure for a dull, cheerless evening at the Lodge, spent -beside a peevish valetudinarian, who would neither appreciate nor thank -her for the sacrifice. No; she would make a compromise with conscience; -she would give the morning to her brother, and doubly enjoy the evening -from the consciousness of having performed an irksome duty. Isa sent -by Lottie a message to her brother, and then, only half satisfied with -herself, returned with Edith to the Castle. - -Lottie walked silently for a little time beside Mrs. Bolder, the grocer’s -wife, who was always the young girl’s companion to and from the evening -meeting. Lottie broke the silence by a sigh. - -“Oh, but the house has grown dull and lonesome!” she murmured. “Half of -the pleasure of going to the lecture was to talk it over after, and have -the hard things explained.” - -“You don’t find old Hannah much of a companion, I suppose.” - -“Hannah!” repeated Lottie dolefully; “she never speaks to me but to -chide; nor does master, for the matter of that. Oh, how I does miss dear -mother and brother! there’s no one near me as cares for me, now that Miss -Isa’s away. I’m afeard that the Midianite Discontent is creeping in after -all.” Poor Lottie, with her warm, impulsive, affectionate nature, found -even the “meat every day, and a sovereign a quarter,” insufficient to -brighten her solitary lot. - -“We ought to have learned this evening how to get rid of the Midianite,” -observed quiet Mrs. Bolder, but in a melancholy tone, for she herself was -oppressed with cares, and had by nature little spirit to struggle against -them. - -“Yes,” said Lottie more cheerfully; “_I will be with thee_, that is a -wonderful word! I will repeat it over and over to myself, when I lie -down, and when I get up, and when I’m about my work. We should never feel -lonesome or sad when the dear Lord says, _I will be with thee_: with us -all through our lives; and then when the time comes for us to die, we -know that we shall be _with Him_.” - -The same promise which strengthened a warrior of old for heroic deeds, -cheered and encouraged a little servant maid in her path of humble toil. -Lottie trod more lightly on her way when she thought of Gideon and his -heavenly Guest. - -Mrs. Bolder, after she had parted from Lottie, turned towards the single -shop in the hamlet of Wildwaste, which was kept by herself and her -husband. The shutters were up, so she saw no light, but the door was upon -the latch, and she entered through the shop into the little back-parlour -where Tychicus Bolder, seated by the fire, was awaiting his wife’s return -from the meeting. - -Sadly poor Miriam looked on what she called “the wreck of such a fine -man!” Over the hard-featured, smoke-dried looking face of Bolder, -wrinkled with many a line traced by care and pain, hung the white hair, -streaked here and there with iron gray. His beard had grown long, and lay -on his sunken chest; his back was bowed, his knees drawn up, as he sat -with his feet on the fender, with a black shawl of his wife’s wrapped -round his rheumatic frame. Bolder could not turn his head without pain; -but he bade his wife shut the door, come and sit beside him, and tell him -all about the parson’s lecture. - -“Oh, how different it was in the days when it was you that went, and you -that had the telling—you who can talk like a parson yourself!” sighed -Mrs. Bolder, as she stirred the fire, which was getting low, as Bolder -had no power to stir it himself. - -“Wife,” said Bolder solemnly, “you’ve been to a lecture, and I dare say -a good one, for I think more of Mr. Eardley now than I did in old times; -but I’ve had my sermon too, as I sat here by the fire, and my preacher -was one as spoke with more power than Mr. Eardley, or any other parson -under the sun!” - -[Illustration: MR. AND MRS. BOLDER.] - -“Why, who can have been here?” exclaimed Mrs. Bolder, glancing towards -the door. - -“Sit down, wife, and I’ll tell you all,” said Tychicus Bolder. “When you -had gone out, and I was left alone with my pain—” - -“I’m sure I’d gladly have stayed with you,” interrupted Miriam; “I went -because you told me to go.” - -“I know it—I know it—I sent you. Well, as I sat here alone with my pain, -I began turning over in my mind what you’d told me of the last lecture, -of the Midianites in possession. Ay, thinks I, I have them all here, -every one of the four. There’s Disappointment; for wasn’t I a thriving -man, and looking to get up higher and higher in the world—leave this -place and take a larger business in Axe—till this sickness came, and -pulled me back, and made it hard enough to struggle on here!” - -Mrs. Bolder mournfully shook her head. - -“And isn’t there Discontent; for it has often seemed as if the pain, and -the weakness, and the helplessness were a’most more than man could bear!” - -“I’m sure that no man could bear them more—” Miriam stopped in the midst -of her sentence, less from a doubt as to its perfect truth than because -she saw that her husband did not wish to be interrupted; so she relapsed -into her usual position—that of a listener. - -“There’s Dissension, for I feel ready to quarrel with all the world; and -Distrust, for I can’t bring myself to think that I’ve not been hardly -dealt with. Now if, as the parson said, all these enemies are most like -to come, like the Midianites, to a soul where there’s been an idol set -up, where was the idol in mine? You see, wife, pain and loneliness set an -old man thinking.” - -“You never had an idol,” said the wife; “in the midst of such a drunken, -disorderly, quarrelsome set as we have here in Wildwaste, you took the -pledge, and kept it too—never a drop of the poison wetted your lips; -there’s not many a man would have kept steady, standing all alone as you -did. And then you didn’t worship Mammon; no man can say of you that your -money was not honestly earned—every penny that you took in.” - -“Bating a few overcharges,” muttered Bolder; “on the whole, I did keep my -hands pretty clean.” - -“And you was so religious, too; knew your Bible so well, could have done -for a preacher yourself. If a parson made a mistake, or wasn’t quite -sound in the doctrine, you was the man who could set him right; you was -such a judge of a sermon!” - -“I thought myself so,” said Bolder. - -“I can’t make out the reason why God sends you all these troubles,” -pursued the admiring wife, “unless it be as He let them come to Job, -’cause he was better than any one else, and God wanted to try his -patience.” - -“Now, wife, it’s all very well that you should think this,” said Bolder, -in his peculiar tone of decision, “I was ready enough to think it myself; -but when I came this evening to turn the matter over as I sat here alone, -I could not look at things just in the same light as before. I found -this soul of mine all full of what the parson calls Midianites; I had -not noticed one of ’em when I was in health and prosperity, but when -troubles came, then came they, like the birds of prey round a sick sheep -as it lies in the field. Then I set to thinking what idol I could have -set up when all things seemed going well with me;—no, don’t interrupt -me, Miriam—I was certain there had been something wrong. And then an -old anecdote came into my mind, which I’d heard many years back, but -which I’d never really understood—I mean with my heart, not my head. It -was about a young parson who was talking on religion to an old pious -ploughman as they walked together in a field. Says the parson, ‘The -hardest thing is to deny sinful self.’ ‘Nay, sir,’ said the ploughman, -‘the hardest thing, I take it, is to deny _righteous_ self.’ Why, here, -thinks I, is the key to the whole matter. Here have I been living in -Wildwaste, counting myself an example to all the people around, thanking -God, like the Pharisee, that I was a deal better than other men, sitting -in judgment even at church, setting up a great idol of self. And so God -has let the enemies come in, just to show me that I am not the saint that -I took myself for, just to set me crying to Him for help, to bring me to -say, what else I had never said, _I abhor myself, and repent in dust and -ashes_.” - -Mrs. Bolder, who had been accustomed to look up to her husband as a kind -of infallible pope in his home, one whose wisdom should never be doubted, -whose opinions should never be disputed, could not at once alter her -long-cherished ideas, but only ventured to express dissent by a little -mournful shake of the head. - -“I was always ready enough to judge others,” continued Bolder, “but it -was a new thing for me to judge myself. I was quick enough to see God’s -justice in punishing other men, but when the rod came upon myself, then -his dealings seemed hard. I could almost exult when the publican’s house -was burned and he ruined, or when the poor guilty wretch was smothered in -the bog;—that was righteous vengeance, said I. But when my own comfort -was touched, when trouble came to my home, I could neither see mercy nor -justice, and fierce, rebellious, unbelieving thoughts swept, like the -Midianites, right over my soul.” - -“Mr. Bolder,” said the anxious wife (she never ventured to address him by -his Christian name), “I shall never like to leave you so long again, for -I’m sure and certain that being alone is bad for your spirits.” - -“Wife, I was no more alone than Gideon was when the angel came to him -under the oak. I told you that a powerful preacher had been here, and -I told you nought but the truth. The Lord has been preaching to this -proud heart; and if you wish to know the text, it was this, _Unless ye -be converted, and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter -the kingdom of heaven_. There be many mansions there, but not one for -the self-righteous Pharisee. I had thought myself a long way on the road -to heaven, and I found I’d to go back every step of the way, and begin -at the beginning. If it had not been for what God has shown me, through -sickness and trouble, of the evil lurking in my heart, I might have gone -on blind and self-confident to the last, and never have had my eyes -opened at all—till the terrible Day of Judgment.” - -It is doubtful whether Tychicus Bolder’s words convinced his wife, but -at least they silenced her, and she could feel that the change which had -passed over the proud, opinionative man was a change for the better; he -was more patient and resigned under suffering, and far less disposed -to pass a sweeping sentence of condemnation on all his neighbours in -Wildwaste. When Bolder began to judge himself, he became less ready to -judge others; humility and charity are twin-sisters, and constantly -walk hand-in-hand. Tychicus himself regarded that evening of quiet -heart-searching as a crisis in his life; the Lord had visited his soul, -and had left a blessing and a promise behind. - -And is not this the history of many a human heart? The great enemy, -ever on the watch to destroy, forms temptations of the very virtues of -men, leading them, as it were, to make a raft of their own honesty, -temperance, respectability, alms-giving, so that, trusting on that to -stem the flood, they may not seek refuge in the only Ark that can bear -them to a heavenly shore. The Almighty, on the other hand, making _all_ -things to work together for the good of His people, even their very -failures and imperfections, shows them the hollowness and rottenness -of all on which they rested, that they may not trust their soul’s -safety to anything but the merits and mercies of Christ. Praise, even -from the lips of his heavenly Master, seems to have led St. Peter into -presumption, so that the _Blessed art thou_ had soon to be followed by -the _Get thee behind me, Satan_; while through the guilt of a three-fold -denial the apostle was led, by God’s grace, to earnest repentance, -distrust of himself, and more fervent love to his pardoning Lord. Thus -God still enables a David to slay Goliath with his own sword. But for -the visitation of the Midianites, grievous and evil as it was in itself, -Gideon would perhaps never have been blessed with the visit of the angel -of the Lord. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE SISTER’S VISIT. - - -Isa did not fail to keep her promise. Finding that Mrs. Holdich was about -to visit Wildwaste on the following morning, Isa availed herself of her -escort; for the people of the hamlet were so rough, that the young lady -disliked crossing the common alone. Rebekah Holdich carried with her a -remedy for rheumatism, which she hoped might relieve the sufferings of -Bolder. The steward’s wife was the general doctress of the neighbourhood; -to her, as to their natural friend, came all who had sorrow or sickness -in their homes, just as any labourer in difficulty or distress was sure -to seek the advice and help of her husband. - -Isa Gritton entered into conversation with Rebekah, who was a woman of -education and refinement beyond what might be expected from one in her -station of life. - -“I find,” observed Isa, “that you were the first friend of my little -maid Lottie, that it was you who taught her to read, and first led her to -think of her soul, or rather to know that she had such a thing as a soul.” - -“I was very sorry for the poor little child; she had a most wretched -home,” replied Mrs. Holdich. - -“Is it true that her father was of such a very violent temper?” - -“So violent when he had been drinking,” said Rebekah, “that I have seen -the poor child disfigured for weeks from blows received from her father; -and as for her unhappy mother, there is not a doubt that she would have -been actually killed by Abner Stone in one of his drunken fits, had not -Mr. Madden nobly saved her life at the peril of his own. The ruffian was -going to dash out her brains with a poker.” - -“And Mr. Lionel came forward——” - -“Oh, not Mr. Lionel,” said Mrs. Holdich with a smile; “I am not aware -that he ever entered a cottage; it was his younger brother, who is now -labouring for God in the Holy Land, he who built the pretty school-house -at Wildwaste, who saved poor Deborah’s life. The beautiful carvings from -Bethlehem which you saw in our cottage were sent to me by him.” - -“What has become of Lottie’s father?” asked Isa, after having walked on -for some minutes in silence. - -“No one knows,” replied Rebekah. “Abner Stone suddenly disappeared from -this part of the country, after a gentleman had been found lying on the -road, having been knocked off his horse by a highwayman. It is more than -suspected that Stone did the deed, but fled on hearing some one come up -to the spot.” - -“It is strange,” observed Isa, “that Lottie could speak with tenderness -of such a parent; her eyes filled with tears when she expressed her hopes -that God would one day bring him back.” - -“Her mother will never hear a word spoken against him,” said Rebekah. -“Poor Deborah Stone is a true, faithful wife, and I believe prays night -and day for the return of a husband whom she has loved through such -trials as few but herself could have borne. I cannot help thinking,” -pursued the steward’s gentle wife, “that there must have been some good -even in Abner when he was sober; it is the fatal habit of drinking which -makes a savage even of a kind-hearted man.” - -“Lottie was looking sad yesterday evening at the lecture,” observed Isa. - -“Maybe the poor child frets after her mother and brother,—they were never -separated before; they have clung together through sorrow and hardship, -and Lottie may feel lonely at first away from her home, though it is but -a poor one.” - -“It is not easy to arrange for the family to meet,” said Isa. “Mrs. -Stone has to earn her own living, and Axe is at least six miles from -Wildwaste.” - -“I hope that you will not mind my mentioning it, Miss Gritton,” said -Rebekah, in a deferential tone, “but our little open cart is going on -Saturday to Axe to bring our Ned to pass the Sunday with us,”—Mrs. -Holdich’s eye brightened as she spoke of the expected visit from her -son—“and if Lottie could be spared, I am sure that she would be most -welcome to a place in it, to go and see her poor mother.” - -“A good and kind thought,” replied Isa. “She might stay over Sunday at -Axe, and return in the baker’s cart on the following morning.” - -“If you could kindly spare her,” repeated Mrs. Holdich, almost as much -pleased at the prospect of the lonely Deborah having the comfort of a -visit from her child, as in the expectation of welcoming her own. - -“Leave of absence will be easily given,” observed Isa, “especially as I -am not living at Wildwaste at present; so the services of our little maid -are less required, as she was engaged upon my account.” - -Mrs. Holdich turned towards the shop of Bolder, after accompanying Miss -Gritton to the door of the new brick tenement, which appeared to Isa yet -more bare and destitute either of beauty or comfort every time that she -returned from the wood-girdled Castle of Lestrange. - -Lottie was waiting at the open door to receive her mistress, having been -eagerly on the watch for her return. - -“Would you like to go home to your mother, Lottie?” said Isa. - -Instead of the sparkle of delight which Isa expected to call up in the -black eyes of her little maid, an anxious look of inquiry filled them. - -“O Miss Isa! I know I bees awkward, I did break another saucer last -night—but—but won’t you give me a little longer trial?” - -Isa was amused at the confession, made with evident effort, for the blood -rushed to the face of the simple girl as she spoke. “I had no thought of -sending you away, Lottie,” said the young mistress, kindly; “but if you -would like to pass a couple of days with your mother, Mrs. Holdich will -give you a seat in her cart which is going on Saturday to Axe.” - -It was pleasant to Isa to see the sudden transition to joy on the -countenance of her little servant; Lottie clapped her hands like a child -to whom a holiday is promised. With a heart warmed by the sight of the -innocent happiness which she had given, Isa Gritton opened the door of -her brother’s study, and entered the dull apartment with a light step and -radiant smile, like one whose presence could make “sunshine in a shady -place.” Gaspar was seated by a fireless grate; though shivering with -chilliness, he would not indulge in a fire in April. He certainly looked -even more sickly than usual, and Isa felt her cheerfulness damped at -once as, without rising, her brother held out two cold fingers to her, -with the dry observation, “So you can actually leave the delights of the -Castle for an hour, to see if your brother be dead or alive!” - -“Nay, dear Gaspar,” said Isa, expostulatingly, as she seated herself by -his side, “if I thought that you needed my society—that I could be a -real comfort to you—” she stopped short, being too candid to make empty -professions, and not having made up her mind how far she could truthfully -go. - -“I don’t care for words, I like deeds,” observed Gaspar, coldly; “women -always can talk.” - -The fresh, bright colour which Isa had brought in from her walk over -the common, deepened a little on her cheek, but she had resolved to -be patient and cheerful, and let her visit give nothing but pleasure. -Though it might be scarcely necessary to tell Gaspar that she had given -a holiday to her young maid, it occurred to Isa that it might be well to -show him the deference of asking his consent. - -“Lottie would be very glad to see her mother,” observed Isa after a short -silence; “she is a poor, shy little bird, that has never before left -the nest; Mrs. Holdich has arranged to make all easy for her going on -Saturday to Axe, if you’ll kindly give her leave for two days.” - -“I shall do no such thing,” replied Gaspar, peevishly; “I don’t give a -girl wages for going to see her mother.” - -Isa was a little annoyed, but without betraying that she felt so, -observed, “I am sure that Hannah would manage nicely without her for -so short a time. You know, Gaspar, that you yourself thought a second -servant unnecessary here.” - -“I do so still,” said Mr. Gritton, taking a pinch of snuff; “but as long -as I keep two, I’ll have the services for which I pay.” - -“But, Gaspar, I hope that this time—as a personal favour to myself—you -will graciously grant leave of absence. I have given Lottie hopes, or -rather permission to go to her mother; it would vex me were she to be -disappointed.” - -Lottie herself had just opened the door, having come to ask Miss Isa if -she would not take some refreshment after her walk. She caught Isa’s last -sentence, and stood with her hand on the door-handle, quite innocent of -any intention of eavesdropping, but too anxious to hear her master’s -answer to think of anything else. - -“Oh, you’ve given permission, have you! then I don’t see why you should -take the trouble of asking mine,” said Gaspar, ungraciously. “Let her -go, it is nothing to me; I don’t care if she stay away altogether, an -awkward, clumsy gipsy-girl, not worth the salt that she eats.” - -Lottie retreated, closing the door behind her, and ran hastily up-stairs -to indulge in a good hearty cry. Isa saw the poor girl retiring, and was -annoyed at the mortification so needlessly inflicted on a warm young -heart. - -[Illustration: LOTTIE’S GRIEF.] - -Gaspar having, though so uncourteously, yielded the point in question, -his sister changed the subject of conversation. She drew from her bag a -copy of the _Times_. - -“I did not forget your wishes, Gaspar; but my uncle would be glad to have -the paper back, as he has the _Times_ bound at the end of the year.” - -Gaspar took the periodical without thanks, and prepared himself for the -enjoyment of its perusal by a copious pinch of snuff, scattering the -brown powder as he did so over the printed sheet. Isa knew that the -baronet was very particular about his papers, and mentally resolved never -again to ask for a loan of the _Times_. - -Gaspar pushed his chair round towards the light, and settled himself -to read, taking no further notice of Isa, who sat undecided whether to -remain or to leave him to the occupation which he evidently found more -interesting than her society. Isa had stored her memory with little -anecdotes and small scraps of news which she thought might amuse the -recluse, but Gaspar showed no wish to enter into conversation. His sister -thought with regret of the time when they used to meet in London under -the roof of a friend, when her brother had appeared to her to be all -courtesy and kindness. - -“Does he love me less because he knows me better?” was the disheartening -thought which crossed her mind. - -Mr. Gritton read for some minutes in silence, and Isa was thinking of -rising to depart, when, looking over his newspaper, her brother suddenly -addressed her. - -“Isa, have you ever met that woman?” - -“I do not know of whom you are speaking,” answered Isa. - -“Cora Madden, of course,” said Gaspar. “I repeat—have you ever met her?” - -“Yes; several times, years ago,” replied his sister. - -“And did you ever speak to her; did you come upon the subject of—of—what -we were speaking about the other morning?” - -“Certainly not,” answered Isa; “I have never seen her since my loss; of -our dear father’s last words I have spoken to no one but yourself; I was -not even aware of the name of the orphan to whom he referred.” - -Gaspar fixed on his sister a gaze so keen and suspicious that it aroused -in her bosom an emotion of indignation. “Were you intimate with her, -or with any of the Maddens?” he inquired, in the tone of a lawyer -cross-questioning a witness. Isa shrank as if his rough hand had touched -a scarcely healed wound. - -“I was never intimate with Cora,” she replied; “it seemed to me that she -disliked me, but I never knew till now that she had any cause to do so.” - -“She had no cause—none—none,” said Gaspar, almost stuttering in the -eagerness of his denial. “I told you and I tell you again, that you -utterly mistook the meaning of that message from my father. I could not -help the ship going down—I had always dealt fairly by Miss Madden.” - -There are occasions when something in the manner of a speaker serves not -only to neutralize the force of his words, but actually to impress on -the hearer a strong contradiction of the meaning intended. Such was the -case with Gaspar’s. Isa had had a suspicion that her brother had wronged -Cora in some pecuniary matter, but his manner of denying it changed -suspicion into conviction, and it kindled her indignation to believe -that he was now adding falsehood to fraud. The very air of the room grew -oppressive to Isa, the presence of Gaspar was painful, and when Mr. -Gritton, after his stammered-forth declaration, became again absorbed -in the _Times_, making the rustling paper a screen between himself and -his sister, Isa rose, unwilling to prolong so unpleasant a visit. The -parting between brother and sister was cold and constrained; Gaspar saw -that he had not satisfied Isa, and mingled resentment, fear, and shame, -struggled together in his breast. Isa gave a long-drawn sigh of relief -when she found herself again in the open air, and could turn her back -upon Wildwaste Lodge. - -“I am certain that wrong has been done,” thought Isa, as she slowly bent -her steps towards Bolder’s dwelling, “but it is not for me to repair it. -Cora has been sent poverty, doubtless, as a well-merited chastisement; -let me banish the subject from my mind. But why is it that my interest in -the orphan’s cause has so much cooled since I have learned that orphan’s -name? Why is it that even with my distress and shame on account of my -unhappy brother there is mingled—dare I own it—something that resembles a -feeling of gratified revenge! Here, indeed, is a Midianite in the soul! -Cora is the only being upon earth whom I regard with actual aversion, but -I knew not till now how such aversion could warp my sense of justice—of -right! Oh! what revelations God makes to us of the evil lurking within -our own hearts, which the world had not suspected, which we had never -suspected ourselves!” - -To Isa’s self-reproach was added another emotion as painful,—the fear -that duty might call for some effort on her part to set right what was -wrong, to work on the conscience of her brother, to try to induce him -to retrace his steps if he had wandered from the path of rectitude. -Isa trembled at the very thought of what might lie before her; never -previously had duty worn to her an aspect so repulsive. Isa knew that -she ought to endeavour, by self-denying kindness, to strengthen her -influence over Gaspar; that it should be one of the chief objects of her -life to win his confidence and his love; instead of doing this, she could -not help perceiving with mortification that, since coming to Wildwaste, -she had been steadily losing ground in the affections of her brother. -He thought her selfish, worldly, indifferent to his comfort. Could it -be that she was indeed so? Were her most pure and innocent earthly -enjoyments becoming a snare to her soul? - -Such distressing reflections kept Isa very silent as she retraced her -steps towards Castle Lestrange by the side of Rebekah Holdich. The -steward’s wife had too much delicacy to intrude conversation where she -saw that it would not be welcome; she perceived that the short visit -to the Lodge had had the effect of damping the spirits of Miss Gritton. -Rebekah’s own heart, on the contrary, was filled with gladness, on -account of the change which she had found in one who had once appeared -to her hard and unimpressionable as granite. Tychicus had ever seemed -to Rebekah an opinionative, self-righteous man, and though she had -pitied his sufferings, and had done what she could to relieve them, her -compassion for the invalid had not been strengthened by personal regard. -But on this day Rebekah had found Tychicus softened, humbled, subdued. -She had heard him for the first time own that it had been good for him to -be afflicted, for he had learned more of himself and of his Saviour in -trouble than he had ever known in prosperous days. The furnace was doing -its work; and while Mrs. Bolder plaintively lamented that her husband -must be “down in heart, to do himself such injustice,” her friend was -secretly rejoicing that the Pharisee as well as the publican may be led -to cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner!” - -“I remember,” thought Rebekah, “what Mr. Eardley once said to my boy when -he stood watching a caterpillar spinning a very beautiful cocoon. ‘God -sets that little creature a task to do, and diligently and skilfully he -does it; and so God gives us good works to perform in His name and for -His sake. But were the insect to remain satisfied for ever in the silken -ball which he is weaving, it would become not his home but his tomb. -No; forcing a way through it, and not resting in it, will the winged -creature reach sunshine and air. He must leave his own works behind, if -he would shine in freedom and joy. And so it is with the Christian. If he -_rest in his own works_, whatever they may be, he is dead to God and lost -to glory; he is making of what he may deem _virtues_ a barrier between -himself and his Saviour.’ Yes,” mused Rebekah; “God be praised that poor -Bolder is making his way through the silken web; he is feeling the need -of other righteousness than his own.” - -As soon as Isa arrived at the Castle, she tried to put away all -remembrance of her painful visit to Wildwaste, but it haunted her during -the greater part of the day. In the evening, however, when a circle of -friends gathered around Sir Digby’s hospitable board, her efforts were -more successful. Isa was naturally formed both to attract in society -and to enjoy it; she delighted in “the feast of reason and the flow of -soul;” her spirits had the elasticity of youth, and as she sat at the -head of her uncle’s table, with everything that could please and gratify -around her, Isa felt that life might still become to her a bright and -joyous thing. Her soul was as a well-tuned harp, giving out cheerful and -harmonious music, till a few sentences overheard of the conversation -between two of the guests jarred on her as if a discordant string had -been suddenly touched, and brought the shadow of past trial over the -brightness of present enjoyment. - -“You know Lionel Madden, then?” - -“A little; his wife I have known for the last thirty years. I hear that -their union is by no means a happy one; but what else could be expected -when she married only for the sake of a handsome face, and he for that of -a handsome fortune?” - -“They say that Miss Madden made the match.” - -“She certainly did,” was the reply. “Cora had lost almost all her own -money in some unlucky investment, so was resolved that her brother at -least should keep a carriage. But in the case of the Maddens the driving -fell to the share of the ladies, and the bride found that, as two suns -cannot shine in one orbit, so two sisters-in-law cannot yield one whip, -and poor Cora was, metaphorically speaking, very speedily left on the -road.” - -Isa felt her cheeks glow at this incidental mention of those whose fates -had been so closely linked with her own, and, perhaps to cover her -emotion, said in a very low voice to Mr. Eardley, who was seated beside -her, “Do you not count the light gossip which sports with the characters -and concerns of the absent, amongst ‘the Midianites in the soul’?” - -“I should count as such everything that mars the charity or spirituality -of Christians,” replied the clergyman. “Such things are, indeed, like -Midian, a great host; not one giant foe to be overcome once and for -ever, but a legion that incessantly harass, whether in the circles of -society, or in the sacred central point of home.” - -The last word recalled to Isa’s mind the image of an invalid brother, -left in dull loneliness; and a slight scarcely audible sigh, told of a -secret emotion of self-reproach and misgiving. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER IX. - - -On Friday evening Mr. Eardley, in the cottage of Holdich, went on with -the history which he had chosen as his theme. - - -LECTURE III.—FAITH IN OBEDIENCE. - -We are to-day to examine faith in a further state of development. If only -the green leaves of hope appear, if—as with the barren fig-tree in the -parable—there be no fruit, or promise of fruit, hope itself becomes but -self-deception. _Why call ye Me Lord, Lord, and do not the things which -I say?_ asked the Saviour; _If ye love Me, keep My commandments._ Faith -must blossom into obedience, as we see the fruit-trees in our orchards -now bursting into brightness and beauty. Yes; obedience is the blossom, -and the essence of its fragrance, _self-denial_. In heaven obedience -is ever a source of delight; but in a world of sin like this, it must, -sooner or later, involve a sacrifice of the human will to the divine. -Sweet to our Lord is the fragrance which rises like incense when the -lips of his servant—tempted and tried—can echo the words once breathed -from His own to His Father in heaven, _Not as I will, but as Thou wilt_. - -Gideon had received a promise from the Lord: it was linked, as God’s -promises ever are, with a command. That night the Lord thus spake to the -son of Joash: “Take thy father’s young bullock, even the second bullock -of seven years old, and throw down the altar of Baal that thy father -hath, and cut down the grove that is by it; and build an altar unto the -Lord thy God upon the top of this rock, in the ordered place, and take -the second bullock, and offer a burnt sacrifice with the wood of the -grove which thou shalt cut down.” - -Many difficulties lay in the way of the execution of such a command, -and obedience to it must be fraught with great danger. We should not -have marvelled had we found that Gideon had pleaded to be spared a part -at least of the painful task assigned him. He was not of the tribe to -which pertained the service of the sanctuary; he had, under ordinary -circumstances, no right to offer such a sacrifice to God. His own -father was an idolater: was it for Gideon to destroy what a parent had -set up, to draw down upon himself, as might be expected, the severe -displeasure of that parent, and perhaps involve Joash in the peril to -which he himself would be certainly exposed? Then—as Gideon might have -anxiously reflected—as it would be impossible for him by the strength of -his single right hand to cut down a grove, destroy an altar, and build -another as God had commanded, where was he to find comrades trusty enough -and bold enough to help in the perilous work? - -Gideon is not represented in the sacred narrative as a man likely to -rush heedlessly upon an enterprise of difficulty and danger, and such -thoughts as I have suggested are likely to have passed through his mind. -They would have led many in his place to frame excuses, or at least -to interpose delays. But we hear not of Gideon doing either. A direct -command had been given; simple, unquestioning obedience followed. Gideon -took ten men of his servants, and did as the Lord had said unto him. -Conscious of danger to be apprehended, not only from the Midianites and -the men of his own city, but even from the household of his father, the -son of Joash chose the night-time to accomplish his task. Under the -cover of darkness, when other eyes were closed in sleep, Gideon and his -companions felled the trees of the grove, cast down the altar of Baal, -and raised another to Israel’s God. They led thither the appointed -sacrifice, slew the bullock, and set fire to the wood, from whence the -smoke of the burnt-offering rose towards heaven. That was a busy, an -eventful, and must have been an anxious night to Gideon. By so decisive -an act, he had indeed drawn the sword and thrown the scabbard away. - -[Illustration: THE ALTAR RAISED.] - -The deed was done, the match was laid to the train, and Gideon must have -awaited in anxious expectation the explosion which was certain to follow. -The morning’s light revealed the work of the night; the idolatrous men -of the city beheld the altar of Baal laid low in the dust, and from -mouth to mouth passed the question, “Who hath done this thing?” If -Gideon had entertained any hope of concealment, that hope was a brief -one; either one of his comrades had turned informer, or some lurking spy -had witnessed his act, or, as seems more probable, he had already won -such a character for uncompromising fidelity to his God, that suspicion -instantly fixed upon him as the man who had dared to cut down the grove, -and destroy the idol-altar. “Gideon, the son of Joash, hath done this -thing.” - -Then rose the furious cry for blood from the enraged worshippers of Baal. -They demanded the life of the man who had dared to insult their god. - -The Almighty raised up a protector for Gideon. It was the altar of an -idolatrous father which he had cast down, and we might have expected the -fury of Joash to have been turned against him; but the hearts of all men -are in the hand of the Lord, and we find Joash suddenly in the character -of a defender of his son’s bold act. Many a prayer may have risen from -the depth of Gideon’s soul when he beheld his father, a descendant of -Abraham, debasing himself by worshipping Baal. His own noble deed seems -to have had the effect of opening the eyes of his parent to the folly of -bowing down to an idol that could not protect his shrine from insult. -With spirit and courage Joash faced those who would have sacrificed to -vengeance the life of his son. “Will ye plead for Baal?” he cried; “will -ye save him? He that will plead for him, let him be put to death whilst -it is yet morning; if he be a god, let him plead for himself, because one -hath cast down his altar!” and Joash called Gideon Jerubbaal, “let Baal -plead,” in mockery of the false god to whom he himself had once bowed -down. - -We are not directly told what was the effect of Joash’s speech on the -men of his city, Abiezer, but we can easily gather what it was from the -recorded fact that on Gideon’s blowing a trumpet they were the first to -rally around him; they who had demanded his blood now acknowledged him as -their leader. A spirit of patriotism appears to have been suddenly roused -in Israel, and the people, in throwing off the bonds of superstition -and idolatry, rose also to shake off the fetters of their earthly -oppressors. Messengers were sent by Gideon throughout Manasseh, and to -Asher, Zebulon, and Naphtali. From the slopes of Hermon and Tabor, from -the shores of the Lake of Gennesareth, from the banks of the Jordan, -from that northern portion of Canaan in which, in after times, the -Saviour spent the years of His boyhood, hastened the liberators of Israel -at the call of their Heaven-appointed chief. Nor was the enemy idle. -The Midianites, the Amalekites, and the children of the East gathered -together, and pitched in the valley of Jezreel. That valley and the -country adjacent are full of historical associations of deep interest. -Jezreel appears to have been in the centre of the great plain of -Esdraelon, or Megiddo, which is bounded on the north by the mountains of -Galilee, on the south by those of Samaria, and in which flow the water of -Kishon, “that ancient river” which swept away Sisera’s hosts. Well might -the triumphant song of Deborah here recur to Gideon, to brace up his soul -for the coming conflict. He saw around him the warriors of Zebulon and -Naphtali, the tribes who, under Barak, _jeoparded their lives unto the -death in the high places of the field_. Joash himself may have been one -of the heroes who had _willingly offered themselves_ to oppose the might -of Sisera, and may have heard from the lips of the prophetess the strain -of triumph which closed with the words, _So let all Thine enemies perish, -O Lord: but let them that love Him be as the sun when he goeth forth in -his might_. - -And now we behold the young Manassite, who was so lately threshing corn -alone by the wine-press to hide it, a general at the head of an army of -thirty-two thousand men. Such success, such a blessing had followed on -faith shown in obedience! And here let us leave Gideon, and apply to -ourselves the lesson conveyed in his marvellous story. - -Every command of our heavenly Master, my brethren, is as a -treasure-casket, to be opened by the key of obedience grasped in the -hand of faith. The casket may to our eyes look hard and repulsive, the -tempter may seek to persuade us that we shall either find it empty, or -filled with bitterest gall. But _wait on the Lord, and keep His way, and -He shall exalt thee. The blessing of the Lord it maketh rich, and He -addeth no sorrow with it._ Look at Noah, employed during _a hundred and -twenty years_, amidst the mocking and scorn of a most wicked generation, -in building an enormous ark in obedience to God’s command. What did he -find at last in it to reward his labour of patience, his obedience of -faith. Present deliverance from death for himself and his family, and -the sceptre of a renovated world! Remember Abraham and his anguish when -he received the mysterious command to sacrifice his son—the son whom -he tenderly loved. Did not the tempter urge him in that awful hour to -cast away his obedience, to turn from a command which to human nature -appeared so hard? The hand of faith might tremble, but it refused not the -awful task; and what lay enclosed within the dreaded command? A treasure -compared to which earth’s crowns are but baubles, and all its riches -dust. The promise of a Saviour to spring from Abraham’s line, in whom all -the families of the earth should be blessed! - -We also have before us commands enclosing blessings reserved for those -to whom grace is given to obey God’s will through the power of faith. In -the difficult task appointed for Gideon we may trace an emblem of that -set before every individual who bears the name of Christian. There is -first the altar of Baal to be thrown down; _self_ must be dethroned from -its shrine, the heart’s idolatry must be renounced; and who can say that -to yield up self-will is not as difficult a duty as that which Gideon -performed on that eventful night at Ophrah? There is also the grove to be -cut down, a type of those things lawful and even beautiful in themselves, -but which become to us snares if they stand in the way of duty, if they -hide from us heaven’s light. God hath given to us all things richly to -enjoy; but if the gifts make us forget the Giver, if they cause us to -neglect appointed duties, they are as the goodly trees by the altar of -Baal, whose wood was to be used as fuel, and not reserved for shade. - -Thirdly, there is the altar to be raised, the appointed sacrifice to be -offered. I need scarcely remind you, my friends, that in this sacrifice -there is _nothing of atonement_—the blood of Christ, and that _alone_, -has power to cleanse from sin, or to reconcile the sinner to God; yet -is the Christian permitted, yea, _commanded_, to offer himself a living -sacrifice, _holy, acceptable unto God_. As Gideon was not of the priestly -tribe, and yet was given special grace to perform the priestly office, -so the Lord deigns to make of His ransomed servants _a royal priesthood_ -as well as _a peculiar people_. Christ’s sacrifice was the Sacrifice of -Atonement; the sacrifice of His saints is that of thanksgiving. _The -offering of a free heart will I give Thee, O Lord, and praise Thy name._ - -To each one amongst us to whom a present Saviour has been revealed by -faith, the word of the Lord hath come as to the son of Joash. We may -have rejoiced in the _promise_, but have we obeyed the command? Let -us be honest with ourselves, my brethren; if the altar of Baal be yet -standing, can we hope to drive the Midianites out of the land? Faith, if -_real_, must appear in obedience; _show me thy faith without thy works, -and I will show thee my faith by my works_, saith the inspired apostle. -I commend the subject to your earnest attention. Let each search and -try his own heart, and compare his life with the law of his God. Let -each remember that even _every thought_ must be brought captive to the -obedience of Christ, through the aid of the Holy Spirit, without whom we -can do nothing pleasing to the Lord. I cannot better close our meditation -on this subject than by repeating the words of our Redeemer in His Sermon -on the Mount:—_Whosoever heareth these sayings of Mine, and doeth them, -I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: and -the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat -upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock. And -every one that heareth these sayings of Mine, and doeth them not, shall -be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: and -the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat -upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it._ - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER X. - -OPENING THE CASKET. - - -After the close of the service, Isa, as before, spoke to her little -black-eyed maid, and inquired after the health of Gaspar. - -“Master has caught cold in his eyes, and he says it’s east wind, and -shuts himself up. He can’t read, nor write, and he seems very dull-like,” -said Lottie, whose own sunburnt face was bright with the anticipated -holiday before her. - -Isa sent a message to Mr. Gritton, and after exchanging a few words with -Henry Eardley, left the cottage with Edith Lestrange. The little heiress -thought her cousin unusually silent as they walked back to the Castle. - -“Edith, dear,” said Isa at last, “I am going to return to Wildwaste -to-morrow.” - -“Not to stay there, I hope,” cried Edith. - -“Yes, to stay there,” replied Isa, suppressing a sigh. “I feel that poor -Gaspar needs me; I think that my right place is home.” - -“Perhaps it is,” said Edith, reluctantly. Unwilling as she was to part -with her cousin, Edith’s own views were clear on the subject; the nearest -relation had the nearest claim—nothing would have induced her to leave -her own father when he needed the comfort of her presence. Edith thought -it wrong to try to prevent Isa from doing what she would have thought it -right to do in her place. - -The baronet was not, however, so forbearing. When his niece announced -to him her intention of leaving the Castle on the following day, -he playfully but strongly opposed her resolution. Sir Digby justly -considered that Isa’s companionship was both a pleasure and an advantage -to his child, while her lively conversation and intelligence made it -also agreeable to himself. Sir Digby felt that his graceful niece was -an ornament to his Castle, and would fain have ignored altogether her -connection with “a low man retired from business, who had disfigured the -neighbourhood by sticking up on the heath a cockney villa, which only -wanted a swinging sign to be mistaken for a newly built public-house.” - -“Having you safe here in ward in this our Castle, we shall certainly not -let our prisoner go, save on parole to return within two hours,” said the -baronet; “Edith, I commit the charge of our captive to you.” - -“But what if I am a warder not to be trusted?” asked Edith, with a smile; -“what if I connive at the captive’s escape?” - -“Seriously, Isa,” said Sir Digby, “you cannot think of going back so soon -to that—that damp and not very cheerful locality;” the baronet did not -know how to designate the dwelling itself by any term combining courtesy -with truth. - -“Indeed, I must return to my brother,” said Isa. - -“You will stay over Sunday, at least. I have an idea—I believe that you -like attending the service at Axe.” - -How greatly Isa enjoyed the Sundays spent with the Lestranges the baronet -knew not. The devotional spirit which breathed through the church service -was refreshing and reviving to her soul. To Mr. Eardley Isa looked up -as the most faithful of pastors and the holiest of men; she met him -not unfrequently at the Castle, and the deeper the knowledge that the -young maiden gained of the sterling qualities of his character, the -more she wondered that her eyes had ever been dazzled by unsubstantial -tinsel, and the more grateful she felt to God for having preserved her -from the effects of her own folly. Isa would probably have yielded to -the temptation to “stay over Sunday,” but for the reflections which the -story of Gideon had suggested to her mind. The grove, emblem of things -in themselves lawful and desirable, which become snares when they stand -in the way of duty, might not Isa find its counterpart in the pleasures -of Castle Lestrange? Isa thought of the throwing down of self-will, the -sacrifice of inclination, and so resisted the kind pressing of her uncle, -and the more powerful pleading of her own wishes. - -Edith ordered the carriage on the following morning to take her cousin to -Wildwaste; she would herself accompany her thither. Isa would have liked -to have asked her young companion to stay and spend the day at the Lodge, -to brighten its dulness with her society; but in Gaspar’s nervous and -irritable state, Isa feared that a visitor might annoy him, especially -on a Saturday morning, which was always given to accounts. Edith, with -instinctive delicacy, removed any difficulty on the part of her cousin, -by saying that she would not this time remain to pay her visit, but drive -on beyond Wild waste to return the call of some neighbouring family. - -“While I am at Wildwaste, however, I should like just to look into the -little school,” said Edith, as she and her cousin were driving from -Castle Lestrange. - -“I have been into it two or three times,” observed Isa,—“I mean into the -room in which Mrs. Collins teaches the girls; I have never yet ventured -amongst the boys—the young savages who look so ragged and wild.” - -“Oh! they are polished gentlemen compared to what they were when Mr. -Arthur first took them in hand; so Mrs. Holdich has told me,” laughed -Edith. “They were like a pack of wild dogs, delighting to torment and -worry every creature unfortunate enough to come within their reach, from -poor little unfledged sparrows to Mrs. Stone’s son, whom they actually -hunted into fits!” - -“And Mr. Arthur found some one to bring them into a little better order.” - -“Nay, he set about taming them himself; he used to go every morning to -play schoolmaster; the ragged little urchins thought it a grand thing to -be taught by a gentleman like him. How good does constantly come out of -what we call evil!” cried Edith. “Papa did so much dislike letting the -dear old Castle to strangers; but if he had not done so, Wildwaste would -never have had the blessing of an Arthur Madden.” - -“He must have had a kind, generous spirit,” observed Isa rather dreamily, -for every reference to the Madden family sent her thoughts back strangely -to the past. - -“A brave, noble spirit,” cried Edith; “for I have heard that he stood -so alone in his labours; instead of his family encouraging and helping -him, he was laughed at and opposed—at least by his elder brother and -sister. They would, I fancy, as soon have thought of going steadily to -work as ‘hands’ in that great soap-manufactory, amongst all the smoke -and horrible scent, as of teaching dirty, ragged little ‘roughs’ their -A B C in a shed! I cannot imagine Cora Madden touching one of the -Wildwaste children with the point of her parasol; and from what one hears -of her brother Lionel—but I am getting into evil-speaking,” said Edith -interrupting herself. “There is the pretty little school-house, which -it must have been such a pleasure to design and build. Papa says that -when Arthur Madden returns to England he will certainly ask him to pay -a visit to the Castle, for such public spirit ought to be countenanced. -But I dare say that Mr. Madden wants no praise—no honour from man—that -he serves his heavenly Master in the spirit expressed in my favourite -verses;” and in her soft, almost childish accents, Edith repeated Bonar’s -beautiful lines,— - - “Up and away like the dew of the morning, - Soaring from earth to its home in the sun; - So let me steal away gently and lovingly, - Only remembered by what I have done. - - “My name, and my place, and my tomb all forgotten, - The brief race of life well and patiently run; - So let me pass away peacefully, silently, - Only remembered by what I have done.” - -Before Edith had concluded the verses, the carriage had stopped at the -entrance to the little school-house, on the side appropriated to the -girls. - -“The hive seems to be empty,” observed Isa, as she alighted. “I thought -that work was always going on at this hour, but I hear no hum of voices -from within.” - -A feeble wail was the only audible sound. After tapping gently at -the door, Isa entered, followed by her cousin, into the neat little -school-room, which usually presented a scene of cheerful industry. Its -only occupants were, however, the schoolmistress and the babe which -she rocked in her arms. The poor woman looked haggard and pale from a -sleepless night, her face bore the stamp of anxious care, and vainly she -attempted to soothe the little sufferer, that seemed from its wasted -appearance not to have many more days to live. Mrs. Collins rose on the -entrance of the ladies, still continuing to rock her sick babe. - -“Pray do not rise, Mrs. Collins; I fear that your dear child is very -poorly,” said Isa, looking with gentle sympathy on the suffering infant. - -The schoolmistress sank down again on her seat, and drew a heavy sigh as -she answered, “The doctor thinks I shall lose her: I did not close an -eye all last night: I really could not hold the school this morning: it -is the first time that ever I sent the children away, but Mrs. Bolder -has taken charge of even my own little boys—I could not bear the noise -for poor baby.” Mrs. Collins spoke apologetically, as one who fears that -she is neglecting a duty. Isa’s expression of sympathy encouraged her to -proceed: “I am afraid that I shall have to tell the girls not to come -to-morrow: my husband cannot undertake them as well as the boys, for -neither of the rooms would hold all together.” - -[Illustration: THE VISIT TO WILDWASTE SCHOOL.] - -“Have you to teach on Sundays as well as on week-days?” asked Edith. - -“Only for an hour before morning service, and another in the afternoon, -Miss Lestrange. I’m sorry to give it up even for one Sunday, for few of -the children ever see the inside of a church; and but for the school, as -Mr. Bolder used to say, they would grow up like heathen.” Mrs. Collins -was still rocking the baby, that, to her great relief, was at length -dropping asleep in her arms. - -“Shall I come to-morrow and take your class?” asked Isa. “I have had -little experience in tuition, but I could read to the girls, teach -them hymns, and question them out of the Bible, while you sit quietly -upstairs nursing your poor little child.” - -The look of gratitude in the eyes of the anxious mother said more than -her words, as she eagerly accepted the young lady’s offer. - -“And I will see if there is not something that I can send to do the dear -baby good,” said Edith, resolved to drive back and consult Mrs. Holdich -on the subject. - -The cousins left the school-room with a pleasant consciousness that they -had lightened a heavy burden. To Isa, especially, the feeling was sweet. -What she had heard of the labours of Arthur Madden had raised the thought -in her mind, “Oh, that I could _go and do likewise_; that I too could -leave a blessing behind, and be ‘remembered by what I had done!’” At once -a door of usefulness was opened before her. Why should she not every -Sunday relieve the hard-worked schoolmistress, and let the weary mother -enjoy amidst her children what would then be a Sabbath indeed? Isa had -for a few weeks taught a Bible-class in London; she liked the work, it -gave interest to life, it took away the sense of weariness and emptiness -which will sometimes creep over the spirit even of the lovely and young. -Isa knew the task of tuition would be far lighter to her than it had -been to the young man whose example was before her: she would go where -she would be welcomed, amongst children already trained to some degree -of order: she would have no opposition or ridicule to fear; for Gaspar, -so long as she made no demands on her purse, was contented to let his -sister do very much as she pleased. That brief visit to the school-room -had to Isa changed greatly the aspect of life at Wildwaste. Her Sundays -at least would not be joyless; she was permitted to do the Lord’s work, -she might hope for His presence and blessing. She had made a sacrifice of -inclination by returning to Wildwaste, and she was beginning to see that -even in that dreary place God might give her rich cause for rejoicing. - -“Yes; I shall be happier even here, trying to please my heavenly Master, -than at Castle Lestrange, with the feeling ever arising that I am seeking -to please self alone.” - -It was this thought that made Isa Gritton bear patiently the dull -monotony of the home to which she had returned, and the wayward -fretfulness of him whose society now replaced that in which she had found -such delight. Though Gaspar’s temper was more than usually trying, not -once did a peevish tone betray irritation, not once did a frown furrow -Isa’s fair brow. For hours, on the evening after her return, Isa sat -reading aloud to her brother a work upon commercial statistics, in which -she herself took not a shadow of interest. Certainly her mind wandered -much from the book, and when at length she wearily closed it, Isa could -not have recalled a single sentence which it contained. But she had been -serving an invalid brother and not pleasing herself; and if this duty was -less attractive than that of feeding the Saviour’s lambs, it was equally -that which He had assigned her, and it was fulfilled for His sake. - -Mankind applaud great acts of munificence, costly offerings presented -like those of Solomon in open day, in the sight of all; but by far the -greater number of the sacrifices which God accepts are made, as it were, -like Gideon’s, in the night-time, in the obscurity of domestic life, -where no praise is looked for from man. There is deep truth in the -well-known lines of Keble,— - - “The trivial round, the common task, - Afford us all we ought to ask— - Room to deny ourselves, a road - To lead us daily nearer God.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XI. - -TIDINGS. - - -Early on the Saturday afternoon Lottie Stone, with her little bundle in -her hand, tripped lightly over the common towards the cottage of Holdich, -which lay embosomed within the woods of Lestrange. She was on her way -to her parent’s home, and pleasure winged her steps. There are few joys -more keen and pure than those experienced by a young girl, like Lottie, -returning to the family whom she loves, after her first absence. What -though Mrs. Stone’s dwelling-place was but a single room over a shop, -with a tiny attic chamber for her son; to Lottie there was still a charm -in the word “home,” for love and peace abode there. She clapped her hands -for joy as the open cart in which she was seated rattled down the narrow -paved street of Axe, and she caught sight of the ungainly figure of her -only brother standing before the shop. Out sprang Lottie almost before -the horse was pulled up, and in another minute she was locked in the -arms of her mother. - -How much had Lottie to tell; how fast she talked, how merrily she -laughed, as she sat at her mother’s little deal table spread with unusual -dainties—buttered muffins, and toast, and water-cresses from the stream. -The washerwoman had “cleared up and made all tidy” for the reception -of her daughter; and her son had decked the homely room with bunches -of cowslips and daffodils. Deborah’s care-worn brow seemed less deeply -wrinkled, and her thin anxious face often relaxed into a smile, as her -merry child talked over her first eventful month of service, playfully -describing what at the time of occurrence had seemed to her anything but -sources of mirth,—her own petty troubles and ignorant blunders. Lottie’s -hearers drew from her recital that Hannah was a somewhat formidable -task-mistress, that “Master” was not very easily pleased, that crockery -at the Lodge had a peculiar tendency to slip out of clumsy fingers, but -that “Miss Isa” was the kindest of mistresses, and that a smile from her -seemed to smooth every difficulty away. - -“Bless your dear heart, how your poor father would have liked to have -heard you!” exclaimed Deborah Stone, as the merry girl at length stopped -to take breath. - -For the loyal heart of the deserted wife remained true in its allegiance. -Perhaps memory had softened the past, perhaps it overleaped the years -of bitter suffering on the one side and tyranny on the other, and -Deborah only thought of her husband as what he had been in the days of -his wooing. However that might be, conjugal affection remained firm and -bright like its pledge, the circlet on the wrinkled bony finger, the sole -piece of gold which its owner possessed, and which no strain of poverty -would ever induce her to part with. When Deborah knelt down in the -evening to offer her simple little prayer with her children, very fervent -was her supplication for one absent but never forgotten: where Abner was -she knew not, what Abner was she had proved by bitter experience, but -still, “true as the needle to the pole,” the hopes and affections of the -injured woman still pointed towards her lost husband. - -Sunday was an especially happy day to Lottie, it was such a pleasure to -go to what she deemed her own church, hear her own pastor, meet again -with her own companions in the Sunday school which she used to attend. -She was only disappointed when the baronet’s carriage drew up to the -church-porch, not to see in it the bright fair face of her dear young -mistress. - -“A letter for you, mother,” said Mrs. Stone’s son, as he entered on the -Monday morning the little room in which Lottie, humming a lively air, was -helping her parent to clear away the remains of their early breakfast. As -Mrs. Stone’s receiving a letter of any kind was a quite unprecedented -occurrence, Lottie turned with some curiosity to see what the missive -could contain. It had come by a cross-country post, for her brother -pointed to the stamp-mark upon it, “Southampton.” - -“A letter for me?—why, who would write!” exclaimed Deborah, gazing with -a look rather of anxiety than of curiosity on the address, “To D. Stone, -Wildwast,” traced in a straggling, hardly legible hand, with “Try Axe” -written below by the postmaster, showing that her correspondent could -not be aware that—years ago—she had changed her abode. It was no wonder -that Deborah did not recognize that rude handwriting, as she had seen it -but once before, when, in the parish register, she had scrawled her own -signature beneath that of her newly-wedded husband. - -“O mother, do open it!” cried Lottie; “who knows whether it mayn’t bring -us news of poor father.” - -It was the same thought that had made the hand of Deborah tremble as she -had taken the letter from her son. She tore open the envelope, and with -anxious eyes glanced at the signature at the end of its enclosure. - -“It is—yes—oh! the Lord is merciful!” exclaimed the poor wife, with -something like a sob. Long experience of hardship and sorrow had so -strengthened her nature to endure, that it was very seldom that Deborah -gave any expression to outward emotion; but no one could have looked at -her at that moment and not have read in every line of her countenance -that the depths of her soul were stirred, that the few scarcely audible -words which escaped her lips came from the inmost recesses of a heart -where sorrow had so long fixed its abode, that when joy came it startled -and overpowered, like the visit of an angel. - -[Illustration: THE LETTER.] - -“Mother, read more; oh! read every word!” cried Lottie, whose only -emotions seemed those of hope and delight; while her brother looked -bewildered and scarcely able to comprehend that that piece of paper, -blotted and soiled, on which his mother’s tears were falling, actually -contained the writing of his father. - -It was some little time before the trembling, excited woman could, with -the help of her children, make out the scrawl, which read as follows:— - - ANCOR INN, SUTAMTON. - - DEAR WIFE,—I landed here last month. I bin vry ill 6 weeks; i - bin in det, an cant git away _till i pais_, so send me _five - punds_ afor thusday in a letter, or i shall git in _gret - trubel_; don’t tell no one abuit me, most of all not mister - Erdly, cause id be had up for that scrape—mind don’t tell _no - one_, but send mony _quick_; i hop to be a beter husband an - father; it was all along of the drink; so no more fum yur loving - - ABNER STONE. - -“Five pounds—how can I send him five pounds—I’ve not five shillings in -the world!” cried Deborah, glancing around her, as if to see whether any -article in that scantily furnished room could, if sold or pawned, bring -anything like such a sum, the fifth part of which she had never possessed -at one time since her marriage. - -“Five pounds!” repeated her son dreamily, as he slowly moved his fingers -one after the other, apparently to aid his dull brain in making some -mental calculation. - -“We must send, oh! we must send the money!” cried Lottie, clasping her -hands. “Dear Mr. Eardley might—” - -“I couldn’t ask him for another penny,” exclaimed Deborah, “he has done -so much already, and he has so many alooking to him; and then your -father forbids me to tell him a word.” - -“If only Mr. Arthur were in England,” sighed Lottie. - -“You earns wages,” said her brother abruptly, as if he had suddenly -lighted on some fountain of wealth. - -“My quarter’s wages won’t be due till next June,” replied Lottie. - -“Could your master do anything?” suggested Deborah; “it is said about -here that he’s rich.” - -Lottie shook her head with a very significant expression. “He may have -plenty of money,” she said slowly, “but I’m sure he don’t like to part -with it; there’s nothing to be got out of he.” - -“Here’s the baker’s cart come for you, Lottie,” cried her brother, who -had sauntered up to the window. - -Lottie hurriedly snatched up her bonnet and shawl. “I mustn’t keep him; -but oh! mother, if I could only think of any way to help father—” a loud -summons shouted from below cut her short in the middle of her sentence, -and quickened her movements. - -“Pray, child, pray; God Almighty will show us some way:” there was -scarcely time for the parting kiss and blessing; Lottie hurried down -into the street barely soon enough to prevent her impatient escort from -driving away without her. - -Very different were the feelings of the young servant girl on her drive -from Axe, from those with which, two days before, she had entered the -quaint little town. She replied at random to the jesting observations of -the baker’s boy, she seemed unable to understand the meaning of the words -that fell on her ear, for her mind was so full of conflicting emotions -that outer things could make no impression upon it. Lottie scarcely knew -whether she was happy or unhappy, whether her inclination was to laugh -or to cry. Her prayers had been answered—her lost father was found; here -indeed was joy and cause for thanksgiving: but he was ill, in debt, -needed money, and where was that money to be procured? - -“I would work my fingers to the bone!” muttered Lottie to herself, as -the cart rolled lightly along the dusty high road, “but no working would -bring more than the one pound due in June;” and thoughts of the new -boots which would then be absolutely needed would intrude on the little -maid’s mind. “I can’t go about Mr. Gritton’s house barefoot; and then he -says that I am to pay for all that I break, and, oh! the things _will_ -slip out of my hands! Would my dear young lady help me? but I must not -tell even her that I want money for my poor sick father. Shall I say -that mother’s in trouble for rent?” The honest soul of Lottie recoiled -from the artful suggestion of the Tempter, and she shook her head so -emphatically in reply to it, that the baker’s boy, who had been watching -with amusement her earnest look of thought and her moving lips, burst -out into a laugh which startled her into a consciousness that she was not -alone. - -“I say, Lottie Stone, what did you see in that thorn bush to make you -shake your head at it so fiercely?” cried the lad. - -“I was only a-thinking,” replied Lottie. - -“A penny for your thoughts,” said her companion. - -But the answer was such a heavy sigh, that the good-humoured lad saw that -the little maiden was in no mood for jesting, and as she turned her head -sorrowfully away, he left her in peace to pursue her reflections. - -It was perhaps well for Lottie that she had not much time for meditation -after her arrival at the Lodge. Hard work has served to relieve many an -anxious heart, and Hannah took care that her little assistant should have -her share, and much more than her share, of the labour of the house. -Lottie Stone had to pay by double work for her two days’ holiday at Axe. -Yet while she washed, and scrubbed, and tidied the rooms, the thoughts of -the poor young girl were constantly recurring to her father, and she was -revolving the difficult problem how it would be possible to procure five -pounds to send to her father before Thursday. - -While Lottie was laying the cloth for dinner, she could not help hearing -the conversation going on between her master and his sister, relative to -one of the children of Isa’s Sunday class. - -“I am certain that she is consumptive, and that Wildwaste is too damp -for the poor little thing. I hear that the doctor has said that her only -chance is to go to the hospital at Bournemouth.” - -“I’ve no faith in doctors,” said Gaspar, applying to his snuff-box. - -“If I myself had the means of sending her,” pursued Isa, “I would never -trouble you on the subject; but the expenses will be heavy, and my purse -is light, and—” - -“It will always be light if you go picking up every case that comes -before you. You may throw away your money if you choose, but I shall -certainly not throw away mine;” and, rising, Gaspar walked to the window, -to put an end to the conversation. - -The words which she had heard fell like cold vapour upon the heart of -Lottie. “My poor dear mistress, though she is a lady, has a light purse; -she cannot do what she wishes; she is obliged to beg her brother for -money, and he refuses to give it. Ah, there is no use in my asking help -from her! She has the will to do good, but not the power; master has -the power, but not the will. People say as how he is rich; it don’t -look like it, when he’s so angry at the candles being used so fast. I’m -sure if I were rich—;” and here the little maid’s thoughts flowed on -fast in a channel into which they had often wandered before—how much -good _she_ would do if she were rich—how much she wished that she had -plenty of money—how strange it was that some should be rolling in wealth, -while others had scarcely bread enough to satisfy hunger. There are many -through whose minds, as through Lottie’s, such a current of reflection is -wont to run; but the little servant-maid suspected that there was danger -in giving it free course. - -“I do believe that Mr. Eardley would say—could he know of what I am -thinking—that I am letting those Midianites, Discontent and Distrust, -into my foolish little heart. It do seem as if I was beginning to think -everything wrong in God’s world, ’cause I can’t do what I want for -father. If I can’t ask Miss Isa to help me, is there not One above whom -I _can_ ask, and who has both the power and the will to do me good? I -needn’t be hiding nothing from God; He knows all already. He has made -poor father give up the drink, and has brought him back to England, -and has helped him over his sickness, and now He can set him free from -his debt. I must pray very hard, and pray in faith, and _pray without -fainting_, and sure the answer will come at last.” - -And so, while she pursued her household labours, as well as when she -knelt by her bed-side at night; when the duster or the broom was in her -hand, as well as when her Bible lay open before her, the simple-minded -Lottie lifted up her heart to her Father in heaven, and found comfort and -hope in resting her cares upon Him. - -On the evening of the following day, Lottie accompanied her mistress to -the meeting at the cottage of Holdich. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XII. - -LECTURE IV.—FAITH IN TRIAL. - - -A very remarkable trial was now to test the faith of Gideon. We left him -in the proud position of the leader of an army of thirty-two thousand -men; and we can imagine how the heart of the patriot would swell with -thankfulness and joy, as the prospect of delivering his country by their -means brightened before him,—how he would welcome the arrival of each -brave band, and count up the increasing number of his forces. - -Further encouragement was given to Gideon by miraculous signs vouchsafed -to him by God in answer to prayer. “If Thou wilt save Israel by my hand -as Thou hast said, behold,” cried Gideon, “I will put a fleece of wool in -the floor; and if the dew be on the fleece only, and it be dry upon all -the earth beside, then shall I know that Thou wilt save Israel by mine -hand, as Thou hast said.” - -Early on the morrow the chieftain arose, and sought the fleece where he -had laid it. He found it heavy with moisture, though the ground lay dry -around it; and Gideon wrung out from the dripping wool a bowlful of water. - -Yet Gideon ventured to beseech God to grant a reversal of this miraculous -sign, in further confirmation of his faith: “Let not Thine anger be hot -against me, and I will speak but this once: let me prove, I pray Thee, -but this once with the fleece. Let it now be dry only upon the fleece, -and upon all the ground let there be dew.” - -Even as Gideon had prayed, so was the sign vouchsafed; the soft dew lay -on the earth around, while the fleece remained dry. - -It has been remarked that in the fleece of Gideon we may see not only a -sign, but also a type of Israel, the chosen people of God. The living -water of divine truth, the dew of a peculiar blessing, rested upon -the children of Abraham when the rest of the world was as a dry and -thirsty land. Now—alas for those who rejected, who still reject their -Messiah!—the sign is reversed. As a dry fleece the Jews remain in the -midst of Christian nations, a marvel to the world; the dew which falls -so richly around them rests not on them as a people. Oh, may God hasten -the time when the Jews also shall receive the water of life; when they -_shall look on Him whom they pierced_; and when God shall make use of -them as His chosen instruments for the conversion of the heathen! Looking -forward to that blessed time, St. Paul—himself a Jew—exclaims, _What -shall the receiving of them be but life from the dead?_ Let us pray then, -my brethren, for the dew of grace to fall upon the dry fleece, that -Jerusalem, the city of the great King, may once more become the joy of -the earth. - -Gideon, strengthened by signs from heaven, and surrounded by the hosts -of Israel, might now fearlessly and confidently await the conflict with -Midian; but he was not only to do God’s work, but to do it in God’s -appointed way. _Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the -Lord of hosts._ The Lord thus spake unto Gideon: “The people that are -with thee are too many for Me to give the Midianites into their hands, -lest Israel vaunt themselves against Me, saying, Mine own hand hath saved -me. Now, therefore, go to, proclaim in the ears of the people, saying, -Whosoever is fearful and afraid, let him return and depart early from -Mount Gilead.” - -In making such proclamation, Gideon was obeying a command given through -Moses (Deut. xx. 8), though it is possible that he might have omitted to -do so without the special direction from above. Startling was the effect -of the proclamation, and it needed strong faith in Gideon not to falter -when the force of Israel began to melt away like a snow-ball, till more -than two-thirds of the whole number had deserted the camp. Truly many had -been called, but few were chosen. Where were those who had so readily -obeyed the call of the trumpet, and quitted their homes for the field of -war? Of how many might it be said, _Being harnessed and carrying bows, -they turned back in the day of battle._ They were not to share the glory; -they had faltered in the moment of trial. Oh, brethren, may it never be -so with us! May _the fear of man_, which _bringeth a snare_, never make -us shrink back from the duty before us. What must have been the shame of -those who had come to the gathering of the hosts of Israel, and who had -then departed without striking one blow, when the rocks and mountains -rang with the shouts of their conquering brethren, and the victory in -which they might once have shared was won without them! _No man having -put his hand to the plough_ (or, to the sword), _and looking back, is fit -for the kingdom of heaven._ - -The force under Gideon had now dwindled from thirty-two thousand to ten -thousand men. Human wisdom would have deemed these all too few to oppose -the multitudes of Midian encamped in the valley before them; but not so -judged the God of hosts. The Lord said unto Gideon, “The people are yet -too many; bring them down unto the water, and I will try them for thee -there: and it shall be, that of whom I say unto thee, This shall go with -thee, the same shall go with thee; and of whomsoever I say unto thee, -This shall not go with thee, the same shall not go.” - -Gideon, in obedience to the command, brought down his forces unto the -water, leaving the selection of the chosen band of heroes unto Him who -readeth the thoughts of the heart. Doubtless the Israelites were thirsty -from their long march in the heat of that sultry clime; by far the -greater number threw themselves on their knees by the water, stooping -down eagerly to drink; three hundred only lapped from their hands the -cooling draught. And the Lord said unto Gideon, “By the three hundred men -that lapped will I save you, and deliver the Midianites into thine hand; -and let all the other people go every man unto his place.” - -[Illustration: GIDEON’S ARMY DRINKING AT THE BROOK.] - -Mysterious command, and yet was it instantly obeyed. Gideon dismissed the -greater part of his forces, not to their homes, but to their tents. They -had yet their appointed part to take; they would complete the victory; -they would follow up the pursuit. It is not given to all to be foremost -in peril or in fame. Some are called to do great things, to suffer great -things for God; others have a humbler part to perform: they have to -follow up the successes of their brethren; not to shine conspicuously -as Christian heroes, but to do their duty steadily as Christian men. It -is very possible that some bold spirits amongst Gideon’s ten thousand -may have been tempted to repine at being excluded from the glorious -privilege of those who were to bear the brunt, and win the highest -renown. And now the zealous servant of Christ, kept back by sickness or -some other dispensation from active usefulness for his Lord, finds it -hard to realize the truth, “They also serve who only stand and wait.” -He fain would be in the scene of action; he fain would join in the -glorious strife. Must he look on while others labour? must he stand -still while others fight? My brethren, the place which our great Leader -assigns to us is the right place, however humbling it may be to our -pride. The submission of those who retired to their tents may have been -as acceptable to God as the courage of those who remained to perform the -perilous duty before them. - -The truth which is especially brought to our notice in this remarkable -portion of the story of Gideon, is the necessity that God should be -given the glory of every high and holy work which He enables His people -to perform. Israel was not to say, “Mine own hand hath saved me.” Weak -instruments were purposely chosen, that the honour of success might -pertain unto God, and not man. And how often has the same lesson been -taught in the history of the Church! Not the mighty, not the noble or the -learned were appointed at the first to proclaim the gospel of salvation. -When the lowly and illiterate, when fishermen from Galilee were chosen -as leaders of the hosts of the Lord, who could not but own that their -success was due to the power of the Spirit? It is right that we should -employ all lawful means to further God’s work, but let us beware that we -rest not in means; let us especially beware that we use no means that are -not sanctified by His blessing. Had the ten thousand valiant men been led -forward by Gideon against the foe, what would their number, what would -their courage, what would their zeal have availed? Doubtless shameful -defeat would have followed presumptuous self-confidence, and he who had -rested on an arm of flesh have found that he had leaned on a broken reed. - -Christians are now not unfrequently placed in a position which may remind -us of that of Gideon, when he found his forces melting away in the face -of a formidable foe. In the midst of active labours for God, one is -smitten down by sickness, his work is still to be done—the power to do -it seems taken away. Another, active in works of charity, suddenly loses -the means of which he has made such liberal use, his resources dwindle -like the army of Gideon, and he is tempted to cry, “O Lord, wherefore -hast Thou crippled my usefulness? what I had, was it not devoted to Thy -service?” My brethren, if the blessing of God be left behind, we may rest -trustfully in the assurance that He will care for His own work. He can -make a few victorious over the many. His blessing on a cruse of oil and -a handful of meal made them a surer source of supply than the granaries -of the wealthy. God hath not forsaken, He would only humble and prove His -servants, and teach them through trials of faith to look for success only -to Him. - -Were it not for our past experience that flowers must fade to make -way for fruit, how sad would be the sight of the fading blossoms on a -tree—the petals strewed in the dust, their brilliant beauty departed! -But we know that what is more precious is left behind; that on the bough -remains the green germ of the fruit which shall renew the beauty of the -tree, and give to it a value beyond what it possessed in the smiling days -of spring. So see we faith in trial. Outward advantages may be taken -away, sweet hopes may fall and wither, but if the fruit-tree be thriving -and deep-rooted, harvest glory is yet to come. Job—stripped of property, -children, health—might lament the day of his birth, and believe that his -season of active usefulness was departed for ever; but through his very -trials and losses he passed to greater glory and joy, and has become a -fruitful source of blessing to the Church of God through many generations. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XIII. - -A PROMISE. - - -“I am sure that Mr. Eardley was thinking of Mr. Arthur Madden this -evening when he spoke of active labourers for God being smitten down by -sickness,” observed Rebekah Holdich to her husband, after the little -congregation had dispersed from the cottage. - -“Mr. Arthur—I hope there’s nothing the matter with him!” said Holdich, -with a look of concern on his manly countenance. “The last news was that -he had been ordained at Jerusalem.” - -“But I grieve to say that worse tidings came this morning to Mr. Eardley -in a letter from Mr. Arthur’s youngest sister, who has been nursing him -in a dangerous illness. The doctors say that the climate does not agree -with his health; he was ordered to England directly—he and his sister -were to start by the very next steamer.” - -“It will be a real pleasure to see them again,” observed Holdich. He was -a man rather of deeds than words, so the simple sentence expressed a -great deal more than it would have done from the lips of another. - -“But Mr. Arthur may never arrive, he may sink by the way,” faltered -Rebekah, who was of a disposition naturally tender, and not very hopeful. - -“Wife, he is in God’s hands,” said Holdich; “sick or well, on sea or on -land—he will be given what is best for him.” - -“Ah,” thought Rebekah, “my husband is always one to see behind the fading -blossoms the germ of the fruit. His is a faith that can bear wind and -storm; he can trust not only himself, but (what I find so much harder to -do) those whom he loves, to his God.” - -Mrs. Bolder, as usual, carried back to her suffering husband an account -of the cottage-lecture. - -“There’s a word of comfort for me,” observed Bolder; “maybe I’m like -one of these nine thousand seven hundred Israelites sent back to their -tents. They were not to be trusted to gain the victory, lest they should -boast that their own strength had won it. God kept them in the background -to keep them humble; but they were not rejected—no! Nor is many a poor -sinner like me, though shut up from active work—we shall yet be allowed -to join in the shout, _Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory through -our Lord Jesus Christ._” - -Lottie Stone had returned to the Lodge that evening with a very heavy -heart. Her mind was far less occupied with the lecture than with the -tidings which she had heard of the dangerous illness of one of her -earliest benefactors. Already perplexed and distressed as she was on -account of her father, this new trouble had come on the little maid as a -shock. The words in which Mrs. Bolder had communicated the news to her, -“Have you heard that Mr. Arthur Madden is dying at Jerusalem?” had struck -like a knell on her heart. Already that young tender heart was bleeding -from home anxieties and troubles of which Lottie could not speak even to -the kind mistress for whose counsel and sympathy she yearned, and now -this second blow seemed almost crushing. Her father in difficulties, -out of which she could not help him, returning after the absence of -years to his country, but sick, tied down by debt, unable to reach those -who loved him; and now the generous friend of the family dying in a -far-distant land—thoughts of all this were a most oppressive burden of -sorrow to Lottie. Her mind was so full of its troubles that she was more -than usually awkward and inattentive in service. She was unpunctual in -bringing in tea, the milk-jug was empty, the plates forgotten, the water -had never been boiling. Isa was a little displeased, Mr. Gritton was -angry, and his peevish chiding increased the confusion of poor Lottie -Stone. In her nervous haste in removing the tea-tray she knocked over a -letter-weigher which had lain upon Gaspar’s table. It fell with a clatter -which made the invalid start, and the various weights were scattered -hither and thither, some on the boards, some on the piece of brown -drugget which covered the centre of the apartment. - -“The girl must have been drinking!” exclaimed Gaspar angrily, while poor -Lottie went down on her knees to gather up the weights. Isa, pitying her -confusion, said, in order to draw away the attention of Gaspar, “I have -not yet told you of Edith’s kindness; she has promised to send my poor -consumptive girl to Bournemouth.” - -“I feel no interest in the matter,” replied Mr. Gritton; “I wish that, -instead of hunting up cases outside the house, you would manage to keep a -little better order within it.” - -Lottie rose from her knees after her search, and timidly placed the -weigher on the mantel-piece. She had recovered all the weights belonging -to it but one, the smallest of the set, and that, in the dim light thrown -by the solitary candle on the table, she had not been able to find. -Lottie was nervously afraid lest her master should examine the small -machine and find it imperfect. - -“I will hunt for the little round thing in the morning, when no one is -watching me,” thought Lottie, “and I’ll never rest then till I find -it.” The letter-weigher was the only elegant article which Gaspar’s -study contained; it had been a birth-day gift from his sister, and had -particularly attracted the admiration of Lottie, who, in her simplicity, -had taken the gilded ornament for gold. The loss of the little weight was -to the young maid a sensible addition to her heavier troubles. - -“If I can’t find that little gold bit, what on earth shall I do?” thought -Lottie, with the fear before her mind of having to replace an article of -value unknown; “I dare say that it is worth half a sovereign, and master -may say that the whole thing is spoiled by its loss. How shall I ever -pay for it out of my wages, and just at a time when I would do anything -to win more money for father? I’ll get up early, so early to-morrow, and -search every cranny in that room before any one else is about in the -house.” - -Lottie Stone could hardly sleep that night from the many anxious thoughts -which haunted her brain. She arose before dawn to hunt for the weight, -crept out of her little chamber, and softly descended the stairs to the -study. She opened the shutters, but the stars were glimmering yet in -the deep blue sky, there was not sufficient light for her need. Lottie -lighted a candle and began her search, under the table, the chairs, the -fender, in every likely and unlikely place she hunted, but “the little -gold bit” was not to be found. - -“I’ll move the table right to the wall, and pull up the drugget, maybe -it has rolled under there,” said Lottie to herself, exerting all her -strength to move the deal table, with Gaspar’s heavy desk upon it, to the -other side of the room. - -To draw up the drugget was an easier task, and scarcely had it been -removed when, stuck between two of the boards which had been covered by -the cloth, Lottie to her great relief caught sight of the bright little -weight. - -She ran up to the spot, and tried to pick up the weight, but a foot had -trodden on it and pressed it in firmly. Lottie pulled harder, and to her -extreme surprise found that in moving the weight she also moved one of -the planks between which it was jammed, while a previously imperceptible -line crossed the breadth of three of them. Accident had discovered to -Lottie a most carefully concealed trap-door in the floor, in the spot -which was usually covered both by the drugget and the table. With some -little trouble Lottie managed to raise it, and with wondering curiosity -she peered down, still on her knees, into the dark vault below, into -which there was a means of descent by a ladder. Stories that had been -current in the hamlet then recurred to the mind of Lottie, stories of -the caution and mystery used in the building of Wildwaste Lodge. She -had never heard that there were cellars beneath it, and a concealed -trap-door would be a strange kind of opening into one intended to contain -only wine. As Lottie bent over the dark recess, candle in hand, the -little gilded weight which she had recovered slipped from her hold, and -fell down into the vault below. It was needful again to search for it, -and perhaps the young girl was not sorry for an excuse to explore a -little further. Slowly and softly Lottie descended the ladder, carrying -the candle in her hand. When she had reached the bottom, she found -herself in a brick-built vault; the air felt damp and chill, moisture -stains gleamed faintly on the walls. On the further side was a door, -close to which the little weight had rolled. Lottie went and picked it -up, and then pressed her hand against the door; it was not locked, but -slightly ajar, and yielded to her pressure. Lottie could not resist the -temptation of entering the inner vault. It had brick walls and floor -like the first, but was not, like the first, perfectly empty. There -were low shelves, on which was ranged all the family plate which Mr. -Gritton had inherited from his father, silver candlesticks, salvers, and -tureens, with curious old coins in cases, all looking dull and tarnished. -There were also yellow canvas bags ranged in order. Lottie put down her -candle, and, by a strong impulse of curiosity, raised one: it was very -heavy in proportion to its size; she loosened the string round the mouth -and glanced in—it was full of golden sovereigns! The black eyes of -Lottie dilated—she could scarcely breathe—the hand which held the canvas -bag trembled. The foolish young daughter of Eve had by her indiscreet -curiosity put herself into a position of sore temptation, she had given -the Enemy an advantage; he who had dared to breathe his deadly whisper in -Eden, was present to tempt in that dark deep vault. - -“What a world of wealth is buried here, wealth useless to its owner, -useless to all the world! A few yellow pieces from one of those canvas -bags would never be missed, while they would bring help to a long-lost -father, bring him back to his home, fill the heart of a mother with -delight.” Nay, even the impious suggestion followed: “This discovery has -not been made by chance. Providence has guided you here to give you the -means of helping your parents in the time of their greatest need.” - -Well was it then for the tempted girl that prayer had become so habitual -that she intuitively turned to her God for guidance, as a child might -turn to a parent. Then her pastor’s words recurred to her memory, “Let -us especially beware that we use no means that are not sanctified by -God’s blessing.” It was Lottie’s duty, indeed, to make every effort for -her parents, but God’s work must be only done in God’s way. His blessing -could not rest on ill-gotten gold, and without that blessing what could -come but misery and shame? Lottie’s faith was in trial; she was called -on to abstain from following the only course by which it seemed possible -for her to rescue her father. It was not by low covetousness, but by the -strong warm affections of the heart that the Tempter was seeking to draw -the simple child into guilt. It was a short, a painful struggle, and then -faith rose victorious. “Oh, no! how can I do this thing, and sin against -God!” exclaimed Lottie aloud, and not trusting herself to look again at -the bags of treasure, she turned suddenly round—and confronted her master! - -Lottie started violently at the unexpected meeting with Gaspar; she then -stood as if spell-bound, with her black eyes rivetted on his; she seemed -to have no power to withdraw them, no power to utter another word. The -sight of Mr. Gritton’s sallow, shrunken countenance, looking to her -corpse-like in that dimly-lighted vault, exercised on the girl a kind of -fascination, such as that which is attributed to the serpent’s gaze. - -[Illustration: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.] - -Gaspar had been roused from sleep by the sounds made by Lottie in the -search for the gilded weight. He never enjoyed the deep refreshing -slumber of a mind at rest; the miser was haunted by the fears that are -natural to one whose treasure is on earth, where thieves may break -through and steal. Alarmed by the noise which he heard at an hour so -unusually early, Gaspar had risen and partially dressed, his anxiety -being increased by the recollection that he had forgotten to lock the -door of the inner vault when last he had visited it, as he frequently -did, in the night-time. It was an infirmity of Gaspar, perhaps -originating in the shock caused to him by the loss of the _Orissa_, to -feel that his money was never so safe as when immediately under his eye; -it was a satisfaction to the slave of Mammon to sleep over his buried -treasure. Mr. Gritton was, however, nervously sensitive to the danger -of keeping large sums of money in an unguarded dwelling, especially in -such a lawless neighbourhood as that of Wildwaste. He must hide from all -the knowledge of the existence of hoards which would tempt the burglar. -With this view Gaspar had caused vaults to be constructed with a special -view to concealment: no one in Wildwaste knew of their existence. Mr. -Gritton did what he could to appear before men as a gentleman of very -narrow means; and though he had not succeeded in this, he had until now -perfectly preserved the secret of a treasure kept under his house. - -It was with annoyance and alarm that Gaspar now found his secret -discovered. He could not doubt the honesty of Lottie, whose words he had -just overheard; he was relieved to find that his vault had been entered -by no more formidable intruder; but he anxiously revolved the means -of preventing the discovery from spreading further, and stood sternly -regarding the trembling girl for what appeared to her a fearfully long -time. - -“You have taken nothing?” he asked at length; to Lottie his voice sounded -hollow and terrible, breaking the painful silence. - -“Oh, no, sir—you can search me—I never thought—;” the girl checked -herself in the midst of her sentence—“no, I mustn’t say that, for I was -tempted; but it was for my father.” - -“I never heard that you had a father living,” said Gaspar. - -“He is living, and in great distress, at Southampton.” - -“Hear me, girl,” said the master sternly. “I believe—I know that you -are honest, but I have no means of knowing that you are discreet; after -what has happened I cannot suffer you to stay for one hour longer in -this house.” Seeing that Lottie looked aghast at this summary dismissal, -Gaspar added more gently, “I am going to exact from you a most solemn -promise that you will never utter to any being a word of what you have -seen this day, or of the cause of your being thus hastily dismissed from -my service.” - -“I must tell my mother,” faltered Lottie, “or she will think that I have -done something wrong; I never hide nothing from her.” - -“You must not tell your mother, nor your lady, nor any one,” said Gaspar. -“I will make it worth your while to keep silence.” - -“I don’t think that I could keep it,” said poor Lottie. - -Mr. Gritton laid his hand on one of the canvas bags, unloosed it, and -took out five pieces of gold. “See here, Lottie Stone,” he said sternly; -“if you will not make a solemn promise to tell no one, I will at once -give you up to justice as a person found lurking, at a strange hour and -under suspicious circumstances, in a place where treasure is kept.” He -marked that Lottie’s rosy cheek blanched at the threat, and went on, “If -you will pledge yourself to the strictest secrecy, you shall take home -these five golden sovereigns; and if in the course of a year I find that -nothing has transpired either of the cause of your leaving, or of the -existence of these vaults, I will give you five sovereigns more.” - -A flash of joy beamed on the countenance of Lottie. So intense was her -desire to possess the very sum which her master offered to place in her -hands, that to obtain it she would have been ready to sacrifice anything -but her conscience. - -“O sir!” she exclaimed, “I will—I do promise. I will never say one word -about this place, or what I have seen, or why you send me away—I will -rather die than speak!” - -“You promise before God?” said Gaspar solemnly, before he placed the -money in the hand of the excited girl. - -“I do, I do!” exclaimed Lottie, and her fingers closed over the gold. She -felt that she had saved her father. - -“Now go up, pack your bundle, and be off,” said Gaspar; “and never set -foot in Wildwaste again; and remember that guilt lies on your soul if you -keep not your promise to the letter.” - -“May I not stay till I can bid good-bye to dear Miss Isa?” pleaded Lottie. - -“You may not stay an hour; I do not choose that you should see her; -take your money and your clothes and be gone. Leave the candle; I will -stay behind to make sure that all is right—and to lock the door,” added -Gritton, under his breath; “I will not neglect that precaution again.” - -Lottie, tightly grasping her dearly-won treasure, mounted the ladder, -and re-entered the study through the trap-door. She hastily replaced the -little weight on its gilded stand, and then ran upstairs to make her -brief preparations for quitting Wildwaste for ever. Lottie soon put up -her bundle, for her earthly possessions were few, and with it in her hand -descended the staircase. Tears gushed from her eyes as she reached the -door of Isa’s chamber; Lottie could not help lingering there for a minute -to breathe a prayer for the young mistress so dearly beloved. “Oh! shall -I never serve her again, never listen to her sweet kind voice, never comb -out her long soft hair! What will she say of me, what will she think of -me—will she not call me the most ungrateful girl in the world?” Lottie’s -heart swelled at the idea, and it was with a low stifled sob that she -turned away from the door. - -She found her master in the hall, himself unfastening the bolts of the -outer door. Mr. Gritton was impatient to have the girl out of the house, -and beyond the temptation of communicating with any one in the hamlet. - -“Your father is in Southampton—you had better join him there,” observed -Gaspar. “Remember your solemn promise of silence made in the sight of -Heaven.” - -Lottie turned as she crossed the threshold, “O sir—pray—at least—let my -dear mistress know that—” - -Gaspar would not listen, he closed the door in her face, and Lottie -found herself alone with her bundle and her gold in the chill crisp air -of early morning. A dim line of red in the east showed where the sun -would shortly rise, but as Lottie hastened through the hamlet there was -not the sound of a human voice to break the stillness; Wildwaste was -still asleep; in the great manufactory the busy hum of labour had not -yet begun. But on the common, where the night dews lay heavy on fern and -furze-bush, the lark, an early riser, was already mounting on quivering -wing, and pouring out his song of joy to greet the advancing morn. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XIV. - -SUSPICIONS. - - -Lottie had proceeded more than half of her way to Axe before her mind -could realize her strange position, and the difficulties in which it must -involve her. Her first thought had been of her father, her next of her -young mistress; but every step that Lottie now took seemed to open to her -a new complication of troubles. She had lost her place, and how could -she expect to find a new one while she was utterly unable to explain why -she had so suddenly left the last? What should she say to Mr. Eardley, -who had taken such fatherly care to provide for her welfare? Poor Lottie -became so utterly perplexed by her troubles, her first secret weighed -on her frank honest nature as such an intolerable chain, that she could -hardly think of physical weariness or discomfort, though the distance to -Axe was long to be traversed by a fasting girl; and ere Lottie came in -sight of the quaint little town, a shower which wet her clothes through -and through. - -The world was beginning to show signs of being astir as Lottie entered -the High Street of Axe; tradesmen’s boys were taking down their shutters, -the milkmaid was passing with her pails; the rain had ceased, and the -clear morning sun was gleaming on the windows of the houses. - -“Why, Lottie Stone, what ever brings you here at this ’ere hour of the -day?” exclaimed Mrs. Green, the cobbler’s stout wife, over whose little -shop Deborah had her lodging. - -Lottie muttered something, she knew not what, as she hurried through the -shop. She ran up the steep dark staircase, and entered the room of her -mother, whom she found in bonnet and shawl, with an old carpet-bag in -her hand, as if about to set out on a journey. Deborah started at the -unexpected entrance of her daughter, all wet with the rain, and flushed -with excitement and the fatigue of a long, weary walk. - -“O mother, here, here’s for father!” exclaimed Lottie, eagerly holding -out the five sovereigns which Mr. Gritton had given her. - -“It is from God!” cried Deborah; “He has sent it—praise be to His -goodness! Lottie, I’ve scarce a minute to tell you of it, for I must be -off to catch the train, but I’m a-going to Southampton myself.” - -“To Southampton!” echoed Lottie in surprise. - -“Yes; there was another letter yesterday, not from my poor Abner, -but from his landlord: your father’s worse again—very ill; I’ve been -a-borrowing, and begging, and scraping, and I’ve just got money enough -for the journey; but these here five pounds have come as a blessing from -Heaven! Mrs. Green has promised to do the ironing, and to tidy up things -while I’m away—” - -“She need do nothing; I’m here, I’ve left my place,” said Lottie. - -“Left your place!” exclaimed Deborah, dropping on the table the five gold -pieces which her daughter had brought. - -“Left your place!” repeated Mrs. Green, who had followed Lottie up the -stairs, and who now turned a very inquisitive look on the money which had -so unexpectedly and unaccountably been added to her neighbour’s little -store. - -Mrs. Stone had no time for questioning, though Lottie’s few words had -laid a fresh burden of care on her grief-worn spirit. On Mrs. Green’s -informing her that “she’d better be off sharp, or she’d miss the train,” -Deborah caught up her money and her carpet-bag, bade a hurried good-bye -to her daughter and her son, and hastened off to the station. Mrs. Green -remained in the little room, determined, as she said to herself, “to get -to the bottom of the business.” - -“I say, Lottie,” she observed to the weary girl, who was taking off her -wet bonnet and cloak, “was it you as brought them ’ere sovereigns to your -mother?” - -“Yes,” said the unsuspicious Lottie, wishing heartily that the stout -landlady would go and leave her to rest and collect her thoughts. - -“You’ve hardly earned ’em yet as wages, I take it.” The shrewd, sharp, -questioning look of the woman put the young girl on her guard. - -“How did you manage to get them, eh?” pursued Mrs. Green, peering into -the face of Lottie with an expression of suspicion which covered that -face in a moment with a scarlet flush of indignation. - -“I can’t tell you—what is it to you?—I got them honestly, you may be sure -of that,” stammered forth Lottie, as she pushed back the black hair from -her heated cheeks. - -“Did your master give ’em to you? he’s not the kind of man for that sort -of thing, or the world does him injustice.” - -“Mrs. Green, would you be so kind as to leave us for a little,” said -Lottie desperately; “I am very, very, very tired, and—;” she knew not how -to finish her sentence. - -The cobbler’s wife did not seem in the least inclined to go. She shook -her head gravely, looked hard at the girl, and then shook her head again. -“Better be open at once, Lottie Stone, you know I’m your friend; I know -all about your father, poor man! If you’ve been a bit tempted, and—” - -[Illustration: LOTTIE AND MRS. GREEN.] - -“The money is honestly mine—every penny of it—how dare you say such -things?” exclaimed the indignant girl. - -“Well, then, you’ve only to tell the simple truth how you came by it; -there’s nothing to flare up about,” said Mrs. Green, putting her stout -arms akimbo. - -“I’m not going to tell nothing; I want to be left quiet,” cried Lottie, -who felt much inclined to burst into a passion of tears; while her simple -brother looked on in surprise, rubbing his shock of hair, as he was wont -to do when perplexed. - -A third time Mrs. Green shook her head; solemnly, ominously she shook -it. “Well,” she muttered, “if girls will behave like that, after all the -schooling, and praying, and preaching, and—;” the rest of the observation -was unheard by the Stones, as their landlady had left the room as she -uttered it, slamming the door behind her. Lottie knew by her manner that -the cobbler’s wife was offended; and was convinced that within an hour -the story of the five sovereigns would be spread all over Axe, as was -already that of Abner’s arrival at Southampton, Deborah, in her efforts -to procure money for her journey, having found it impossible to obey her -husband’s injunction of secrecy. - -“Lottie, how _did_ you get all that money?” asked her brother, as soon as -Mrs. Green’s heavy clumping step was heard descending the stair. - -“Oh, don’t you be a-worritting me too, Steady!” exclaimed Lottie, calling -the lad by a name which Arthur Madden had given to him in the class, and -which had clung to him, from its appropriateness, till it had almost -superseded his own. - -Steady was not wont to “worrit” any one, and least of all the sister -to whose brighter intelligence he had habitually looked up through his -clouded boyhood, and whom he heartily loved. He was easily silenced, but -not easily relieved. He sat down by the casement to his usual occupation -of cutting pegs, but ever and anon a heavy sigh came from the poor -youth’s breast. - -“You’re troubled about father?” asked Lottie, who was laying out the -rough-dried linen which she was about to iron for her mother. - -“I warn’t a-thinking of father, but of that money,” replied the lad, in -his slow, measured drawl: he had difficulty in putting even the most -simple thought into words. - -“Steady, surely _you_ know me, _you_ can trust me!” cried Lottie, with a -swelling heart. - -“I does trust you,” said the lad emphatically, “but other folk won’t;” -and with another sigh he relapsed into silence. - -Very sadly Lottie pursued her occupation of ironing. “Oh,” thought she, -“I wish that I could smooth away all these difficulties, as I press -down the creases out of this linen! Father ill—Mr. Arthur dying—mother -away—and then this dreadful, dreadful promise! Oh, that I never had made -it!” - -“Here’s Mr. Eardley a-coming,” said young Stone, looking out of the -window. - -For the first time the sound of her pastor’s name was unwelcome to -Lottie, for the first time in her life she dreaded an interview with -the clergyman. What could she say to him, how explain to him what must -appear so mysterious and strange? - -Mr. Eardley crossed the road, and did not, as Lottie earnestly hoped, -pass the door of the cobbler’s shop. She heard his foot on the stair, his -tap at the door of the room. Lottie laid down her iron, courtesied on -the entrance of the clergyman, and remained with her eyes fixed on the -ground, her fingers nervously twitching the linen which lay on the table -beside her. She was not sufficiently collected to think of offering her -pastor a chair. - -“Lottie, I am sorry to hear that you have left your place,” said Mr. -Eardley. “You seemed to be so happy and contented when I spoke to you -last Sunday, that I hoped that you would remain for many years at the -Lodge, and become in time a valuable servant.” Mr. Eardley’s address was -fatherly and kind, but Lottie’s only reply was in the big tears which -rolled slowly down her flushed cheeks. - -“Come, my child, speak frankly to one who has your true welfare at heart. -Did you displease your lady? or had you some little difference with your -fellow-servant?” - -Mr. Eardley paused for an answer, but no answer came. - -“O Lottie, speak out!” cried her brother, who had a child-like faith in -the wisdom as well as the kindness of their pastor. - -Mr. Eardley was both perplexed and distressed by the strange reserve -shown by one whose disposition he had hitherto found clear as daylight. -He had heard in an exaggerated form the story of the money which Lottie -had brought from Wildwaste, and very painful suspicions began to arise -in his mind. Yet the clergyman shrank at first from saying a word that -might appear like a charge of dishonesty against one whose character had -hitherto been without a stain. - -“What did your lady say to your leaving her?” - -“Nothing,” was trembling upon the lips of the girl, but Lottie pressed -them together, and kept silent. She was aware that if by answering -questions she were led into telling anything, she would gradually be -drawn into telling all; it was only by preserving silence that she could -possibly preserve the secret which she had solemnly promised to keep. - -“Lottie, why don’t you speak?” cried Steady in real distress. - -“Miss Gritton appears to be so gentle and kind,” pursued the clergyman. - -“She’s an angel! I’d die for her!” interrupted Lottie, fairly breaking -down, and bursting into a fit of loud sobbing. - -“Do you not think that, if you have displeased her, she might be -persuaded to overlook a fault, and take you back?” suggested Mr. Eardley, -glad that at least the girl’s obstinate silence was broken. - -“I can’t go back!” sobbed Lottie. - -“And wherefore not?” inquired Mr. Eardley. - -“Lottie, do, do speak,” pleaded her brother. - -The poor girl was in bitter distress. A false idea of honour has led many -a duellist to face the fire of an enemy, but never did the most nervous -spirit more shrink from such an ordeal than did that of the little -servant-maid from that which she now had to pass through. Influenced by -the highest sense of honour—conscientious respect for a promise—Lottie -stood the mark of questions, each of which seemed to strike her in the -tenderest part. She had more than filial reverence for her pastor: to -stand well in his favour, to do credit to his care, had been one of the -highest objects of her ambition; to grieve, displease, disappoint him, -was misery to which she could hardly have believed it possible that she -should ever be exposed. Mr. Eardley, on his part, found the interview -very painful. He had regarded Lottie Stone as one of the most promising -girls under his pastoral charge; she was so simple-minded, affectionate, -and pious; he could have trusted her with money uncounted; were she to -prove ungrateful and unworthy, in whom could he henceforth trust? The -clergyman was very patient and tender, but he was also very faithful. -For more than an hour he stood in that little room, plying the silent, -miserable girl with questions that put her to the torture, appealing -to her reason, her affections, her conscience; exhorting, reproving, -entreating—doing all that lay in his power to overcome her inexplicable -reserve. Mr Eardley saw that Lottie’s character, that most precious -of earthly possessions, was at stake; that if she continued silent, a -merciless world would believe the worst. He explained this again and -again; and Lottie, in anguish of soul, felt how true was every word -which he uttered. And yet, had she not promised before God? was it not -better to endure suspicions than to incur sin? Not all the efforts of her -pastor, backed by the entreaties of her simple-hearted brother, could -force the poor girl from the position to which conscience had fastened -her, like a baited creature fixed to the stake. - -At length, disappointed and disheartened, Mr. Eardley took his leave, -promising, however, soon to return. Lottie wrung her hands in silent -misery as she heard the door close behind him. “There,” she thought, -“goes the kindest, most generous of friends, wearied out at last, and -thinking me an ungrateful and wicked girl. Oh, I could have borne -anything better than this!” - -Lottie was not to have even a breathing-space of relief. Not five minutes -after the departure of Mr. Eardley, the baronet’s carriage drove up to -the door of the cobbler’s shop, with Isa and her cousin within. Its -approach was announced to Lottie by her brother’s exclamation, “Here -comes your mistress a-looking arter ye now!” - -“I think all this will drive me mad!” cried Lottie, pressing both her -hands to her burning temples. - -Isa had been much surprised, and even alarmed, on being informed by -Hannah at an early hour that morning that “that there girl Lottie” had -“run away without saying a word to nobody; taken her bundle, and gone -clean off.” Isa could in no way account for the sudden departure of -her young servant, except by imagining that she had taken offence at -something, and that perhaps something wild and gipsy-like in her nature -corresponded with her somewhat gipsy-like appearance. - -“To go without saying a word to me, kind and indulgent as I ever have -been, seems so strange, so ungrateful,” observed Isa to her brother, when -she mentioned to him at breakfast a fact of which he had had much earlier -notice than herself. - -“No accounting for the vagaries of a raw, untutored village rustic,” -observed Gaspar, applying to his snuff-box; and he was ungenerous enough -to add, in order to cover his own confusion, “You had better count up the -spoons.” - -“I could answer for Lottie’s honesty,” said Isa. - -So could Gaspar Gritton, for he had seen it put to the proof; he had seen -the “raw, untutored village rustic” withstand a temptation under which -he, an educated man, calling himself a gentleman, had basely succumbed. -But Gaspar felt himself placed in a position of difficulty. He would -probably have at once told his sister all the circumstances connected -with Lottie’s dismissal, had it not been for Isa’s having spoken to him -on the subject of the _Orissa_. Gaspar shrank from avowing to one who, -as he knew, suspected _his_ honesty, that he actually had a large sum of -money concealed in a vault. - -“What could have induced the girl to take such a step?” said Isa, -following the current of her own thoughts. “Hannah is as much in the dark -as ourselves.” - -“Really,” observed Gaspar peevishly, “the subject is not worth the -trouble of considering. Such an insignificant cipher may go, or stay, or -hang herself; it matters not the turn of a straw to us.” - -A feeling of indignation swelled the heart of Isa, and it cost her an -effort to give it no outward expression. Isa was not one of those who -regard the humbler members of a household as mere pieces of furniture, -to be discarded when faulty, or neglected when worn out, without a -thought or a care. She looked upon them as fellow-Christians and -fellow-immortals, over whom the position of master or mistress gives -an influence for which an account must one day be rendered. Added to -this, Lottie’s simplicity, warmth of heart, and the knowledge of her -early trials, had engaged in her behalf the kindly interest of her young -mistress. Isa’s anxiety on account of her run-away servant was not only a -matter of conscience, but a matter of feeling also. - -After some minutes of silence, Isa exclaimed, as if she had suddenly -found a clue for which she had been searching, “It must have been your -words to her yesterday evening.” - -“What words do you mean?” asked Gaspar. - -“You said that she must have been drinking. Such a sentence, though -lightly spoken, would wound her deeply, for she would think it an -allusion to the well-known vice of her father, whom, poor child, she -loves so dearly.” - -“Really,” observed Mr. Gritton, with a short, harsh laugh, “we must be -careful now-a-days where we blow thistle-down, lest it should wound some -sensitive maid-of-all-work!” He was not sorry that Isa should suggest -some cause for Lottie’s sudden flight that was remote from the real one. - -“I cannot rest till I know all, and have seen the poor girl,” thought -Isa; “I will go over to the Castle at once, and ask Edith to take me in -the carriage to Axe.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XV. - -EVIL TONGUES. - - -“I will not go in with you, Isa dear,” said Edith, as the carriage -approached the little country town. “Lottie will speak to you more freely -if no one is by. I hope that we shall be able to carry back with us to -Wildwaste your runaway little gipsy maid.” - -“I am sure that we shall,” replied Isa. “Lottie is an affectionate girl, -and loves me. I must chide her a little, but gently; she is one with whom -a short reproof will go a long way.” - -“And all your scourges are made of feathers, like those in the -fairy-tale,” said Edith with a smile, as the carriage rolled up to the -door of Mrs. Green’s shop. - -Courteously declining the guidance of the cobbler’s stout wife, Isa -lightly ascended the stair to the lodging above. She entertained not -the slightest doubt of succeeding in bringing back her truant; her only -subject of consideration was how far reproof should be blended with -kindness. Lottie’s strange conduct had given her mistress just cause of -offence; it must not be overlooked, though in Isa’s heart it was already -forgiven. - -The lady tapped at the door, and entered the room where Lottie stood -trembling. Her face was buried in her hands; but Isa could see the red -burning flush on her neck. The girl’s attitude was so expressive of -humiliation and grief, that her gentle mistress forgot at once all her -intended rebuke. - -“My poor Lottie, what has happened?” There was nothing but kindness and -sympathy in the voice which uttered the question. - -The tears trickled through Lottie’s brown fingers; but she did not remove -her hands or raise her head. - -“What has happened?” repeated Isa, addressing herself to the lad, who had -risen from his seat on the entrance of the lady. - -Steady tugged hard at the button of his jacket; his nostrils dilated; -he looked first to one side and then to the other, an image of dull -perplexity. He jerked out the answer, “She won’t tell no one;” and then, -unable to bear another interview like that which had just passed between -his sister and Mr. Eardley, the poor lad shuffled hastily out of the room. - -Isa went up to Lottie Stone, and gently laid her hand on her shoulder. -“If you have had anything to pain and distress you, open your heart to -me. I am not angry with you, Lottie, though you did wrong to leave the -house without giving notice. I am willing to take you back if you tell me -frankly the cause of your going.” - -“I can’t tell,” replied Lottie in a choking voice. - -[Illustration: MISS ISA QUESTIONS LOTTIE.] - -“Something that was said distressed you, perhaps. Was it what your master -spoke about drinking, when you threw down the weights last evening?” - -Isa’s question suddenly opened for the young maid a little door of -escape. The lady had found out a cause for Lottie’s strange conduct -when she herself could give none. Would there be any harm in leaving -Miss Gritton to think, and to lead others to think, that the whole -strange affair had arisen from a burst of passionate feeling, caused -by an accusation which had been both unjust and cruel? A disingenuous -girl would have gladly availed herself of the lady’s mistaken view, and -have left her to form her own conclusions from it. But Lottie had the -straightforward simplicity of one in whose spirit there is no guile. She -shook her head on Isa’s repeating her question, and her mistress remained -more perplexed than ever. Isa felt, as Mr. Eardley had felt, surprised, -discouraged, and at length a little displeased. Lottie would neither -apologize, nor explain, nor consent to go back to her place. No sentence -could be wrung from her lips but a repetition of “I can’t tell,” “I can -never go back;” and yet her manner expressed fervent, grateful affection -towards her young mistress. Isa was convinced that the girl’s obstinate -reserve was not that of indifference or of pride. - -“Lottie, you quite grieve me,” said Isa at length, as she turned to -depart, lingering at the open door with her fingers on the handle, to -give the girl an opportunity of calling her back. - -Lottie clutched her own black hair with both her hands, and tore it, -as if physical pain could relieve the anguish of her heart. She turned -suddenly away to the window, to escape as far as she could from the -presence of her lady. Edith, waiting in the carriage below, chanced to -glance up at the moment, and caught sight of a young face clouded with an -expression of such misery as she had never seen on a countenance before. - -In the meantime, Mr. Eardley, having resolved, if possible, to clear -up the mystery, and at least ascertain whether poor Lottie were not -unjustly accused of dishonesty, walked over to Wildwaste Lodge. He was -much disappointed at not finding Miss Gritton at home, but asked for an -interview with her brother. - -“Master ain’t very well, he don’t see visitors,” said Hannah, who, -grumbling at being left to do all the work of the house, had come -out from the kitchen smoothing her soiled apron and pulling down her -tucked-up sleeves. - -“I have walked from Axe, being anxious to speak on a matter of some -importance,” said the heated and weary clergyman. “Pray, ask Mr. Gritton -to have the kindness to see me but for five minutes.” - -Ushered into the study, Mr. Eardley almost immediately entered on the -object of his visit. Gaspar was embarrassed; he had not contemplated the -difficulties which must arise from Lottie’s faithful adherence to her -promise. - -“Really, sir, I can’t be answerable for—I can’t be expected to know -anything about the doings of a girl like Lottie.” Gaspar took a large -pinch of snuff to cover his embarrassment. - -“But what I am most anxious to ascertain is this: has anything been -missed here, is there the slightest cause to suspect the young girl of -dishonesty?” Gaspar could not meet the gaze of the clear eyes that were -fixed upon him. - -“No; she’s no thief; she’s awkward, ignorant, but honest—yes, perfectly -honest.” The words were spoken as if with effort, and again Gaspar had -recourse to his snuff-box. - -“That is a great relief to me; that is what I wanted to ascertain. I -thank you, Mr. Gritton,” said the clergyman, rising; “I need not longer -intrude on your time.” - -As Mr. Eardley was about to depart, Isa returned from her fruitless -expedition to Axe. To her the presence of the vicar was ever welcome, and -more than usually so at the present moment. She eagerly related to him -all that had happened, as far as her knowledge extended, emphatically -confirming Gaspar’s testimony as to the perfect honesty of poor Lottie. - -The interview did not last as long as either Henry Eardley or Isa would -have wished, as Hannah came clattering in with the tray to prepare for -early dinner. It would have been an act of common courtesy to have asked -the weary minister to stop and partake of the meal. Isa glanced at her -brother, without whose assent she dared not give the invitation which -was upon her lips, but Gaspar did not choose to understand the look; -hospitality was foreign to his nature, and to his sister’s mortification -he suffered the tired guest to depart unrefreshed. - -Henry Eardley left the Lodge with a joyous feeling of a more complicated -nature than would have arisen only from satisfaction at having been -relieved of painful doubts in regard to a member of his flock. His -thoughts were by no means absorbed by the case of Lottie, though he went -out of his way to let it be known in the cottage of Holdich, and in -various dwellings in Axe, that the young maid had not been dismissed for -any fault, and that she had taken nothing with her that was not honestly -her own. - -Mr. Eardley did what he could to clear the character of Lottie from -the imputation resting upon it; but it is as easy to force back an -overflowing river into its usual channel as to stay the flood of calumny -when once it has spread far and wide. The vicar could not throw light on -the mystery of Lottie’s hasty flight from Wildwaste, or her possession of -a considerable sum of money for which she would not account. - -“Folk may talk till they’re black in the face,” said Mrs. Green to -her neighbour the baker, “but they can’t talk away them five bright -sovereigns as I seed with these eyes. Girls can’t make gold pieces out -of old tea-leaves; and if any one gave ’em to her, why don’t she say so -at once?” - -Young Stone returned to his lodging that evening with a black eye and a -great swelling on his brow. - -“O Steady, you have had one of your falls!” exclaimed Lottie, with -affectionate sympathy. - -The lad’s face was working with suppressed emotion. He sat down heavily, -and passed his hand through his mass of shaggy light hair before he -replied in his slow, peculiar drawl,— - -“Bat Maule says—says he—you took fifteen pounds from your master’s desk, -and he was a-goin’ to send you to jail, only Miss Isa begged and prayed, -and so he let you off.” - -It was a long speech for the lad to utter; his drawled-out words fell on -Lottie’s ear like the drip, drip of water, which is said at length to -produce madness in the victim on whose head it descends. - -“And what did you say?” exclaimed the miserable Lottie, starting up from -her seat. - -“I didn’t say nothing, I knocked him down,” replied Steady; “but he did -the like by me.” - -The lad pressed his rag of a handkerchief against his bruised and swollen -forehead—the stain of blood was upon it. - -“Hurt for me!” moaned Lottie, whose courage was beginning to give way -under her complicated trials. - -“I wish you’d clear up about that money,” her brother went on, “’cause -I can’t knock down all them folk as talk, and I can’t stand hearing ’em -call you a thief.” - -Lottie went up to the lad, threw her arms round his neck, and sobbed on -his shoulder. - -“Don’t take on so—don’t take on so,” said poor weak-witted Steady, almost -beginning himself to cry in his rough sympathy with his sister. “I trust -you, Lottie, you ain’t no thief; but why—why won’t you clear up?” - -And still that painful silence had to be maintained, that cruel promise -had to be kept. A hundred times was Lottie on the point of breaking it, -but simple faith kept her firm in temptation. To break her word would -be to disobey her Lord; it was better to suffer than to sin. “But oh!” -thought Lottie, “it’s a blessing that mother is away; how could I have -kept any secret from her!” - -Poor Steady’s rude championship of his sister had been worse than -useless; it only, as was the case with any violent excitement, brought -on one of his sudden attacks, which, though very brief in duration, were -always distressing, and very painful to witness. Sleep, however, soon -removed from the afflicted lad all consciousness of earthly trouble; -but for Lottie there was no rest throughout all the night. She heard the -church-clock strike every hour as she lay on her pallet-bed, almost too -wretched even for tears. - -“But oh,” thought the poor girl, “it’s such a comfort that there is One -who knows all; He knows that I did no wrong, except—except in letting -curiosity lead me on, and touching that bag of gold, and thinking those -wicked, covetous thoughts. But He has forgiven me—I feel that He has, -though He lets me suffer for my folly. It seems as if all my friends -and my comforts were being a-taken from me together. Mother away—father -ill—Mr. Eardley and my dear lady vexed and displeased—all my neighbours -turning against me—even poor Steady scarcely knowing what to think of -me, though he will never desert me. It is just as Mr. Eardley said in -his lecture, all my blossoms are falling from the tree.” The idea linked -itself on to others connected with Gideon when his faith was in trial, -when, just before the struggle with the foe, he was constrained to -deprive himself of the help of those on whose support he had counted. -“It must have seemed strange and hard to him,” mused Lottie, “to have -had the greater part of his friends sent from him, with all these fierce -enemies gathering in front. Now it seems as if my Midianites were getting -stronger than ever, and I more helpless against them. There’s dreadful -Disappointment, and worse than Discontent, and I seem at Dissension with -all my neighbours, though I never willingly did them wrong; and as for -Distrust, ’tis just crushing me down, for I can’t see any way out of my -troubles, and it looks as if the Lord had forsaken me. And now those of -whom I would have said, ‘They will always comfort and care for me and -trust me,’ are those who cause me most grief and pain. They are still -good, patient, and kind; yet I have, as it were, to send them from me, -and struggle with temptation alone. But God gave victory to Gideon in a -way that man would not have thought of. It was not to make him really -weaker that he was deprived of his friends; I suppose that it was to make -him rest more entirely on God. Perhaps that is why a poor child like me -is left so desolate now. I look to this side, and to that side, and no -one seems able to help me; and then, when there’s hope nowhere else, I -look up straight to my God. I should like to hear more of what happened -to Gideon. I think that I could walk to Mrs. Holdich’s cottage on Friday -with Steady, who goes whenever he can. It would be dreadful, indeed, to -face all the people; do they not look upon me as a thief! And yet,” said -the poor girl, half aloud, raising herself on her elbow, as the first -morning ray glimmered through her casement, “I should like to show to -all that I am not ashamed, that I dare show my face before my accusers. -I should like Mr. Eardley to see that I prize his holy words—for, oh! -I need them—I need the comfort and strength which only religion can -give. It would be a pleasure, too, to look on the face of my sweet young -mistress; I would not speak to her—oh, no—but I do so long to see her; -and I would quietly slip away as soon as the prayer was done.” - -The resolution thus taken seemed to calm the mind of Lottie, or perhaps -Nature at last was claiming her rights, and sorrow of mind gave way to -overpowering weariness of body. Deeply and peacefully the young girl -slept, with her hands folded as if in prayer. - -Lottie rose with a brave spirit, though a heavy heart; she was resolved -to seek comfort in a clear conscience toward man and a humble confidence -in her God, however painful might be the struggle before her. Lottie did -not sit down in idle sorrow, though she shrank from quitting her lodging; -for wherever she went she would have to encounter suspicious looks and -cruel taunts. The young maid read her chapter, and said her prayers with -her brother, and after giving him his simple breakfast, set resolutely -to work to prepare, as she said, for her parents’ return. The room was -thoroughly washed and scrubbed—even the window-panes cleaned; and when -the little place had been made the picture of neatness, Lottie turned to -mending her brother’s garments, in which many a darn and many a patch -showed the skill of her busy fingers. The most trying event of the day -to Lottie was a second long interview with her pastor; but she again -resisted the almost overpowering temptation to pour out her whole heart -to him, and to tell him all that had happened. It was a satisfaction to -find that Mr. Eardley had no suspicion of her honesty, notwithstanding -the mystery regarding the money; and that Miss Gritton had never doubted -that honesty for a moment. Lottie saw that the clergyman was now rather -perplexed than displeased by her reserve; and when, with her honest eyes -looking full into his, she assured him that if he knew all he would not -blame her silence, it was a relief to the poor child to feel that he had -not lost faith in her word. - -Friday brought no tidings from Southampton. Lottie felt keenly “the -sickening pang of hope deferred,” and she had now but little occupation -wherewith to fill up the tedious hours. The day passed slowly and -wearily, till it was time to start for the cottage-meeting. Glad was -Lottie to leave Axe, though only for a space so brief; the cottage -of Holdich was connected in her mind only with thoughts of holiness -and peace, and she was thankful to be permitted still to kneel as a -worshipper there. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XVI. - -LECTURE V.—FAITH CONFIRMED. - - -The Lord is mindful of His own, He remembereth His people. He may, -indeed, permit faith to be put to sharp trial, but His love supports -His servant through it. If, as in the case of Gideon, God removeth -earthly friends; if He take from us the prop of human aid, He can supply -other props, and even from the enemy’s camp. When friends are silent, -encouragement can come from the lips of a foe. A Balaam, eager to curse, -has been made an instrument to bless. - -Strong as was the faith of Gideon, we cannot wonder if a feeling of -misgiving arose in his mind when he looked on the handful of men to which -his force had been reduced. How was it possible that they should meet -the shock of battle with the multitudes of Midian? They were brave and -resolute men, they would follow him to the death; would it not be indeed -_to the death_; had he not been selecting victims for slaughter rather -than warriors for conquest? We must conclude that some such thoughts as -these troubled the spirit of Gideon, from the very circumstance of God’s -finding it needful thus to strengthen his faith: - -“Arise, get thee down unto the host; for I have delivered it into thine -hand,” said the Lord. “But if thou fear to go down, go thou with Phurah -thy servant down to the host: and thou shalt hear what they say; and -afterward shall thine hands be strengthened to go down unto the host.” - -It could not have been personal fear that weighed upon the soul of -Gideon; his anxious care must have been for the safety of others, for -the success of the effort to free his country, or formidable would have -appeared the adventure which he was called to undertake almost alone. -But Gideon appears to have had no hesitation or fear in trusting his own -life to God’s providential care. We picture to ourselves the leader, with -his single attendant, silently treading the path towards the enemy’s -camp, lighted by the glimmering stars in the dark blue midnight sky. -How wide spreads the camp of Amalek and Midian, how innumerable seem -the dark tents within which are slumbering foes, “like grasshoppers -for multitude,” with their camels tethered around, “as the sand by the -sea-side for multitude!” Nor are all amongst the host sleeping: Gideon -hears the sound of voices in converse as he approaches the tents. The -man of God stands still, as conscious that what he will hear will be a -message from God to himself. - -[Illustration: GIDEON LISTENING.] - -“Behold, I dreamed a dream,” said one of the Midianites to his companion, -little guessing on whose ear his words would fall; “and, lo, a cake of -barley bread tumbled into the host of Midian, and came unto a tent, and -smote it that it fell, and overturned it, that the tent lay along. - -“And his fellow answered and said, This is nothing else, save the sword -of Gideon the son of Joash, a man of Israel: for into his hand hath God -delivered Midian, and all the host.” - -The message from the Lord had been given, and Gideon required no more. -There, close to the unconscious enemy, he worshipped; then returning with -renewed faith and hope to the warriors of Israel, he cried, “Arise, for -the Lord hath delivered into your hand the host of Midian!” - -Brethren, are we to look for such encouragements now? The age of -miracles, it may be said, is past; we must rest upon what has already -been revealed, nor seek for wonders and signs to encourage our feeble -faith. Yet, without interrupting the course of nature, God has His own -way of giving strength to the weak and joy to the sorrowful. An instance -of this, which occurred during the fearful Indian Mutiny, suggests itself -to my mind. Two ladies and a child were prisoners in the power of the -cruel enemy, who had destroyed the brother of one of them by blowing -him from a gun. Great must have been the anguish of mind, the fears of -these captive ladies—they were encompassed, as it were, by the hosts of -Midian; could faith endure the fiery trial? The child fell sick, medicine -was asked for, and the captors gave it wrapped up in a soiled piece of -paper. Who would have guessed that through the enemy of our name and -of our faith would be sent medicine not only for the body but the soul? -With wondering joy the ladies discovered that the scrap of paper was -a leaf torn from an English Bible, and containing such a portion of -Scripture as was most exactly suited for their comfort and refreshment. -With what emotions must the poor prisoners have received such a message -from God as this, conveyed through the enemy’s hand: _I, even I, am He -that comforteth you: who art thou, that thou shouldest be afraid of a man -that shall die, and of the son of man which shall be made as grass; and -forgettest the Lord thy Maker, that hath stretched forth the heavens, and -laid the foundations of the earth; and hast feared continually every day -because of the fury of the oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy? and -where is the fury of the oppressor? The captive exile hasteneth that he -may be loosed, and that he should not die in the pit, nor that his bread -should fail_ (Isa. li. 12-15). - -Doubtless these captive Englishwomen received those blessed verses as -a promise from God, even as Gideon did the Midianite’s relation of his -dream, and in their dreary prison bowed their heads and worshipped. -The ladies were delivered from the fury of the oppressor; the captive -exiles were loosed; and surely with them, as with Gideon, would faith be -confirmed, not only for the present time of peril, but through all the -succeeding years of life. - -When we regard faith, as we have been doing during this course of brief -lectures, under the emblem of a fruit tree, we must remember that it is -no standard rearing itself aloft in the pride of its strength, but a -plant in itself but feeble, which must lean on the Rock of Ages; which, -even when its branches are fullest of swelling fruit, needs the props, -the supports which God’s grace only can give. Without these supports how -the branches would lie low on the earth, their fruit be defiled with its -dust! How constantly in the history of God’s people do we find strong -consolation given at the moment when faith is most ready to fail! To -Jacob, a lonely, benighted wanderer, is sent a bright beam of heaven. -Does he fear to encounter an angry brother? the angel of the Lord meets -him and blesses. Joshua, ere commencing an arduous campaign, receives the -promise, _I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee_. To David comes the -assurance of his final triumph from the lips of the very enemy engaged -in hunting for his life: _I know well that thou shalt surely be king, -and that the kingdom of Israel shall be established in thine hand_. But -I need not multiply instances of which the Scripture records are so -full; now, as when He dwelt upon earth, our gracious Saviour says to the -anxious, afflicted spirit, _Be not afraid, only believe_; and to His -disciples entering on the conflict with sore temptation, _Let not your -hearts be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in Me_. - -Rest, therefore, ye afflicted servants of God, on the promises made by -your heavenly Master. The night of trouble may be around you, enemies -may be before you, difficulties may press you from without, temptation -assail you from within; but this is no proof that God has forsaken you. -Are you looking to Him, trusting in Him; are you ready, like Gideon, to -go forth in His strength to fight His battle against every besetting -sin? Then fear not, for He is on your side; _heaviness endureth for a -night, but joy cometh in the morning_; nay, more, the Lord giveth _songs -in the night_, even before the darkness passeth away the tried one, like -Gideon, may worship God and rejoice. The believer goes from strength to -strength, even as day by day on the bough the fruit ripens and swells -towards perfection. There is a growth in grace, an increase in love and -in submission, which is visible even to the world. - -_The salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: He is their strength in -the time of trouble. And the Lord shall help them, and deliver them: He -shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in -Him._ - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XVII. - -DISCLOSURE. - - -“I am certain,” reflected Isa Gritton, as she retired to rest on that -night, “that Lottie Stone bears a clear conscience, whatever her reason -for silence may be. How her poor face, worn and anxious as it looked at -first, brightened when she heard of the support which God gives to the -faith of His people in time of need. I wish that I had had an opportunity -of speaking to her after the service was ended, but when I rose from my -knees and looked for her, she was gone. I trust her—yes, I will trust -her. Is there not a certain degree of faith which Christians should -extend one to another, as it is the property of charity that it _thinketh -no evil_?” - -Lottie and her strange conduct had been much on the mind of Isa, and when -she came to breakfast on the following morning it was with the intention -of proposing again to drive over to Axe for a second interview with her -truant little maid. But thoughts of Lottie were driven away for the time -by a subject of closer personal interest. - -When Isa entered the breakfast-room a little later than usual, she found -Gaspar there already, pacing up and down the apartment with a letter in -his hand, which had come by the early post. He looked restless, excited, -and angry, and Isa saw that no light cause of annoyance disturbed him, -before he broke forth with the angry question, “Is this your doing, Isa; -have I to thank you for this?” and thrust into the hand of his sister the -note which he had just received. - -The epistle did not look at all formidable; it was brief, written on -tinted paper, and in a lady’s handwriting. It was no formal law document, -yet had it been read with much the same emotions as a summons to the bar -of justice might have been. With anxiety, mingled with interest, Miss -Gritton read as follows:— - - LONDON, _May 1_. - - SIR,—I have just received information which has greatly - surprised me, to the effect that the £4000 which I had been led - to believe had been invested in property lost in the _Orissa_ - was actually invested in the cargo of the _St. Christopher_, - which safely arrived at its destination, and, as I am given - to understand, realized a profit of fifty per cent. I shall - place the affair in the hands of my lawyer unless I receive - a satisfactory explanation from yourself. As a personal - interview is desirable, I shall go immediately to Axe, which - is, I understand, in your neighbourhood, and either appoint - an hour for meeting you at the hotel, or, as I am acquainted - with your sister, call on Miss Gritton and see you in her - presence.—I have the honour to be, &c., - - CORA MADDEN. - -“Gaspar, I had nothing to do with this; Cora has learned nothing from -me,” said Isa, as she returned the note to her brother. - -He looked at her with a keen, suspicious gaze; but she met it with that -frank, open glance which carries conviction of truthfulness even to the -sceptical mind. - -Gaspar pressed his hand to his brow, which was furrowed with deep lines -of perplexity and care. “It must have been through the captain,” he -muttered to himself; “and yet I thought—but no matter, she’s on the scent -now, wherever she took it up. Isa, you must stand by me,” nervously added -Mr. Gritton; “you must help me through this difficulty.” - -“How can I help you?—I do not fully understand even the nature of the -difficulty,” said Isa. She paused to give her brother an opportunity for -explanation, but he only had recourse to his snuff-box. Isa pressed him -no further; she had a painful conviction, as she looked upon her unhappy -brother, that he was unable to give any explanation which would satisfy -her own sense of honour. - -[Illustration: GASPAR’S ALARM.] - -The state of the case may be briefly laid before the reader. Gaspar had -already invested largely himself in the cargo of the _Orissa_, when he -had received directions in regard to the money of Miss Madden. Unwilling -that her interests should clash with his own, the _Orissa_ being the -fastest sailer on the line, and the hope of large profits depending much -on being first in the market, Gaspar had placed the property of his -client in the _St. Christopher_, intending to apprise the lady that he -had been unable to ship in the vessel which had first started. While yet -in the Channel, the _Orissa_ had foundered in a storm, with Gaspar’s -investment in her hold. The loss of so much property had been a great -shock to one whose soul was bent upon gain; Gaspar had been overwhelmed -by the unexpected misfortune, when the Tempter had suggested to him a -means by which the loss might actually be converted into profit. Few -knowing anything of the circumstances of Cora’s investment, still fewer -having any interest in the subject, it might be possible, by an exercise -of craft, to make it appear that the lady’s property had been in the -_Orissa_, and that Gaspar’s own had been embarked in the ship which had -safely arrived. - -Gaspar had at first shrunk from the wicked suggestion. Though he was -not a very scrupulous man, there was yet a sufficient sense of honour -left within his breast to make him aware of the enormity of the crime to -which he was tempted. But _the love of money is the root of all evil_, -and with Gaspar it had become an absorbing passion; he was also proud -of the possession of that miserable cunning which some deem cleverness, -but which is foolishness indeed in the sight of a holy God. Conscience -and a feeling of honour,—these were the barriers which, for a short -time, had resisted the pressure of strong temptation; for Gaspar _had_ -a conscience, though by covetousness long-indulged its power had been -greatly weakened. But the barriers had given way, and Gaspar having once -grasped unlawful gain, and added to his stores the gold which rightfully -belonged to another, soon experienced the natural consequence of -yielding to sin. His heart had become hardened, his nature debased, and -he had fallen more and more completely under the dominion of the vice -of covetousness which he had once suffered to subdue him. A hard and -merciless task-master he had found it! While haunted with a perpetual -dread of disgrace, and fear of losing his ill-gotten wealth, Gaspar -could not enjoy it. He was poor in the midst of riches, miserable in the -possession of that for which he had sold his conscience. Notwithstanding -every precaution, Gaspar’s secret had oozed out, and fears of -exposure—ruin—shame—rose up before him like phantoms. - -“She may be here this very day,” were the first words from the miserable -man which broke the oppressive silence. “Isa, you must not quit the -house—you must remain beside me—you know Miss Madden, and may influence -her mind.” - -“I influence Cora!” exclaimed Isa; “I know her, indeed—perhaps too -well—but ours was never the intimacy of friendship!” The young lady -spoke with some emotion, for every recollection connected with Cora -was bitter. It is true that Isa no longer regarded her separation from -Lionel as a misfortune. Since she had come so near to the place of his -former sojourn, light had been thrown on his character which had revealed -something of its selfishness and hollowness, and upon the young maiden -purer hopes were dawning than even those of first love; but still, of -all beings upon earth, Cora Madden was the one whom Isa regarded with -most fear and aversion. She looked upon Cora as an impersonification of -malice; as a dangerous woman; the bearer of the apple of discord; one who -delighted to turn into ridicule all whose standard of duty was higher -than her own. Isa had struggled to keep down the feelings of restraint -which swelled in her heart, and, like Edith, never to speak of her enemy -save to her God; she had tried to banish Cora even from her memory; but -now it appeared that she might be brought into close contact with Miss -Madden, and in a way most painful. Isa could not close her eyes to the -fact that her brother stood in a humiliating position, and innocent -as she herself was, she must yet share his humiliation. She must see -scorn—just scorn—on that haughty lip whose sneer had already stung her -like a scorpion; she might have to ask indulgence from one to whom she -could with difficulty accord forgiveness. All Isa’s natural pride rose -up in arms against this. Why should she endure the shame when innocent -of the guilt? Let Gaspar abide the consequences of his own conduct, -whatever that conduct might have been; she would leave him to make what -explanation, arrange what compromise he could; she would go to the -Castle, where no word of reproach, no glance of scorn would ever reach -her, where she would be welcomed by relatives whose behaviour had never -brought a blush to her cheek. This was Isa’s thought for a moment, but it -was instantly put aside as selfish, ungenerous, unkind. Her brother, at -this time of all others, had need of her sympathy, counsel, and support. -She might help him to struggle not only against outward difficulties, -but the inward enemies—the Midianites—that had brought him into this -strait—that had struck at his honour, and destroyed his peace. Might not -the disclosure which had covered him with shame be a means of loosening -his fetters? The social worship of the preceding evening, the prayers -which she had heard uttered by one whom, of all men, she most honoured, -had braced the spirit of Isa. The whole history of Gideon was to her as a -commentary on the text, _Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of His -might_. She would, in her maiden meekness, stand at the post where God -had placed her, stand against the spiritual foes of her soul; she would -not sink under disappointment, yield to discontent, or harbour distrust -of her Lord. She would ask for strength, and look for strength, and -believe that strength would be given. - -Isa’s first struggle was against the feeling of contempt inspired by the -conduct of Gaspar. If it were wrong to desert her brother, was it not -also wrong to despise him; and yet how closely did her very pity seem to -be allied with scorn! Now that for the first time Gaspar turned to her -for sympathy, he must find it; not sympathy with his wretched grasping -at gain, but with him in the pain and perplexity into which that grasping -had brought him. Mr. Gritton was in a miserable state of indecision, -and Isa was the sole confidante of his troubles; as she already knew so -much, he almost unconsciously let her know all. Now he clung to the hope -that what Cora suspected she would find it impossible to prove, that he -might safely abide even the issue of a lawsuit: then all his thoughts -were turned towards a compromise which might save his honour without -too far trenching on his interests; much might be done in a personal -interview; an inexperienced woman might easily be induced to compound -for the restoration of part of her property, by yielding up her claim to -the residue. After long, restless pacing up and down the room, revolving -various plans and expedients, Gaspar threw himself on a chair by his -sister, and nervously opened to her his views, concluding by saying in an -embarrassed tone, “You will explain—you will soften—you will induce Miss -Madden to listen to reason.” - -“Gaspar, dear Gaspar, suffer me to speak freely and openly to you,” said -Isa, whose mind had been as actively engaged as that of her brother as -she had sat silent by the casement, with her untouched work lying on her -knee. “When we have gone out of the straight way, surely, surely our -first care should be to retrace our steps; if any wrong has been done, -should it not be set right without further delay?” - -“I want your help, and not your advice,” muttered Gaspar. - -“Yet hear me,” said Isa earnestly, for she felt that something more -precious than her brother’s interests, more dear than even his -reputation, was at stake. “I know that you have been unhappy—I have seen -it; your better, your nobler nature, has been oppressed by a burden -which—which you may now throw off and for ever. Oh, deal frankly and -fairly by Cora Madden! Give her what is her due, principal and interest, -even to the utmost farthing: poverty is no evil, want itself is no evil, -compared with the gnawing consciousness of possessing that which cannot -have God’s blessing upon it.” - -Gaspar pressed his thin bloodless lips together, as if suppressing a -groan. He felt his sister’s fervent appeal—it found an echo in his own -conscience; but he was not yet prepared to throw down his idol, to burst -from the yoke which galled. Mr. Gritton rose hastily, without replying, -and resumed his restless walk. Isa could but guess the nature of the -struggle going on within, and silently pray that God might strengthen the -faith of the tempted one, and give victory to the right. - -If not the most painful, that was certainly one of the most tedious -days that had ever been passed by Isa Gritton. Gaspar was irritable, -nervous, wretched; vacillating as a pendulum, never in the same mind for -twenty minutes together. He appeared to be constantly on the watch; -never left the house, stood often gazing forth from the window, and -nervously started at every unusual sound. There seemed to Isa to be a -spell on the hands of her watch, they moved so slowly; she could not -pursue her accustomed occupations, for Gaspar was unwilling to have her -out of his sight, and was perpetually interrupting her with snatches of -conversation. But the long day closed at last—closed in mist and rain; -a dull white fog blotted out the landscape, and ere the hour of sunset, -twilight closed in. Isa tried to beguile the evening by reading aloud, -but even the work on commercial statistics entirely failed to interest -Gaspar. His mind was abstracted, his ear painfully on the strain for -other sounds than those of his sister’s melodious voice. Glad was Isa -when the hour at length arrived when she could retire, and prepare -herself, by devotional reading, prayer, and then rest, for whatever the -morrow might bring. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -MERCY AND SELF-DENIAL. - - -The Sabbath morning rose clear and bright, Nature looking all the fairer -for the tears which she had shed on the previous night. As Isa Gritton -was completing her toilet, Hannah brought in a note. Isa instantly -recognized the handwriting; and as this missive had evidently not passed -through the post, but been brought by a messenger, the young lady, with -some anxiety, broke open the envelope and read its contents:— - - _Saturday Evening._ - - DEAR MISS GRITTON,—I was on the way to Axe, but felt so ill - with feverish headache that I could not proceed beyond this - wretched little inn (the Black Bear), which, as I hear, is not - ten minutes’ walk from your house. Could you come over and see - me?—Yours, - - CORA MADDEN. - -“Who brought this?” inquired Isa of Hannah. - -“Mrs. Taylor, the landlady of the ‘Black Bear.’ She’s a-waiting below, -and she says that she wants to see you partic’lar.” - -Isa hastened down-stairs, and found in the hall the landlady of the -roadside public-house, which had been dignified with the name of an inn -on the strength of the single guest-chamber which it held above the -tap-room. Cora Madden must have felt ill indeed before she accepted such -shelter. The landlady was a woman of a coarse and vulgar stamp, deeply -pitted with small-pox, and with a strong scent of spirits about her. Isa -felt repugnance at the idea of paying a visit at her house. - -“The lady writ that last night,” said Mrs. Taylor, not waiting to be -questioned, but speaking loud and fast and without a pause; “but it -warn’t convenient to send it over, for Tom hadn’t come in, and Jim hadn’t -just his legs; and ’twas lucky I didn’t, ’cause we did not know what it -was, and now it’s all come out red as fire.” - -“What has come out? what do you mean?” asked Miss Gritton. - -“The small-pox, miss; quite full out—not a place on her face where you -could lay a sixpenny bit. It’s very unlucky it’s in my house, but the -chay put up in the stables last night, and the man’s a-going to put the -horse to—” - -“Stop!” exclaimed Isa; “let me understand you. Do you mean to tell me -that Miss Madden is lying ill of small-pox in your house?” - -“But won’t stop there long—couldn’t think of it. I’ve six children, and I -nigh died of small-pox myself these thirty years back, so I know what it -be; and it’s a great shame, it is, to come a-sickening in the midst of a -family, and get an inn the name of being infected. But she’s a-going at -once back to Portal, or on to Axe, afore she’s an hour older.” - -“A moment—listen!” cried Isa, interrupting with difficulty the loud -incoherent rattle of the landlady; “are you going to send away a lady ill -of the small-pox, without so much as knowing where she can find a place -of shelter?” - -“I guess there be lodgings to be had somewhere; if not at one place at -another; they’ll drive about till they find ’un; she can’t stay with me: -I’ve a large family, and thirty years back come Michaelmas I—” - -Isa Gritton pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to collect her -thoughts, distracted by the vociferous talking. A new difficulty had, -most unexpectedly, risen before her; a sudden emergency, and—as something -seemed to whisper within—a call for the exercise of Christian mercy -towards one whom she had regarded as a foe. - -The sound of Mrs. Taylor’s loud voice drew Gaspar Gritton out of his -room. “Who is here? is anything the matter?” he cried. - -“It cant be expected that I should turn my house into an hospital, and -frighten away customers and—” Mrs. Taylor would have pursued her remarks -had she had any listener, but Isa, anxious and troubled in countenance, -had drawn her brother into the study. - -“Gaspar, Cora is at the ‘Black Bear,’ ill with small-pox. The landlady is -going to send her away at once to find a shelter where she may. Oh, were -the complaint anything but small-pox, it would seem but common charity to -offer her a refuge here!” - -“And lay her under obligation; ay, ay, I see—lay her under deepest -obligation—I see, I see; the best thing that could possibly be done!” -cried Gaspar. - -Isa was startled at her brother’s eagerness; her words had been the -intuitive expression of the feelings of a generous spirit, but she had -not seriously contemplated bringing a small-pox patient into her home. -Gaspar saw his sister’s cheek turn pale, and became aware that the step -proposed must be attended not only with great personal inconvenience, but -serious hazard to his young and beautiful sister. Unlike her brother, -Isa had never yet had the malady, and regarded it with considerable -dread. It was not only the peril to life, and the minor risk of permanent -disfigurement, which made Isa shrink from exposing herself to infection, -but the quarantine to which she must be subjected while nursing a patient -in small-pox would be, especially at this time, a very serious trial. It -would be like a sudden calling back of winter when the blossoms of spring -were opening to sweetest fragrance and brightest beauty. Even the dull -comfortless days at Wildwaste had been gemmed with some moments of such -exquisite happiness as had almost served to brighten the whole; and now -must the door be closed against even Edith and Henry Eardley, because it -had been opened to receive Cora Madden? Gaspar read strong repugnance to -the sacrifice in the expressive countenance of his sister. - -“No, no,” he said; “you might take the infection. Miss Madden must try -her chance somewhere else.” - -“Let me consider for a few moments, Gaspar. Detain the woman, I must ask -counsel ere I decide;” and Isa hurriedly sought her own room, to sink -on her knees and implore guidance and light on the tangled path opening -before her. - -There were a few words which Isa had heard from the lips of the vicar of -Axe, which she had laid up in her heart for a time of perplexity like -this:—“When you are in doubt as to what course to pursue, when reason -appears to be lost in a mist, and you cannot clearly discern the narrow -path of duty, ask conscience two simple questions,—‘Were my Lord in -visible presence here, what would He bid me do? what may I venture to -believe that He would have done in my place?’ Such questions, honestly -put, and in a spirit of prayer, will draw forth such a reply as will -clear off the mist, and be as the voice saying, _This is the way, walk ye -in it, when ye turn to the right hand or to the left._” - -Isa obeyed the direction now; bending her head over her clasped hands, -with the prayer, “Oh, guide me, Lord, by Thy counsel!” she asked -conscience the two simple questions. Familiar words of Scripture recurred -to her mind,—_Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye -also so unto them_. What would she desire if, like Cora, she were -ill, desolate, and alone, driven from the shelter even of a miserable -wayside inn, and sent to seek from house to house a place in which to -lay—perchance a dying head? And what would have been the conduct of the -Merciful One towards such a sufferer, however erring, however guilty? -Would He have paused to consider whether she were a foe or a friend? -_Christ pleased not Himself_, and He _hath left an example that we should -follow His steps_. - -Isa rose from her knees, and calling the servant, whom she heard -spreading the breakfast in the adjoining apartment, she at once gave -orders for preparing for the reception of a lady ill of small-pox. Isa -would give up her own sleeping-room to Cora, and have Lottie’s little -pallet-bed placed in the boudoir for herself. Leaving Hannah wondering -and grumbling, Isa returned to her brother and informed him of her -decision. Gaspar, glad that it was such as might further his own selfish -interests, sent off Mrs. Taylor to make arrangements for Cora’s removal -to Wildwaste Lodge. - -Isa had won another silent victory over the Midianites within, over -Selfishness, Vanity, and Fear. One sacrifice had given her strength for -another. Under the influence of that faith which worketh by love, Isa -made every preparation for the comfort of Cora that she could have made -for that of a cherished sister, giving her own efforts to make up for the -shortness of time and the incapacity or unwillingness of her servant. -Not more than half an hour elapsed before a chaise drove up to the door, -where Isa Gritton stood ready to welcome Cora Madden. The driver feared -to help out the invalid, who—swathed in blankets, a miserable, disfigured -object—would have been forced to descend without aid, and drag her -tottering limbs into the house, had not Isa’s hands been stretched out -to support—had not Isa’s slight arm been thrown gently around her. Cora -crossed the threshold, and feebly walked up the staircase, resting upon -the woman whose peace she for a time had blighted, whose prospects she -had done her utmost to destroy! Self-denying kindness may be shown to a -friend from natural affection—to a stranger from intuitive pity; but when -shown to a bitter enemy, it is one of the strongest proofs that the love -of Christ which constraineth hath been shed abroad in the heart. - -“You are indeed a good Samaritan; God will bless you for it!” murmured -Cora, as she sank upon her comfortable bed, while Isa gently beat up the -pillow to support the aching head of her guest. Never had a blessing from -any other lips gone so warm to the heart of Isa; it was a blessing wrung, -as it were, from an enemy; it was as the encouraging word heard by Gideon -on the night when he stood in the camp of the foe. - -[Illustration: THE ARRIVAL OF MISS MADDEN] - -Gaspar had sent from the hamlet a messenger for a doctor. He came -before noon, and pronounced that Miss Madden had not been injured by her -removal, and that with care she was likely to do well. He prescribed -absolute quietness, and forbade her speaking much on any subject, -especially such as might excite her. But it was easier for the doctor -to give the order than it was for Isa to enforce it. Her patient little -merited the name. Cora was eager to speak on business; and Isa could -scarcely soothe her into silence by entreating that she would wait a few -days, and that then she might have an interview with Mr. Gritton himself. - -Gaspar had made the unusual effort of walking over to the steward’s -cottage, to speak to Mr. Holdich about a nurse to assist his sister. -Rebekah at once volunteered to go herself, if her husband’s consent were -obtained, and to Isa’s great relief appeared at the Lodge just as the -doctor quitted it. Not only were her experience and willing help a great -comfort to the young lady, but the presence of a gentle, pious woman, -sympathizing and kind, was a real pleasure to Isa. Much cheerful converse -they had together in the boudoir, with the door open between it and the -room in which Cora lay sleeping. Rebekah had many a pleasant anecdote to -relate to an attentive hearer, of Edith and of one dearer than Edith. -Never had Isa listened to tale of romance with half the interest with -which she did now to the account of the difficulties which had to be -overcome, and the efforts to be made by the vicar of Axe, to introduce -a knowledge of vital religion into that remote and benighted part of his -parish which surrounded Castle Lestrange. - -The tidings of Cora’s illness and its nature was not long in reaching the -little country town of Axe. Mrs. Green stood at the door of her shop on -the Monday morning, exchanging gossip with her neighbour the baker. - -“If ever there was a parson like ours!” she observed. “Always at work, -Sundays and week-days; and as anxious about his folk as if they were all -his children. He was here again, not an hour ago, to look after that -little thief upstairs; but I chanced to say to him, ‘I s’pose you’ve -heard, sir, as Miss Madden’s lying sick of small-pox at Wildwaste Lodge?’ -and he looked as if he’d heard sudden of the death of his father, and -repeated, ‘Small-pox—Wildwaste Lodge!’ as if the words was a knell.” - -“I dare say Mr. Eardley’s sorry for the poor lady; she was his -parishioner some years ago when the Maddens lived at the Castle.” - -“He must have taken an uncommon interest in her,” said Mrs. Green with -a smile, “for he forgot all about what he’d come for, and was off for -the Lodge like a shot. He’s not one to be afeard of infection; he sat up -all night with poor Bramley, when he was a-dying of the fever. Maybe he -thinks that if Miss Madden’s in a bad way, she might like to have a word -with a parson.” - -“She was one of the worldly and gay,” observed the baker, shaking his -head. “I don’t believe that she and Mr. Eardley had ever much to say to -one another; but she’s the sister of his friend Mr. Arthur, and the vicar -may care for her for his sake.” - -Had the duty of spiritual visitation been all that had led Henry Eardley -to bend his rapid steps towards Wildwaste, he must have returned to Axe -disappointed. Cora had passed a favourable night, and suffered little but -from the extreme irritation caused by her malady. When Isa softly glided -to her side, and whispered that the clergyman had called to inquire for -her, and to know whether she had any wish to see him, Cora replied with a -characteristic sneer, “I’m not dying; and if I were, I would send for the -undertaker as soon as the parson.” - -And yet it was with no feeling of disappointment that Henry Eardley went -on his homeward way. He turned from the dull, unsightly brick building -on the common, as one loath to leave the earthly paradise in which has -been passed a golden hour of life. His interview with Isa had indeed been -but brief, but it was one which left memories behind which would remain -fragrant in his soul to the close of his mortal existence. - -“Priceless jewel enclosed in yon dull casket!” said Henry Eardley to -himself, turning to give a parting glance at Isa’s home. “May Heaven -watch over that precious one’s life, and shield her from the danger to -which her noble, unselfish devotion has exposed her.” - -That prayer welled up from the depths of the vicar’s soul. It was for one -of whom he for the first time dared to let himself think as possibly the -future partner of all his joys and his sorrows, his guardian angel, his -treasure. Henry Eardley had been fascinated by Isa when meeting her at -the Castle; but a painful misgiving had rested on his mind as to whether -she, the bright ornament of society, flattered and admired, were suited -for, or could ever endure the life of lowly active usefulness which -that of a vicar’s wife should be. From the time when he had first given -himself to the ministry, Mr. Eardley had made a firm resolve, that should -he ever ask a woman in marriage, she should be one who would be his -helper, and not his hinderer, in doing his Master’s work. A pastor and -his wife should be as the two hands of a watch—the one moving in a larger -circle and with more visible activity than the other, but both fixed on -the same centre, both moved by the same spring, united in the same work, -and pointing to the same truth. With this conviction on his mind, Henry -Eardley had almost resolved to shun the society of the baronet’s niece -as a dangerous pleasure; such a bird of paradise, he thought, would -never brook the lowly perch, the secluded nest. But when he saw Isa pale -from watching by the sick-bed of a comparative stranger, for whom the -beauteous had risked the loss of beauty, and the youthful that of life, -all such misgivings passed for ever away. Henry Eardley felt that if he -dare but aspire to the hand of Isa Gritton, even were the malady which -she had braved to rob her of all her loveliness, he would be of all men -on earth the most blessed. That which the maiden had feared would divide -her from him whose regard she most valued, was but as a golden link to -bind them together for ever. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XIX. - -REFRESHMENT. - - -“Better go back, Lottie; ye were dead tired last time,” said Steady to -his sister on the evening of the next lecture, as she sat down by the -road-side to rest, on her way to the steward’s cottage. - -“I was not half so tired as my heart felt afore I went to the meeting,” -replied Lottie. “Thought I, if I don’t get some help with this burden of -trouble, I’ll just lie down and die. All the people looking so strangely -at me, and speaking so cruelly of me—no news from mother—no news of poor -father—and now my dear young mistress nursing a lady in the small-pox, -and I away! Oh, if she catches it!” Lottie started up as if the idea had -inspired her with fresh energy, “I will go and nurse her; nothing shall -stay me; she shall see that I ain’t ungrateful.” - -“Maybe she won’t catch it,” observed Steady. - -“I pray God with all my heart and soul that she may not!” cried Lottie. -“I should like,” she continued, more quietly, as she plodded along the -dusty highroad with her brother—“I should like to have nursed Miss -Madden, not ’cause I care for her, but for the sake of her brother, Mr. -Arthur.” - -“He was the best friend as ever we had,” observed Steady. - -“He taught us about heaven—he helped us in trouble—he worked so hard to -put out the fire when the flames were a’most catching our cottage. And to -think of his lying dying far, far away in Jerusalem!” The black eyes of -Lottie Stone were brimming over with tears. - -“Mind—you’ll be run over!” exclaimed Steady, suddenly pulling his sister -to one side, out of the way of an open carriage which was coming up -rapidly behind them. The Stones had been walking in the centre of the -road. - -Full as she was of her own mournful thoughts, Lottie did not even look at -the carriage as it whirled past; but she was startled by a voice from it -suddenly exclaiming, “Stop, coachman, stop! Yes; that is Lottie Stone, -with her brother!” - -Lottie uttered a low cry of delight as she glanced up and recognized the -face—emaciated, indeed, and very pale—of the benefactor of her family, as -he bent smiling from the carriage to greet those whom he had not seen for -years. Arthur Madden and his sister Lina had a few hours before arrived -at Axe, having hastened thither immediately upon reaching England, from -hearing tidings of the illness of Cora. They had been relieved from -anxiety on her account by Mr. Eardley, from whom they learned that -the invalid was in a fair way to recover. Medical men had strictly -forbidden Arthur to expose himself in his weakened state to any hazard of -infection; and Lina, his devoted nurse, was thankful not to be obliged to -leave him, as the clergyman informed her how tenderly Cora was watched -over by Isa Gritton. - -[Illustration: THE RECOGNITION.] - -Arthur and Lina had taken up their quarters at a quiet hotel at Axe. A -message from the former to the vicar had brought Mr. Eardley instantly to -see them. With hearty joy and fervent thanksgiving, Henry wrung the thin -hand of his friend. - -“The accounts of you had been so alarming that I had hardly ventured to -hope to see your face again in this world!” cried the vicar. - -“The voyage did me much good; and the sight of dear familiar faces will -do me much more,” said Arthur. “I long to be again amongst my old pupils -at Wildwaste, and to meet with honest Holdich once more. Do you still -hold your little week-day services in that honey-suckle-mantled cottage, -which is connected in my mind with some of its pleasant recollections?” - -“I hold one there this evening,” replied Mr. Eardley. - -“Then we will go to it,” cried Arthur Madden; “it will so remind us of -_auld lang syne_. Nay, no remonstrance, Lina,” he added gaily, as he read -an objection in the face of his anxious young nurse; “it will _not_ tire -me, it will _not_ give me a chill; it will make me feel ten years younger -to find myself amongst my poor friends again: and I should like our first -meeting to be in that place, where we used to worship together. I will -ring and order an open carriage to be here early enough to give us half -an hour for greetings before the service begins; at least, if it be not -inconvenient for you to start so soon,” said Arthur, addressing himself -to the vicar, “for you must come with us in the carriage, and tell us -on the way the thousand things which I wish to hear of Wildwaste and its -people.” - -There is nothing so healthful as happiness. The keen enjoyment which -Arthur felt in returning to the place where he had first laboured for -God, where he had first realized what a blessed thing it is to win souls -for Christ, was as a powerful tonic to his enfeebled constitution. Never -had his eye looked brighter, or his voice sounded more cheerful, than -during that drive from Axe, as he recognized familiar landmarks, and -questioned his friend, Mr. Eardley, as to the fortunes of those whom he -had known before quitting England. - -“I remember that Wildwaste is not in your parish. Has it the same aged -minister still?” - -“Yes; but I hear that Mr. Bull is about to resign his cure. He is now -unable to perform even the shortest service.” - -“I hope and trust that an earnest, hard-working man may be put in his -place,” said Arthur. - -“God grant it!” was the vicar’s response. - -“And old Tychicus Bolder, the teetotaller,” inquired young Madden after -a pause; “does he still declaim as fiercely as ever against the evils of -Wildwaste?” - -“The rod of affliction has been heavy on poor Bolder. He suffered so -greatly from rheumatism last winter that it was feared that he might -altogether lose the use of his limbs; but he has rallied wonderfully -during the last few days, and he expressed a hope, when I last saw him, -that he would be able to get to church again in the summer.” - -“He seemed to me,” observed Lina Madden, “one of the most proud, -uncharitable, and self-righteous men that I ever had met with; but I -suppose that we shall see him much changed.” - -“He is much changed indeed,” replied Mr. Eardley; “for to poor Bolder -suffering has not been sent in vain. He used to look around him for -subjects of censure, now he has learned to look within; and what he did -before to be honoured of men, he does now for the sake of his God. Human -nature regards sickness and pain as enemies; but it is through such -enemies that a message of love and mercy has come to Bolder.” - -“And little Lottie Stone, my first acquaintance in Wildwaste, how fares -she?” asked Arthur Madden. “Methinks I see her now, in my mind’s eye, -the gipsy-like child, with her earnest black eyes, wrapped up in the old -scarlet cloak, and—why, surely, there is Lottie herself!” he exclaimed, -and calling to the coachman to stop, Arthur Madden, as we have already -seen, greeted the young Stones with pleasure, which was more than -reciprocated by them. - -With the young hope is buoyant, and the sense of happiness keen. The -sight of her benefactor living, convalescent, looking bright and kind as -ever, seemed to Lottie’s warm young heart an earnest that, like her late -anxiety upon his account, all her other troubles would soon pass away. -Her mother would come back—her father would live to be a blessing and -comfort in his home—her own character would be fully cleared—Miss Gritton -and her dear pastor would smile upon her again—and Heaven would guard her -sweet lady from taking the infection of the fever. Mr. Eardley looked on -that beaming young face, and his reflection was much the same as that of -Isa had been, “There is no sense of guilt weighing on the conscience of -that child; truth and innocence are written upon every feature.” - -“If you, too, are going to the lecture, Lottie, we’ll spare you the long -walk,” said the smiling Lina. - -“Yes; up with you, Lottie, beside the coachman,” cried Arthur. “Steady -will follow; I’ll be bound he’ll be in time. I never knew him late at my -class; he was one on whom I could always depend.” - -The few words of kindly praise called up a grin of pleasure on the -sun-burned face of the dull-witted but true-hearted lad, who went -plodding on his lonely way almost as happy as his sister. - -The rapid motion of the vehicle on which she was mounted was very -exhilarating to Lottie. She felt herself metaphorically, as well as -literally, lifted on high from the dust, relieved from oppressive -weariness, given rest and enjoyment while at the same time borne swiftly -onwards. When the carriage stopped at the honey-suckle covered porch, -Lottie sprang down from her lofty seat light as a squirrel. She had -no fear now of encountering cold looks, suspicious glances, as groups -from the neighbourhood dropped into the meeting. Every eye was fixed -upon Arthur Madden; no one seemed to have a thought but for him and his -sister, so lately arrived from the Holy Land. Lottie missed, indeed, -amongst the throng her young mistress and Rebekah Holdich, who were both -absent from fear of conveying infection; but her prayers for them both -rose now with a feeling of joyous confidence, to which the poor girl had -been a stranger since making that promise of silence to Gaspar, which had -been the source of such pain and distress. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XX. - -LECTURE VI.—FAITH VICTORIOUS. - - -We are to contemplate this evening, my friends, in one of the most -marvellous triumphs ever granted to faith, a most striking emblem of the -victory of the gospel over the opposition of earth and hell. We will -first consider the historical narrative before us: then see how in it -is prefigured the success attending the preaching of the apostles and -disciples of our Lord; and, finally, draw encouragement for ourselves in -our conflict against the Midianites in our own souls. - -Gideon, after returning to his camp, made immediate preparations for a -night attack upon the foe. But these preparations were of a nature to -cause surprise amongst his three hundred devoted men. They were not to -string the bow or to grasp the keen sword; they were to go forth into -the midst of the armed multitudes of Midian as sheep amongst wolves, -without—as it seems—either weapons of offence or armour for protection! -Gideon divided his little band into three companies, and he put a trumpet -into every man’s hand, with an empty pitcher, and a lamp was placed -within each pitcher. And the leader said to his followers: “Look on me, -and do likewise: and, behold, when I come to the outside of the camp, it -shall be that, as I do, so shall ye do. When I blow with a trumpet, I and -all that are with me, then blow ye the trumpets also on every side of all -the camp, and say, _The sword of the Lord and of Gideon_!” - -So Gideon, and the three hundred men that were with him, came unto the -outside of the camp in the beginning of the middle night watch, and they -blew the trumpets, and brake the pitchers that were in their hands. - -Loud and terrible was the sound that thus startled the hosts of Midian -from their slumbers on that eventful night—the blare of the trumpets, -the crash of the vessels, while suddenly the glare of a hundred waving -torches lit up the darkness! From this side and that side the sound -is echoed, the flash is reflected, while loud bursts the shout that -strikes terror into the Midianites’ souls,—“_The sword of the Lord and -of Gideon!_” Smitten with panic, confused by the noise, dazzled by the -glare, the multitudes of Midian are but embarrassed by their own numbers, -they cannot distinguish friend from foe,—they snatch up their weapons, -indeed, and use them with frantic vigour, but every man’s hand is turned -against his own fellow—warriors strike right and left, but their fierce -blows fall on their own companions in arms! One wild instinct to save -life by flight possesses all that vast host; men rush hither and thither -with frantic speed, careless of trampling over the corpses of countrymen, -comrades, brothers! - -The chosen three hundred, the “forlorn hope” of Israel, had thus, through -the power of Israel’s God, discomfited and put to flight the armies of -the aliens; but their brethren were to join in the pursuit. Warriors -gathered out of Naphtali, Asher, and Manasseh, and pressed hard on the -flying foe. Gideon despatched messengers throughout all Ephraim, calling -on the men of that neighbouring tribe to seize on the fords of Jordan, -to intercept the flight of the Midianites over the river. His directions -were obeyed; the warlike Ephraimites joined in the effort to free their -country from the foe; they pursued Midian, and brought the heads of two -of its princes, Oreb and Zeeb, to Gideon on the other side of the Jordan. - -In the marvellous success granted to the efforts of a handful of men -who, strong in faith, though armed only with trumpets to sound, and -torches to display, we see most clearly foreshadowed the triumph of the -gospel in the days of the apostles and their immediate followers. The -whole world lay in wickedness, shrouded in deep moral darkness, like the -hosts of Midian in night, when the Saviour came down unto His own, to -be despised and rejected of men. Satan appeared to hold the human race -under a yoke which no effort could break. Rome, that towered supreme -amongst the nations, that held in subjection even the chosen land of -Israel, was wholly given to idolatry. Incense offered to false gods -rose from unnumbered shrines, benighted myriads worshipped vain idols -in blind superstition. And what was the force chosen by God to oppose, -to discomfit the powers of earth and of hell, to overthrow heathen -altars, to raise the banner of the Cross against Satan and his hosts, -against the kings and princes of this world? A little band of apostles -and disciples—a few fishermen and their companions—mostly poor, mostly -unlearned, were to engage in this the most mighty struggle which the -world had ever known! Not as the followers of Mohammed, with the sword to -sweep their enemies from the earth; the early Christians had, as it were, -like Gideon’s men, their _torches_ and their _trumpets_. The trumpet, -symbol of preaching,—the loud clear declaration of the glorious truth -that salvation is offered freely to men through the blood of an incarnate -God. _If the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself -to the battle?_ saith the Apostle Paul, who himself gave a blast, the -echo of which still resoundeth throughout the world! And the torches -which these early Christians displayed were the examples of their pure -and devoted lives—shining through, dispelling the darkness around them, -according to the word of their Lord, _Let your light so shine before men, -that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in -heaven._ - -But the treasure was borne in earthly vessels, and those vessels were -broken and shattered, that the light might more clearly be seen. “The -blood of martyrs was the seed of the Church.” All the apostles, with the -single exception of St. John, who was persecuted and banished, died a -violent death for the sake of the gospel. But their lights did not perish -with them: no; they were lifted on high to shine in glory, enlightening -generation after generation, with a brilliance which shall never pass -away. Thus was it that our religion triumphed over the enemy by the flash -of the torch and the blast of the trumpet. The victory of Gideon was as a -rehearsal of the infinitely more glorious triumph of the gospel of Christ. - -And now, dear brethren, to apply to our consciences the lesson before us, -let us examine into the work of faith and the power of faith in our own -souls. What do we know of conflict, what do we know of victory over the -Midianites in our hearts, even our own besetting sins? Have we left those -sins quietly in possession to degrade and enslave our souls, or have we -sought to fight the good fight? If we have attempted to throw off the -enemy’s yoke, how have we prepared ourselves for the battle? Our own -good resolutions, our trust in our own strength, our pride of conscious -virtue, these may have been as the forces that gathered at first around -Gideon, but not to those are the victory given. The triumph must be that, -not of human strength, but of God-bestowed _faith_. It was when St. Paul, -struggling with inward corruption, exclaimed, _O wretched man that I am, -who shall deliver me from the body of this death?_ that he was enabled to -add, _Thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus -Christ_! - -Again, the weapons with which we assault the enemy in his camp may find -their emblems in the torches and trumpets carried by Gideon’s band. -There is the loud alarm of conscience, sounding clear and distinct in -the soul, giving no uncertain sound. There are the precepts and promises -of Scripture, scattering the darkness around—_Thy Word is a lamp unto my -feet, and a light unto my path_; while often painful dispensations, the -shattering of human joys, the crash of the earthen vessels, make that -Word to shine to us with a brilliance unknown in the days of our joy. -But instead of the shout of Gideon, the Christian’s voice is raised in -prayer. It is the cry to the Lord for help that puts the Destroyer to -flight. Thus may we discomfit our spiritual foes, _more than conquerors_ -through Him that loved us,— - - “His grace our strength, our guide His word; - Our aim, the glory of the Lord!” - -How was it with the patriarch Abraham when his faith had to endure one -of the severest conflicts recorded in Scripture,—when he was commanded -to offer up the son whom he loved? Dark was the night around him, his -natural affections were enlisted on the enemy’s side; but conscience -sounded the call to obedience, while faith firmly grasped the promise, -_In Isaac shall thy seed be called_: so dashing down, as the earthen -vessels were dashed, any doubts or misgivings that would have obscured -the light of that promise, Abraham triumphed because he believed, and -received the reward of his faith. - -In such an instance as this, to return to the simile of the tree, we see -the ripe fruits of faith. The sun of God’s grace has shone so brightly, -the dew of His Spirit has rested so fully upon it, that we behold it at -length in all its sweetness, richness, and beauty. Christian brethren, be -content with nothing short of this. We see too many with whom it appears -as if their graces never would ripen. There is a crudeness, a hardness -about their religion, which, if it do not make us doubt its nature, at -least takes from it all its charm. Faith cannot be fully developed where -the softness of humility, the sweetness of charity, are unknown. It is of -the man who not only yields obedience to the commandments, but delights -in the law of the Lord, that it is written, _He shall be like a tree -planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his -season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth it shall -prosper_. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXI. - -BONDAGE. - - -“Look at them out of the window! no, indeed! If they are so anxious to -see their sister after a four years’ separation, let them come to her in -her chamber of sickness,” was Cora’s reply to an affectionate message -from the newly-arrived travellers conveyed to her through Isa. “Since -strangers are not afraid of infection,” she continued with a sneer, “it -shows that the danger may be braved even by those who have not, like -Arthur Madden, a reputation for heroic self-devotion.” - -“Still the bitterness—still the satire: can trial and sickness teach -her nothing?” thought Isa, as she left the room to send, in softened -form, the ungracious message of Cora to her brother and sister, who were -waiting in front of the house which they were forbidden to enter. Isa -had already explained to Cora how great would be to Arthur the useless -risk of a meeting, she had therefore felt it unnecessary to reply to a -sarcasm which was at once so ungenerous and unjust. - -Cora, against the remonstrances of her gentle nurses, had insisted on -rising and dressing. She was impatient of all restraint, and opposition -only made her irritable. The first moment that she found herself alone, -she walked up to the toilette-table and looked into the glass. For -several minutes Cora remained motionless, mutely staring into the too -faithful mirror, as if the frightful image which it contained had the -transfixing power of the Gorgon; then she slowly turned from it, with her -soul overflowing with bitterness. Miss Madden had possessed a certain -share of good looks, which her vanity had magnified into beauty; now -all had passed for ever away. Time, indeed, would remove much of the -disfigurement which made a once handsome countenance hideous, but Cora -knew too well that in her case time would never entirely efface the marks -left by the small-pox. Perhaps no woman in Cora’s position would have -been insensible to a trial such as this, but to one who had sought all -her happiness from the world, to whom its smile had been sunshine, the -trial was well-nigh intolerable. The loss of her personal attractions -was to Cora a greater affliction than that of her property had been. -Therefore was it that the heart of Cora was as a well of bitterness, full -to the brim and overflowing in rebellion against God, and malice against -her happier fellow-creatures. - -And was there no gratitude towards the generous girl who had not only -drawn, as it were, a sponge over the record of injuries past, but at the -cost of a painful sacrifice had acted the part of a sister towards her? -Did no feeling of tenderness arise in the bosom of Cora when she looked -on the bright lovely face which might so soon, for her sake, be marred -like her own? It might have been so, even with Cora Madden, had she not -chosen to regard the conduct of Isa, as well as that of Gaspar, as the -result of interested calculation. “They knew well enough,” she muttered -to herself, “that once under their roof they had me at an advantage. -Isa lavishes attentions on me as men pour water on gunpowder, when they -fear to be shattered by its explosion. It was folly in me to consent to -receive such hypocritical kindness; I wish that I had driven at once to -Axe. But I have the wit to penetrate their designs, and the spirit to -defeat them.” - -With this impression on her mind, Cora, on Isa’s re-entering her -apartment, at once addressed her in a tone of formal politeness,— - -“I shall also have to trouble you, Miss Gritton, with a message to -your brother. As soon as I have sufficient strength to go downstairs, -I shall request an interview with Mr. Gritton, that we may come to an -understanding on the unpleasant subject which I mentioned to him in my -note. Doubtless,” continued Cora with a sarcastic smile, “he will be -glad of an opportunity of showing me with what a tender regard for my -interests he, as my agent, always has acted.” - -Isa could make no reply; she did not trust herself even to look at -the countenance of Cora, but at once quitted the room to convey the -message to her brother. Scarcely had the door closed behind her when the -attention of Cora was attracted by the sound of loud cheers rising from -the direction of the little school which had been built by Arthur in -Wildwaste, the manly voices of workmen blending with the shriller huzzas -of the young. - -“What can the idle villagers be shouting for?” said Cora to herself as -she approached the window, and, concealing herself behind the muslin -curtain, looked down on the scene below. She saw the whole population of -Wildwaste—men, women, and children—gathered around an open carriage to -welcome back the benefactor of all. Even old Bolder, forgetful of his -infirmities, had dragged himself into the sunshine, to greet with hearty -joy the friend of the poor. Cora caught a glimpse of the face of her -brother, beaming with pure happiness, as he bent forward to recognize -familiar faces in the crowd. Cora turned away with an expression of scorn -on her lip, but a pang of envy at her heart. To whom would her presence -bring joy? from whom could she look for welcome, either in this world -or in the next? She had dwelt, like her brother, near Wildwaste; she -had enjoyed the same opportunities as Arthur of instructing the ignorant -and feeding the hungry. He had helped the poor—she had despised them; he -had found his happiness in doing his Master’s will—she had sought hers -in following her own. _Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness -for the upright in heart_; but on all that Cora had most prized was the -mournful sentence inscribed, _Vanity of vanities, all is vanity_. Malice, -worldliness, and pride now tormented the soul of Cora; these spiritual -foes had come to her first as the Midianites to Israel in the time of -Moses, not to alarm but to seduce. She had welcomed and harboured the -tempters till they remained as masters and tyrants within: she now felt -their yoke to be galling indeed. - -The spirit of Gaspar Gritton was also acutely sensible at this time of -the degradation of its bondage. The idea of the approaching interview -with Miss Madden oppressed him with a humiliating feeling of fear. Nor -was Gaspar free from care on the account of his sister. Isa’s gentleness -and unselfishness had had their natural effect in thawing that cold -ungenial heart, and an undefined terror arose in it that he might, by -pursuing his own interests, have sacrificed the life of the only being on -earth whom he loved. - -“Isa, you do not feel ill?” said Gaspar that evening to his sister, whom -he had been for some time watching in anxious silence. Isa was sitting -in the study, apparently engaged in reading, but it was long since she -had turned the page; her head was leaning on her hand, a vivid colour was -on her cheek, but her appearance denoted languor and weariness, and, when -Gaspar spoke, her large soft eyes had heavily closed, as if for slumber. - -“No, not exactly ill,” replied Isa, with a languid smile; “I have but a -little headache, and feel as if I wanted rest.” - -“God grant that you have not taken the infection!” - -“I was just thinking that if I should take it—and it is very possible -that I may do so—it would be well for me to speak a few words to you -before we are separated by illness or—or that in which illness might -end.” Isa had been silently praying for courage to make one effort -more—it might be the last—to persuade her unhappy brother to act a just -and honourable part. “I have told you our father’s last commands, oh, -let me join to them a sister’s entreaties. Gaspar, act towards Cora -Madden as you will wish that you had acted when you both stand before the -judgment-seat of God.” Isa spoke with emotion, and the feverish flush on -her cheek grew brighter than before. - -“What would you have me do?” asked Gaspar, in a low, agitated voice. - -“What conscience bids, what God’s Word directs,” replied Isa,—“make -restitution.” - -Gaspar rose and strode once or twice up and down the apartment with his -hands behind him; his brow furrowed with an anxious frown. Presently -he stopped short before his sister, whose soul was rising in silent -supplication for her tempted brother. - -“Isa, you ask too much. To refund that money would be to acknowledge that -it never ought to have been mine.” - -“But how will you then dare to meet face to face with one whom, I fear, -you have wronged?” - -“I’ll not meet Cora Madden—I’ll leave this place—I’ll go abroad!” said -Gaspar hurriedly, giving voice to a thought which had often recurred to -his mind. - -“And leave me?” cried Isa reproachfully. - -“You will be with relations who care for you; you will be in the Castle, -or—;” Gaspar stopped short, for a terrible thought flashed across him as -he looked at the drooping form of his sister, that she might find a yet -safer resting-place from sorrow and disgrace in the grave. - -[Illustration: ISA’S LAST APPEAL TO HER BROTHER.] - -Startled by the idea, as by a spectre, Gaspar insisted on Isa’s at once -retiring to seek the rest which she needed. She lingered, from the -feeling that she might not be able to rise in the morning; that the -languor and pain which she felt might be signs that the fatal fever was -already in her veins. Isa could not leave Gaspar without one more appeal -to the tempted one, whom—a secret foreboding voice seemed to whisper—she -was now for the last time addressing. Isa returned back from the door -to the spot where her brother was seated, softly laid her hand on his -shoulder, pressed her feverish lips on his brow, and then murmured, “O -Gaspar, fly not from duty! Whither can we go without having God and -our conscience still beside us?” After uttering this last warning, she -hastily quitted the room. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXII. - -THE NIGHT. - - -“O my Lord, do Thou direct and bless us. I cast all my cares upon -Thee.” It was with this prayer in her heart that Isa laid her aching -head on her pillow on that night. Cares had thickened around her: the -danger of disease, disfigurement, perhaps an early death, was looming -before her, yet Isa was not unhappy. Though scarcely able to frame a -connected prayer, never had the maiden approached the mercy-seat with -more childlike confidence than she did now. As the Christian goes from -strength to strength, Isa’s late victory over malice, resentment, and -self-will, had left a sweet sense of repose in the love and the wisdom of -God. Isa had risked her happiness for the sake of conscience; or rather, -she had placed her happiness in the hands of her Lord, where she felt it -to be safer than in her own. He would guard her from sickness, suffering, -and sorrow, or bless her in the midst of them all. God had given her—of -this Isa now felt a sweet assurance—the heart of one whose affection to -her outweighed the world. Even if it were God’s will that she should not -again on earth meet her Henry, the union of those who are one in Christ -is not for this life alone. Isa, and him whom she loved, had alike given -themselves unreservedly to their Lord: in life or in death they were His, -and no really good thing would their heavenly Father withhold from His -children. Isa’s faith had greatly ripened during the last few days. She -felt the sunshine on her soul—she felt the refreshing dew of God’s grace; -and a mellowed sweetness was the result—while peace mantled her soul -like the soft down on the peach, from whose surface the drops from the -bursting thunder-cloud trickle harmlessly away. - -Very different was it with the unhappy Gaspar. Little rest was to be his -during that night. He was in an agony of irresolution: Isa’s words had -not been without their effect. Sometimes he resolved to meet Cora with -an open confession, and throw himself on her generosity to shield his -character from reproach, while he made all the reparation in his power -for the injury which he had done her. Then stronger than ever came the -impulse to fly the country. He had enough of property on the premises -to enable him to live in comfort in some part of Europe where his -antecedents would be unknown. If he could not keep his plunder in England -from the grasp of the law, he would bear it thence, beyond reach of loss -or of shame. But would he be beyond the avenging arm of Divine Justice? -Might not that arm be raised at that very moment to smite him in the -person of his sister; to make her—the pure, the innocent, the generous—a -victim for the crime of her brother? - -The sound of footsteps in the sick-room above him made Gaspar restless -and uneasy: prognostications of evil disturbed him. When he fell at -length into a state of slumber, through his dreams sounded the measured -toll of the death-bell: a funeral seemed moving slowly before him, the -black plumes of the hearse nodding over the white-bordered pall. Gaspar -awoke with a start of terror, raised himself on his elbow, and gazed -around him. To his disordered fancy, it seemed as if the light, which was -always kept in his chamber at night, were burning blue; the shadows which -it cast on ceiling and wall took strange shapes, which appalled him, he -knew not why. The dimly-seen portrait of his father above the mantelpiece -seemed to Gaspar to look on him with stern and threatening eyes: as he -gazed, he could fancy that they moved, and, wild as he knew the fancy to -be, the idea made him strangely shiver. - -Hark! was there not a moving of bolts and bars in the study adjoining, -and a stealthy footstep heard on the creaking floor? Had Gaspar’s secret -been betrayed? Attracted by rich hoards of plunder, were robbers -entering the house? Mr. Gritton strained his ear and listened; till at -length, unable longer to endure uncertainty, he started up from his couch -and opened the door which divided his sleeping-room from the study. All -there was perfectly dark, perfectly still: if there had been any sound, -it must have been but caused by the night wind shaking the shutters or -moaning under the door. Gaspar could not, however, return to his bed: he -dressed, and, as he did so, marvelled to find his fingers trembling as if -from palsied age. - -Taking his candle to light him, Gaspar then proceeded to the vault which -contained his treasure. He had perhaps no very definite purpose in -visiting it, except that of removing a small sum required for household -expenses; yet there was a floating idea in his mind of ascertaining how -large a sum in gold he could convey away packed in so small a space as -not to excite suspicion. Lottie’s accidental discovery of the vault had -made her master more than usually on his guard against betraying his -secret to others. He therefore carefully closed the trap-door behind him -before descending the ladder, and as carefully closed the door which -divided the outer vault from the inner, when he had entered the latter, -the treasure-cave of his wealth. - -[Illustration: GASPAR AMONGST HIS TREASURES.] - -There stood the miser, in the midst of his hoards of silver and gold—a -lonely, miserable man. Those bags heavy with coin, won at the price of -conscience and honour, had no more power to give peace to his soul than -their hard, cold contents could afford nourishment to his frame. The -place felt damp, the air oppressive. A deathly chill came over Gaspar -Gritton. He had strange difficulty in unfastening the string round one of -his canvas bags. His fingers shook violently as he did so: he overthrew -the heavy bag, and had a dull perception that money was clinking and -falling and rolling around him in every direction. Gaspar stooped with -a vague intention of picking it up, but was utterly unable to find or -even to see the coin; and equally impossible was it for him to regain -his former standing posture. A strange numbness came over the unhappy -man: thought and feeling were alike suspended, and he lay for hours in a -senseless state on the damp, brick-paved floor, besprinkled with gold. - -Some degree of consciousness returned at last; but it was that strange -consciousness which may exist in a trance of catalepsy, such as that -which now enchained the faculties of Gaspar Gritton. He lay as one dead, -in the position in which he had fallen, unable to stir a muscle or to -utter a sound—unable to give the smallest outward sign of life. And yet -the mind was awake, alive to the horrors of his situation. Gaspar was -buried in the midst of his treasures, in the living grave which he had so -carefully prepared, so jealously concealed. Men would search for him, and -never find him. But would they even search? Gaspar recalled with anguish -the intention of sudden flight which he had expressed to his sister. She -who cared for him—she who loved him—she who, under other circumstances, -would never have rested until she had found him—would naturally conclude -from his own words that he had fled from fear of exposure, and would -not even make an attempt to discover the place of his retreat. It would -never be discovered till perhaps ages hence, when the edifice above had -crumbled away—the foundations might be dug up, and a nameless skeleton -found surrounded by heaps of money and treasures of silver plate. Gaspar -had meditated flying from duty, and stern judgment had arrested him on -the threshold. In the gloomy, silent vault the sinner was left alone with -God and his conscience. The candle which Gaspar had brought with him -burned down, flickered in the socket, went out. All was darkness, all -silence, all horror! It was as if the fearful sentence had already been -passed upon him who had been enslaved by the love of money,—_Your gold -and silver is cankered, and the rust of them shall be a witness against -you, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire; ye have heaped treasure -together for the last days._ - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -A SISTER’S VOICE. - - -Lottie had not been alarmed by not hearing from her mother, well knowing -that, though Mrs. Stone was able to read, she had never penned a letter -in the course of her life. Lottie talked cheerfully and hopefully to -Steady on the evening following that on which the last meeting had been -held, as they sat together by the little window after the work of the day -was over. - -“Now that Mr. Arthur has come back, it do seem as if everything were -a-brightening,” said she. “He’s getting over his sickness wonderful, -and I don’t believe as father’s was ever half so bad. Father will be -a-coming home too; and Mr. Arthur will speak a word for him—I’m sure that -he will—and get him work at the factory again, or maybe at the Castle. -Mother won’t need to work so hard, and we’ll have a nice little cottage -of our own, and not have to live in a lodging over a shop.” - -Brightly glowed the reflection of the setting sun on the windows of the -opposite side of the street; and Lottie’s black eyes, as she gazed on it, -seemed to have caught the cheerful gleam. But even as she looked, the sun -sank below the western horizon, the ruddy light gradually faded away, and -the gray hue of twilight succeeded. - -“There be mother!” suddenly exclaimed young Stone, rising quickly from -his seat, as with weary step a lonely woman turned the corner of the -street, bending as if under a heavy burden of years or sorrow, and never -once lifting her drooping eyes towards her home as she approached it. - -“Mother—alone! Oh, where—where has she left father?” exclaimed Lottie, -starting up and running to meet her. - -Deborah found the door open, and Lottie there with a look of eager -inquiry on her face. But no word was uttered; for the sight of her -mother’s countenance, and the scraps of shabby mourning which she wore, -took from the young, warm-hearted girl all power of speech. She followed -Deborah upstairs, thankful that Mrs. Green chanced to be at the moment -out of the way. - -“How’s father?” asked the son, who had met his mother on the staircase. - -Deborah made no reply, but entered the room, sank wearily on a chair, and -buried her face in her hands. She was a woman who seldom wept; but now -her whole frame shook with convulsive sobs. Lottie knelt down beside her, -looking up with anxious grief and fear into her mother’s face. She could -with difficulty catch the meaning of Mrs. Stone’s scarcely articulate -words: - -[Illustration: THE MOTHER’S RETURN.] - -“Thank God, at least I was in time to see him, to be with him, at the -last!” - -Then the widow raised her head, stretched out her arms, and drew sobbing -to her heart her two fatherless children. - -Yes, the long-cherished dream of hope was over; the erring -husband—forgiven, loved, and watched for—had returned to his native -shore to die. Stone had seen his injured wife, and breathed his last -sigh in her arms. Had he died a penitent? Deborah fondly clung to the -hope; and when she had a little regained her composure, repeated to her -children again and again every faintly-breathed sentence from the lips of -the dying man that could possibly be deemed an expression of penitence or -an utterance of prayer. Who could have borne to have quenched her hope, -or who would dare to say that the daily supplication of wife and children -for a wandering sinner had not been answered at last? - -As Deborah had hardly had one hour’s uninterrupted sleep during the -preceding week, she was almost overpowered by physical weariness as well -as by mental distress; and Lottie had little difficulty in persuading her -to go to bed at once. This was the poor widow’s only place of refuge from -the intrusion of her neighbours; for no sooner was it noised through Axe -that Mrs. Stone had returned home after attending the death-bed of her -husband, than some impelled by sympathy, some by mere curiosity, visited -her humble lodging, tormenting the weeping Lottie with questions, or -well-meant attempts at offering consolation. She was thankful to close -the door at last upon all, and with a very heavy heart prepare to go -herself to rest. - -“Shall we have just a bit of a prayer together, Steady, as we always -have?” said the poor girl, with a faltering voice. It had been the habit -of the brother and sister thus to pray, from the time when they had knelt -as children together in their cottage home at Wildwaste, perhaps to be -startled from their knees by the noisy entrance of a parent reeling home -from the ale-house. Steady was very quiet, almost stolid; he had had no -outburst of sorrow on hearing of the death of his father; perhaps those -miserable days at Wildwaste had left deeper memories on a mind more slow -to receive or to part with impressions; he had certainly never been -buoyed up with the same joyous hopes as his sister had been, and was -therefore less sensitive to disappointment. The lad knelt down without -reply, leaving, as usual, to Lottie the uttering of the simple prayer, to -which he was wont to add the closing Amen. - -“Pray God bless and keep dear—;” Lottie could go no further. Alas! who -has not felt how the first omission of a dear familiar name in prayer -brings vividly to the soul of the mourner the reality of that separation, -which, as regards this world, is softened by no hope. Lottie could only -sob, while her brother, slowly and very briefly, concluded the little -prayer. - -Lottie rose on the morrow with the feeling that there was a great blank -in her life; and yet it was not in the nature of things that she should -sorrow as long and as deeply for such a parent as Abner had been, as -for one who had faithfully fulfilled the duties of husband and father. -She resolved to devote herself more than ever to her mother; and was -almost glad, for her sake, that she herself had been obliged to leave -Wildwaste. The return of Arthur and Lina Madden from Palestine had -diverted the attention of gossips from the subject of Lottie’s mysterious -sovereigns, and as it was widely known that she had been seen on the box -of a carriage in which not only Arthur but Mr. Eardley had been seated, -slander itself was forced to own that “the gentlefolk, anyways, seemed to -know as how Lottie had come honestly by that money; though ’twas a pity, -it was, that she made such a mystery about it.” - -In the afternoon the unwelcome step of Mrs. Green was heard on the stair. -It was her third visit on that day to the widow’s little room, as she -had twice before bustled up “just to see if she could do nothing for the -poor soul,” as she said, but in reality to pick up scraps of gossip to -retail to the baker’s sisters and the linen-draper’s wife. This time, -however, Mrs. Green came up eager to impart news rather than to hear it. -Unceremoniously seating herself in the darkened room of sorrow in which -were the newly-made widow and her fatherless girl, she said to Lottie, -who was preparing the simple afternoon meal, “I say, Lottie Stone, I -think that there new house at Wildwaste is somehow bewitched! Here’s you -a-running away from it, you can’t or you won’t say why; and now there’s -its own master suddenly disappeared, and no one knows what’s become of -him.” - -“Disappeared!” echoed Lottie, in surprise. - -“Ay; no one’s seen nothing of him since last night, and all Wildwaste’s -in a commotion. He’d been to bed, too, that was clear; and no one saw -him leave the house in the morning; and Hannah says that she could take -her oath that the chain was up on the house-door when she went to it at -seven. But Mr. Gritton’s not in the Lodge; it’s been searched from top to -bottom.” - -“He’s been lost in the bog—like that miserable Dan Ford,” said Deborah, -gloomily. - -“No, not that,” replied Mrs. Green; “the bog’s not in a dangerous state -just now; we’ve had so much hot sunshine, that you might ride a horse -across the common from one end to the other.” - -“Is my dear lady much frightened about her brother?” asked Lottie, who -had been listening with breathless interest. - -“Not half so much frightened as one might expect, Hannah says; nor half -so much surprised at his disappearing. It seems as if she’d a notion -where he has gone, though she does not choose to tell what she knows. But -Miss Gritton ain’t very well, they says; depend on’t, she’s in for the -fever. There’s nothing in the world so catching as small-pox.” - -Lottie’s heart sank within her. - -“Mrs. Bolder thinks,” continued Mrs. Green, “that Mr. Gritton has just -gone off to Lunnon to be out of the way of infection; but it’s odd enough -that he should have gone away without his hat, for that’s hanging up in -the hall; and its odder still that he should have been pulling about the -furniture like a madman. Hannah told Mrs. Bolder, though she did not say -a word of it to trouble Miss Gritton, that she found the study in strange -disorder—the table pulled out of its place, the very drugget rolled up!” - -Lottie was hardly able to stifle the sudden exclamation which rose to her -lips. - -Having unburdened herself of her news, Mrs. Green suddenly remembered -that her kettle would be boiling over, and bustled out of the room. -Lottie waited impatiently for a few seconds, till she was certain that -the landlady was out of hearing, and then with energy exclaimed, “Mother, -mother, I must be off to Wildwaste; I’m sure and certain I’m wanted.” - -“I’m sorry you ever left your good place there, Lottie; maybe they -would not take you back now,” said Deborah sadly. As Lottie had had the -small-pox in her childhood, her mother did not fear her catching the -complaint. - -“Whether they will take me back or not, mother, I must go,” said Lottie -emphatically; “master’s lost—maybe I’ll find him!” and hurriedly, -as if every moment were precious, she took down from their peg her -straw-bonnet and cloak. - -“It’s getting on in the day, my child, and a walk to Wildwaste is a deal -too long for you now. To-morrow I’ll get the baker to take you in his -cart—at least a good bit of the way.” - -Lottie clasped her hands with a look of anxious entreaty. “Don’t stay me, -mother, don’t stay me. If Wildwaste were twice as far off, I’d walk all -the same. I can’t stop till to-morrow; I should not close an eye all the -night!” - -Deborah had never before known her young daughter’s mind so resolutely -bent upon any course; she saw that some very urgent motive indeed -was drawing Lottie towards Wildwaste. She believed this motive to be -affection towards her young mistress, and gave up opposing the wishes -of her child; only insisting on her taking with her a small bundle of -clothes, and refreshing herself by a cup of tea before she started. In -less than a quarter of an hour Lottie was hastening on her way towards -Wildwaste. - -“It’s all clear to me,” murmured the girl to herself, as she rapidly -walked along the street; “master has gone down into that dismal place to -look after his money, and somehow he has locked himself in and cannot -get out; and no one thinks of looking for him there; and so he’ll be -starved to death, or maybe go right mad in that horrible vault. Hannah -is hard of hearing—if he called ever so loud she’d never hear him in the -kitchen; and my lady is upstairs, so his voice would never reach her. It -makes one’s blood cold to think of his trying to get help, and shouting -and calling, and never a soul going near him! I must go and tell those -who are searching where to look.” Lottie had been walking very fast, but -she slackened her pace as a difficulty occurred to her mind. “But I must -not tell any one of that vault—no, not even Miss Isa; have I not solemnly -promised to keep the secret? I must go down myself all alone to that -gloomy place. But what if master should be hiding there on purpose; or -if some one should come on a sudden and find me down there amongst all -the silver and gold, might I not be taken for a thief? I have suffered -so much already, I could not abide any more of these cruel suspicions; -and maybe I’d be sent to prison this time, and that would break mother’s -heart altogether.” The simple girl was so much startled by the images -of terror called up by her excited fancy, that for a moment she felt -inclined to turn back. “Suppose I tell Miss Isa—only Miss Isa; that would -keep my character clear; and it cannot do harm for her to know where her -own brother hoards all his money. But that promise—that fatal promise! -What would the Lord have me to do? It is so miserable to be able to ask -advice of no one, not even of my own dear mother! I seem going right -into the darkness—but then, as Mr. Eardley would say, I’ve the trumpet -of conscience, and the light of the Word, and the Lord Himself will guide -me, and make me triumph over all difficulties, if I put my firm trust in -Him. It seems so wonderful that the glorious King of Heaven should think -of or care for a poor ignorant child like me!” - -The shades of evening were gathering around her before the weary Lottie -trod the well-known path over the common that led to Wildwaste Lodge. -She looked up anxiously at the windows as she approached the house; she -was uneasy regarding the health of her dear young mistress. When Hannah, -after tedious delay, answered Lottie’s timid ring at the door-bell, her -first anxious question was, “Oh, tell me, how is Miss Isa?” Lottie had -to repeat it, for the old servant seemed more deaf, as well as more -ill-tempered than usual. - -“She has a headache—natural enough, turning herself into a sick-nurse -for a stranger as gives more trouble than thanks. And she’s a worritting -after master, who has disappeared, no one knows how. But what brings you -back, like a bad halfpenny, Lottie?” added the peevish old woman; “you -chose to take yourself off without warning, leaving all the work of the -house on my hands, and now you may just keep away—there’s no one as wants -you here!” and Hannah almost shut the door in the face of the girl. - -“Let me in—for just this night—oh, let me in. I’ve walked all the six -miles from Axe; I can’t go back in the dark all alone!” pleaded Lottie, -whose brow and lip were moist with toil-drops, and who felt the absolute -necessity of searching the vault without the delay of another hour. -“Hannah, I’ll work like a slave; I’ll do anything that you bid me; just -speak a word for me to my mistress, pray her to let me stop, at least—at -least till the morning.” - -“How can I be worritting Miss Isa, with asking any-think for the like -of you,” said Hannah ungraciously, opening the door, however, a little -wider, so as to give admittance to Lottie. “You may go there into the -kitchen—everything there wants cleaning and looking arter, for not a -minute have I had to myself this blessed day, what with the fetching and -carrying upstairs, downstairs, and all the stir about master, which has -turned the house upside down. There—you get water from the pump, and fill -the kettle, and wash up the plates, while I go up with the medicine; -there’s Miss Madden’s bell ringing like mad!” - -Lottie retired to the kitchen, but neither to rest nor to work. After -listening for a few moments to the slow step of the old servant as -she mounted the stairs, grumbling at every step, the girl seized her -opportunity, and darted into the study. The table had not been drawn back -to its place, the brown drugget lay as Gaspar had left it; but though -Lottie knew the situation of the trap-door in the floor, she could not at -once discover it, either owing to the opening being so well concealed, -or from her own nervous haste causing confusion in her mind. Having at -last, rather by feeling than by sight, found the portion of the planks -that could be moved, Lottie lifted the trap-door and again timidly gazed -down into the darkness below. Before she ventured to descend she paused -and listened, to make certain that Hannah was still upstairs. She heard -the woman’s heavy step in the room above, and then, feeling that every -minute was precious, Lottie hastily descended the ladder. Not having -brought a light with her, and the vault being utterly dark, the girl had -to grope to find the handle of that inner door which Gaspar had closed, -but not locked, behind him. Lottie pressed against the door, but felt -that something within resisted her efforts to push it open. She used more -strength, pressing with knee and shoulder; the resisting body, whatever -it might be, yielded a little under her efforts. There was an opening -sufficiently wide to admit the girl’s hand. Lottie sank on her knees, and -put down her hand in order to feel what was the nature of the obstruction -which the darkness prevented her from seeing, and uttered a shriek of -horror upon touching a clammy human face! A frightful conviction flashed -on her mind that her master had been murdered for his money, and that it -was his corpse which lay within the vault. - -“Oh, they’ve killed him!” she exclaimed aloud in accents of terror, -starting to her feet, as she uttered the exclamation of fear. - -“Killed whom?—in mercy speak!” cried the agonized voice of Isa from -above. Miss Gritton had chanced to enter the study in search of some -papers, and was with astonishment bending over the open trap-door, when -she caught the sound of the terrible words from below. Isa could scarcely -see the top rounds of the ladder, so obscure had the twilight become; she -knew not whither it might lead, or what horrors might lie at the bottom, -yet she hesitated not for one instant, and almost before the sound of her -terrified question had died away, she was at the side of Lottie in the -utter darkness of the vault. - -“Master has been murdered!” gasped the young maid. Gaspar could hear her -exclamation distinctly, but was unable to speak a word in reply. - -“Gaspar—O my brother!” cried Isa, in a tone of piercing distress. - -That cry from the lips of a sister broke the spell of the strange trance -with which Gaspar Gritton had been bound. During all the long hours of -his terrible imprisonment he had been unable to stir or to make the -least sound; and though he was conscious of Lottie’s presence when she -touched him, and could hear her voice, he had still remained as it were -dead, helpless as a corpse in his living grave. But to Isa’s call, to his -inexpressible relief, Gaspar was able to answer; the hitherto paralyzed -limbs stirred with life, and with a murmured “God be praised!” he awoke -from what appeared to him like a dream of unutterable horror. - -[Illustration: FOUND IN THE VAULT.] - -But Gaspar’s powers were in a very feeble state; he was unable at first -even to move far enough from the door which divided him from his sister -for it to be opened sufficiently wide to admit of her passing through. - -“Oh, for a light!” exclaimed Isa; then hearing Hannah’s step in the -study above, she called out loudly, “Bring light—help—quick, quick—your -master’s dying down here in the vault!” - -Some minutes of terrible anxiety followed; Isa dreaded to see what light -might reveal, for the idea of murder, first suggested by Lottie, was -uppermost in her mind. Hannah had rushed towards the hamlet to summon -aid; Isa sent Lottie up the ladder for a light; the girl had hardly -procured it when the hall of the Lodge was filled with a party of -workmen, whom Hannah’s loud call for assistance had brought to the house. - -By the help of the men’s strong arms, Mr. Gritton was carried up from his -gloomy prison-vault, and laid on his bed. Thankful indeed was Isa to find -that her brother was unwounded, and apparently unhurt, though in a very -weak and nervous condition. She neither questioned him, nor suffered him -to be questioned, but she marked the glances of surprise and suspicion -exchanged between the workmen, who had seen what they were never designed -to see, and learned what they were never intended to know. Gaspar’s -secret was a secret no longer, except as regarded his way of acquiring -the hoards of treasure, of which an exaggerated account spread through -all the hamlet before the morning. - -Having thanked, rewarded, and dismissed the workmen, Isa sat for hours -watching by her brother, and listening to a confession from his lips -which filled her heart with mingled grief, shame, thankfulness, and hope. - -There are some men whom judgments only harden—a thunderbolt might -shatter, but it never would melt them—Gaspar’s nature resembled not -such. He felt on that solemn night much as Dives might have felt had his -tortured spirit received a reprieve, and been permitted once more to -dwell upon earth. He had been given a glimpse, as if by the lurid light -of the devouring flame, of the utter worthlessness of all for which man -would exchange his immortal soul. The impression might become weakened by -time, but upon that night it was strong. Gaspar unburdened his soul to -his sister; he told her all, even to Lottie’s discovery of the treasure, -and besought Isa’s counsel in the difficult strait into which his -covetousness had brought him. - -Confession—reparation! From these Gaspar shrank, as the patient from the -knife of the surgeon. Could no milder remedy be found, could there be -no compromise with conscience? Isa dared suggest none, though she would -have given all that she possessed on earth to save her brother from -the bitter humiliation of acknowledging to Cora Madden the base fraud -which he had committed. The strength of Isa’s faith and obedience was -brought to painful proof on that night. If she had yielded but a point, -if she had counselled delay, if she had administered an opiate to the -tortured conscience of her brother, as all her tender woman’s nature, -ay, and all her woman’s pride, pleaded for her to do, Gaspar would, -like Felix, have put off the hated duty for a more convenient season, -and the precious moment for action would have passed away for ever. But -Isa had the fear of God before her eyes; she had a keen perception that -this was a crisis in the spiritual life of her brother, that his soul’s -interests for eternity might hang on the result of his decision on that -night. Her voice had aroused him from the death-like stupor of the body, -her voice was to be also the means of quickening the lethargic soul. The -whisper of delay in his case could but be the breathing of the enemy who -would lure him to destruction. Isa reminded Gaspar of the resolution of -Zaccheus, when he had received the Lord into his home and his heart: it -was not “I will give,” but _I give_; it was not “I will restore,” but _I -restore_. Gaspar was irresolute, undecided, but his good angel was beside -him to help his weak nature in the great mental conflict. It was almost -midnight before that trying interview ended, and the brother and sister -separated, the one to sink into a troubled slumber, the other to return -to the chamber of Cora, intrusted by Gaspar with the responsible and most -painful charge of making for him that humiliating confession which he -himself had not the courage to make. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -A TRIUMPH. - - -With a very slow step, aching heart, and knees that trembled beneath -her, Isa reascended the staircase. One apparently insuperable difficulty -had been overcome,—Gaspar had consented to make full reparation. Isa -could feel thankful for this; but she had now a breathing-space for -consideration, and with inexpressible repugnance she now recoiled from -the task set before her. It had been hard to banish from her heart -resentful emotions in regard to Cora; it had been hard to Isa to receive -an enemy into her home, to tend her as a sister, to risk health and -life in her service. But there had been nothing to wound pride in all -this; on the contrary, Isa had stood in the elevated position of a -benefactress, as one enjoying the noblest kind of revenge by repaying -injuries with kindness. The consciousness of this had brought a feeling -of gratification. But her position was painfully altered now. Isa -must humble herself in the presence of a woman whom she neither loved -nor respected; she must, as the representative of her brother, confess -guilt—ask for forgiveness—plead for mercy! Isa stopped half-way on the -stairs, supporting herself on the banister, for every fibre in her frame -was trembling with strong emotion. She had ventured, as it were, to the -outskirts of the camp of Midian, and felt that she lacked courage to -strike the final blow for freedom. A silent cry for help arose to heaven -from the depths of a suffering heart. - -Cora was one to whom it would be especially painful to make a confession -such as that which burdened the soul of Isa. Miss Madden had been brought -much into contact with the world, had imbibed its spirit, and adopted -one of its most dangerous ideas,—namely, a disbelief in the existence -of faith as a ruling motive. Notwithstanding the noble example of piety -which she had had before her in her own brother, Cora had persisted in -regarding all men as governed either by self-interest or the love of -approbation. - -“Sir Robert Walpole said, and said truly,” Cora had once lightly -observed, “that every man has his price; only some will have it told down -in hard cash, and others are quite contented with the paper-money of -praise.” - -Thus Cora refused to see the reflected glory of the Saviour in His -people: however brightly their light might shine, she believed that it -was fed from an earthly source, and eagerly caught at every instance of -inconsistency in the servants of God to confirm her theory that they only -wore piety as a mask, and, in fact, were much the same with the show of -religion as the rest of the world were without it. - -It was this fallacy more than anything else that had hardened the heart -of Cora, and made her justify herself in her own indifference towards -spiritual things. She would draw down all to the same low level as -herself, and thus hope to escape condemnation in a crowd. Cora’s chilling -disbelief in the practical influence of faith had been shaken when she -had first been admitted into the home of Isa Gritton while suffering from -an infectious complaint. The ice which the world had encrusted round her -heart had given some signs of melting. Then the idea that the Grittons -were, after all, only acting from self-interest, had almost restored her -frigid scepticism; she would not recognize the reality and the power of -that faith which worketh by love. The sudden and strange disappearance -of Gaspar had confirmed Cora in her impressions. “He flies me because he -fears me,” was the reflection of the proud woman; and the insolence of -her spirit had broken out even in the presence of the anxious sister. -“Perhaps Miss Gritton has an idea not only whither, but for what cause, -her brother had so suddenly vanished from this neighbourhood,” had been -Cora’s sneering remark. - -And yet, with all her bitterness and worldliness of spirit, Cora was -capable of more generous feeling. She was a woman, and, like a woman, -could cherish disinterested affection. Cora keenly felt her own isolation -in life, that isolation which she feared that her personal disfigurement -would now render perpetual. She had cut herself off from the proffered -affection of Arthur and Lina; she had quarrelled with Lionel’s wife; she -had many acquaintances, but was painfully aware that she had never made -one true friend. Cora, especially during her illness, had often yearned -for the love of a gentle, sympathizing heart, and something of gratitude, -something of admiration, had drawn her towards Isa Gritton. - -“How ill Miss Gritton looks to-night; I fear that she is sickening for -the fever,” Mrs. Holdich had observed, on Isa’s quitting the room to -go and search for papers in the study, at the time when, as the reader -knows, Lottie was exploring the vault. - -The observation had inflicted a sharp pang on Cora; she was startled on -realizing the possibility that Isa’s life might indeed be given for her -own, and a contrast would suggest itself between the comparative value -of those lives. Isa, as Cora knew from Rebekah Holdich, was the light of -her brother’s home, the gentle benefactress of the poor, and, as Cora -was at that very time experiencing, a generous friend to those who needed -her aid. In her, more than in any one else, Cora had caught a glimpse -of the beauty of holiness; in her, more than in any one else, Cora had -been almost forced to recognize the power of faith; and at that moment -the proud, cold woman felt that there was one being on earth whom she -could love, one whom she could not endure to see fall a sacrifice to her -generous kindness to herself. - -Cora’s bitter but salutary reflections were interrupted by the noise and -excitement below, which followed the discovery of Gaspar Gritton in the -vault. The loud call of Hannah for assistance was distinctly heard in -the upper rooms occupied by Miss Madden; and Cora sent down Mrs. Holdich -in haste to ascertain the cause of such an unusual disturbance. Rebekah -did not return for a considerable time, and Cora grew so impatient that -she could hardly restrain herself from hurrying downstairs. Mrs. Holdich -came at last with the information that Mr. Gritton had been found in -an insensible state in a vault, that he had been removed to his own -apartment, and that his sister was carefully tending him there. This -was all which Cora could learn from Rebekah, and it did not satisfy her -thirst for information; she determined not to retire to rest until she -had seen Isa Gritton. To beguile the time, Cora went up to Isa’s little -bookcase, hoping to find there some light reading to amuse herself with. -One volume, from the elegance of its binding, attracted Miss Madden’s -attention, and she drew it forth from its place. It contained no work -of fiction, as Cora had hoped and expected, but a selection of hymns. -At another time Cora would have replaced the book, with perhaps an -expression of scorn; but she was in a softened mood on that night, and -her eye was attracted by the marking and double-marking on the margin of -many of the pages. Chiefly from curiosity, but possibly from a better -motive, Miss Madden carried the book to the place where she usually sat -on her soft-cushioned chair, seated herself, and began to read in a -desultory way. - -One of the hymns which had been most strongly marked by Isa was the -well-known one commencing with the line,— - - “And dost thou say, Ask what thou wilt?” - -This hymn was an especial favourite with Isa, who knew it by heart; but -the proud, selfish woman who now perused it, in the stillness of night -and the seclusion of a sick-room, seemed to be introduced into a new -world of sensation as she read the lines, which express a Christian’s -most fervent desire: - - “More of Thy presence, Lord, impart, - More of Thine image let me bear; - Enthrone Thyself within my heart, - And reign without a rival there. - - “Grant this request, I ask no more, - But to Thy care the rest resign;— - Sick, or in health, or rich, or poor, - All shall be well if Thou art mine.” - -“Can it be that any human being really feels this?” thought Cora, half -closing the volume. “I cannot believe it. And yet Isa Gritton has acted -as if she felt it. But no, no—she is at this moment playing the part of -an accomplice of her money-loving brother. Her faith may make her like -such a book as this, mark it, perhaps cry over it; it may give her that -gentleness and kindliness which have half won me over to love her in -spite of myself; it may—yes, it may possibly have some effect in taking -away the fear of losing beauty, or even life; but when it comes to the -question of its requiring such integrity of conduct as would involve -loss and disgrace, faith will find it expedient to confine itself to -sentimental devotion, and the saint will come forth from the closet to -act in the world—as the children of the world always act.” - -A gentle hand noiselessly turned the handle of the door, and Isa glided -into the room. She was surprised to see Cora still awake and sitting up -at the midnight hour. - -“I thought that I should have found my patient asleep,” she observed. - -“I could not have slept till I had seen you; I wanted to hear about your -brother.” - -Isa rather sank than seated herself upon a chair; a cold shiver ran -through her frame; she knew not if the overpowering sensations which -oppressed her arose only from the reaction after painful excitement, or -if she were indeed sickening for a terrible complaint. - -“I may be delirious ere morning,” thought Isa; “I must speak now, or I -never may have power to speak. May it not be deemed providential that I -am given an opportunity of confession by this midnight interview with -Cora!” - -“Miss Gritton, you look sadly ill,” said Cora, with more of sympathy than -Isa had ever before heard in her tone. “Are you very anxious regarding -your brother?” - -“I am very anxious indeed,” replied Isa faintly, glancing at the closed -door which divided the ladies from the room in which Mrs. Holdich was -resting, to be sure that no ear but Cora’s should hear what she was -bracing up her courage to say. “Miss Madden, I have come charged with a -message to you from Gaspar.” Isa paused, for she was very breathless; -her heart fluttered—she had a strange difficulty in articulating her -words; she dared not look up and meet the keen gaze which she was -certain was fixed upon her. “My brother believes—feels sure—that there -is no evidence which could be produced in a court of law which could -bring home to him that—that of which you have been led to suspect him.” -Another very painful pause; Isa pressed her hand to her side to still -the throbbing of her heart. “But,” she continued with an effort, “Gaspar -knows—owns—that though man cannot convict, there is a higher tribunal -than man’s, and before it he cannot plead his innocence. It was indeed -not your property which was lost in the _Orissa_—your money is in the -hands of my brother, and shall be restored, principal and interest; -you shall have ample satisfaction as far as gold can give it. And oh, -Cora—Miss Madden—will not this compensation suffice? will you not forgive -all the past, and spare the reputation of him who thus throws himself on -your indulgence? will you not shield from reproach one who is ready amply -to redeem the wrong committed under strong temptation, and show your -generosity by burying this unhappy affair in silence and oblivion?” - -Isa clasped her hands as she spoke in the fervour of her pleading; her -eyes suddenly raised met those of Cora, and to her surprise beheld them -brimming over with tears. - -Cora rose from her seat. “O Isa,” she exclaimed, “fear nothing from me! -Had the wrong been tenfold, I have learned from you how to forgive—and -much besides!” And with a burst of emotion, which all her pride could -not restrain, Cora threw her arms around Isa, who found herself, to her -great astonishment, pressed to the heart of one who had been her bitter, -malignant enemy. - -[Illustration: THE CONFESSION.] - -The victories of faith are not only over inward foes: when the ways of a -man are pleasing to the Lord, He maketh even his enemies to be at peace -with him. Isa, in her gentleness and Christian sympathy, her uprightness, -her obedience to the call of duty, had done more to lead her proud, -erring heart to repentance than all the sermons which had fallen on the -ear of Cora like seed on the trodden wayside. Cora had never realized -how far she herself was from being a Christian, till she had seen -exemplified in one of her own sex and station what a Christian should be. -It was in the hour when Isa felt humiliated, covered with shame for the -errors of a brother, that she had forced from proud lips that tribute to -her character which was in itself an acknowledgment of inferiority such -as no being had ever before wrung from Cora Madden. Isa had won a noble -triumph—she had conquered the heart of her foe. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXV. - - -There was much excitement in Wildwaste relative to the occurrences -of that night. Various rumours spread, with more or less of truth -in them, concerning Gaspar Gritton, and the strange way in which he -had been discovered lying in a lifeless state in a mysterious vault -full of treasure. As Lottie was reinstated in her place, and Cora was -convalescent, the services of Mrs. Holdich were no longer required; the -steward’s wife—after changing her infected garments—returned to her -home, where she was besieged by curious inquirers. Rebekah smiled at the -strange exaggerations which had spread around, like widening circles -on a lake into which a pebble has been thrown. It was true, she said, -that Lottie had performed an important service, had been the means of -preserving her master’s life, for which she would be liberally rewarded; -but as regarded the vault and its mysterious contents, Rebekah maintained -a placid silence. She had a note from Isa to convey to the Castle, in -which Arthur and Lina Madden were now residing as the baronet’s guests. -The result of that note was, that Holdich appeared that afternoon at -Wildwaste Lodge, equipped for a journey to London, part of his equipment -being a pair of loaded revolvers. Crowds of workmen and their families -thronged before the Lodge, curiously watching the door through which were -borne iron boxes, very heavy in proportion to their size, and believed to -contain treasures of plate and bullion sufficient to buy up the village. -With emotions of intense relief and deep thankfulness Isa watched from -the window the departure of the cart for the station, with the sturdy -steward seated on one of the boxes within it, keeping faithful watch over -his dangerous charge. It was not only because in that lawless part of the -country the Lodge would scarcely have been a safe residence when known to -contain a treasure, that Isa rejoiced in its departure; it was because -she looked on that ill-gotten gold much as our ancestors looked upon the -barrels of gunpowder buried in a vault beneath Parliament-house by an -insidious and cruel foe. It had been placed there not to enrich, but to -destroy; not as a blessing, but a curse;—_an enemy hath done this_. From -the days of Achan unto our own, there is a woe for him who heapeth up -riches unrighteously won. - -No one from the Lodge appeared at the steward’s cottage on that evening, -and he himself was absent on his mission to London; but Edith Lestrange -and her guests came from the Castle to attend Mr. Eardley’s closing -lecture on the “Triumph over Midian.” - - -LECTURE VII.—FAITH CROWNED. - -The men of Ephraim, as was mentioned at our last meeting, had encountered -some of the fugitives of Midian, had slain two of their princes, and -brought their heads to Gideon. But the Ephraimites, men of a warlike -tribe, were angry at having been appointed but a secondary part; they -were indignant at the chief honour, as well as the chief danger, of the -struggle having been assigned to Gideon’s three hundred heroes. - -“Why hast thou served us thus,” they fiercely exclaimed to the leader, -“that thou calledst us not when thou wentest to fight the Midianites?” -They came full of jealous resentment; and instead of rejoicing in the -triumph, chafed at not having sooner been permitted to share it. - -_Only by pride cometh contention; with the lowly is wisdom._ Gideon, -humble in the midst of his marvellous success, experienced the power of -the soft answer to turn away wrath. He said unto the indignant warriors, -_What have I done now in comparison of you? Is not the gleaning of the -grapes of Ephraim better than the vintage of Abiezer? God hath delivered -into your hands the princes of Midian, Oreb and Zeeb: and what was I -able to do in comparison of you? Then, adds the sacred narrative, their -anger was abated towards him._ - -[Illustration: GIDEON AND THE EPHRAIMITES.] - -But it was not with the proud sons of Ephraim, but with his own band, -the chosen of God, that Gideon completed his victory by following up the -pursuit beyond Jordan. They held a commission from the Most High, and -exchanging their trumpets and torches for weapons of war, _faint, yet -pursuing_, they pressed on. Weary and hungry were the brave warriors of -Gideon; they lacked refreshment to renew their failing strength, but that -refreshment was cruelly withheld, first by the men of Succoth, and then -by those of Penuel, from whom Gideon had craved the much-needed supplies. -These inhabitants of Succoth and Penuel, sons of Israel unworthy of the -name, afterwards received the punishment due for their indifference to a -holy cause—their base inhospitable neglect of those bearing the burden -and heat of the conflict. - -And can we find none even in a Christian land whose conduct closely -resembles that of the men of Succoth and Penuel? The missionaries of the -Cross are engaged in a long and arduous struggle to carry the banner of -their Lord into the strongholds of heathen error. They are a small and, -as regards numbers, a feeble band; they need support and sympathy from -those who dwell at ease in their peaceful homes. For them their heavenly -Leader deigns to ask the aid of their brethren. In the words of Gideon -we seem to hear the Lord’s _Give, I pray you, loaves of bread unto -the people that follow me, for they be faint_. And how is that appeal -received by the greater number of those who call themselves Christians? -Some, indeed, rejoice to bring out their offerings; they deem it an -honour to be permitted to give from their stores and refresh the fainting -powers of those who are foremost in fighting the good fight of faith. To -these how sweet the Saviour’s promise to His disciples: _Whosoever shall -give you a cup of water to drink in My name, because ye belong to Christ, -verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward_. - -But shall not the multitudes who give no aid to the servants of God, who -share the guilt of Penuel and Succoth, fear to share their punishment -also? It is lack of faith that hardens the heart, that closes the hand; -for who could refuse to give—give largely, give to the utmost of his -power—if he really _believed_ that at the last day those who have turned -a deaf ear to the appeal of the weary, shall hear from the lips of the -Eternal Judge the terrible words, _Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of -the least of these, ye did it not to Me. Depart from Me, ye cursed!_ - -Faint, yet pursuing, Gideon and his band followed on the track of Zebah -and Zalmunna, the kings of Midian. These, with about fifteen thousand -men who had escaped from the slaughter which followed the sounding of -the trumpets, had reached Karkor, and believed themselves there to be -secure from further attack. _Faint, but pursuing._ Thus, in his life-long -warfare against sin, presses on the Christian from grace to grace, till -God receives him to glory. He must not sheathe the sword of the Spirit -while one evil passion remains unsubdued; he must not relax his efforts -till the Almighty himself perfect the victory within him, and call him -to inherit the kingdom above. We may have much to discourage us, much to -try our courage and patience; it is not by one effort, however great, -that the yoke of Midian can be broken, that faith can finally triumph -over corruption within. _Let patience leave its perfect work_; however -long and arduous may be the pursuit, God can uphold, strengthen, and -bless us, as in His name and for His sake we struggle on, _faint, yet -pursuing_. - -Complete success crowned the efforts of Gideon. He came up with the men -of Midian, discomfited all their host, and took captive their kings Zebah -and Zalmunna. As they were not of the doomed races of Canaan, the leader -of Israel would have spared these foes, had they not been stained with -the blood of his brethren, whom, by the Midianites’ own confession, they -had slain at Tabor. Gideon was by law the avenger of this blood. The -sacred record gives us a striking glimpse of the way in which justice -was satisfied in that remote age—the brief investigation, and the prompt -execution by the hand of the near of kin, according to the commandment of -Moses: _The murderer shall surely be put to death; the revenger of blood -himself shall slay the murderer; when he meeteth him, he shall slay him_ -(Num. xxxv. 18, 19). Gideon inquired of Zebah and Zalmunna, “What manner -of men were they whom ye slew at Tabor?” evidently alluding to some -well-known act of violence. And the princes made answer, “As thou art, -so were they; each one resembled the children of a king.” And he said, -“They were my brethren, even the sons of my mother: as the Lord liveth, -if ye had saved them alive, I would not slay you.” - -Gideon then commanded his first-born to fulfil the stern duty of the -avenger of blood; but the youth shrank from the office. “Rise thou, and -fall upon us,” cried the bold sons of Midian to Gideon; “for as the man -is, so is his strength.” By the hand of their conqueror, therefore, Zebah -and Zalmunna met the fate which their crimes had deserved. - -The victories of Gideon, his great services rendered to his country, had -won for him the enthusiastic admiration and gratitude of the people whom -he had freed from the enemy’s yoke. Nothing was deemed by his countrymen -too great a reward for the hero who had delivered them. Let him who had -saved Israel become the head of the nation, the first of a dynasty of -rulers. The men of Israel said unto Gideon, “Rule thou over us, both -thou, and thy son, and thy son’s son also; for thou hast delivered us -from the hand of Midian.” - -But Gideon’s had been the triumph of faith, not the proud struggle of -ambition. He desired no crown; he would mount no throne; the Lord God of -Hosts alone should be the King of Israel. “I will not rule over you,” -said Gideon; “neither shall my son rule over you: the Lord shall rule -over you.” It is to God alone that belongeth the power and the glory; it -was God who had smitten down Midian, and Gideon, great in humility as in -his faith, gave the honour to God. Rich was the blessing that followed, -as recorded in the page of Scripture, _Thus was Midian subdued before the -children of Israel, so that they lifted up their heads no more. And the -country was in quietness forty years in the days of Gideon._ - -We have seen in the history before us the tree of faith budding, bearing -fair blossoms, and then its fruits gradually ripening into perfection. -We now see, as it were, those precious fruits gathered and laid as an -offering upon the altar of the Lord. The Saviour _shall come to be -glorified in His saints, and admired in all them that believe_; the -harvest is His, His servants lay its treasures at His feet. - -And what is the practical lesson, my brethren, left on our minds by -the record of the perils, the exploits, and the success of Gideon? Can -we trace in it any likeness to the experience of our own soul? Have we -received the angel’s visit, heard the promise, obeyed the command? Have -we thrown down the idolatrous shrine in the spirit breathed in the words -of the poet,— - - “The dearest idol I have known, - Whate’er that idol be, - Help me to tear it from its throne, - And worship only Thee.” - -Have we trusted to God alone to strengthen us for the conflict with sin -by the grace of His Holy Spirit, and with His Word in our hands have we -invaded the enemy’s camp, and pursued him with earnest self-denying zeal? -Have we fought and conquered our Midianites by the power of living faith? - -Or, to change the metaphor, has faith been with us as the blighted tree, -on which the sunshine falls in vain, which stands a bare form, a lifeless -thing, when spring clothes all around it with verdure? Has the Lord of -the vineyard said of it, _Lo, these three_, or ten, or twenty _years I -come seeking fruit, and finding none. Cut it down; why cumbereth it the -ground?_ Oh, my brethren, that faith which is shown not by deeds, that -faith which works not by love, is _not_ the faith which is firmly rooted -in the Rock of Ages. A cold assent of the reason is not faith, a lifeless -profession is not faith; that is faith which beareth good fruits—that -which, like the faith of Gideon, overcometh the enemy. - -We have to pursue our Midianites to the Jordan, but not beyond Jordan. -At the fords of the “narrow stream of death” the last enemy will perish -for ever. Into the bright land beyond, Disappointment, Discontent cannot -enter; for there is the fulness of joy and pleasures for evermore. -Dissension is unknown where every look and thought are love; nor can -the shadow of Distrust fall in the realm of eternal light, for the -servants of Christ shall _see Him as He is_, and dwell with Him in bliss -everlasting. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -CONCLUSION. - - -Months had rolled away, months crowded with incidents of interest to the -personages in my story, and now Edith and Isa stand again on the summit -of the grassy mound by Castle Lestrange, which overlooks a landscape so -wide and so fair. They behold Nature no longer clad in the light-green -drapery of spring, spangled with blossoms, but in the rich full foliage -of summer, which the setting sun is bathing in golden glory. Edith’s -blue eyes are gazing on the magnificent sky, where the bright orb of -day, while sinking down on a throne of fiery clouds, is throwing upwards -widening streams of light where rosy clouds, like islands of the blessed, -softly float in clear blue ether. Never, even in Italy, had Edith -witnessed a finer sunset; it seemed like a glimpse granted to mortals -below of the coming glories of heaven. - -“How resplendent is the sky!” exclaimed Edith, after a pause of silent -admiration. - -“And how beautiful the earth!” added Isa. - -“Ah, on the eve of your bridal day, dearest, the prospect may well look -fair in your eyes, but still it owes its chief beauty to the radiance -above it.” - -[Illustration: A FAIR PROSPECT.] - -“I think that it must always be so to the Christian,” observed Isa. “The -very crown of earthly happiness is to think that it is not all earthly; -that our Lord, who has joined our hearts together, will also join our -hands; and that the union which He makes will endure when that sun itself -is dark!” Isa’s eyes glistened with tears as she spoke, but they welled -up from a deep fount of joy. - -“Just look towards Wildwaste!” cried Edith; “they have finished that -triumphal arch of evergreens and roses at which Lottie and her brother, -and all the children of the hamlet, have been working so hard since -daybreak. I never thought that Wildwaste could put on an appearance so -bright and so gay. Every cottage has its garland, and I should not wonder -if the manufactory itself burst into an illumination to-morrow.” - -“I suspect that the enthusiasm and the rejoicing,” said Isa gayly, “is -less on account of the wedding than to express the joy of the hamlet -at Arthur Madden’s being appointed to succeed Mr. Bull. Old Bolder was -speaking so warmly on the subject this morning. ‘There will be good days -for Wildwaste yet,’ he said, ‘now that we’ve a pastor who will work, and -pray while he works; who loves his people, and will make them love him! -We’ll not have all the drunkenness and riot which have made Wildwaste a -blot on the land! I’ve felt better ever since I heard the good news,’ he -added, rubbing his hands; ‘and I’ll make a shift, I will, to throw away -my crutches, and get to church the day that Mr. Arthur gives his first -sermon.’” - -“Every one welcomes their young clergyman as the benefactor of the -place,” observed Edith. - -“Lottie would be almost sorry to leave Wildwaste,” said Isa, “were she -not going with me to Axe, where she will be close to her widowed mother, -and able often to be with her.” - -“The only person for whom I feel sorry in the midst of all this -rejoicing,” observed Edith, “is your poor brother, Mr. Gritton. He will -miss you so sadly, when all alone in that dreary house at Wildwaste.” - -“I suspect that he will not be long alone,” said Isa. - -“What!—is it true then?” asked Edith quickly, glancing up into the face -of her companion; “but surely, surely it must grieve you to think of -having Cora Madden as a sister!” - -“Some months ago it would have grieved me inexpressibly,” replied Isa -gravely. “I should have deemed such a connection a heavy misfortune; but -Cora is changed, so much changed, since her illness.” - -“I hear that the small-pox has left deep traces—” - -“Yes, on her character,” interrupted Isa. “Cora is much softened, I hope -humbled; there is so much less of asperity in her manner, of sarcasm in -her tone. Is it not strange, Edith, that she of whom I once spoke so -harshly when you and I stood here conversing together, should seem now to -turn towards me with the affection of a sister?” - -“You have indeed been a sister to her, dear Isa; often have I wondered -at your courage in braving infection, and your unselfishness in enduring -quarantine, and all for one whom you dis——whom you could not love. But -yours was the courage, the self-devotion of faith, and God guarded you -from the danger.” - -“God has indeed crowned me with loving-kindness and tender mercies!” -exclaimed Isa, whose quick eye had caught sight at that moment of a -well-known form advancing up the avenue. All her cares and fears, all her -difficulties and trials, had now been exchanged for exceeding joy; every -cloud in her sky, like those round the sun, had become a golden mansion -of light. - -Shall earth be called only “a vale of tears,” and all its hopes be -compared to a withering leaf? Is happiness below but a fading vision? Not -so; for even here the Almighty can throw sunshine around His children, -and sweeten their cup with drops from that fountain of bliss whose full -stream shall refresh their spirits above! But for whom is such happiness -prepared? Not for the fearful and unbelieving, not for the selfish and -self-willed, but for those who, like Gideon, have obeyed God’s word and -chosen His service, and rendered faithful obedience to Him whose mercy -hath redeemed them. The Christian must not look for the victory without -the struggle, nor hope for peace while the smallest sin retains dominion -within the soul; it is on the night of conflict that dawns the morn of -success; to God’s faithful warriors, _faint, yet pursuing_, was given the -triumph of faith over Midian! - - - - -The A. L. O. E. Series. - -RICHLY ILLUSTRATED AND ELEGANTLY BOUND. - - -_At Five Shillings each. Crown 8vo._ - - THE TRIUMPH OVER MIDIAN. 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