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+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75393 ***
+
+Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
+
+[Illustration: AT THE MANOR HOUSE.]
+
+
+
+                        [Illustration]
+
+
+                         WAS I RIGHT?
+
+
+                              BY
+
+                     MRS. O. F. WALTON
+
+                          AUTHOR OF
+
+ _"Christie's Old Organ," "Peep Behind the Scenes," "Saved at Sea,"_
+                             ETC.
+
+
+                        [Illustration]
+
+
+                THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
+       56, PATERNOSTER Row; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD;
+                    AND 164, PICCADILLY.
+
+
+
+                        [Illustration]
+
+
+                           CONTENTS.
+
+                        [Illustration]
+
+CHAP.
+
+    I. THE TWO LETTERS
+
+   II. MY CHOICE
+
+  III. WAS I WRONG?
+
+   IV. MAGGIE'S AUNTS
+
+    V. FIRST IMPRESSIONS
+
+   VI. ALLISTON HALL
+
+  VII. CONSCIENCE AT WORK
+
+ VIII. ALICE FITZGERALD
+
+   IX. WAS THE PROMISE BINDING?
+
+    X. EVELYN'S CONFESSION
+
+   XI. THE OPPORTUNITY GIVEN
+
+  XII. BRINDISI
+
+ XIII. WAS IT HE?
+
+  XIV. JERUSALEM
+
+   XV. MY OLIVE-LEAVES
+
+  XVI. A MYSTERY
+
+ XVII. SUNDAY ON MOUNT ZION
+
+XVIII. THE MYSTERY SOLVED
+
+  XIX. WAS I RIGHT?
+
+
+
+                         WAS I RIGHT?
+
+
+                        [Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE TWO LETTERS.
+
+[Illustration] IT has often seemed very strange to me, that in moments
+of great anxiety or trouble, when our minds and our hearts are
+stretched to the uttermost, we notice with the keenest perception every
+little object around us. Each moving leaf, each nodding flower, catches
+our attention, and, years afterwards, we can remember, as distinctly as
+if it were yesterday, how everything looked in those sorrowful moments,
+when our minds were filled with thoughts of things and people far away.
+
+There is one day in my life, which stands out from amongst the past as
+a day above all others to be remembered by me. And, as I look back to
+it, I see myself a girl of nineteen, sitting at my bedroom window, lost
+in thought and perplexity! I can see the garden just as it looked as I
+gazed out into it that afternoon—our quaint, old-fashioned garden, with
+its hedge of laurel bushes, and the large elm trees at the end of it,
+with the flickering light and shade underneath. I can see the rabbits
+from the plantations round, nibbling the grass on the lawn; and I can
+hear the trickling of the stream, which ran by the side of the house,
+in which Claude, and Maggie, and I used to float our boats, in the
+happy days when we were children. And now the old home must be left for
+ever, for Maggie and I had not a penny in the world!
+
+Our father had been the doctor in the village. It was a very poor
+place, and the people had never any money to spare. My father was too
+kind-hearted to press for payment, when he saw how hard it was for them
+to live; and so the years went by, and although his practice was large,
+he saved very little money. But even this small amount never came to
+us, for just before his death, the bank in which it was placed suddenly
+failed, and so, when he was gone, Maggie and I were penniless!
+
+Maggie was much younger than I was; she was my half-sister, and her
+mother died three weeks after she was born. She committed her little
+baby to me, when she knew that she must leave it; and from that day
+I became, as far as I was able, a mother to Maggie. I was a very
+little mother, for I was only seven years old; but a feeling of great
+responsibility and trust came over me, as I left the room where my
+stepmother was dying. I crept up to the nursery, and stroked the baby's
+face very gently, and felt as if she belonged to me from that moment.
+
+And now, Maggie and I were left without a penny in the world. For
+Maggie it was not of so much consequence. A letter had come from her
+old maiden aunts, her mother's sisters, to insist upon her going at
+once to live with them in the old Manor House at Brandon. Maggie would
+be happy, and cared for there; that was a great relief to my mind.
+Poverty and hardship would not cross the path of my little sister, and
+I was more than content that it should be so. But there was no such
+home in prospect for me. Maggie's aunts were, of course, not related to
+me, and my mother had been a friendless orphan, so I had no one to take
+compassion on me. Separated from the old home, separated from Maggie,
+life looked very cheerless to me in prospect.
+
+My mind was full of trouble and of perplexity, for on the table before
+me lay two letters, which must be answered before evening, and upon the
+answer to these letters would hang all my future life.
+
+I sat at my bedroom window, not knowing what to do. The clock ticked
+on, the hands were moving round, and my letters were still unanswered.
+
+It was then, that, as I gazed into the garden, every tiny object was
+imprinted on my mind. And I can remember that, as I was sitting there,
+the sun went behind a bank of heavy clouds, and all was gloomy and
+dismal in a moment. The rabbits ran back to their holes, the sunbeams
+fled from the lawn, the wind whistled drearily in the chimneys of the
+old house, and flapped the branches of the climbing rose-tree against
+my bedroom window. It seemed to me then very like the cloud which had
+come across my hitherto happy life. And now, what was before me? Joy or
+sorrow?
+
+It appeared to be left with me to decide. The two letters must be
+answered. The first of these was from an old governess of ours, a kind,
+good woman. I had written to tell her of my difficulties, and she wrote
+to advise me to apply for a situation as companion to a young lady of
+fortune, in answer to an advertisement which had just appeared in the
+"Times" newspaper. A fair salary was promised, and all expenses of
+travelling would be defrayed.
+
+That was one of the letters which I had to answer. That was one path of
+life which lay before me. It did not seem very bright in prospect. The
+position of a poor companion in a large household was certainly not one
+which I should have chosen for myself.
+
+I had said "Oh no!" instinctively, when I had first read the
+advertisement which Miss Morley enclosed. And yet, the more I thought
+of it, the more I felt that perhaps I ought to apply for the situation.
+It was clear that I must work for my living, in some way; I disliked
+teaching, so I felt that I was not fit to be a governess; perhaps,
+after all, this would be the very place for me.
+
+And yet, and yet, my heart shrank back from what might be the path of
+duty.
+
+For there was another letter on the table; another, and a very
+different letter. And this letter must be answered before I could
+at all decide about Miss Morley's proposal. I had read it so often
+during the day, that I knew every word of it. And now I must take up
+my pen and answer it. It opened out to me another path of life, a very
+different path from the former—a path which seemed as bright as the
+other was shady.
+
+And yet, ought I to take it? Was it right for me to choose this path?
+Should I indeed be happy if I decided upon it? Would it be really
+bright, really peaceful? What course should I take? What answer should
+I give?
+
+The letter was from Claude Ellis, my old playfellow and friend. He was
+the son of the clergyman of the village, his only child. Claude had no
+companions at home, and therefore when we were children we went, day
+by day, to the Parsonage, or Claude came to us, and we played together
+between the hours for lessons. Maggie was too small to join in our
+games, but she would sit on the grass near us, gathering daisies, and
+watching us as we floated our boats in the little stream, or ran races
+on the lawn. And then we grew older, and Claude was sent to school, but
+always in the holidays our old friendship was renewed, and we walked
+together, read together, and played together as before.
+
+But soon school days passed by, and Claude went to Oxford. I remember
+so well the day on which he came to say "Good-bye" to us before leaving
+home. He looked very handsome, and was full of spirits, and was so much
+looking forward to his college life.
+
+Maggie and I walked to the garden gate with him when he went away. And
+we talked of the time when he would come home again, and we should
+spend our days together as we had always done in the holidays. Then he
+went out, and the gate closed after him, and Maggie and I watched him
+down the road, and she waved her handkerchief to him till he was out of
+sight. And then we went back to the house, and I counted how many weeks
+must pass before the term would be ended, and Claude would be with us
+again.
+
+But a very short time after, Mr. Ellis, Claude's father, was taken
+ill, and the doctor ordered him to go abroad for the winter. So Claude
+spent his Christmas vacation at Mentone instead of at home. And then we
+looked forward to Midsummer.
+
+But Claude did not return home until the greater part of the long
+vacation was over. He was in Cornwall with a reading party, and did
+not come to the Parsonage until about three weeks before his return to
+Oxford. And so it came to pass, that Claude Ellis and I had not met for
+nearly a year.
+
+
+"Claude is at home," said my father, one morning at breakfast.
+
+"Oh, is he?" said little Maggie. "How nice!"
+
+And I was very pleased also. I expected to see exactly the same Claude
+as I had parted from at the garden gate, a year ago; and I thought that
+all would go on just as it had done when he was a boy at school, and
+came home for the holidays.
+
+So when I saw him coming up the road, I ran into the garden to meet him.
+
+"Oh, Claude, I am glad to see you!" I cried, as soon as he opened the
+gate. And then, in a moment, I stopped short, and went up to him quite
+quietly, and giving him my hand, said in a very different voice: "How
+do you do, Claude; when did you come home?"
+
+For in a moment it flashed across me that Claude Ellis and I were
+not the same as we were when we had parted at that very gate a year
+ago. We were both older than we were then; our childhood was a thing
+of the past. Claude and I had grown out of the boy and girl into the
+young man and woman since we had last met. All this flashed across me
+in a moment, as I noticed the difference in Claude's dress, manners,
+and appearance, as he came in at the gate. And a chill came over me
+as I noticed it, and I wished that I had not run to meet him quite so
+eagerly.
+
+And yet, when he began to talk, I felt that he was in many ways the
+same Claude still, the same, but changed.
+
+Was he changed for the better? In many ways he was. He was more manly,
+and more gentleman-like, and had much to tell us of his college
+friends, and college life, which made him a more amusing and pleasant
+companion than before.
+
+And yet, there was another change in Claude, which I could not help
+noticing, in spite of my efforts not to do so. Claude Ellis was more of
+a man, more of a gentleman; but he was, yes, he certainly was, though I
+tried to persuade myself to the contrary, less of a Christian.
+
+Before Claude went to college, we had often talked together of
+the Bible, and he had explained to me many things which I did not
+understand. We used sometimes to sit on the garden seat on Sunday
+afternoons, and read a chapter together; and Claude used to talk so
+nicely about it, and I thought he loved the Lord Jesus, and wished to
+serve Him. He often spoke of the time when he would be old enough to be
+ordained, and when I should come to his church and hear him preach; and
+he told me what his first text would be, and how he had already written
+some pages of his first sermon.
+
+But after Claude's return I noticed a change in him. At first, he
+always avoided any mention of religious subjects, and when, either in
+his own home or ours, any allusion was made to them, he quickly turned
+the conversation to some other topic.
+
+I tried, for some days, to fancy that it was not because Claude had
+ceased to care for what he had loved before, but rather that his
+feelings had grown so much deeper and truer, that he felt things divine
+too sacred to be talked about. But before the vacation was over, I was
+obliged to admit to myself, however unwilling I was to believe it, that
+Claude's views and opinions were quite changed about religious matters;
+that he had begun to doubt what he had before received with childlike
+faith; that he had begun to despise and hold in contempt that which
+from his mother's knee he had learnt to love and reverence.
+
+"Oh, you have never been to Oxford, May," he said, rather
+contemptuously one day, when I was trying to prove something to him
+from the Bible. "You should read some books, which were lent to me
+by a man on my staircase. We are behind the times in this little,
+out-of-the-way place; the world is growing very clever and learned,
+and there are many things which we have always taken for granted about
+which there is really great doubt and uncertainty."
+
+"What things, Claude?" I said. "You do not surely mean—"
+
+"I mean parts of the Bible, May, and doctrines which are supposed to be
+proved from the Bible. But what is the use of talking about it to you?
+I don't want to unsettle your mind. If you like to believe it, and if
+it makes you happy, go on believing it, and be glad that you haven't
+read the books I have read."
+
+"But you, Claude?" I said, sorrowfully.
+
+"Oh, never mind about me, May, I am all right; I am a little wiser than
+you, that is all!"
+
+"Are you happier, Claude?" I ventured to ask.
+
+"Oh, I don't know, May; I don't think happiness, which is based on a
+delusion, is much worth having."
+
+"Oh, Claude," I said, "it makes me wretched to hear you talk like that."
+
+"Then talk about something else, May," he said gaily; "you began the
+subject, not I."
+
+"But, Claude—"
+
+"Now, that will do, May!" he said impatiently. "We don't think alike
+about these subjects, simply because I know a great deal more about
+them than I did before I went away, or than you do now; so let the
+matter drop."
+
+I was very unhappy after this conversation with Claude. He gave me no
+opportunity of renewing it; but though he had not explained to me any
+of his doubts, he had left an uneasy, troubled feeling on my mind, a
+feeling which I could not shake off.
+
+When I went upstairs to bed that night, I sat down to think over what
+Claude had said. What if, after all, I was resting upon a delusion,
+building my happiness upon an unreality? What if, after all, my faith
+was in vain, my hope unfounded?
+
+Horrible doubts, such as I had never known before, came crowding into
+my mind. "Are these things so?" was the oft-repeated question of my
+heart. It was a sad awakening from the trust and implicit confidence
+of childhood; an awakening which, perhaps, comes to every thoughtful
+mind, when its faith is brought into contact, for the first time, with
+the intellect of this world; an awakening which leads us either into
+the terrible region of doubt and uncertainty, or into faith, far firmer
+than ever before, because based, not on mere childish impressions, but
+on the words and the being of the eternal God.
+
+In this state of perplexity I went to my bedroom window and looked out.
+It was a bright, starlight night, so I put out my candle, and sat by
+the window, gazing into the sky at the countless multitude of stars.
+
+Who had made all these mighty worlds? Who was keeping them all in their
+places, and making them fulfil the object for which they were created?
+
+I knew who it was; my faith in the existence of an Almighty God
+remained unshaken. I could never look around me on God's universe and
+doubt that God was.
+
+And then, as I looked at the stars, other thoughts came—thoughts of
+the majesty and wisdom and power of the God who had made all these;
+thoughts, too, of the smallness and insignificance of our own little
+world—in comparison with the rest of God's great universe a mere speck
+in space.
+
+And I—what was I?
+
+Only one of the beings which inhabited this tiny world; one of the
+smallest and least wise of all in God's universe! Who was I, that I
+should say to God, "Why doest Thou this?" Who was I, that I should
+presume to sit in judgment on anything in God's revelation?
+
+"His wisdom is unsearchable, His ways past finding out," was the
+language of my heart. I am but a little child,—how can I understand
+God's plans? I know so little, I understand so little, I see such a
+little way, either before me or behind me. How can I, then, expect to
+understand that which is understood fully only by God Himself?
+
+A feeling of my utter nothingness and insignificance in God's sight
+came over me so powerfully that I was almost crushed by it. Who was
+I—what was I, that I should dare to doubt what God had in wonderful
+condescension revealed to me, because of the vast amount of knowledge
+which was too wonderful for me; so high that I could not attain unto it?
+
+   "O Lord," I said, as I looked up into the sky, "I will be content to
+be a little child, receiving Thy Word with childlike faith, and what
+my mind is too weak and small to understand fully, I will yet believe,
+because Thou hast told me, and because Thy Word must be true."
+
+And even as I said the words, this verse came into my mind:
+
+   "Now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know
+in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."
+
+Then the day was coming when, in another world, my mind would be
+strengthened to understand these difficult matters which were now
+perplexing me—these things which I only knew in part, and which, for
+this very reason, just because I only knew a part of them, seemed to me
+so perplexing and mysterious.
+
+And then there was another thought which comforted me perhaps more
+than anything else, and it was this: I had proved the Bible to be
+true myself. I knew it was the Word of the God of truth by my own
+experience. I had prayed, and had received many an answer to my
+prayers. I had pleaded the promises, and had found them more than
+fulfilled to me in every hour of need. I had fallen back upon the grand
+old truths of the Bible in many a time of trouble, and had never found
+them fail me.
+
+A hundred books, written by the cleverest men on earth, could not
+convince me that the Bible was a mere human production; for I had
+found in it what I had found in no other book—peace for a troubled
+conscience, comfort in sorrow, victory over sin.
+
+I lay down to sleep that night reassured and comforted, and with my
+doubts entirely removed, and I do not remember that they ever returned
+to me.
+
+But Claude, what could I do for him? I could do nothing but pray for
+him, for he never gave me an opportunity of speaking to him again about
+what had so troubled me.
+
+His college days passed by, and every vacation that he was at home he
+came frequently to see us, and each time he came I felt more persuaded
+that his new views had not improved his character. He had occasionally
+an imperious and dictatorial manner, such as he had never had before,
+and he looked restless and dissatisfied, as if something was preying on
+his mind.
+
+And yet Claude was very kind to us, to Maggie and to me. He never came
+home without bringing us some little present, and he never seemed tired
+of our company.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MY CHOICE.
+
+[Illustration] ONE day, about six weeks before the time at which my
+little story commences, I had been spending the day at the Parsonage.
+I did not often go there now, but Claude was away, and his aunt, Miss
+Richards, who had lived there since Claude's mother died, invited me
+to spend the afternoon with her. Claude had just left Oxford, and was
+staying for a few weeks with some friends in Scotland, before settling
+down at home.
+
+After dinner Miss Richards and I took our work into the little
+summer-house, and sat there until the evening. We talked on various
+subjects, the village, the people round, Mr. Ellis's health, and of
+many other things. And then we talked of Claude.
+
+"It will be very pleasant to have Claude at home," said Miss Richards;
+"the house is so dull when he is away."
+
+"Yes," I said, "you must miss him very much, Miss Richards, but I
+suppose he will not be at home very long; when is he to be ordained?"
+
+She did not answer me at once, and when I looked up, I saw that her
+face was very troubled and sorrowful, as she bent over her work.
+
+"Claude will not be ordained, May," she said at length; "I think that
+is quite decided now."
+
+"Why not, Miss Richards?" I asked in astonishment. "I thought that had
+been settled years ago, when Claude was a little boy."
+
+"It was only settled conditionally, May," she said. "Claude was to go
+into the ministry if it was his own wish to do so; his father would
+never press him into such work, if he did not feel drawn to it himself."
+
+"And Claude does not feel drawn to it?" I asked.
+
+"Oh no, he has written to his father most decidedly, giving up all idea
+of becoming a clergyman, and expressing his wish to study for the bar."
+
+"Is Mr. Ellis very disappointed, Miss Richards?" I said.
+
+"Of course he is disappointed in one way, May, for he has made a great
+effort to give Claude a University education, in order to make him more
+fit for his work as a minister; but at the same time, he quite sees
+that with Claude's peculiar ideas (you know what I mean, May, those new
+views he has taken up at Oxford) his ordination is, at least for the
+present, out of the question."
+
+I made no answer, but went on diligently with my work.
+
+"Claude has been a great expense to his father," Miss Richards went
+on; "he has cost him many hundreds at Oxford, and bills are still
+coming in. He is young yet, you see, and I suppose all young men are
+extravagant. But it is a great pity that he let the bills run on for so
+long; some go as far back as his first term."
+
+"What does Claude say about it?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, he is always very much troubled when the bills come, for he sees
+that his father has not any money to spare, and he talks about the time
+when he will have money of his own at his uncle Charles's death, and
+when he will be able to repay all his father has advanced for him. And
+then he is quite certain that the tradesmen must have added a great
+deal which he never bought. But it is so long ago, May, nearly four
+years, so, of course, he cannot be sure of it."
+
+"I am very, very sorry," I said.
+
+"Yes, and so are we," said Miss Richards; "but that anxiety is nothing
+to the other. Mr. Ellis would not mind how much money he had to pay, if
+only Claude had not taken up such rationalistic, infidel ideas."
+
+"Does he still hold those views?" I asked. "He spoke to me once about
+them, a long time ago, but I have heard nothing of it since. I hoped
+Claude had studied the other side of the question, and had grown wiser."
+
+"Oh, my dear," said Miss Richards, "he seems to me to get worse and
+worse. At first it was only some small parts of the Bible which he
+cavilled at, and which he maintained were not inspired; but when
+he once began to doubt, there was no knowing where he would stop
+doubting—he carried the same spirit of critical suspicion into
+everything."
+
+"But surely there are books written which would in a great measure
+answer Claude's doubts?" I suggested.
+
+"Yes, undoubtedly," said Miss Richards; "but it seems to me Claude
+prefers doubting, for he does not seem at all anxious to have his
+doubts cleared away. He does not want to have his mind satisfied, and
+so he either does not read books on the other side at all; or, if he
+reads them, he does so fully determined that his scepticism cannot be,
+and indeed must not be shaken. If Claude would only prayerfully desire,
+and prayerfully strive to have his doubts removed, I should have no
+fear about him."
+
+"I am so very sorry, Miss Richards," I said again.
+
+"Yes, May, and so am I," said she. "I assure you that when I went
+upstairs into Claude's bedroom, when he was last at home, and found at
+the bottom of his box a number of his favourite books (the very names
+of some of which made me shudder), I sat down on a chair in his room,
+and had a good cry. I could not help it, May dear. For I thought of
+the little, trustful face, which used to be lifted to mine years ago,
+when I told him, for the first time, the beautiful stories out of the
+Book he now despises and scoffs at. I thought of the little voice which
+used to say the evening prayer at my knee, and which used, on Sundays,
+to repeat hymns and texts to me in this very summer-house. And then
+I thought of the small, black Bible, which, when he grew older, used
+always to be laid beside his pillow, that he might be able to read it
+as soon as it was light in the morning. I could see plenty of other
+books in Claude's room, May, but no Bible! I could not help going
+downstairs and bringing a Bible up to lay on the dressing-table, in
+case he might see and read it. Though, of course, it would do him no
+good, unless he came to it in a teachable spirit," she added, with a
+sigh.
+
+"But I have not lost hope for Claude yet," said Miss Richards, after a
+pause. "I believe that when he is older he will be wiser in many ways.
+And May," she said, "my great hope for Claude lies in you; you have
+more influence with him than any one has."
+
+"I? Oh no, Miss Richards; you are quite wrong there," I said. "He will
+never even speak to me on the subject."
+
+"No, perhaps not," said Miss Richards; "but your quiet, gentle, loving
+influence must have its effect in time."
+
+"But, Miss Richards, you are quite mistaken in supposing that I have
+any influence with Claude. I know when we were children together, and
+were like brother and sister to each other, I may have had some power
+over him, but it is quite different now."
+
+"You have tenfold more influence with Claude now than you had then,
+May," she said quietly; "to give you pleasure is the greatest joy of
+his life, to grieve you is his greatest pain."
+
+I felt my face growing very crimson as Miss Richards said this. She had
+put into words a fear which had been hidden away in my heart for some
+months—a fear that I had never dared, even in my own heart, to put into
+words—a fear that I was becoming more to Claude than a mere sister,
+and that he had plans and views for our future, his future and mine,
+which I could not, which I ought not, to entertain for a moment. And,
+because of this undefined fear, I had kept away from the Parsonage as
+much as possible during the vacations, and I had avoided Claude as much
+as our old friendship would allow me, until sometimes my conscience had
+accused me of rudeness and unkindness.
+
+But, after all, I had hoped it was but a fear. Claude loved me, it was
+true, I argued to myself, and liked to bring me presents, and to give
+me pleasure; but then it was only natural that he should do so, when we
+had been brought up together, and learnt together, and played together,
+and had had every thought and scheme in common. It was nothing more
+than that. So I had argued with myself. But Miss Richards's words had
+revived my old fear, and increased it a hundredfold.
+
+I was very glad when, a minute or two afterwards, the village clock
+struck five, and I could make an excuse to leave.
+
+Miss Richards had evidently noticed my embarrassment, for she said
+kindly, as she wished me good-bye:
+
+"I hope I have not troubled you, May dear, but my heart is so full of
+anxiety about Claude just now, that I have spoken perhaps more strongly
+than I ought to have done."
+
+I went home very perplexed and troubled, but the next day my thoughts
+were turned into an entirely fresh channel by the sudden illness of my
+dear father. I will not dwell upon the sad time which followed those
+days and nights of alternate hope and fear, and then the close to our
+watching, and the terrible realisation that Maggie and I were amongst
+the number of the fatherless children, prayed for, Sunday after Sunday,
+in the Litany.
+
+Miss Richards was very kind to me during that time of trouble, giving
+me advice and help as I needed them, and relieving me greatly from the
+sense of heavy responsibility which rested on me.
+
+Claude was still from home, but he wrote a kind little note of sympathy
+to me, when he heard of my father's death. He said he was very sorry
+that he was away at the time; had he been at home he would have done
+all in his power to save me any unnecessary care and anxiety in my time
+of sorrow.
+
+I tried to hope that this was only brotherly sympathy and kindness,
+such as Claude had always shown me from childhood. I answered the
+letter by a short note, thanking him for his kind expression of
+sympathy, and telling him a little of our future plans—how Maggie was
+going to live with her aunts in the old Manor House at Branston, and
+how I hoped very soon to obtain a situation as governess or companion,
+where I could earn enough money to keep me in comfort and independence.
+By return of post came a second letter from Claude. I almost trembled
+when I saw his handwriting on the envelope; I had not intended to
+open a correspondence with him. And when I took the letter from the
+envelope, and saw its length, I was still more troubled and afraid.
+Then I read the letter, and when I had read it once, I read it again,
+and yet again. And now this letter lay on the table before me, still
+unanswered, and post-time was drawing nearer and nearer. I looked at it
+once more, although I knew almost every word of it already.
+
+Claude began by stating his utter disapproval of my scheme of obtaining
+a situation as companion or governess. I was not fitted for it, and he
+would never allow it to be carried out. And then he went on to tell me
+that he had far different plans for my future—plans which had mingled
+with his boyish dreams, and which had been for years the one idea of
+his life.
+
+And then he told me how he loved me, how there was no one on earth that
+he had ever cared for except myself, and how he felt that the time had
+now come to make me his wife, and to take me to a home of my own, where
+I should be taken care of, and cherished, and loved, more than any wife
+had ever been before. He said it was hard for him to put into a letter
+all the feelings of his heart. He had never planned to tell me all this
+by writing, but he felt compelled to write off at once, as soon as
+he received my letter, and the more so as, by a curious coincidence,
+by the very same post he had heard of the sudden death of his uncle
+Charles, who had left him a large sum of money, quite sufficient,
+Claude said, to enable him to marry, and to take me to a comfortable
+home.
+
+At the end of the week, he said, he hoped to be with me, but he could
+not wait till then to tell me all this, for he feared that I should in
+the meantime be answering some dreadful advertisement, and be making
+another and a very different engagement. He concluded by urging me to
+write by return of post, as he longed to know that the whole matter was
+finally settled and arranged.
+
+The more I read this letter, the more persuaded I felt that Claude
+never, for a single moment, entertained the possibility of my refusing
+him; he seemed to look upon it as a matter of certainty that I should
+be only too glad to do as he asked me. He was evidently utterly
+unprepared for anything but an immediate and hearty acceptance of his
+offer.
+
+And now what answer should I give? I pressed my throbbing temples, and
+tried to think the matter over calmly and deliberately.
+
+Did I love Claude Ellis? Yes, undoubtedly I loved him very much indeed;
+not in the same way, it is true, as I had imagined that I should love
+the one who was to become my husband, but still I loved him very
+warmly, us a sister loves a dear brother who has been everything to
+her since she was a little child. And surely a different kind of love
+for Claude might, and probably would, come in my heart after we were
+engaged.
+
+And although Claude was certainly not at all like the husband that I
+had pictured to myself in the days long ago, when I was foolish enough
+to indulge in day-dreams, and although even now, at times, I longed,
+oh, how much! for some one to lean on—some one very wise, very good,
+very true, and infinitely better in every way than I was; and I had
+never pictured Claude to myself as the one who was to be all this to
+me; yet still he would be a kind, loving husband, and I might be very
+happy if I were his wife.
+
+And I was so fond of Claude that I felt it would make me very miserable
+to feel that there was any estrangement or coldness between us, as
+there undoubtedly would be if I refused to be his wife. Our old
+friendship, which had lasted so long, would practically end, and when
+we met we should feel restrained and uncomfortable in each other's
+presence. I could not bear to think that such would be the case.
+
+And then Miss Richards—how anxious she evidently was that I should use
+my influence with Claude! What would she say if I were to refuse him?
+How strange she would think it! How grieved and disappointed she would
+be!
+
+And yet, with the thought of Miss Richards came the recollection of
+what she had told me of Claude, as we sat together in the arbour.
+Should I be happy with one as my husband who scorned the Book I loved
+best on earth, who slighted and neglected the Friend who was to me the
+chiefest among ten thousand?
+
+Should I be happy with no family prayer in my household, with no
+reading of the Word of God, and with religious topics for ever
+banished, because husband and wife thought so differently about them?
+Would the love between us be perfect, the confidence unsullied, when
+there was one subject—and that one the subject nearest to my heart—on
+which we had no communion; one Name, and that one the Name above every
+name, which neither of us ever mentioned to each other? Should I be
+really happy, really contented with such a state of things?
+
+And then came another question. Even supposing I should be happy, was
+it right for me to accept Claude's offer? Was it right in God's sight
+for me to marry one who was not a Christian? I knew there was a text
+somewhere in the Epistle to the Corinthians which spoke on this point.
+I opened my Bible and looked for it, and I found it in 2 Corinthians
+vi. 14:
+
+   "Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what
+fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion
+hath light with darkness?"
+
+It was a very clear command, and could not be mistaken. And yet I tried
+to argue myself into the belief that it did not apply to me. For in the
+first place, I reasoned, Claude was not a heathen as these Corinthians
+were. He did not worship gods of wood and stone. He was looked upon as
+a Christian, and lived and had been brought up in a Christian family.
+But the word unbeliever, conscience answered, surely includes every one
+that is not a believer.
+
+Was Claude a believer? Could I honestly say that he was a true believer
+in the Lord Jesus Christ? Would Claude himself like to be thought a
+believer? Could I from my heart say that I thought Claude was safe in
+Christ, resting his soul on Christ for salvation? No, I was obliged
+sorrowfully to admit to myself that such was not the case. But then, I
+argued, I am not perfect. Oh, how cold and indifferent I am at times!
+How full of carelessness, and pride, and every kind of sin! Who am I,
+that I should set myself up to be better and more holy than Claude? Who
+am I, that I should say Claude is not good enough for me?
+
+And yet the line of distinction in the text was evidently drawn, not
+between perfect people and imperfect people, but between believers and
+unbelievers. Was I then a believer? That was the question: was I in
+deed and in truth a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ?
+
+I dared not say that I was not, for even as I asked myself the
+question, a day years ago came back to my mind, a day when Mr. Ellis
+had been giving us a Bible lesson and had spoken to us very solemnly
+about coming to Christ for ourselves, and that at once.
+
+I remembered how anxious and serious I had felt as I left the Bible
+class, and how I had come home and shut myself in this very room where
+I was now sitting. I remembered how I had closed the door behind me,
+and had resolved not to leave the room until I had laid my sins on
+Jesus, and had looked to Him by faith as my own Saviour. I remembered
+how all my sins had risen up before me that day as they had never done
+before; and how, one by one, I had taken them to Christ to be atoned
+for and forgiven.
+
+And then I remembered the peace which had followed, and how, for days
+afterwards, life had been entirely new to me, and my thoughts, and
+feelings, and wishes had been entirely different from what they were
+before. And since that time, though I had very often grown careless
+and indifferent, still I had never been happy when I was not walking
+closely with God, and I had always longed at such times to be back in
+the sunshine and light of His presence again. So then it seemed as if
+the command in the text did apply to me.
+
+But surely if I married Claude, I might use my influence with him for
+good. He loved me very much, and, as Miss Richards had said, I had more
+influence with him than any one had.
+
+Was it right for me to throw away this opportunity of doing good? Was
+there not a text which said that husbands, "who obey not the Word,"
+might yet, without the Word, be "won by the conversation of their
+wives?" And did not St. Paul say, "What knowest thou, O wife, whether
+thou shalt save thy husband?" Surely these verses justified me in
+thinking that if I married Claude, he might, through my influence,
+become a Christian.
+
+And yet when I turned to these passages, and read the context, I saw
+that they clearly referred to those wives who were converted after
+their marriage—that such were told not to leave their unbelieving
+husbands, but to remain in that state in which they were called, and to
+such, and to such alone, the promise about being the means of saving
+their husbands applied. It had evidently nothing whatever to do with
+those who were converted whilst they were still unmarried, nor did it,
+in the very slightest degree, overthrow the clear command I had just
+read:
+
+   "Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers—"
+
+A command which applied to the unmarried believers, as plainly as the
+command in the first Epistle applied to the married ones.
+
+And, when I began to think the matter over, with a more unbiased mind,
+I was driven to the conclusion that Claude was far more likely to lead
+me away from Christ than I was to lead him to become a believer. For
+surely if I had not enough influence now to persuade him to love better
+things—now, when he was so anxious to win my favour,—surely afterwards,
+when he felt certain of my love, he would not be more likely to be led
+in an entirely different direction. Surely I should become worse, and
+Claude would become no better. I should be less of a believer, and he
+would remain still an unbeliever.
+
+To do evil, that good may possibly come, is entirely opposed to the
+whole teaching of the New Testament; nowhere is the faintest hope held
+out that such a course will result in good. And I could undoubtedly
+expect no blessing from God on my endeavours to lead Claude aright
+if I had acted in the face of God's command and had gone in direct
+opposition to His clear injunction:
+
+   "Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers."
+
+And so I felt, when I had thought the whole matter carefully over, that
+it came to this:
+
+Was I willing to shut Christ out from the first place in my heart, and
+put Claude there instead? Or, on the other hand, was I willing to give
+up Claude, and hold all the closer and firmer to Him who had for years
+been my hope and my refuge?
+
+Christ's love or Claude's! Which should I choose? I could not have
+both, for I felt that to have both was impossible. Choosing Christ, I
+should offend Claude; choosing Claude, I should forfeit the love and
+the favour of Christ. Christ or Claude—which?
+
+A verse, which I had learned as a child, came suddenly into my mind,
+and looking up to the sky above me, in which the sun was once more
+shining, I repeated it aloud, for it seemed exactly to express the
+earnest cry of my soul:
+
+   "My heart is fixed, O God,
+       Fixed on Thee;
+    And my eternal choice is made,
+       Christ for me."
+
+Christ for me. Christ's smile, Christ's favour, Christ's blessing;
+these are my choice. Whatever it costs me, I cannot, I will not, give
+them up.
+
+I knelt down, and thanked God from the bottom of my heart for showing
+me the clear, the sure, the right way for me to take. And then I took
+up my pen to answer Claude's letter.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+WAS I WRONG?
+
+[Illustration] IT was not an easy task to answer that letter, for I did
+not wish to wound Claude or to pain him, and I felt sure he would be so
+utterly unprepared for what I felt obliged to say.
+
+Lest I should in any way raise his hopes, I began at once by telling
+him how difficult I felt it to write, and how much it cost me to tell
+him that what he had asked me to do in his letter was quite impossible.
+I thanked him for all his love for me, and for the kind way in which
+he had spoken of me; but I made it as clear as possible that, though I
+hoped always to remain his friend and sister, yet I could not be his
+wife.
+
+I did not tell him my exact reason for refusing him, for I felt that
+Claude would not in the least degree understand it; but I told him that
+my mind was fully made up, and I begged him at once to dismiss the idea
+of it from his own mind. I tried to write very decidedly and yet very
+kindly, and with the remembrance of our old friendship and love vividly
+impressed on my mind.
+
+I ended by expressing my sorrow for giving him pain, and my earnest
+hope for his future happiness. I begged him to let no coldness and
+estrangement come between us on account of this, but to let our old
+friendship be strengthened and increased rather than weakened and
+lessened.
+
+I was not at all satisfied with this letter when it was finished, but
+there was no time to rewrite it, for post-time was close at hand, and
+the advertisement in the "Times" newspaper must be answered at once, or
+I should lose the situation.
+
+When both the letters were gone, I tried to dismiss the subject from
+my mind, and when it came back to me, I endeavoured to turn my tired
+thoughts into prayer, and in this way found comfort and relief.
+
+The following afternoon, as I was writing letters in the little
+schoolroom, which was the next room to my bedroom, and the window of
+which also looked out over the garden to the hills beyond, I heard a
+hasty step on the stairs.
+
+Maggie was spending the day with a playfellow of hers in the village,
+and it was not Maggie's step. No, I knew the step well, and my heart
+beat fast, and I felt myself growing paler and paler every moment.
+
+The door opened, and Claude entered without any ceremony. He looked
+tired and troubled, and his clothes were covered with dust from his
+long journey.
+
+"May," he said, "I got your letter this morning, and I have come off
+at once. The Fitzgeralds thought I was mad, I believe; I started up
+from the breakfast-table and said I must catch the nine o'clock train.
+But I could not have waited another day; it would have been utterly
+impossible, May."
+
+I tried to speak, but my heart was beating so quickly now that my words
+seemed as if they would choke me.
+
+"And now, May," Claude said, hurriedly, sitting down by my side and
+taking my hand, "I want you to tell me what you meant by that cruel
+letter you sent me; or, rather, I want you to tell me that it was all
+a mistake, all a delusion, that you have thought better of it since,
+and that you wish you had never written it. I want you to tell me, May,
+darling," he said in a lower voice, "that the dream of my life is to be
+changed into a reality this very week. I want you to tell me that the
+bright days which I have always said were in store for us both are now
+close at hand."
+
+"Claude, dear Claude," I said, as soon as I was able to speak, "you
+have my answer; as a sister, as a friend, I will always love you, but I
+cannot, cannot be your wife."
+
+"And pray why not, May?" he said, impatiently rising, and walking
+towards the window. "What absurd idea have you got in your head now?
+Who, or what is to hinder you from becoming my wife, I should like to
+know?"
+
+"Claude, I cannot," I said; and the tears would come, in spite of all
+my efforts to keep them back.
+
+"But what is your reason, May?" he said, pacing up and down the room.
+"You must have some reason for what you say, and I cannot rest till you
+tell me what it is. What is it, May?"
+
+"I had rather not tell you all my thoughts about it, Claude," I said;
+"it would be very difficult, and would cost us both much pain. And
+Claude," I said, earnestly, "it would do no good; my mind is quite
+made up: I cannot do as you ask me, so please do not press me for the
+reason, Claude."
+
+"But I will know it, May," he said, almost angrily. "I am not going
+home till you have told me; so you had better let me hear it at once."
+
+And then I felt that, perhaps, it was sinful cowardice which made me
+afraid to tell Claude my reason; perhaps I was grieving my dear Lord
+and Master by being ashamed of Him, by being ashamed to tell Claude
+what it was that I held far more dear than his love for me, even the
+priceless, the everlasting love of my Lord. And yet how could I do it?
+Claude unexpectedly came to my help.
+
+"May," he said, quickly, "do you love any one better than me—is that
+it?"
+
+"Yes, Claude," I said, in a low voice; "there is one love which I hold
+more dear than yours—that is it."
+
+"Who is it, May?" he said, impatiently. "I didn't know you knew any one
+else well enough; who can it be?"
+
+"It is no one on earth, Claude," I said; "I mean the Lord Jesus Christ."
+
+"What nonsense, May!" he exclaimed. "Whatever in the world has that to
+do with it? I am not going to interfere with your religion; you may be
+as religious as ever you please—a perfect saint if you like; I won't
+hinder you. So now put all those absurd notions out of your head, and
+let us talk about the future. That matter is settled; you shall be
+twice as religious after you are married as you were before."
+
+"But, Claude, it is not settled," I said; "you know I could not expect
+to be happy, or to enjoy God's presence, if I was disobeying His clear
+command."
+
+"And pray what command do you mean?" said Claude. "Really, May, this is
+too absurd!"
+
+I opened the Bible and handed it to him; there was a mark against the
+verse in the Epistle to the Corinthians, and his face clouded over as
+he read the words.
+
+"I wish that verse was cut out of every Bible in the world," he said,
+angrily; "I wonder how many people's happiness has been ruined by it;
+and it is perfectly ridiculous! Why, May, you don't even understand the
+wording of the text; you can't even read it in Greek, and yet you are
+going to overthrow all my plans and schemes for the future, and spoil
+all my happiness in the world, just for the sake of that one obscure
+verse."
+
+I could not help noticing how much Claude dwelt on his own plans, and
+schemes, and happiness in the world, and how he looked at the matter
+quite from his own point of view, and not at all from my side of the
+question.
+
+"No, Claude," I said, calmly, "I cannot read it in Greek, but I
+understand quite enough of it to make me quite sure that if I were
+to consent to marry you, I should be grieving my best Friend, by
+disobeying His clear command."
+
+"Why, May, that just shows you know nothing at all about it," he said.
+"That verse has no more to do with you than it has with that table; it
+was spoken to the Corinthians, who, before Paul preached to them, were
+an ignorant lot of heathens, and all it means is, that Christians are
+not to go and marry heathens. I'm not a heathen, bad as you seem to
+think me."
+
+"But," I answered, "it says unbelievers, and surely that means those
+who are not believers. Claude, are you a real believer in the Lord
+Jesus Christ? Can you honestly say that you are? Would you like to be
+called a believer by the world?"
+
+Claude could not answer this question, so he quickly turned the
+conversation into quite a different channel.
+
+"And so you set up yourself as too good for me, May, that's what it is!
+You think yourself far too saintly to be joined to a poor heathen like
+me!"
+
+"No, Claude, indeed it is not that," I said; "indeed it is not. I am
+not good at all; very, very far from it; but I do trust that I have
+come to the Lord Jesus, and that I believe in Him. Yes, though I am
+very imperfect and sinful, oh, Claude, I do hope that I am a believer,"
+I said, with tears in my eyes.
+
+"Yes, darling," said Claude, in quite a different tone, "I know you are
+everything good; I sometimes wish I were more like you. Won't you help
+me to become better, May? Won't you save me from myself, and teach me
+to love what you love? Come, May, it is my last chance; surely you will
+not refuse me?"
+
+And Claude took hold of my hand, and looked up pleadingly into my face.
+
+It was a dreadful temptation, and a fierce struggle was going on
+in my mind. Whilst Claude had been angry and impatient it had been
+comparatively easy to be firm, but now, now that his voice was so
+pleading and so tender, now that his hand was laid so lovingly upon
+mine, now that his eyes were actually full of tears, I felt my
+resolution giving way, my faith failing.
+
+What if, after all, Claude was right? What if I might be indeed the
+means of leading him to better things? Miss Richards seemed to think
+so, and Miss Richards was a good woman.
+
+And yet, my conscience told me plainly enough, that the opinion of a
+good woman could not make a wrong action right. Was it right or wrong
+in the sight of God? That was the question, and every time I put it to
+my heart, the same answer came, in clear, unmistakable terms:
+
+   "Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers."
+
+I saw the path of duty clearly before me, a hard and difficult path,
+so hard and so difficult that I nearly despaired of ever being able to
+tread it.
+
+The temptation was indeed fierce and strong, and I was on the point of
+yielding. Claude saw this and spoke still more tenderly, and pressed
+the advantage he had gained as far as possible.
+
+I darted up one earnest, imploring cry to my Lord for help. My prayer
+did not, even in thought, resolve itself into words, but it was the
+language of my innermost soul. And it was not left unanswered. Four
+words came into my mind at that moment, which enabled me to gain the
+victory.
+
+As clearly as if the sunbeams which were streaming in at the window had
+written them on the wall of the room, these four words flashed across
+me:
+
+   "FOR MY NAME'S SAKE."
+
+Ah! Here was a motive, strong enough to enable me to overcome the
+greatest temptation; here was a motive, strong enough to enable me to
+conquer all those desires and wishes of my heart, which were urging me
+into disobedience to my Lord's command.
+
+   "For My Name's sake; is it too much to bear for Me?"
+
+I heard Him ask me; and, in a moment, all His infinite love for me,
+all His self-denial for my sake, all His travail of soul, all that
+He underwent to save me, and bless me, crowded upon my mind, and was
+followed by the question—
+
+   "All this I bore for thee,
+    What canst thou bear for Me?"
+
+My mind was made up; I would parley with the temptation no longer.
+
+I drew my hand away from Claude's, gently, but firmly. "Claude," I
+said, "do not let us make each other more miserable, by going over and
+over the same ground. You will never be able to move me. I can only
+repeat what I have told you before. As a sister, as a friend, I will
+always love you, but I cannot be your wife. Claude," I went on, as he
+was beginning to speak, "that is my final answer, so please say no more
+about it."
+
+I suppose I spoke very decidedly, though I had tried to speak calmly,
+for Claude was very angry. A change passed over his face in an instant;
+I do not think he had dreamt for a single moment that I should be able
+to withstand his arguments and his persuasions.
+
+He walked to the window and looked out on the garden below.
+
+"Then I am to look upon this as final, May?" he said, bitterly.
+
+"Yes, Claude, as quite final," I replied; "you will never be able to
+move me from my resolution, dear Claude. But you will not let our old
+friendship end, will you? Why should we not be brother and sister to
+each other still?"
+
+"Oh! There are two sides to that question," said Claude, proudly. "I
+keep out of the way of those who think themselves too good to associate
+with me. There are plenty of other people who will be glad of my
+friendship."
+
+And so Claude left me without another word. He went out of the room,
+slamming the door after him, and a moment afterwards I saw him hastily
+cross the lawn, and go out at the garden gate. And I knew, as well as
+if I could read the future, that that was the last time I should see
+him pass through that gate.
+
+For Claude's was a proud, imperious nature, and the more I thought the
+matter over, the more I felt sure that his pride was wounded, quite
+as much, if not more, than his affection. He had thought it next to
+impossible that any one, and above all a poor, friendless girl like
+myself, should refuse to be his wife. He had found he was mistaken, and
+he was mortified and vexed at the discovery.
+
+When I was left alone, I felt as if I had gone through a great storm,
+and had come out of it wearied and exhausted. My mind was too tired
+even to pray. I pushed aside the letters I was writing, and looked out
+over the distant hills. But after a time, when I was calmer and in a
+more restful state of mind, I opened my Bible at the place where it had
+been so often opened the last two days, and read again my Master's word
+of command.
+
+And then I was enabled, though with tears in my eyes, to thank Him that
+through His grace I had been strengthened to keep it.
+
+This time I read the whole passage through to the end of the chapter.
+
+The last two verses were the very words I needed just then:
+
+   "Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and
+touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and will be a
+Father unto you, and ye shall be My sons and daughters, saith the Lord
+Almighty."
+
+The Master's call—"Come out from among them." The Master's promise—"I
+will receive you."
+
+If He said, "Go out from among them," it would have been so much harder
+to obey. But He does not say "Go," but "Come"—Come out; come to Me—"I
+will receive you."
+
+Come out to Me, and I will be a Father unto you, and you shall be My
+children, My sons and My daughters. Come out to Me; come out, not unto
+loneliness, and orphanhood, and desolation, but come out to Me, to a
+Father's love, to a Father's sympathy, to a Father's home. Come and be
+My sons and daughters, the sons and daughters of a King—the King of
+kings. Come then out from among them. Leave that transient, earthly
+affection, which is, as it were, but for a moment. Come to Me, and I
+will receive you, and will give you far more than what you will have
+to leave behind, far more than you have ever even hoped for from the
+purest of earthly loves. I will give you Myself—My love, My everlasting
+love, My soul-satisfying love.
+
+Is not the exchange worth making? Is not the coming out fully
+recompensed by the loving reception?
+
+I looked up into the sky, in which the sun was fast setting, and said
+with a thankful heart,—
+
+   "Lord, by Thy grace I have come out; I have given up the affection
+which would have drawn me away; I have separated myself from the love
+which, however sweet, would have cut me off from Thy presence and from
+Thy love."
+
+And, even as I said this, the Master's answer came with tenderest
+comfort to my heart:
+
+   "I will receive you, nay, I have already received you, and I will be a
+Father unto you, and you shall be My child, My daughter, saith the Lord
+Almighty."
+
+I heard Maggie's voice at this moment, so I hastily rose, wiped away
+the tears which were now only tears of joy and thankfulness, and went
+to meet her.
+
+"How happy you seem to-night, May," she said, as we sat together at
+supper; "you have not looked so happy since—since—" Her lip quivered,
+and tears came into her eyes.
+
+I held out my arms to her, and she came and sat on my knee, as she used
+to do when she was a little child, laid her head on my shoulder, and
+sobbed.
+
+"What is it, Maggie darling?" I asked, stroking her long, fair hair
+with my hand.
+
+"Oh, May," she sobbed, "if only we could be together; if only I had
+not to go away and leave you. I counted the days this morning on the
+almanack, and there are only nineteen more."
+
+"Poor little Maggie!" I said. "What shall I do without you?"
+
+"And what shall I do without you, May?" she said. "My aunts are very
+kind, but they are not like you; you are just like a mother to me. I
+shall never be a good girl, May, when I haven't you to talk to me, and
+when I can't tell you all my troubles."
+
+"But you can tell Jesus, Maggie," I said, "just as you have always told
+me, and He will help you and comfort you far, far better than I could
+do."
+
+"Yes, May," she said, putting up her face to be kissed, "I will tell
+Him every day; I promise you that I will."
+
+"And then you can write to me, Maggie," I said. "Look here what I have
+bought for you. I had meant to have kept it till the last day, but
+perhaps I had better give it to you now."
+
+I went to a drawer and brought out a neat little desk filled with
+paper, envelopes, pens, stamps, and everything necessary for
+letter-writing.
+
+Maggie was charmed with it, and was quite as merry as she had been sad
+before, and began to plan at once how many letters she would write me
+every week, and what she would say in them. She said she should tell
+me everything, even what time she got up every morning and went to bed
+every night.
+
+Dear little Maggie! How well I can picture her to myself as she looked
+on that memorable evening in my life, on which I had refused to be
+Claude Ellis's wife.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MAGGIE'S AUNTS.
+
+[Illustration] THOSE last days which Maggie and I spent together in
+the old home were very happy ones. I took every opportunity I had of
+deepening in my little sister's mind the lessons I had tried to teach
+her from a child, and which she had always loved so much. I had great
+reason to hope that they had not been in vain, but that my dear little
+Maggie was in deed and in truth a child of God.
+
+We were very busy sorting and packing our various possessions, and
+leaving all in the house in readiness for the sale which was to take
+place immediately we left.
+
+I had received a satisfactory answer to my application for the post of
+companion, saying that Sir William Trafford, after due inquiries of my
+referees, would be glad of my services as companion to his daughter,
+Miss Evelyn Trafford, and would be glad to know on what day I should be
+able to commence my duties at Alliston Hall.
+
+I did not see Claude again before I went away. The day after his visit
+to me I heard that he had again left home, and had returned to his
+friends in Scotland.
+
+The evening before we left Acton, I went up to the Parsonage to say
+good-bye. Miss Richards received me very kindly, but we were both
+constrained in our manner, for we were thinking of the same thing,
+and neither of us liked to mention it. We spoke of the weather, of my
+future plans, of the sale of the furniture, of Mr. Ellis's health,
+and of a variety of other things and people; but Claude's name was
+carefully avoided, and that which was filling our thoughts was entirely
+kept out of the conversation. So it was no wonder that our talk flagged
+at times, and that we were very far from being natural or at our ease.
+
+Just as I was leaving, I remembered how kind Miss Richards had been to
+me through my motherless life; always ready to help me with her advice
+whenever I needed help, and very patient in listening to the small home
+worries which had crowded upon me when I first took upon myself the
+cares and responsibilities of housekeeping.
+
+"Miss Richards," I said, "you have been like a mother to me; I shall
+never, never be able to thank you enough for all you have been to me."
+
+"Oh no, May," she said, warmly, "you must not speak of that; you have
+been quite as much, or more to me, dear. You have been a bright sunbeam
+here, May. You have often brightened my life since I came here."
+
+"Oh, Miss Richards," I said, "I never dreamt that I could make you any
+happier."
+
+"You did it without dreaming then, dear," she said, smiling; "and,
+May," she added, "what has passed between you and Claude will make no
+difference in your love to me, will it? You will still treat me as a
+friend, and let me hear from you sometimes, won't you, dear?"
+
+"Oh, Miss Richards," I said; "will you let me write to you? Then you
+are not very angry with me?"
+
+"Angry with you! Why?" she said. "For refusing Claude?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "for giving Claude the answer I did."
+
+"No, dear," said Miss Richards; "I was very much surprised, I own, and
+very much disappointed. I had counted so much on your influence with
+Claude, and was building my hopes on it far more than I ought to have
+done. But since then, May, I have sometimes thought that, perhaps, I
+ought not to blame you. I felt that I had been looking at the matter
+entirely from my point of view—mine and Claude's—and that, perhaps,
+dear, you had a reason for refusing Claude, a reason of which I should
+not and could not disapprove. May," she said, taking my hand very
+kindly, "would you mind telling me your reason?"
+
+"I think you know it already, Miss Richards," I said, as I pressed her
+hand in mine.
+
+"Is it because Claude is not truly a Christian, dear; is that your
+reason?"
+
+"Yes, that is it," I said; "I dare not have said 'yes' to Claude, Miss
+Richards, in the face of God's clear command. I felt I could expect no
+happiness or blessing if I were so disobedient."
+
+"You were quite right, dear May," said Miss Richards, with tears in her
+eyes; "I should have done just the same. Indeed once, May (you will not
+mention it to any one, I know), I did exactly the same myself. It was
+very hard at the time," said the good little woman, as the recollection
+of that sorrow, now so far behind her in her past life, came as fresh
+as if it had only taken place yesterday; "it was very hard at the time,
+for I loved him very much, but I can see it was all right now. I should
+have been a miserable, unhappy wife, if I had married him, and I can
+thank God that I gave him up."
+
+"Then you can understand how I felt, dear Miss Richards," I said.
+
+"Yes, indeed," she said, earnestly; "and as soon as that thought
+occurred to me, as soon as ever it came into my mind, that that was
+your reason for refusing Claude, I felt, dear, that you were right, and
+I was wrong. You were right, perfectly right in obeying God's command;
+and I was wrong, very wrong, May, in wishing you to marry one who is
+not, I know, a real Christian."
+
+Miss Richards kissed me very lovingly, as she said this, and I went
+home with a light and thankful heart.
+
+Poor Miss Richards! I had never dreamt that there was a touching
+little love story hidden away somewhere in her past history. I had
+never dreamt that that was the reason why she had never married, but
+had lived that quiet, unselfish life in her brother's house—living for
+all around her. And I was very thankful that she thought I had acted
+rightly, and would no longer blame me, but would be able and ready to
+sympathise with me in my trial.
+
+The busy time of packing and leave-taking was at length over, and
+Maggie and I left our first and hitherto our only home.
+
+It is a merciful ordering that at such times we are far too busy, and
+full of thought and care about the present moment, to realise what
+would otherwise overwhelm us with sorrowful feeling. As we drove off
+from our old home, we had to turn back for a forgotten key, and then,
+almost directly afterwards, we arrived at the station, and I had to
+take the tickets, look after the luggage, and select a carriage. My
+mind was consequently so full of business, that not until the train had
+started did I realise that Maggie and I had left our dear happy home,
+never to return to it again.
+
+We were going that day to the old Manor House at Branston, where
+Maggie's aunts lived. They had kindly expressed a wish to see me, and
+had invited me to spend a week with them before going to Alliston Hall.
+Maggie was of course delighted at this arrangement, and I was not
+sorry to have a week's rest, after the whirl of the last month, before
+entering upon my new duties.
+
+This was my first visit to the old Manor House, but Maggie had spent
+a very pleasant month there two years before, and was much looking
+forward to seeing her aunts again.
+
+We had a long journey, and it was late in the evening when we arrived
+at Branston.
+
+"I should think John will be here," said Maggie, as we got out at the
+very quiet country station.
+
+John was there, awaiting our arrival. John was a fat,
+comfortable-looking old coachman, who had been in the family for more
+than fifty years, and looked as if, in the whole course of them, he had
+never had one single day's hard work.
+
+John was driving two horses equally fat, equally comfortable-looking,
+and equally, by their appearance, denying the bare idea of their ever
+having had any hard work to do.
+
+John touched his hat, and bade the ladies welcome, and hoped "Missy"
+was quite well. He was evidently quite at his ease, and accustomed to
+be regarded as a family friend.
+
+We thanked John, and answered his inquiries, and then took our seats
+in the carriage. It was very old, like John, and quite out of date, of
+unwieldy proportions, and made a great noise in the world.
+
+We drove for about a mile and a half, through rather an uninteresting
+country; at least, so it seemed to me, after the wooded hills and
+pretty valleys which had surrounded our dear old home. He went very
+slowly indeed, and when there was the slightest rising in the ground,
+the horses walked solemnly and cautiously up it, and I was more than
+ever convinced that the opinion I had formed about the easy life that
+those two comfortable-looking horses had always led was perfectly
+correct.
+
+At last we went through a large iron gate, and entered a pretty
+old-fashioned garden, surrounded by a high wall. At one end of this
+garden stood the Manor House, a quaint old place, built of red brick,
+and partly covered with ivy.
+
+As we drove past the window, Maggie's three aunts looked out, and
+nodded and smiled at us; they did not come out to meet us, for, as I
+afterwards discovered, they were very much afraid of taking cold, and
+never ventured into the hall when the front door was open.
+
+We were met on the steps by an elderly, old-fashioned servant, in a
+clean white apron and a large cap, plaited round her face. She took
+us into the drawing-room, which was full of quaint and antiquated
+furniture, and abounded in sofas and arm-chairs, covered with very
+old-fashioned chintz.
+
+In this room the three aunts were anxiously awaiting our arrival. They
+almost overwhelmed us with kindness, and insisted on our lying down to
+rest for half an hour on the comfortable sofas till tea was quite ready.
+
+The room was very hot, there was a large fire, and huge screens stood
+before the doors, and sandbags and curtains excluded every possible
+draught from the windows. I felt very tired and worn out in mind and
+body, so I was not sorry to obey my kind hostesses and remain quiet for
+half an hour. It gave me time to think over the events of the past day,
+and also to look at Maggie's three aunts, who did not leave the room
+but went on with their work and their talk whilst we were resting.
+
+The eldest sister, Miss Jane, was evidently the ruling spirit in the
+house. Her word was law, and her quiet firm decision settled every
+disputed question. There was plenty of firmness, plenty of good sense,
+plenty of real kindliness in her face, as she bent over the stocking
+which she was knitting in the most energetic manner, sitting in one of
+the large arm-chairs near the fire.
+
+The second sister seemed to me to be a weak reflection of the eldest
+one, and, I soon found out, was quite ruled by her in everything,
+for she had not strength of character to settle anything on her own
+responsibility. If Miss Jane's word was law to her household, it was
+more especially law to Miss Hannah.
+
+"What do you think, sister?" was the question repeated by her many
+times in the day, in answer to which Miss Jane would give her opinion
+calmly and decidedly, and that opinion was always conclusive.
+
+The youngest sister, Miss Louisa, was considered an invalid. The best
+of everything was always given to her—the most comfortable chair and
+the warmest corner, the best seat in the carriage, and at all hours of
+the day little tempting dishes were brought up to induce Miss Louisa to
+eat. Miss Jane and Miss Hannah were never tired of waiting on her, and
+treated her almost like a spoiled child.
+
+They were very kind to me, these three sisters, during my stay in the
+old Manor House. They even said how much they wished I would make my
+home with them; but, of course, I could never dream of being a burden
+to them; it was very kind of them to take Maggie, I must make my own
+way in the world.
+
+Everything in the Manor House was in the most beautiful order. The
+carpets looked as if in the whole course of their existence they had
+never known what it was to have a speck of dust or piece of cotton
+left on them; the furniture was so bright that you could see yourself
+reflected in every part of it; the drugget on the stairs was spotlessly
+white, as clean as if it was washed every morning regularly; in
+fact, the most perfect neatness, and order, and cleanliness reigned
+everywhere throughout the old Manor House. There were no little
+children to make dirty foot-marks on the clean floors, or to soil
+the clean coverings of the chairs and sofas. And the regularity and
+punctuality in the house quite equalled its neatness and order. At
+exactly the same moment every morning Miss Jane came downstairs to make
+the tea. At exactly the same instant, day by day, the old servants
+came into the room for prayers. Meals were never a moment late—as the
+clock struck we all took our seats, and grace was immediately said. At
+exactly the same hour, every day, the sisters took their morning drive
+or their afternoon nap.
+
+The whole place seemed like some huge clock which had been wound up
+years ago, long before any one could remember, and which had been going
+on and on and on ever since, without once needing to be wound up, or
+set going, or looked after again.
+
+This regular, unbroken, undisturbed life in the old Manor House was
+very pleasant for a little time. It was just what I needed, after all I
+had gone through lately. But I fancied that I should soon grow rather
+tired of it. I fancied that I should long for the doorbell to ring, and
+an interruption to come in my clockwork existence. I should long for a
+little of the stir and bustle and motion of the world outside, to creep
+into the monotony and unchangeableness of the life within.
+
+Small matters, even the most insignificant trifles, became great events
+to the sisters. If one of the cows or horses took cold, or if a tree
+was blown down in the garden, or if the rooks built a new nest in the
+plantation, it was the topic of conversation for days.
+
+I was a little troubled as I looked forward and pictured to myself the
+kind of training which Maggie would have in such a home. I was afraid
+it would be rather relaxing to her mind and energies, so that if she
+came out of it into the coldness and roughness of the outside world she
+would feel the difference very strongly, and would not be hardy enough
+to stand it.
+
+I was not afraid that Maggie would be dull here, for she was a quiet
+child, and fond of playing alone, and making her own amusements and
+pleasures; and there was a small farm close by, kept by old John and
+his wife, which was Maggie's constant resort, and here, amongst the
+chickens, and ducks, and lambs, and calves, and pigeons, she found
+plenty to interest her, and plenty of recreation and amusement. The
+aunts were exceedingly kind to her, and I felt sure they would train
+and teach her to the best of their ability.
+
+But what I was afraid of was, that Maggie's mind would got a little
+cramped by the smallness of the sphere in which she was living, and
+that she would thus become somewhat selfish and self-indulgent. Yet all
+these fears I carried one by one to my Lord, as they arose; and I felt
+unspeakable comfort and relief in placing my little sister under His
+Almighty care.
+
+Miss Jane was my favourite amongst the sisters. There was something in
+her face which made me trust her at once, and her good common sense and
+real heartfelt sympathy could always be relied upon. I found myself,
+almost before I was aware, giving her a history of our happy home-life,
+and telling her many of my anxieties and troubles, as I thought of the
+future. She made me promise that whenever I had a holiday given me I
+would come to the Manor House, and that I would remember that it would
+never be anything but a very great pleasure to them all to have me
+there.
+
+On Sunday we all went to the village church together. A new clergyman
+had just been appointed, and the sisters were hardly in a frame of mind
+to enjoy the services, for they had not ceased mourning over the late
+rector, who had been there for forty years, and who had been obliged to
+resign on account of ill-health. But as I had no recollections of the
+previous minister, and, therefore, no painful feelings on seeing the
+new minister enter Mr. Baker's pulpit, preach from Mr. Baker's Bible,
+and take possession of Mr. Baker's congregation, the service was a real
+delight to me.
+
+The young clergyman was plain in appearance, but he had a broad, high,
+thoughtful forehead, and he was evidently thoroughly in earnest.
+
+The sermon went to my heart; it was on this text:
+
+   "To be spiritually minded is life and peace."
+
+I came out of church feeling that the sermon I had just heard was
+one which I could not discuss or remark upon, but was one which I
+should never forget. It was a searching, practical sermon, and it
+had probed my heart to its very depths. What did I know of this
+spiritual-mindedness, of which Mr. Claremont spoke? What did I know
+of the life and peace which always spring from it? I felt that my
+thoughts, my motives, and my desires were far too much of the earth,
+earthy, far too little raised above the earth to things divine. And
+hence the want of life in my religion, hence the want of that deep and
+abiding peace which is the portion of all true believers in Jesus. I
+determined to pray more than ever before for this heavenly-mindedness,
+and to let my thoughts dwell less on earth, more on heaven.
+
+The next day Mr. Claremont called at the Manor House, and was received
+by the sisters with all respect and dignity. I was practising on the
+drawing-room piano when he came in, and was alone with him for a few
+minutes, whilst Miss Jane, Miss Hannah, and Miss Louisa were arraying
+themselves in their best caps.
+
+He spoke to me very pleasantly, and I took the opportunity of
+mentioning Maggie to him, and he kindly promised to see her sometimes,
+and try to influence her aright.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+FIRST IMPRESSIONS.
+
+[Illustration] IT was the day before I left the old Manor House. I was
+packing my box in my bedroom, and thinking it would be rather hard to
+leave the kind sisterhood, and my little Maggie, and turn out into
+the world alone, when the door opened and Maggie came in with an open
+letter in her hand.
+
+"Oh, May," she said, "what do you think? Claude Ellis is going to be
+married!"
+
+My heart beat so loudly that I was afraid Maggie would hear it, and I
+trembled so much that I was obliged to sit down on a chair by the bed.
+
+"May, dear," said Maggie, "what is the matter? You look so pale and
+ill. Shall I get you anything? I am afraid I startled you, coming in
+like that."
+
+"Oh no," I said, trying to smile, "I am all right. Read me your letter,
+Maggie—from whom is it?"
+
+"It is from Fanny, May." (Fanny was Maggie's bosom friend and
+confidante). "Shall I read it all, or only the part about Claude?"
+
+[Illustration: A DISCOVERY.]
+
+"Read the part about Claude first, dear," I said, "and I will lie down
+on my bed whilst you read; I feel a little tired with packing, and I
+mean to take half an hour's rest before dinner."
+
+So I lay on my bed and turned my face to the wall whilst Maggie read as
+follows:
+
+   "'And now I must tell you the news. Who do you think is engaged? You
+will never guess, if you guess all night. It is Claude Ellis! I will
+tell you how I heard about it. Yesterday afternoon I went for a walk
+with Dash to the Endle Farm. As we were coming home, down that hilly
+part of the road where you and I played hide-and-seek amongst the furze
+bushes, I saw two people sitting on a stile at the bottom of the hill.
+One was Claude Ellis, and the other was a young lady. They did not see
+me until I was very near to them, and then Claude pretended not to
+see me and got up, and they both walked down the lane, and I followed
+them only a little way behind, so that I could see the young lady very
+well. She was prettily dressed, and was tall and very good-looking.
+She had the loveliest hair I ever saw, done in a number of most
+wonderful plaits. I am sure she could not have done it herself. Claude
+was bending over her and talking to her; and he looked very happy,
+and so did she. They turned in at the Parsonage gate, and I went home
+wondering very much who she was.
+
+   "'But I had not to wait very long, for that evening papa came in with
+the news that Claude was engaged, and that the young lady was staying
+at the Parsonage. Mr. Ellis had told him, so there could be no mistake
+about it. She is the sister of one of Claude's Oxford friends; and he
+has been staying with them in Scotland the last few weeks. Her name is
+Alice Fitzgerald, and she is very rich indeed. Papa says she is quite
+a prize for Claude, and that he will be a very rich man now, with her
+money and his own money put together. And papa says, that is a very
+good thing, for he has heard that Claude spent a great many hundred
+pounds at Oxford, and that poor Mr. Ellis would have been almost ruined
+if Claude's uncle had not died just then and left him the money. Papa
+thinks Claude is very extravagant, and he says he rather pities his
+wife. But I am sure Claude is very fond of her, and he looked so happy
+to-day I could not help feeling glad for him. He seemed so miserable
+the last time he came home. Do you remember when we met him in Bush
+Lane, how cross he was, and how he contradicted everything we said, and
+looked as if he had just heard all his relations were dead? Well, it's
+getting late, and I must end my letter.'
+
+"That's all about Claude, May," said Maggie, as she stopped reading.
+"Wouldn't you like to see Miss Alice Fitzgerald?"
+
+When Maggie had gone downstairs, taking her new writing-case with her,
+that she might begin at once to answer her little friend's letter, I
+got up and locked my door, and then sat down to think over what I had
+heard.
+
+The news of Claude's engagement had come upon me like a thunder-clap.
+I tried to reason with myself that I ought to be very glad that Claude
+was engaged, and that as I could not be his wife he had found some
+one else to make him happy. And yet it was so soon, so very soon, for
+Claude to forget his love for me. I had thought that he cared for me
+more than that. I had thought that he held my love too dear, so quickly
+and so easily to exchange it for another's.
+
+I suppose it was my pride that was wounded, and that the tears which
+came, in spite of myself, and rolled down my cheeks, were tears of
+mortification. I felt very vexed with myself that it should be so. I
+called myself all sorts of hard names, and wiped my eyes, and tried to
+think how nice it was that all was so comfortably settled for me; how
+delightful it was that I could feel that I had done the right thing,
+and yet that I had not brought a gloom over the whole of Claude's life.
+And yet, at the bottom of my heart, I detected a secret hope, which had
+been hidden there the last few weeks, that, some day or other, Claude
+might give up his infidel notions and become a real Christian, and
+that then we might meet again and become to each other what he had so
+earnestly wished us to be. I had even thought that perhaps this trouble
+might be the means of making Claude look into the reality of religion,
+and believe in that Saviour who is the only true source of comfort, and
+that thus the great obstacle to our union might be taken away.
+
+Not that Claude was by any means my beau-ideal of all that a man and
+a husband should be. But then he was, after all, the nicest man I had
+ever met, and it might be that my ideal was a thing of imagination,
+never met with in real life.
+
+And on this particular day I was feeling very lonely and desolate. I
+was about to turn out into the world alone—alone amongst strangers.
+I was going to a great and fashionable household, where, no doubt, I
+should be looked down upon, and despised as poor, and a dependent.
+
+I had no one to take care of me, or to shield me from the rough places
+which I should be sure to come across. There was no one in the world
+that really belonged to me except my sister Maggie, and she was but
+a child. I felt very unprotected, desolate, and forsaken. I took up
+my Bible and turned wearily over the pages, if, perchance, my eyes
+might fall upon some words of comfort. And the words which caught my
+attention were these, in the thirteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel:
+
+   "Having loved His own which were in the world, He loved them unto the
+end."
+
+"Unto the end," an unchanging, an unvarying, an untiring love. I had
+chosen that love in preference to Claude's. Had I made a bad exchange?
+I had given up a love which had proved itself, at the best, but fickle
+and shallow, and I had chosen Christ's love, the love of Him of whom
+it was written, that having loved His own which were in the world, He
+loved them unto the end.
+
+"His 'own.'" Did that indeed mean me? Or did it only apply to the few
+disciples gathered round Him in these last hours of His life on earth?
+Was it only these whom He loved unto the end? Or could I take up the
+words, and make them my star of comfort? Could I make them apply to
+myself now, as they applied to the apostles then?
+
+Was it true now that I was His—His own? Was it true that I was in the
+world—in the wide, desolate world, alone, just as these apostles were
+so soon to be, and was it true that He would love me in spite of all my
+failings and all my sins, and that He would love me unto the end? Could
+it be true?
+
+Another text came into my mind:
+
+   "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever."
+
+These words surely gave me the right to take the other words and make
+them mine. What Jesus was then, in the yesterday of the past, so He
+is now, to-day; what He was to the apostles, so He is to me, and so
+He ever will be—the same in love, the same in sympathy, the same in
+constancy.
+
+But I am so cold to Him, I thought, so ungrateful, so sinful. My love
+is so changeable and fluctuating. Surely He will not, He cannot, in
+spite of all this, go on loving me—loving me unchangeably. And yet, I
+know that Christ's love for us, if it exists at all, must exist quite
+independently of anything in us, for what can He see in the very best
+of men to win His love?
+
+And I remembered that these very apostles, of whom this was written,
+were very faulty and imperfect in their love to Him. Only the very
+next day one of them, the one who had professed the most love for Him,
+denied Him with oaths and curses, saying, again and again, "I know not
+the man." And every one of them, even the disciple whom Jesus loved,
+forsook Him in His hour of need and fled.
+
+And yet of these very men, with all their failings and imperfections,
+it was written:
+
+   "Having loved His own which were in the world, He loved them unto the
+end."
+
+My heart grew light again, and I went downstairs quite comforted and
+happy, and without a single wish in my heart to change places with Miss
+Alice Fitzgerald.
+
+The next morning I left the Manor House soon after breakfast. I was
+followed to the door by Miss Jane bidding me, in her calm, decided way,
+to be sure to choose a carriage with at least two elderly ladies in it,
+"because, my dear, one reads of such awful robberies and murders taking
+place in railway carriages!" Followed also by Miss Hannah, entreating
+me to remember what Miss Jane had said, and also to be quite sure that
+the guard had fastened the door well before the train started. Followed
+even by Miss Louisa, suggesting the advisability of always having
+both windows closed, and both ventilators securely fastened, lest any
+draught should enter the carriage. Followed, not only to the door but
+as far as the garden gate, by my little Maggie, sobbing as if her heart
+would break, and refusing to be comforted.
+
+It was very hard to leave them all, and especially to leave my little
+sister, and to go forth alone into the world; but the words which had
+been my comfort yesterday were my strength now, and the language of my
+heart was,—
+
+   "I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me."
+
+
+How much I wondered, as I was travelling that day, what Miss Evelyn
+Trafford would be like, and of what my duties, as companion, would
+consist. But it was of no use wondering; that evening I should know.
+
+I had a long, tiring journey, having to change my train no less than
+four times, and to wait at cold, cheerless junctions for several hours.
+
+But in spite of the sisters' oft-repeated predictions of the reverse, I
+and my luggage arrived safe and sound at the little station of Alliston.
+
+As soon as I left the carriage, a footman came up to me, and,
+touching his hat, inquired if I was Miss Lindsay. When I answered in
+the affirmative, he took charge of my luggage, and led the way to a
+carriage which was waiting for me outside the station.
+
+We drove on in the darkness for some distance, through what seemed to
+be country roads and lanes, for I could see no lights by the wayside,
+and nothing to break the darkness of the night.
+
+After a long time the carriage stopped in front of a small house, which
+I saw must be a lodge, for by means of the light which came from a
+diamond-paned window I could see a woman opening some large iron gates
+for the carriage to go through.
+
+When we had passed the lodge, I expected every moment to reach the
+house, and my heart beat faster and faster in expectation of my
+arrival. But we went on and on and on for at least a mile before the
+lights of the great house appeared, and we stopped before the door.
+
+The footman got down from the carriage and rang the bell. The door was
+opened by a grave and solemn butler, and I went inside, feeling as if
+I were walking in my sleep, so tired and confused was I with my long
+journey.
+
+I was ushered through a spacious hall, filled with stags' horns and
+old swords, and stuffed birds and foreign curiosities, and old oak
+cabinets, up a very wide staircase to a room at the top of the house.
+It was not a large room, but it was very pretty and comfortable, and a
+cheerful fire was blazing in the grate.
+
+The maid who had shown me my room told me that Miss Trafford would be
+glad to see me as soon as I was ready, so I hastened to take off my
+dusty travelling dress and to make myself ready to go downstairs.
+
+After about half an hour the maid came back again to conduct me. We
+went through several long passages, past a number of doors, until we
+arrived at Miss Evelyn Trafford's room.
+
+The maid opened the door and I went in. The gas was not lighted, but
+the fire was blazing brightly, and by its light I could see a young
+lady lying on a low couch on one side of it. She was very pretty, with
+small, delicate features, and a beautiful fair complexion, and appeared
+to be about seventeen or eighteen years of age. On the sofa beside her
+were lying two kittens curled up on a velvet cushion, and in front of
+the fire was a little spaniel fast asleep on the hearth-rug.
+
+As soon as the door opened Miss Trafford hold out her hand to me.
+
+"Come in, Miss Lindsay," she said; "come to the fire; you must be tired
+and cold; it's dreadfully cold out, is it not? There, Flossy, get up
+and let Miss Lindsay come to the fire."
+
+She had a pretty, childish manner, which was very winning and pleasant.
+"I am so glad you have come," she said, when I was seated, "and you
+look so nice. Do you know I thought you would be dreadful, before you
+came! When papa said one day that it was so dull for me up here alone
+he must get me a companion, I actually cried, Miss Lindsay. It was very
+silly of me, I know, but then I always am a silly child. I pictured to
+myself what this companion would be like, and I thought she would have
+grey curls, and spectacles, and a brown alpaca dress, and always talk
+as if she were talking out of a book."
+
+I could not help laughing heartily when she said this.
+
+"Oh, I am so glad you can laugh," said Miss Trafford; "the companion,
+in the picture I made of her, never laughed—she only smiled, as if she
+was thinking, 'How foolish every one in the world is, and especially
+this weak-minded child I have to take care of.'"
+
+This, of course, made me laugh again, to Miss Trafford's great
+satisfaction.
+
+"Papa said he would get me somebody young and charming if he could, and
+he told me when he was writing about you how old you were, but I didn't
+think I should like you a bit, and I didn't want you to come at all."
+
+"I hope you will change your mind soon, Miss Trafford," I said; "I will
+try not to be very disagreeable."
+
+"Oh, I have changed my mind," she said, quickly; "I changed it as soon
+as you came in at the door. I always judge by first sight. If I love
+people when I first see them, I always love them; and if I hate them, I
+always hate them. I never change my mind afterwards."
+
+"Do you think that is a good plan?" I said. "Don't you think it is
+rather an unfair way of judging?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know about that," she said; "it always answers very well
+for me. I liked you when you came in at the door, and I mean always to
+like you. I wish Ambrose would bring the dinner, the gong sounded long
+since. I am sure it is time for it, and you must be so hungry. Miss
+Lindsay, will you please ring the bell?"
+
+One of the footmen soon appeared with a small round table, which he
+placed between Miss Trafford's couch and my chair. The table was
+already prepared for dinner, with everything in its proper place.
+
+"Oh, it is so nice to have you here," said Miss Trafford. "Do you
+know, I haven't been downstairs to dinner for five months. Isn't that
+dreadful? And I have always had dinner quite alone, except twice, when
+there was no one staying here, and then papa came up to my room and
+had dinner here. It was such fun; he and I had this little table, and
+Ambrose came in here to wait. I laughed all the time, and so did papa;
+it seemed such a little room after the dining-room, and the three men
+did not at all know where to stand, because there was no room for them
+to come close to the table."
+
+"Then you have only been ill five months?" I said.
+
+"Only five months! As if that were not long enough," she said; "it
+seems more like five years to me!"
+
+"Yes, it is a long time," I said; "but I was afraid you might have been
+ill longer still. I do not know what made you ill."
+
+"Didn't papa tell you? How funny of him! Now, if I had been writing to
+you, I should have told you the whole story. What did he tell you?"
+
+"He only said that he wanted a companion for his daughter, and asked
+for my references."
+
+"That was just like papa," said Evelyn; "he always does everything
+in what he calls a business-like way, which I always say means never
+telling anybody anything."
+
+"Will you tell me what made you ill?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, it was that young horse," she said; "such a beauty! You must
+see him, Miss Lindsay; he is quite black, and has a white star on his
+forehead, and his name is Wildfire, because he flies along so fast.
+Papa said he was too young for me to ride; but I was not a bit afraid,
+and Cousin Donald asked me to go out with him for an hour. Cousin
+Donald is very fond of me," she said, laughing; "he would like me to
+marry him; but that would never do, you know. Papa says he is very
+poor, and he would not hear of such a thing. But Cousin Donald is very
+good-looking, and I like riding with him, he rides so well, and we had
+a splendid ride that day; but then Wildfire threw me, and all my fun
+was over."
+
+"Were you much hurt?" I asked.
+
+"Yes," she said; "the doctors said my spine was injured; only a little
+though," she added, quickly, "and if I keep very, very still, and never
+walk about for a year, they think I shall be quite well again. Oh dear!
+I wish the year was over now! But it will be much nicer now you have
+come."
+
+"You must tell me, please, Miss Trafford, what my duties are," I said.
+
+"Oh, don't talk about duties," she said, pretending to stop her ears;
+"I can't bear the word. I never could do anything because it was a
+duty. That's just the sort of word the companion in my picture used to
+say. She used to draw up her head and look through her spectacles, and
+say, solemnly, 'Miss Evelyn, remember your duties.'"
+
+"But you will tell me what my work is to be here," I repeated; "Sir
+William did not mention it in his letter."
+
+"You won't have any work," she said, "except to amuse me; you are to be
+my friend, if you like to call that work—to read to me, and talk to me,
+and have meals with me, and make the year go a little quicker."
+
+"That isn't very hard work," I said.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," she answered; "you'll find me a very tiresome child
+sometimes, and if you had been the brown alpaca dress, and grey curls,
+and spectacles, I would have led you such a life that in less than a
+week you would have said to papa, 'Sir William Trafford, I must beg to
+resign the charge of your flippant and wilful daughter.' Before you
+came, papa said we were to have some profitable reading in a morning,
+and story-books only after luncheon; but I hate profitable reading, and
+papa never makes me do what I hate."
+
+"What kind of reading do you mean?" I inquired.
+
+"Oh, history and geography, and all such things; I never could bear
+them. What is the good of knowing who Henry VIII.'s wives were, and
+which of them he beheaded; and nearly giving oneself brain fever in
+trying to remember what relation John of Gaunt was to everybody else."
+
+"I am very fond of history," I said; "I think some parts are quite as
+interesting as a story-book."
+
+"Oh dear, oh dear!" she said. "You are talking just like the brown
+alpaca dress! I shall expect you to pull the spectacles out of your
+pocket in a minute."
+
+And then I could do nothing but laugh, and in a moment she had changed
+the conversation, and was rattling on about something else.
+
+"There are not many visitors here just now," she said; "you'll see them
+all by and by. They generally pay me a visit after dinner. And mind you
+stop when they come; I want you to see them all. The brown alpaca dress
+always got up when any one came in, and made a very stiff bow, and went
+away and shut herself up in her bedroom. So mind you don't do the same;
+you must look at all the people well, and tell me what you think of
+them, when they are gone."
+
+"Oh, I should not like to do that," I said.
+
+"Why not?" she said, laughingly. "I don't mind telling you what I think
+of any one. There is Lady Eldridge; she is very grand and stately,
+and I don't like her a bit; and there is Lord Moreton—he never has a
+word to say, and is very stupid; but he has a quantity of money and a
+splendid estate, and papa is always saying what a nice young man he is.
+And so he may be, perhaps, in some ways; at least he is very harmless,
+but then he squints, and I never could marry any one who squinted—could
+you, Miss Lindsay?"
+
+"I don't know," I said, laughing; "I never thought about it."
+
+"Well, I couldn't, it would drive me mad. And then there is Alicia
+Hay—papa's old maid cousin—and if you ask me what I think of her, I
+think she is trying very hard to get married and never will. And then
+there is Lilla—but I won't tell you about them all now, you will see
+them for yourself by and by."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ALLISTON HALL.
+
+[Illustration] "SHALL I ring the bell, Miss Trafford?" I inquired, when
+dinner was over.
+
+"Don't call me Miss Trafford," she said, quickly; "call me Evelyn, it
+sounds much nicer, and is six letters shorter."
+
+"But perhaps Sir William would not like it," I objected.
+
+"Oh, papa likes everything I like," she said, decidedly. "I wish you
+to call me Evelyn, and I mean to call you by your first name too—'Miss
+Lindsay' sounds just like the brown alpaca. What is your Christian
+name?"
+
+"My name is May," I said; "and I shall be very glad if you will call me
+May, instead of Miss Lindsay; I shall fancy I am at home again."
+
+"Well then it's settled, May," she said, laughing; "and now you may
+ring the bell."
+
+Soon after the dessert was cleared away, a rustling of silk was heard
+in the passages, the door opened, and three ladies entered the room.
+
+The first was a stout, elderly lady, very handsomely dressed. In her
+younger days I felt sure she had been a beauty, and I think she must
+have been greatly admired. But she had, I thought, an unpleasant
+expression in her face, and a haughty and disagreeable manner.
+
+"Well, Evelyn," she said, as she swept past me without a word or a
+look, "how are you feeling now?"
+
+"Oh, very nicely, thank you, Lady Eldridge," she said; "Miss Lindsay
+and I have had quite a pleasant chat together."
+
+"Miss Lindsay, ah! Yes, I see," said Lady Eldridge, turning to me for
+the first time; "the young person whom Sir William has engaged as your
+companion, Evelyn, I believe."
+
+And then she took no further notice of me, but sat upon the sofa at
+Evelyn's side, fanning herself vigorously.
+
+There was something in Lady Eldridge's manner which made me
+uncomfortable and uneasy, and I had withdrawn to the table with my work
+as the two other ladies advanced to the fire, not intending to take any
+part in the conversation, when a pleasant, gentle voice by my side said
+kindly, "You must be tired with your long journey, Miss Lindsay; had
+you to stop many times by the way?"
+
+I looked up and met one of the sweetest faces I have ever seen. It was
+not exactly a pretty face, and the features were far from handsome, but
+there was such a beautiful expression upon it that you could never have
+called it plain. I should have been very puzzled if any one had asked
+me how old she was. At one time she looked quite young, not more than
+four or five and twenty; and the moment afterwards I detected strong
+marks of care, or anxiety, or trouble on the face, which made me think
+she must be at least ten or fifteen years older.
+
+I told her about my journey, and then she asked me one question after
+another, in the kindest, pleasantest way, as if she really cared to
+know all I had to tell her. She led me on from one subject to another,
+and I found myself telling her of our old home; of Maggie, and my hopes
+and fears for her; and of many other things, whilst Lady Eldridge
+and Evelyn were talking together on the sofa; and all the chill and
+repression which had come over me when Lady Eldridge entered the room
+entirely passed away, and I felt perfectly at my ease again.
+
+When I told her of our leaving our dear old home, her eyes filled with
+tears, and she said quietly, "I know what a trial that is; I have gone
+through it myself. What a comfort that there is one home where there
+will be no parting and no going away!"
+
+Such a happy, thankful feeling came into my heart as she said this.
+There was something in the way she said it, as well as in the words
+themselves, which made me feel sure that my new friend was one who
+loved the same Lord I loved. And, if I had felt drawn to her before, I
+was doubly drawn to her now.
+
+We had no opportunity for further conversation, for Evelyn was growing
+weary of Lady Eldridge, and invited us to come nearer to the fire.
+
+"Put away your work, you industrious girl," she said to me. "The brown
+alpaca always had her work close to her fingers' ends at a moment's
+notice."
+
+"My dear Evelyn," said Lady Eldridge, "a most profitable way for a
+young person."
+
+But Evelyn took no notice of her, and turned to my new friend.
+
+"Where have you been all day, Lilla?" she said. "You have only been to
+see me three times."
+
+"Have I been so negligent as that, dear?" she said. "I must mend my
+manners to-morrow; but I have been very busy writing letters, so you
+must forgive me."
+
+Until I had turned to the fire I had not looked at the third lady who
+had come into the room. She was sitting languidly in an arm-chair by
+the fire, with her eyes fixed on the door, as if she were looking
+anxiously for some one to enter. She was decidedly advanced in middle
+age, yet she was dressed like a girl of seventeen: in a low, white
+evening dress, and a most elaborate gold chain and locket round her
+neck. She looked dissatisfied and restless, as if she was always
+striving to reach some object which was eluding her grasp. She took no
+particular interest in the general conversation which was going on, but
+seemed either lost in thought, or not thinking at all.
+
+Lady Eldridge was giving an account of Eastern life, which she
+described as the most delightful life on earth. I found she had lived
+many years abroad, and was going to Constantinople the following
+spring. She could not settle in England more than a year at a time, she
+said.
+
+"Those miserable skies; those depressing fogs; those dreadful rainy
+days, enough to make any one commit suicide who has lived in the
+East, my dear." And Lady Eldridge fanned herself again at the bare
+recollection of it.
+
+She kept up a continual run of conversation for about half an hour;
+but she gave me the idea of being a woman who had hardly opened a book
+in the whole course of her life, and who was thoroughly ignorant of
+everything except the worldly ways of the worldly world—in which she
+seemed to be anything but ignorant.
+
+But her chattering was brought to a close by a rap at the door, and the
+announcement that the gentlemen had arrived in the drawing-room.
+
+"Those tiresome men!" said Lady Eldridge. "As if they could not amuse
+themselves for half an hour without sending for us. Well, Alicia,
+I suppose we must obey the lords of creation and go downstairs.
+Good-night, Evelyn, my dear."
+
+And, without taking the slightest notice of me, Lady Eldridge sailed
+out of the room.
+
+The other two ladies said good-night to both of us and followed in her
+train, and Evelyn and I were left alone.
+
+"Well, what do you think of them?" she said, as soon as the door was
+shut. "Bring your chair close to the fire and tell me."
+
+"I think that the lady who sat near me has one of the sweetest faces
+that I ever saw," I said. "I could quite believe in any one loving her
+at first sight."
+
+"Oh, Lilla, yes; isn't she nice?" said Evelyn, carelessly. "Every one
+seems to like poor Lilla."
+
+"Why do you call her poor?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, because she has had so much trouble," Evelyn answered; "she was
+engaged to a young officer a good many years ago, and it was broken
+off; his father persuaded him to marry some one with more money. Lilla
+is papa's first cousin, and she often stays here; it is very dull for
+her at home; her father has married again, and his new wife is such a
+horrid old thing, who treats Lilla as if she were a child of twelve.
+But Lilla never complains; she is very patient. And what did you think
+of Lady Eldridge?"
+
+"I had rather not say, please, Evelyn; I do not think it is very kind
+to talk about people so much."
+
+"Oh, it won't hurt Lady Eldridge, I assure you," she answered; "she
+is miles too high up in the world to be hurt by anything you or I may
+say or think of her—at least she thinks that she is. Papa says she
+has nothing to boast of, if her antecedents were looked into. She was
+quite poor, and lived in some remote Eastern city, when her good looks
+attracted Sir Hugh Eldridge's attention, as he was passing through
+the place, and he married her. But she thinks herself a perfect queen
+now, and lords it over everybody. I often pity her poor maid. It is
+'Lawrence, here;' 'Lawrence, do this;' 'Lawrence, do that;' from
+morning till night; for Lady Eldridge thinks it is a disgrace to do
+the simplest thing for herself, or even to know how it ought to be
+done. She boasts of being ignorant as a baby about all money matters,
+and cannot even pay a bill for herself. Silly old thing!" said Evelyn,
+contemptuously. "I have more respect for Alicia Hay than I have for
+her."
+
+"Is that the lady who sat in the arm-chair by the fire?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, poor thing!" said Evelyn. "She wouldn't talk a bit to-night. I
+know why, just as well as if I had been there. It was just because Lord
+Moreton didn't take her down to dinner;" and Evelyn laughed at the
+thought of it. "Didn't you see how she looked at the door every time
+a step came in the passage? Because sometimes papa comes up for a few
+minutes on his way to the drawing-room, to cheer me up a little, and
+sometimes he brings one of the gentlemen with him; but they didn't come
+to-night, so poor Alicia was quite disconsolate; she had not the heart
+to talk to any one. And if she only know—oh, if she only knew—what Lord
+Moreton really thinks of her!"
+
+"Poor thing!" I said. "Is she very fond of him?"
+
+"Oh, not of him in particular," said Evelyn, laughing; "but you see
+poor Alicia is getting old; she really is, though she would be very
+angry if any one told her so, and she wants very much to be married,
+and to have a home of her own."
+
+I was not sorry when Evelyn asked me to ring the bell for her maid
+Clemence, and I was at liberty to go to my own room, for I was very
+tired after all the travelling and excitement I had gone through that
+day.
+
+I lay awake for many hours, watching the flickering of the firelight,
+and listening for the striking of a large clock in the hall, whose
+deep, sonorous voice could be heard in every part of the great house.
+
+
+The next morning I awoke before it was light, and had been dressed
+for more than an hour before Clemence came to conduct me to her young
+mistress's dressing-room. I found Evelyn lying on a sofa by the
+dressing-room fire, in a pretty pink dressing-gown, and with her fair
+hair hanging down in long waving tresses. She looked a perfect picture,
+I thought, and one that any artist would take pleasure in painting. She
+seemed pleased to see me, but was languid and tired, and not so much
+inclined for talking as she had been the night before.
+
+Breakfast was brought up soon after I arrived, and, whilst we were
+eating it, the door opened, and an elderly gentleman came in. He had
+evidently been very handsome in his younger days, and there was a
+cheerful, pleasant, good-tempered expression on his face, which made
+him look younger than I imagine he really was.
+
+"Oh, papa," said Evelyn, brightening up the moment that she saw him, "I
+am so glad you have come! How naughty of you not to come last night! I
+wanted you so much to see Miss Lindsay—May, I call her now," she added,
+laughing.
+
+Sir William shook hands with me very kindly, and said he hoped I should
+soon feel at home, and that his little daughter would not wear me out
+with her chattering.
+
+"Now, papa, what nonsense!" said Evelyn, gaily. "May was at home
+when she had been here ten minutes, were you not, May? And she likes
+chattering just as much as I do. You talk just as if she was the brown
+alpaca I told you about. But she is not a bit like her; she is so nice,
+papa, and we get on together famously."
+
+"That's right," said Sir William, seating himself on the sofa; "and how
+is my little puss this morning?"
+
+"Only a little tired, papa," she said, wearily; "the pain kept me awake
+last night."
+
+He looked at her very anxiously, I thought, as he stooped over her, and
+gently arranged her pillows, as carefully and tenderly as any woman
+could have done.
+
+"Keep very quiet this morning, little girl," he said; "I will not let
+any of them come near you. Miss Lindsay will read to you, and you can
+lie quite still."
+
+"Oh no, thank you, papa," she said, cheerfully, "let them all come; it
+does me good to have people coming in and out; it amuses me; they are
+so funny, some of them, aren't they, papa? Don't they make you laugh
+sometimes?"
+
+Sir William made some evasive answer, and glanced towards the end of
+the room, where I was sitting at work.
+
+"Oh, you need not mind her, papa," said Evelyn aloud, "she is not the
+brown alpaca. I mean to tell her everything, and to talk just the same
+when she is in the room as when she is out of it."
+
+Sir William seemed rather amused at the rapid friendship that had
+sprung up between us, but it did not appear to displease him, for he
+smiled kindly at me, and gave me a few more words of welcome as he rose
+to leave the room. But when he got to the door he said gravely:
+
+"Lord Moreton is very anxious to see you this morning, Evelyn; shall I
+let him come when you got into the other room?"
+
+Evelyn laughed heartily.
+
+"Yes, if it is any amusement to him, papa," she said; "I am sure he
+amuses me. Oh! If you had only seen him the other day; he came up when
+Alicia Hay was sitting beside me, and neither of them spoke a word.
+He sat looking at me, and she sat looking at him; and they were both
+perfectly stupid."
+
+"Lord Moreton is a very worthy young man, Evelyn," said her father,
+gravely.
+
+"Oh, a very worthy young man," she repeated, in exactly the same tone,
+so exactly that I could scarcely keep from smiling; "but the worst is,
+papa, that I don't like very worthy young men; they are so dreadfully
+uninteresting—at least, if Lord Moreton is a specimen—they sit and
+look at you, and then clear their throats, and try to make some feeble
+remark, and break down in the middle. Oh dear! It is so amusing. Now
+Cousin Donald never does that; he can make himself very agreeable; I
+wish he would come to see me."
+
+"Donald has other business to attend to," said her father, rather
+sharply; "he has no time to lose now. Donald must make his way in the
+world."
+
+"Yes," she said, rather sadly; "poor Donald!"
+
+"I do not know why he need be pitied," said Sir William, dryly; "if he
+will only work, he will soon be able to earn a very fair income."
+
+"But Donald does not like work," said Evelyn; "he says he would like to
+be independent, and to have plenty—plenty of money."
+
+"He never will have plenty of money," said Sir William, almost angrily,
+as he shut the door.
+
+"Papa does not like poor Donald," she said, as soon as he was out of
+hearing; "but he is so handsome, and he has such nice brown eyes. I do
+not know why papa dislikes him so much. I think it is because he is
+afraid he likes me too much. It is very strange that he does like me. I
+should have thought that he would have hated me; because if I had never
+been born, Cousin Donald would have lived here, and would have been
+just like papa's son. That makes me feel so sorry for him."
+
+"Is he much older than you?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, he is six years older," said Evelyn; "and papa and mamma had been
+married a long time, and they thought they would not have any children
+of their own, so papa was talking of adopting Cousin Donald, and
+educating him and leaving the property to him. Uncle and aunt were very
+pleased about it, because they have so many children. Cousin Donald is
+the eldest of thirteen now, and there were plenty of them even then,
+so they were quite willing to spare him to papa. But of course when I
+came, I put an end to all that little plan," she said, laughing.
+
+"And where is your cousin Donald now?"
+
+"Oh, poor fellow, he is in a bank, and he does so hate doing sums;
+he always did. They make his head ache, he says. He likes riding and
+shooting and fishing, and all such things, just the kind of life he
+would have had here, you know; it is very hard for him, is it not? And
+I am afraid he is rather lazy, and they say he wastes his money. But he
+is so good-looking, and I really think he cannot help it—yes, I really
+think he cannot help it."
+
+"Cannot help what?" I inquired.
+
+"Oh, being extravagant," she explained. "He buys beautiful little
+bouquets for his button-hole, and all sorts of little unnecessary
+things of that kind, and the money goes very fast. But it must be so
+hard to see pretty things and not to be able to buy them. I should
+never be able to do that; as soon as ever I see anything I like, I send
+into the shop and have it brought out to me at once."
+
+I smiled to myself as I went on with my work, for I was thinking how
+different Evelyn's experience had been from mine. She seemed to guess
+my thoughts.
+
+"I suppose you have not always had everything that you wanted and
+wished for?" she said.
+
+"Everything I really wanted—yes," I answered; "everything I may have
+wished for—no."
+
+"Oh dear! Was it not very tiresome?" she asked.
+
+"I think it was good for me," I said.
+
+"Good for you!" she repeated. "That's just like the brown alpaca. How
+could it be good for you?"
+
+"I think it made me enjoy all the more the good things which were given
+me," I said—"things that perhaps you might have thought nothing of, and
+things which would have given you no pleasure at all."
+
+"What sort of things?" asked Evelyn.
+
+"Oh, any little present that was given me; any new book, or picture;
+any little pleasure, or treat of any kind. We had so few new things,
+that when anything fresh came, it was prized and valued more than I can
+tell you. I really think it gave us more enjoyment than far grander
+things would give you."
+
+"Oh, I dare say," said Evelyn; "there are some things that I wish for
+just a minute, and then when they come I do not care for them. If you
+only saw the number of books on those shelves, the leaves of which have
+never been out. I wished for them, and ordered them, but when they
+arrived I had given up wishing for them, and I have never begun to read
+them."
+
+I thought of the little shelves at home which had held my small
+library, each volume of which was the prized gift of some friend, and
+which had been read and re-read, until I know their contents almost by
+heart.
+
+Before I had been long at Alliston Hall, I came to the conclusion that
+the enjoyment of this life is much more evenly distributed than many of
+us think. For where pleasures are many, the enjoyment that they give is
+comparatively small; whilst where they are few and far between, they
+cause so much larger an amount of enjoyment, that the lives of those
+who receive them are quite as full of sunshine and brightness as they
+would be if their pleasures were more in number.
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+CONSCIENCE AT WORK.
+
+[Illustration] MY life at Alliston Hall was a very happy one. Day after
+day went by without any care or anxiety, and every one was so kind to
+me that I could not feel lonely or homeless any longer.
+
+The more I knew of Evelyn Trafford, the more I loved her. In spite of
+her light, careless way of talking, there was a great deal of genuine
+kind feeling in her, and I am sure she did all in her power to make me
+happy. I never once remember, the whole time I was with her, feeling
+uncomfortable on account of my position in the house. Both Sir William
+and Evelyn treated me as if I were one of the family, and I received
+nothing but kindness from their numerous visitors and friends. Lady
+Eldridge was the only exception. She, whenever she made her appearance
+at Alliston Hall, thought it her duty to keep me fully aware who she,
+Lady Eldridge, was, and who I, May Lindsay, was, and of the immense and
+immeasurable distance between us.
+
+The guests at Alliston Hall did not pay very long visits, so I had
+constant change and variety in my life, and heard and saw a great deal
+more of the outer world than in our quiet country home.
+
+And yet, although everything around me was so pleasant, and though
+every one was so kind to me, I had not been many months at Alliston
+Hall before I began to feel restless and unhappy. For I felt that I was
+not walking so closely with God as I had done before. I had become cold
+and careless, rising late in the morning and hurrying over my prayers,
+and then going through the day in an idle, careless spirit, hardly ever
+thinking of my Lord or trying to please Him.
+
+For some time this did not make me at all unhappy. I had so much to
+think of, and there were so many pleasant visitors staying in the
+house, and so many books to be read, and there was so much to be done
+to amuse Evelyn and to make the days pass happily for her, that I gave
+myself no time to think about the state of my soul. But the visitors
+left and we were quiet again; and then I felt an empty, dissatisfied
+feeling in my heart, which I cannot put into words. My conscience was
+very busy now, and brought to my recollection all my neglect of my
+best and dearest Friend, all my coldness and indifference to Him. I
+would have given anything to feel His presence as in times past; but He
+seemed far away from me, and I felt too cold even to pray to Him. But
+though I had so terribly forgotten Him, my Lord still remembered me.
+
+It was Sunday afternoon. Evelyn had fallen asleep on the sofa, and I
+went out into the garden till she awoke. There had been showers all the
+morning, but now the sun was shining brightly, and the rain-drops were
+sparkling like diamonds on the grass.
+
+I went along one of the grassy terraces, and turned down a quiet path,
+shut in by evergreens, which led by a gentle descent down to the sea.
+This was my favourite walk, and I always chose it when I came out
+alone. There were several seats on this path, so situated as to catch
+a peep of the sea through the shrubs and trees, which grew down to its
+very edge.
+
+As I turned a corner in this winding path, I suddenly came upon Miss
+Lilla Irvine, sitting upon one of the seats reading her Bible. I
+apologised for disturbing her, and was going to turn back, when she
+asked me if I would not stay a little and read with her.
+
+"You and I love the same Lord, May," she said; "I know we do, and I
+think it would help us to talk together of Him sometimes; at least,"
+she added, "I am sure it would help me."
+
+"Oh, Miss Irvine," I said, as I sat down beside her, "if you only knew—"
+
+"If I only knew what?" she said, gently.
+
+"If you only knew how careless I have been lately; I have hardly
+thought about Him at all."
+
+"What has been the matter, May?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," I answered; "I think everything has been too smooth
+and nice lately; somehow, it is easier to do right when the road is
+rather rough; don't you think it is, Miss Irvine?"
+
+"Yes," she said; "when things go wrong, and all seems against us, we
+are driven to prayer, May—we feel we must pray then; but we ought not
+to need driving into our dear Lord's presence."
+
+"Oh no," I said; "I know we ought not."
+
+"And oh, May," she said, earnestly, "if we get self-confident, and
+leave off prayer, we shall soon have a fall; we are not safe for a
+single moment if we are not strong in the Lord and in the power of His
+might. You will be having a fall if you do not come back to Him, May."
+
+"I wish I could come back, Miss Irvine," I said, "but it is easier
+to get wrong than to get right again. I got up this morning rather
+earlier, and tried to pray, but I could not fix my thoughts on what I
+was saying; all sorts of things kept coming into my mind, and I gave it
+up at last."
+
+"Yes," she said, "I know what that is; heart answers to heart. I have
+often found it so; when I have left God, and have been pleasing myself,
+I have lost the power to pray."
+
+"How is it, Miss Irvine?" I asked.
+
+"I think," she said, "that the Holy Spirit has been grieved, and
+without His help we cannot pray."
+
+"Then what do you think I should do?" I asked.
+
+"I think," she said, "you should go back to the Lord, just in the
+same spirit in which you first came to Him. Go to Him, and ask Him to
+receive you—to take away all the sin which is separating you from Him,
+and to give you the comfort of His presence again. And then I think you
+should especially pray that you may once more have the help of the Holy
+Spirit. I like that old hymn so much:
+
+   "'Return, O Holy Dove, return,
+       Sweet messenger of rest;
+     I hate the sins which made Thee mourn,
+       And drove Thee from my breast.
+
+   "'So shall my walk be close with God,
+       Calm and serene my frame,
+     So purer light shall mark the road
+       That leads me to the Lamb.'
+
+"Will you not go back to Him at once, May?" she said, laying her hand
+upon mine.
+
+"Oh, Miss Irvine, I will; indeed I will," I said.
+
+"Go now, dear," she said.
+
+So I left her sitting there, and went on, down the winding, shady path
+to the sea. It was a quiet, solitary place. The only sounds that were
+to be heard were the splashing of the waves upon the rocks, and the
+cries of the white sea-birds as they flew backwards and forwards on the
+little rocky islands which lay about half a mile from the shore.
+
+I knelt down in a sheltered corner, and felt myself alone with God. I
+do not think that I have ever realised the Lord's presence more than at
+that moment. And then I confessed it all to Him, all my coldness, all
+my carelessness, all my neglect of prayer, all my indifference to Him.
+I came back to Him, and asked Him to receive me, and to give me the
+light of His countenance again. And then, as Miss Irvine had advised
+me, I prayed very earnestly for the Holy Spirit, pleading that promise—
+
+   "If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your
+children: how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit
+to them that ask Him?"
+
+Oh, how thankful I felt that Miss Irvine had spoken to me that
+afternoon! I am sure that God put it into her heart to do so.
+
+When I went back to the house, I found her still sitting in the same
+place, and she said, as she took hold of my arm to walk home with me:
+
+"Is it all right, dear?"
+
+"Yes, Miss Irvine, I hope so. I have asked Him to forgive me, and I
+think He has."
+
+"Yes," she said, "if you have asked Him, I am sure He has. He is always
+ready to forgive us, if we will only go to Him. If we only realised how
+much He loves us, May, and how much it grieves Him when we are cold and
+heartless to Him, I think we should be more careful never to leave Him."
+
+As I look back upon that part of my life which was spent in Alliston
+Hall, I cannot be too thankful that God gave me the friendship of Miss
+Lilla Irvine. I found in her a true friend, one in whom I could confide
+all my troubles and anxieties, and one who was ever ready to sympathise
+with me and to advise me. Her visits, to my great joy, were very long
+ones. At the time of which I am now writing, she spent several months
+at her cousin's house, so that I had many opportunities of seeing her,
+and of learning to love her more and more.
+
+
+As Christmas time drew near, the good sisters at Branston Manor House
+wrote to ask me to spend Christmas with them, and Sir William most
+kindly gave me a fortnight's holiday.
+
+Evelyn was very loth to part with me, and told me she would be
+dreadfully dull whilst I was away. But Sir William would not hear of my
+refusing the invitation, and promised to do his best to make up for my
+absence.
+
+"Oh dear, oh dear, it will be a long fortnight!" Evelyn said, the night
+before I left. "You shouldn't be so nice, May; if you were only a
+little more disagreeable, just the smallest degree more like the brown
+alpaca, I should not miss you half so much!"
+
+"Very well," I said, laughing, "I will come back provided with
+spectacles, and a brown alpaca dress, and be as prim and precise as you
+please, and then I suppose I shall get plenty of holidays! Not that I
+want holidays," I said, in a different tone, as I noticed the troubled
+expression on her face, "I was only joking, dear Evelyn; my whole life
+here is a holiday—I am very, very happy, you are all so good to me."
+
+"Just as if we could help being good to you, May," she said; "I told
+you that I loved you at first sight, and always should love you, and
+I am sure I do. And I do hope you will enjoy being with your little
+sister, only you must be sure to come back as soon as they can spare
+you."
+
+
+It was six months since I had seen Maggie, and my heart beat very fast
+as the train drew up at Branston Station, and my little sister came
+forward to meet me. She had grown very much since I had seen her last,
+but she was the same dear, simple-minded child as when I had left her,
+and was just as loving and true.
+
+Old John was waiting for us with the two luxurious horses, and we drove
+to the Manor House at the usual measured pace.
+
+It was quite touching to see the welcome which the three kind sisters
+gave me. If I had been their own child, they could not have seemed more
+glad to see me. Miss Jane, especially, took me under her wing from the
+moment that I entered the house, and it would indeed have been my own
+fault if I had not spent a pleasant Christmas time at Branston Hall.
+
+But what I enjoyed, perhaps, more than anything else, was hearing Mr.
+Claremont's sermons. There was something in his plain, practical way of
+preaching, which went direct to my heart, and I always came away from
+hearing one of his sermons feeling thoroughly dissatisfied with myself,
+which perhaps, after all, is the best proof how very useful they were
+to me.
+
+On the last Sunday of the year, especially, I felt that indeed there
+was a message for me. In both his sermons that day Mr. Claremont spoke
+of the year that was past, gone for ever, with all its shortcomings
+and sins, all its neglected opportunities, all its wasted moments. In
+the evening his sermon was addressed more especially to the unsaved
+in the congregation, urging such not to let the last moments of the
+old year pass away until they had been to the fountain, Christ Jesus,
+the fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness, and had washed their
+sin-stained souls till they were whiter than snow.
+
+But in the morning Mr. Claremont spoke to Christians, to God's own
+children. He spoke of the sins of which we Christians had been guilty
+during the past year, and above all of our sins of omission. He told us
+that God had given to each of us a special work to do for Him, and that
+if we did not do it, the work would be left undone. And then he asked
+us whether all those who lived in the house with us were amongst the
+saved. Were there any, was there one, with whom we spoke day by day,
+and whom we loved perhaps very much, and yet whom we knew to be still
+outside the refuge, still unsaved?
+
+And then Mr. Claremont pleaded with us, if this was the case, to give
+ourselves no rest until that one was safe in Christ, but to speak to
+him about his soul, and, whenever we had an opportunity, to plead with
+him, and to urge him to come to Jesus before it was too late.
+
+"Another year gone, just gone, and your loved ones still unsaved. Oh,
+what if this new year should be their last! What if next New Year's
+Day, the opportunity should be over, and they should be gone! Children
+of God, up and be doing, let not their blood be on your heads. Oh,
+if they should come up to you at the last day, and say, with bitter
+reproaches, 'Why did you not warn us? If you really believed, knew that
+this was before us, why did you not give yourselves no rest, day nor
+night, until you knew that we were saved from it? Oh, why not?' What
+will you say to them then? Friends, be up and doing, for the night
+cometh when no man can work."
+
+As Mr. Claremont spoke, one face was ever in my mind's eye, one form
+was ever before me. It was Evelyn Trafford, my own dear little Evelyn,
+of whom I thought. I knew she was not safe. Loving and amiable and
+sweet tempered as she was, I know that she cared nothing for the Lord
+I loved. She had been brought up entirely for this world, and she had
+never been taught to think of things above.
+
+And yet what could I do for her? I had sometimes tried to get a word
+in, edgewise as it were, for my Master, but it was very difficult, and
+it never seemed to do any good.
+
+Sometimes I thought it did harm. If she was alone with me, she turned
+the subject so quickly, and called me precise and particular, and did
+not seem so much at her ease with me afterwards. And if any one else
+came into the room, she would begin to talk almost scoffingly of all
+that I loved and reverenced, as if she were determined to show me how
+little she cared for it all. And so I was beginning to think that it
+was wiser to be quiet and to say nothing.
+
+Yet this sermon had made me uneasy. If Evelyn, my dear Evelyn, should
+die unsaved, and I had never once really spoken to her about her soul's
+interests, oh, how I should blame myself! And yet, when could I do it?
+How could I begin the subject?
+
+I met Mr. Claremont the next day, as I was going to see one of Miss
+Jane's sick people, and I ventured to tell him how much I had felt his
+sermon.
+
+"But does it not require very great wisdom in speaking to others?" I
+asked.
+
+"Undoubtedly," he said; "there is a time to speak, and a time to keep
+silence."
+
+"But with me, Mr. Claremont," I said, "it always seems the time to keep
+silence."
+
+"Have you been looking out for an opportunity?" he said. "Ready to
+speak and longing to speak, whenever and as soon as God shall give you
+one?"
+
+"Hardly that," I said; "I have often thought I ought to speak, but have
+always persuaded myself that it was not the right time to do it."
+
+"Ah!" he said. "Perhaps if you look carefully within, Miss Lindsay,
+you will find that at the bottom of it all there has been a little
+cowardice, a little unwillingness to be brave for the Master's
+sake—please forgive me for saying so—but I have often found it so
+myself. Often, when I have neglected speaking to others about their
+souls, I have found that it was not from want of opportunity, but from
+want of courage to use the opportunities that were given me."
+
+"Yes," I said, "I believe you are right."
+
+"Pray for opportunities to be given you, be on the look-out for
+opportunities, and use the opportunities as soon as ever they occur,
+and you will, I am sure, Miss Lindsay, find that there is indeed a time
+to speak, as well as a time to be silent."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ALICE FITZGERALD.
+
+[Illustration] I WENT back to Alliston Hall determined to be on the
+watch for the time to speak, and longing most earnestly for that time
+to come.
+
+Evelyn welcomed me very warmly, and told me she had never known a
+fortnight pass so slowly.
+
+"Have you many visitors here?" I asked.
+
+"No," she said, "there is only Alice Fitzgerald; I did not know she was
+coming when you went away, but I found out she was staying with friends
+of hers not far-off, so I asked her to come here on her way home: her
+father is an old friend of papa's."
+
+"Alice Fitzgerald!" I repeated. "Alice Fitzgerald, I wonder if it is
+the same!"
+
+"The same as what, May?" she said, laughing at my astonishment. "Do you
+know an Alice Fitzgerald?"
+
+"No," I said, "I do not know her; but she is a great friend of a friend
+of mine."
+
+"Well, this Alice Fitzgerald—how pale you are, May," said Evelyn,
+suddenly stopping short in her explanation; "are you very tired?"
+
+"No, not at all," I said; "go on, I want to hear about your Alice
+Fitzgerald."
+
+"Well, my Alice Fitzgerald is a very pretty girl, at least I think she
+is, and a nice sort of girl, though she isn't a bit like you. I don't
+mean that you are not nice, you dear old thing," said Evelyn, laughing,
+"but she is quite different from you; I'm rather afraid you will
+quarrel."
+
+"Oh no, I hope not!"
+
+"No, you must not quarrel," said Evelyn, "though she has some very
+strange ideas; but, after all, what does it matter what one believes?"
+
+I was about to answer her when the door opened, and the subject of our
+conversation entered. She was a tall, fair-haired girl of about my own
+age, and was indeed, as Evelyn had said, very pretty.
+
+"Alice, this is my friend, May Lindsay," was Evelyn's introduction, as
+she came in.
+
+Miss Fitzgerald shook hands with me pleasantly, and then sat down on a
+low seat by the fire, and took her work out of a pretty, embroidered
+pocket which hung by her side.
+
+"I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Lindsay," she said,
+laughing, "for I have been hearing your praises sounded morning, noon,
+and night, ever since I came."
+
+"Well, isn't she very nice, Alice?" said Evelyn, raising herself on the
+sofa. "Didn't I give you a good description of her?"
+
+"I expect Miss Fitzgerald is not so hasty in forming her opinion as you
+are, Evelyn," I said.
+
+"By the by, Alice," Evelyn went on, "May thinks she knows a friend of
+yours; at least, if you are the same Alice Fitzgerald. What is her
+name, May?"
+
+"It is a gentleman," I said, turning very red, in spite of all my
+efforts to the contrary—"Mr. Claude Ellis."
+
+"Claude!" repeated Miss Fitzgerald, in astonishment. "Do you know
+Claude? I never heard him speak of you."
+
+"No, perhaps not," I said; "but I do know him very well indeed; we were
+playfellows when we were children, and have lived next door to each
+other all our lives."
+
+"How very strange that I never heard your name!" said Miss Fitzgerald.
+"And I was staying at the Parsonage last spring; would you be at Acton
+then?"
+
+"No," I said, "we had left a little time before you went there. Do you
+remember noticing a house, standing in a large garden, close to the
+Parsonage?"
+
+"Oh yes," said Miss Fitzgerald; "it was shut up when I was there, and
+Claude said the doctor used to live there."
+
+"Yes, the doctor was my father," I said, checking the tears, which
+would come in spite of myself, and which nearly choked me.
+
+"Well, that's very funny!" said Evelyn. "That you should know this
+dearly beloved Claude, about whom I have heard so much lately! Do you
+know he is coming here to-morrow, to make my acquaintance? Papa has
+invited him to come for a day or two whilst Alice is here."
+
+Claude coming to Alliston Hall Claude coming to-morrow! How I wished
+that my stay at the old Manor House had been a little longer. I made
+some excuse to leave the room soon afterwards, and went to my own
+bedroom, and locked the door.
+
+"Claude coming to-morrow!" I repeated over and over to myself.
+
+All the old trouble seemed to have come back again. I had hoped that I
+should never see him again, that our paths in life would never cross
+each other. And now Claude was coming to-morrow. How astonished he
+would be to see me here! I wondered how we should meet, and whether he
+would feel it as much as I did.
+
+As I sat alone in my room I prayed for grace and help, and I felt
+that the strength came as I prayed. Still I felt that I could not go
+downstairs, until Evelyn's maid came to tell me that Miss Trafford
+wanted me.
+
+"You naughty girl!" said Evelyn when I entered. "What have you been
+doing? Why, you are as cold as ice; come to the fire and warm your
+hands. I really could not let you stop up there any longer. Do you know
+I thought you were, at last, turning into the brown alpaca! She always
+shut herself up in her bedroom half the day."
+
+"And, who in the world is the brown alpaca?" said Alice Fitzgerald. "Do
+tell me about her, Evelyn."
+
+Evelyn was only too pleased to do so. And then we went on from one
+laughable subject to another, and Alice Fitzgerald told us a number of
+amusing stories, in such an absurd way that we laughed until we were
+quite tired.
+
+"There," she said, at last, as Evelyn declared that she had not laughed
+so much the whole time she had been ill, and that she felt all the
+better for it, "that's just what I was saying before Miss Lindsay came
+into the room; if only people, when they are in low spirits would laugh
+more, they would be all the happier."
+
+"But when you are in trouble you can't laugh, Miss Fitzgerald," I said.
+
+"Oh, then, you should try," she said; "try to forget the trouble, and
+laugh it off. That's always my way when anything bothers me or vexes
+me. I try to think of something amusing, and forget it."
+
+"And do you always succeed?" I ventured to ask.
+
+"Well, no, not quite always," she said, rather gravely.
+
+It was the first time that I had seen her look grave; her merry,
+laughing face was clouded for a moment. But it was only for a moment.
+
+"Anyhow," she said, "if you don't quite succeed in forgetting your
+trouble, it does not make it so hard to bear; it is better to go
+laughing through a trouble than crying through it. But laugh it off if
+you can, that's much the best way."
+
+"But, suppose you can't laugh it off," I said; "you owned that there
+were some troubles which were too deep to be got rid of in this
+way—suppose you can't laugh it off, and the trouble comes back after
+every laugh as heavy as ever—what then?"
+
+"Oh, then," she said, with a shrug of her shoulders, "we must bear it,
+I suppose—bear it as best we can. Don't you think so?"
+
+"I never try to laugh trouble away," I said; "I try to pray it away."
+
+"Oh," she said, scornfully, "you believe in prayer, do you?"
+
+"Yes; don't you, Miss Fitzgerald?"
+
+"No, not now," she said; "I did once. That is to say, I never prayed
+much myself, but I used to believe that it did some people good; but
+Claude says that is all nonsense. My brother Arthur and he are always
+having long discussions about these things. Arthur believes in the
+Bible with all his heart and soul, and Claude does nothing but laugh at
+him."
+
+"And you agree with Claude, of course," said Evelyn, laughing.
+
+"Yes," said Alice, "I agree with him; and yet, do you know, I sometimes
+wish I didn't."
+
+"May I ask, why not?" I said.
+
+"Well," she said, "you mustn't tell Claude, he would be so angry; but I
+can't help thinking if Arthur should be right after all—what then?"
+
+"Yes, what then?" I said. "If the Bible is true—what then?"
+
+"Why then," she said, laughing again, "we are all lost, I suppose; so
+the best we can do is to enjoy ourselves as much now as we can. A short
+life and a merry one, that's my motto! Well, I suppose it is getting
+near dinner time," she said, as she hastily rose, gathering up her
+work, and left the room.
+
+"She is a queer girl," said Evelyn, as soon as the door was shut.
+
+"She is not really happy, Evelyn," I said. "She tries to laugh it off,
+as she says; but there is a great deal of miserable uncertainty in her
+heart, I feel sure of that."
+
+"Well," said Evelyn, turning the subject, "won't you dress for dinner?
+Ambrose will be here in a moment."
+
+So I left the room and went upstairs, and prayed very, very earnestly
+for them both, and especially for Alice Fitzgerald. Oh, if she only
+knew where true joy was to be found!
+
+
+The next day Claude arrived. I was in Evelyn's sitting-room when Alice
+Fitzgerald brought him in to introduce him to her. And then she turned
+to me.
+
+"An old friend of yours, Claude, I believe," she said.
+
+Claude started; he had not noticed me before. "May—Miss Lindsay," he
+said, colouring painfully, "I did not expect to see you here."
+
+And then he turned the subject quickly, and began to give us an account
+of his journey, his Oxford adventures, and all sorts of other things,
+till dinner was announced.
+
+I could see that he was not at his ease, and I was almost afraid that
+Alice Fitzgerald noticed it also.
+
+I saw very little more of Claude that evening, for I always dined
+upstairs with Evelyn, and he spent the evening in talking politics with
+Sir William over the library fire.
+
+
+But the next morning when I came downstairs, Claude was alone in the
+breakfast-room. I shook hands with him, and said "Good morning;" and
+then was about to leave the room again, when he called me back, and
+said hurriedly:
+
+"May, what did you tell them?"
+
+"Tell whom?" I asked.
+
+"Tell her," he said, in a hoarse whisper. "What did you tell her about
+me?"
+
+"Only that we played together when we were children, and lived next
+door to each other."
+
+"Was that all?" he said.
+
+"Yes, every word," I answered. "You surely did not think, Claude—"
+
+"Oh no," he said, "of course not, only it's more comfortable to know.
+All right, May," he added, carelessly, "we will let bygones be bygones
+now."
+
+And then he sat down to the piano and played a merry air.
+
+I stood and looked out of the window, and wondered at the shallowness
+of his heart. And I felt, as I had never felt before, that I had not
+made a bad choice when I chose Christ's love and gave up Claude's.
+
+In a few minutes the others came down, and we had breakfast; and whilst
+we were at breakfast, Ambrose came in with the letter-bag, which
+he solemnly laid before Sir William, as was his daily custom. Sir
+William took a key from his watch-chain and unlocked the bag, and then
+proceeded to distribute the letters.
+
+"None for you this morning, Miss Alice," he said, laughing. "Which
+would you choose: to have your young man here to talk to you, or to get
+a letter from him? None for you, Miss Lindsay, not a single one; six
+for me, and one for Mr. Ellis—that's all!"
+
+Claude took his letter, opened it, and glanced hastily through it. The
+contents did not seem to be of the most agreeable nature, for he looked
+very annoyed as he read it, and then crushed it up impatiently, and
+thrust it into his pocket.
+
+Alice glanced inquiringly at him, but Claude appeared to be engrossed
+in the carving of a chicken, and took no notice of her inquiring looks.
+
+When breakfast was over, Sir William went into the library, where he
+generally spent the morning looking over the newspapers and writing his
+letters.
+
+We went up to Evelyn's room. I thought Alice wanted to linger behind,
+that she might speak to Claude; but he did not seem disposed to take
+the hint, and followed me closely upstairs.
+
+We found Evelyn lying on the sofa, and waiting for me to show her how
+to do a new pattern in crochet work, which I had learnt from Aunt Jane,
+who was very clever with her fingers. I sat down on a low stool close
+to Evelyn, directing her as she worked; and Alice and Claude went to
+the other end of the room, into the large bow window.
+
+Claude had brought a newspaper upstairs with him, and, throwing himself
+into an arm-chair, he began to read it, with an air which plainly
+intimated that he did not wish to be disturbed.
+
+Alice Fitzgerald came behind him, and leaning over his shoulder,
+with her arm on the back of the chair, she seemed to be reading the
+newspaper with him. But after a minute or two I heard her say:
+
+"Let me see that letter, Claude; what was it about?"
+
+"Oh, it was nothing particular," said Claude, turning to another part
+of the newspaper; "it was only a business letter."
+
+"That's always the way with men," said Evelyn, laughing; "whenever they
+don't want you to see a letter they always say, 'It's only a business
+letter.' Papa always does so, and it's of no use my telling him that I
+like business letters; he only laughs and says, 'Women don't understand
+business, or, if they do, they ought not.'"
+
+But Alice Fitzgerald did not let the matter drop. In a few minutes I
+heard her ask again from whom the letter had come, and Claude answered
+in a vexed tone:
+
+"It is only from my father, Alice. There, take it and read it if you
+make such a fuss about it!" And he tossed the letter out of his pocket.
+
+Alice sat down and read it, and when she had gone through it once, she
+turned it over and read it again, and then, folding it up very gravely
+and slowly, she handed it back to Claude. He put it into his pocket,
+and went on reading.
+
+Alice leant over his shoulder, and her face, which was generally so
+bright and merry, was very grave and thoughtful.
+
+Evelyn and I were busy with our pattern, and for some minutes no one
+spoke.
+
+Then I heard Alice say, in a low voice, "What enclosures were there,
+Claude? What is it that has vexed your father so much?"
+
+[Illustration: CLAUDE BURNS THE LETTERS.]
+
+"Oh, only some rubbishy old bills," said Claude, impatiently; "those
+Oxford tradesmen are the greatest scoundrels on the face of the earth!
+It's always their way! But the best plan is to take no notice of them;
+shy their bills into the fire, and leave them alone."
+
+And, in spite of Alice's remonstrances, he walked to the fireplace,
+and thrust a roll of letters, which he took from his pocket, into the
+flames, and watched them turn to ashes.
+
+"They will send them in again, Claude," said Alice, gravely.
+
+"Then I shall burn them again," he said, with a laugh; "the rascals
+ought to know better!"
+
+"But are you quite sure they are wrong, Claude?" she said, as they went
+back to the window. "Are you quite sure you never bought any of the
+things? Have you looked them carefully through?"
+
+"Oh, I know all about it," said Claude, in a vexed voice; "do let it
+alone, dear. I have plenty of money to pay them all, if necessary; so
+please leave me to manage my own affairs. There's a splendid leader in
+the 'Times' to-day, Miss Trafford; have you read it?" he said, turning
+to Evelyn, and beginning a conversation with her on the politics of
+Europe.
+
+Alice Fitzgerald left the window, took her work out of her pocket, and
+sat on a low stool by the fire; but she did not recover her usual good
+spirits for some time afterwards.
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+WAS THE PROMISE BINDING?
+
+[Illustration] FROM this time, as the spring advanced, Evelyn began to
+grow much stronger, and the doctors seemed very hopeful that she would
+soon be able entirely to leave off her invalid habits. She was strong
+enough to go upstairs and downstairs quite comfortably; and although
+she still spent a good deal of time on her couch, it was more because
+Sir William insisted upon it than because she felt it really necessary.
+
+I began to think that my stay at Alliston Hall was drawing to a close,
+for when Evelyn was able to return to the gay and active life that she
+had led before her illness, she would not need me any longer; but when
+I once hinted at something of the kind to her, she vehemently declared
+that I should never leave her, and that she should be ill again
+directly, if I were to go away.
+
+If I had had a pleasant life before, it was still more pleasant now;
+for we were able to drive out together, or to sit with our work on a
+seat on the lawn whenever the weather was warm enough.
+
+I shall never forget that spring. Everything looked so lovely in that
+beautiful park. The long avenue with its budding trees; the soft, fresh
+green of the grass; the woods yellow with primroses, and the birds
+singing their happy songs in the trees; everything seemed full of life
+and of joy.
+
+Evelyn was like a bird which has been long shut up in a cage and has
+suddenly regained its liberty. Her merry laugh was to be heard almost
+all day long, and her light step, as she went about the house again,
+showed that she was fast recovering her health and strength.
+
+Yet one thought troubled me. Could it be that the opportunity was
+gone—that I should never now be able to lead her to think seriously
+about her soul and about eternity? I had tried so very often since my
+visit to Branston to begin to talk to her about these things, but the
+attempt had always ended in failure; and though I prayed most earnestly
+that God would make a way for me, and give me the opportunity for
+which I was now eagerly watching, yet no way seemed to be opened, no
+opportunity seemed to be given. And now Evelyn was getting well, and
+what chance was there that she would be led to think seriously when all
+around her was so bright and pleasant? Still I prayed on.
+
+I had found out a few poor people in the neighbourhood of Alliston
+Hall, amongst whom I was able to do a little work for the Master.
+There were one or two old people who were glad for me to read to them;
+and there was a girl, dying in consumption, who was always pleased to
+see me. Thus, whenever I managed to get an afternoon for myself, when
+Evelyn was engaged with visitors, or was driving out with her father, I
+went across the park to visit these poor people, and always came back
+feeling refreshed in mind and body.
+
+One afternoon I had been out rather longer than usual. I had left
+Evelyn busy with her letters, and, as it was now past post-time, I was
+afraid she would be wanting me, and would think that I had been a long
+time away. So, as soon as I had dressed for dinner, I hurried down to
+Evelyn's room.
+
+As I came up to the door I heard a voice inside, and when I went in, I
+found to my astonishment, that a young man was there. He was sitting
+on a footstool in front of the fire, stroking Evelyn's little dog, and
+was apparently quite at his ease. He was a very handsome man, tall and
+well-built, with fine features and large dark eyes.
+
+Who could he be? Where had he come from? I had not heard that any
+visitors were expected that day, and I was utterly at a loss to account
+for his sudden appearance.
+
+He jumped up when I came into the room, and threw himself into the
+arm-chair by the fire.
+
+"This is Cousin Donald, May," said Evelyn as I came up to her; "do you
+think papa will be very angry with him for coming?"
+
+"Oh no, of course not; why should he be?" said Mr. Trafford carelessly.
+"When a poor fellow has been toiling away day after day for months, it
+would be a crying shame to grudge him a little change of air when he
+happens to get a day's holiday."
+
+"Don't you like the bank any better, Donald?" asked Evelyn.
+
+"Any better!" exclaimed Mr. Trafford, starting from his seat. "I hate
+it, Evelyn. I shall run away some day, I declare I shall."
+
+"Oh no, you won't, there's a dear, good Donald," she said; "papa would
+be so angry."
+
+"I can't help that, Evelyn," he said; "you would run away if you were
+in my place; it is nothing but work, work, work, day after day, and I
+hate work. I can't help it, it is my nature. I was never meant to work;
+some people are, and they like work; but I never did and never shall."
+
+At this moment Sir William's step was heard in the corridor.
+
+"Here's papa," said Evelyn, hurriedly; "oh, Donald, I wonder what he
+will say."
+
+"I don't care," said Mr. Trafford, with a laugh; "if the old gentleman
+has the least sense of—"
+
+But here the door opened, and Sir William came in.
+
+His nephew rose to meet him in the most affectionate and confident
+manner, and as if he were perfectly sure of a welcome.
+
+"Well, uncle, how are you?" he said. "I'm so glad to find Evelyn
+better; it is so nice to see you again, uncle."
+
+Sir William took his hand and shook it coldly. "And pray where did you
+come from, Donald?" he said, sternly.
+
+"Why, the fact is, uncle," said the young man, "to-day is a bank
+holiday, and I have been working so hard lately that I thought a little
+fresh air would set me up again, and as I had not seen you for such a
+long time, I thought I would look you up."
+
+"When I was a young man, Donald," said his uncle, dryly, "I waited for
+an invitation before I went to visit my friends."
+
+Mr. Trafford coloured, but he answered gaily: "I can put up at the
+'Royal Oak,' to-night, uncle, if it is at all inconvenient for me to
+stay here; I did not think the house would be full at this time of the
+year."
+
+Sir William did not answer him, but turning to Evelyn, told her that
+the gong had sounded, and asked her if she wished to go downstairs to
+dinner.
+
+"No, papa," said Evelyn; "I think May and I will dine upstairs. I feel
+rather tired this evening."
+
+"Very well, then, we will go downstairs, Donald," said Sir William; and
+they left the room.
+
+"Oh dear, May," said Evelyn, as soon as the door was shut, "I am afraid
+papa is very angry; I never saw him look so vexed before. But I don't
+know why he should be so angry, do you? It isn't as if Donald was no
+relation of ours, and I am sure he is very nice. I can't think why papa
+is always so vexed when he comes here."
+
+"I am very sorry you are so tired, Evelyn dear," I said, as I made her
+lie down on the sofa till dinner was brought upstairs.
+
+"Oh, I'm not so very tired, May," she said, "but I wanted papa and
+Donald to have dinner alone, because, don't you see, papa will be
+obliged to talk to him now. If we were there, I know just how it would
+be. Papa would talk to you and talk to me, and hardly say a word to
+Donald. But now, you see, he must talk to him, because there is no one
+else there, and you will see they will be quite friendly after dinner;
+at least, matters will be much better than they are now."
+
+And, to a certain extent, Evelyn was right. When we went into the
+library we found Mr. Trafford sitting comfortably in an easy chair,
+with the "Times" newspaper in his hand, discussing the events of the
+day with his uncle, apparently quite at his ease, and looking as
+comfortable as if his presence in Alliston Hall was the result of an
+urgent and pressing invitation.
+
+And Sir William? He was not at his ease. I could see that by his
+tightly compressed mouth when his nephew was speaking, and by the
+careful way in which he tried to engross Evelyn's attention as soon as
+she came into the room. But still I could see that he found it very
+difficult to keep up any appearance of displeasure in the face of Mr.
+Trafford's pleasant, cheerful manner, and almost impossible to quarrel
+with a man who was quite determined not to quarrel with him.
+
+Evelyn was very silent the whole evening, and seemed in bad spirits.
+She talked a little to me, but she very seldom spoke to her father or
+her cousin. Altogether it was a most uncomfortable evening, and I was
+not sorry when it was over.
+
+
+The next day we did not see much of Mr. Trafford, for Sir William took
+him out with him after breakfast, and managed to keep him to himself
+nearly the whole day. Only once, when Sir William was unavoidably
+absent for a short time, was he left in the library with Evelyn and me.
+
+"I wish you liked the bank better, Donald," said Evelyn, as soon as her
+father had left the room.
+
+"I never shall like it better, Evelyn," he said, impetuously; "it is
+absurd my trying to live in London on the miserable allowance I get
+there. It is utterly ridiculous; no gentleman could do it."
+
+"But, Donald," Evelyn said, "you really should be more careful of your
+money; you ought never to have bought—"
+
+At a sign from him, she stopped suddenly short in what she was saying.
+
+"You really ought not; ought you, Donald?" she said, instead.
+
+"Yes I ought, Evelyn," he said, in rather an annoyed voice; "it's all
+right. But it is really absurd their paying a fellow such a miserable
+salary. I don't mean to stand it much longer. I shall run away, and try
+my fortune somewhere else."
+
+"Oh no, Donald dear, you must not run away," said Evelyn, beseechingly;
+"just think how angry papa would be!"
+
+But just then Sir William came back, and invited Mr. Trafford to walk
+with him as far as his farm-bailiff's house, and we did not see him
+again until he came to take leave of us before starting for the railway
+station. He whispered something to Evelyn as he bent over her to say
+good-bye, and I distinctly caught the words, "Remember—promise;" and
+then he hastily shook hands with me and went out of the room.
+
+I never knew Evelyn so difficult to please as she was that evening.
+Nothing that I did seemed to be right, and she was fretful and tired;
+and even when her father was in the room, she made no effort to rouse
+herself or to talk to him.
+
+Sir William looked at her very anxiously from time to time. I could
+see that he attributed this change in her to her cousin's visit, and I
+heard him once expressing a hope that that was the very last time that
+Master Donald would come without an invitation; he did not approve of
+the free-and-easy manners of the rising generation, and he was glad
+that he had spoken to him pretty plainly on the subject.
+
+Evelyn went early to bed, and I went to my room, but not to sleep. I
+felt very unhappy and perplexed. These two words which I had heard,
+against my will, haunted me: "'Remember—promise.'"
+
+What did he mean by it? What was Evelyn to remember, and what promise
+had she made which she would not either speak to her father or to me?
+It was so unlike Evelyn to keep a secret. She generally came out with
+everything at once, and told me just what she was thinking about. I
+felt sure that this must be something she did not wish her father to
+know, and the thought troubled me very much indeed.
+
+
+As I got up the next morning, I prayed for grace and strength to help
+me, if possible, to influence Evelyn to do what was right.
+
+I found her in a very different frame of mind from what she had been
+the night before. She was still silent, and looked unhappy, but she was
+very loving and affectionate to me.
+
+"May, darling," she said, as she put her arms round my neck, and kissed
+me, "are you very angry with me?"
+
+"Angry with you? No indeed, Evelyn," I said; "why should I be angry?"
+
+"Oh, I was so horrid to you last night, I know I was; I can't bear to
+think how nasty and disagreeable I was. How you must have hated me!"
+
+"No, Evelyn dear," I said; "you were only tired and—"
+
+"And what?" she said.
+
+"And troubled, were you not, dear?" I ventured to say. "Troubled about
+something of which I did not know, and so could not sympathise with
+you."
+
+"Yes," she said, "I was very bothered and troubled, and I wanted to
+tell you about it so much; but I did not know whether I ought to do so."
+
+I did not answer her, but went on quietly with my work.
+
+After a minute or two she said in a whisper: "May, I'm not going to
+tell you anything, but I'm going to show you something. That won't
+be telling, will it? Hush! Is that any one coming? No, it is no one
+coming; it is only Clemence going downstairs; but, mind, if the door
+opens, you must look just the same as usual, and not say a word. Mind!"
+
+She drew from her pocket a little leathern case and opened it. Inside
+was a beautiful diamond ring.
+
+"Isn't it pretty?" she asked, as she showed it to me.
+
+"Very pretty," I said, "very beautiful. Did Sir William give it to you?"
+
+"Oh no," she said; "papa does not know anything about it, and I must
+not tell him. You can guess who gave it to me; I am not going to tell
+you, but you can guess. And then, don't you see, if you know about it,
+then I can wear it sometimes; it seems such a pity never to wear it.
+I can put it on now and then, when we are here alone, and slip it off
+if I hear any one coming. Don't you think so, May dear? How grave you
+look!" she said, in an altered voice. "What is the matter? Are you very
+angry with me?"
+
+"Not angry," I said, "not angry, Evelyn; but I feel troubled about what
+you have told me. Why don't you tell your father about it, dear?"
+
+"Oh, I could not," she said; "he would be so vexed, so very vexed. I
+dare not tell him."
+
+"Why do you think he would be vexed?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, because it must have cost such a great deal of money. Look, May,
+they are real diamonds; and Donald has so little money to spend, and
+papa thinks he is so very extravagant. There! I've told you who gave it
+to me; I did not mean to do so, but of course you had guessed before."
+
+"I think it would be much better if you told Sir William," I said;
+"he might be a little vexed at first with your cousin for giving so
+much money for it, but I am sure he would be far more vexed if, by any
+means, he found out that Mr. Trafford had given it to you, and yet you
+had never told him of it."
+
+"Yes," she said, "I know he would; but the worst of it is, that isn't
+all, May; if I told him that, I should have to tell him something
+else—I could not stop half-way."
+
+"But I think you ought to tell him all," I said, "and to hide nothing
+from him which you feel he ought to know. You would be much happier,
+Evelyn, if you told him."
+
+"Yes," she said, "I know I should; but then you see I promised not to
+tell him, and it would never do to break my promise."
+
+"But if you promised to do what was wrong," I said, "it can surely not
+be right to keep your promise."
+
+"Do you think so, May?" she said. "I thought it was a dreadful thing to
+break a promise."
+
+"Yes, so it is," I answered, "if there is nothing wrong in what we have
+promised; but if conscience tells us afterwards that we ought never to
+have made the promise, and that we cannot keep it without doing what is
+wrong, then I feel sure that we ought to break it."
+
+"Do you think so?" she said again.
+
+"I am sure of it," I answered. "It is wrong to promise to do what is
+wrong, but to keep the promise is doubly wrong."
+
+"I don't see that at all," she said; "I think if you promise to do
+anything, you ought to keep your promise, whether the thing is right or
+wrong."
+
+"Suppose I should promise some enemy of yours that I would poison you,
+Evelyn," I said; "that would be wrong, would it not."
+
+"Yes, very wrong," she said, laughing, though she had tears in her
+eyes; "what a dreadful illustration to use!"
+
+"Never mind, it will show you what I mean. It would be very wrong of me
+to promise to do such a wicked thing, but it would be still worse if I
+kept my promise, and really did poison you; now, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Yes," she said, "I see; of course it would!"
+
+"Well," I answered, "I think that rule applies to all promises. It
+is wrong to promise to do what is not right, but it is doubly wrong
+to keep our promise, and to do it; because, you see, that is only
+adding sin to sin. The making the promise is one wrong action, and the
+fulfilling the promise is only adding to it another and a still worse
+action."
+
+"I never thought of that before," she said; "I have been wishing
+ever since that I had not promised not to tell papa. You see, May, I
+promised Donald that afternoon, before you came in, that some day or
+other I would be his little wife. I know I ought not to have promised
+him, but he was so nice and seemed to love me so much. He said he had
+brought that ring with him that I might always keep it near me, and
+that whenever I looked at it I might think of my promise. And then he
+said that I must not tell papa, because he would be so very angry if
+he knew. I told Donald that I should be obliged to tell papa, for how
+could we ever be married if papa did not know about it?"
+
+"And what did Mr. Trafford say?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, he said there was plenty of time for that—we could not be married
+for many a long day, and he would tell papa himself some day. So then
+he made me promise not to tell him till he gave me leave; and just then
+you came into the room, and we could not talk any more about it. I do
+wish I had never promised him."
+
+"Yes, it was a great pity," I said; "but now I think the best thing you
+can do is to write to Mr. Trafford, and tell him you feel you were very
+wrong to make the promise, and that you feel it would be still worse to
+keep it."
+
+"Do you think that would be a good plan?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," I said, "I am sure it is what you ought to do, Evelyn."
+
+She did not answer me at once, but sat looking into the fire and
+thinking.
+
+I sent up an earnest prayer that she might be led to do what was right.
+
+Presently she looked up at me, and said: "I can't do it, May, it is
+no use thinking of it; I can't tell papa. Donald would be so angry; I
+don't think he would ever forgive me."
+
+"Evelyn," I said, "you remember Herod's promise to give the daughter
+of Herodias whatever she asked for; and you remember why he kept that
+promise, even when the keeping of it made him commit murder."
+
+"Yes," she said; "doesn't it say it was because of his oath's sake; I
+suppose Herod did not like to break his word."
+
+"And Evelyn," I said, "there is another reason given; do you remember
+what comes next?"
+
+"No; what is it?" she asked.
+
+"And because of 'them which sat with him at meat.' I think that was
+the real reason why Herod kept his word. It was not because he minded
+breaking his promise—he was not the kind of man to mind that—but it
+was because he was afraid of what his friends might say or think; he
+may have thought, too, that his wife would never forgive him, and so
+he kept his promise, and cut off John Baptist's head—he was not brave
+enough to do what he knew was right."
+
+Evelyn covered her face with her hands and cried.
+
+I sat beside her and put my arm round her, and we sat thus for some
+time in silence.
+
+Then she suddenly jumped up, went to the table, opened her portfolio,
+and began to write.
+
+"I am going to be very brave, May," she said, as she smiled through her
+tears.
+
+What Evelyn said to her cousin I do not know, but she cried a great
+deal whilst she was writing it. Then she slipped the letter into her
+pocket.
+
+"It won't do to put it into the post-bag," she said; "we will got out
+at the post office, and post it when we drive out this afternoon, and
+then I will tell papa this evening, after dinner."
+
+Oh, how thankful I was to hear her express this determination! I felt
+as if a great load had been lifted off my heart.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+EVELYN'S CONFESSION.
+
+[Illustration] EVELYN was very pale, and trembled very much, as dinner
+time drew near. She went downstairs as usual, and tried to talk to
+her father, and to appear as if nothing was the matter; but I could
+see that it was a very great effort for her to do so, and that she
+was dreading the time when her secret must be told. She had posted
+the letter to her cousin that afternoon, so it was too late to draw
+back; and I do not think that she wished to do so, but she dreaded her
+father's displeasure, and longed to feel that the trying disclosure was
+made.
+
+When dinner was over we went into the library, and Sir William made
+Evelyn lie down on her couch, for he had noticed that she was pale and
+tired, and I, according to previous arrangement with Evelyn, made some
+excuse for leaving the room, and left her alone with her father.
+
+I went upstairs into Evelyn's room, and sat waiting for the result,
+and praying that she might have courage to tell Sir William all, and
+that he might not be very angry. It seemed a long time before any one
+came. I took up a book and tried to read, but, though my eyes followed
+the words, I could not fix my thoughts upon what I was reading. Then
+I tried to sew, but that attempt was also a failure. So I went to the
+window, and sat looking out at the setting sun till the room grew
+dark. Then Clemence, Evelyn's maid, came into the room for something,
+and, seeing that I was in darkness, she lighted the gas, and drew the
+curtains, and then once more I was left alone.
+
+
+At last I heard a step on the stairs. It was Sir William, and he was
+coming up alone. He came into the room, and shut the door behind him,
+and, coming up to me, he said kindly:
+
+"Miss Lindsay, I have to thank you for the kind way in which you have
+influenced Evelyn to-day. She tells me that it is entirely owing to
+you, that she has been led to confess to me her foolish conduct."
+
+"I am quite sure, Sir William," I said, "that Evelyn is very thankful
+that she has told you. She loves you so much, that it was misery for
+her to feel she was deceiving you."
+
+"Yes, poor child!" he said. "She has suffered a great deal these last
+two days. I do not blame her; of course she acted very wrongly, but the
+chief fault does not lie at her door."
+
+I did not answer, and he went on:
+
+"That nephew of mine wants putting in his proper place. I hope this
+will be a lesson that he will not forget! I shall not spare him, I can
+tell you. I ant afraid he is a designing fellow! Evelyn does not see
+through him, of course, but I do; and I shall let him know it too. But
+I need not trouble you with this, Miss Lindsay," he said, as he rose to
+leave the room. "I just wanted to thank you very much indeed for being
+a true, wise friend to my dear child, and to tell you how I value the
+influence you have over her."
+
+This was a great deal for Sir William to say. He had never before given
+even the slightest hint that he was pleased with anything I did. He was
+a very silent man, and seldom expressed his feelings, and, therefore,
+a few words of praise from him were worth double what they would have
+been had they come from any one else, and I felt very thankful that God
+had enabled me to please him in this matter.
+
+"Evelyn is coming upstairs now, Miss Lindsay," said Sir William, as he
+left the room; "will you be so kind as to see that she goes to bed at
+once?"
+
+I promised to do so, and presently he brought her upstairs.
+
+She looked very tired and troubled, and her eyes were swollen with
+crying, but she put her arms round my neck and kissed me, and was very
+loving and affectionate to me. When her father had gone downstairs she
+said:
+
+"Oh, May! I am so glad I told papa, so very glad; I am so much happier
+now."
+
+"I was sure you would be, Evelyn dear," I said; "it is terrible to have
+a secret like that weighing on the mind."
+
+"Yes," she said, "I am very glad I told him; but oh, May, he was so
+angry—not with me, not half enough with me; he would not see that it
+was my fault, but he was terribly angry with Donald."
+
+"I do not think you can be surprised at that, Evelyn dear," I said; "I
+do not think Mr. Trafford behaved honourably, and Sir William is such
+an honourable man himself that he felt it very keenly."
+
+"Yes, perhaps so," she said; "but I don't think Donald meant any harm.
+Poor Donald does not think before he does things; he—"
+
+But I would not let Evelyn talk any more about it that night, but rang
+the bell for Clemence, and went with her to her bedroom.
+
+She kissed me at the door, and as she said "good-night," she whispered:
+
+"Papa has taken that ring, May; he says it must have cost at least £50,
+and he is sure Donald has no money to pay for it."
+
+
+The next morning no one alluded to what had happened the night before;
+even when we were alone Evelyn did not seem inclined to speak of it,
+and I made every effort that I could to turn her thoughts into another
+channel.
+
+Sir William spent most of that day in his private room writing letters,
+and we seldom saw him, but he was very tender and loving to Evelyn
+whenever he came into the room, and seemed anxious to make her feel how
+entirely he had forgiven her.
+
+Evelyn and I were sitting together at the window with our work, when
+the man started for the village with the post-bag. Evelyn watched it
+out of sight, and then turned to me with a sorrowful face:
+
+"Poor Donald!" she said. "What will he say when he gets it?"
+
+It was the first time that she had mentioned her cousin that day.
+
+I begged her to try not to think of what he would say, but to feel
+very thankful that she had done what was right, and could now look her
+father in the face with a happy heart.
+
+
+It must have been, I think, two days after this that, as Evelyn was
+lying on the sofa reading, and I was sitting beside her writing a
+letter, we heard a carriage coming quickly up the avenue.
+
+"A carriage!" said Evelyn. "I wonder who is coming! Just look-out, May."
+
+I went to the window, but I did not know the carriage at all, and as
+it came nearer I saw that it was a hired one, and that there was one
+gentleman inside.
+
+"Can you see who it is?" Evelyn asked.
+
+"I can see him, Evelyn," I said, "but I do not know who it is; it is no
+one that I have ever seen before. I think he wants Sir William; he and
+Ambrose have come out upon the drive together, and Ambrose is pointing
+in various directions. There! He has sent the carriage away; he is
+evidently going to stay!"
+
+"This is quite exciting!" said Evelyn, laughing. "I must come and look."
+
+She put down her book, got up from the sofa, and came to the window.
+
+Ambrose was still talking to the strange gentleman in the middle of the
+drive, and pointing to the various parts of the park, as if he were
+trying to tell him where Sir William had gone.
+
+"Oh, May," she said, "it is Uncle Edward; what can he want?"
+
+"Uncle Edward?" I repeated.
+
+"Yes," she said, "Donald's father. Oh, I wonder why he has come! I am
+sure it is about Donald. What can be the matter?"
+
+She sat down looking quite faint and ill.
+
+"Don't be troubled about it, Evelyn dear," I said, "very likely your
+uncle has only come in answer to Sir William's letter. Sir William
+would be sure to write to him about what you told him the other night;
+would he not? And most probably your uncle wants to talk it over with
+him."
+
+"Oh yes," she said, "that must be it; do you think I should go down and
+speak to Uncle Edward?"
+
+"No," I said, "you must lie down directly; you do not look at all fit
+to go downstairs, and I will tell Ambrose to ask your uncle to come up
+here."
+
+But before I had time to carry out my intention the door opened, and
+Mr. Edward Trafford came in.
+
+"How do you do, Evelyn, my dear?" he said, in an agitated voice. "Can
+you tell me in which direction your father has gone? Ambrose has been
+trying to explain to me, but I could not quite make out what he meant,
+these different turnings in the park are so bewildering."
+
+"Had not you better wait, uncle, till papa comes back?" said Evelyn; "I
+do not think he can be long now, and you might miss him if you went to
+meet him."
+
+"Yes," he said, "so I might; I think I will wait."
+
+"You will have luncheon, uncle?" said Evelyn.
+
+"No, no! Indeed, my dear," said her uncle; "no, I had something as I
+came along—no, I could not touch anything now. I will go downstairs and
+look if I can see your father coming."
+
+"Is anything the matter, uncle?" asked Evelyn, anxiously. "Are any of
+them ill at home?"
+
+"Oh no," he said, hurriedly, "no, dear, no one is ill. I just want to
+see your father on business."
+
+He was very pale and agitated, and looked, Evelyn said, years older
+than when she had seen him last.
+
+We watched him go out upon the drive again, and look first in one
+direction and then in another. Then he passed up and down in front of
+the house for more than half an hour, looking troubled and distressed,
+and with his eyes fixed on the ground, but glancing up hastily every
+few minutes to see if his brother was in sight.
+
+At last Sir William appeared, and we saw the brothers meet. They did
+not come into the house, but they turned into one of the private walks
+in the park, and paced up and down, backwards and forwards, for more
+than an hour. Each time that they turned round they came for some
+little distance within sight of the house, and then they were hidden
+from our view by the trees, and we could not see them again till they
+came back to the same place. They seemed to be talking very earnestly,
+and now and again they stood still and spoke to each other face to
+face, as though they were arguing some important point, on which
+they could not agree, or at least could not come to any satisfactory
+conclusion.
+
+Evelyn was very restless the whole time. She began to follow the
+example of her father and uncle, and to pace up and down the room; but
+I insisted on her putting her feet up on the sofa and remaining quiet.
+
+At length the two gentlemen brought their walk and their talk to a
+conclusion, and came towards the house. Sir William ran upstairs as
+soon as he came in.
+
+"How are you, my dear child?" he said to Evelyn, even more tenderly
+than usual. "You look so pale. Please take care of her, Miss Lindsay,
+and make her lie down."
+
+"What is the matter, papa?" whispered Evelyn, whilst I prepared to
+leave the room, thinking Sir William might wish to speak to her alone.
+
+"Oh, I will tell you about it afterwards, dear," said her father; "it
+is some rather unpleasant business about which your uncle wanted to see
+me. Don't go away, please, Miss Lindsay; we have letters to write at
+once, I must not stay now."
+
+In spite of Evelyn's pleading glances, Sir William went downstairs, and
+he and his brother, after hastily partaking of dinner, spent the rest
+of the evening together in Sir William's private room.
+
+"What can it be?" Evelyn kept saying. "What can papa mean by unpleasant
+business? It can't be about what I told him the other night, or he
+would have said so. What can be the matter?"
+
+Of course, I could not help her to find out, we could only wonder and
+wait.
+
+
+Mr. Edward Trafford left the next morning at a very early hour, that he
+might catch the first train for London. Sir William and I were alone at
+breakfast, for Evelyn was not well enough to rise.
+
+"How is Evelyn this morning?" said Sir William, anxiously, as I entered
+the room.
+
+I told him that she had had a bad night, and was still in bed.
+
+"Oh dear! Oh dear!" he said. "I will not tell her to-day; I think it
+might upset her still more; I will wait till she is somewhat better."
+
+"Don't you think, Sir William," I ventured to say, "that the suspense
+of not knowing what is the matter is worse for Evelyn than knowing the
+truth?"
+
+"Well, perhaps you are right, Miss Lindsay," he said; "I will tell her
+after breakfast."
+
+"I hope it is no great trouble, Sir William?"
+
+"Well, it is a most unpleasant business," he said; "the fact is, that
+nephew of mine is a downright rascal. What poor Evelyn ever saw to
+admire in him I never could tell. I always knew he was good-for-nothing
+but mischief, and he has proved I was right. I will tell you about it,
+Miss Lindsay, and then you can advise me as to the best way of telling
+Evelyn. You know my brother was here yesterday—poor fellow, he is
+dreadfully crushed by it! I am very sorry for him, although, as I could
+not help telling him, he has himself to blame for it. He was so weak
+with that boy; he gave him everything he wanted as a child, and spoiled
+him, and pampered him, and petted him, and let him order every one in
+the house about, and then was foolish enough to expect him, after this,
+to turn out well, and to earn his own living.
+
+"But to make a long story short, my brother received a telegram the
+night before last, telling him that his son had run off from the bank,
+taking more than £500 with him. No one knows where he is gone, and, of
+course, detectives have been sent off in all directions to catch him,
+and his poor father is quite weighed down with shame and sorrow. If he
+is found, of course he will get a long term of imprisonment; and, if he
+escapes, it is not likely that his friends will ever hear of him again,
+for he will never dare to come to England."
+
+"Where do they think he has gone?" I asked.
+
+"Probably to Spain," Sir William said, "but we cannot tell. And now,
+what do you think about my telling Evelyn? I am afraid it will upset
+her very much!"
+
+"Yes," I said, "I am afraid it will; she will feel it dreadfully, but
+still I almost think it would be better to tell her, for she must know
+some time, and she will be less able to bear it if she is kept longer
+in suspense."
+
+"Well," said Sir William, "I believe you are right, Miss Lindsay; I
+will go upstairs now; it will be better to get it over."
+
+I sat waiting his return in the library, but more than an hour passed
+before he reappeared. Then he said, "I have told her, Miss Lindsay, and
+she bore it better than I expected, poor child. Will you go upstairs
+and try to comfort her a little?"
+
+I went upstairs, and found Evelyn still in bed; her face was buried in
+the pillow, and she was crying bitterly. I sat down beside her without
+speaking for some time, just holding her hand in mine, to show her how
+much I was feeling for her. What could I say to comfort her? I hardly
+knew what to say, and perhaps, after all, silent sympathy was the best.
+
+At length, after a long time, she grew calmer, and then she said,
+without uncovering her face:
+
+"Oh, May, isn't it dreadful?"
+
+"Yes, darling," I said, "I am very, very sorry; I had no idea it was
+anything so dreadful as that!"
+
+"No," she said, "and I am sure I had not; the very worst that I could
+think of was that Donald had got very badly into debt, and had wasted
+all his money. I never dreamt that he—"
+
+But here she burst into tears, and could not go on with what she was
+saying.
+
+"Evelyn, dear," I said, "for your father's sake, try not to make
+yourself ill; he is so fond of you, and so distressed at the thought of
+what this trouble must be to you."
+
+"Yes," she said through her tears, "papa has been so kind, so very,
+very kind. He told me that it was because he loved me so much that he
+could not bear to think of me caring for Donald. Papa says he always
+thought that Donald was good-for-nothing; but he seemed so nice, May,
+so very nice he was to me. I knew he was foolish and careless, but I
+never thought he could do a wicked thing like that!"
+
+Evelyn had stopped crying now, and could talk quite calmly.
+
+"Do you remember, May," she said, "when he was here last, something
+that Donald said to you and to me about running away?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "I remember it quite well; he mentioned it twice when I
+was in the room."
+
+"Yes," she said, "so he did. Oh, May, could he have been thinking of
+taking the money then?"
+
+"I do not know, dear," I said, "we must hope not; we must hope that he
+yielded to a sudden temptation, and that he has been sorry for it ever
+since."
+
+"Oh, May, I am afraid not," said Evelyn; "do you know I seem to see
+Donald in quite a different light from what I did before,—more as papa
+has been seeing him all the time. I am afraid papa was right about him,
+May, and I was wrong. Ah! Poor, poor Donald!"
+
+"Will you ring for Clemence, May?" Evelyn said, a few minutes after
+this, "and I will get up; I shall feel better if I am dressed and in
+the other room."
+
+
+But the other room made very little difference in poor Evelyn's
+spirits. She tried to work, she tried to read, she tried to write,
+but all were alike impossible; her thoughts were ever busy with her
+trouble, and every attempt to divert them was in vain.
+
+As the day went on, she talked much more, and it seemed a relief to her
+to tell me everything that her father had told her that morning.
+
+"May," she said, "did papa tell you about the ring?"
+
+"No," I said, "he only just told me in a few words what was the matter,
+that I might be able to tell him whether I thought it would be better
+to tell you about it at once, or to wait until to-morrow."
+
+"Oh, I am so glad you asked him to tell me to-day," said Evelyn; "it
+would have been dreadful to have waited all that time, and not to have
+known what was the matter. But I was going to tell you about the ring.
+You know Uncle Edward went, first of all, as soon as he received the
+telegram, to London, that he might hear all he could about Donald's
+disappearance. He went, amongst other places, to his lodgings, and
+looked about the room, and turned over all his papers, to see if he had
+left any note behind him; and do you know Uncle Edward found such a
+quantity of bills, most of them unopened, and all of them unpaid, and
+amongst others there was one from a London jeweller for a diamond ring
+worth £75. Uncle Edward could not imagine why Donald had bought such an
+expensive ring, and said it would be a very heavy sum to pay, for he
+means to pay as many of the tradesmen as he can. So then papa told him
+the story of the ring, and gave it back to him, that he might return it
+to the jeweller instead of paying the bill. Uncle Edward was very much
+annoyed that Donald should have treated papa so badly, after papa's
+kindness to him, for he would never have got that good place in the
+bank if it had not been for papa."
+
+Oh, how I wondered if this was the opportunity for which I had been
+praying so long, the opportunity of speaking to my dear Evelyn about
+eternal things, and of leading her to the Saviour. I hoped it was, and
+I turned the hope into an earnest prayer, that I might have the wisdom
+to follow as God should lead, to step into the door as soon as ever His
+hand opened it. Once or twice I thought of speaking, but then again I
+felt, perhaps, that, till the first burst of her sorrow was over, it
+was wiser to be silent. But a sweet thought came across me as I sat at
+my work that evening, that, after all, the nearest way to reach the
+heart of one we love is to go round by heaven; and I tried, oh, how
+earnestly, to reach Evelyn's heart in that way.
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE OPPORTUNITY GIVEN.
+
+[Illustration] THE next morning, as I was looking at the newspaper on
+the library table, my eyes caught the words "Ellis—Fitzgerald."
+
+I found that it was an announcement of Claude's and Alice's marriage.
+It was wonderful to me how calmly and composedly I could read it.
+That trouble was, in deed and in truth, a thing of the past. I could
+"rejoice to-day; the pain was over long ago." I could thank God, with
+all my heart, that He had not let me yield to the temptation which at
+that time was so strong to me, and that He had saved me from the lot
+which, a year ago, I had thought would be so bright.
+
+I took the newspaper with me when I went to Evelyn's room, and pointed
+to the marriage. I thought it might help to turn her thoughts a little
+from her trouble.
+
+"So Alice is married, poor girl!" she said. "I had forgotten that it
+was to be so soon."
+
+"Why do you call her poor, Evelyn?" I asked. "Most people would say
+happy girl."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Evelyn, "perhaps I ought not to have said so.
+Mr. Ellis is a great friend of yours, I know; but, somehow, I do not
+think I should like to marry him myself; now would you, May?"
+
+"No," I said, very decidedly, "not at all."
+
+We went on with our work without speaking for some time, and then
+Evelyn asked:
+
+"May, do you remember what Alice Fitzgerald said about laughing trouble
+away?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "quite well."
+
+"I don't at all agree with her," said Evelyn; "I can't laugh when I am
+in trouble, it would be of no use trying. I could not laugh to-day—if I
+tried to laugh, I should begin to cry directly."
+
+"And even if you could laugh, Evelyn dear," I said, "the trouble would
+come back again the next moment heavier than ever."
+
+"Oh, May," said Evelyn, suddenly, "I wish I could do the other thing."
+
+"What other thing?" I asked.
+
+"Why, pray," she said. "Don't you remember you said that you always
+prayed when you were in trouble. I wish I could do that."
+
+I did not answer her until I had sent up an earnest prayer that I might
+use the opportunity now that it was given to me, and that I might step
+inside the door, which at last seemed to be opened to me.
+
+"But why can't you pray, Evelyn dear?" I asked.
+
+"Well, May, I will tell you why," she said; "I have wanted to talk to
+you about it so very much, only I didn't like to begin. You see I have
+been thinking a great deal lately, and wishing that I was happy like
+you; and, one day when you were out of the room, you left on the table
+a bundle of those little books that you take with you when you go to
+see your poor people; so what do you think I did? I thought I should
+like to see what they were about, so I got one and read it; and then I
+put it back so carefully afterwards, just in the same place, that you
+might not find out what I had been doing. You did not find out?"
+
+"Oh no," I said, "indeed I did not; but which one was it that you read?"
+
+"It was about the prodigal son; don't you remember that one?"
+
+"No," I said, "I have not read them all; was it a nice one?"
+
+"Yes, very nice, and it made it very clear about prayer. I have been
+thinking of it often since."
+
+"Will you tell me what you read?" I asked.
+
+"It pictured the prodigal son," said Evelyn, "going home, after he had
+treated his poor old father so badly, and beginning: 'Please, father,
+I want a new coat,' or, 'Please, father, give me some new shoes,' or,
+'Please, father, I want some food very much.' It pictured him asking
+his father to supply his wants before ever he had asked him to forgive
+him for his bad behaviour to him. That wouldn't have been the right
+way, would it, May?"
+
+"No," I said, "it would not have done for that to come before the
+'Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more
+worthy to be called thy son.'"
+
+"Yes," said Evelyn, "and your little book said it was just the same
+now, and yet so many people wanted to go to God, and to ask Him for
+all sorts of things when they got into trouble, and yet they had never
+thought of asking Him to forgive them."
+
+"I see what you mean," I said; "we must speak to God about our sins,
+before we can speak to Him about our troubles."
+
+"Oh, May," said Evelyn, "I wish I could do that. I wish I could talk
+to God about my sins. I never know till now how bad I had been to Him;
+but last night I seemed to see myself in quite a different way. I used
+to think, May, that I was not so very bad. I didn't think that I was
+at all good like you, still I thought that there was not so very much
+wrong with me. But now I see that I'm bad altogether; I don't think I
+have ever done anything good at all."
+
+"Why don't you go and tell God that, Evelyn darling, just as you have
+been telling me? That would be a prayer, just like the prayer of the
+prodigal son, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee.'"
+
+"Yes, May," she said; "but suppose I tell Him that with all my heart,
+is that enough?"
+
+"Yes, quite enough, if you ask God to forgive you because Jesus has
+died, and if you trust in Jesus as your own Saviour," I said.
+
+"Oh, May," said Evelyn, with a sigh, "come and sit beside me, and make
+it very plain and simple for me—as you would for a little child. I am
+so much afraid of making a mistake."
+
+Oh, how earnestly I prayed that I might also make no mistake, but might
+be helped to lead her to Jesus!
+
+"Evelyn," I said, "I want to tell you something that I was reading in
+one of my favourite books the other day, because I think it makes it so
+very plain. You remember the three crosses on Calvary?"
+
+"Yes," she said, "there was the middle cross, with Jesus on it, and on
+each side of Him there was a thief."
+
+"Yes," I said, "and both the thieves had been great sinners, both had
+led bad lives, and yet, oh, how differently they died! One thief went
+straight to Paradise, to be welcomed there by Jesus, the other went
+down to hell. Now, why was there this difference? Did you ever think
+why it was that one thief was saved, and the other thief was lost?"
+
+"I suppose," she said, "it was because one thief looked to Jesus, and
+the other did not."
+
+"Yes," I said, "quite so; but that is not all. What did looking to
+Jesus do for the thief?"
+
+"I don't know," she said.
+
+"Well," I answered, "my book puts it in this way. Both thieves deserved
+to go to hell because of their sins; both of them before they were
+nailed to the cross had sin in them, for they both had sinful hearts,
+they were born in sin, and they were both sinners. And they had also
+both of them sin on them, the burden and guilt and punishment of their
+sins resting on them; they both must suffer the consequences of their
+sin—both must go to hell."
+
+"Yes," she said, "I see that."
+
+"But now let us look at them again some hours later. They have been
+nailed to the cross, and one thief has looked to Jesus, but the other
+thief has not. Just look at the three crosses now. First, here is the
+thief who would have nothing to do with Jesus. Has he still sin in him?"
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"Has he still the guilt of sin resting on him?"
+
+"Yes, he is just as he was before."
+
+"Now, then, look at the middle cross; look at Jesus, has He sin in Him?"
+
+"Oh no," she said, "He never sinned; He was quite holy."
+
+"But was there no sin on Him?" I said.
+
+"Was there, May?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," I answered, "don't you remember it says, 'The Lord hath laid on
+Him the iniquity of us all.' It was not His own sin that was resting on
+Him, but ours."
+
+"Oh yes," she said, "I see what you mean."
+
+"And now look at the third cross. There hangs the thief who has looked
+to Jesus. He still has sin in him; till he gets to heaven, his heart
+will be sinful still. But has he sin on him? That is to say, do the
+guilt and consequences of his sin still rest on him?"
+
+"No, I don't think they do," she said.
+
+"Oh no," I said, "for he has laid his sin on Jesus; it is no longer
+resting on him: it is taken off him, and put on to Jesus, and therefore
+this thief is saved. Now, do you see what looking to Jesus means? It
+means that the thief looked to Jesus as the One who was being punished
+for his sin, and who was suffering in his place. Do you see?"
+
+"I think I do," said Evelyn.
+
+"Well, my book goes on to say, that all the people in the world die as
+one or other of those thieves died. All without exception die with sin
+in them, for the Bible tells us that 'if we say that we have no sin we
+deceive ourselves.' But those who look to Jesus as the One who has been
+punished in their place, though they have sin in them till they die,
+yet they have no sin on them, for the guilt and responsibility of their
+sins no longer rests on them, but on Jesus. You remember that hymn:
+
+   "'I lay my sins on Jesus,
+       The spotless Lamb of God;
+     He bears them all, and frees us
+       From the accursed load.'"
+
+"Yes," she said, "I like that hymn very much. I do wish I could do it,
+May."
+
+"You are going to do it this morning, Evelyn dear," I said.
+
+"Oh, May, do you think I can?" she asked.
+
+"I am sure of it, darling; Jesus is willing, Jesus is longing for you
+to cast your sin upon Him. He says to you: 'Look unto Me, as the One
+who died instead of you; look unto Me, as the One who was punished in
+your place; look unto Me, and be ye saved.'"
+
+"Oh, May, I should like to do it at once," she said.
+
+So I went downstairs and left her alone, and yet not alone.
+
+
+I did not see Evelyn again till I went upstairs to her room for
+luncheon. She was lying quietly on the sofa where I had left her, but
+she called me to her side and whispered:
+
+"Oh, May, I am so happy now. Sin is still in me, but no longer on me,
+for I have laid it on Jesus."
+
+I need hardly say how very thankful I felt to God for answering my
+prayer. It seemed almost too good to be true. A blessing that we have
+been waiting for, anxiously longing and waiting for, is always of
+double value when it comes.
+
+From that day I began, as it were, a new life in Alliston Hall. Before
+this, Evelyn used to dislike and avoid any approach to what she
+considered "religious talk;" but now her great delight was to read a
+chapter with me in the Bible, and to ask me questions about anything
+which she did not quite understand.
+
+I shall never forget that summer; it was a very peaceful and a very
+happy one. I had every reason to believe that Evelyn's heart was indeed
+changed. Every one noticed the difference in her, and many, who did not
+understand what is the power of the Holy Spirit in the heart, wondered
+what was the cause of it.
+
+There was one who rejoiced in this change in Evelyn quite as much as I
+did, and that one was Miss Irvine. She spent nearly the whole summer at
+Alliston Hall, and Evelyn, instead of avoiding her company as she had
+so often done before, delighted to have her with her, that they might
+talk together about heavenly things.
+
+Day by day Evelyn grew in grace, and seemed more anxious about the
+welfare of her own soul, and of the souls of those around her. She
+was much braver than I was, in speaking to others about their eternal
+welfare. I often felt ashamed of myself when she told me how she had
+spoken to Clemence, or to one of the other servants; and she did it in
+such a simple, natural way, that it was always well received, and never
+gave offence.
+
+But, though Evelyn was growing in grace day by day, she was not growing
+in bodily strength. Indeed, as the summer went on she seemed to get
+weaker instead of stronger. The trouble she had had about her cousin
+Donald had been so sudden and unexpected, that she had not recovered
+from the effects of it.
+
+Evelyn never, so far as I knew, mentioned her cousin's name in Sir
+William's presence, and only once did she name him to me, when she
+asked me if I knew whether anything had been heard of him; but I
+noticed how anxiously she asked for the newspapers every day, and with
+what trembling fingers she turned over the pages. There had been an
+account of the affair in the "Times" the same week that it happened,
+and Evelyn was continually expecting to find that Mr. Trafford had been
+apprehended. But there was no further notice of it in the newspapers,
+and, one day, Sir William told me that his nephew had evidently made
+his escape to some foreign land, and he did not think that he would
+ever be heard of again.
+
+
+As the summer passed away, and the days became shorter and the nights
+cooler, Evelyn became no stronger; she had a very troublesome cough,
+which kept her awake at night, and she looked pale and fragile.
+
+Sir William was very anxious about her, and had many consultations with
+the doctors, and at last it was agreed that the best thing possible for
+her would be to leave England for a time and to spend the winter abroad.
+
+The doctors said that the warmer climate would be good for her health,
+and Sir William felt that the excitement and pleasure of travelling
+would turn her thoughts, more than anything else, from her trouble and
+disappointment.
+
+"And where do you think we are going, May?" said Evelyn, when she had
+told me with great joy what her father had decided.
+
+"I do not know at all, Evelyn," I said; "I thought perhaps it would be
+to Mentone, or perhaps somewhere in Italy."
+
+"Oh no," said Evelyn; "nowhere so commonplace as that! Guess again!"
+
+But I could not guess, so she told me, with great delight, that Sir
+William's plan was to go down the Mediterranean to Egypt, and then, if
+Evelyn was well enough, to go on in the early spring to Jerusalem.
+
+"To Jerusalem! Oh, Evelyn," I said, "you will enjoy that."
+
+"Yes, and so will you, May," she said. "I know how you long to go
+there; I was quite as glad for you as for myself, when papa told me."
+
+"Oh, Evelyn," I said; "do you mean to say that I am going too? I never
+dreamt of that."
+
+"Of course you are going," she said, indignantly. "Do you think I could
+do without you? Oh, May, isn't it delightful!"
+
+It seemed to me far too good and too wonderful to be true. To go to
+Jerusalem, the city which our Lord loved, and over which He wept; to
+see the hillsides where He so often sat, and to tread the mountain
+paths on which His feet had so often walked,—this seemed far too great
+a joy ever to be mine.
+
+But there was very little time to sit and dream over it, for we were
+plunged, at once, into all the bustle and confusion which a departure
+from home for a long time causes in large households as well as in
+small ones.
+
+We were to start in three weeks' time, for Sir William was anxious
+that we should get the sea-voyage over before the weather became
+colder and more unsettled. He very kindly gave me leave to go to the
+Manor House at Branston for a few days, that I might say good-bye to
+my little sister before being parted from her for so long. I should
+never have thought of asking for a holiday at this busy time, but Sir
+William proposed it himself, and was good enough to say, when I began
+to suggest difficulties, that he should insist upon my going whether I
+liked it or not.
+
+It was indeed a pleasure for me to see my dear little Maggie again, and
+the three sisters were kindness itself to me. But they did not at all
+like the idea of my going to Jerusalem; indeed, at first, they even
+wanted me to throw up my situation because of having to go abroad.
+
+However, when they saw that it was of no use trying to persuade me to
+do this, and that I was looking forward to the proposed journey as to a
+most delightful and pleasant thing, they all united in trying to warn
+me of the consequences. Miss Jane had a very ancient book, describing
+the adventures and narrow escapes of some travellers in Palestine many
+years ago, and she brought this book out from her bookcase, and read
+all the most alarming passages for my edification, till poor Maggie was
+quite frightened, and clung to me, and said she would never let me go.
+
+I assured them that travelling in Palestine twenty years ago was a
+very different thing, and that now the dangers were much less, and the
+difficulties not nearly so numerous. But Miss Jane did nothing but
+shake her head mournfully, and said she should indeed be thankful if I
+came back alive; whilst Miss Hannah and Miss Louisa actually shed tears
+at the bare thought of the perils I was about to undergo. However, I
+comforted them by promising to write often, and I told them that I
+would give them an account of all my adventures, though I did not think
+they would be so exciting or remarkable as those of the gentlemen in
+Miss Jane's book.
+
+When I returned to Alliston Hall, I found that all necessary
+preparations were made for the journey. Sir William was anticipating it
+quite as much as we were. He had travelled a great deal when he was a
+young man, and he was looking forward with pleasure to taking Evelyn to
+some of the places which he had visited so many years before.
+
+At length the last night came, when everything was peeked, and we had
+nothing to do but to sit at the window and to talk of the journey
+before us.
+
+I was feeling the reaction, which so often comes after the excitement
+of preparations for a journey, and was almost wishing that, after all,
+we were not going so far away. Who could tell whether we should all
+return again? Who could tell whether I should ever see my little sister
+again?
+
+At this moment the door was opened, and a letter was brought in which
+had come by the evening post. The letter was from dear Miss Irvine, to
+say how much she should think of us whilst we Were travelling, and how
+often she should turn the text, which she enclosed, into prayer on our
+behalf.
+
+"What is the text, I wonder?" said Evelyn, as she put down the letter.
+"Oh, I see; here are two cards in the envelope; one for you, and one
+for me."
+
+She handed me mine, and the text seemed an answer to my fears:
+
+   "The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this
+time forth, and even for evermore."
+
+And underneath the text there was this hymn:
+
+   Going out from the ones I love
+     Far over land and sea;
+   Going out into dreary ways,
+     Working, my Lord, for Thee;
+   Going out with an anxious heart,
+     Serving in earth's rough soil;
+   Going out to the daily fight—
+     Worry, and care, and toil.
+
+   Going out when the work is done,
+     Leaving the earthly strife;
+   Going out to the unknown world,
+     Passing through death to life;
+   Going out, and yet, not alone,
+     Lord, Thou wilt go before:
+   Keep me, Lord, in my going out,
+     Now, and for evermore.
+
+   Coming in from the distant land,
+     Thankful no more to roam;
+   Coming in from the outer work,
+     Meeting the cares at home;
+   Coming in from the larger field,
+     Sowing the Master's seed;
+   Dropping some in the children's hearts
+     Yearning their souls to feed.
+
+   Coming in to the Father's home,
+     Welcomed with joy at last;
+   Coming in, to go out no more,
+     Partings for ever past;
+   Coming in, and yet, not alone—
+     Standing beside the door:
+   Meet me, Lord, in my coming in,
+     Now, and for evermore.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+BRINDISI.
+
+[Illustration] We left England, and began our delightful journey at the
+end of October. Evelyn improved in health and spirits from the moment
+that we started, and Sir William was thoroughly happy in witnessing the
+enjoyment of his child. I need hardly say what a treat this journey
+was to me. I had never been out of England before, and, therefore,
+everything abroad was quite new and strange to me, and I felt as if I
+was having a very pleasant and delightful dream.
+
+We spent some time in Paris, and went about to all the places of
+interest both in and near the city. From Paris we went to Turin, where
+we rested for more than a week, before undertaking the long and tedious
+journey from Turin to Brindisi. We arrived at Brindisi late on Saturday
+night; we were all very tired and worn out, and exceedingly glad to
+get to our journey's end. We stayed at an hotel near the sea, such a
+curious Eastern-looking place, with bare stone floors and whitewashed
+walls, and only just as much furniture in the large rooms as was
+absolutely necessary.
+
+The next morning I awoke early, and went to my window and looked out.
+It seemed a perfect fairy-land to me. The harbour was as still as a
+lake, and covered with the reflection of the ships and boats, with
+their pretty lateen sails. And beyond the harbour there was the blue
+Mediterranean sparkling in the morning sunshine.
+
+It looked very unlike Sunday, for work was going on just as on any
+other day; and the people of Brindisi were buying, and selling, and
+hurrying along, as though it were the busiest day in the week.
+
+I took my Testament, and sat at a little distance from the window, and
+had a quiet time alone before Clemence came to say that Evelyn was
+dressed, and was going downstairs for breakfast.
+
+We were to go on board the steamer that night, as it was to leave early
+the next morning; but Sir William arranged that during the day we
+should stay quietly at the hotel.
+
+The weather had been very cold when we were at Turin, and we found a
+great change of climate at Brindisi. The sky was a deep, unclouded
+blue, and the sunshine was so hot that we found it difficult to keep
+cool. Evelyn and I discovered a seat on the flat roof of the hotel,
+where we were shaded from the hot sun and could read together quietly.
+We read aloud the Psalms for the day, verse by verse. One of these was
+Psalm cxxii., and it was with a wonderfully strange feeling that we
+read those words:
+
+   "Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem."
+
+"May," said Evelyn, "can you believe that verse is really true of us?"
+
+When we had finished our reading, Sir William came out to us, and
+persuaded us to venture out of the shady corner in which we had been
+sitting, and to walk to the other end of the roof, that we might look
+at the view to be seen from thence.
+
+To our surprise we found that we were not alone on the roof. An English
+gentleman was leaning over the parapet with a book in his hand, looking
+towards the sea. He turned round as we came up, and slipped his book
+into his pocket. I fancied that it was a Bible.
+
+Sir William and the strange gentleman soon got into conversation about
+Brindisi and its surroundings, and he pointed out to us several objects
+of interest in the neighbourhood. He was not a very young man, though
+I fancied that he looked older than he really was. There was something
+in his face, when it was at rest, which made me think that he had been
+through a great deal of trouble, and yet, when he smiled, his whole
+face was lighted up in a moment, and he looked perfectly different. He
+was not exactly a handsome man, and yet his was a face which, having
+once seen, you could never forgot, and which you could not help liking.
+That was my first impression of Mr. Stanley, so far as I can now
+remember.
+
+Sir William was very charmed with him, and said afterwards that he had
+seldom met such a well-read, sensible man. We sat together on the roof,
+and Evelyn and I acted the part of listeners, whilst the two gentlemen
+talked.
+
+"You are going to Jerusalem, I think," said Mr. Stanley, as Sir William
+was unfolding his plans to him; "I have been there several times."
+
+This led to many inquiries on Sir William's part about the
+accommodation to be found in Jerusalem, etc. etc. But Evelyn and
+I wondered very much how Mr. Stanley knew that we were going to
+Jerusalem. Could he have heard us reading that Psalm, and saying that
+it was soon to be true of us?
+
+"I am afraid you will be disappointed in Jerusalem," said Mr.
+Stanley, turning to us; "you must remember that though it is still
+'beautiful for situation,' yet Jerusalem is no longer 'the joy of the
+whole earth.' It is, indeed, beautiful at a distance, and every one
+is charmed who sees it for the first time; but when you go inside
+the walls, and know it well, you cannot help feeling depressed and
+saddened."
+
+"But there are brighter days coming for Jerusalem," I ventured to say.
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Stanley, "Jerusalem will be a hundredfold more
+than she ever was before—the City of the Great King."
+
+But Sir William always regarded the study of prophecy as a mixture of
+presumption and romance, and he quickly led the conversation into a
+different channel; but I longed to hear what Mr. Stanley's views were
+about the return of the Jews and the restoration of Jerusalem.
+
+That evening we went on board the steamer which was to take us to
+Alexandria. There were a great many first-class passengers, and we
+had some difficulty in obtaining a cabin to ourselves. At length Sir
+William managed to secure a small one for Evelyn and me, in which there
+were only two berths, and as soon as table d'hôte was over, we went to
+our cabin.
+
+There were very few passengers present at dinner; Mr. Stanley was
+there, and a few others whom we had seen in the hotel at Brindisi; but
+most of the people came on board as we were going to bed. They had just
+arrived by the late train from Turin, and had secured their cabins
+beforehand by telegraphing to the captain.
+
+Evelyn and I were undressing when we heard a voice in the saloon, which
+we were almost sure we knew. It was a lady's voice, and she was giving
+orders to the stewardess in an imperious tone, with regard to the
+arrangement of her cabin.
+
+"That must be Lady Eldridge," said Evelyn to me; "it is exactly like
+her voice."
+
+Clemence went, at this moment, to get some hot water, and returned with
+the information that it was Lady Eldridge, and that she had taken the
+next cabin to ours.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Evelyn. "I wonder where she is going. I hope not to
+Cairo; I remember she often spends the winter there. Well, we shall
+hear in the morning!"
+
+As Lady Eldridge's voice had been the last thing we heard at night, so
+it was the first thing that we heard in the morning. She had brought
+no maid with her; and, as she was utterly unable to do anything for
+herself, she was constantly calling the poor stewardess, who had
+already more work than she could get through, to help her in the
+various stages of her toilet.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Evelyn, as Lady Eldridge's voice was heard again and
+again, "I do hope she is not going to Cairo; we must find out at once."
+
+We met Lady Eldridge at breakfast; she professed herself delighted
+beyond measure at meeting Sir William and Evelyn, and wished to know
+where they were going, and how long she would have the wonderful
+pleasure of travelling in their company.
+
+"It is such trying work travelling alone, my dear," she said to Evelyn,
+"and I am naturally very nervous; it is really quite miraculous my
+meeting you. Sir William, I feel sure, will not refuse to take me under
+his care."
+
+Sir William bowed, and said he would be very glad to help Lady Eldridge
+in any way he could; but I did not think he seemed particularly glad of
+the addition to our party, for such Lady Eldridge, from that moment,
+considered herself to be. She turned over all responsibility about her
+baggage to Sir William, and she used Clemence as freely as if she had
+been her own maid.
+
+"But," said Lady Eldridge, as we were finishing breakfast, "you have
+never yet told me where you are going, Evelyn, my dear."
+
+Evelyn was about to answer her, when, to my surprise, Sir William
+prevented her.
+
+"Our plans are not yet formed, Lady Eldridge," he said; "I am going to
+consider this morning what our tour will be, and then I shall be able
+to let you know."
+
+"Oh, you must come to Cairo," said Lady Eldridge, decidedly; "there is
+no place like Cairo in the winter. The climate is simply perfect, my
+dear," she said, turning to Evelyn. "Now, Sir William, you must decide
+to stay at least three months at Cairo, and then we can all spend the
+winter together. Now come, I think that is a capital plan!"
+
+Sir William smiled, and said he would consider the matter; but there
+were many other places that he wished to visit, and he could not
+make up his mind hastily. We did not see much of Lady Eldridge after
+breakfast, for she remained in the saloon the whole day reading a
+French novel, and seemed to think us very extraordinary girls because
+we chose to go on deck.
+
+Evelyn and I found a sheltered seat, where the cold wind did not reach
+us; and here we sat with our books and our work until the evening. The
+steamer had started early in the morning, and though a fresh breeze
+was blowing, still the sea was not uncomfortably rough, and we were
+beginning to think that sea voyages were not half so disagreeable and
+uncomfortable as people made them out to be.
+
+Sir William paced up and down the deck with Mr. Stanley nearly all the
+morning, discussing his future plans. Every now and then they stopped
+to examine a map or a guidebook; and at length they sat down on a
+seat, and Sir William took a pencil from his pocket, and wrote at Mr.
+Stanley's dictation.
+
+"I wonder what papa has settled!" said Evelyn. "I wish he would come
+and tell us. I am sure he does not want to go to Cairo, now that Lady
+Eldridge is going there. Did not you notice that he would not let me
+say where we were going?"
+
+When Sir William had finished writing, he and Mr. Stanley came towards
+us, and Sir William told us, to our great joy, that we were going at
+once to Jerusalem. Mr. Stanley had told him that there was a clean,
+comfortable hotel there, and that the climate in December and January
+was generally beautiful.
+
+"So I think we will stop in Jerusalem a month or two," said Sir
+William, "and then decide where we go next. What do you say to that,
+Evelyn?"
+
+"Oh, papa," said Evelyn, "it is just what I wanted. I am longing to get
+to Jerusalem!"
+
+"'Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem,'" said Mr.
+Stanley, with a smile. And then we were sure that he had heard us
+reading the Psalm.
+
+At sunset the wind became very strong; the ship rolled heavily, and the
+passengers were glad to go to their cabins. It was a dreadful night. I
+shall never forget it. Every hour the storm became more terrible. I had
+never thought that a storm at sea could be so dreadful. The waves were
+beating over our heads, and, every now and then, the cabin was lighted
+up by a vivid flash of lightning, which was followed almost immediately
+by a terrible clap of thunder. Every two or three minutes we heard the
+crash of breaking crockery, and the broken cups, and jugs, and glasses
+were thrown backwards and forwards on the floor, as the ship pitched
+and tossed.
+
+I wonder that so many people have such peaceful ideas of the
+Mediterranean Sea, after reading the Bible accounts of it. Oh, how
+often during that dreadful night we thought of St. Paul in the storm,
+probably just in this very part of the Mediterranean; and we could so
+well picture that scene in Jonah's life when the sailors, unwilling
+to cast him overboard, made a last mighty effort to bring the ship to
+land, but the sea wrought and was tempestuous, and they were not able
+to manage it.
+
+And then David's description of the storm, in Psalm cvii., must refer
+to this very sea. How often we repeated those verses to each other that
+night:
+
+   "'He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.
+Then are they glad because they be quiet; so He bringeth them unto their
+desired haven.'"
+
+"Oh, May," said Evelyn, as I crept to her side when the storm was at
+its height, "what a comfort it is to know we are safe, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "I cannot think how any one dare travel, and go through
+all the perils by land and water, without knowing that."
+
+"I should not have known it if we had come a year ago," said Evelyn.
+"Oh, May, I should have been terribly frightened then!"
+
+We did not sleep once the whole night, and very long the hours seemed
+to us.
+
+At about three o'clock in the morning we heard Lady Eldridge's voice
+loudly crying for help. She was calling, first for Clemence and then
+for the stewardess, but their cabins were at the other end of the
+saloon, and neither of them heard her.
+
+"What can she want?" said Evelyn.
+
+I put on my dressing-gown, and managed to go as far as the door of Lady
+Eldridge's cabin, that I might see what was the matter.
+
+"Just look here, Miss Lindsay!" she said. "The porthole has burst open,
+and the water has come over my bed. Do go and call the stewardess, and
+tell her to bring me clean linen and blankets."
+
+"I don't know whether I can walk as far as the stewardess's cabin, Lady
+Eldridge," I said, "but I will try; it is terribly rough!"
+
+"Oh, nonsense!" she said. "Hold on by the wall, and you will be all
+right. You don't mean to say you are sea-sick, Miss Lindsay; you should
+get over it. I never believe in sea-sickness; if people only try they
+can keep it off. I feel as well at sea as on land!"
+
+I could not help thinking that, this being the case she might have gone
+for the stewardess herself, instead of insisting that I should go for
+her. However, I did my best, and managed to stagger down the saloon,
+though I fell several times, and cut my hand very much with a broken
+plate, which was being swept across the floor, backwards and forwards,
+as the vessel rolled from side to side.
+
+I found the stewardess lying on the bed in her cabin, crying. She told
+me that she was a widow with three little children, whom she had left
+in England. She had been persuaded to try this way of earning her
+living, and this was her first voyage; but she did not think she could
+ever go again, she had no idea that it would be so dreadful. She told
+me this as she was getting out the sheets for Lady Eldridge's bed, and
+she said that, just as I came in, she was crying because she thought
+she would never see her little children again.
+
+I tried to say a word to comfort her, but the noise of the storm was
+so great that we could hardly hear each other speak. It was some time
+before she had collected everything that was necessary, and Lady
+Eldridge was very impatient and cross when we arrived at her cabin. I
+helped the stewardess to arrange the bed, and then went back to my own
+berth, very thankful to be able to lie still again.
+
+Morning came, but the storm still continued. It raged all Tuesday, all
+Tuesday night, and all Wednesday, and we were not able to leave our
+cabin the whole time. Only on Wednesday did the storm begin to abate,
+and we were able at last to have a quiet sleep. We awoke on Thursday,
+to find the wind gone and the sea much calmer. We were to arrive at
+Alexandria in the afternoon, and every one seemed glad that the stormy
+voyage was drawing to a close.
+
+Lady Eldridge was very much annoyed when she found that we were not
+going with her to Cairo. She told Sir William that it was simple
+madness, on his part, to take a delicate girl like Evelyn to Jerusalem;
+but Sir William only smiled, and said it was Evelyn's wish as well as
+his own, and he thought that, if Lady Eldridge made further inquiries,
+she would find that in the winter months the climate of Jerusalem was
+all that could be desired.
+
+I had a talk with the stewardess that morning, and I was so glad to
+find that the poor woman knew where to turn for comfort and for help.
+She was a real Christian, and, in simple faith, she had trusted her
+children to God's care, and she felt sure that He would watch over them
+till she was able to be with them again. She had left them with her
+brother and his wife, and her thoughts seemed to be constantly with her
+little absent treasures. I was so glad that I had spoken to her, for
+she thanked me very much, and told me that the few words I had said
+to her in the storm had been a great comfort to her, and had made her
+ashamed of herself for being afraid.
+
+
+At length we arrived at Alexandria, and very much enjoyed the sight
+which met our eyes—the intensely white city, the blue water in the
+harbour—the pilot, with a dark hood over his head, arriving in his
+little boat, and coming on board the steamer; and then the countless
+other boats, filled with clamorous Arabs, who were contending with one
+another to secure the largest number of passengers to row to shore.
+It was very curious to watch them fighting like wild beasts for their
+prey, and looking so picturesque in their various costumes that it was
+impossible to feel angry with them.
+
+After much pushing, and quarrelling, and scuffling, and shouting
+had been gone through, we found ourselves in the same boat with Mr.
+Stanley, who had taken us all, Lady Eldridge included, under his
+care, and had bargained on our behalf in Arabic, and made, after much
+difficulty, a fair agreement with the boatman as to the price he would
+charge for his boat.
+
+We stayed one night in Alexandria at the hotel, but we did not see much
+of the city, for we were too tired and worn out with the voyage to go
+out, and were glad to rest quietly until it was time to go on board
+the ship which was to take us to Jaffa, and which started early the
+next day. We left Lady Eldridge in the hotel, and were not sorry to say
+good-bye to her.
+
+It was a small old-fashioned vessel which was to take us the rest
+of the way, very dirty and forlorn, and very different from the
+comfortable steamer of the Peninsular and Oriental Company which we had
+just left; but the sea was calm, so we felt as if we could thankfully
+bear any amount of discomfort.
+
+We were the only first-class passengers on board, but a large party of
+travellers were to join us at Port Said, and they had already engaged
+their cabins.
+
+We stayed on deck until quite late that evening, walking up and down,
+looking at the sun setting over the sea, and talking of all that was
+before us. Sir William had numberless questions to ask about Jerusalem,
+and Mr. Stanley was well able to answer them all, for only two years
+before he had spent a whole winter in Jerusalem that he might sketch
+some of the many places of interest in the city and its neighbourhood;
+and he promised, at Sir William's request, to let us see his sketches
+some day.
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+WAS IT HE?
+
+[Illustration] EARLY on Saturday morning we arrived at Port Said, and
+Sir William proposed that we should go on shore and escape from our
+uncomfortable quarters in the dirty little steamer.
+
+We had no difficulty in obtaining a boat rowed by Arabs, but
+immediately we touched land, we were marched off to the Custom House,
+that our passports might be examined. Sir William had been told in
+London that passports were now quite unnecessary, so we had not
+provided ourselves with any, and he was rather at a loss what to do.
+However, Mr. Stanley came to the rescue, and after he had harangued
+the Turkish officers in Arabic, and had given them a proper amount of
+"baksheesh," we were politely bowed out of the office and allowed to
+enter the town, although we had no passports.
+
+Here Mr. Stanley left us, and we found our way to the one hotel of the
+place, where we had breakfast amidst a crowd of English and American
+travellers, who we found were to be our companions into Syria.
+
+The hotel was uncomfortably small and very noisy, so after breakfast we
+took a walk to see what was to be seen in Port Said.
+
+It was such a curious town; it looked as if it had sprung up in a
+single night like a mushroom. Nearly all the houses were made of wood,
+and looked like large booths put up hastily for a pleasure fair, to be
+taken down again as soon as the fair was over.
+
+The streets, or rather the empty spaces between the rows of houses,
+for they did not deserve the name of streets, were covered with
+orange-peel, oyster-shells, dead dogs and cats, decaying vegetables,
+and all manner of filth; and the whole place looked, Sir William
+said, like pictures he had seen of the wooden towns set up near the
+gold-diggings in America.
+
+We met people of almost every nationality in the streets of Port Said.
+Many of them were very unprepossessing in appearance, and we were told
+that a number of the worst men of all nations find their way there, for
+they know that there is very little law or order in the town, and that
+they will therefore be free from observation, and allowed to do as they
+like.
+
+The week before we arrived at Port Said there had been a great many
+murders there, and we saw a notice in the hotel advising Europeans
+not to go out after dark, as the authorities would not answer for the
+consequences if they did so.
+
+An open square in front of the hotel had been turned into a garden.
+There were not many flowers in it, but there were a few trees and
+shrubs, and a small stone fountain stood in the centre. There was a
+seat in this garden, and Sir William, Evelyn, and I sat here for some
+time, watching the tourists coming in and out of the hotel, consulting
+their guidebooks, asking countless questions of their dragoman, and
+apparently very impatient to be once more on the move.
+
+There were several French shops, in a block of buildings which formed
+one side of the square. Evelyn caught sight of these, and asked me if I
+thought she would be able to buy one or two little things which she was
+anxious to get before going to Jerusalem, "where," she said, "I suppose
+we shall find no shops at all."
+
+"Go and see, my dear," said Sir William, "and I will wait here till you
+come back; I shall be close by if you want me for anything, and I can
+see which shops you are in as I sit here."
+
+So Evelyn and I opened the gate of the hotel garden, and crossed the
+road to the shops. They were very curious shops, a great variety of
+articles seemed to be sold in them; all kinds of French goods, fancy
+articles of every description, and a few useful things, such as
+travelling bags, knapsacks, sunshades, and pith helmets.
+
+We selected the shop which appeared most likely to contain all we
+wished to buy. Evelyn went in first, and I followed her. The shopman
+was at the other end of the shop, attending to some customers, and
+Evelyn and I examined the articles which were exposed for sale until he
+was ready to wait upon us. Then he came up to us, and asked in French
+what we wanted. Evelyn looked up from the box of ornaments over which
+she was bending, and was about to answer him, when I saw her suddenly
+start back in astonishment.
+
+I looked up, to see what had taken her so much by surprise, and I saw
+in a moment what it was.
+
+The young man in the shop was no French tradesman, as we had taken him
+to be; he was her cousin, Donald Trafford! Evelyn had not looked at him
+when we first came into the shop, but as soon as their eyes met she
+recognised him, in spite of his foreign dress and appearance; and he,
+at the same moment, recognised her.
+
+Before we had time to recover from our surprise he was gone; he had
+disappeared through a door into an inner room, and had sent a young
+Frenchwoman to wait upon us.
+
+"Oh, May," whispered Evelyn to me, "never mind about the things; let us
+go back to papa!"
+
+I made some excuse to the French girl, telling her that we could not
+wait longer, and we left the shop at once.
+
+But when we were outside, Evelyn turned so white and faint that I did
+not know how to get her back to the garden. I made signs to Sir William
+to come; but he was reading the newspaper, and did not look up, and I
+did not like to leave Evelyn alone whilst I went to call him.
+
+At this moment, to my great joy, Mr. Stanley came up, and seeing how
+ill Evelyn looked, at once offered her his arm, and walked with her
+back to her father.
+
+As I followed them into the garden I could not help contrasting Mr.
+Stanley's open, manly face with that of Mr. Donald Trafford, who had
+by no means improved in appearance since I saw him last. I wondered
+whether Evelyn was struck by the difference. I almost thought that she
+was, for she thanked Mr. Stanley very pleasantly for his kind help, and
+explained that she had suddenly turned faint when she was in the shop,
+but said she would be quite better in a few moments.
+
+Sir William was very much frightened when he saw his daughter come up
+to him, looking as pale as death, and leaning on Mr. Stanley's arm;
+but she tried to laugh him out of his fears, and told him that she was
+rather tired, and that it was nothing of consequence. Mr. Stanley,
+however, hurried up to the hotel to get a glass of water, and, as soon
+as he was gone, Evelyn burst into tears.
+
+"What is the matter, my darling?" said Sir William, in a very
+distressed voice. "I am afraid the journey has been too much for you.
+Perhaps I was foolish not to follow Lady Eldridge's advice, and go on
+with her to Cairo. You are not strong enough to rough it yet; I almost
+think we had better turn back."
+
+"Oh no, papa, it is not that," said Evelyn; "it is not that at all.
+Tell him, May, what it was."
+
+"Evelyn had a great surprise when she went into that shop, Sir
+William," I said, "for there, dressed like a foreigner, and selling
+behind the counter, was her cousin, Mr. Trafford!"
+
+"Donald!" said Sir William, starting from his seat. "Donald in that
+shop! Surely not! Surely you must have been mistaken! I cannot think
+that he would dare to come to a place like Port Said, where so many
+English people are continually passing through. Oh no, Evelyn, child,
+you must be wrong."
+
+"No, Sir William," I said, "we certainly saw Mr. Trafford; I am quite
+sure we were not mistaken."
+
+At this moment Mr. Stanley returned, and we could not talk any more
+about it. But Sir William seemed lost in thought, and did not enter
+into the conversation, which Evelyn and I tried to keep up.
+
+"Miss Lindsay," he said, at last, "would you show me in which of those
+shops you made your purchases just now? Evelyn dear, you sit still here
+till we come back. Mr. Stanley, may I leave my daughter in your care
+for a few minutes?"
+
+I thought Mr. Stanley was not sorry to be left in charge; but Evelyn
+had turned as pale as she was before, and was trembling from head to
+foot.
+
+Sir William and I left them on the seat near the fountain, and walked
+towards the row of shops.
+
+"I really think you must have been mistaken, Miss Lindsay," he
+repeated; but I told him that I was sure that Mr. Trafford had
+recognised us, for he had strangely and suddenly disappeared, and had
+sent a Frenchwoman to wait upon us.
+
+I waited outside, whilst Sir William went into the shop. He came out in
+a few minutes, looking very much relieved.
+
+"It is quite a mistake, Miss Lindsay," he said; "Donald Trafford is not
+here; I have made full inquiries."
+
+Then he told me that there was no one but the Frenchwoman in the shop
+when he went in, but that he had asked to see the young Englishman
+who was waiting in the shop about a quarter of an hour before. The
+Frenchwoman, however, had assured him that there was no Englishman
+there, nor was there any one who could speak English. It must have been
+her husband whom the ladies had seen; he was in the shop a few minutes
+ago, but he was an Italian—his name was Signor Rialti. Sir William had
+asked to speak to her husband, but she told him he had been suddenly
+called away on business; he was away now, and would not return till
+Monday.
+
+"Then Signor Rialti is evidently the name Mr. Trafford has taken," I
+said.
+
+"Oh, I think not, Miss Lindsay," said Sir William, decidedly; "you and
+Evelyn have been mistaken. I have no doubt that the young Italian bears
+a strong resemblance to Donald Trafford, and that that circumstance has
+led you both to imagine that it must be he."
+
+But, though I was silenced by Sir William's very decided manner, still
+I was far from being convinced; for I was firmly persuaded in my own
+mind that it was indeed Evelyn's cousin whom we had seen that morning.
+
+Mr. Stanley seemed to notice, with the ready perception which he always
+showed, that something had happened to disturb us, and that we should
+like to be left alone, for in a few minutes he made an excuse about
+having to call on some one at the other end of Port Said, and took
+leave of us.
+
+"Well, Evelyn," said Sir William, as soon as we were alone, "you were
+quite wrong. You need not have been so agitated, dear; it was quite a
+mistake." And he told her what he had heard in the shop.
+
+"It is all a tale, papa," she said, when he had finished; "Donald is
+afraid of being found out, and he has put her up to telling that story,
+in case any inquiries should be made about him. He would not be back
+till Monday, did she say? Of course not; he knows quite well that the
+steamer will not start until early on Monday morning."
+
+But Sir William would not be convinced. His wish was, I think, father
+to the thought, for he would have been very much puzzled as to how he
+ought to act had he indeed found his nephew, and he was therefore only
+too glad to believe that he was still in ignorance of Mr. Trafford's
+hiding-place.
+
+I saw Evelyn glancing several times at the French shop as we sat there
+talking of other things, and I was glad for her sake when Sir William
+proposed that we should return to the ship.
+
+
+We spent a very comfortless Sunday on board the wretched little
+steamer. It was impossible to find any quiet place below, for the
+saloon was filled by the large party which we had seen at the hotel
+at Port Said, and most of them spent the day in playing at cards and
+chess, and in talking over their journey in loud voices; and they made
+so much noise that we found it was utterly useless to attempt to read
+or to be quiet there. So we went on deck and found a shady corner,
+where we were at least in comparative quiet.
+
+But the lower deck was the scene of great confusion and noise, for a
+number of pilgrims, who were on their way to Jerusalem, were coming on
+board. There were Greek pilgrims, Latin pilgrims, and Moslem pilgrims,
+all of them dressed in what seemed to us the most fantastic manner.
+They were regular Eastern and dreadfully filthy, and they were all
+jabbering their various languages at the top of their voices. Mr.
+Stanley told us that as Easter draws near, the steamers are crammed
+with these pilgrims, on their way to the different shrines and holy
+places. They come from great distances, and go through wonderful
+fatigue, and spend large sums of money to obtain, as they vainly hope,
+forgiveness of sin.
+
+"I often think," Mr. Stanley said, "that their earnestness puts us to
+shame."
+
+"Yes," said Evelyn, as she watched a fresh detachment come on board,
+"and do you not long to tell them how sin can really be forgiven?"
+
+"I do indeed," said Mr. Stanley; "but, Miss Trafford, have you any idea
+what a difficult matter that would be? How many different languages
+do you think I should have to learn before I could speak to all these
+pilgrims?"
+
+We thought perhaps five or six would be necessary, but Mr. Stanley told
+us, to our astonishment, that he had just had a conversation with a
+gentleman who had taken the trouble to go round the vessel in order to
+find out what were the different nationalities of the people on board,
+and he had made the discovery that there were men from no fewer than
+thirty different nations in that one steamer.
+
+
+We sailed from Port Said on Sunday evening, and came in sight of Jaffa
+at six o'clock the next morning. We were up very early, for we were
+longing to get our first view of Palestine. It was a lovely morning;
+the sea was as smooth as a mill-pond, and the view was exceedingly
+beautiful, as the sun rose behind the Judean hills.
+
+Jaffa looked a very pretty place as we saw it from the deck of the
+steamer, with its white houses overlooking the blue Mediterranean, a
+green circle of orange trees round it, and the quiet hills beyond.
+
+But we had little time to realise the fact that we were now gazing
+at the very spot from which Jonah took ship for Tarshish, and where
+Peter lodged and saw that wondrous vision, and where Dorcas lived
+and made garments for the poor, in those far-off Bible days. We had
+very little time for thought of any kind, for, as soon as we came in
+sight of Joppa, numberless boats came out to meet us, as they had done
+at Alexandria, and after the usual tumult we secured one, and were
+rowed to the shore, which was a mile and a half away. This is not at
+all a safe undertaking in stormy weather, for the only entrance to
+the harbour is a very narrow opening between most dangerous rocks.
+The harbour of Joppa is a natural one, and has never been improved
+since the time of Solomon, when the timber, which Hiram out down in
+the Lebanon, must have been brought to land through this very passage
+between the rocks.
+
+When we drew near the shore we saw crowds of Arabs waiting for us,
+screaming and fighting and wrestling in savage earnestness. They seemed
+ready to tear us in pieces rather than lose the chance of carrying
+our luggage to the hotel. It really was a terrible sight to those
+unaccustomed to Eastern vehemence. Evelyn was very much frightened and
+clung to her father, and even Sir William seemed agitated and alarmed.
+But Mr. Stanley's quiet voice reassured us.
+
+"Oh, it is nothing," he said; "you don't know what Arabs are yet;
+they always make a noise like this. It is nothing unusual, I assure
+you," he added, laughing, as he fought a passage for us through the
+howling crowd, and led the way to the little Custom House, which was
+already crowded with the travellers who had arrived before us. We had,
+therefore, to wait outside for some time; but Mr. Stanley kept the
+Arabs who had followed us at bay, and gave Evelyn a camp-stool to sit
+upon, for she was looking faint and tired, and the heat, even at that
+early hour, seemed to us to be very great.
+
+At last the Turkish officer was at liberty to receive the "baksheesh,"
+which Mr. Stanley had ready for him. He passed our boxes without
+opening them, and we were allowed to proceed to the hotel.
+
+It was a tiring walk, for the streets of Jaffa are covered with hot,
+burning sand, in which your feet sink every step you take. They are
+very narrow, and every now and then we looked round to find ourselves
+nearly knocked down by a huge camel, with boxes on its back, which had
+come noiselessly behind us over the soft sand; or a mule, laden with
+luggage, and rushing frantically along, was determined to pass us, and
+pushed its way through our midst in the most resolute manner.
+
+Mr. Stanley had advised us to go as far as Ramleh that day, as it is
+forty miles' ride from Jaffa to Jerusalem, and he thought we should be
+too tired if we went so far in one day. Accordingly that afternoon, he
+hired horses for us, and we mounted for our first ride in Palestine.
+
+It was no easy matter guiding our horses through the crowds of Arabs,
+the strings of camels and mules, and the heaps of filth, in the streets
+of Jaffa. We were glad to leave the town and get into the road, which
+took us through one of the orange groves by which Jaffa is surrounded.
+Everything looked so strange and Eastern, and the scent of the oranges
+was delicious. We passed through the Plain of Sharon, and at about five
+o'clock in the evening we reached Ramleh, after rather more than four
+hours' ride.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+JERUSALEM.
+
+[Illustration] THERE are some moments in our lives which it is
+impossible for us to describe. We never forget them, and the impression
+which they leave behind never fades from our memories; but still when
+we try to speak of them to others, even to those whom we love best,
+words fail us, and seem too weak to express what we mean.
+
+I will not, therefore, attempt to describe what was the rush of feeling
+which passed through my heart when, for the first time, I came in sight
+of Jerusalem. Others who have had a like privilege will understand what
+I felt, as Mr. Stanley made us pull up our horses on the top of a hill,
+about half a mile from the city gate, and said to us, "Well, what do
+you think of Jerusalem?"
+
+Neither Evelyn nor I could answer him. Sir William had many questions
+to ask about the houses and buildings on the road leading to the Jaffa
+Gate, but we scarcely heard what they were saying. At that moment, it
+seemed to us a matter of very small importance which was the Austrian
+consul's house; which was the Pacha's country residence; which was
+the German deaconesses' school; and which were the Russian church and
+convent. All these details interested us afterwards, when we were more
+familiar with Jerusalem; but at that moment, when we were able, for the
+first time in our lives, to say "This is Jerusalem!" we had neither
+time nor thought to spare for any interest in the modern buildings of
+the city.
+
+We rode on in silence, seeing, as if in a dream, the crowds of people
+taking their evening walk on the Jaffa road—people of numerous nations,
+and from every quarter of the globe, dressed in costumes as varied as
+the colours of the rainbow.
+
+Mr. Stanley rode up close beside me as we went through the Jaffa Gate,
+and said, in a low voice, "I know just how you are feeling, Miss
+Lindsay; it is, indeed, a wonderful moment in one's life!"
+
+We had some difficulty in getting through the gate, for a number of
+camels and mules were coming out of the city at the time, heavily laden
+with baggage. Then we passed the Tower of David, and turned down a
+quiet street, where stood the hotel in which Mr. Stanley had secured
+rooms for us. He took leave of us here, as he was going to lodge at the
+Latin Convent, which was in another part of the city, and where he had
+stayed when he was last in Jerusalem.
+
+The landlady of the hotel was a Scotch woman, and was very kind and
+attentive. Our rooms were beautifully clean, with white stone floors,
+white walls, white curtains before the windows, and white coverings on
+the beds.
+
+We did not sleep much that night. The fatigue and excitement which we
+had gone through the day before would have been sufficient to keep
+us awake; but even had we felt disposed to sleep, I do not think we
+should have been able to do so, for the noises in the city, during the
+night, were so many and so varied, that it seemed to us that, under any
+circumstances, sleep would be very difficult to obtain. Our landlady
+had told us that she hoped we should not be alarmed at any sound we
+might hear in the night, for a wedding was going on in a house close
+by, and the festivities would be kept up until the morning.
+
+Accordingly, for many hours we were kept awake by the noise of music
+and singing, by the beating of little drums, and by the shouts and
+laughter of the wedding party. But as morning dawned the wedding
+guests grew quieter, and we hoped to be able to sleep. Now, however,
+we were disturbed by the howling and barking of the street dogs, which
+at times was quite deafening. These dogs have no owners, but act as
+the scavengers of the city, eating anything they can find amongst the
+refuse and dirt of the streets. Each dog has his appointed place in
+the city, and there seems to be a code of honour amongst them, that no
+dog is to go into any other quarter of the city except that in which
+he was born and bred, and in which he ordinarily gets his livelihood.
+Immediately a strange dog from another part of Jerusalem makes his
+appearance he is driven away by the united efforts of all the dogs in
+the street which he has invaded, with enough noise to awaken the whole
+city.
+
+Poor Evelyn tossed about very wearily through the night, and I was
+really afraid that she would be ill again. But her merry spirits seemed
+to keep her up, for she found amusement in all our little discomforts,
+and made me laugh in spite of myself many times during that long,
+tiring night.
+
+At length a lull came in the barking of the dogs; but now several bells
+began to ring in the Greek and Latin convents of the city, and then we
+heard the shouts of muleteers and camel-drivers, and the tinkling of
+the mule-bells, as different parties of people set off in the cool of
+the morning for Joppa, or some of the distant villages.
+
+We got up at eight o'clock tired and unrefreshed. Sir William had slept
+much better, and was in good spirits, and very anxious to go out and
+explore Jerusalem. We needed no dragoman to take us to the various
+places of interest, for Mr. Stanley, who knew his way about the city as
+well as any of the inhabitants did, was very kind, and anxious to help
+us.
+
+I fancied that it was something more than ordinary kindness which
+made him always so willing to make one of our party. I could not help
+thinking that he was attracted by my dear Evelyn's sweet face and
+winning ways. Who could help loving her? I said to myself, as I thought
+the matter over a hundred times during our first day in Jerusalem. I
+noticed, I could not help noticing, how diligently he kept near us, and
+how pleased he seemed that Sir William thankfully accepted his offer to
+be our guide whilst we stayed in the Holy City.
+
+I shall never forget my first walk through the streets of Jerusalem. We
+grew so familiar, in a few weeks' time, with all the Eastern sights and
+sounds that we scarcely noticed them, but that morning everything was
+strange and fresh and full of interest.
+
+We went first across an open square in front of the Tower of David,
+where a vegetable market was being held; and chickens and eggs, oranges
+and lemons, were being exhibited for sale by the women from the
+villages round Jerusalem, and were being bargained for and bought by
+the townspeople.
+
+Mr. Stanley called our attention to the enormous cauliflowers, so large
+that one of them was sufficient to form the load of a small donkey, and
+so heavy that neither Evelyn nor I could lift them from the ground. We
+were curious to know how large the pans were in which they were boiled,
+but Mr. Stanley told us they are always cut in pieces before boiling,
+and that one cauliflower is sufficient to feed a family for a whole day.
+
+There was so much noise and confusion in this market-place that it was
+difficult to keep up conversation. No business transaction is done in
+Jerusalem without a dispute, so fierce that, if it occurred in England,
+we should expect it to end in blows. The salesman asks three times as
+much for his goods as he expects to receive; and the buyer offers a
+third of what he knows he will eventually have to give; and then they
+begin to dispute, and wrangle, and scream, and shout, and swear, and
+stamp their feet, and shake their fists, as if the affairs of a whole
+nation depended upon it. We saw one such business transaction going on
+in a street through which we passed.
+
+[Illustration: IN JERUSALEM.]
+
+"What is the matter here?" said Sir William, as he tried to make
+his way through an angry, excited crowd, who were screaming and
+gesticulating in the most alarming manner, as they clustered round a
+camel and a camel driver.
+
+"Oh, nothing at all!" said Mr. Stanley, laughing, as he listened to
+what they were saying. "That man in the centre of the crowd is buying
+a load of charcoal, and he and the owner of the charcoal are disputing
+about a piastre, more or less, which in English money is about equal to
+twopence."
+
+"But who are all these other people?" said Sir William. "They cannot
+all have an interest in this one load of charcoal."
+
+"Oh no," said Mr. Stanley; "but they happened to be passing at the
+time, and they have stopped to give their opinion, some taking the part
+of the buyer and some of the seller, and all of them adding to the
+general confusion by shouting and swearing and yelling at the highest
+pitch of their voices."
+
+We were glad to get out of the noisy crowd, and to descend a flight of
+steps in the narrow street.
+
+"Do you mind coming in here for a minute?" said Mr. Stanley, as he
+stopped before a clean-looking building, and opened a small door in the
+wall.
+
+We followed him into a large room, and there we saw a very interesting
+sight. All round the room were Jewesses, in their picturesque dresses,
+sitting on mats on the floor. They were busily engaged with various
+kinds of needlework; and an English lady was going about amongst them,
+superintending their work, and teaching them anything which they did
+not know. We were much interested in all she told us of these poor
+women—they are learning by degrees to make their wretched homes bright
+and comfortable, and to make garments for their husbands and children.
+Above all, they are learning to love the Word of God, which is read
+aloud to them as they work, and which is quite a new book to them, for
+these poor Jerusalem Jewesses know as little of their Old Testament
+Scriptures as they do of the New Testament. We gave them several orders
+for various kinds of lace, which they make most beautifully; and Sir
+William left a donation towards their savings bank, which is doing much
+good amongst these poor mothers, encouraging them to lay by part of the
+money which they earn, as a fund from which they can draw in times of
+sickness or distress.
+
+Then we passed from that room into another part of the building, which
+is used as a girls' school for Jewish children; and it was indeed
+pleasant to see their bright happy faces, and to hear their intelligent
+answers to the questions put to them. Mr. Stanley told us afterwards
+that there is a good work being done in this mission school—for the
+children are carefully and prayerfully taught, and, as the mothers
+of the next generation, will undoubtedly pave the way for missionary
+effort among their nation. The lady who manages the school very kindly
+took us to see all the different classes, and we were especially
+interested in a large class of little Spanish Jewesses, natives of
+Jerusalem, who are being taught in their own language, and who are
+learning, little by little and step by step, to know and to love that
+Saviour whom their nation have rejected.
+
+We left the school, hoping to visit it again another day, and were
+turning round a corner, when Mr. Stanley stopped us, and showed us some
+curious old stones in the wall of the street. The stones evidently
+formed part of an old archway; and Mr. Stanley told us that it was now
+thought to be the most ancient place in all Jerusalem, being supposed,
+by those who have studied the matter, to have been part of the old city
+of Jebus, where the Jebusites lived before David conquered them, and
+turned their old fortress of Jebus into Jerusalem, the City of David.
+
+As we turned into the large bazaar in one of the principal streets in
+Jerusalem we had great difficulty in getting on, so narrow was the
+street, and so crowded with camels, donkeys, mules, and people standing
+before each of the curious little shops, bargaining with the shopman
+inside. We were making our way slowly down the street, when I heard a
+well-known voice behind us, saying:
+
+"Miss Trafford! This is a surprise!"
+
+Evelyn and I turned round, and I said involuntarily: "Claude! Where
+have you come from?"
+
+He told us that he and Alice had been spending a month in Cairo, and
+had now come to see Palestine. "But there does not seem to be much to
+see here," he said; "it is a wretched place after Cairo!"
+
+"How long have you been here, may I ask?" said Mr. Stanley.
+
+"Just two days now," said Claude; "we think of moving on again
+to-morrow."
+
+"Then you will excuse my saying that you have not begun to see
+Jerusalem yet," said Mr. Stanley, with the least possible touch of
+sarcasm in his voice.
+
+"Oh, I don't know!" said Claude. "It seems a stupid place. I can't
+think why so many people come here. But won't you come and see Alice?"
+he said, turning to Evelyn. "She will be delighted to see you."
+
+"By the by, I met a friend of yours in Cairo, Miss Trafford," said
+Claude, as we walked in the direction of the Damascus Gate, near which
+their tents were pitched.
+
+"A friend of mine!" said Evelyn, colouring. "Whom do you mean?"
+
+She thought, and I thought too, that he must have met Donald Trafford;
+and Evelyn was considerably relieved by his answer.
+
+"It was Lord Moreton; he was there with a party of his friends, staying
+in the same hotel that we were. They were going up the Nile. He told me
+that you were travelling in the East, but the East is a wide term, and
+I did not expect that we should meet."
+
+"But why do you call Lord Moreton a friend of mine?" said Evelyn,
+laughing, though her father looked at her reprovingly.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Miss Trafford," said Claude; "I thought he was a
+great friend of yours. I assure you, he talked so much of you and Sir
+William in the short time that we were together, that I thought—"
+
+But Claude did not tell us what he thought, for we had to separate
+at that moment to let a string of laden camels pass by, and the
+conversation took another turn when we were able to walk together again.
+
+Claude and his wife were travelling with a small party under the
+escort of a dragoman, and their tents were pitched in the olive grove
+just outside the northern gate of the city. Alice was very glad to
+see us, and she, Evelyn, and I had a long talk together as we sat in
+patriarchal fashion at our tent door, whilst the gentlemen paced about
+amongst the olive trees, talking to the dragoman, and referring to
+their guidebooks.
+
+"Is it not strange to be in Jerusalem, Alice?" said Evelyn. "I feel as
+if I were dreaming."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Alice, laughing. "I have not been much
+impressed by it. You see, we have become quite accustomed now to
+Eastern manners and customs—we saw plenty of them in Cairo; and as for
+the old ruins and buildings here, they are not nearly so ancient as the
+Pyramids. And there is really very little to be seen, after all, except
+by those people who believe the lies that are told them about the holy
+sepulchre, and the tomb of the Virgin, and the manger at Bethlehem. Why
+actually, in one street, in quite a new wall, our dragoman pointed out
+to us a stone which is believed to be the stone that 'would have cried
+out' if the children had held their peace! Such nonsense! I have no
+patience with it!" said Alice, scornfully.
+
+"Oh yes," said Evelyn, "I quite agree with you about all those absurd
+tales. I would not walk a hundred yards to see one of those wonderful
+shrines; but, after all, this is Jerusalem, and it was here," she added
+in a lower voice, "that our Lord walked, and preached, and died, and
+was buried, and rose again!"
+
+"Oh yes, of course," said Alice, carelessly, as if that fact was but of
+small importance to her.
+
+"And if we really love Him," said Evelyn, "if He is dearer to us than
+any one else, don't you think we must look upon Jerusalem, and those
+places He lived in, with a very strange and wonderful feeling?"
+
+Alice looked at Evelyn in astonishment; she had never heard her speak
+in that way before, and had no idea how much Evelyn was changed since
+she had seen her last. She made no answer, and I think would have
+turned the conversation to some other subject if Evelyn had not spoken
+first.
+
+"You look surprised, Alice," she said; "you did not expect me to say
+that, did you?"
+
+"No, indeed," said Alice, laughing; "I thought that both you and I were
+quite free from all sentimental nonsense. I am afraid Miss Lindsay has
+been talking you over to her way of thinking."
+
+"Is it nonsense?" said Evelyn, gravely, passing over Alice's last
+words. "Because if it is not nonsense, surely it is a great reality!"
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Alice, lightly; "Claude says the greater part
+of religion is nonsense, and I suppose he ought to know; he has studied
+the matter, and I have not."
+
+"Oh, Alice," said Evelyn, with tears in her eyes, "if you only knew how
+very, very happy I have been lately! I never knew before that it was
+possible to be as happy as I am now!"
+
+"That may be," said Alice, "and I am not happy. Sometimes I am
+miserable," she said, bitterly, with that grave, sad expression that
+I had seen on her face once before; "but still I cannot help agreeing
+with Claude, that it is better not to be comforted at all, than to get
+comfort out of a lie."
+
+"Oh yes," I said, "Mr. Ellis is quite right in that; but the whole
+question turns on this: Is the Bible Satan's lie, or God's truth? It
+must surely be either the one or the other."
+
+"Well," said Alice, lightly, "it is too hot to enter into a theological
+discussion. I will call the dragoman and get him to send us some
+lemonade: our cook makes it splendidly."
+
+"Poor Alice!" said Evelyn, when we were left alone in the tent.
+
+"Yes," I said, "she is very much to be pitied, for she is not
+comfortable in her unbelief; she has doubts even about her own
+doubting."
+
+Alice came back to tell us that the gentlemen had planned a ride to the
+Mount of Olives, and the dragoman had gone to hire horses for the whole
+party, so that we might start together from the Damascus Gate as soon
+as it began to be a little cooler.
+
+Meanwhile Mr. Stanley guided us to our hotel. We went back a different
+way, keeping outside the city, till we reached the Jaffa Gate. Sir
+William and I walked first, and Mr. Stanley and Evelyn followed; but as
+Sir William was reading his guidebook, which he kept open in his hand
+and consulted as he walked along, I had much time for thought, and once
+or twice I could not help overhearing the conversation which was going
+on behind me.
+
+"So you know Lord Moreton, Miss Trafford?" I heard Mr. Stanley say.
+
+"Yes; papa knows him very well, and he likes him very much," said
+Evelyn, laughing.
+
+"And you do not?" said Mr. Stanley, gravely.
+
+"Oh, I don't dislike him," said Evelyn; "only I think him very stupid
+and uninteresting."
+
+I thought Sir William must have heard this remark; but if he heard it
+he took no notice of it, but appeared to be deep in his book.
+
+"Lord Moreton stupid! Lord Moreton uninteresting!" repeated Mr.
+Stanley. "Then excuse my saying, Miss Trafford, that if that is your
+opinion, I am sure you do not know Lord Moreton: no one who really knew
+him would ever come to such a conclusion."
+
+Mr. Stanley had spoken rather warmly, and Evelyn said in an apologetic
+tone: "I am very sorry, Mr. Stanley. I see Lord Moreton is a friend of
+yours; I did not know you knew him at all."
+
+"Yes," he said, smiling, "we were college friends, and have been like
+brothers ever since. I think I may say that I know Lord Moreton better
+than any one else knows him, and the more I know him, so much the more
+I respect him and love him."
+
+"He always seems to me to be so shy and awkward," said Evelyn.
+
+"Yes, so he is with strangers," said Mr. Stanley; "he is a highly
+nervous man; it is his infirmity, and he knows it; but if he can only
+shake off his nervousness, he is quite another man. I wish you could
+have heard him address a meeting of undergraduates the other day, you
+would not have believed it was the same man."
+
+"Addressing them! On what subject?" asked Evelyn, now more astonished
+than ever.
+
+"Oh, about personal religion. Lord Moreton has a wonderful power with
+young men. He is not at all nervous when speaking to them. It is you
+ladies that make him so shy," said Mr. Stanley, laughing; "you are such
+formidable beings!"
+
+"Well, I am surprised!" said Evelyn. "I could not have believed it, if
+you had not told me. And he is a real Christian? I am very glad to hear
+it."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Stanley, "he is a man who lives very near to his God;
+and his one desire and aim is to bring all under his influence to the
+Saviour. Indeed," he added, in a lower voice, "if it had not been for
+Lord Moreton, Miss Trafford, I should have been to this day a man of
+the world; it was his words and his example which first made me decide
+for Christ."
+
+I could hear no more, for we had reached the Jaffa Gate, and had passed
+into the noisy square in front of the Tower of David.
+
+Whether Sir William had overheard the conversation I did not know. He
+looked very pleased and half amused as it was going on; but perhaps he
+may have been reading some interesting anecdote in his guidebook.
+
+Mr. Stanley left us at the Tower of David, and we went to the hotel to
+rest until the evening.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+MY OLIVE-LEAVES.
+
+[Illustration] IT was still very hot when we started from the Damascus
+Gate and rode in the direction of the Mount of Olives.
+
+"What a wretched little hillock it is!" said Claude, as we drew near to
+it. "It does not deserve the name of hill, much less of mountain."
+
+But to most of us, this "wretched little hillock" was the most sacred
+spot on earth. There was no doubt about its identity; "the mountain
+on the east side of the city" could not be mistaken for any other. No
+vain superstition, no improbable legend had fixed upon this hill as the
+place where our Lord's feet had so often trod. The hand of time, and
+the cruel devastations of war, which had laid low the beautiful Temple,
+and made Jerusalem a heap of ruins, had not been able to obliterate
+this spot, nor to make us doubtful as to whether it were indeed the
+same Mount of Olives of which we had read so often in the Gospels.
+
+We crossed the Valley of Jehoshaphat, passed the wall of the so-called
+Gethsemane, and began to ascend one of the steep stony paths which led
+across the mountain to Bethany.
+
+"Do you know, Miss Lindsay," said Mr. Stanley, "that these paths, on
+the hillsides, are probably less changed than anything in the whole
+country? They must have gone in the same direction years ago, and this
+is, without doubt, the very road our Lord's feet so often trod to and
+from the city on His way to Martha's house."
+
+I felt as if it were almost too sacred ground. I did not answer him,
+for I could not have done so without tears. So we rode on in silence, a
+little way behind the others, and Evelyn told me afterwards she would
+have been very thankful to have been with us, for Claude and Alice were
+laughing and talking the whole way, telling amusing stories of things
+and people in England, and taking little or no notice of the scenes and
+places around them. The Mount of Olives was nothing to them!
+
+Mr. Stanley rode forward as we came to a turn in the road on the
+shoulder of the hill, and made them all stop and look round at the
+city: for it is at this place that, when coming from Bethany, Jerusalem
+first comes in sight, and there, he said, must have been the very spot
+on which our Lord stood when "He beheld the city and wept over it."
+
+Evelyn came close to me and whispered, "Oh, May, I cannot help it, the
+tears will come; let us go a little way off by ourselves; Claude and
+Alice will chatter so."
+
+We got off our horses, and left them with the dragoman, and went a
+short distance from the road to a clump of olive trees; and here we
+stood, looking down upon the city. If our Lord wept as He gazed on it
+in its glory, because He saw, in the far distance, the shadow of ruin
+and desolation creeping towards it, how much more should we weep, who
+saw the once beloved city, the joy of the whole earth, made a very
+curse amongst men!
+
+"Look forward as well as backward," said Mr. Stanley's voice behind us.
+
+"Forward to what?" Evelyn asked.
+
+"Forward to that day when the Lord will no longer weep over Jerusalem,
+but will rejoice over her. Do you remember that passage in Isaiah lxv.:
+
+   "'Be ye glad and rejoice for ever in that which I create: for, behold,
+I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy. And I will
+rejoice in Jerusalem, and joy in My people: and the voice of weeping
+shall be no more heard in her, nor the voice of crying.'
+
+"You see the Lord will rejoice in Jerusalem Himself, and call upon us
+to rejoice with Him; and surely those who have been one with Him in His
+sorrow will be the ones whom He will call to rejoice with Him in His
+joy."
+
+"Doesn't it remind you of the shepherd's joy," I said, "as he brought
+back his lost sheep, rejoicing himself, and calling together his
+friends, saying to them,—
+
+   "'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost'?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Stanley; "I never thought of that; the two
+passages are wonderfully alike."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Stanley," said Evelyn, as he turned round, "must we go? It is
+so delightful to be here."
+
+"I think we must come again another day, by ourselves," said Mr.
+Stanley, in a whisper, "your friends are rather impatient to be moving;
+they find very little to interest them on the Mount of Olives."
+
+"I am not surprised," said Evelyn; "half the Bible they do not believe
+in, and the other half they do not care for; but, oh dear, I do wish
+they had not come with us; I did not think we should feel it so much."
+
+Evelyn went on, reluctantly, to join her father. Mr. Stanley stayed
+behind a moment, and gathered a spray of olive-leaves, which he gave to
+me, and asked me to keep it, "as a remembrance of the place, and of our
+coming here together." I have that spray of olive-leaves now, and shall
+keep it as long as I live.
+
+So we went on to Bethany. The road must have taken the same course in
+our Lord's time, for there is a deep valley, and the road runs at its
+head. And it must have looked just the same then, with the same wild
+flowers growing by the wayside, the same blue mountains of Moab in
+front, and the same green valley beneath. Mr. Stanley pointed out to me
+some fig trees, growing close to the road, just as they did when the
+Saviour, hungry with His long walk from Bethany, searched amongst the
+loaves for fruit to refresh him on the way. I had had no idea before
+that it was so far from Jerusalem to Bethany; He must have been very
+weary as He went backwards and forwards every day of that last, sad
+week of His life on earth. Only once do we read of Him riding; it was
+all on foot, in the weariness and heat of the day, with the same sun
+beating on His head as was shining on us at that very moment.
+
+And then, as I rode at Mr. Stanley's side, he reminded me of that last
+walk, when Jesus led His disciples out as far as to Bethany, and we
+wondered if, as they trod this road, they knew that He was so soon to
+leave them, and that it was the last walk that they would take with
+Him. If so, surely they must have been very sorrowful, surely their
+hearts must have been so full of the parting with Him that they must
+have lost sight, for a little time, of the blessing that parting was to
+bring to them, and the realisation of which was so soon to make them
+return, by that very road, to Jerusalem, "with great joy, praising and
+blessing God."
+
+I never enjoyed anything so much as that ride to Bethany; it was very
+quiet and peaceful, for Sir William and Claude were some way in front
+with the dragoman, and Evelyn, who rode next with Alice, was not much
+inclined for conversation, and kept her laughing companion tolerably
+still, so that we were not interrupted in our quiet talk together.
+
+Then we came to Bethany, a miserable, wretched, dirty village, and here
+a troop of squalid Arabs came out of their houses to look at us, and to
+beg of us, and a number of noisy dogs barked, and howled, and jumped
+up at our horses' heads, and we were very glad to get as quickly as
+possible out of the narrow, filthy street, and gradually to ascend the
+eastern side of the Mount of Olives.
+
+"I think the Ascension must have taken place somewhere here," said
+Mr. Stanley; "it would be just far enough away from the noise of the
+village, and such a likely place for them to come to."
+
+A lovely view was spread out before us; the village of Bethany lay at
+our feet, and then there stretched far away the great wilderness of
+Judea, and, beyond it, in the far distance, the fertile plain of the
+Jordan, like a line of silver running into the deep blue Dead Sea. Then
+the view was shut in by the grand Moab mountains, standing out like a
+wall against the sky.
+
+"This is very fine!" said Claude, as we stood looking at it. "This is
+well worth coming to see!"
+
+It was the same view that Lot had gazed on; yet where were the cities
+of the plain which he had seen in their glory?
+
+Then we crossed over the top of the mountain, and began to descend
+the western side, by the very path which David took when fleeing from
+Absalom, when we read, he climbed up the ascent barefoot, and with his
+head covered, weeping, as he went, at the ingratitude and cruelty of
+his son.
+
+We had a different view now, and yet a very beautiful one. The city of
+Jerusalem was lying at our feet, nestling amongst the hills.
+
+"'As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round
+about His people from henceforth even for ever,'" said Mr. Stanley to
+Evelyn and to me, as he rode between us.
+
+"If we could only remember that," said Evelyn, "how happy it would make
+us!"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Stanley, "it would indeed; but is it not a comfort to
+know that He is round us, whether we remember it or not? The mountains
+do not remove, even though the clouds hide them from our sight."
+
+"I shall never forget this ride," said Evelyn, after a pause.
+
+"I am sure I shall never forget it!" said Mr. Stanley.
+
+"But I thought—" said Evelyn.
+
+"What did you think, Miss Trafford?"
+
+"I thought that it would not seem quite the same to you as it does to
+us. I thought you would have become so accustomed to it that you would
+not enjoy it so much."
+
+"Oh, I never feel 'that' about the Mount of Olives," said Mr. Stanley;
+"other places in Jerusalem, I grant, have somewhat lost their
+sacredness in my eyes, but the Mount of Olives always seems holy
+ground. I think we can never forget that this was the last place our
+Lord's feet touched before He left us, and that it will be the very
+first place they will touch when He comes again; for 'His feet shall
+stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, which is before Jerusalem
+on the east.'
+
+"And then," he added, after a pause, "I have enjoyed it specially
+to-day."
+
+
+Claude and Alice left Jerusalem the next morning, to continue their
+journey through Samaria and Galilee; and we were not sorry to be
+alone when we visited the other deeply interesting places in and near
+Jerusalem.
+
+Sight-seeing in Palestine is, in this respect, perfectly different from
+sight-seeing in other places; unless there is some communion of heart
+between you and those who are with you, unless they love the Book and
+the Name which make every place around you so sacred, their remarks,
+and indeed the whole tone of their conversation, cannot fail to jar
+upon you, and to be somewhat trying and irksome to you.
+
+Alter they were gone, we thoroughly enjoyed our daily excursions in the
+city and its neighbourhood. Although Mr. Stanley was comparatively a
+stranger, still we had learnt to know him so well in those few weeks
+that he seemed more like an old and tried friend! He was a wonderful
+help to us in our exploration of the city, for not only did he know
+Jerusalem well himself, but he had, during his long stay there, made
+many friends among the residents in the city, who obtained for us
+admittance into several places which are closed to ordinary travellers.
+
+One of these, a German gentleman, was most kind in guiding us to
+several very interesting spots, and, amongst others, to Solomon's
+Quarry.
+
+"Would you like to see Solomon's Quarry?" said Mr. Stanley to Sir
+William, one day.
+
+"Solomon's Quarry!" repeated Sir William. "Where may that be, pray?"
+
+"It is underneath the city," said Mr. Stanley, "and is a most curious
+and interesting place. My friend, who will guide us through it, has
+been very active in its exploration, and he has made a splendid plan of
+the whole place; so that he knows every inch of the way."
+
+"But is it really Solomon's Quarry?" said Sir William, incredulously.
+
+"Probably so; for it is evident that stone has been taken out of it for
+some very great building, and then you remember what is told us of the
+building of Solomon's Temple:
+
+   "'The House, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready
+before it was brought thither: so that there was neither hammer nor axe
+nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building.'
+
+"Now we have only to look at the stones which still remain of the wall
+which Solomon built round the Temple platform, to see that the stones
+he used were so enormous, that they could not have been brought from
+any great distance. In order to move them at all, the labour must have
+been immense, and it has always been a mystery how such huge blocks
+could be hewn from any rock within a short distance of the building, so
+that they could be easily moved to it, and yet be so far away that no
+sound of axe or hammer should be heard in the Temple itself."
+
+"I see," said Sir William; "and the discovery of this quarry explains
+the mystery, for the stones could be hewn and finished underground, and
+then brought to the surface, and put at once in their proper positions.
+How very interesting!"
+
+"But we have a still stronger reason," said Mr. Stanley, "for feeling
+sure that this is Solomon's Quarry, for there is no other place, in the
+whole country round, which shows signs of having been used as a quarry,
+from which stone could have been taken for any large building; and the
+stone in these underground quarries is, moreover, the very same kind of
+stone as we find in the Temple buildings."
+
+"How very, very interesting!" said Sir William. "When can we go there?"
+
+"I have arranged with my friend to meet us at the Damascus Gate
+to-morrow morning, if that will suit you," he added, turning to Evelyn.
+
+We had no engagement for the next day, so it was settled that Mr.
+Stanley should call for us at eleven o'clock.
+
+But when the morning came, poor Evelyn was not well enough to go. She
+had a slight attack of the ague fever, which is so common in Jerusalem,
+and the doctor advised her to keep quiet for a day or two, lest she
+should have it more severely. I wanted to stay with her, but she would
+not hear of it, and insisted on my leaving her in Clemence's care.
+
+"If you don't go, May," she said, "I shall never hear anything
+about it. Papa never can describe places; now don't be unkind and
+disobedient, but put on your hat and get ready." So, rather against my
+will, I set forth with the others.
+
+The gentleman who was our guide was most kind in explaining everything
+to us, and in giving us most varied and interesting information.
+
+"How were these quarries discovered?" Sir William asked.
+
+"In a very curious way," he said. "Not many years ago there was a lad
+shooting rock-pigeons outside the northern wall. He had a dog with him,
+and the dog suddenly disappeared. He had seen it last going behind an
+olive tree which grew at the bottom of the rock on which you see the
+wall is built. He went to look for the dog, and found on the face of
+the rock quite a small hole, so small that he could not get through
+it himself, though he heard his dog barking inside. So he came back
+into the city for help, and then the hole was made bigger, and they
+discovered this place."
+
+"How very curious!" said Sir William.
+
+"Here we are," said Mr. Stanley, "here is the hole; now, Miss Lindsay,
+are you ready to leave the sunshine behind?"
+
+We had brought candles with us, and we lighted them and began slowly to
+descend, crouching for some distance almost on our hands and knees, for
+there was not room to stand upright. But after we had gone thus for a
+few yards, we found ourselves in a large, rock-hewn cave, as spacious
+as an immense church, and from this point, passage after passage went
+in different directions.
+
+Our guide led the way and we followed; hall after hall, passage after
+passage, we explored; we went for nearly a mile underneath the streets
+of Jerusalem.
+
+"Can you picture the scene, 3,000 years ago," said Mr. Stanley to me,
+"when the place was full of Solomon's workmen? Look! Here are the marks
+of their tools in the stone, as fresh as ever. And do you see this?"
+he said, as he pointed to a little niche in the wall. "This is where
+the workman put his lamp whilst he was at work; you see even the black
+smoke which the flame left on the stone above is still here."
+
+"How very wonderful!" I said. "Oh, Mr. Stanley, it is an interesting
+place!"
+
+"Yes," he said, smiling, "I knew you would like it, that is why I
+wanted so much to come here; it is one of my favourite places, and I
+wanted you to see it. It is a great comfort to me, oftentimes, this
+deserted quarry."
+
+"How can it be a comfort to you?" I asked.
+
+"It is such a wonderful picture," he said.
+
+"A picture of what?"
+
+"Is not there a temple being built now?" he said, gently. "A far
+grander and more beautiful one than Solomon's—the temple in the
+Heavenly Jerusalem; you see now?"
+
+"Yes," I answered, "I think I do; but please tell me; I like to hear
+your thoughts about it, and why it comforts you."
+
+"Don't you think the dark, dismal quarry is like this world; it is not
+a very bright place, is it? And you and I both know what trouble is."
+
+"How did you know that I did, Mr. Stanley?"
+
+"I knew it by your face; I can read faces very well," he said, smiling;
+"but though we are both in the dark quarry now, we shall not always
+have to stay here—for God, the Master Builder, has hewn us from the
+rock, cut us away from old surroundings, and from the old nature. We
+are no longer a part of the old rock, but by God's grace have been
+taken out of it; do you see?"
+
+"You mean when we were converted?"
+
+"Yes, and it was a hard wrench at the time, was it not? But we can be
+thankful for the work of the crowbar now."
+
+"But we are still in the quarry," I said.
+
+"Yes, and why? Because the work is not done, we are not yet fit for
+the Temple—a rough stone would be a disfigurement to God's beautiful
+building—each stone must be cut, and chipped, and faced, and squared
+after it is hewn out of the rock. Our bad tempers, and habits, and
+unholy thoughts must all, by degrees, be done away with. It is a work
+of time and patience; and it is not always pleasant to feel the pick
+and the chisel at work on us, but it is such a comfort to know in whose
+Hand the tool is, and that He can make no mistakes."
+
+"What are the tools?" I asked.
+
+"Don't you think there are different tools for different kinds of
+work?" he said. "Look how many tools have been used here. There is the
+mark of a heavy crowbar, which has severed the block from the side
+of the rock. And look here at this stone which has been left on the
+ground, you can see the mark of the pick, with which the block was
+brought a little into shape. And here you can see the marks of the
+finer tools, the chisels, which were used to give the necessary finish
+to the stones."
+
+"And God's tools?" I said.
+
+"Are just as varied, are they not? A great trouble comes—a heavy
+blow like the great crowbar, and separates us from the world. But,
+after that, day by day, and hour by hour, God must work upon us with
+His finer tools—small vexations, little crosses, little losses, home
+troubles; all these, I think, are God's tools, making us ready for a
+place in the Temple. Don't you think it is a wonderful comfort to look
+upon worries and cares as God's tools?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "that is a nice thought."
+
+"And soon," said Mr. Stanley, "the work will be finished, and then we
+shall leave the dark quarry behind for ever, and be carried to our
+place in the sunshine and light of the glorious Temple above. So,
+you see, I was not wrong in saying that this deserted quarry was a
+comforting place; you will think of it sometimes, will you not?"
+
+"Indeed I shall," I said.
+
+"And next time a trouble comes which you cannot understand, and which
+seems so very hard to bear, just say to yourself, 'It is God's chisel
+at work upon me.'"
+
+I had much to tell Evelyn when I came back to the hotel, and much, very
+much, to treasure up in my own heart for use in days to come.
+
+Mr. Stanley got for me a piece of stone from the walls of the quarry,
+with the marks of the chisel upon it, and I put it carefully away, with
+my spray of olive-leaves.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+A MYSTERY.
+
+[Illustration] THE next morning Evelyn was much better. The fever had
+passed away, but she felt tired and exhausted, so she decided to keep
+quietly in her room until lunch time, as she was very anxious to join
+us in an expedition which Mr. Stanley had planned for that evening. We
+were to visit an old tomb, which had just been discovered on the road
+to Bethlehem, and in which Mr. Stanley's German friend, Mr. Schwarz,
+took a great interest. Mr. Schwarz would not be able to guide us
+there himself, as he was going away from Jerusalem for some weeks on
+business; but he very kindly promised that his daughter would show us
+the way to the tomb, as Mr. Stanley had never been there before.
+
+Evelyn was most anxious to go with us, so we arranged to start when the
+day began to grow cooler, for Mr. Schwarz said that, as it was not a
+long ride, we could easily be back before sunset.
+
+I was up very early that morning, and leaving Evelyn in bed, I went
+downstairs to write an account of our visit to Solomon's Quarry in a
+letter to my sister Maggie. Her aunts took great interest in hearing
+of all the places I was visiting, although they still predicted that I
+should not come back alive.
+
+I was busy with my letter, sitting at a little table in the window of
+our sitting-room, waiting till Sir William should come downstairs for
+breakfast, when the door opened and Mr. Stanley came in.
+
+"Oh, how lovely!" I exclaimed, as soon as I turned round.
+
+He had a pretty little basket in his hand, filled with maiden-hair
+ferns, scarlet anemones, and cyclamen.
+
+"Oh, how very beautiful, Mr. Stanley; where did you get them?"
+
+"I have been for an early walk in the Valley of Hinnom, and climbing
+about on the hills on either side. I am so glad you like them; I
+thought you would."
+
+"They are very lovely!" I said. "Evelyn will be charmed, she is so fond
+of flowers; I will put them in water, and take them upstairs to her.
+She is better to-day, Mr. Stanley."
+
+"I am glad of that," he said; "the fever soon passes away if care is
+taken. But I gathered these flowers for you—if you will have them."
+
+"Thank you, very much indeed," I said; "I did not know they were for
+me; it was very good of you."
+
+"I am so glad you like them," he said; "I could see you were fond of
+flowers the other day on the Mount of Olives. I must be going now;
+will you tell Sir William I will meet you at the Jaffa Gate, at four
+o'clock? There are several people I must see to-day about various
+things, so I am afraid I must leave you all to your own devices until
+evening. Good-bye, take care of yourself; I don't want you to have
+fever."
+
+He was half-way to the door when he turned back again.
+
+"There is a little piece of paper here, in the middle of the flowers,"
+he said; "that is for you, for no one else, remember. The verses are
+only written in pencil; I don't know whether you will be able to make
+them out. They are only about the flowers," he added, smiling; "you
+will not be angry, will you?"
+
+"Oh no," I said; and he was gone.
+
+I put the paper, which I found among the ferns, in my pocket, for
+a minute afterwards Sir William entered the room. I gave him Mr.
+Stanley's message, and he admired the flowers, and rang the bell for
+water that I might arrange them before they withered. I did not tell
+him that they were for me.
+
+After breakfast Sir William asked me to read aloud to him the leading
+articles in a copy of the "Times" which had arrived by the mail that
+morning, and so it was some time before I could find an opportunity to
+look at my paper.
+
+I opened it at last, as soon as I was alone, and read it more than once:
+
+          THE FLOWERS' MESSAGE.
+
+      We grew upon the very hills
+        Where Jesus used to stand;
+      We blossomed on the lonely paths
+        Of God's once Holy Land.
+
+      There is a city near our home—
+        A sad and ruined place—
+      For those who lived within her walls
+        Let slip the day of grace!
+
+      Yet beautiful in all the earth
+        Mount Zion used to be—
+      The city of the Heavenly King,
+        And Israel's glory she!
+
+      Now, filled with misery and sin,
+        Defiled by guilt and shame,
+      And trampled under foot by those
+        Of every creed and name.
+
+      Oh pray, then, for Jerusalem,
+        The city of our birth;
+      Oh shed a tear for her who was
+        The joy of all the earth.
+
+      The ancient promise holdeth good,
+        It hath not been reversed—
+     "Blessed is he who blesseth thee,
+        And he who hates is cursed."
+
+      So we from the Judean hills,
+        This simple message bring—
+     "Oh pray for poor Jerusalem,
+        The city of the King."
+
+   For M. L., from her friend HOWARD STANLEY.
+
+I looked forward very much to that evening ride, and four o'clock
+seemed as if it would never come.
+
+At last the horses arrived, and Sir William, Evelyn, and I mounted and
+rode to the Jaffa Gate.
+
+Mr. Stanley had not come, but Miss Schwarz was there waiting for us.
+We had been introduced to her the day before, so she came at once and
+spoke to us, and we rode up and down together, looking from time to
+time at the gate to see if Mr. Stanley were coming.
+
+"It is very extraordinary," said Sir William, "that he should be late!
+We have always found him such a very punctual man. Are you sure he said
+four o'clock, Miss Lindsay?"
+
+"Oh yes," I said, "quite sure. 'Four o'clock at the Jaffa Gate,' that
+was what he said."
+
+"Yes, he told me to be here at four o'clock," said Miss Schwarz; "he
+will come in a few minutes, I should think; shall we ride towards 'the
+big tree,' as we always call it? It is not really a very large tree;
+but you see we have no trees that deserve the name in Jerusalem, so it
+looks very big to us. It is only a little way, and Mr. Stanley will see
+us there, and we shall get some shade."
+
+"Very well," said Sir William; "you had better go there; I want you to
+keep out of the sun as much as possible, Evelyn, and I will wait at
+this corner and catch Mr. Stanley as he comes through the gate."
+
+So we rode down to the big tree, and Miss Schwarz told us how she
+used to come and play there with her little friends when she was a
+child, and how beautiful and green she thought it till she had been to
+Germany, and had seen the trees in Europe.
+
+We found Miss Schwarz a very pleasant companion, and the first few
+minutes passed away quite happily; but, as time went on, we began to
+wonder very much why Mr. Stanley did not appear.
+
+After about half an hour Sir William came slowly down the road to meet
+us.
+
+"I cannot see him," he said; "it is very strange! He must have
+forgotten it! I think I will go as far as the Latin Convent, and
+inquire for him."
+
+"I do not think he would forget it," I said.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Sir William, "young men often have short
+memories, and you said he was going to visit various friends this
+morning. I will just go and inquire for him. Will you ride up and down
+till I come back? I shall not be long."
+
+It was, however, some time before Sir William reappeared at the Jaffa
+Gate, and then he was alone; Mr. Stanley was not with him.
+
+"Well, papa," said. Evelyn, "did you find our runaway dragoman?"
+
+Sir William looked grave and perplexed.
+
+My heart beat very fast, for I felt sure that something was the matter.
+
+"I can't make it out," he said; "he has gone to Jaffa!"
+
+"Gone to Jaffa!" we all exclaimed together.
+
+"Yes," he said, "the porter tells me, he took a horse early this
+morning; it must have been soon after you saw him, Miss Lindsay,
+about ten o'clock the man said, and he went down to Jaffa. The porter
+thinks he was going back to England. I can't understand it; it is very
+strange!"
+
+"What can be the matter?" Evelyn said.
+
+"I cannot imagine," said Sir William; "I think he might have let us
+know. The porter said he did not even take his luggage, but left it to
+be sent after him by the next steamer. It seems there is a steamer that
+leaves Jaffa for Alexandria to-night, and I suppose he wanted to catch
+that."
+
+"Did not the man know why he left in such a hurry?" Evelyn asked.
+
+"No, he did not seem to know. I asked him if a telegram had arrived
+for Mr. Stanley, and he said he did not think so, he had not taken
+one in; but the man talked such extraordinary French that I could not
+understand him very well. I wonder Stanley did not let us know he was
+going; it was very thoughtless of him."
+
+"Perhaps he will write from Jaffa," Evelyn suggested.
+
+"Well, I hope so," said Sir William; "but I think he might have let us
+known before this afternoon, and not have kept us waiting here in the
+sun. I gave him credit for more thoughtfulness. It is a very strange
+thing; I do not like it at all. Well, what are we to do? Miss Schwarz,
+we ought not to keep you standing here; will it be too late to go to
+the tomb?"
+
+"Oh no," she said, "not at all; it is quite a short ride, we shall be
+back long before sunset. Shall we go at once?"
+
+"Yes, I think, perhaps, we had better go," said Sir William, with some
+hesitation.
+
+"You can talk Arabic, I suppose, Miss Schwarz, in case we need an
+interpreter?"
+
+"Oh yes," she said, laughing, "as well as an Arab. I could talk Arabic
+before I could talk German."
+
+So we set off for the tomb. But we were none of us in very good
+spirits. Sir William was complaining all the way of Mr. Stanley's bad
+behaviour to us, and Evelyn was defending him to the best of her power,
+and assuring her father that there was certain to be a letter from
+Jaffa.
+
+I am afraid that Miss Schwarz must have thought us very dull and
+uninteresting people. She was an exceedingly nice girl, just my own
+age, and, at any other time, I should so much have enjoyed my ride
+with her. But that afternoon I could not tell what was the matter with
+me, but it was an effort to talk. I roused myself, once or twice, to
+take an interest in the places and the people that we were passing on
+the green Bethlehem plain; but I found it very difficult, my thoughts
+seemed to be far away. I was ashamed of myself, and struggled against
+it, and asked Miss Schwarz many questions about the place to which we
+were going, and she took great pains to explain everything to us, and
+to make our ride pleasant and interesting to us. I hope she did not
+think us ungrateful.
+
+We went for some distance along the road to Bethlehem, and then we
+turned up amongst the mountains. It was a very wild, rough road, indeed
+after a time we had no road at all, but had to cross over ploughed
+fields and the shingle-covered hillsides. The view was splendid; a
+valley was beneath us, quite surrounded by hills, on the sides of which
+we could see the remains of many of the ancient terraces. It must,
+indeed, have been a lovely place when it was planted with trees; but
+the bare, sandy heights were very tiring to the eye, and had it not
+been for a few patches of green, and the scarlet anemones and yellow
+Bethlehem stars which were peeping up between the stones, the hillsides
+would have been very uninteresting and monotonous. In the distance we
+could see the blue waters of the Dead Sea, and the white limestone
+mountains of Quarantania.
+
+At last we reached a place where there were many ruins, the remains
+of an ancient village; there were several old wells, and stones with
+crosses carved upon them, which showed that they dated back to the
+times of the Crusaders. We passed through these ruins, and Miss Schwarz
+took us to the side of the hill, where the newly-discovered tomb was to
+be found.
+
+It seems that the Arabs, living in a village near, were ploughing on
+the hillside, and one of them moved a large stone out of the way of
+his plough. To his astonishment he saw that the stone had covered a
+deep, dark hole; he went down into this hole and found himself in a
+stone chamber, the masonry of which was quite perfect. Another entrance
+had been afterwards made into the tomb, and through this Miss Schwarz
+led us. She told us that her father thinks it was a burying-place
+for Christians in the fifth or sixth century, so it is not very old
+compared with most of the places in Jerusalem, but it is most curious
+and interesting. There are five stone steps leading down to the door
+of the tomb, and the door itself is made of one block of stone, and is
+still on its hinges, and moves backwards and forwards most easily.
+
+All round the chamber were places cut out of the stone for the coffins
+to lie in—there were twelve of these in the principal room, but two
+other smaller chambers, leading out of the first one, contained more
+graves; these, however, had not been fully opened out when we were
+there. A large stone was at the mouth of each grave when it was
+discovered, and the Arabs had torn these away with the greatest haste,
+hoping to find some treasure buried with the dead. But though they
+opened every grave, they found inside nothing but dust.
+
+We were just peeping into one of the further chambers, and trying
+to count the number of graves in it, when we heard a great noise
+outside—shouting, and yelling, and jabbering, and, to our great alarm
+and dismay, a number of Arabs rushed into the tomb, shaking their fists
+at us, and screaming at the top of their voices. Sir William was very
+much agitated and frightened, for it was a wild and lonely place, far
+out of the reach of any European building or any public road.
+
+We scrambled out as quickly as we could, followed closely by the
+Arabs. Miss Schwarz was haranguing them in Arabic, but as we could
+not understand either what they were saying to her or she was saying
+to them, we were very much alarmed indeed, and felt sure that they
+intended to rob us, or even to murder us.
+
+When we came out of the tomb we were still more terrified, for we saw
+that some of the Arabs had seized our horses, which we had tied to a
+tree near, and were preparing to lead them away.
+
+"Oh dear, I wish we had never come!" said Sir William. "What shall we
+do? If I could only talk to these fellows! Don't be frightened, Evelyn
+darling. What do they want, Miss Schwarz? What do you think had better
+be done?"
+
+"I think they only want money," she said, turning away from the Arabs,
+who were shaking their fists at her most fiercely. "I will see what
+can be done. They say we have insulted the sheik of the village by
+entering the tomb without leave, and of course they threaten all sorts
+of dreadful things. But I will manage them; don't be alarmed! Have you
+any money with you, Sir William?"
+
+"Yes, a little," he said, "not very much. How much will they want?"
+
+"Oh, they shall not have very much," she said. "Have you a mejedie? It
+is a large Turkish coin—larger than half a crown; it is worth about
+three and sixpence."
+
+"Yes, I think I have," he said; "I will look."
+
+"No, not now, please," she said; "wait a minute or two."
+
+So she had another long conversation with the Arabs, and then, to our
+astonishment, they brought up our horses, and helped us to mount in
+the most gallant manner. Then, when we were quite ready to start, Miss
+Schwarz turned to Sir William.
+
+"They may have the mejedie now," she said; "if you will give it to me,
+I will hand it to the sheik, and he will divide it amongst them."
+
+For they were all holding out their hands greedily to Sir William to
+receive the coin.
+
+"Now it is all right," she said; "let us ride on quickly."
+
+"You are a splendid dragoman, Miss Schwarz!" said Sir William. "How did
+you manage them so well?"
+
+"Oh, I threatened them with the English consul, and the German consul,
+and with the Pacha, and with all sorts of other authorities," she said,
+laughing. "I knew they would not dare to hurt us; they would never hear
+the last of it if they did. And, besides, the sheik knows my father
+well, and as soon as I mentioned his name they became very civil. I
+hope you did not mind giving them the mejedie, Sir William; but I
+promised them a little reward if they were good."
+
+"Oh, not at all," he said, laughing; "it was a cheap way of getting
+off! They would not get much each, poor fellows!"
+
+"Oh, quite plenty," said Miss Schwarz; "if they had been more civil
+we might have given them a little more. I hope you were not very much
+frightened, Miss Trafford."
+
+"Oh, only a little," said Evelyn; but she looked pale and tired, and we
+were all very glad to get safely back to the hotel.
+
+Evelyn lay on the sofa in the sitting-room all the evening, and I sat
+beside her, whilst Sir William went into the coffee-room and discussed
+the adventures of the day with a party of English travellers who had
+arrived that evening from Jaffa.
+
+My beautiful ferns and flowers looked withered after the heat of
+the day, so I gave them fresh water, and pressed one or two of the
+prettiest in blotting-paper. Then I sat down beside Evelyn, with my
+work in my hand, but I did not feel inclined to sew. I felt very
+dull and depressed, and Evelyn seemed so likewise. I said to myself
+that it was only the reaction after the excitement and fright we had
+experienced that afternoon, and yet I felt that, after all, that was
+not the real reason.
+
+Was it because—could it be because—Mr. Stanley had gone away?
+For, after all, he was only a stranger; a pleasant—yes, a very
+pleasant—travelling companion, who had been very kind and useful to
+us when we were in his company, but who would think no more of us now
+that he had gone away. Like ships meeting on the sea, we had gone side
+by side for a little time, but now we had parted—probably near to meet
+again. That was all; it was nothing to be dull or miserable about. And
+I was quite angry with myself for having given way to the feeling of
+depression which had crept over me. I tried to think of my work, of
+Maggie, of our encounter with the Arabs in the tomb, of anything but of
+Mr. Stanley's mysterious disappearance!
+
+But, somehow or other, I could not tell why, my thoughts would come
+back to it, in spite of all my efforts to turn them to other subjects.
+I could not help wondering whether Evelyn was thinking of the same
+thing. Why was she so quiet this evening? Could it be that she missed
+Mr. Stanley? Was I right in fancying that was the reason? Did she
+really care for him more than for an ordinary acquaintance?
+
+I looked up at her, and found she was watching me, with a curious
+expression on her face—half amused, half inquiring. I rather resented
+it, I am afraid, and looked down again quickly, and went on steadily
+with my work.
+
+"It will all come right, May, dear," she said, after a pause.
+
+"What will come right, Evelyn?" I asked. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean about Mr. Stanley's mysterious disappearance," she said,
+smiling; "I am sure we shall get a solution of the mystery in a day or
+two."
+
+"Oh yes," I said, carelessly; "we shall have to find another dragoman;
+that is the only drawback."
+
+"The only drawback!" she repeated.
+
+"You don't think so," I said.
+
+"You don't think so either, May," she said; "I know you don't."
+
+"Well, perhaps not," I said. "How close it is to-night, Evelyn! Would
+you mind me taking a little walk on the verandah outside the window—to
+get cool before bed-time?"
+
+"Oh, not at all," she said, smiling; "go, May, dear, it will do you
+good."
+
+So I left my work and went outside the window.
+
+It was a quiet, starlight night, and the stars in the East are
+wonderfully brilliant and beautiful. I walked up and down for some
+time, not exactly thinking, not exactly praying, but with my heart
+lifted upwards, above this changing world, to the unchanging Friend
+above. And an answer came to that upward appeal. It came in the
+recollection of some words I had heard a few days before:
+
+"'Next time a trouble comes which you cannot understand, and which seems
+so very hard to bear, just say to yourself it is God's chisel at work
+upon me—you will find it such a help.'"
+
+And it was a help to me; the very help that I needed—God's chisel at
+work upon me, then I must not complain; I must not murmur; I must not
+even wonder; I must just trust and wait.
+
+Looking up at the bright starry sky, I said, in the words of a
+favourite verse:
+
+     "He doeth all things well,
+      We say it now with tears;
+    But we shall sing it with those we love,
+      Through bright eternal years."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+SUNDAY ON MOUNT ZION.
+
+[Illustration] THE next day was Sunday, and I think we were all glad of
+this. Sir William felt unable to make any plans without Mr. Stanley's
+advice, but as we had already been several times to the pretty little
+English church, we had no difficulty in knowing how to spend our time
+on Sunday.
+
+The service began at ten o'clock, so we were up early and started for
+church directly after breakfast. I felt comforted and rested during the
+service, and hoped to got just the message I needed from the sermon. I
+must confess I was somewhat disappointed when the text was given out,
+for it seemed to me that no comfort or help could be found in it. It
+was a singular text, and one I had never noticed before. The preacher
+was a German by birth, but he spoke English as if it had been his
+native language. We were told afterwards that he was a converted Jew,
+and the missionary to the Jews in Jerusalem.
+
+The text was from Leviticus xxiii.40:
+
+   "Ye shall take you the boughs of goodly trees, branches of palm trees,
+and the boughs of thick trees, and willows of the brook; and ye shall
+rejoice before the Lord your God seven days."
+
+The clergyman first answered the thought which I had had in my heart,
+that there was no lesson for me in the text, by showing that all God's
+word was written for our learning, and that these Jewish feasts and
+ceremonies were wonderfully suggestive and helpful, if we looked into
+their real meaning and significance.
+
+The text contained directions for the Feast of Tabernacles, the feast
+of joy. It came after the Day of Atonement, after pardon had been
+obtained, after sin had been put away. First must coma forgiveness,
+then follows joy; pardon first, rejoicing afterwards.
+
+"And in the text," he said, "we are given four conditions under which
+alone the joy of the Lord can be ours; four characteristics of the true
+Christian, who can alone rejoice before his God."
+
+I felt in my own heart, as he was speaking, how little I knew of the
+true joy of the Lord. I was so easily cast down by little earthly
+troubles and worries, and I so soon lost the happiness and peace of
+feeling the Lord's presence with me, and the Lord's smile upon me. The
+last two days, for instance; oh, how depressed and miserable I had
+felt! Could it be that I was overlooking and neglecting one of the four
+things pictured in the text?
+
+Then the sermon went on to show that although these four kinds of trees
+meant nothing to our English ears, they meant a very great deal to the
+men to whom the direction was given, for, to them, each kind of tree
+was a word-picture of some particular grace. Just as we speak of the
+innocent daisy, the humble lily of the valley, the modest violet; and
+just as we take these flowers as emblems to us of innocence, humility,
+and modesty; and just as we talk of "a butterfly life," and every one
+knows at once what we mean,—so in the same way, the Jews had emblematic
+meanings for different trees, and flowers, and other things in nature,
+and they understood perfectly well what was symbolized when these trees
+or flowers were mentioned.
+
+The four kinds of trees in the text had a very deep and beautiful
+meaning for them. The goodly trees, or citron trees, were their emblem
+for a pure and true heart; the palm trees were a picture to them of
+uprightness and bold straightforwardness. The thick trees, or myrtle
+trees, were their symbol of contentment. The myrtle leaf was supposed
+to be in the shape of an eye, and was always used by them as the emblem
+of a modest and contented eye. The willows of the brook were to them a
+picture of a mouth filled with words of kindness and truth. The leaves
+of the willow were thought to be in the shape of a mouth, and they were
+most particular that only those willow trees should be used in the
+Feast of Tabernacles as had smooth, soft leaves. Those of a sharp and
+prickly nature, and the edge of the leaves of which is rough like a
+saw, were never allowed to be gathered or used in this ceremony, that
+they might understand thereby, that in order to have true joy they must
+set a watch before their mouth, and only suffer words of truth and
+kindness to come out of it.
+
+Four characteristics then were at once brought to their minds, when the
+direction in the text was given. The Israelites understood at once,
+that to be able really to rejoice in the Lord they must have a heart
+pure towards God, they must be upright as the palm-tree, they must be
+contented as the myrtle, and they must have mouths ever speaking words
+of kindness and truth.
+
+And then he asked us to examine ourselves by these four tests. Were we
+keeping the door of our hearts, guarding it against all evil thoughts,
+evil motives, evil desires? Were we also upright before God and man,
+growing ever heavenward, Godward?
+
+Were we contented and happy to be just where God placed us, and to
+do just the work that God had chosen for us to do? And how about our
+words; were we careful to be strictly truthful in every little matter?
+And did we guard against ever letting unkind or hasty words come out
+of our mouth? "If not," he said, "how could we expect to be able to
+rejoice before the Lord?"
+
+I have not time to write down more of the sermon now, but I felt it
+very much; it went straight to my heart, and made me feel that it was
+my own fault that I was so seldom in a rejoicing frame of mind. Oh, how
+earnestly I prayed that I might be more careful over my heart, that
+I might be upright as the palm, contented as the myrtle, and that my
+words might ever be acceptable in the sight of my Lord.
+
+A few days afterwards, as we were sitting at breakfast, the waiter came
+into the room with a letter. Sir William looked at the postmark.
+
+"Alexandria!" he said. "Well, I am glad he has written at last!"
+
+"Is it from Mr. Stanley, papa?" asked Evelyn.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I should think so; I do not know any one else who is
+likely to be in Alexandria!"
+
+He opened the letter, and glanced hastily at its contents. Then he took
+up the envelope, and looked at it again; then he turned once more to
+the first page of the letter and began to read it through.
+
+Evelyn and I sat watching him. I tried to go on with my breakfast, but
+I felt as if the food would choke me, for Sir William looked more and
+more impatient and annoyed as he went on reading.
+
+When he had finished, he tossed the letter on the table, saying
+angrily, "He is a good-for-nothing rascal!"
+
+I looked up quickly, and Evelyn asked in a trembling voice:
+
+"Who is, papa—not Mr. Stanley?"
+
+"No, not Mr. Stanley," he said; "at least he may be; I do not know that
+he is; but that cousin of yours, Donald Trafford—the letter is from
+him. An idle good-for-nothing rascal, that is what he is! And I shall
+tell his father so when I see him!"
+
+"Let me have the letter, papa," said Evelyn. She was as white as a
+sheet, and trembling with agitation.
+
+"Well, don't trouble about it, darling," said Sir William, in quite
+a different tone from that in which he had spoken before; "he is not
+worth troubling about; he really is not. If I could only get you to see
+that. Here, take the letter, I suppose I shall have to let you see it;
+but don't make yourself ill again, for my sake!"
+
+Evelyn took the letter and read it slowly through. As she read it a
+deep crimson flush came into her pale face; but this faded away and
+left her as white as death when she had finished reading. Then she rose
+from the table, without speaking a word, left the letter lying beside
+her plate, and went out of the room.
+
+I was rising to follow her when Sir William said:
+
+"Wait a little, Miss Lindsay, perhaps she will get over it better
+alone; if she has a good cry, it will do her good. Poor child, what a
+pity she ever took a fancy to that worthless fellow! Read his letter,
+Miss Lindsay, and tell me what you think of it."
+
+I took it up, and read as follows:
+
+   "My DEAR UNCLE,
+
+   "I have no doubt you think that I am in Port Said, though I did
+contrive to keep out of your way during your short stay in that
+delightful place.
+
+   "But I am not there now, but have removed to a town many miles distant,
+which I will not name, lest you should feel it your duty to report me
+in England.
+
+   "I should not have troubled you with a letter, but that I wanted to
+ask you to lend me a trifling sum to start me in business in the
+town in which I am now living. I have had the offer of a first-rate
+partnership, which will enable me soon to become a rich man, but it is
+necessary that I should advance something in the shape of capital. My
+partner asks for £100, but I think he will be content with £50, if you
+are not inclined to forward me the larger sum.
+
+   "I am sure, dear uncle, you will not refuse to grant this trifling
+request, when I tell you that I have a wife depending on me, and that
+unless I can avail myself of this opening (which is really a splendid
+one), there is nothing but starvation before us both.
+
+   "As I am now a married man, there is no chance of my again being an
+annoyance to you, so I feel sure you will not deny me this small and
+last favour.
+
+   "Please address to 'Monsieur Junôt, Post Office, Alexandria.' M. Junôt
+is my wife's brother; she is a French girl, and he will call for the
+letter, and forward the remittance to me.
+
+   "With love to Evelyn and yourself,
+
+       "Believe me, dear uncle,
+
+              "Your affectionate nephew,
+
+                                "DONALD TRAFFORD."
+
+   "P.S.—You will wonder how I knew you were in Jerusalem. I met a
+dragoman the other day who was on board the same steamer with you, and
+he heard that you were to spend a long time in Jerusalem."
+
+"Did you ever hear anything like that?" said Sir William, as I folded
+up the letter. "Is not that a piece of cool impertinence?"
+
+"He does not seem much ashamed of himself," I could not help saying.
+
+"Ashamed of himself! No, indeed! There is not a word about his running
+off with that money. He is an idle, selfish, good-for-nothing fellow!
+And he was always the same; it was always a mystery to me what Evelyn
+could see to like in him. Poor child, I hope it will not make her ill
+again!"
+
+"Oh no, I think not," I said; "I think she sees now what his real
+character is."
+
+"I hope so," he said, anxiously; "perhaps if you went upstairs you
+could say a word or two to comfort her. You know best—do you think we
+should leave her alone or not?"
+
+"I think I will just go upstairs and see," I said.
+
+To my astonishment I found Evelyn sitting in her room busily at work,
+and looking quite calm and cheerful. I fancied she had been crying
+a little, but she welcomed me with a smile, and asked me if I had
+read Donald's letter. I told her that Sir William had wished me to do
+so, and then she asked me what I thought of it. I did not answer her
+directly, for I did not like to say what I really thought.
+
+"I will tell you what I think of it," she said, "and I shall tell papa
+when I go downstairs. I think it is a shocking letter. I cannot think
+how Donald could ever write it! But May," she said, "please don't think
+I am troubling about it. I had given up loving Donald some time ago,
+ever since I found out that he was so very different to what I always
+thought he was; but I pitied him dreadfully. I thought he would be so
+miserable and wretched, and feel so guilty and ashamed when he thought
+about his having taken that money. I always pictured him wishing, oh,
+so much, that he had never done it, and trying very hard to save his
+money so that he might be able to pay it back again. But now, May,
+I can do neither; I can neither love him nor pity him; he does not
+deserve either love or pity, does he?"
+
+"No, he does not," I said; "the only thing for which we can pity him is
+for his wickedness."
+
+"Just think of his marrying a French girl," she said. "I wonder if
+it is the one who waited on us in the shop in Port Said. Well, I am
+glad he wrote that letter; it is far better to know what he really is.
+I can't think how I could be so much deceived in him. I am afraid I
+cannot read people's characters very well. But do not let us talk about
+him any more to-day, May; the trouble has quite gone, it has indeed,
+but I do not like to talk about it; let us speak of something else."
+
+Sir William was very much relieved to find that Evelyn was in good
+spirits, and that she took his view of Donald Trafford's conduct. He
+was still very much ruffled and annoyed by the letter, and was, in
+consequence, fidgety and impatient with the world in general all day.
+Not liking to speak about his nephew for fear of distressing Evelyn, he
+gave vent, instead, to his feelings about Mr. Stanley's disappearance.
+
+"Mr. Stanley evidently did not intend to write now," he said; "it was
+one of the strangest things he knew, his going off in that way. It just
+proved what he had always heard, that it does not do to make friends
+with people whom you meet whilst travelling. It is impossible to tell
+what they are, and you may be imposed upon to any extent."
+
+"Oh, papa," said Evelyn, "what do you mean? Surely you do not mean that
+Air. Stanley imposed upon us?"
+
+"Well, I don't say that he did," said Six William; "but I say that
+we don't know that he did not. You must confess that it was a very
+suspicious thing his disappearing so suddenly, and never giving us a
+hint as to where he was going. I don't like it at all."
+
+I longed to speak, but I felt as if I could hardly trust myself to do
+so, for I might have said more than I intended, if I had opened my
+lips. So I left the defence to Evelyn, and she took it up indignantly.
+
+"It is really too bad, papa," she said, "to speak of Mr. Stanley in
+that way! I think he is one of the nicest and best men I have ever
+seen."
+
+"So he seemed to be, I grant," said Sir William; "but how do we know
+who he is, or what he is? We only know it from what he told us himself;
+and that may be true—I hope it is—or it may be false. That is why it
+is very foolish ever to be too friendly with people you meet when
+travelling; they may be all they profess to be, or they may not."
+
+"But Mr. Stanley is a great friend of Lord Moreton, papa," said Evelyn;
+"I know he is. He told me he was the day Claude and Alice were here."
+
+"Yes, I know he told you so," said Sir William; "I never heard Lord
+Moreton mention him."
+
+"Will you not write and ask Lord Moreton, papa? It is quite worth
+while, and then we shall know one way or the other."
+
+"Yes, perhaps I will," said Sir William; "that will settle the matter
+anyhow; perhaps Lord Moreton may be able to clear up the mystery."
+
+The next day was the mail day, and Sir William gave me his letters
+to take to the man who was going to post them. I looked through the
+addresses as I went downstairs, but there was none to Lord Moreton: he
+had forgotten it.
+
+We did not much enjoy our visit to Jerusalem after Mr. Stanley left us.
+We had very cold and cheerless weather, and the bare stone floors and
+covered stones were poor substitutes for the richly-carpeted rooms and
+bright blazing fires in Alliston Hall. Then during the cold weather it
+rained incessantly the whole day, and the rain was far heavier than we
+ever see it in England. We were obliged to keep indoors in the hotel,
+listening to the sound of the water which was rushing down the spouts
+of the house into the cisterns, in which it was carefully preserved for
+use during the following summer, and trying to amuse ourselves as best
+we could with our work, and the few books to be found in the hotel. Sir
+William became very impatient, and a great longing came suddenly over
+him to go homewards. He was tired of foreign travelling, and foreign
+places, and foreign hotels, he said, and Evelyn seemed so well and
+strong, that he thought there could be no risk in her returning to
+England.
+
+Evelyn and I assented cordially to the proposal, so it was decided to
+leave Jaffa by the very next steamer.
+
+
+We visited many places in Italy and Germany, and spent a long time on
+the return journey; for Sir William was afraid, for Evelyn's sake, of
+arriving, in England till the spring had fairly begun.
+
+I was very much interested in a great deal that we saw, and yet I did
+not enjoy it nearly so much as I had always imagined I should enjoy a
+tour on the Continent. I felt unsettled and restless, and longed to be
+back in England.
+
+We stayed for some weeks in London before going to Alliston, for Sir
+William had some business that he was anxious to transact, before
+returning home. London was bright and gay just then, and we enjoyed our
+visit to it very much. But what gave me more pleasure than anything
+else was meeting Miss Irvine again. Her home in London was in the next
+street to the one in which we were staying, and we saw her every day.
+
+We were much interested in hearing of the work for God that Miss Irvine
+was doing in one of the very poorest and lowest of the London parishes.
+She spoke very little of it herself, but we found out by degrees that,
+during the last few months, a most wonderful work, of which she was the
+centre, had been going on amongst the poor lost people who are crowded
+together in the alleys and courts of that part of London.
+
+Whilst we were there, a tea was to be given to the women who attended
+her mothers' meeting. Their husbands were also invited, for she hoped
+by this means to be able to reach many whom it was impossible to see or
+to speak with in any other way.
+
+Miss Irvine asked us, the day before the tea took place, whether we
+should like to be present. Evelyn accepted her invitation joyfully, but
+Sir William demurred a little when he heard of it.
+
+"I don't like your going into those low parts of the city, my dear," he
+said to Evelyn; "in your state of health you ought to be careful. There
+are sure to be people there just recovering from fever or small-pox,
+and it can't be good for you to go through those dirty, filthy, close
+streets."
+
+Evelyn looked very much disappointed.
+
+"I want so very much to see Lilla's poor people, papa," she said.
+
+He was going to answer her, when Miss Irvine said, "Perhaps if Evelyn
+does not come, you will look in for a few minutes, Sir William? Lord
+Moreton is going to give them a little address after tea, and he would
+like to meet you."
+
+Sir William fell into the snare she had laid for him.
+
+"Lord Moreton!" he exclaimed. "How did you get him to come? Why, he is
+not in town now."
+
+"No, but he is coming up for my tea-party," said Miss Irvine, laughing;
+"he takes a great interest in my little mission work; indeed, if it had
+not been for Lord Moreton I could not have carried it on. He supplies
+the means, whilst I try to find the workers. He hires the room for me
+in which I have all my meetings, and in which the tea will be given
+to-morrow night."
+
+"Indeed!" said Sir William. "I had no idea of that. And you say he is
+going to give you an address?"
+
+"Yes, he has promised to say a few words to the mothers; he has
+spoken to them before, and they felt it very much. He puts the way of
+salvation so simply before them that it seems to go straight to their
+hearts."
+
+"Well, I really think we must go and hear him. Evelyn, my dear, I don't
+think it will hurt you if you do not dress too warmly; those places are
+always so close. We will drive there and keep the windows closed, so
+that the foul air of the streets will not come in. What time shall we
+be ready, Lilla?"
+
+All arrangements were made, and Evelyn and I both looked forward with
+much pleasure to the following evening.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE MYSTERY SOLVED.
+
+[Illustration] MISS IRVINE'S mission-room was a bright, cheerful place,
+and was very prettily decorated for the festive occasion. Texts cut out
+in red and in white paper, and wreaths of holly and ivy ornamented the
+walls; and the long tables, covered with white cloths, were spread with
+a most beautiful repast, which was arranged as prettily and tastefully
+as if it had been set out for a wedding breakfast.
+
+The guests had all arrived when we went in, and were sitting at the
+tables, quietly admiring all around them. Poor tired mothers, many of
+them with babies in their arms; husbands, whose faces bore marks of
+care and toil, and many of whom showed plainly that drink and sin were
+bearing them down, and ruining their health and their homes; children,
+with pinched and unchildlike faces, were all gathered round the pretty
+tea-tables, looking forward to a happy evening in their unhappy lives.
+Most of the men were in working clothes, for they possessed no other's
+in which to come; but they had all made themselves as clean and tidy as
+they could, and seemed shyly and quietly happy.
+
+They began to feel more at their ease when a blessing was asked, the
+tea was poured out, and we all sat down together. Then the tongues
+began to be busy and their poor, careworn faces looked glad and happy.
+
+Lord Moreton was there, working busily, looking after the wants of
+every one of the poor people, and talking pleasantly to them all
+the time. He was a tall man, with dark hair; and I thought him very
+handsome indeed, in spite of the slight cast in his eye of which Evelyn
+had complained so much. But it was so very slight that it was not
+at all unpleasant, and I wondered that she had considered it such a
+drawback to his face.
+
+He came up to us as soon as we entered the room, and seemed very
+pleased to meet Sir William and Evelyn. But we had little time for
+conversation till the work of the evening was over.
+
+After tea came Lord Moreton's address. It was very simple, and very
+much to the point, and I could see that the poor people felt it. He
+spoke to them of the love of Jesus, and how He was longing and yearning
+to save them; how He was following them like the shepherd after the
+lost sheep, seeking them by night, seeking them by day, seeking them in
+sickness, seeking them in health, seeking them in their sin and trouble
+and misery, ever seeking them, ever longing for them to turn round and
+let Him find them.
+
+And then Lord Moreton begged them to turn round to Him that very night,
+to leave drink behind, to leave sin behind, to leave shame behind, to
+turn their back on Satan and all his ways, to turn round to the Good
+Shepherd, and to say to Him, "Lord Jesus, save me."
+
+There were very few dry eyes when Lord Moreton had finished. He did
+not show his nervousness at all when he was speaking. I fancied that
+his hand trembled a little, but his voice was clear and steady, and he
+spoke so naturally and unaffectedly that you forgot the man altogether,
+and became engrossed only with what he was saying. There was something
+in his quiet, persuasive, pleading manner which it would require a hard
+heart to withstand. I could see that Evelyn felt it very much, though
+she made no remark upon it afterwards.
+
+When the poor people had left, and only the helpers remained in the
+room, we had more time for conversation. Then, for the first time, I
+saw that Lord Moreton was indeed a very nervous man. He was so shy and
+reserved when he first came up to us, that I could hardly believe he
+was the man who had spoken so easily and naturally to the poor people.
+
+But Sir William soon set him at ease, by telling him of our journey to
+the East, and of some of our adventures whilst we were there.
+
+"You met a friend of mine in Jerusalem, I think," Lord Moreton said.
+
+"Oh yes, you mean Mr. Stanley," said Sir William, as if he had never
+doubted, for a moment, Mr. Stanley's friendship with Lord Moreton.
+"He proved a capital guide to us; we were sorry he had to leave so
+abruptly."
+
+"Yes, poor fellow," said Lord Moreton; "it was a very great shock to
+him."
+
+"What was a great shock to him?" asked Sir William. "We never heard why
+he left Jerusalem so suddenly."
+
+"Oh, did you not?" said Lord Moreton. "He told me that he had written
+to you, and I think he was a little disappointed that he did not get
+an answer. It was on account of his father's illness. I sent him a
+telegram to tell him how dangerously ill his father was, and he left
+Jerusalem immediately he received it. But he was too late; his father
+had been dead some days when he arrived. Poor fellow, it was a terrible
+time for him!"
+
+"I am really very sorry," said Sir William; "I had no idea that he
+was in such trouble; it seemed strange to us, as you may imagine, his
+disappearing so suddenly, and without any reason, so far as we knew."
+
+"Yes, of course it would," said Lord Moreton; "he will be very vexed
+when he finds his letter did not reach you. He is such a nice fellow;
+he is just like a brother to me. The Stanley's place is close to ours,
+so we see a great deal of each other, and of course we shall be more
+than ever together now that Howard has come into the property; for he
+will be still more at home now."
+
+"I am very sorry to hear of his father's death," said Sir William again.
+
+"Yes," answered Lord Moreton; "and you would have felt it very much if
+you had seen his grief when he arrived, and I had to tell him that his
+father was gone; it was very sad. His mother died a few years ago, and
+there were no other children, so he and his father had been all in all
+to each other. Howard was very unwilling to go abroad this year, for he
+fancied his father was failing a little; but the old man insisted on
+his going, for Howard had a severe illness just this time last year,
+and the doctors said he would not be strong again until he had had a
+complete change. It was very sad, was it not, that it ended as it did?"
+
+"Poor fellow!" said Sir William. "Can you give me his address? I should
+like to write to him, and express my sympathy, and explain why I did
+not write before."
+
+"Yes, I will give it to you at once," said Lord Moreton, as he took
+a leaf from his pocket-book, wrote the address, and handed it to Sir
+William. "Stanley is very busy now, of course, settling his affairs,
+but in a month's time I have persuaded him to go with me for a run in
+the Highlands; I am sure it will do him good."
+
+"In the Highlands!" said Sir William. "Then you will, of course, come
+to us on the way, both of you. And remember, we shall not be content
+with a three day's visit; you must spare us a week or ten days at
+least."
+
+"Oh, thank you," said Lord Moreton; "that will be very nice!"
+
+"I will write to Mr. Stanley about it to-morrow. Just name your own day
+when your plans are formed; we are expecting no visitors at present."
+
+So it was all settled, and Lord Moreton said good-bye to us, for he was
+to leave town by the early train the next day.
+
+"Well, papa," said Evelyn, as we drove home, "Mr. Stanley was not an
+escaped convict after all."
+
+"I never said he was, my dear; I always thought him a remarkably nice
+fellow; only, of course, his sudden disappearance was a little puzzling
+and somewhat mysterious. If we had only got his letter it would have
+been all right!"
+
+Then Sir William changed the subject, by complimenting Miss Irvine on
+the success of her entertainment, and speaking very highly of Lord
+Moreton's forcible address.
+
+
+We went back to Alliston the following week, and, to my great joy, Sir
+William proposed that I should go at once to the old Manor House at
+Branston to see Maggie. The aunts were delighted to have me, so I went
+there the day after I had received their letter. I found everything in
+the house and around it just the same as when I had left it. The same
+neatness and order and punctuality and regularity reigned everywhere,
+and the same kindly feeling pervaded the whole place.
+
+My dear little Maggie was on the platform to welcome me, and John
+and the comfortable horses were waiting for me at the entrance to
+the station. The sisters received me with open arms, and with tears
+in their eyes, and Miss Jane returned thanks at family prayers that
+night, "for the marvellous escapes, and wonderful preservation in the
+midst of many and great dangers, which had been vouchsafed to one of
+their number, during her residence in the land of the infidel and the
+heretic."
+
+I had much to tell, and they had much to hear, and the fortnight passed
+away all too quickly.
+
+During the second week Maggie and I went for a two days' visit to the
+Parsonage at Acton. Miss Richards was very anxious to see us again,
+and wrote me a very touching letter, saying, that if we would not mind
+spending a quiet day or two with her she would feel it a real kindness,
+and it would be a great cheer and comfort to her. She did not think her
+time on earth would be very long, she said; the doctor had told her
+that she might linger for a few months, but that she was suffering from
+a complaint which must end in death.
+
+   "So he says, my dear," wrote the good old lady; "but I would rather
+say, it must end in life—life in His presence, where alone is fulness
+of joy."
+
+We found Miss Richards very much altered, weak and ill, and fearfully
+thin; yet still able to go about a little, to look after her
+housekeeping, and to sit in her easy chair in the garden, with her work
+or her book.
+
+We had many quiet, happy talks together, and I felt it a great
+privilege to be speaking to one who was, as it were, close on the
+threshold of heaven itself.
+
+Mr. Ellis was very much aged, and looked careworn and depressed. He was
+exceedingly kind to us; but he seemed as if a heavy weight were resting
+on him, which he could not shake off.
+
+Whilst we were at Acton, Maggie and I went and peeped through the
+gate of our old home. It looked just the same; it was not altered at
+all. The rabbits were nibbling the grass on the lawn, the stream was
+trickling peacefully along, and every bush, and tree, and flower-bed
+looked just as they had done on that memorable day when I had sat by my
+bedroom window with Claude's unanswered letter in my hand.
+
+But the home was no longer ours, and even as we looked at it little
+children's faces appeared at the window of my old room and reminded me
+of this.
+
+I thought of Miss Irvine's words as I turned away: "What a comfort that
+there is one home where there will be no parting, and no going away."
+
+That evening, after Maggie was in bed, Miss Richards called me into her
+room, and spoke to me about Claude.
+
+"May, dear, you remember our last talk together before you went away,"
+she said; "you were indeed right, and I was wrong. I would not have you
+Claude's wife now for the world. You had, indeed, a very happy escape."
+
+"I think I told you we met them in Jerusalem, Miss Richards."
+
+"Yes, and they are still abroad, spending what money they have. It will
+all be gone soon, and then they will be obliged to return home, and the
+crash will come."
+
+"What do you mean, Miss Richards?" I asked. "I thought they were very
+rich."
+
+"So we thought, my dear, and so they thought; but Alice's money has
+proved a mere bubble. Her father has speculated a great deal, and the
+whole of her money has gone now, every penny of it. They did not know
+that when you saw them in Jerusalem; it has come out since. And Claude,
+you know, has not very much money of his own. It would have been a nice
+little sum yearly if he had been careful. But oh, the bills, any dear!
+Scores of them are waiting for him; they send a great many here to be
+forwarded. I believe that is why he does not come home. But he must
+come, some time or other; and then his father thinks that more than
+the whole of Claude's capital will be swallowed up in order to pay his
+debts. And what will they do then, my dear?"
+
+"I am very sorry to hear it," I said.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Richards, "and this trouble is just crushing the life
+out of his poor father. I try to comfort him; and I tell him that I
+hope this trial will be the means, by God's blessing, of bringing
+Claude to the Saviour. But, though I tell Mr. Ellis so, my dear, I feel
+very doubtful about it, for Claude has so hardened his heart against
+all religion, and has so shut his eyes and refused to believe the
+truth, that I am very much afraid there is not much hope for him. I
+don't tell his father so; but I have great fears myself that even this
+trouble will not bring him any nearer to God."
+
+"I was afraid his views were the same," I said, "when I met them in
+Jerusalem."
+
+"Oh yes, they are even more pronounced," said Miss Richards; "and he
+has made his poor little wife almost as great a doubter as himself.
+She is a nice little thing, very affectionate and good to me; and I
+feel for her terribly in this trouble. I am afraid it will make great
+unhappiness between them. I quite dread their coming home."
+
+That was the last time I ever saw Miss Richards. She took a loving
+farewell of me the next morning, and we both of us knew that, when next
+we met, it would be in the land where partings are unknown.
+
+I heard of her death, or rather of her entrance into life, only a few
+weeks after our visit to Acton.
+
+Maggie's aunts were very anxious that I should spend another week with
+them, before going back to Alliston Hall; but Evelyn had written to me,
+saying that Lord Moreton and Mr. Stanley were expected on the very day
+that I had already fixed to return, and she hoped that I should not
+fail to appear, as she wanted us all to have a good talk together about
+Jerusalem and our adventures there. I told Maggie and the aunts that I
+did not like to disappoint Evelyn, but felt that as she wished it, I
+ought to go back at once. I did not say anything of my own feelings in
+the matter.
+
+
+I arrived at Alliston Hall just as Evelyn was dressing for dinner. She
+welcomed me with great joy, and told me that the visitors had arrived,
+and that I must get ready with all haste, as the gong would soon sound
+for dinner.
+
+When I was dressed I went into the library, thinking that I was late,
+and that every one would have assembled, but I found no one there
+except Mr. Stanley.
+
+I do not know how it was, but I suddenly turned very shy and nervous,
+and, after shaking hands with him, I was on the point of making an
+excuse about wanting to get my work, and by this means leaving the
+room, when he began to ask me many questions about Jerusalem, and I was
+obliged to stay.
+
+"So I was put down as a suspicious character," he said, smiling, "when
+I disappeared so suddenly."
+
+"Sir William thought it very strange," I said; "and he began to doubt a
+little if you were what you said you were."
+
+Mr. Stanley laughed.
+
+"And you?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, I knew it would be all right."
+
+"You did not doubt me then?"
+
+"No, not at all," I said.
+
+"Thank you."
+
+There was a pause after this, and then he said gravely, "The chisel has
+been very busy since I saw you last."
+
+"Yes," I said, "I was very sorry to hear of it."
+
+"We must not be sorry," he said, gently; "for him it is great gain, and
+for me—"
+
+"For you?" I asked, for he seemed as if he did not like to go on.
+
+"For me, it is a hard bit of discipline; the Master Builder's tools
+have cut very deep, but it is all right. I ought not to be sorry, ought
+I?"
+
+"I see what you mean," I said; "but are we not told to be 'sorrowful,
+yet always rejoicing?' Don't you think it is a comfort that the two are
+put together?"
+
+"Yes," he said, thoughtfully, "I see; He does not blame us for
+being sorry, so long as we sorrow not as others which have no hope.
+'Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing;' thank you so much for the thought."
+
+I fancied that he had a tear in his eye as he spoke, but I could not be
+sure, for a minute afterwards Sir William entered the room, and then he
+seemed as cheerful and full of spirits as he had always been whilst we
+were travelling together.
+
+"So you never got my letter!" he said, to Sir William. "I am very
+sorry; but I gave it to a dragoman whom I knew pretty well, and whom I
+met at the Jaffa Gate. He was not a Jerusalem dragoman, but one who had
+come with some people from Cairo, and he promised me to deliver it at
+once. He must either have forgotten it, or, Arab-like, he conveniently
+lost it, but took care not to lose the 'baksheesh' I gave him at the
+same time. Well, it does not signify now!"
+
+"Oh no," said Sir William, "of course not; only that fellow deserves to
+hear of it again! But how was it they knew nothing of your telegram at
+the Convent?"
+
+"I met the man in the street bringing it, just after I left you,
+Miss Lindsay. He knew me by sight, and handed it to me at once, and
+then I just hurried back to the Convent and told them I must leave
+that morning; but I had neither time nor inclination to enter into
+particulars with them."
+
+When the gentlemen came into the drawing-room after dinner, Mr. Stanley
+brought out a number of splendid photographs of Jerusalem and its
+neighbourhood which he had bought in London, and had brought with him
+to show us.
+
+Sir William was engrossed for some time in an interesting debate which
+he had just found in the "Times" newspaper; but Evelyn explained the
+Jerusalem photographs to Lord Moreton, and Mr. Stanley sat by me and
+pointed out the different places that we had visited together.
+
+There was one beautiful view taken from the Mount of Olives, just at
+the turn of the hill where we had stood to look down upon Jerusalem.
+
+We looked at this photograph a long time; I thought it more beautiful
+than any of the others. Jerusalem stood out clear and bright in the
+sunshine, each house, each mosque, each dome was standing out before
+us almost as distinctly as we had seen it on that lovely evening when,
+like our Lord and Master, we had beheld the city and wept over it.
+
+"I shall never look at that photograph," said Mr. Stanley, "without
+thinking of those words: 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep
+which I had lost.' Do you remember who said them to me there?"
+
+"Yes," I said; "that was a very pleasant ride."
+
+"Are the olive-leaves safe yet?" he asked, in a low voice.
+
+"Oh yes," I said; "did you think I would lose them?"
+
+"No, I did not think so; but I wanted you to tell me, that was all."
+
+How much there was to talk of during those few days, and how many times
+we said the words, "Do you remember?" I have heard it said that when
+we use those three words it is a proof that we are talking to friends
+and not to strangers. To strangers we can never say, "Do you remember?"
+But to friends, to those who have gone side by side with us along any
+part of the pathway of life, how often we say to them, "Do you remember
+this?" "Do you remember that?" And how pleasant it is to recall first
+one thing and then another in the past, and to talk it over together!
+
+I think this will be one of the pleasures of heaven. We shall often
+there, I think, use those three words, "Do you remember?" as we go over
+together in memory all the way that the Lord our God has led us, and as
+we recall the many proofs of His love, His goodness, and His wisdom,
+that we enjoyed together on earth.
+
+It was the last evening of Lord Moreton's and Mr. Stanley's visit; the
+next day they were to leave us for the North.
+
+We were wandering about the lovely gardens of Alliston Hall, gathering
+fresh flowers for Evelyn's sitting-room, for I would never let any one
+else arrange the flowers there.
+
+Lord Moreton was very anxious to see a new and very rare shrub that Sir
+William had had planted at the other side of the gardens, and Evelyn
+went to show it to him.
+
+Mr. Stanley and I stopped behind, for he complained of feeling tired,
+and I had not finished gathering my flowers.
+
+"I am so sorry we are going to-morrow," he said.
+
+I did not answer him, but bent over the bed to gather a beautiful white
+lily of the valley.
+
+"But I shall not disappear so suddenly and mysteriously this time," he
+said.
+
+"No, that is a comfort," I said, involuntarily, and then felt very
+angry with myself for having said it.
+
+"Why is it a comfort?" he asked. "Was my leaving Jerusalem any trouble
+to you?"
+
+"Yes," I said; "of course I was sorry. I did not like Sir William to
+doubt you."
+
+"I am very glad you trusted me through it all," he said.
+
+I was gathering some more lilies, so I did not look up till he spoke
+again, and then he only asked me a question, and I do not remember that
+I ever answered it:
+
+"Will you trust me through life, May?" he said.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+WAS I RIGHT?
+
+[Illustration] WE often speak of "learning by contrast;" and, surely,
+some of our most forcible lessons, those which we never forget, are
+learnt in this way.
+
+I had been about three months in my new home, and I had always felt
+that it was the happiest place on earth, and yet, although I thanked
+God for giving it to me, every morning and evening, when I said my
+prayers, still I do not think I ever realised how happy, how peaceful,
+how blessed it was, until that Monday night.
+
+For Monday morning's post had brought me a letter, written in
+pencil and almost illegible. I did not recognise the writing, and
+therefore glanced to the end, and I was very much surprised to see the
+signature—Alice Ellis.
+
+Yes, the letter was from Claude's wife. It was a very short one. I
+turned to the beginning, and read as follows:
+
+   "MY DEAR MRS. STANLEY,
+
+   "I want to ask a great favour of you. Will you come and see me, as soon
+as you can after you get this letter? I want very much to speak to you;
+there is something that I want to ask you.
+
+   "I am very ill, so please forgive this untidy note, for I am writing it
+in bed. Do come at once, if you can.
+
+   "Please forgive me for asking you.
+
+             "Believe me, dear Mrs. Stanley,
+
+                         "Very sincerely yours,
+
+                                    "ALICE ELLIS."
+
+[Illustration: A SAD ERRAND.]
+
+We do not live very far from London; it is only about an hour's
+journey, so I went by the next train. I wondered very much why Alice
+had sent for me, and what she wanted to ask me.
+
+When I arrived in London I took a cab to the address she had given
+me on the letter. The cabman drove for about a mile through a dirty
+and dismal part of the great city, and then he stopped before a high
+dismal house, in the midst of a row of high dismal houses, which was
+confronted, on the opposite side of the street, by another row of
+houses just as high and just as dismal.
+
+I dismissed the cabman and rang the bell. The door was opened by an
+untidy servant, with no cap or collar on, but wearing a very dirty,
+ragged apron. She showed me into a room the windows of which looked out
+into the narrow street, and asked me to sit down whilst she went to
+tell "the folks upstairs" that I had come.
+
+The room was shabbily furnished, and smelt strongly of tobacco, and
+the atmosphere was close and stifling, as if the windows had not been
+opened for a long time.
+
+Was it possible that Claude and Alice were living here, or had I made
+a mistake in the address? I referred to the letter in my pocket, and
+found I was correct as to the name of the street and the number of the
+house, and, certainly, the girl who had admitted me had said that Mrs.
+Ellis lived there.
+
+But oh, how forlorn and dreary everything looked! I was quite glad when
+a slipshod footstep was heard on the stairs, and a sullen-looking girl,
+of about fourteen years old, came in, and asked me to come upstairs
+to "missus." She took me into a bedroom at the very top of that high
+house, and there, lying in bed and looking fearfully ill, I found
+Claude's wife, Alice.
+
+She welcomed me very warmly, and thanked me, again and again, for
+coming so soon; but I could hardly hear what she said, for her baby,
+who was lying on the bed beside her, was crying so loudly, and her
+every effort to pacify him was in vain.
+
+"Jane, you can take baby into the next room," she said to the girl; "he
+is so fretful! Does not he look ill?" she added, turning to me.
+
+I took the child in my arms; he was dreadfully thin, and had a
+careworn, wasted face, more like that of an old man than of a baby
+three months old.
+
+"Poor little fellow!" I said.
+
+"Yes," she said, with a sigh; "I almost wish sometimes that he would
+die."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Ellis," I exclaimed; "you don't mean that."
+
+"Yes I do," she said, bitterly; "I had rather that he died before I do.
+Take him into the next room, Jane!"
+
+The girl took the child from me and went away, leaving the door open
+behind her.
+
+"Would you mind shutting the door?" said Mrs. Ellis. "She always will
+have it open. And then I can talk to you comfortably; we shall feel
+quite safe. I have been wishing to see you for more than a week," she
+went on; "ever since I knew that I was so ill. Oh, Mrs. Stanley, I am
+so utterly miserable."
+
+"I am very sorry to find you so ill," I said.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I am very ill, and I shall never be well again. The
+doctor says I am in a rapid decline. It is trouble which has brought it
+on; you will have heard what trouble we have had."
+
+"Miss Richards told me something about it, when I was with her, a few
+months before she died," I said.
+
+"Yes, all my money has gone; every farthing of it. My father made some
+mistake about it, and the investments failed, and we lost it all. And
+Claude is so angry about it; he says my father has deceived him, and
+he is just as vexed as if it were my fault; he has not seemed to care
+for me a bit since then. But I did not mean to speak of that. I don't
+want to complain. It is natural, I suppose, that he should be vexed. He
+thought we were rich, and we went on spending a quantity of money, and
+then, when this came out, all the people sent in their bills, and now
+all Claude's money has gone too. I don't know what will become of us!"
+
+"And you look so ill," I said; "you ought to be taken care of, Mrs.
+Ellis."
+
+"Oh," she said, "I don't mind so much for myself; it is poor little
+baby that makes me so unhappy. He cries so much, and that girl is so
+very careless with him. Old Mr. Ellis is very kind; he wants me to go
+there, but Claude won't hear of it: I don't know why. We could not live
+at all if it were not for Claude's father; he is always sending him
+money."
+
+"But could you not be moved into a more comfortable lodging than this?"
+I asked.
+
+"I'm afraid not. It is very dirty and untidy; but you see they are good
+in one way, they do not hurry us about paying them, so it seems a pity
+to move. But I did not send for you to tell you all our troubles, Mrs.
+Stanley," she said; "I wanted you, if you could, to help me to get a
+little comfort."
+
+"In what way?" I asked, for I wanted to hear what she would say.
+
+"Do you remember a conversation we had together when I stayed at
+Alliston Hall, Mrs. Stanley? I told you then that I always tried to
+laugh trouble away, and you said—do you remember what you said?"
+
+"What was it?" I asked.
+
+"You said that there were some troubles that could not be laughed away.
+Those troubles have come to me now; I can't laugh now, Mrs. Stanley.
+But I wonder if you remember what else you said that day; you told me
+that you never tried to laugh troubles away, but you always prayed them
+away. Oh, if I could only do that!"
+
+"Do you believe in prayer, Mrs. Ellis?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, I do," she said, earnestly; "I do now. I used to laugh at it when
+Claude laughed at it, and I used to try to think it was all nonsense.
+But the other day the doctor was here, and I said,—
+
+"'Doctor, please tell me the truth; shall I ever get well again?'
+
+"And the doctor said, 'I am afraid not, Mrs. Ellis.'
+
+"Then I asked him how long he thought I should live, and he said
+'perhaps a month or two.'
+
+"And then he went away. I told Claude what the doctor had said, but he
+answered: 'Oh, nonsense, that doctor is a fool, don't believe him; you
+have nothing the matter with you; you will be all right when the warm
+weather comes.'
+
+"And then Claude went out, and he did not come home till past midnight;
+he is always out till quite late every night. I do not know where he
+goes; he never will tell me, and he is always so tired and cross when
+he comes in. Well, that night I lay awake thinking the whole time, and
+oh, Mrs. Stanley, I was so frightened. I knew the doctor was right, I
+felt that I had not long to live, and then I asked myself,—
+
+"'Where am I going?'
+
+"I must be going somewhere. Oh, Mrs. Stanley, I felt that night, and I
+feel now, that the Bible is true; my own heart tells me so. I cannot
+doubt, now that I am dying. I made up my mind that night that I would
+send for you, but since then I have been putting it off. I was afraid
+you would not like to come, we have seen so little of each other; but
+then, yesterday, I thought I would just write and tell you, for there
+is no one else I can think of who would be able to help me."
+
+"I am very glad you have sent for me," I said, taking her thin hand in
+mine; "and now, what was it you wanted to ask me?"
+
+"I want you to tell me very simply," she said, "how to be saved; tell
+me what I must do to get rid of my sin—oh, Mrs. Stanley, I have been so
+very wicked, what must I do? I will do anything I can, if I only know
+what it is."
+
+"There is nothing to do," I said, "nothing at all; if you feel your
+sin, and long to get rid of it, there is nothing to do."
+
+"Nothing to do!" she, said, incredulously. "Oh yes, Mrs. Stanley, there
+must be something to do!"
+
+"No," I said, decidedly, "there is nothing to do; but there is
+something to take!"
+
+"Something to take!" she repeated, in somewhat of her old manner. "I
+suppose you mean that I am to take salvation; but that is so very
+indefinite, Mrs. Stanley. I know all those set phrases so well; but
+they mean nothing to me. What is salvation, and how am I to take it?"
+
+"You are quite right," I said, "have nothing to do with set phrases;
+they are hollow and worthless. You have to deal, not with dead words
+but with a living Saviour, Mrs. Ellis. It is the Lord Jesus whom I want
+you to take—as your own Saviour. I want you to take Him as the One who
+can alone save you from the guilt and power of your sin, and who can
+alone give you the right to enter heaven. He comes to you, and He says:
+
+"'Take Me, take My love as your own; look upon Me as the One who has
+died to save you, and then you need not fear.'
+
+"You understand how it is that He is able to save you, Mrs. Ellis, that
+He has been punished instead of you; that your sins have been laid on
+Him, and that He has suffered the penalty that your sins deserved!"
+
+"Oh yes," she said, "I know all that with my head; I know it
+theoretically, but I want to be able to put it into practice. How am I
+to be quite sure that Jesus has done that for me; how am I to know that
+He has taken my sin away?"
+
+"Because God's Word tells you so," I said; and I took my Bible from my
+pocket and read:
+
+   "'He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our
+iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His
+stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have
+turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on Him the
+iniquity of us all.'"
+
+"Then what is there left for me to do?" she asked.
+
+"Only to accept the Lord Jesus as your Saviour," I said. "Go to Him and
+say to Him,—
+
+"'Lord Jesus, I do thank Thee for bearing my sins; I trust myself to
+Thee to be saved. I want to be forgiven through Thy death, and because
+Thou hast been punished in my place.'"
+
+"Is that all?" she said.
+
+"That is all!" I answered. "You cannot do more. One of my husband's
+tenants was in great trouble a few months ago; he was not at all a
+rich man, and he had got into some rather serious difficulties with a
+neighbour of his. My husband heard of it, and when he had been told
+the whole story, he felt that the man was to be pitied. The poor wife
+came and pleaded with tears in her eyes that he would help them, so my
+husband went to the trial to see what could be done. The sentence was
+pronounced—the man was to pay £20, or failing that, he was to go to
+prison. The poor man could not have paid even £5, for he was very badly
+off, so he was quite prepared to be led off to prison. But at that
+moment my husband stepped forward, and laid down the £20. What was left
+for the man to do? Nothing, but to come forward and to say with tears
+in his eyes,—
+
+"'Mr. Stanley, I thank you kindly, sir; I shall never forget it as long
+as I live!'"
+
+"I see," she said; "I see it all now; and is that just what I have to
+do?"
+
+"Exactly," I said; "you must go to the Lord Jesus and say,—
+
+"'Lord, I have nothing with which to pay. I am a great sinner, and
+owe a great debt, but Thou hast paid it all; I look upon Thee as my
+Saviour, and I shall never forget it as long as I live.'
+
+"It is quite touching to see that poor man's love for my husband now;
+he tries in every way he can to show his gratitude."
+
+"I see," she said; "and we love Him because He first loved us. Oh, Mrs.
+Stanley, thank you so much!"
+
+I did not leave the house until I had reason to believe that Alice
+had indeed taken the Lord Jesus as her own Saviour, nor until she
+could tell me with a smile on her thin, wasted face, "I am not utterly
+miserable now, for I have a sure hope for the future; He has forgiven
+me."
+
+I did not see Claude once, though I was with Alice for several hours.
+Perhaps he purposely kept out of sight, and, I must confess, I was
+glad, under the circumstances, not to meet him, for I felt very angry
+with him for his heartless neglect of his poor little wife.
+
+
+I returned home by the evening train, and then came the contrast. My
+husband was at the station to meet me, and we drove back together to
+our happy home. On the way I told Howard of my visit to Alice, and of
+the conversation I had had with her.
+
+He was very much interested in all I told him, and when we had talked
+it over for a little time, he said: "I have a letter for you in my
+pocket, May, which came by the evening post, and I think I have been
+very good not to open it, for I am most anxious to hear the news
+contained in it."
+
+The letter was from Evelyn Trafford. I took it from him and opened it.
+
+"Oh, Howard," I exclaimed, as I glanced at the contents, "I am so very
+glad!"
+
+"Yes, and so am I," he said; "I know what it is about. There was a
+letter for me from Charlie by the same post. He has been staying at
+Alliston Hall for a week, and it seems to be quite settled now. How
+nice it will be for you to have your friend Evelyn so near. Carrington
+Hall is only five miles from us; you will be able to meet as often as
+you like."
+
+"Evelyn is so very happy," I said, as I handed him the letter, "and she
+seems to have quite forgotten that she said she would never marry any
+one who squinted; I have no doubt now that she would agree with me,
+that in spite of it, Lord Moreton is a very handsome man."
+
+"I am very glad it is so nicely arranged," said my husband. "More than
+one good thing came out of our journey to Palestine, little wife! Do
+you remember that it was my conversation with Miss Trafford near the
+Damascus Gate which first made her look more favourably upon poor
+Charlie—the 'stupid, uninteresting man!' she called him then."
+
+As he said this we turned in at the gate, and drove through the
+shrubbery to the house.
+
+How beautiful everything looked that evening! The rhododendrons, the
+lilacs, and the laburnums were in bloom, and the evening sunshine was
+streaming across the distant hills, and casting a golden light over
+everything.
+
+"Oh, what a contrast, Howard!" I said, as we stood together at the
+window that evening.
+
+"A contrast to what?" he asked.
+
+"A contrast to the wretched lodging I have been in to-day. I always
+felt that mine was the happiest home in the world, but I feel it more
+than ever to-night."
+
+"Are you really happy, little wife?" he asked.
+
+"Happy! Oh, Howard," I answered, "what a question! You know, surely,
+you know how very happy I am!"
+
+"You are not more happy than I am, May," he said; "I little thought
+when I met you first on the roof, at Brindisi, what bright days were in
+store for me!"
+
+"Oh, Howard," I said, after a pause, "just think if that wretched
+lodging that I saw to-day had been my home! And it might have been!"
+
+He knew what I meant, for I had told him of Claude's letter.
+
+"Yes," he said, "it might have been, if you had not resisted the
+temptation put before you that day, and gained a victory over yourself.
+But you are not sorry now, May, that you decided as you did; you think
+you were right, do you?"
+
+"Right! Oh, Howard," I said, "I feel as if I could never be thankful
+enough that I chose as I did; God has been very good to me!"
+
+"Yes, little wife," he said, "the Lord never overlooks or forgets any
+self-denial for His name's sake. You chose His love, His favour, His
+smile, in preference to an earthly affection; you chose to forsake an
+earthly love for His sake, and He did not forget it. I am sure those
+words of our Lord's are true, May:
+
+   "'There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or
+father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands' (in short, anything
+dear to his heart), for My sake, but he shall receive an hundredfold
+in this present time;' or, as another Gospel has it, 'manifold more in
+this present time.'"
+
+"I have indeed received the hundredfold, Howard," I said.
+
+"And then that is not the end," he said, "for, after all, the second
+part of the promise makes the first part sink into insignificance.
+
+   "'And, in the world to come, life everlasting.'
+
+"Yes, May, there is a brighter home in prospect. Earth's homes, the
+dearest and best, are only for a time—Heaven's homes are for an
+eternity. I came across a verse to-day, which I thought very beautiful:
+
+   "'What joys are lost, what promises are given,
+     As through this death-struck world we roam
+     Awhile we think that Home is Heaven,
+     At last we find that HEAVEN is HOME.'"
+
+"And we shall be together there, Howard," I said, "with no fear of
+separation."
+
+"Yes, thank God!" he answered. "This bright little earthly home is
+to us a faint foreshadowing of our heavenly home, where we shall be
+together with the Lord."
+
+"Yes," I said, "a happy, earthly home now, in this present time, and a
+brighter, more glorious home awaiting me above, to be mine throughout
+eternity. Was I not indeed right in my choice?"
+
+
+
+               ———————————————————————————————————————
+ Pardon & Sons, Printers, Paternoster Row, and Wine Office Court, E.C.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75393 ***
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+<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html lang="en">
+<head>
+    <meta charset="UTF-8">
+    <title>
+      Was I Right?, by Mrs. O. F. Walton │ Project Gutenberg
+    </title>
+   <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover">
+    <style>
+
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+          margin-left: 10% ;
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+</head>
+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75393 ***</div>
+
+<p>Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002">
+</figure>
+<p class="t4">
+<b>AT THE MANOR HOUSE.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h1>WAS I RIGHT?</h1>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+BY<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t1">
+MRS. O. F. WALTON<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+AUTHOR OF<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t4">
+<em>"Christie's Old Organ," "Peep Behind the Scenes," "Saved at Sea,"</em><br>
+<br>
+ETC.<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t4">
+56, PATERNOSTER Row; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD;<br>
+<br>
+AND 164, PICCADILLY.<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image005" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image005.jpg" alt="image005">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p class="t3b">
+CONTENTS.<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image006" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image006.jpg" alt="image006">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>CHAP.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_1">I. THE TWO LETTERS</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_2">II. MY CHOICE</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_3">III. WAS I WRONG?</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_4">IV. MAGGIE'S AUNTS</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_5">V. FIRST IMPRESSIONS</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_6">VI. ALLISTON HALL</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_7">VII. CONSCIENCE AT WORK</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_8">VIII. ALICE FITZGERALD</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_9">IX. WAS THE PROMISE BINDING?</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_10">X. EVELYN'S CONFESSION</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_11">XI. THE OPPORTUNITY GIVEN</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_12">XII. BRINDISI</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_13">XIII. WAS IT HE?</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_14">XIV. JERUSALEM</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_15">XV. MY OLIVE-LEAVES</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_16">XVI. A MYSTERY</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_17">XVII. SUNDAY ON MOUNT ZION</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_18">XVIII. THE MYSTERY SOLVED</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_19">XIX. WAS I RIGHT?</a></p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t2">
+<b>WAS I RIGHT?</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image007" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image007.jpg" alt="image007">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>THE TWO LETTERS.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image008" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image008.jpg" alt="image008">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;IT has often seemed very strange to me, that in moments
+of great anxiety or trouble, when our minds and our hearts are
+stretched to the uttermost, we notice with the keenest perception every
+little object around us. Each moving leaf, each nodding flower, catches
+our attention, and, years afterwards, we can remember, as distinctly as
+if it were yesterday, how everything looked in those sorrowful moments,
+when our minds were filled with thoughts of things and people far away.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There is one day in my life, which stands out from amongst the past as
+a day above all others to be remembered by me. And, as I look back to
+it, I see myself a girl of nineteen, sitting at my bedroom window, lost
+in thought and perplexity! I can see the garden just as it looked as I
+gazed out into it that afternoon—our quaint, old-fashioned garden, with
+its hedge of laurel bushes, and the large elm trees at the end of it,
+with the flickering light and shade underneath. I can see the rabbits
+from the plantations round, nibbling the grass on the lawn; and I can
+hear the trickling of the stream, which ran by the side of the house,
+in which Claude, and Maggie, and I used to float our boats, in the
+happy days when we were children. And now the old home must be left for
+ever, for Maggie and I had not a penny in the world!</p>
+
+<p>Our father had been the doctor in the village. It was a very poor
+place, and the people had never any money to spare. My father was too
+kind-hearted to press for payment, when he saw how hard it was for them
+to live; and so the years went by, and although his practice was large,
+he saved very little money. But even this small amount never came to
+us, for just before his death, the bank in which it was placed suddenly
+failed, and so, when he was gone, Maggie and I were penniless!</p>
+
+<p>Maggie was much younger than I was; she was my half-sister, and her
+mother died three weeks after she was born. She committed her little
+baby to me, when she knew that she must leave it; and from that day
+I became, as far as I was able, a mother to Maggie. I was a very
+little mother, for I was only seven years old; but a feeling of great
+responsibility and trust came over me, as I left the room where my
+stepmother was dying. I crept up to the nursery, and stroked the baby's
+face very gently, and felt as if she belonged to me from that moment.</p>
+
+<p>And now, Maggie and I were left without a penny in the world. For
+Maggie it was not of so much consequence. A letter had come from her
+old maiden aunts, her mother's sisters, to insist upon her going at
+once to live with them in the old Manor House at Brandon. Maggie would
+be happy, and cared for there; that was a great relief to my mind.
+Poverty and hardship would not cross the path of my little sister, and
+I was more than content that it should be so. But there was no such
+home in prospect for me. Maggie's aunts were, of course, not related to
+me, and my mother had been a friendless orphan, so I had no one to take
+compassion on me. Separated from the old home, separated from Maggie,
+life looked very cheerless to me in prospect.</p>
+
+<p>My mind was full of trouble and of perplexity, for on the table before
+me lay two letters, which must be answered before evening, and upon the
+answer to these letters would hang all my future life.</p>
+
+<p>I sat at my bedroom window, not knowing what to do. The clock ticked
+on, the hands were moving round, and my letters were still unanswered.</p>
+
+<p>It was then, that, as I gazed into the garden, every tiny object was
+imprinted on my mind. And I can remember that, as I was sitting there,
+the sun went behind a bank of heavy clouds, and all was gloomy and
+dismal in a moment. The rabbits ran back to their holes, the sunbeams
+fled from the lawn, the wind whistled drearily in the chimneys of the
+old house, and flapped the branches of the climbing rose-tree against
+my bedroom window. It seemed to me then very like the cloud which had
+come across my hitherto happy life. And now, what was before me? Joy or
+sorrow?</p>
+
+<p>It appeared to be left with me to decide. The two letters must be
+answered. The first of these was from an old governess of ours, a kind,
+good woman. I had written to tell her of my difficulties, and she wrote
+to advise me to apply for a situation as companion to a young lady of
+fortune, in answer to an advertisement which had just appeared in the
+"Times" newspaper. A fair salary was promised, and all expenses of
+travelling would be defrayed.</p>
+
+<p>That was one of the letters which I had to answer. That was one path of
+life which lay before me. It did not seem very bright in prospect. The
+position of a poor companion in a large household was certainly not one
+which I should have chosen for myself.</p>
+
+<p>I had said "Oh no!" instinctively, when I had first read the
+advertisement which Miss Morley enclosed. And yet, the more I thought
+of it, the more I felt that perhaps I ought to apply for the situation.
+It was clear that I must work for my living, in some way; I disliked
+teaching, so I felt that I was not fit to be a governess; perhaps,
+after all, this would be the very place for me.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, and yet, my heart shrank back from what might be the path of
+duty.</p>
+
+<p>For there was another letter on the table; another, and a very
+different letter. And this letter must be answered before I could
+at all decide about Miss Morley's proposal. I had read it so often
+during the day, that I knew every word of it. And now I must take up
+my pen and answer it. It opened out to me another path of life, a very
+different path from the former—a path which seemed as bright as the
+other was shady.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, ought I to take it? Was it right for me to choose this path?
+Should I indeed be happy if I decided upon it? Would it be really
+bright, really peaceful? What course should I take? What answer should
+I give?</p>
+
+<p>The letter was from Claude Ellis, my old playfellow and friend. He was
+the son of the clergyman of the village, his only child. Claude had no
+companions at home, and therefore when we were children we went, day
+by day, to the Parsonage, or Claude came to us, and we played together
+between the hours for lessons. Maggie was too small to join in our
+games, but she would sit on the grass near us, gathering daisies, and
+watching us as we floated our boats in the little stream, or ran races
+on the lawn. And then we grew older, and Claude was sent to school, but
+always in the holidays our old friendship was renewed, and we walked
+together, read together, and played together as before.</p>
+
+<p>But soon school days passed by, and Claude went to Oxford. I remember
+so well the day on which he came to say "Good-bye" to us before leaving
+home. He looked very handsome, and was full of spirits, and was so much
+looking forward to his college life.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie and I walked to the garden gate with him when he went away. And
+we talked of the time when he would come home again, and we should
+spend our days together as we had always done in the holidays. Then he
+went out, and the gate closed after him, and Maggie and I watched him
+down the road, and she waved her handkerchief to him till he was out of
+sight. And then we went back to the house, and I counted how many weeks
+must pass before the term would be ended, and Claude would be with us
+again.</p>
+
+<p>But a very short time after, Mr. Ellis, Claude's father, was taken
+ill, and the doctor ordered him to go abroad for the winter. So Claude
+spent his Christmas vacation at Mentone instead of at home. And then we
+looked forward to Midsummer.</p>
+
+<p>But Claude did not return home until the greater part of the long
+vacation was over. He was in Cornwall with a reading party, and did
+not come to the Parsonage until about three weeks before his return to
+Oxford. And so it came to pass, that Claude Ellis and I had not met for
+nearly a year.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"Claude is at home," said my father, one morning at breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is he?" said little Maggie. "How nice!"</p>
+
+<p>And I was very pleased also. I expected to see exactly the same Claude
+as I had parted from at the garden gate, a year ago; and I thought that
+all would go on just as it had done when he was a boy at school, and
+came home for the holidays.</p>
+
+<p>So when I saw him coming up the road, I ran into the garden to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Claude, I am glad to see you!" I cried, as soon as he opened the
+gate. And then, in a moment, I stopped short, and went up to him quite
+quietly, and giving him my hand, said in a very different voice: "How
+do you do, Claude; when did you come home?"</p>
+
+<p>For in a moment it flashed across me that Claude Ellis and I were
+not the same as we were when we had parted at that very gate a year
+ago. We were both older than we were then; our childhood was a thing
+of the past. Claude and I had grown out of the boy and girl into the
+young man and woman since we had last met. All this flashed across me
+in a moment, as I noticed the difference in Claude's dress, manners,
+and appearance, as he came in at the gate. And a chill came over me
+as I noticed it, and I wished that I had not run to meet him quite so
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, when he began to talk, I felt that he was in many ways the
+same Claude still, the same, but changed.</p>
+
+<p>Was he changed for the better? In many ways he was. He was more manly,
+and more gentleman-like, and had much to tell us of his college
+friends, and college life, which made him a more amusing and pleasant
+companion than before.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, there was another change in Claude, which I could not help
+noticing, in spite of my efforts not to do so. Claude Ellis was more of
+a man, more of a gentleman; but he was, yes, he certainly was, though I
+tried to persuade myself to the contrary, less of a Christian.</p>
+
+<p>Before Claude went to college, we had often talked together of
+the Bible, and he had explained to me many things which I did not
+understand. We used sometimes to sit on the garden seat on Sunday
+afternoons, and read a chapter together; and Claude used to talk so
+nicely about it, and I thought he loved the Lord Jesus, and wished to
+serve Him. He often spoke of the time when he would be old enough to be
+ordained, and when I should come to his church and hear him preach; and
+he told me what his first text would be, and how he had already written
+some pages of his first sermon.</p>
+
+<p>But after Claude's return I noticed a change in him. At first, he
+always avoided any mention of religious subjects, and when, either in
+his own home or ours, any allusion was made to them, he quickly turned
+the conversation to some other topic.</p>
+
+<p>I tried, for some days, to fancy that it was not because Claude had
+ceased to care for what he had loved before, but rather that his
+feelings had grown so much deeper and truer, that he felt things divine
+too sacred to be talked about. But before the vacation was over, I was
+obliged to admit to myself, however unwilling I was to believe it, that
+Claude's views and opinions were quite changed about religious matters;
+that he had begun to doubt what he had before received with childlike
+faith; that he had begun to despise and hold in contempt that which
+from his mother's knee he had learnt to love and reverence.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you have never been to Oxford, May," he said, rather
+contemptuously one day, when I was trying to prove something to him
+from the Bible. "You should read some books, which were lent to me
+by a man on my staircase. We are behind the times in this little,
+out-of-the-way place; the world is growing very clever and learned,
+and there are many things which we have always taken for granted about
+which there is really great doubt and uncertainty."</p>
+
+<p>"What things, Claude?" I said. "You do not surely mean—"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean parts of the Bible, May, and doctrines which are supposed to be
+proved from the Bible. But what is the use of talking about it to you?
+I don't want to unsettle your mind. If you like to believe it, and if
+it makes you happy, go on believing it, and be glad that you haven't
+read the books I have read."</p>
+
+<p>"But you, Claude?" I said, sorrowfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never mind about me, May, I am all right; I am a little wiser than
+you, that is all!"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you happier, Claude?" I ventured to ask.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know, May; I don't think happiness, which is based on a
+delusion, is much worth having."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Claude," I said, "it makes me wretched to hear you talk like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Then talk about something else, May," he said gaily; "you began the
+subject, not I."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Claude—"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, that will do, May!" he said impatiently. "We don't think alike
+about these subjects, simply because I know a great deal more about
+them than I did before I went away, or than you do now; so let the
+matter drop."</p>
+
+<p>I was very unhappy after this conversation with Claude. He gave me no
+opportunity of renewing it; but though he had not explained to me any
+of his doubts, he had left an uneasy, troubled feeling on my mind, a
+feeling which I could not shake off.</p>
+
+<p>When I went upstairs to bed that night, I sat down to think over what
+Claude had said. What if, after all, I was resting upon a delusion,
+building my happiness upon an unreality? What if, after all, my faith
+was in vain, my hope unfounded?</p>
+
+<p>Horrible doubts, such as I had never known before, came crowding into
+my mind. "Are these things so?" was the oft-repeated question of my
+heart. It was a sad awakening from the trust and implicit confidence
+of childhood; an awakening which, perhaps, comes to every thoughtful
+mind, when its faith is brought into contact, for the first time, with
+the intellect of this world; an awakening which leads us either into
+the terrible region of doubt and uncertainty, or into faith, far firmer
+than ever before, because based, not on mere childish impressions, but
+on the words and the being of the eternal God.</p>
+
+<p>In this state of perplexity I went to my bedroom window and looked out.
+It was a bright, starlight night, so I put out my candle, and sat by
+the window, gazing into the sky at the countless multitude of stars.</p>
+
+<p>Who had made all these mighty worlds? Who was keeping them all in their
+places, and making them fulfil the object for which they were created?</p>
+
+<p>I knew who it was; my faith in the existence of an Almighty God
+remained unshaken. I could never look around me on God's universe and
+doubt that God was.</p>
+
+<p>And then, as I looked at the stars, other thoughts came—thoughts of
+the majesty and wisdom and power of the God who had made all these;
+thoughts, too, of the smallness and insignificance of our own little
+world—in comparison with the rest of God's great universe a mere speck
+in space.</p>
+
+<p>And I—what was I?</p>
+
+<p>Only one of the beings which inhabited this tiny world; one of the
+smallest and least wise of all in God's universe! Who was I, that I
+should say to God, "Why doest Thou this?" Who was I, that I should
+presume to sit in judgment on anything in God's revelation?</p>
+
+<p>"His wisdom is unsearchable, His ways past finding out," was the
+language of my heart. I am but a little child,—how can I understand
+God's plans? I know so little, I understand so little, I see such a
+little way, either before me or behind me. How can I, then, expect to
+understand that which is understood fully only by God Himself?</p>
+
+<p>A feeling of my utter nothingness and insignificance in God's sight
+came over me so powerfully that I was almost crushed by it. Who was
+I—what was I, that I should dare to doubt what God had in wonderful
+condescension revealed to me, because of the vast amount of knowledge
+which was too wonderful for me; so high that I could not attain unto it?</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"O Lord," I said, as I looked up into the sky, "I will be content to
+be a little child, receiving Thy Word with childlike faith, and what
+my mind is too weak and small to understand fully, I will yet believe,
+because Thou hast told me, and because Thy Word must be true."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>And even as I said the words, this verse came into my mind:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know
+in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Then the day was coming when, in another world, my mind would be
+strengthened to understand these difficult matters which were now
+perplexing me—these things which I only knew in part, and which, for
+this very reason, just because I only knew a part of them, seemed to me
+so perplexing and mysterious.</p>
+
+<p>And then there was another thought which comforted me perhaps more
+than anything else, and it was this: I had proved the Bible to be
+true myself. I knew it was the Word of the God of truth by my own
+experience. I had prayed, and had received many an answer to my
+prayers. I had pleaded the promises, and had found them more than
+fulfilled to me in every hour of need. I had fallen back upon the grand
+old truths of the Bible in many a time of trouble, and had never found
+them fail me.</p>
+
+<p>A hundred books, written by the cleverest men on earth, could not
+convince me that the Bible was a mere human production; for I had
+found in it what I had found in no other book—peace for a troubled
+conscience, comfort in sorrow, victory over sin.</p>
+
+<p>I lay down to sleep that night reassured and comforted, and with my
+doubts entirely removed, and I do not remember that they ever returned
+to me.</p>
+
+<p>But Claude, what could I do for him? I could do nothing but pray for
+him, for he never gave me an opportunity of speaking to him again about
+what had so troubled me.</p>
+
+<p>His college days passed by, and every vacation that he was at home he
+came frequently to see us, and each time he came I felt more persuaded
+that his new views had not improved his character. He had occasionally
+an imperious and dictatorial manner, such as he had never had before,
+and he looked restless and dissatisfied, as if something was preying on
+his mind.</p>
+
+<p>And yet Claude was very kind to us, to Maggie and to me. He never came
+home without bringing us some little present, and he never seemed tired
+of our company.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image009" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image009.jpg" alt="image009">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image010" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image010.jpg" alt="image010">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>MY CHOICE.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image011" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image011.jpg" alt="image011">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;ONE day, about six weeks before the time at which my
+little story commences, I had been spending the day at the Parsonage.
+I did not often go there now, but Claude was away, and his aunt, Miss
+Richards, who had lived there since Claude's mother died, invited me
+to spend the afternoon with her. Claude had just left Oxford, and was
+staying for a few weeks with some friends in Scotland, before settling
+down at home.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>After dinner Miss Richards and I took our work into the little
+summer-house, and sat there until the evening. We talked on various
+subjects, the village, the people round, Mr. Ellis's health, and of
+many other things. And then we talked of Claude.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be very pleasant to have Claude at home," said Miss Richards;
+"the house is so dull when he is away."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "you must miss him very much, Miss Richards, but I
+suppose he will not be at home very long; when is he to be ordained?"</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer me at once, and when I looked up, I saw that her
+face was very troubled and sorrowful, as she bent over her work.</p>
+
+<p>"Claude will not be ordained, May," she said at length; "I think that
+is quite decided now."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, Miss Richards?" I asked in astonishment. "I thought that had
+been settled years ago, when Claude was a little boy."</p>
+
+<p>"It was only settled conditionally, May," she said. "Claude was to go
+into the ministry if it was his own wish to do so; his father would
+never press him into such work, if he did not feel drawn to it himself."</p>
+
+<p>"And Claude does not feel drawn to it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, he has written to his father most decidedly, giving up all idea
+of becoming a clergyman, and expressing his wish to study for the bar."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Mr. Ellis very disappointed, Miss Richards?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he is disappointed in one way, May, for he has made a great
+effort to give Claude a University education, in order to make him more
+fit for his work as a minister; but at the same time, he quite sees
+that with Claude's peculiar ideas (you know what I mean, May, those new
+views he has taken up at Oxford) his ordination is, at least for the
+present, out of the question."</p>
+
+<p>I made no answer, but went on diligently with my work.</p>
+
+<p>"Claude has been a great expense to his father," Miss Richards went
+on; "he has cost him many hundreds at Oxford, and bills are still
+coming in. He is young yet, you see, and I suppose all young men are
+extravagant. But it is a great pity that he let the bills run on for so
+long; some go as far back as his first term."</p>
+
+<p>"What does Claude say about it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he is always very much troubled when the bills come, for he sees
+that his father has not any money to spare, and he talks about the time
+when he will have money of his own at his uncle Charles's death, and
+when he will be able to repay all his father has advanced for him. And
+then he is quite certain that the tradesmen must have added a great
+deal which he never bought. But it is so long ago, May, nearly four
+years, so, of course, he cannot be sure of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very, very sorry," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and so are we," said Miss Richards; "but that anxiety is nothing
+to the other. Mr. Ellis would not mind how much money he had to pay, if
+only Claude had not taken up such rationalistic, infidel ideas."</p>
+
+<p>"Does he still hold those views?" I asked. "He spoke to me once about
+them, a long time ago, but I have heard nothing of it since. I hoped
+Claude had studied the other side of the question, and had grown wiser."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear," said Miss Richards, "he seems to me to get worse and
+worse. At first it was only some small parts of the Bible which he
+cavilled at, and which he maintained were not inspired; but when
+he once began to doubt, there was no knowing where he would stop
+doubting—he carried the same spirit of critical suspicion into
+everything."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely there are books written which would in a great measure
+answer Claude's doubts?" I suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, undoubtedly," said Miss Richards; "but it seems to me Claude
+prefers doubting, for he does not seem at all anxious to have his
+doubts cleared away. He does not want to have his mind satisfied, and
+so he either does not read books on the other side at all; or, if he
+reads them, he does so fully determined that his scepticism cannot be,
+and indeed must not be shaken. If Claude would only prayerfully desire,
+and prayerfully strive to have his doubts removed, I should have no
+fear about him."</p>
+
+<p>"I am so very sorry, Miss Richards," I said again.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, May, and so am I," said she. "I assure you that when I went
+upstairs into Claude's bedroom, when he was last at home, and found at
+the bottom of his box a number of his favourite books (the very names
+of some of which made me shudder), I sat down on a chair in his room,
+and had a good cry. I could not help it, May dear. For I thought of
+the little, trustful face, which used to be lifted to mine years ago,
+when I told him, for the first time, the beautiful stories out of the
+Book he now despises and scoffs at. I thought of the little voice which
+used to say the evening prayer at my knee, and which used, on Sundays,
+to repeat hymns and texts to me in this very summer-house. And then
+I thought of the small, black Bible, which, when he grew older, used
+always to be laid beside his pillow, that he might be able to read it
+as soon as it was light in the morning. I could see plenty of other
+books in Claude's room, May, but no Bible! I could not help going
+downstairs and bringing a Bible up to lay on the dressing-table, in
+case he might see and read it. Though, of course, it would do him no
+good, unless he came to it in a teachable spirit," she added, with a
+sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"But I have not lost hope for Claude yet," said Miss Richards, after a
+pause. "I believe that when he is older he will be wiser in many ways.
+And May," she said, "my great hope for Claude lies in you; you have
+more influence with him than any one has."</p>
+
+<p>"I? Oh no, Miss Richards; you are quite wrong there," I said. "He will
+never even speak to me on the subject."</p>
+
+<p>"No, perhaps not," said Miss Richards; "but your quiet, gentle, loving
+influence must have its effect in time."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Miss Richards, you are quite mistaken in supposing that I have
+any influence with Claude. I know when we were children together, and
+were like brother and sister to each other, I may have had some power
+over him, but it is quite different now."</p>
+
+<p>"You have tenfold more influence with Claude now than you had then,
+May," she said quietly; "to give you pleasure is the greatest joy of
+his life, to grieve you is his greatest pain."</p>
+
+<p>I felt my face growing very crimson as Miss Richards said this. She had
+put into words a fear which had been hidden away in my heart for some
+months—a fear that I had never dared, even in my own heart, to put into
+words—a fear that I was becoming more to Claude than a mere sister,
+and that he had plans and views for our future, his future and mine,
+which I could not, which I ought not, to entertain for a moment. And,
+because of this undefined fear, I had kept away from the Parsonage as
+much as possible during the vacations, and I had avoided Claude as much
+as our old friendship would allow me, until sometimes my conscience had
+accused me of rudeness and unkindness.</p>
+
+<p>But, after all, I had hoped it was but a fear. Claude loved me, it was
+true, I argued to myself, and liked to bring me presents, and to give
+me pleasure; but then it was only natural that he should do so, when we
+had been brought up together, and learnt together, and played together,
+and had had every thought and scheme in common. It was nothing more
+than that. So I had argued with myself. But Miss Richards's words had
+revived my old fear, and increased it a hundredfold.</p>
+
+<p>I was very glad when, a minute or two afterwards, the village clock
+struck five, and I could make an excuse to leave.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Richards had evidently noticed my embarrassment, for she said
+kindly, as she wished me good-bye:</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I have not troubled you, May dear, but my heart is so full of
+anxiety about Claude just now, that I have spoken perhaps more strongly
+than I ought to have done."</p>
+
+<p>I went home very perplexed and troubled, but the next day my thoughts
+were turned into an entirely fresh channel by the sudden illness of my
+dear father. I will not dwell upon the sad time which followed those
+days and nights of alternate hope and fear, and then the close to our
+watching, and the terrible realisation that Maggie and I were amongst
+the number of the fatherless children, prayed for, Sunday after Sunday,
+in the Litany.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Richards was very kind to me during that time of trouble, giving
+me advice and help as I needed them, and relieving me greatly from the
+sense of heavy responsibility which rested on me.</p>
+
+<p>Claude was still from home, but he wrote a kind little note of sympathy
+to me, when he heard of my father's death. He said he was very sorry
+that he was away at the time; had he been at home he would have done
+all in his power to save me any unnecessary care and anxiety in my time
+of sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>I tried to hope that this was only brotherly sympathy and kindness,
+such as Claude had always shown me from childhood. I answered the
+letter by a short note, thanking him for his kind expression of
+sympathy, and telling him a little of our future plans—how Maggie was
+going to live with her aunts in the old Manor House at Branston, and
+how I hoped very soon to obtain a situation as governess or companion,
+where I could earn enough money to keep me in comfort and independence.
+By return of post came a second letter from Claude. I almost trembled
+when I saw his handwriting on the envelope; I had not intended to
+open a correspondence with him. And when I took the letter from the
+envelope, and saw its length, I was still more troubled and afraid.
+Then I read the letter, and when I had read it once, I read it again,
+and yet again. And now this letter lay on the table before me, still
+unanswered, and post-time was drawing nearer and nearer. I looked at it
+once more, although I knew almost every word of it already.</p>
+
+<p>Claude began by stating his utter disapproval of my scheme of obtaining
+a situation as companion or governess. I was not fitted for it, and he
+would never allow it to be carried out. And then he went on to tell me
+that he had far different plans for my future—plans which had mingled
+with his boyish dreams, and which had been for years the one idea of
+his life.</p>
+
+<p>And then he told me how he loved me, how there was no one on earth that
+he had ever cared for except myself, and how he felt that the time had
+now come to make me his wife, and to take me to a home of my own, where
+I should be taken care of, and cherished, and loved, more than any wife
+had ever been before. He said it was hard for him to put into a letter
+all the feelings of his heart. He had never planned to tell me all this
+by writing, but he felt compelled to write off at once, as soon as
+he received my letter, and the more so as, by a curious coincidence,
+by the very same post he had heard of the sudden death of his uncle
+Charles, who had left him a large sum of money, quite sufficient,
+Claude said, to enable him to marry, and to take me to a comfortable
+home.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the week, he said, he hoped to be with me, but he could
+not wait till then to tell me all this, for he feared that I should in
+the meantime be answering some dreadful advertisement, and be making
+another and a very different engagement. He concluded by urging me to
+write by return of post, as he longed to know that the whole matter was
+finally settled and arranged.</p>
+
+<p>The more I read this letter, the more persuaded I felt that Claude
+never, for a single moment, entertained the possibility of my refusing
+him; he seemed to look upon it as a matter of certainty that I should
+be only too glad to do as he asked me. He was evidently utterly
+unprepared for anything but an immediate and hearty acceptance of his
+offer.</p>
+
+<p>And now what answer should I give? I pressed my throbbing temples, and
+tried to think the matter over calmly and deliberately.</p>
+
+<p>Did I love Claude Ellis? Yes, undoubtedly I loved him very much indeed;
+not in the same way, it is true, as I had imagined that I should love
+the one who was to become my husband, but still I loved him very
+warmly, us a sister loves a dear brother who has been everything to
+her since she was a little child. And surely a different kind of love
+for Claude might, and probably would, come in my heart after we were
+engaged.</p>
+
+<p>And although Claude was certainly not at all like the husband that I
+had pictured to myself in the days long ago, when I was foolish enough
+to indulge in day-dreams, and although even now, at times, I longed,
+oh, how much! for some one to lean on—some one very wise, very good,
+very true, and infinitely better in every way than I was; and I had
+never pictured Claude to myself as the one who was to be all this to
+me; yet still he would be a kind, loving husband, and I might be very
+happy if I were his wife.</p>
+
+<p>And I was so fond of Claude that I felt it would make me very miserable
+to feel that there was any estrangement or coldness between us, as
+there undoubtedly would be if I refused to be his wife. Our old
+friendship, which had lasted so long, would practically end, and when
+we met we should feel restrained and uncomfortable in each other's
+presence. I could not bear to think that such would be the case.</p>
+
+<p>And then Miss Richards—how anxious she evidently was that I should use
+my influence with Claude! What would she say if I were to refuse him?
+How strange she would think it! How grieved and disappointed she would
+be!</p>
+
+<p>And yet, with the thought of Miss Richards came the recollection of
+what she had told me of Claude, as we sat together in the arbour.
+Should I be happy with one as my husband who scorned the Book I loved
+best on earth, who slighted and neglected the Friend who was to me the
+chiefest among ten thousand?</p>
+
+<p>Should I be happy with no family prayer in my household, with no
+reading of the Word of God, and with religious topics for ever
+banished, because husband and wife thought so differently about them?
+Would the love between us be perfect, the confidence unsullied, when
+there was one subject—and that one the subject nearest to my heart—on
+which we had no communion; one Name, and that one the Name above every
+name, which neither of us ever mentioned to each other? Should I be
+really happy, really contented with such a state of things?</p>
+
+<p>And then came another question. Even supposing I should be happy, was
+it right for me to accept Claude's offer? Was it right in God's sight
+for me to marry one who was not a Christian? I knew there was a text
+somewhere in the Epistle to the Corinthians which spoke on this point.
+I opened my Bible and looked for it, and I found it in 2 Corinthians
+vi. 14:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what
+fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion
+hath light with darkness?"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>It was a very clear command, and could not be mistaken. And yet I tried
+to argue myself into the belief that it did not apply to me. For in the
+first place, I reasoned, Claude was not a heathen as these Corinthians
+were. He did not worship gods of wood and stone. He was looked upon as
+a Christian, and lived and had been brought up in a Christian family.
+But the word unbeliever, conscience answered, surely includes every one
+that is not a believer.</p>
+
+<p>Was Claude a believer? Could I honestly say that he was a true believer
+in the Lord Jesus Christ? Would Claude himself like to be thought a
+believer? Could I from my heart say that I thought Claude was safe in
+Christ, resting his soul on Christ for salvation? No, I was obliged
+sorrowfully to admit to myself that such was not the case. But then, I
+argued, I am not perfect. Oh, how cold and indifferent I am at times!
+How full of carelessness, and pride, and every kind of sin! Who am I,
+that I should set myself up to be better and more holy than Claude? Who
+am I, that I should say Claude is not good enough for me?</p>
+
+<p>And yet the line of distinction in the text was evidently drawn, not
+between perfect people and imperfect people, but between believers and
+unbelievers. Was I then a believer? That was the question: was I in
+deed and in truth a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ?</p>
+
+<p>I dared not say that I was not, for even as I asked myself the
+question, a day years ago came back to my mind, a day when Mr. Ellis
+had been giving us a Bible lesson and had spoken to us very solemnly
+about coming to Christ for ourselves, and that at once.</p>
+
+<p>I remembered how anxious and serious I had felt as I left the Bible
+class, and how I had come home and shut myself in this very room where
+I was now sitting. I remembered how I had closed the door behind me,
+and had resolved not to leave the room until I had laid my sins on
+Jesus, and had looked to Him by faith as my own Saviour. I remembered
+how all my sins had risen up before me that day as they had never done
+before; and how, one by one, I had taken them to Christ to be atoned
+for and forgiven.</p>
+
+<p>And then I remembered the peace which had followed, and how, for days
+afterwards, life had been entirely new to me, and my thoughts, and
+feelings, and wishes had been entirely different from what they were
+before. And since that time, though I had very often grown careless
+and indifferent, still I had never been happy when I was not walking
+closely with God, and I had always longed at such times to be back in
+the sunshine and light of His presence again. So then it seemed as if
+the command in the text did apply to me.</p>
+
+<p>But surely if I married Claude, I might use my influence with him for
+good. He loved me very much, and, as Miss Richards had said, I had more
+influence with him than any one had.</p>
+
+<p>Was it right for me to throw away this opportunity of doing good? Was
+there not a text which said that husbands, "who obey not the Word,"
+might yet, without the Word, be "won by the conversation of their
+wives?" And did not St. Paul say, "What knowest thou, O wife, whether
+thou shalt save thy husband?" Surely these verses justified me in
+thinking that if I married Claude, he might, through my influence,
+become a Christian.</p>
+
+<p>And yet when I turned to these passages, and read the context, I saw
+that they clearly referred to those wives who were converted after
+their marriage—that such were told not to leave their unbelieving
+husbands, but to remain in that state in which they were called, and to
+such, and to such alone, the promise about being the means of saving
+their husbands applied. It had evidently nothing whatever to do with
+those who were converted whilst they were still unmarried, nor did it,
+in the very slightest degree, overthrow the clear command I had just
+read:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers—"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>A command which applied to the unmarried believers, as plainly as the
+command in the first Epistle applied to the married ones.</p>
+
+<p>And, when I began to think the matter over, with a more unbiased mind,
+I was driven to the conclusion that Claude was far more likely to lead
+me away from Christ than I was to lead him to become a believer. For
+surely if I had not enough influence now to persuade him to love better
+things—now, when he was so anxious to win my favour,—surely afterwards,
+when he felt certain of my love, he would not be more likely to be led
+in an entirely different direction. Surely I should become worse, and
+Claude would become no better. I should be less of a believer, and he
+would remain still an unbeliever.</p>
+
+<p>To do evil, that good may possibly come, is entirely opposed to the
+whole teaching of the New Testament; nowhere is the faintest hope held
+out that such a course will result in good. And I could undoubtedly
+expect no blessing from God on my endeavours to lead Claude aright
+if I had acted in the face of God's command and had gone in direct
+opposition to His clear injunction:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>And so I felt, when I had thought the whole matter carefully over, that
+it came to this:</p>
+
+<p>Was I willing to shut Christ out from the first place in my heart, and
+put Claude there instead? Or, on the other hand, was I willing to give
+up Claude, and hold all the closer and firmer to Him who had for years
+been my hope and my refuge?</p>
+
+<p>Christ's love or Claude's! Which should I choose? I could not have
+both, for I felt that to have both was impossible. Choosing Christ, I
+should offend Claude; choosing Claude, I should forfeit the love and
+the favour of Christ. Christ or Claude—which?</p>
+
+<p>A verse, which I had learned as a child, came suddenly into my mind,
+and looking up to the sky above me, in which the sun was once more
+shining, I repeated it aloud, for it seemed exactly to express the
+earnest cry of my soul:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+"My heart is fixed, O God,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Fixed on Thee;<br>
+&nbsp;And my eternal choice is made,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Christ for me."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Christ for me. Christ's smile, Christ's favour, Christ's blessing;
+these are my choice. Whatever it costs me, I cannot, I will not, give
+them up.</p>
+
+<p>I knelt down, and thanked God from the bottom of my heart for showing
+me the clear, the sure, the right way for me to take. And then I took
+up my pen to answer Claude's letter.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image012" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image012.jpg" alt="image012">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image013" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image013.jpg" alt="image013">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>WAS I WRONG?</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image014" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image014.jpg" alt="image014">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;IT was not an easy task to answer that letter, for I did
+not wish to wound Claude or to pain him, and I felt sure he would be so
+utterly unprepared for what I felt obliged to say.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Lest I should in any way raise his hopes, I began at once by telling
+him how difficult I felt it to write, and how much it cost me to tell
+him that what he had asked me to do in his letter was quite impossible.
+I thanked him for all his love for me, and for the kind way in which
+he had spoken of me; but I made it as clear as possible that, though I
+hoped always to remain his friend and sister, yet I could not be his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p>I did not tell him my exact reason for refusing him, for I felt that
+Claude would not in the least degree understand it; but I told him that
+my mind was fully made up, and I begged him at once to dismiss the idea
+of it from his own mind. I tried to write very decidedly and yet very
+kindly, and with the remembrance of our old friendship and love vividly
+impressed on my mind.</p>
+
+<p>I ended by expressing my sorrow for giving him pain, and my earnest
+hope for his future happiness. I begged him to let no coldness and
+estrangement come between us on account of this, but to let our old
+friendship be strengthened and increased rather than weakened and
+lessened.</p>
+
+<p>I was not at all satisfied with this letter when it was finished, but
+there was no time to rewrite it, for post-time was close at hand, and
+the advertisement in the "Times" newspaper must be answered at once, or
+I should lose the situation.</p>
+
+<p>When both the letters were gone, I tried to dismiss the subject from
+my mind, and when it came back to me, I endeavoured to turn my tired
+thoughts into prayer, and in this way found comfort and relief.</p>
+
+<p>The following afternoon, as I was writing letters in the little
+schoolroom, which was the next room to my bedroom, and the window of
+which also looked out over the garden to the hills beyond, I heard a
+hasty step on the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie was spending the day with a playfellow of hers in the village,
+and it was not Maggie's step. No, I knew the step well, and my heart
+beat fast, and I felt myself growing paler and paler every moment.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, and Claude entered without any ceremony. He looked
+tired and troubled, and his clothes were covered with dust from his
+long journey.</p>
+
+<p>"May," he said, "I got your letter this morning, and I have come off
+at once. The Fitzgeralds thought I was mad, I believe; I started up
+from the breakfast-table and said I must catch the nine o'clock train.
+But I could not have waited another day; it would have been utterly
+impossible, May."</p>
+
+<p>I tried to speak, but my heart was beating so quickly now that my words
+seemed as if they would choke me.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, May," Claude said, hurriedly, sitting down by my side and
+taking my hand, "I want you to tell me what you meant by that cruel
+letter you sent me; or, rather, I want you to tell me that it was all
+a mistake, all a delusion, that you have thought better of it since,
+and that you wish you had never written it. I want you to tell me, May,
+darling," he said in a lower voice, "that the dream of my life is to be
+changed into a reality this very week. I want you to tell me that the
+bright days which I have always said were in store for us both are now
+close at hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Claude, dear Claude," I said, as soon as I was able to speak, "you
+have my answer; as a sister, as a friend, I will always love you, but I
+cannot, cannot be your wife."</p>
+
+<p>"And pray why not, May?" he said, impatiently rising, and walking
+towards the window. "What absurd idea have you got in your head now?
+Who, or what is to hinder you from becoming my wife, I should like to
+know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Claude, I cannot," I said; and the tears would come, in spite of all
+my efforts to keep them back.</p>
+
+<p>"But what is your reason, May?" he said, pacing up and down the room.
+"You must have some reason for what you say, and I cannot rest till you
+tell me what it is. What is it, May?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had rather not tell you all my thoughts about it, Claude," I said;
+"it would be very difficult, and would cost us both much pain. And
+Claude," I said, earnestly, "it would do no good; my mind is quite
+made up: I cannot do as you ask me, so please do not press me for the
+reason, Claude."</p>
+
+<p>"But I will know it, May," he said, almost angrily. "I am not going
+home till you have told me; so you had better let me hear it at once."</p>
+
+<p>And then I felt that, perhaps, it was sinful cowardice which made me
+afraid to tell Claude my reason; perhaps I was grieving my dear Lord
+and Master by being ashamed of Him, by being ashamed to tell Claude
+what it was that I held far more dear than his love for me, even the
+priceless, the everlasting love of my Lord. And yet how could I do it?
+Claude unexpectedly came to my help.</p>
+
+<p>"May," he said, quickly, "do you love any one better than me—is that
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Claude," I said, in a low voice; "there is one love which I hold
+more dear than yours—that is it."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is it, May?" he said, impatiently. "I didn't know you knew any one
+else well enough; who can it be?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is no one on earth, Claude," I said; "I mean the Lord Jesus Christ."</p>
+
+<p>"What nonsense, May!" he exclaimed. "Whatever in the world has that to
+do with it? I am not going to interfere with your religion; you may be
+as religious as ever you please—a perfect saint if you like; I won't
+hinder you. So now put all those absurd notions out of your head, and
+let us talk about the future. That matter is settled; you shall be
+twice as religious after you are married as you were before."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Claude, it is not settled," I said; "you know I could not expect
+to be happy, or to enjoy God's presence, if I was disobeying His clear
+command."</p>
+
+<p>"And pray what command do you mean?" said Claude. "Really, May, this is
+too absurd!"</p>
+
+<p>I opened the Bible and handed it to him; there was a mark against the
+verse in the Epistle to the Corinthians, and his face clouded over as
+he read the words.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish that verse was cut out of every Bible in the world," he said,
+angrily; "I wonder how many people's happiness has been ruined by it;
+and it is perfectly ridiculous! Why, May, you don't even understand the
+wording of the text; you can't even read it in Greek, and yet you are
+going to overthrow all my plans and schemes for the future, and spoil
+all my happiness in the world, just for the sake of that one obscure
+verse."</p>
+
+<p>I could not help noticing how much Claude dwelt on his own plans, and
+schemes, and happiness in the world, and how he looked at the matter
+quite from his own point of view, and not at all from my side of the
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Claude," I said, calmly, "I cannot read it in Greek, but I
+understand quite enough of it to make me quite sure that if I were
+to consent to marry you, I should be grieving my best Friend, by
+disobeying His clear command."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, May, that just shows you know nothing at all about it," he said.
+"That verse has no more to do with you than it has with that table; it
+was spoken to the Corinthians, who, before Paul preached to them, were
+an ignorant lot of heathens, and all it means is, that Christians are
+not to go and marry heathens. I'm not a heathen, bad as you seem to
+think me."</p>
+
+<p>"But," I answered, "it says unbelievers, and surely that means those
+who are not believers. Claude, are you a real believer in the Lord
+Jesus Christ? Can you honestly say that you are? Would you like to be
+called a believer by the world?"</p>
+
+<p>Claude could not answer this question, so he quickly turned the
+conversation into quite a different channel.</p>
+
+<p>"And so you set up yourself as too good for me, May, that's what it is!
+You think yourself far too saintly to be joined to a poor heathen like
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Claude, indeed it is not that," I said; "indeed it is not. I am
+not good at all; very, very far from it; but I do trust that I have
+come to the Lord Jesus, and that I believe in Him. Yes, though I am
+very imperfect and sinful, oh, Claude, I do hope that I am a believer,"
+I said, with tears in my eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, darling," said Claude, in quite a different tone, "I know you are
+everything good; I sometimes wish I were more like you. Won't you help
+me to become better, May? Won't you save me from myself, and teach me
+to love what you love? Come, May, it is my last chance; surely you will
+not refuse me?"</p>
+
+<p>And Claude took hold of my hand, and looked up pleadingly into my face.</p>
+
+<p>It was a dreadful temptation, and a fierce struggle was going on
+in my mind. Whilst Claude had been angry and impatient it had been
+comparatively easy to be firm, but now, now that his voice was so
+pleading and so tender, now that his hand was laid so lovingly upon
+mine, now that his eyes were actually full of tears, I felt my
+resolution giving way, my faith failing.</p>
+
+<p>What if, after all, Claude was right? What if I might be indeed the
+means of leading him to better things? Miss Richards seemed to think
+so, and Miss Richards was a good woman.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, my conscience told me plainly enough, that the opinion of a
+good woman could not make a wrong action right. Was it right or wrong
+in the sight of God? That was the question, and every time I put it to
+my heart, the same answer came, in clear, unmistakable terms:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>I saw the path of duty clearly before me, a hard and difficult path,
+so hard and so difficult that I nearly despaired of ever being able to
+tread it.</p>
+
+<p>The temptation was indeed fierce and strong, and I was on the point of
+yielding. Claude saw this and spoke still more tenderly, and pressed
+the advantage he had gained as far as possible.</p>
+
+<p>I darted up one earnest, imploring cry to my Lord for help. My prayer
+did not, even in thought, resolve itself into words, but it was the
+language of my innermost soul. And it was not left unanswered. Four
+words came into my mind at that moment, which enabled me to gain the
+victory.</p>
+
+<p>As clearly as if the sunbeams which were streaming in at the window had
+written them on the wall of the room, these four words flashed across
+me:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+"FOR MY NAME'S SAKE."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Ah! Here was a motive, strong enough to enable me to overcome the
+greatest temptation; here was a motive, strong enough to enable me to
+conquer all those desires and wishes of my heart, which were urging me
+into disobedience to my Lord's command.</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"For My Name's sake; is it too much to bear for Me?"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>I heard Him ask me; and, in a moment, all His infinite love for me,
+all His self-denial for my sake, all His travail of soul, all that
+He underwent to save me, and bless me, crowded upon my mind, and was
+followed by the question—</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+"All this I bore for thee,<br>
+&nbsp;What canst thou bear for Me?"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>My mind was made up; I would parley with the temptation no longer.</p>
+
+<p>I drew my hand away from Claude's, gently, but firmly. "Claude," I
+said, "do not let us make each other more miserable, by going over and
+over the same ground. You will never be able to move me. I can only
+repeat what I have told you before. As a sister, as a friend, I will
+always love you, but I cannot be your wife. Claude," I went on, as he
+was beginning to speak, "that is my final answer, so please say no more
+about it."</p>
+
+<p>I suppose I spoke very decidedly, though I had tried to speak calmly,
+for Claude was very angry. A change passed over his face in an instant;
+I do not think he had dreamt for a single moment that I should be able
+to withstand his arguments and his persuasions.</p>
+
+<p>He walked to the window and looked out on the garden below.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I am to look upon this as final, May?" he said, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Claude, as quite final," I replied; "you will never be able to
+move me from my resolution, dear Claude. But you will not let our old
+friendship end, will you? Why should we not be brother and sister to
+each other still?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! There are two sides to that question," said Claude, proudly. "I
+keep out of the way of those who think themselves too good to associate
+with me. There are plenty of other people who will be glad of my
+friendship."</p>
+
+<p>And so Claude left me without another word. He went out of the room,
+slamming the door after him, and a moment afterwards I saw him hastily
+cross the lawn, and go out at the garden gate. And I knew, as well as
+if I could read the future, that that was the last time I should see
+him pass through that gate.</p>
+
+<p>For Claude's was a proud, imperious nature, and the more I thought the
+matter over, the more I felt sure that his pride was wounded, quite
+as much, if not more, than his affection. He had thought it next to
+impossible that any one, and above all a poor, friendless girl like
+myself, should refuse to be his wife. He had found he was mistaken, and
+he was mortified and vexed at the discovery.</p>
+
+<p>When I was left alone, I felt as if I had gone through a great storm,
+and had come out of it wearied and exhausted. My mind was too tired
+even to pray. I pushed aside the letters I was writing, and looked out
+over the distant hills. But after a time, when I was calmer and in a
+more restful state of mind, I opened my Bible at the place where it had
+been so often opened the last two days, and read again my Master's word
+of command.</p>
+
+<p>And then I was enabled, though with tears in my eyes, to thank Him that
+through His grace I had been strengthened to keep it.</p>
+
+<p>This time I read the whole passage through to the end of the chapter.</p>
+
+<p>The last two verses were the very words I needed just then:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and
+touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and will be a
+Father unto you, and ye shall be My sons and daughters, saith the Lord
+Almighty."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>The Master's call—"Come out from among them." The Master's promise—"I
+will receive you."</p>
+
+<p>If He said, "Go out from among them," it would have been so much harder
+to obey. But He does not say "Go," but "Come"—Come out; come to Me—"I
+will receive you."</p>
+
+<p>Come out to Me, and I will be a Father unto you, and you shall be My
+children, My sons and My daughters. Come out to Me; come out, not unto
+loneliness, and orphanhood, and desolation, but come out to Me, to a
+Father's love, to a Father's sympathy, to a Father's home. Come and be
+My sons and daughters, the sons and daughters of a King—the King of
+kings. Come then out from among them. Leave that transient, earthly
+affection, which is, as it were, but for a moment. Come to Me, and I
+will receive you, and will give you far more than what you will have
+to leave behind, far more than you have ever even hoped for from the
+purest of earthly loves. I will give you Myself—My love, My everlasting
+love, My soul-satisfying love.</p>
+
+<p>Is not the exchange worth making? Is not the coming out fully
+recompensed by the loving reception?</p>
+
+<p>I looked up into the sky, in which the sun was fast setting, and said
+with a thankful heart,—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Lord, by Thy grace I have come out; I have given up the affection
+which would have drawn me away; I have separated myself from the love
+which, however sweet, would have cut me off from Thy presence and from
+Thy love."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>And, even as I said this, the Master's answer came with tenderest
+comfort to my heart:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I will receive you, nay, I have already received you, and I will be a
+Father unto you, and you shall be My child, My daughter, saith the Lord
+Almighty."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>I heard Maggie's voice at this moment, so I hastily rose, wiped away
+the tears which were now only tears of joy and thankfulness, and went
+to meet her.</p>
+
+<p>"How happy you seem to-night, May," she said, as we sat together at
+supper; "you have not looked so happy since—since—" Her lip quivered,
+and tears came into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>I held out my arms to her, and she came and sat on my knee, as she used
+to do when she was a little child, laid her head on my shoulder, and
+sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Maggie darling?" I asked, stroking her long, fair hair
+with my hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May," she sobbed, "if only we could be together; if only I had
+not to go away and leave you. I counted the days this morning on the
+almanack, and there are only nineteen more."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little Maggie!" I said. "What shall I do without you?"</p>
+
+<p>"And what shall I do without you, May?" she said. "My aunts are very
+kind, but they are not like you; you are just like a mother to me. I
+shall never be a good girl, May, when I haven't you to talk to me, and
+when I can't tell you all my troubles."</p>
+
+<p>"But you can tell Jesus, Maggie," I said, "just as you have always told
+me, and He will help you and comfort you far, far better than I could
+do."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, May," she said, putting up her face to be kissed, "I will tell
+Him every day; I promise you that I will."</p>
+
+<p>"And then you can write to me, Maggie," I said. "Look here what I have
+bought for you. I had meant to have kept it till the last day, but
+perhaps I had better give it to you now."</p>
+
+<p>I went to a drawer and brought out a neat little desk filled with
+paper, envelopes, pens, stamps, and everything necessary for
+letter-writing.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie was charmed with it, and was quite as merry as she had been sad
+before, and began to plan at once how many letters she would write me
+every week, and what she would say in them. She said she should tell
+me everything, even what time she got up every morning and went to bed
+every night.</p>
+
+<p>Dear little Maggie! How well I can picture her to myself as she looked
+on that memorable evening in my life, on which I had refused to be
+Claude Ellis's wife.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image015" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image015.jpg" alt="image015">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image016" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image016.jpg" alt="image016">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>MAGGIE'S AUNTS.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image017" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image017.jpg" alt="image017">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;THOSE last days which Maggie and I spent together in
+the old home were very happy ones. I took every opportunity I had of
+deepening in my little sister's mind the lessons I had tried to teach
+her from a child, and which she had always loved so much. I had great
+reason to hope that they had not been in vain, but that my dear little
+Maggie was in deed and in truth a child of God.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>We were very busy sorting and packing our various possessions, and
+leaving all in the house in readiness for the sale which was to take
+place immediately we left.</p>
+
+<p>I had received a satisfactory answer to my application for the post of
+companion, saying that Sir William Trafford, after due inquiries of my
+referees, would be glad of my services as companion to his daughter,
+Miss Evelyn Trafford, and would be glad to know on what day I should be
+able to commence my duties at Alliston Hall.</p>
+
+<p>I did not see Claude again before I went away. The day after his visit
+to me I heard that he had again left home, and had returned to his
+friends in Scotland.</p>
+
+<p>The evening before we left Acton, I went up to the Parsonage to say
+good-bye. Miss Richards received me very kindly, but we were both
+constrained in our manner, for we were thinking of the same thing,
+and neither of us liked to mention it. We spoke of the weather, of my
+future plans, of the sale of the furniture, of Mr. Ellis's health,
+and of a variety of other things and people; but Claude's name was
+carefully avoided, and that which was filling our thoughts was entirely
+kept out of the conversation. So it was no wonder that our talk flagged
+at times, and that we were very far from being natural or at our ease.</p>
+
+<p>Just as I was leaving, I remembered how kind Miss Richards had been to
+me through my motherless life; always ready to help me with her advice
+whenever I needed help, and very patient in listening to the small home
+worries which had crowded upon me when I first took upon myself the
+cares and responsibilities of housekeeping.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Richards," I said, "you have been like a mother to me; I shall
+never, never be able to thank you enough for all you have been to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, May," she said, warmly, "you must not speak of that; you have
+been quite as much, or more to me, dear. You have been a bright sunbeam
+here, May. You have often brightened my life since I came here."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Richards," I said, "I never dreamt that I could make you any
+happier."</p>
+
+<p>"You did it without dreaming then, dear," she said, smiling; "and,
+May," she added, "what has passed between you and Claude will make no
+difference in your love to me, will it? You will still treat me as a
+friend, and let me hear from you sometimes, won't you, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Richards," I said; "will you let me write to you? Then you
+are not very angry with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Angry with you! Why?" she said. "For refusing Claude?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "for giving Claude the answer I did."</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear," said Miss Richards; "I was very much surprised, I own, and
+very much disappointed. I had counted so much on your influence with
+Claude, and was building my hopes on it far more than I ought to have
+done. But since then, May, I have sometimes thought that, perhaps, I
+ought not to blame you. I felt that I had been looking at the matter
+entirely from my point of view—mine and Claude's—and that, perhaps,
+dear, you had a reason for refusing Claude, a reason of which I should
+not and could not disapprove. May," she said, taking my hand very
+kindly, "would you mind telling me your reason?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you know it already, Miss Richards," I said, as I pressed her
+hand in mine.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it because Claude is not truly a Christian, dear; is that your
+reason?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that is it," I said; "I dare not have said 'yes' to Claude, Miss
+Richards, in the face of God's clear command. I felt I could expect no
+happiness or blessing if I were so disobedient."</p>
+
+<p>"You were quite right, dear May," said Miss Richards, with tears in her
+eyes; "I should have done just the same. Indeed once, May (you will not
+mention it to any one, I know), I did exactly the same myself. It was
+very hard at the time," said the good little woman, as the recollection
+of that sorrow, now so far behind her in her past life, came as fresh
+as if it had only taken place yesterday; "it was very hard at the time,
+for I loved him very much, but I can see it was all right now. I should
+have been a miserable, unhappy wife, if I had married him, and I can
+thank God that I gave him up."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you can understand how I felt, dear Miss Richards," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," she said, earnestly; "and as soon as that thought
+occurred to me, as soon as ever it came into my mind, that that was
+your reason for refusing Claude, I felt, dear, that you were right, and
+I was wrong. You were right, perfectly right in obeying God's command;
+and I was wrong, very wrong, May, in wishing you to marry one who is
+not, I know, a real Christian."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Richards kissed me very lovingly, as she said this, and I went
+home with a light and thankful heart.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Miss Richards! I had never dreamt that there was a touching
+little love story hidden away somewhere in her past history. I had
+never dreamt that that was the reason why she had never married, but
+had lived that quiet, unselfish life in her brother's house—living for
+all around her. And I was very thankful that she thought I had acted
+rightly, and would no longer blame me, but would be able and ready to
+sympathise with me in my trial.</p>
+
+<p>The busy time of packing and leave-taking was at length over, and
+Maggie and I left our first and hitherto our only home.</p>
+
+<p>It is a merciful ordering that at such times we are far too busy, and
+full of thought and care about the present moment, to realise what
+would otherwise overwhelm us with sorrowful feeling. As we drove off
+from our old home, we had to turn back for a forgotten key, and then,
+almost directly afterwards, we arrived at the station, and I had to
+take the tickets, look after the luggage, and select a carriage. My
+mind was consequently so full of business, that not until the train had
+started did I realise that Maggie and I had left our dear happy home,
+never to return to it again.</p>
+
+<p>We were going that day to the old Manor House at Branston, where
+Maggie's aunts lived. They had kindly expressed a wish to see me, and
+had invited me to spend a week with them before going to Alliston Hall.
+Maggie was of course delighted at this arrangement, and I was not
+sorry to have a week's rest, after the whirl of the last month, before
+entering upon my new duties.</p>
+
+<p>This was my first visit to the old Manor House, but Maggie had spent
+a very pleasant month there two years before, and was much looking
+forward to seeing her aunts again.</p>
+
+<p>We had a long journey, and it was late in the evening when we arrived
+at Branston.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think John will be here," said Maggie, as we got out at the
+very quiet country station.</p>
+
+<p>John was there, awaiting our arrival. John was a fat,
+comfortable-looking old coachman, who had been in the family for more
+than fifty years, and looked as if, in the whole course of them, he had
+never had one single day's hard work.</p>
+
+<p>John was driving two horses equally fat, equally comfortable-looking,
+and equally, by their appearance, denying the bare idea of their ever
+having had any hard work to do.</p>
+
+<p>John touched his hat, and bade the ladies welcome, and hoped "Missy"
+was quite well. He was evidently quite at his ease, and accustomed to
+be regarded as a family friend.</p>
+
+<p>We thanked John, and answered his inquiries, and then took our seats
+in the carriage. It was very old, like John, and quite out of date, of
+unwieldy proportions, and made a great noise in the world.</p>
+
+<p>We drove for about a mile and a half, through rather an uninteresting
+country; at least, so it seemed to me, after the wooded hills and
+pretty valleys which had surrounded our dear old home. He went very
+slowly indeed, and when there was the slightest rising in the ground,
+the horses walked solemnly and cautiously up it, and I was more than
+ever convinced that the opinion I had formed about the easy life that
+those two comfortable-looking horses had always led was perfectly
+correct.</p>
+
+<p>At last we went through a large iron gate, and entered a pretty
+old-fashioned garden, surrounded by a high wall. At one end of this
+garden stood the Manor House, a quaint old place, built of red brick,
+and partly covered with ivy.</p>
+
+<p>As we drove past the window, Maggie's three aunts looked out, and
+nodded and smiled at us; they did not come out to meet us, for, as I
+afterwards discovered, they were very much afraid of taking cold, and
+never ventured into the hall when the front door was open.</p>
+
+<p>We were met on the steps by an elderly, old-fashioned servant, in a
+clean white apron and a large cap, plaited round her face. She took
+us into the drawing-room, which was full of quaint and antiquated
+furniture, and abounded in sofas and arm-chairs, covered with very
+old-fashioned chintz.</p>
+
+<p>In this room the three aunts were anxiously awaiting our arrival. They
+almost overwhelmed us with kindness, and insisted on our lying down to
+rest for half an hour on the comfortable sofas till tea was quite ready.</p>
+
+<p>The room was very hot, there was a large fire, and huge screens stood
+before the doors, and sandbags and curtains excluded every possible
+draught from the windows. I felt very tired and worn out in mind and
+body, so I was not sorry to obey my kind hostesses and remain quiet for
+half an hour. It gave me time to think over the events of the past day,
+and also to look at Maggie's three aunts, who did not leave the room
+but went on with their work and their talk whilst we were resting.</p>
+
+<p>The eldest sister, Miss Jane, was evidently the ruling spirit in the
+house. Her word was law, and her quiet firm decision settled every
+disputed question. There was plenty of firmness, plenty of good sense,
+plenty of real kindliness in her face, as she bent over the stocking
+which she was knitting in the most energetic manner, sitting in one of
+the large arm-chairs near the fire.</p>
+
+<p>The second sister seemed to me to be a weak reflection of the eldest
+one, and, I soon found out, was quite ruled by her in everything,
+for she had not strength of character to settle anything on her own
+responsibility. If Miss Jane's word was law to her household, it was
+more especially law to Miss Hannah.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think, sister?" was the question repeated by her many
+times in the day, in answer to which Miss Jane would give her opinion
+calmly and decidedly, and that opinion was always conclusive.</p>
+
+<p>The youngest sister, Miss Louisa, was considered an invalid. The best
+of everything was always given to her—the most comfortable chair and
+the warmest corner, the best seat in the carriage, and at all hours of
+the day little tempting dishes were brought up to induce Miss Louisa to
+eat. Miss Jane and Miss Hannah were never tired of waiting on her, and
+treated her almost like a spoiled child.</p>
+
+<p>They were very kind to me, these three sisters, during my stay in the
+old Manor House. They even said how much they wished I would make my
+home with them; but, of course, I could never dream of being a burden
+to them; it was very kind of them to take Maggie, I must make my own
+way in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Everything in the Manor House was in the most beautiful order. The
+carpets looked as if in the whole course of their existence they had
+never known what it was to have a speck of dust or piece of cotton
+left on them; the furniture was so bright that you could see yourself
+reflected in every part of it; the drugget on the stairs was spotlessly
+white, as clean as if it was washed every morning regularly; in
+fact, the most perfect neatness, and order, and cleanliness reigned
+everywhere throughout the old Manor House. There were no little
+children to make dirty foot-marks on the clean floors, or to soil
+the clean coverings of the chairs and sofas. And the regularity and
+punctuality in the house quite equalled its neatness and order. At
+exactly the same moment every morning Miss Jane came downstairs to make
+the tea. At exactly the same instant, day by day, the old servants
+came into the room for prayers. Meals were never a moment late—as the
+clock struck we all took our seats, and grace was immediately said. At
+exactly the same hour, every day, the sisters took their morning drive
+or their afternoon nap.</p>
+
+<p>The whole place seemed like some huge clock which had been wound up
+years ago, long before any one could remember, and which had been going
+on and on and on ever since, without once needing to be wound up, or
+set going, or looked after again.</p>
+
+<p>This regular, unbroken, undisturbed life in the old Manor House was
+very pleasant for a little time. It was just what I needed, after all I
+had gone through lately. But I fancied that I should soon grow rather
+tired of it. I fancied that I should long for the doorbell to ring, and
+an interruption to come in my clockwork existence. I should long for a
+little of the stir and bustle and motion of the world outside, to creep
+into the monotony and unchangeableness of the life within.</p>
+
+<p>Small matters, even the most insignificant trifles, became great events
+to the sisters. If one of the cows or horses took cold, or if a tree
+was blown down in the garden, or if the rooks built a new nest in the
+plantation, it was the topic of conversation for days.</p>
+
+<p>I was a little troubled as I looked forward and pictured to myself the
+kind of training which Maggie would have in such a home. I was afraid
+it would be rather relaxing to her mind and energies, so that if she
+came out of it into the coldness and roughness of the outside world she
+would feel the difference very strongly, and would not be hardy enough
+to stand it.</p>
+
+<p>I was not afraid that Maggie would be dull here, for she was a quiet
+child, and fond of playing alone, and making her own amusements and
+pleasures; and there was a small farm close by, kept by old John and
+his wife, which was Maggie's constant resort, and here, amongst the
+chickens, and ducks, and lambs, and calves, and pigeons, she found
+plenty to interest her, and plenty of recreation and amusement. The
+aunts were exceedingly kind to her, and I felt sure they would train
+and teach her to the best of their ability.</p>
+
+<p>But what I was afraid of was, that Maggie's mind would got a little
+cramped by the smallness of the sphere in which she was living, and
+that she would thus become somewhat selfish and self-indulgent. Yet all
+these fears I carried one by one to my Lord, as they arose; and I felt
+unspeakable comfort and relief in placing my little sister under His
+Almighty care.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Jane was my favourite amongst the sisters. There was something in
+her face which made me trust her at once, and her good common sense and
+real heartfelt sympathy could always be relied upon. I found myself,
+almost before I was aware, giving her a history of our happy home-life,
+and telling her many of my anxieties and troubles, as I thought of the
+future. She made me promise that whenever I had a holiday given me I
+would come to the Manor House, and that I would remember that it would
+never be anything but a very great pleasure to them all to have me
+there.</p>
+
+<p>On Sunday we all went to the village church together. A new clergyman
+had just been appointed, and the sisters were hardly in a frame of mind
+to enjoy the services, for they had not ceased mourning over the late
+rector, who had been there for forty years, and who had been obliged to
+resign on account of ill-health. But as I had no recollections of the
+previous minister, and, therefore, no painful feelings on seeing the
+new minister enter Mr. Baker's pulpit, preach from Mr. Baker's Bible,
+and take possession of Mr. Baker's congregation, the service was a real
+delight to me.</p>
+
+<p>The young clergyman was plain in appearance, but he had a broad, high,
+thoughtful forehead, and he was evidently thoroughly in earnest.</p>
+
+<p>The sermon went to my heart; it was on this text:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"To be spiritually minded is life and peace."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>I came out of church feeling that the sermon I had just heard was
+one which I could not discuss or remark upon, but was one which I
+should never forget. It was a searching, practical sermon, and it
+had probed my heart to its very depths. What did I know of this
+spiritual-mindedness, of which Mr. Claremont spoke? What did I know
+of the life and peace which always spring from it? I felt that my
+thoughts, my motives, and my desires were far too much of the earth,
+earthy, far too little raised above the earth to things divine. And
+hence the want of life in my religion, hence the want of that deep and
+abiding peace which is the portion of all true believers in Jesus. I
+determined to pray more than ever before for this heavenly-mindedness,
+and to let my thoughts dwell less on earth, more on heaven.</p>
+
+<p>The next day Mr. Claremont called at the Manor House, and was received
+by the sisters with all respect and dignity. I was practising on the
+drawing-room piano when he came in, and was alone with him for a few
+minutes, whilst Miss Jane, Miss Hannah, and Miss Louisa were arraying
+themselves in their best caps.</p>
+
+<p>He spoke to me very pleasantly, and I took the opportunity of
+mentioning Maggie to him, and he kindly promised to see her sometimes,
+and try to influence her aright.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image018" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image018.jpg" alt="image018">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image019" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image019.jpg" alt="image019">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>FIRST IMPRESSIONS.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image020" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image020.jpg" alt="image020">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;IT was the day before I left the old Manor House. I was
+packing my box in my bedroom, and thinking it would be rather hard to
+leave the kind sisterhood, and my little Maggie, and turn out into
+the world alone, when the door opened and Maggie came in with an open
+letter in her hand.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Oh, May," she said, "what do you think? Claude Ellis is going to be
+married!"</p>
+
+<p>My heart beat so loudly that I was afraid Maggie would hear it, and I
+trembled so much that I was obliged to sit down on a chair by the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"May, dear," said Maggie, "what is the matter? You look so pale and
+ill. Shall I get you anything? I am afraid I startled you, coming in
+like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," I said, trying to smile, "I am all right. Read me your letter,
+Maggie—from whom is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is from Fanny, May." (Fanny was Maggie's bosom friend and
+confidante). "Shall I read it all, or only the part about Claude?"</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image021" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image021.jpg" alt="image021"></figure>
+<p class="t4">
+<b>A DISCOVERY.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"Read the part about Claude first, dear," I said, "and I will lie down
+on my bed whilst you read; I feel a little tired with packing, and I
+mean to take half an hour's rest before dinner."</p>
+
+<p>So I lay on my bed and turned my face to the wall whilst Maggie read as
+follows:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'And now I must tell you the news. Who do you think is engaged? You
+will never guess, if you guess all night. It is Claude Ellis! I will
+tell you how I heard about it. Yesterday afternoon I went for a walk
+with Dash to the Endle Farm. As we were coming home, down that hilly
+part of the road where you and I played hide-and-seek amongst the furze
+bushes, I saw two people sitting on a stile at the bottom of the hill.
+One was Claude Ellis, and the other was a young lady. They did not see
+me until I was very near to them, and then Claude pretended not to
+see me and got up, and they both walked down the lane, and I followed
+them only a little way behind, so that I could see the young lady very
+well. She was prettily dressed, and was tall and very good-looking.
+She had the loveliest hair I ever saw, done in a number of most
+wonderful plaits. I am sure she could not have done it herself. Claude
+was bending over her and talking to her; and he looked very happy,
+and so did she. They turned in at the Parsonage gate, and I went home
+wondering very much who she was.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'But I had not to wait very long, for that evening papa came in with
+the news that Claude was engaged, and that the young lady was staying
+at the Parsonage. Mr. Ellis had told him, so there could be no mistake
+about it. She is the sister of one of Claude's Oxford friends; and he
+has been staying with them in Scotland the last few weeks. Her name is
+Alice Fitzgerald, and she is very rich indeed. Papa says she is quite
+a prize for Claude, and that he will be a very rich man now, with her
+money and his own money put together. And papa says, that is a very
+good thing, for he has heard that Claude spent a great many hundred
+pounds at Oxford, and that poor Mr. Ellis would have been almost ruined
+if Claude's uncle had not died just then and left him the money. Papa
+thinks Claude is very extravagant, and he says he rather pities his
+wife. But I am sure Claude is very fond of her, and he looked so happy
+to-day I could not help feeling glad for him. He seemed so miserable
+the last time he came home. Do you remember when we met him in Bush
+Lane, how cross he was, and how he contradicted everything we said, and
+looked as if he had just heard all his relations were dead? Well, it's
+getting late, and I must end my letter.'<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"That's all about Claude, May," said Maggie, as she stopped reading.
+"Wouldn't you like to see Miss Alice Fitzgerald?"</p>
+
+<p>When Maggie had gone downstairs, taking her new writing-case with her,
+that she might begin at once to answer her little friend's letter, I
+got up and locked my door, and then sat down to think over what I had
+heard.</p>
+
+<p>The news of Claude's engagement had come upon me like a thunder-clap.
+I tried to reason with myself that I ought to be very glad that Claude
+was engaged, and that as I could not be his wife he had found some
+one else to make him happy. And yet it was so soon, so very soon, for
+Claude to forget his love for me. I had thought that he cared for me
+more than that. I had thought that he held my love too dear, so quickly
+and so easily to exchange it for another's.</p>
+
+<p>I suppose it was my pride that was wounded, and that the tears which
+came, in spite of myself, and rolled down my cheeks, were tears of
+mortification. I felt very vexed with myself that it should be so. I
+called myself all sorts of hard names, and wiped my eyes, and tried to
+think how nice it was that all was so comfortably settled for me; how
+delightful it was that I could feel that I had done the right thing,
+and yet that I had not brought a gloom over the whole of Claude's life.
+And yet, at the bottom of my heart, I detected a secret hope, which had
+been hidden there the last few weeks, that, some day or other, Claude
+might give up his infidel notions and become a real Christian, and
+that then we might meet again and become to each other what he had so
+earnestly wished us to be. I had even thought that perhaps this trouble
+might be the means of making Claude look into the reality of religion,
+and believe in that Saviour who is the only true source of comfort, and
+that thus the great obstacle to our union might be taken away.</p>
+
+<p>Not that Claude was by any means my beau-ideal of all that a man and
+a husband should be. But then he was, after all, the nicest man I had
+ever met, and it might be that my ideal was a thing of imagination,
+never met with in real life.</p>
+
+<p>And on this particular day I was feeling very lonely and desolate. I
+was about to turn out into the world alone—alone amongst strangers.
+I was going to a great and fashionable household, where, no doubt, I
+should be looked down upon, and despised as poor, and a dependent.</p>
+
+<p>I had no one to take care of me, or to shield me from the rough places
+which I should be sure to come across. There was no one in the world
+that really belonged to me except my sister Maggie, and she was but
+a child. I felt very unprotected, desolate, and forsaken. I took up
+my Bible and turned wearily over the pages, if, perchance, my eyes
+might fall upon some words of comfort. And the words which caught my
+attention were these, in the thirteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Having loved His own which were in the world, He loved them unto the
+end."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Unto the end," an unchanging, an unvarying, an untiring love. I had
+chosen that love in preference to Claude's. Had I made a bad exchange?
+I had given up a love which had proved itself, at the best, but fickle
+and shallow, and I had chosen Christ's love, the love of Him of whom
+it was written, that having loved His own which were in the world, He
+loved them unto the end.</p>
+
+<p>"His 'own.'" Did that indeed mean me? Or did it only apply to the few
+disciples gathered round Him in these last hours of His life on earth?
+Was it only these whom He loved unto the end? Or could I take up the
+words, and make them my star of comfort? Could I make them apply to
+myself now, as they applied to the apostles then?</p>
+
+<p>Was it true now that I was His—His own? Was it true that I was in the
+world—in the wide, desolate world, alone, just as these apostles were
+so soon to be, and was it true that He would love me in spite of all my
+failings and all my sins, and that He would love me unto the end? Could
+it be true?</p>
+
+<p>Another text came into my mind:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>These words surely gave me the right to take the other words and make
+them mine. What Jesus was then, in the yesterday of the past, so He
+is now, to-day; what He was to the apostles, so He is to me, and so
+He ever will be—the same in love, the same in sympathy, the same in
+constancy.</p>
+
+<p>But I am so cold to Him, I thought, so ungrateful, so sinful. My love
+is so changeable and fluctuating. Surely He will not, He cannot, in
+spite of all this, go on loving me—loving me unchangeably. And yet, I
+know that Christ's love for us, if it exists at all, must exist quite
+independently of anything in us, for what can He see in the very best
+of men to win His love?</p>
+
+<p>And I remembered that these very apostles, of whom this was written,
+were very faulty and imperfect in their love to Him. Only the very
+next day one of them, the one who had professed the most love for Him,
+denied Him with oaths and curses, saying, again and again, "I know not
+the man." And every one of them, even the disciple whom Jesus loved,
+forsook Him in His hour of need and fled.</p>
+
+<p>And yet of these very men, with all their failings and imperfections,
+it was written:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Having loved His own which were in the world, He loved them unto the
+end."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>My heart grew light again, and I went downstairs quite comforted and
+happy, and without a single wish in my heart to change places with Miss
+Alice Fitzgerald.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning I left the Manor House soon after breakfast. I was
+followed to the door by Miss Jane bidding me, in her calm, decided way,
+to be sure to choose a carriage with at least two elderly ladies in it,
+"because, my dear, one reads of such awful robberies and murders taking
+place in railway carriages!" Followed also by Miss Hannah, entreating
+me to remember what Miss Jane had said, and also to be quite sure that
+the guard had fastened the door well before the train started. Followed
+even by Miss Louisa, suggesting the advisability of always having
+both windows closed, and both ventilators securely fastened, lest any
+draught should enter the carriage. Followed, not only to the door but
+as far as the garden gate, by my little Maggie, sobbing as if her heart
+would break, and refusing to be comforted.</p>
+
+<p>It was very hard to leave them all, and especially to leave my little
+sister, and to go forth alone into the world; but the words which had
+been my comfort yesterday were my strength now, and the language of my
+heart was,—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me."<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>How much I wondered, as I was travelling that day, what Miss Evelyn
+Trafford would be like, and of what my duties, as companion, would
+consist. But it was of no use wondering; that evening I should know.</p>
+
+<p>I had a long, tiring journey, having to change my train no less than
+four times, and to wait at cold, cheerless junctions for several hours.</p>
+
+<p>But in spite of the sisters' oft-repeated predictions of the reverse, I
+and my luggage arrived safe and sound at the little station of Alliston.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as I left the carriage, a footman came up to me, and,
+touching his hat, inquired if I was Miss Lindsay. When I answered in
+the affirmative, he took charge of my luggage, and led the way to a
+carriage which was waiting for me outside the station.</p>
+
+<p>We drove on in the darkness for some distance, through what seemed to
+be country roads and lanes, for I could see no lights by the wayside,
+and nothing to break the darkness of the night.</p>
+
+<p>After a long time the carriage stopped in front of a small house, which
+I saw must be a lodge, for by means of the light which came from a
+diamond-paned window I could see a woman opening some large iron gates
+for the carriage to go through.</p>
+
+<p>When we had passed the lodge, I expected every moment to reach the
+house, and my heart beat faster and faster in expectation of my
+arrival. But we went on and on and on for at least a mile before the
+lights of the great house appeared, and we stopped before the door.</p>
+
+<p>The footman got down from the carriage and rang the bell. The door was
+opened by a grave and solemn butler, and I went inside, feeling as if
+I were walking in my sleep, so tired and confused was I with my long
+journey.</p>
+
+<p>I was ushered through a spacious hall, filled with stags' horns and
+old swords, and stuffed birds and foreign curiosities, and old oak
+cabinets, up a very wide staircase to a room at the top of the house.
+It was not a large room, but it was very pretty and comfortable, and a
+cheerful fire was blazing in the grate.</p>
+
+<p>The maid who had shown me my room told me that Miss Trafford would be
+glad to see me as soon as I was ready, so I hastened to take off my
+dusty travelling dress and to make myself ready to go downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>After about half an hour the maid came back again to conduct me. We
+went through several long passages, past a number of doors, until we
+arrived at Miss Evelyn Trafford's room.</p>
+
+<p>The maid opened the door and I went in. The gas was not lighted, but
+the fire was blazing brightly, and by its light I could see a young
+lady lying on a low couch on one side of it. She was very pretty, with
+small, delicate features, and a beautiful fair complexion, and appeared
+to be about seventeen or eighteen years of age. On the sofa beside her
+were lying two kittens curled up on a velvet cushion, and in front of
+the fire was a little spaniel fast asleep on the hearth-rug.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the door opened Miss Trafford hold out her hand to me.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, Miss Lindsay," she said; "come to the fire; you must be tired
+and cold; it's dreadfully cold out, is it not? There, Flossy, get up
+and let Miss Lindsay come to the fire."</p>
+
+<p>She had a pretty, childish manner, which was very winning and pleasant.
+"I am so glad you have come," she said, when I was seated, "and you
+look so nice. Do you know I thought you would be dreadful, before you
+came! When papa said one day that it was so dull for me up here alone
+he must get me a companion, I actually cried, Miss Lindsay. It was very
+silly of me, I know, but then I always am a silly child. I pictured to
+myself what this companion would be like, and I thought she would have
+grey curls, and spectacles, and a brown alpaca dress, and always talk
+as if she were talking out of a book."</p>
+
+<p>I could not help laughing heartily when she said this.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am so glad you can laugh," said Miss Trafford; "the companion,
+in the picture I made of her, never laughed—she only smiled, as if she
+was thinking, 'How foolish every one in the world is, and especially
+this weak-minded child I have to take care of.'"</p>
+
+<p>This, of course, made me laugh again, to Miss Trafford's great
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa said he would get me somebody young and charming if he could, and
+he told me when he was writing about you how old you were, but I didn't
+think I should like you a bit, and I didn't want you to come at all."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will change your mind soon, Miss Trafford," I said; "I will
+try not to be very disagreeable."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I have changed my mind," she said, quickly; "I changed it as soon
+as you came in at the door. I always judge by first sight. If I love
+people when I first see them, I always love them; and if I hate them, I
+always hate them. I never change my mind afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that is a good plan?" I said. "Don't you think it is
+rather an unfair way of judging?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know about that," she said; "it always answers very well
+for me. I liked you when you came in at the door, and I mean always to
+like you. I wish Ambrose would bring the dinner, the gong sounded long
+since. I am sure it is time for it, and you must be so hungry. Miss
+Lindsay, will you please ring the bell?"</p>
+
+<p>One of the footmen soon appeared with a small round table, which he
+placed between Miss Trafford's couch and my chair. The table was
+already prepared for dinner, with everything in its proper place.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is so nice to have you here," said Miss Trafford. "Do you
+know, I haven't been downstairs to dinner for five months. Isn't that
+dreadful? And I have always had dinner quite alone, except twice, when
+there was no one staying here, and then papa came up to my room and
+had dinner here. It was such fun; he and I had this little table, and
+Ambrose came in here to wait. I laughed all the time, and so did papa;
+it seemed such a little room after the dining-room, and the three men
+did not at all know where to stand, because there was no room for them
+to come close to the table."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have only been ill five months?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Only five months! As if that were not long enough," she said; "it
+seems more like five years to me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is a long time," I said; "but I was afraid you might have been
+ill longer still. I do not know what made you ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't papa tell you? How funny of him! Now, if I had been writing to
+you, I should have told you the whole story. What did he tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>"He only said that he wanted a companion for his daughter, and asked
+for my references."</p>
+
+<p>"That was just like papa," said Evelyn; "he always does everything
+in what he calls a business-like way, which I always say means never
+telling anybody anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you tell me what made you ill?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was that young horse," she said; "such a beauty! You must
+see him, Miss Lindsay; he is quite black, and has a white star on his
+forehead, and his name is Wildfire, because he flies along so fast.
+Papa said he was too young for me to ride; but I was not a bit afraid,
+and Cousin Donald asked me to go out with him for an hour. Cousin
+Donald is very fond of me," she said, laughing; "he would like me to
+marry him; but that would never do, you know. Papa says he is very
+poor, and he would not hear of such a thing. But Cousin Donald is very
+good-looking, and I like riding with him, he rides so well, and we had
+a splendid ride that day; but then Wildfire threw me, and all my fun
+was over."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you much hurt?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said; "the doctors said my spine was injured; only a little
+though," she added, quickly, "and if I keep very, very still, and never
+walk about for a year, they think I shall be quite well again. Oh dear!
+I wish the year was over now! But it will be much nicer now you have
+come."</p>
+
+<p>"You must tell me, please, Miss Trafford, what my duties are," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't talk about duties," she said, pretending to stop her ears;
+"I can't bear the word. I never could do anything because it was a
+duty. That's just the sort of word the companion in my picture used to
+say. She used to draw up her head and look through her spectacles, and
+say, solemnly, 'Miss Evelyn, remember your duties.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But you will tell me what my work is to be here," I repeated; "Sir
+William did not mention it in his letter."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't have any work," she said, "except to amuse me; you are to be
+my friend, if you like to call that work—to read to me, and talk to me,
+and have meals with me, and make the year go a little quicker."</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't very hard work," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know," she answered; "you'll find me a very tiresome child
+sometimes, and if you had been the brown alpaca dress, and grey curls,
+and spectacles, I would have led you such a life that in less than a
+week you would have said to papa, 'Sir William Trafford, I must beg to
+resign the charge of your flippant and wilful daughter.' Before you
+came, papa said we were to have some profitable reading in a morning,
+and story-books only after luncheon; but I hate profitable reading, and
+papa never makes me do what I hate."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of reading do you mean?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, history and geography, and all such things; I never could bear
+them. What is the good of knowing who Henry VIII.'s wives were, and
+which of them he beheaded; and nearly giving oneself brain fever in
+trying to remember what relation John of Gaunt was to everybody else."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very fond of history," I said; "I think some parts are quite as
+interesting as a story-book."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, oh dear!" she said. "You are talking just like the brown
+alpaca dress! I shall expect you to pull the spectacles out of your
+pocket in a minute."</p>
+
+<p>And then I could do nothing but laugh, and in a moment she had changed
+the conversation, and was rattling on about something else.</p>
+
+<p>"There are not many visitors here just now," she said; "you'll see them
+all by and by. They generally pay me a visit after dinner. And mind you
+stop when they come; I want you to see them all. The brown alpaca dress
+always got up when any one came in, and made a very stiff bow, and went
+away and shut herself up in her bedroom. So mind you don't do the same;
+you must look at all the people well, and tell me what you think of
+them, when they are gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I should not like to do that," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" she said, laughingly. "I don't mind telling you what I think
+of any one. There is Lady Eldridge; she is very grand and stately,
+and I don't like her a bit; and there is Lord Moreton—he never has a
+word to say, and is very stupid; but he has a quantity of money and a
+splendid estate, and papa is always saying what a nice young man he is.
+And so he may be, perhaps, in some ways; at least he is very harmless,
+but then he squints, and I never could marry any one who squinted—could
+you, Miss Lindsay?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," I said, laughing; "I never thought about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I couldn't, it would drive me mad. And then there is Alicia
+Hay—papa's old maid cousin—and if you ask me what I think of her, I
+think she is trying very hard to get married and never will. And then
+there is Lilla—but I won't tell you about them all now, you will see
+them for yourself by and by."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image022" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image022.jpg" alt="image022">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image023" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image023.jpg" alt="image023">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>ALLISTON HALL.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image024" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image024.jpg" alt="image024">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"SHALL I ring the bell, Miss Trafford?" I inquired, when
+dinner was over.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Don't call me Miss Trafford," she said, quickly; "call me Evelyn, it
+sounds much nicer, and is six letters shorter."</p>
+
+<p>"But perhaps Sir William would not like it," I objected.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa likes everything I like," she said, decidedly. "I wish you
+to call me Evelyn, and I mean to call you by your first name too—'Miss
+Lindsay' sounds just like the brown alpaca. What is your Christian
+name?"</p>
+
+<p>"My name is May," I said; "and I shall be very glad if you will call me
+May, instead of Miss Lindsay; I shall fancy I am at home again."</p>
+
+<p>"Well then it's settled, May," she said, laughing; "and now you may
+ring the bell."</p>
+
+<p>Soon after the dessert was cleared away, a rustling of silk was heard
+in the passages, the door opened, and three ladies entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>The first was a stout, elderly lady, very handsomely dressed. In her
+younger days I felt sure she had been a beauty, and I think she must
+have been greatly admired. But she had, I thought, an unpleasant
+expression in her face, and a haughty and disagreeable manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Evelyn," she said, as she swept past me without a word or a
+look, "how are you feeling now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very nicely, thank you, Lady Eldridge," she said; "Miss Lindsay
+and I have had quite a pleasant chat together."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Lindsay, ah! Yes, I see," said Lady Eldridge, turning to me for
+the first time; "the young person whom Sir William has engaged as your
+companion, Evelyn, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>And then she took no further notice of me, but sat upon the sofa at
+Evelyn's side, fanning herself vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>There was something in Lady Eldridge's manner which made me
+uncomfortable and uneasy, and I had withdrawn to the table with my work
+as the two other ladies advanced to the fire, not intending to take any
+part in the conversation, when a pleasant, gentle voice by my side said
+kindly, "You must be tired with your long journey, Miss Lindsay; had
+you to stop many times by the way?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked up and met one of the sweetest faces I have ever seen. It was
+not exactly a pretty face, and the features were far from handsome, but
+there was such a beautiful expression upon it that you could never have
+called it plain. I should have been very puzzled if any one had asked
+me how old she was. At one time she looked quite young, not more than
+four or five and twenty; and the moment afterwards I detected strong
+marks of care, or anxiety, or trouble on the face, which made me think
+she must be at least ten or fifteen years older.</p>
+
+<p>I told her about my journey, and then she asked me one question after
+another, in the kindest, pleasantest way, as if she really cared to
+know all I had to tell her. She led me on from one subject to another,
+and I found myself telling her of our old home; of Maggie, and my hopes
+and fears for her; and of many other things, whilst Lady Eldridge
+and Evelyn were talking together on the sofa; and all the chill and
+repression which had come over me when Lady Eldridge entered the room
+entirely passed away, and I felt perfectly at my ease again.</p>
+
+<p>When I told her of our leaving our dear old home, her eyes filled with
+tears, and she said quietly, "I know what a trial that is; I have gone
+through it myself. What a comfort that there is one home where there
+will be no parting and no going away!"</p>
+
+<p>Such a happy, thankful feeling came into my heart as she said this.
+There was something in the way she said it, as well as in the words
+themselves, which made me feel sure that my new friend was one who
+loved the same Lord I loved. And, if I had felt drawn to her before, I
+was doubly drawn to her now.</p>
+
+<p>We had no opportunity for further conversation, for Evelyn was growing
+weary of Lady Eldridge, and invited us to come nearer to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Put away your work, you industrious girl," she said to me. "The brown
+alpaca always had her work close to her fingers' ends at a moment's
+notice."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Evelyn," said Lady Eldridge, "a most profitable way for a
+young person."</p>
+
+<p>But Evelyn took no notice of her, and turned to my new friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Where have you been all day, Lilla?" she said. "You have only been to
+see me three times."</p>
+
+<p>"Have I been so negligent as that, dear?" she said. "I must mend my
+manners to-morrow; but I have been very busy writing letters, so you
+must forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>Until I had turned to the fire I had not looked at the third lady who
+had come into the room. She was sitting languidly in an arm-chair by
+the fire, with her eyes fixed on the door, as if she were looking
+anxiously for some one to enter. She was decidedly advanced in middle
+age, yet she was dressed like a girl of seventeen: in a low, white
+evening dress, and a most elaborate gold chain and locket round her
+neck. She looked dissatisfied and restless, as if she was always
+striving to reach some object which was eluding her grasp. She took no
+particular interest in the general conversation which was going on, but
+seemed either lost in thought, or not thinking at all.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Eldridge was giving an account of Eastern life, which she
+described as the most delightful life on earth. I found she had lived
+many years abroad, and was going to Constantinople the following
+spring. She could not settle in England more than a year at a time, she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"Those miserable skies; those depressing fogs; those dreadful rainy
+days, enough to make any one commit suicide who has lived in the
+East, my dear." And Lady Eldridge fanned herself again at the bare
+recollection of it.</p>
+
+<p>She kept up a continual run of conversation for about half an hour;
+but she gave me the idea of being a woman who had hardly opened a book
+in the whole course of her life, and who was thoroughly ignorant of
+everything except the worldly ways of the worldly world—in which she
+seemed to be anything but ignorant.</p>
+
+<p>But her chattering was brought to a close by a rap at the door, and the
+announcement that the gentlemen had arrived in the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Those tiresome men!" said Lady Eldridge. "As if they could not amuse
+themselves for half an hour without sending for us. Well, Alicia,
+I suppose we must obey the lords of creation and go downstairs.
+Good-night, Evelyn, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>And, without taking the slightest notice of me, Lady Eldridge sailed
+out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>The other two ladies said good-night to both of us and followed in her
+train, and Evelyn and I were left alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you think of them?" she said, as soon as the door was
+shut. "Bring your chair close to the fire and tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"I think that the lady who sat near me has one of the sweetest faces
+that I ever saw," I said. "I could quite believe in any one loving her
+at first sight."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lilla, yes; isn't she nice?" said Evelyn, carelessly. "Every one
+seems to like poor Lilla."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you call her poor?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, because she has had so much trouble," Evelyn answered; "she was
+engaged to a young officer a good many years ago, and it was broken
+off; his father persuaded him to marry some one with more money. Lilla
+is papa's first cousin, and she often stays here; it is very dull for
+her at home; her father has married again, and his new wife is such a
+horrid old thing, who treats Lilla as if she were a child of twelve.
+But Lilla never complains; she is very patient. And what did you think
+of Lady Eldridge?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had rather not say, please, Evelyn; I do not think it is very kind
+to talk about people so much."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it won't hurt Lady Eldridge, I assure you," she answered; "she
+is miles too high up in the world to be hurt by anything you or I may
+say or think of her—at least she thinks that she is. Papa says she
+has nothing to boast of, if her antecedents were looked into. She was
+quite poor, and lived in some remote Eastern city, when her good looks
+attracted Sir Hugh Eldridge's attention, as he was passing through
+the place, and he married her. But she thinks herself a perfect queen
+now, and lords it over everybody. I often pity her poor maid. It is
+'Lawrence, here;' 'Lawrence, do this;' 'Lawrence, do that;' from
+morning till night; for Lady Eldridge thinks it is a disgrace to do
+the simplest thing for herself, or even to know how it ought to be
+done. She boasts of being ignorant as a baby about all money matters,
+and cannot even pay a bill for herself. Silly old thing!" said Evelyn,
+contemptuously. "I have more respect for Alicia Hay than I have for
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the lady who sat in the arm-chair by the fire?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, poor thing!" said Evelyn. "She wouldn't talk a bit to-night. I
+know why, just as well as if I had been there. It was just because Lord
+Moreton didn't take her down to dinner;" and Evelyn laughed at the
+thought of it. "Didn't you see how she looked at the door every time
+a step came in the passage? Because sometimes papa comes up for a few
+minutes on his way to the drawing-room, to cheer me up a little, and
+sometimes he brings one of the gentlemen with him; but they didn't come
+to-night, so poor Alicia was quite disconsolate; she had not the heart
+to talk to any one. And if she only know—oh, if she only knew—what Lord
+Moreton really thinks of her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor thing!" I said. "Is she very fond of him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not of him in particular," said Evelyn, laughing; "but you see
+poor Alicia is getting old; she really is, though she would be very
+angry if any one told her so, and she wants very much to be married,
+and to have a home of her own."</p>
+
+<p>I was not sorry when Evelyn asked me to ring the bell for her maid
+Clemence, and I was at liberty to go to my own room, for I was very
+tired after all the travelling and excitement I had gone through that
+day.</p>
+
+<p>I lay awake for many hours, watching the flickering of the firelight,
+and listening for the striking of a large clock in the hall, whose
+deep, sonorous voice could be heard in every part of the great house.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next morning I awoke before it was light, and had been dressed
+for more than an hour before Clemence came to conduct me to her young
+mistress's dressing-room. I found Evelyn lying on a sofa by the
+dressing-room fire, in a pretty pink dressing-gown, and with her fair
+hair hanging down in long waving tresses. She looked a perfect picture,
+I thought, and one that any artist would take pleasure in painting. She
+seemed pleased to see me, but was languid and tired, and not so much
+inclined for talking as she had been the night before.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast was brought up soon after I arrived, and, whilst we were
+eating it, the door opened, and an elderly gentleman came in. He had
+evidently been very handsome in his younger days, and there was a
+cheerful, pleasant, good-tempered expression on his face, which made
+him look younger than I imagine he really was.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa," said Evelyn, brightening up the moment that she saw him, "I
+am so glad you have come! How naughty of you not to come last night! I
+wanted you so much to see Miss Lindsay—May, I call her now," she added,
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William shook hands with me very kindly, and said he hoped I should
+soon feel at home, and that his little daughter would not wear me out
+with her chattering.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, papa, what nonsense!" said Evelyn, gaily. "May was at home
+when she had been here ten minutes, were you not, May? And she likes
+chattering just as much as I do. You talk just as if she was the brown
+alpaca I told you about. But she is not a bit like her; she is so nice,
+papa, and we get on together famously."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," said Sir William, seating himself on the sofa; "and how
+is my little puss this morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only a little tired, papa," she said, wearily; "the pain kept me awake
+last night."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her very anxiously, I thought, as he stooped over her, and
+gently arranged her pillows, as carefully and tenderly as any woman
+could have done.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep very quiet this morning, little girl," he said; "I will not let
+any of them come near you. Miss Lindsay will read to you, and you can
+lie quite still."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, thank you, papa," she said, cheerfully, "let them all come; it
+does me good to have people coming in and out; it amuses me; they are
+so funny, some of them, aren't they, papa? Don't they make you laugh
+sometimes?"</p>
+
+<p>Sir William made some evasive answer, and glanced towards the end of
+the room, where I was sitting at work.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you need not mind her, papa," said Evelyn aloud, "she is not the
+brown alpaca. I mean to tell her everything, and to talk just the same
+when she is in the room as when she is out of it."</p>
+
+<p>Sir William seemed rather amused at the rapid friendship that had
+sprung up between us, but it did not appear to displease him, for he
+smiled kindly at me, and gave me a few more words of welcome as he rose
+to leave the room. But when he got to the door he said gravely:</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Moreton is very anxious to see you this morning, Evelyn; shall I
+let him come when you got into the other room?"</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn laughed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if it is any amusement to him, papa," she said; "I am sure he
+amuses me. Oh! If you had only seen him the other day; he came up when
+Alicia Hay was sitting beside me, and neither of them spoke a word.
+He sat looking at me, and she sat looking at him; and they were both
+perfectly stupid."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Moreton is a very worthy young man, Evelyn," said her father,
+gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a very worthy young man," she repeated, in exactly the same tone,
+so exactly that I could scarcely keep from smiling; "but the worst is,
+papa, that I don't like very worthy young men; they are so dreadfully
+uninteresting—at least, if Lord Moreton is a specimen—they sit and
+look at you, and then clear their throats, and try to make some feeble
+remark, and break down in the middle. Oh dear! It is so amusing. Now
+Cousin Donald never does that; he can make himself very agreeable; I
+wish he would come to see me."</p>
+
+<p>"Donald has other business to attend to," said her father, rather
+sharply; "he has no time to lose now. Donald must make his way in the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, rather sadly; "poor Donald!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know why he need be pitied," said Sir William, dryly; "if he
+will only work, he will soon be able to earn a very fair income."</p>
+
+<p>"But Donald does not like work," said Evelyn; "he says he would like to
+be independent, and to have plenty—plenty of money."</p>
+
+<p>"He never will have plenty of money," said Sir William, almost angrily,
+as he shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa does not like poor Donald," she said, as soon as he was out of
+hearing; "but he is so handsome, and he has such nice brown eyes. I do
+not know why papa dislikes him so much. I think it is because he is
+afraid he likes me too much. It is very strange that he does like me. I
+should have thought that he would have hated me; because if I had never
+been born, Cousin Donald would have lived here, and would have been
+just like papa's son. That makes me feel so sorry for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he much older than you?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is six years older," said Evelyn; "and papa and mamma had been
+married a long time, and they thought they would not have any children
+of their own, so papa was talking of adopting Cousin Donald, and
+educating him and leaving the property to him. Uncle and aunt were very
+pleased about it, because they have so many children. Cousin Donald is
+the eldest of thirteen now, and there were plenty of them even then,
+so they were quite willing to spare him to papa. But of course when I
+came, I put an end to all that little plan," she said, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"And where is your cousin Donald now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, poor fellow, he is in a bank, and he does so hate doing sums;
+he always did. They make his head ache, he says. He likes riding and
+shooting and fishing, and all such things, just the kind of life he
+would have had here, you know; it is very hard for him, is it not? And
+I am afraid he is rather lazy, and they say he wastes his money. But he
+is so good-looking, and I really think he cannot help it—yes, I really
+think he cannot help it."</p>
+
+<p>"Cannot help what?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, being extravagant," she explained. "He buys beautiful little
+bouquets for his button-hole, and all sorts of little unnecessary
+things of that kind, and the money goes very fast. But it must be so
+hard to see pretty things and not to be able to buy them. I should
+never be able to do that; as soon as ever I see anything I like, I send
+into the shop and have it brought out to me at once."</p>
+
+<p>I smiled to myself as I went on with my work, for I was thinking how
+different Evelyn's experience had been from mine. She seemed to guess
+my thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you have not always had everything that you wanted and
+wished for?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything I really wanted—yes," I answered; "everything I may have
+wished for—no."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! Was it not very tiresome?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it was good for me," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Good for you!" she repeated. "That's just like the brown alpaca. How
+could it be good for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it made me enjoy all the more the good things which were given
+me," I said—"things that perhaps you might have thought nothing of, and
+things which would have given you no pleasure at all."</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of things?" asked Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, any little present that was given me; any new book, or picture;
+any little pleasure, or treat of any kind. We had so few new things,
+that when anything fresh came, it was prized and valued more than I can
+tell you. I really think it gave us more enjoyment than far grander
+things would give you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I dare say," said Evelyn; "there are some things that I wish for
+just a minute, and then when they come I do not care for them. If you
+only saw the number of books on those shelves, the leaves of which have
+never been out. I wished for them, and ordered them, but when they
+arrived I had given up wishing for them, and I have never begun to read
+them."</p>
+
+<p>I thought of the little shelves at home which had held my small
+library, each volume of which was the prized gift of some friend, and
+which had been read and re-read, until I know their contents almost by
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Before I had been long at Alliston Hall, I came to the conclusion that
+the enjoyment of this life is much more evenly distributed than many of
+us think. For where pleasures are many, the enjoyment that they give is
+comparatively small; whilst where they are few and far between, they
+cause so much larger an amount of enjoyment, that the lives of those
+who receive them are quite as full of sunshine and brightness as they
+would be if their pleasures were more in number.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image025" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image025.jpg" alt="image025">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>CONSCIENCE AT WORK.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image026" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image026.jpg" alt="image026">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;MY life at Alliston Hall was a very happy one. Day after
+day went by without any care or anxiety, and every one was so kind to
+me that I could not feel lonely or homeless any longer.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The more I knew of Evelyn Trafford, the more I loved her. In spite of
+her light, careless way of talking, there was a great deal of genuine
+kind feeling in her, and I am sure she did all in her power to make me
+happy. I never once remember, the whole time I was with her, feeling
+uncomfortable on account of my position in the house. Both Sir William
+and Evelyn treated me as if I were one of the family, and I received
+nothing but kindness from their numerous visitors and friends. Lady
+Eldridge was the only exception. She, whenever she made her appearance
+at Alliston Hall, thought it her duty to keep me fully aware who she,
+Lady Eldridge, was, and who I, May Lindsay, was, and of the immense and
+immeasurable distance between us.</p>
+
+<p>The guests at Alliston Hall did not pay very long visits, so I had
+constant change and variety in my life, and heard and saw a great deal
+more of the outer world than in our quiet country home.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, although everything around me was so pleasant, and though
+every one was so kind to me, I had not been many months at Alliston
+Hall before I began to feel restless and unhappy. For I felt that I was
+not walking so closely with God as I had done before. I had become cold
+and careless, rising late in the morning and hurrying over my prayers,
+and then going through the day in an idle, careless spirit, hardly ever
+thinking of my Lord or trying to please Him.</p>
+
+<p>For some time this did not make me at all unhappy. I had so much to
+think of, and there were so many pleasant visitors staying in the
+house, and so many books to be read, and there was so much to be done
+to amuse Evelyn and to make the days pass happily for her, that I gave
+myself no time to think about the state of my soul. But the visitors
+left and we were quiet again; and then I felt an empty, dissatisfied
+feeling in my heart, which I cannot put into words. My conscience was
+very busy now, and brought to my recollection all my neglect of my
+best and dearest Friend, all my coldness and indifference to Him. I
+would have given anything to feel His presence as in times past; but He
+seemed far away from me, and I felt too cold even to pray to Him. But
+though I had so terribly forgotten Him, my Lord still remembered me.</p>
+
+<p>It was Sunday afternoon. Evelyn had fallen asleep on the sofa, and I
+went out into the garden till she awoke. There had been showers all the
+morning, but now the sun was shining brightly, and the rain-drops were
+sparkling like diamonds on the grass.</p>
+
+<p>I went along one of the grassy terraces, and turned down a quiet path,
+shut in by evergreens, which led by a gentle descent down to the sea.
+This was my favourite walk, and I always chose it when I came out
+alone. There were several seats on this path, so situated as to catch
+a peep of the sea through the shrubs and trees, which grew down to its
+very edge.</p>
+
+<p>As I turned a corner in this winding path, I suddenly came upon Miss
+Lilla Irvine, sitting upon one of the seats reading her Bible. I
+apologised for disturbing her, and was going to turn back, when she
+asked me if I would not stay a little and read with her.</p>
+
+<p>"You and I love the same Lord, May," she said; "I know we do, and I
+think it would help us to talk together of Him sometimes; at least,"
+she added, "I am sure it would help me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Irvine," I said, as I sat down beside her, "if you only knew—"</p>
+
+<p>"If I only knew what?" she said, gently.</p>
+
+<p>"If you only knew how careless I have been lately; I have hardly
+thought about Him at all."</p>
+
+<p>"What has been the matter, May?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know," I answered; "I think everything has been too smooth
+and nice lately; somehow, it is easier to do right when the road is
+rather rough; don't you think it is, Miss Irvine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said; "when things go wrong, and all seems against us, we
+are driven to prayer, May—we feel we must pray then; but we ought not
+to need driving into our dear Lord's presence."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," I said; "I know we ought not."</p>
+
+<p>"And oh, May," she said, earnestly, "if we get self-confident, and
+leave off prayer, we shall soon have a fall; we are not safe for a
+single moment if we are not strong in the Lord and in the power of His
+might. You will be having a fall if you do not come back to Him, May."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could come back, Miss Irvine," I said, "but it is easier
+to get wrong than to get right again. I got up this morning rather
+earlier, and tried to pray, but I could not fix my thoughts on what I
+was saying; all sorts of things kept coming into my mind, and I gave it
+up at last."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I know what that is; heart answers to heart. I have
+often found it so; when I have left God, and have been pleasing myself,
+I have lost the power to pray."</p>
+
+<p>"How is it, Miss Irvine?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," she said, "that the Holy Spirit has been grieved, and
+without His help we cannot pray."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what do you think I should do?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," she said, "you should go back to the Lord, just in the
+same spirit in which you first came to Him. Go to Him, and ask Him to
+receive you—to take away all the sin which is separating you from Him,
+and to give you the comfort of His presence again. And then I think you
+should especially pray that you may once more have the help of the Holy
+Spirit. I like that old hymn so much:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+"'Return, O Holy Dove, return,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sweet messenger of rest;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;I hate the sins which made Thee mourn,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And drove Thee from my breast.<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+"'So shall my walk be close with God,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Calm and serene my frame,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;So purer light shall mark the road<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That leads me to the Lamb.'<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Will you not go back to Him at once, May?" she said, laying her hand
+upon mine.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Irvine, I will; indeed I will," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Go now, dear," she said.</p>
+
+<p>So I left her sitting there, and went on, down the winding, shady path
+to the sea. It was a quiet, solitary place. The only sounds that were
+to be heard were the splashing of the waves upon the rocks, and the
+cries of the white sea-birds as they flew backwards and forwards on the
+little rocky islands which lay about half a mile from the shore.</p>
+
+<p>I knelt down in a sheltered corner, and felt myself alone with God. I
+do not think that I have ever realised the Lord's presence more than at
+that moment. And then I confessed it all to Him, all my coldness, all
+my carelessness, all my neglect of prayer, all my indifference to Him.
+I came back to Him, and asked Him to receive me, and to give me the
+light of His countenance again. And then, as Miss Irvine had advised
+me, I prayed very earnestly for the Holy Spirit, pleading that promise—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your
+children: how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit
+to them that ask Him?"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Oh, how thankful I felt that Miss Irvine had spoken to me that
+afternoon! I am sure that God put it into her heart to do so.</p>
+
+<p>When I went back to the house, I found her still sitting in the same
+place, and she said, as she took hold of my arm to walk home with me:</p>
+
+<p>"Is it all right, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss Irvine, I hope so. I have asked Him to forgive me, and I
+think He has."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "if you have asked Him, I am sure He has. He is always
+ready to forgive us, if we will only go to Him. If we only realised how
+much He loves us, May, and how much it grieves Him when we are cold and
+heartless to Him, I think we should be more careful never to leave Him."</p>
+
+<p>As I look back upon that part of my life which was spent in Alliston
+Hall, I cannot be too thankful that God gave me the friendship of Miss
+Lilla Irvine. I found in her a true friend, one in whom I could confide
+all my troubles and anxieties, and one who was ever ready to sympathise
+with me and to advise me. Her visits, to my great joy, were very long
+ones. At the time of which I am now writing, she spent several months
+at her cousin's house, so that I had many opportunities of seeing her,
+and of learning to love her more and more.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>As Christmas time drew near, the good sisters at Branston Manor House
+wrote to ask me to spend Christmas with them, and Sir William most
+kindly gave me a fortnight's holiday.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was very loth to part with me, and told me she would be
+dreadfully dull whilst I was away. But Sir William would not hear of my
+refusing the invitation, and promised to do his best to make up for my
+absence.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, oh dear, it will be a long fortnight!" Evelyn said, the night
+before I left. "You shouldn't be so nice, May; if you were only a
+little more disagreeable, just the smallest degree more like the brown
+alpaca, I should not miss you half so much!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," I said, laughing, "I will come back provided with
+spectacles, and a brown alpaca dress, and be as prim and precise as you
+please, and then I suppose I shall get plenty of holidays! Not that I
+want holidays," I said, in a different tone, as I noticed the troubled
+expression on her face, "I was only joking, dear Evelyn; my whole life
+here is a holiday—I am very, very happy, you are all so good to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Just as if we could help being good to you, May," she said; "I told
+you that I loved you at first sight, and always should love you, and
+I am sure I do. And I do hope you will enjoy being with your little
+sister, only you must be sure to come back as soon as they can spare
+you."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>It was six months since I had seen Maggie, and my heart beat very fast
+as the train drew up at Branston Station, and my little sister came
+forward to meet me. She had grown very much since I had seen her last,
+but she was the same dear, simple-minded child as when I had left her,
+and was just as loving and true.</p>
+
+<p>Old John was waiting for us with the two luxurious horses, and we drove
+to the Manor House at the usual measured pace.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite touching to see the welcome which the three kind sisters
+gave me. If I had been their own child, they could not have seemed more
+glad to see me. Miss Jane, especially, took me under her wing from the
+moment that I entered the house, and it would indeed have been my own
+fault if I had not spent a pleasant Christmas time at Branston Hall.</p>
+
+<p>But what I enjoyed, perhaps, more than anything else, was hearing Mr.
+Claremont's sermons. There was something in his plain, practical way of
+preaching, which went direct to my heart, and I always came away from
+hearing one of his sermons feeling thoroughly dissatisfied with myself,
+which perhaps, after all, is the best proof how very useful they were
+to me.</p>
+
+<p>On the last Sunday of the year, especially, I felt that indeed there
+was a message for me. In both his sermons that day Mr. Claremont spoke
+of the year that was past, gone for ever, with all its shortcomings
+and sins, all its neglected opportunities, all its wasted moments. In
+the evening his sermon was addressed more especially to the unsaved
+in the congregation, urging such not to let the last moments of the
+old year pass away until they had been to the fountain, Christ Jesus,
+the fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness, and had washed their
+sin-stained souls till they were whiter than snow.</p>
+
+<p>But in the morning Mr. Claremont spoke to Christians, to God's own
+children. He spoke of the sins of which we Christians had been guilty
+during the past year, and above all of our sins of omission. He told us
+that God had given to each of us a special work to do for Him, and that
+if we did not do it, the work would be left undone. And then he asked
+us whether all those who lived in the house with us were amongst the
+saved. Were there any, was there one, with whom we spoke day by day,
+and whom we loved perhaps very much, and yet whom we knew to be still
+outside the refuge, still unsaved?</p>
+
+<p>And then Mr. Claremont pleaded with us, if this was the case, to give
+ourselves no rest until that one was safe in Christ, but to speak to
+him about his soul, and, whenever we had an opportunity, to plead with
+him, and to urge him to come to Jesus before it was too late.</p>
+
+<p>"Another year gone, just gone, and your loved ones still unsaved. Oh,
+what if this new year should be their last! What if next New Year's
+Day, the opportunity should be over, and they should be gone! Children
+of God, up and be doing, let not their blood be on your heads. Oh,
+if they should come up to you at the last day, and say, with bitter
+reproaches, 'Why did you not warn us? If you really believed, knew that
+this was before us, why did you not give yourselves no rest, day nor
+night, until you knew that we were saved from it? Oh, why not?' What
+will you say to them then? Friends, be up and doing, for the night
+cometh when no man can work."</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Claremont spoke, one face was ever in my mind's eye, one form
+was ever before me. It was Evelyn Trafford, my own dear little Evelyn,
+of whom I thought. I knew she was not safe. Loving and amiable and
+sweet tempered as she was, I know that she cared nothing for the Lord
+I loved. She had been brought up entirely for this world, and she had
+never been taught to think of things above.</p>
+
+<p>And yet what could I do for her? I had sometimes tried to get a word
+in, edgewise as it were, for my Master, but it was very difficult, and
+it never seemed to do any good.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes I thought it did harm. If she was alone with me, she turned
+the subject so quickly, and called me precise and particular, and did
+not seem so much at her ease with me afterwards. And if any one else
+came into the room, she would begin to talk almost scoffingly of all
+that I loved and reverenced, as if she were determined to show me how
+little she cared for it all. And so I was beginning to think that it
+was wiser to be quiet and to say nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Yet this sermon had made me uneasy. If Evelyn, my dear Evelyn, should
+die unsaved, and I had never once really spoken to her about her soul's
+interests, oh, how I should blame myself! And yet, when could I do it?
+How could I begin the subject?</p>
+
+<p>I met Mr. Claremont the next day, as I was going to see one of Miss
+Jane's sick people, and I ventured to tell him how much I had felt his
+sermon.</p>
+
+<p>"But does it not require very great wisdom in speaking to others?" I
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Undoubtedly," he said; "there is a time to speak, and a time to keep
+silence."</p>
+
+<p>"But with me, Mr. Claremont," I said, "it always seems the time to keep
+silence."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been looking out for an opportunity?" he said. "Ready to
+speak and longing to speak, whenever and as soon as God shall give you
+one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hardly that," I said; "I have often thought I ought to speak, but have
+always persuaded myself that it was not the right time to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" he said. "Perhaps if you look carefully within, Miss Lindsay,
+you will find that at the bottom of it all there has been a little
+cowardice, a little unwillingness to be brave for the Master's
+sake—please forgive me for saying so—but I have often found it so
+myself. Often, when I have neglected speaking to others about their
+souls, I have found that it was not from want of opportunity, but from
+want of courage to use the opportunities that were given me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "I believe you are right."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray for opportunities to be given you, be on the look-out for
+opportunities, and use the opportunities as soon as ever they occur,
+and you will, I am sure, Miss Lindsay, find that there is indeed a time
+to speak, as well as a time to be silent."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image027" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image027.jpg" alt="image027">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image028" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image028.jpg" alt="image028">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>ALICE FITZGERALD.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image029" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image029.jpg" alt="image029">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I WENT back to Alliston Hall determined to be on the
+watch for the time to speak, and longing most earnestly for that time
+to come.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Evelyn welcomed me very warmly, and told me she had never known a
+fortnight pass so slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you many visitors here?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, "there is only Alice Fitzgerald; I did not know she was
+coming when you went away, but I found out she was staying with friends
+of hers not far-off, so I asked her to come here on her way home: her
+father is an old friend of papa's."</p>
+
+<p>"Alice Fitzgerald!" I repeated. "Alice Fitzgerald, I wonder if it is
+the same!"</p>
+
+<p>"The same as what, May?" she said, laughing at my astonishment. "Do you
+know an Alice Fitzgerald?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "I do not know her; but she is a great friend of a friend
+of mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this Alice Fitzgerald—how pale you are, May," said Evelyn,
+suddenly stopping short in her explanation; "are you very tired?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not at all," I said; "go on, I want to hear about your Alice
+Fitzgerald."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my Alice Fitzgerald is a very pretty girl, at least I think she
+is, and a nice sort of girl, though she isn't a bit like you. I don't
+mean that you are not nice, you dear old thing," said Evelyn, laughing,
+"but she is quite different from you; I'm rather afraid you will
+quarrel."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, I hope not!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you must not quarrel," said Evelyn, "though she has some very
+strange ideas; but, after all, what does it matter what one believes?"</p>
+
+<p>I was about to answer her when the door opened, and the subject of our
+conversation entered. She was a tall, fair-haired girl of about my own
+age, and was indeed, as Evelyn had said, very pretty.</p>
+
+<p>"Alice, this is my friend, May Lindsay," was Evelyn's introduction, as
+she came in.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Fitzgerald shook hands with me pleasantly, and then sat down on a
+low seat by the fire, and took her work out of a pretty, embroidered
+pocket which hung by her side.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Lindsay," she said,
+laughing, "for I have been hearing your praises sounded morning, noon,
+and night, ever since I came."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, isn't she very nice, Alice?" said Evelyn, raising herself on the
+sofa. "Didn't I give you a good description of her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I expect Miss Fitzgerald is not so hasty in forming her opinion as you
+are, Evelyn," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"By the by, Alice," Evelyn went on, "May thinks she knows a friend of
+yours; at least, if you are the same Alice Fitzgerald. What is her
+name, May?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a gentleman," I said, turning very red, in spite of all my
+efforts to the contrary—"Mr. Claude Ellis."</p>
+
+<p>"Claude!" repeated Miss Fitzgerald, in astonishment. "Do you know
+Claude? I never heard him speak of you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, perhaps not," I said; "but I do know him very well indeed; we were
+playfellows when we were children, and have lived next door to each
+other all our lives."</p>
+
+<p>"How very strange that I never heard your name!" said Miss Fitzgerald.
+"And I was staying at the Parsonage last spring; would you be at Acton
+then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "we had left a little time before you went there. Do you
+remember noticing a house, standing in a large garden, close to the
+Parsonage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," said Miss Fitzgerald; "it was shut up when I was there, and
+Claude said the doctor used to live there."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the doctor was my father," I said, checking the tears, which
+would come in spite of myself, and which nearly choked me.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's very funny!" said Evelyn. "That you should know this
+dearly beloved Claude, about whom I have heard so much lately! Do you
+know he is coming here to-morrow, to make my acquaintance? Papa has
+invited him to come for a day or two whilst Alice is here."</p>
+
+<p>Claude coming to Alliston Hall Claude coming to-morrow! How I wished
+that my stay at the old Manor House had been a little longer. I made
+some excuse to leave the room soon afterwards, and went to my own
+bedroom, and locked the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Claude coming to-morrow!" I repeated over and over to myself.</p>
+
+<p>All the old trouble seemed to have come back again. I had hoped that I
+should never see him again, that our paths in life would never cross
+each other. And now Claude was coming to-morrow. How astonished he
+would be to see me here! I wondered how we should meet, and whether he
+would feel it as much as I did.</p>
+
+<p>As I sat alone in my room I prayed for grace and help, and I felt
+that the strength came as I prayed. Still I felt that I could not go
+downstairs, until Evelyn's maid came to tell me that Miss Trafford
+wanted me.</p>
+
+<p>"You naughty girl!" said Evelyn when I entered. "What have you been
+doing? Why, you are as cold as ice; come to the fire and warm your
+hands. I really could not let you stop up there any longer. Do you know
+I thought you were, at last, turning into the brown alpaca! She always
+shut herself up in her bedroom half the day."</p>
+
+<p>"And, who in the world is the brown alpaca?" said Alice Fitzgerald. "Do
+tell me about her, Evelyn."</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was only too pleased to do so. And then we went on from one
+laughable subject to another, and Alice Fitzgerald told us a number of
+amusing stories, in such an absurd way that we laughed until we were
+quite tired.</p>
+
+<p>"There," she said, at last, as Evelyn declared that she had not laughed
+so much the whole time she had been ill, and that she felt all the
+better for it, "that's just what I was saying before Miss Lindsay came
+into the room; if only people, when they are in low spirits would laugh
+more, they would be all the happier."</p>
+
+<p>"But when you are in trouble you can't laugh, Miss Fitzgerald," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then, you should try," she said; "try to forget the trouble, and
+laugh it off. That's always my way when anything bothers me or vexes
+me. I try to think of something amusing, and forget it."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you always succeed?" I ventured to ask.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no, not quite always," she said, rather gravely.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first time that I had seen her look grave; her merry,
+laughing face was clouded for a moment. But it was only for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow," she said, "if you don't quite succeed in forgetting your
+trouble, it does not make it so hard to bear; it is better to go
+laughing through a trouble than crying through it. But laugh it off if
+you can, that's much the best way."</p>
+
+<p>"But, suppose you can't laugh it off," I said; "you owned that there
+were some troubles which were too deep to be got rid of in this
+way—suppose you can't laugh it off, and the trouble comes back after
+every laugh as heavy as ever—what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then," she said, with a shrug of her shoulders, "we must bear it,
+I suppose—bear it as best we can. Don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never try to laugh trouble away," I said; "I try to pray it away."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said, scornfully, "you believe in prayer, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; don't you, Miss Fitzgerald?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not now," she said; "I did once. That is to say, I never prayed
+much myself, but I used to believe that it did some people good; but
+Claude says that is all nonsense. My brother Arthur and he are always
+having long discussions about these things. Arthur believes in the
+Bible with all his heart and soul, and Claude does nothing but laugh at
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"And you agree with Claude, of course," said Evelyn, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Alice, "I agree with him; and yet, do you know, I sometimes
+wish I didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"May I ask, why not?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, "you mustn't tell Claude, he would be so angry; but I
+can't help thinking if Arthur should be right after all—what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, what then?" I said. "If the Bible is true—what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why then," she said, laughing again, "we are all lost, I suppose; so
+the best we can do is to enjoy ourselves as much now as we can. A short
+life and a merry one, that's my motto! Well, I suppose it is getting
+near dinner time," she said, as she hastily rose, gathering up her
+work, and left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"She is a queer girl," said Evelyn, as soon as the door was shut.</p>
+
+<p>"She is not really happy, Evelyn," I said. "She tries to laugh it off,
+as she says; but there is a great deal of miserable uncertainty in her
+heart, I feel sure of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Evelyn, turning the subject, "won't you dress for dinner?
+Ambrose will be here in a moment."</p>
+
+<p>So I left the room and went upstairs, and prayed very, very earnestly
+for them both, and especially for Alice Fitzgerald. Oh, if she only
+knew where true joy was to be found!</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next day Claude arrived. I was in Evelyn's sitting-room when Alice
+Fitzgerald brought him in to introduce him to her. And then she turned
+to me.</p>
+
+<p>"An old friend of yours, Claude, I believe," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Claude started; he had not noticed me before. "May—Miss Lindsay," he
+said, colouring painfully, "I did not expect to see you here."</p>
+
+<p>And then he turned the subject quickly, and began to give us an account
+of his journey, his Oxford adventures, and all sorts of other things,
+till dinner was announced.</p>
+
+<p>I could see that he was not at his ease, and I was almost afraid that
+Alice Fitzgerald noticed it also.</p>
+
+<p>I saw very little more of Claude that evening, for I always dined
+upstairs with Evelyn, and he spent the evening in talking politics with
+Sir William over the library fire.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>But the next morning when I came downstairs, Claude was alone in the
+breakfast-room. I shook hands with him, and said "Good morning;" and
+then was about to leave the room again, when he called me back, and
+said hurriedly:</p>
+
+<p>"May, what did you tell them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell whom?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell her," he said, in a hoarse whisper. "What did you tell her about
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only that we played together when we were children, and lived next
+door to each other."</p>
+
+<p>"Was that all?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, every word," I answered. "You surely did not think, Claude—"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," he said, "of course not, only it's more comfortable to know.
+All right, May," he added, carelessly, "we will let bygones be bygones
+now."</p>
+
+<p>And then he sat down to the piano and played a merry air.</p>
+
+<p>I stood and looked out of the window, and wondered at the shallowness
+of his heart. And I felt, as I had never felt before, that I had not
+made a bad choice when I chose Christ's love and gave up Claude's.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes the others came down, and we had breakfast; and whilst
+we were at breakfast, Ambrose came in with the letter-bag, which
+he solemnly laid before Sir William, as was his daily custom. Sir
+William took a key from his watch-chain and unlocked the bag, and then
+proceeded to distribute the letters.</p>
+
+<p>"None for you this morning, Miss Alice," he said, laughing. "Which
+would you choose: to have your young man here to talk to you, or to get
+a letter from him? None for you, Miss Lindsay, not a single one; six
+for me, and one for Mr. Ellis—that's all!"</p>
+
+<p>Claude took his letter, opened it, and glanced hastily through it. The
+contents did not seem to be of the most agreeable nature, for he looked
+very annoyed as he read it, and then crushed it up impatiently, and
+thrust it into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>Alice glanced inquiringly at him, but Claude appeared to be engrossed
+in the carving of a chicken, and took no notice of her inquiring looks.</p>
+
+<p>When breakfast was over, Sir William went into the library, where he
+generally spent the morning looking over the newspapers and writing his
+letters.</p>
+
+<p>We went up to Evelyn's room. I thought Alice wanted to linger behind,
+that she might speak to Claude; but he did not seem disposed to take
+the hint, and followed me closely upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>We found Evelyn lying on the sofa, and waiting for me to show her how
+to do a new pattern in crochet work, which I had learnt from Aunt Jane,
+who was very clever with her fingers. I sat down on a low stool close
+to Evelyn, directing her as she worked; and Alice and Claude went to
+the other end of the room, into the large bow window.</p>
+
+<p>Claude had brought a newspaper upstairs with him, and, throwing himself
+into an arm-chair, he began to read it, with an air which plainly
+intimated that he did not wish to be disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>Alice Fitzgerald came behind him, and leaning over his shoulder,
+with her arm on the back of the chair, she seemed to be reading the
+newspaper with him. But after a minute or two I heard her say:</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see that letter, Claude; what was it about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it was nothing particular," said Claude, turning to another part
+of the newspaper; "it was only a business letter."</p>
+
+<p>"That's always the way with men," said Evelyn, laughing; "whenever they
+don't want you to see a letter they always say, 'It's only a business
+letter.' Papa always does so, and it's of no use my telling him that I
+like business letters; he only laughs and says, 'Women don't understand
+business, or, if they do, they ought not.'"</p>
+
+<p>But Alice Fitzgerald did not let the matter drop. In a few minutes I
+heard her ask again from whom the letter had come, and Claude answered
+in a vexed tone:</p>
+
+<p>"It is only from my father, Alice. There, take it and read it if you
+make such a fuss about it!" And he tossed the letter out of his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>Alice sat down and read it, and when she had gone through it once, she
+turned it over and read it again, and then, folding it up very gravely
+and slowly, she handed it back to Claude. He put it into his pocket,
+and went on reading.</p>
+
+<p>Alice leant over his shoulder, and her face, which was generally so
+bright and merry, was very grave and thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn and I were busy with our pattern, and for some minutes no one
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>Then I heard Alice say, in a low voice, "What enclosures were there,
+Claude? What is it that has vexed your father so much?"</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image030" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image030.jpg" alt="image030"></figure>
+<p class="t4">
+<b>CLAUDE BURNS THE LETTERS.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, only some rubbishy old bills," said Claude, impatiently; "those
+Oxford tradesmen are the greatest scoundrels on the face of the earth!
+It's always their way! But the best plan is to take no notice of them;
+shy their bills into the fire, and leave them alone."</p>
+
+<p>And, in spite of Alice's remonstrances, he walked to the fireplace,
+and thrust a roll of letters, which he took from his pocket, into the
+flames, and watched them turn to ashes.</p>
+
+<p>"They will send them in again, Claude," said Alice, gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I shall burn them again," he said, with a laugh; "the rascals
+ought to know better!"</p>
+
+<p>"But are you quite sure they are wrong, Claude?" she said, as they went
+back to the window. "Are you quite sure you never bought any of the
+things? Have you looked them carefully through?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know all about it," said Claude, in a vexed voice; "do let it
+alone, dear. I have plenty of money to pay them all, if necessary; so
+please leave me to manage my own affairs. There's a splendid leader in
+the 'Times' to-day, Miss Trafford; have you read it?" he said, turning
+to Evelyn, and beginning a conversation with her on the politics of
+Europe.</p>
+
+<p>Alice Fitzgerald left the window, took her work out of her pocket, and
+sat on a low stool by the fire; but she did not recover her usual good
+spirits for some time afterwards.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image031" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image031.jpg" alt="image031">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>WAS THE PROMISE BINDING?</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image032" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image032.jpg" alt="image032">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;FROM this time, as the spring advanced, Evelyn began to
+grow much stronger, and the doctors seemed very hopeful that she would
+soon be able entirely to leave off her invalid habits. She was strong
+enough to go upstairs and downstairs quite comfortably; and although
+she still spent a good deal of time on her couch, it was more because
+Sir William insisted upon it than because she felt it really necessary.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I began to think that my stay at Alliston Hall was drawing to a close,
+for when Evelyn was able to return to the gay and active life that she
+had led before her illness, she would not need me any longer; but when
+I once hinted at something of the kind to her, she vehemently declared
+that I should never leave her, and that she should be ill again
+directly, if I were to go away.</p>
+
+<p>If I had had a pleasant life before, it was still more pleasant now;
+for we were able to drive out together, or to sit with our work on a
+seat on the lawn whenever the weather was warm enough.</p>
+
+<p>I shall never forget that spring. Everything looked so lovely in that
+beautiful park. The long avenue with its budding trees; the soft, fresh
+green of the grass; the woods yellow with primroses, and the birds
+singing their happy songs in the trees; everything seemed full of life
+and of joy.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was like a bird which has been long shut up in a cage and has
+suddenly regained its liberty. Her merry laugh was to be heard almost
+all day long, and her light step, as she went about the house again,
+showed that she was fast recovering her health and strength.</p>
+
+<p>Yet one thought troubled me. Could it be that the opportunity was
+gone—that I should never now be able to lead her to think seriously
+about her soul and about eternity? I had tried so very often since my
+visit to Branston to begin to talk to her about these things, but the
+attempt had always ended in failure; and though I prayed most earnestly
+that God would make a way for me, and give me the opportunity for
+which I was now eagerly watching, yet no way seemed to be opened, no
+opportunity seemed to be given. And now Evelyn was getting well, and
+what chance was there that she would be led to think seriously when all
+around her was so bright and pleasant? Still I prayed on.</p>
+
+<p>I had found out a few poor people in the neighbourhood of Alliston
+Hall, amongst whom I was able to do a little work for the Master.
+There were one or two old people who were glad for me to read to them;
+and there was a girl, dying in consumption, who was always pleased to
+see me. Thus, whenever I managed to get an afternoon for myself, when
+Evelyn was engaged with visitors, or was driving out with her father, I
+went across the park to visit these poor people, and always came back
+feeling refreshed in mind and body.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon I had been out rather longer than usual. I had left
+Evelyn busy with her letters, and, as it was now past post-time, I was
+afraid she would be wanting me, and would think that I had been a long
+time away. So, as soon as I had dressed for dinner, I hurried down to
+Evelyn's room.</p>
+
+<p>As I came up to the door I heard a voice inside, and when I went in, I
+found to my astonishment, that a young man was there. He was sitting
+on a footstool in front of the fire, stroking Evelyn's little dog, and
+was apparently quite at his ease. He was a very handsome man, tall and
+well-built, with fine features and large dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Who could he be? Where had he come from? I had not heard that any
+visitors were expected that day, and I was utterly at a loss to account
+for his sudden appearance.</p>
+
+<p>He jumped up when I came into the room, and threw himself into the
+arm-chair by the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Cousin Donald, May," said Evelyn as I came up to her; "do you
+think papa will be very angry with him for coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, of course not; why should he be?" said Mr. Trafford carelessly.
+"When a poor fellow has been toiling away day after day for months, it
+would be a crying shame to grudge him a little change of air when he
+happens to get a day's holiday."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you like the bank any better, Donald?" asked Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"Any better!" exclaimed Mr. Trafford, starting from his seat. "I hate
+it, Evelyn. I shall run away some day, I declare I shall."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, you won't, there's a dear, good Donald," she said; "papa would
+be so angry."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help that, Evelyn," he said; "you would run away if you were
+in my place; it is nothing but work, work, work, day after day, and I
+hate work. I can't help it, it is my nature. I was never meant to work;
+some people are, and they like work; but I never did and never shall."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Sir William's step was heard in the corridor.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's papa," said Evelyn, hurriedly; "oh, Donald, I wonder what he
+will say."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care," said Mr. Trafford, with a laugh; "if the old gentleman
+has the least sense of—"</p>
+
+<p>But here the door opened, and Sir William came in.</p>
+
+<p>His nephew rose to meet him in the most affectionate and confident
+manner, and as if he were perfectly sure of a welcome.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, uncle, how are you?" he said. "I'm so glad to find Evelyn
+better; it is so nice to see you again, uncle."</p>
+
+<p>Sir William took his hand and shook it coldly. "And pray where did you
+come from, Donald?" he said, sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the fact is, uncle," said the young man, "to-day is a bank
+holiday, and I have been working so hard lately that I thought a little
+fresh air would set me up again, and as I had not seen you for such a
+long time, I thought I would look you up."</p>
+
+<p>"When I was a young man, Donald," said his uncle, dryly, "I waited for
+an invitation before I went to visit my friends."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Trafford coloured, but he answered gaily: "I can put up at the
+'Royal Oak,' to-night, uncle, if it is at all inconvenient for me to
+stay here; I did not think the house would be full at this time of the
+year."</p>
+
+<p>Sir William did not answer him, but turning to Evelyn, told her that
+the gong had sounded, and asked her if she wished to go downstairs to
+dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"No, papa," said Evelyn; "I think May and I will dine upstairs. I feel
+rather tired this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then, we will go downstairs, Donald," said Sir William; and
+they left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, May," said Evelyn, as soon as the door was shut, "I am afraid
+papa is very angry; I never saw him look so vexed before. But I don't
+know why he should be so angry, do you? It isn't as if Donald was no
+relation of ours, and I am sure he is very nice. I can't think why papa
+is always so vexed when he comes here."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry you are so tired, Evelyn dear," I said, as I made her
+lie down on the sofa till dinner was brought upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm not so very tired, May," she said, "but I wanted papa and
+Donald to have dinner alone, because, don't you see, papa will be
+obliged to talk to him now. If we were there, I know just how it would
+be. Papa would talk to you and talk to me, and hardly say a word to
+Donald. But now, you see, he must talk to him, because there is no one
+else there, and you will see they will be quite friendly after dinner;
+at least, matters will be much better than they are now."</p>
+
+<p>And, to a certain extent, Evelyn was right. When we went into the
+library we found Mr. Trafford sitting comfortably in an easy chair,
+with the "Times" newspaper in his hand, discussing the events of the
+day with his uncle, apparently quite at his ease, and looking as
+comfortable as if his presence in Alliston Hall was the result of an
+urgent and pressing invitation.</p>
+
+<p>And Sir William? He was not at his ease. I could see that by his
+tightly compressed mouth when his nephew was speaking, and by the
+careful way in which he tried to engross Evelyn's attention as soon as
+she came into the room. But still I could see that he found it very
+difficult to keep up any appearance of displeasure in the face of Mr.
+Trafford's pleasant, cheerful manner, and almost impossible to quarrel
+with a man who was quite determined not to quarrel with him.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was very silent the whole evening, and seemed in bad spirits.
+She talked a little to me, but she very seldom spoke to her father or
+her cousin. Altogether it was a most uncomfortable evening, and I was
+not sorry when it was over.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next day we did not see much of Mr. Trafford, for Sir William took
+him out with him after breakfast, and managed to keep him to himself
+nearly the whole day. Only once, when Sir William was unavoidably
+absent for a short time, was he left in the library with Evelyn and me.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you liked the bank better, Donald," said Evelyn, as soon as her
+father had left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I never shall like it better, Evelyn," he said, impetuously; "it is
+absurd my trying to live in London on the miserable allowance I get
+there. It is utterly ridiculous; no gentleman could do it."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Donald," Evelyn said, "you really should be more careful of your
+money; you ought never to have bought—"</p>
+
+<p>At a sign from him, she stopped suddenly short in what she was saying.</p>
+
+<p>"You really ought not; ought you, Donald?" she said, instead.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes I ought, Evelyn," he said, in rather an annoyed voice; "it's all
+right. But it is really absurd their paying a fellow such a miserable
+salary. I don't mean to stand it much longer. I shall run away, and try
+my fortune somewhere else."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, Donald dear, you must not run away," said Evelyn, beseechingly;
+"just think how angry papa would be!"</p>
+
+<p>But just then Sir William came back, and invited Mr. Trafford to walk
+with him as far as his farm-bailiff's house, and we did not see him
+again until he came to take leave of us before starting for the railway
+station. He whispered something to Evelyn as he bent over her to say
+good-bye, and I distinctly caught the words, "Remember—promise;" and
+then he hastily shook hands with me and went out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>I never knew Evelyn so difficult to please as she was that evening.
+Nothing that I did seemed to be right, and she was fretful and tired;
+and even when her father was in the room, she made no effort to rouse
+herself or to talk to him.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William looked at her very anxiously from time to time. I could
+see that he attributed this change in her to her cousin's visit, and I
+heard him once expressing a hope that that was the very last time that
+Master Donald would come without an invitation; he did not approve of
+the free-and-easy manners of the rising generation, and he was glad
+that he had spoken to him pretty plainly on the subject.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn went early to bed, and I went to my room, but not to sleep. I
+felt very unhappy and perplexed. These two words which I had heard,
+against my will, haunted me: "'Remember—promise.'"</p>
+
+<p>What did he mean by it? What was Evelyn to remember, and what promise
+had she made which she would not either speak to her father or to me?
+It was so unlike Evelyn to keep a secret. She generally came out with
+everything at once, and told me just what she was thinking about. I
+felt sure that this must be something she did not wish her father to
+know, and the thought troubled me very much indeed.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>As I got up the next morning, I prayed for grace and strength to help
+me, if possible, to influence Evelyn to do what was right.</p>
+
+<p>I found her in a very different frame of mind from what she had been
+the night before. She was still silent, and looked unhappy, but she was
+very loving and affectionate to me.</p>
+
+<p>"May, darling," she said, as she put her arms round my neck, and kissed
+me, "are you very angry with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Angry with you? No indeed, Evelyn," I said; "why should I be angry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I was so horrid to you last night, I know I was; I can't bear to
+think how nasty and disagreeable I was. How you must have hated me!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Evelyn dear," I said; "you were only tired and—"</p>
+
+<p>"And what?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"And troubled, were you not, dear?" I ventured to say. "Troubled about
+something of which I did not know, and so could not sympathise with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I was very bothered and troubled, and I wanted to
+tell you about it so much; but I did not know whether I ought to do so."</p>
+
+<p>I did not answer her, but went on quietly with my work.</p>
+
+<p>After a minute or two she said in a whisper: "May, I'm not going to
+tell you anything, but I'm going to show you something. That won't
+be telling, will it? Hush! Is that any one coming? No, it is no one
+coming; it is only Clemence going downstairs; but, mind, if the door
+opens, you must look just the same as usual, and not say a word. Mind!"</p>
+
+<p>She drew from her pocket a little leathern case and opened it. Inside
+was a beautiful diamond ring.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it pretty?" she asked, as she showed it to me.</p>
+
+<p>"Very pretty," I said, "very beautiful. Did Sir William give it to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," she said; "papa does not know anything about it, and I must
+not tell him. You can guess who gave it to me; I am not going to tell
+you, but you can guess. And then, don't you see, if you know about it,
+then I can wear it sometimes; it seems such a pity never to wear it.
+I can put it on now and then, when we are here alone, and slip it off
+if I hear any one coming. Don't you think so, May dear? How grave you
+look!" she said, in an altered voice. "What is the matter? Are you very
+angry with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not angry," I said, "not angry, Evelyn; but I feel troubled about what
+you have told me. Why don't you tell your father about it, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I could not," she said; "he would be so vexed, so very vexed. I
+dare not tell him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you think he would be vexed?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, because it must have cost such a great deal of money. Look, May,
+they are real diamonds; and Donald has so little money to spend, and
+papa thinks he is so very extravagant. There! I've told you who gave it
+to me; I did not mean to do so, but of course you had guessed before."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would be much better if you told Sir William," I said;
+"he might be a little vexed at first with your cousin for giving so
+much money for it, but I am sure he would be far more vexed if, by any
+means, he found out that Mr. Trafford had given it to you, and yet you
+had never told him of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I know he would; but the worst of it is, that isn't
+all, May; if I told him that, I should have to tell him something
+else—I could not stop half-way."</p>
+
+<p>"But I think you ought to tell him all," I said, "and to hide nothing
+from him which you feel he ought to know. You would be much happier,
+Evelyn, if you told him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I know I should; but then you see I promised not to
+tell him, and it would never do to break my promise."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you promised to do what was wrong," I said, "it can surely not
+be right to keep your promise."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so, May?" she said. "I thought it was a dreadful thing to
+break a promise."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, so it is," I answered, "if there is nothing wrong in what we have
+promised; but if conscience tells us afterwards that we ought never to
+have made the promise, and that we cannot keep it without doing what is
+wrong, then I feel sure that we ought to break it."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so?" she said again.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure of it," I answered. "It is wrong to promise to do what is
+wrong, but to keep the promise is doubly wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that at all," she said; "I think if you promise to do
+anything, you ought to keep your promise, whether the thing is right or
+wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I should promise some enemy of yours that I would poison you,
+Evelyn," I said; "that would be wrong, would it not."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, very wrong," she said, laughing, though she had tears in her
+eyes; "what a dreadful illustration to use!"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, it will show you what I mean. It would be very wrong of me
+to promise to do such a wicked thing, but it would be still worse if I
+kept my promise, and really did poison you; now, wouldn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I see; of course it would!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I answered, "I think that rule applies to all promises. It
+is wrong to promise to do what is not right, but it is doubly wrong
+to keep our promise, and to do it; because, you see, that is only
+adding sin to sin. The making the promise is one wrong action, and the
+fulfilling the promise is only adding to it another and a still worse
+action."</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought of that before," she said; "I have been wishing
+ever since that I had not promised not to tell papa. You see, May, I
+promised Donald that afternoon, before you came in, that some day or
+other I would be his little wife. I know I ought not to have promised
+him, but he was so nice and seemed to love me so much. He said he had
+brought that ring with him that I might always keep it near me, and
+that whenever I looked at it I might think of my promise. And then he
+said that I must not tell papa, because he would be so very angry if
+he knew. I told Donald that I should be obliged to tell papa, for how
+could we ever be married if papa did not know about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"And what did Mr. Trafford say?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he said there was plenty of time for that—we could not be married
+for many a long day, and he would tell papa himself some day. So then
+he made me promise not to tell him till he gave me leave; and just then
+you came into the room, and we could not talk any more about it. I do
+wish I had never promised him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was a great pity," I said; "but now I think the best thing you
+can do is to write to Mr. Trafford, and tell him you feel you were very
+wrong to make the promise, and that you feel it would be still worse to
+keep it."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that would be a good plan?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "I am sure it is what you ought to do, Evelyn."</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer me at once, but sat looking into the fire and
+thinking.</p>
+
+<p>I sent up an earnest prayer that she might be led to do what was right.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she looked up at me, and said: "I can't do it, May, it is
+no use thinking of it; I can't tell papa. Donald would be so angry; I
+don't think he would ever forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn," I said, "you remember Herod's promise to give the daughter
+of Herodias whatever she asked for; and you remember why he kept that
+promise, even when the keeping of it made him commit murder."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said; "doesn't it say it was because of his oath's sake; I
+suppose Herod did not like to break his word."</p>
+
+<p>"And Evelyn," I said, "there is another reason given; do you remember
+what comes next?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; what is it?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"And because of 'them which sat with him at meat.' I think that was
+the real reason why Herod kept his word. It was not because he minded
+breaking his promise—he was not the kind of man to mind that—but it
+was because he was afraid of what his friends might say or think; he
+may have thought, too, that his wife would never forgive him, and so
+he kept his promise, and cut off John Baptist's head—he was not brave
+enough to do what he knew was right."</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn covered her face with her hands and cried.</p>
+
+<p>I sat beside her and put my arm round her, and we sat thus for some
+time in silence.</p>
+
+<p>Then she suddenly jumped up, went to the table, opened her portfolio,
+and began to write.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to be very brave, May," she said, as she smiled through her
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>What Evelyn said to her cousin I do not know, but she cried a great
+deal whilst she was writing it. Then she slipped the letter into her
+pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"It won't do to put it into the post-bag," she said; "we will got out
+at the post office, and post it when we drive out this afternoon, and
+then I will tell papa this evening, after dinner."</p>
+
+<p>Oh, how thankful I was to hear her express this determination! I felt
+as if a great load had been lifted off my heart.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image033" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image033.jpg" alt="image033">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image034" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image034.jpg" alt="image034">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>EVELYN'S CONFESSION.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image035" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image035.jpg" alt="image035">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;EVELYN was very pale, and trembled very much, as dinner
+time drew near. She went downstairs as usual, and tried to talk to
+her father, and to appear as if nothing was the matter; but I could
+see that it was a very great effort for her to do so, and that she
+was dreading the time when her secret must be told. She had posted
+the letter to her cousin that afternoon, so it was too late to draw
+back; and I do not think that she wished to do so, but she dreaded her
+father's displeasure, and longed to feel that the trying disclosure was
+made.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>When dinner was over we went into the library, and Sir William made
+Evelyn lie down on her couch, for he had noticed that she was pale and
+tired, and I, according to previous arrangement with Evelyn, made some
+excuse for leaving the room, and left her alone with her father.</p>
+
+<p>I went upstairs into Evelyn's room, and sat waiting for the result,
+and praying that she might have courage to tell Sir William all, and
+that he might not be very angry. It seemed a long time before any one
+came. I took up a book and tried to read, but, though my eyes followed
+the words, I could not fix my thoughts upon what I was reading. Then
+I tried to sew, but that attempt was also a failure. So I went to the
+window, and sat looking out at the setting sun till the room grew
+dark. Then Clemence, Evelyn's maid, came into the room for something,
+and, seeing that I was in darkness, she lighted the gas, and drew the
+curtains, and then once more I was left alone.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>At last I heard a step on the stairs. It was Sir William, and he was
+coming up alone. He came into the room, and shut the door behind him,
+and, coming up to me, he said kindly:</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Lindsay, I have to thank you for the kind way in which you have
+influenced Evelyn to-day. She tells me that it is entirely owing to
+you, that she has been led to confess to me her foolish conduct."</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite sure, Sir William," I said, "that Evelyn is very thankful
+that she has told you. She loves you so much, that it was misery for
+her to feel she was deceiving you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, poor child!" he said. "She has suffered a great deal these last
+two days. I do not blame her; of course she acted very wrongly, but the
+chief fault does not lie at her door."</p>
+
+<p>I did not answer, and he went on:</p>
+
+<p>"That nephew of mine wants putting in his proper place. I hope this
+will be a lesson that he will not forget! I shall not spare him, I can
+tell you. I ant afraid he is a designing fellow! Evelyn does not see
+through him, of course, but I do; and I shall let him know it too. But
+I need not trouble you with this, Miss Lindsay," he said, as he rose to
+leave the room. "I just wanted to thank you very much indeed for being
+a true, wise friend to my dear child, and to tell you how I value the
+influence you have over her."</p>
+
+<p>This was a great deal for Sir William to say. He had never before given
+even the slightest hint that he was pleased with anything I did. He was
+a very silent man, and seldom expressed his feelings, and, therefore,
+a few words of praise from him were worth double what they would have
+been had they come from any one else, and I felt very thankful that God
+had enabled me to please him in this matter.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn is coming upstairs now, Miss Lindsay," said Sir William, as he
+left the room; "will you be so kind as to see that she goes to bed at
+once?"</p>
+
+<p>I promised to do so, and presently he brought her upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>She looked very tired and troubled, and her eyes were swollen with
+crying, but she put her arms round my neck and kissed me, and was very
+loving and affectionate to me. When her father had gone downstairs she
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May! I am so glad I told papa, so very glad; I am so much happier
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"I was sure you would be, Evelyn dear," I said; "it is terrible to have
+a secret like that weighing on the mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I am very glad I told him; but oh, May, he was so
+angry—not with me, not half enough with me; he would not see that it
+was my fault, but he was terribly angry with Donald."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think you can be surprised at that, Evelyn dear," I said; "I
+do not think Mr. Trafford behaved honourably, and Sir William is such
+an honourable man himself that he felt it very keenly."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, perhaps so," she said; "but I don't think Donald meant any harm.
+Poor Donald does not think before he does things; he—"</p>
+
+<p>But I would not let Evelyn talk any more about it that night, but rang
+the bell for Clemence, and went with her to her bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>She kissed me at the door, and as she said "good-night," she whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"Papa has taken that ring, May; he says it must have cost at least £50,
+and he is sure Donald has no money to pay for it."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next morning no one alluded to what had happened the night before;
+even when we were alone Evelyn did not seem inclined to speak of it,
+and I made every effort that I could to turn her thoughts into another
+channel.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William spent most of that day in his private room writing letters,
+and we seldom saw him, but he was very tender and loving to Evelyn
+whenever he came into the room, and seemed anxious to make her feel how
+entirely he had forgiven her.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn and I were sitting together at the window with our work, when
+the man started for the village with the post-bag. Evelyn watched it
+out of sight, and then turned to me with a sorrowful face:</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Donald!" she said. "What will he say when he gets it?"</p>
+
+<p>It was the first time that she had mentioned her cousin that day.</p>
+
+<p>I begged her to try not to think of what he would say, but to feel
+very thankful that she had done what was right, and could now look her
+father in the face with a happy heart.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>It must have been, I think, two days after this that, as Evelyn was
+lying on the sofa reading, and I was sitting beside her writing a
+letter, we heard a carriage coming quickly up the avenue.</p>
+
+<p>"A carriage!" said Evelyn. "I wonder who is coming! Just look-out, May."</p>
+
+<p>I went to the window, but I did not know the carriage at all, and as
+it came nearer I saw that it was a hired one, and that there was one
+gentleman inside.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you see who it is?" Evelyn asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I can see him, Evelyn," I said, "but I do not know who it is; it is no
+one that I have ever seen before. I think he wants Sir William; he and
+Ambrose have come out upon the drive together, and Ambrose is pointing
+in various directions. There! He has sent the carriage away; he is
+evidently going to stay!"</p>
+
+<p>"This is quite exciting!" said Evelyn, laughing. "I must come and look."</p>
+
+<p>She put down her book, got up from the sofa, and came to the window.</p>
+
+<p>Ambrose was still talking to the strange gentleman in the middle of the
+drive, and pointing to the various parts of the park, as if he were
+trying to tell him where Sir William had gone.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May," she said, "it is Uncle Edward; what can he want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Edward?" I repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "Donald's father. Oh, I wonder why he has come! I am
+sure it is about Donald. What can be the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>She sat down looking quite faint and ill.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be troubled about it, Evelyn dear," I said, "very likely your
+uncle has only come in answer to Sir William's letter. Sir William
+would be sure to write to him about what you told him the other night;
+would he not? And most probably your uncle wants to talk it over with
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," she said, "that must be it; do you think I should go down and
+speak to Uncle Edward?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "you must lie down directly; you do not look at all fit
+to go downstairs, and I will tell Ambrose to ask your uncle to come up
+here."</p>
+
+<p>But before I had time to carry out my intention the door opened, and
+Mr. Edward Trafford came in.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do, Evelyn, my dear?" he said, in an agitated voice. "Can
+you tell me in which direction your father has gone? Ambrose has been
+trying to explain to me, but I could not quite make out what he meant,
+these different turnings in the park are so bewildering."</p>
+
+<p>"Had not you better wait, uncle, till papa comes back?" said Evelyn; "I
+do not think he can be long now, and you might miss him if you went to
+meet him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "so I might; I think I will wait."</p>
+
+<p>"You will have luncheon, uncle?" said Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no! Indeed, my dear," said her uncle; "no, I had something as I
+came along—no, I could not touch anything now. I will go downstairs and
+look if I can see your father coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Is anything the matter, uncle?" asked Evelyn, anxiously. "Are any of
+them ill at home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," he said, hurriedly, "no, dear, no one is ill. I just want to
+see your father on business."</p>
+
+<p>He was very pale and agitated, and looked, Evelyn said, years older
+than when she had seen him last.</p>
+
+<p>We watched him go out upon the drive again, and look first in one
+direction and then in another. Then he passed up and down in front of
+the house for more than half an hour, looking troubled and distressed,
+and with his eyes fixed on the ground, but glancing up hastily every
+few minutes to see if his brother was in sight.</p>
+
+<p>At last Sir William appeared, and we saw the brothers meet. They did
+not come into the house, but they turned into one of the private walks
+in the park, and paced up and down, backwards and forwards, for more
+than an hour. Each time that they turned round they came for some
+little distance within sight of the house, and then they were hidden
+from our view by the trees, and we could not see them again till they
+came back to the same place. They seemed to be talking very earnestly,
+and now and again they stood still and spoke to each other face to
+face, as though they were arguing some important point, on which
+they could not agree, or at least could not come to any satisfactory
+conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was very restless the whole time. She began to follow the
+example of her father and uncle, and to pace up and down the room; but
+I insisted on her putting her feet up on the sofa and remaining quiet.</p>
+
+<p>At length the two gentlemen brought their walk and their talk to a
+conclusion, and came towards the house. Sir William ran upstairs as
+soon as he came in.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you, my dear child?" he said to Evelyn, even more tenderly
+than usual. "You look so pale. Please take care of her, Miss Lindsay,
+and make her lie down."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, papa?" whispered Evelyn, whilst I prepared to
+leave the room, thinking Sir William might wish to speak to her alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I will tell you about it afterwards, dear," said her father; "it
+is some rather unpleasant business about which your uncle wanted to see
+me. Don't go away, please, Miss Lindsay; we have letters to write at
+once, I must not stay now."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of Evelyn's pleading glances, Sir William went downstairs, and
+he and his brother, after hastily partaking of dinner, spent the rest
+of the evening together in Sir William's private room.</p>
+
+<p>"What can it be?" Evelyn kept saying. "What can papa mean by unpleasant
+business? It can't be about what I told him the other night, or he
+would have said so. What can be the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>Of course, I could not help her to find out, we could only wonder and
+wait.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Edward Trafford left the next morning at a very early hour, that he
+might catch the first train for London. Sir William and I were alone at
+breakfast, for Evelyn was not well enough to rise.</p>
+
+<p>"How is Evelyn this morning?" said Sir William, anxiously, as I entered
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>I told him that she had had a bad night, and was still in bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! Oh dear!" he said. "I will not tell her to-day; I think it
+might upset her still more; I will wait till she is somewhat better."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think, Sir William," I ventured to say, "that the suspense
+of not knowing what is the matter is worse for Evelyn than knowing the
+truth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, perhaps you are right, Miss Lindsay," he said; "I will tell her
+after breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope it is no great trouble, Sir William?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it is a most unpleasant business," he said; "the fact is, that
+nephew of mine is a downright rascal. What poor Evelyn ever saw to
+admire in him I never could tell. I always knew he was good-for-nothing
+but mischief, and he has proved I was right. I will tell you about it,
+Miss Lindsay, and then you can advise me as to the best way of telling
+Evelyn. You know my brother was here yesterday—poor fellow, he is
+dreadfully crushed by it! I am very sorry for him, although, as I could
+not help telling him, he has himself to blame for it. He was so weak
+with that boy; he gave him everything he wanted as a child, and spoiled
+him, and pampered him, and petted him, and let him order every one in
+the house about, and then was foolish enough to expect him, after this,
+to turn out well, and to earn his own living.</p>
+
+<p>"But to make a long story short, my brother received a telegram the
+night before last, telling him that his son had run off from the bank,
+taking more than £500 with him. No one knows where he is gone, and, of
+course, detectives have been sent off in all directions to catch him,
+and his poor father is quite weighed down with shame and sorrow. If he
+is found, of course he will get a long term of imprisonment; and, if he
+escapes, it is not likely that his friends will ever hear of him again,
+for he will never dare to come to England."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do they think he has gone?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Probably to Spain," Sir William said, "but we cannot tell. And now,
+what do you think about my telling Evelyn? I am afraid it will upset
+her very much!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "I am afraid it will; she will feel it dreadfully, but
+still I almost think it would be better to tell her, for she must know
+some time, and she will be less able to bear it if she is kept longer
+in suspense."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Sir William, "I believe you are right, Miss Lindsay; I
+will go upstairs now; it will be better to get it over."</p>
+
+<p>I sat waiting his return in the library, but more than an hour passed
+before he reappeared. Then he said, "I have told her, Miss Lindsay, and
+she bore it better than I expected, poor child. Will you go upstairs
+and try to comfort her a little?"</p>
+
+<p>I went upstairs, and found Evelyn still in bed; her face was buried in
+the pillow, and she was crying bitterly. I sat down beside her without
+speaking for some time, just holding her hand in mine, to show her how
+much I was feeling for her. What could I say to comfort her? I hardly
+knew what to say, and perhaps, after all, silent sympathy was the best.</p>
+
+<p>At length, after a long time, she grew calmer, and then she said,
+without uncovering her face:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May, isn't it dreadful?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, darling," I said, "I am very, very sorry; I had no idea it was
+anything so dreadful as that!"</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, "and I am sure I had not; the very worst that I could
+think of was that Donald had got very badly into debt, and had wasted
+all his money. I never dreamt that he—"</p>
+
+<p>But here she burst into tears, and could not go on with what she was
+saying.</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn, dear," I said, "for your father's sake, try not to make
+yourself ill; he is so fond of you, and so distressed at the thought of
+what this trouble must be to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said through her tears, "papa has been so kind, so very,
+very kind. He told me that it was because he loved me so much that he
+could not bear to think of me caring for Donald. Papa says he always
+thought that Donald was good-for-nothing; but he seemed so nice, May,
+so very nice he was to me. I knew he was foolish and careless, but I
+never thought he could do a wicked thing like that!"</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn had stopped crying now, and could talk quite calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember, May," she said, "when he was here last, something
+that Donald said to you and to me about running away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "I remember it quite well; he mentioned it twice when I
+was in the room."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "so he did. Oh, May, could he have been thinking of
+taking the money then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know, dear," I said, "we must hope not; we must hope that he
+yielded to a sudden temptation, and that he has been sorry for it ever
+since."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May, I am afraid not," said Evelyn; "do you know I seem to see
+Donald in quite a different light from what I did before,—more as papa
+has been seeing him all the time. I am afraid papa was right about him,
+May, and I was wrong. Ah! Poor, poor Donald!"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you ring for Clemence, May?" Evelyn said, a few minutes after
+this, "and I will get up; I shall feel better if I am dressed and in
+the other room."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>But the other room made very little difference in poor Evelyn's
+spirits. She tried to work, she tried to read, she tried to write,
+but all were alike impossible; her thoughts were ever busy with her
+trouble, and every attempt to divert them was in vain.</p>
+
+<p>As the day went on, she talked much more, and it seemed a relief to her
+to tell me everything that her father had told her that morning.</p>
+
+<p>"May," she said, "did papa tell you about the ring?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "he only just told me in a few words what was the matter,
+that I might be able to tell him whether I thought it would be better
+to tell you about it at once, or to wait until to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am so glad you asked him to tell me to-day," said Evelyn; "it
+would have been dreadful to have waited all that time, and not to have
+known what was the matter. But I was going to tell you about the ring.
+You know Uncle Edward went, first of all, as soon as he received the
+telegram, to London, that he might hear all he could about Donald's
+disappearance. He went, amongst other places, to his lodgings, and
+looked about the room, and turned over all his papers, to see if he had
+left any note behind him; and do you know Uncle Edward found such a
+quantity of bills, most of them unopened, and all of them unpaid, and
+amongst others there was one from a London jeweller for a diamond ring
+worth £75. Uncle Edward could not imagine why Donald had bought such an
+expensive ring, and said it would be a very heavy sum to pay, for he
+means to pay as many of the tradesmen as he can. So then papa told him
+the story of the ring, and gave it back to him, that he might return it
+to the jeweller instead of paying the bill. Uncle Edward was very much
+annoyed that Donald should have treated papa so badly, after papa's
+kindness to him, for he would never have got that good place in the
+bank if it had not been for papa."</p>
+
+<p>Oh, how I wondered if this was the opportunity for which I had been
+praying so long, the opportunity of speaking to my dear Evelyn about
+eternal things, and of leading her to the Saviour. I hoped it was, and
+I turned the hope into an earnest prayer, that I might have the wisdom
+to follow as God should lead, to step into the door as soon as ever His
+hand opened it. Once or twice I thought of speaking, but then again I
+felt, perhaps, that, till the first burst of her sorrow was over, it
+was wiser to be silent. But a sweet thought came across me as I sat at
+my work that evening, that, after all, the nearest way to reach the
+heart of one we love is to go round by heaven; and I tried, oh, how
+earnestly, to reach Evelyn's heart in that way.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image036" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image036.jpg" alt="image036">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>THE OPPORTUNITY GIVEN.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image037" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image037.jpg" alt="image037">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;THE next morning, as I was looking at the newspaper on
+the library table, my eyes caught the words "Ellis—Fitzgerald."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I found that it was an announcement of Claude's and Alice's marriage.
+It was wonderful to me how calmly and composedly I could read it.
+That trouble was, in deed and in truth, a thing of the past. I could
+"rejoice to-day; the pain was over long ago." I could thank God, with
+all my heart, that He had not let me yield to the temptation which at
+that time was so strong to me, and that He had saved me from the lot
+which, a year ago, I had thought would be so bright.</p>
+
+<p>I took the newspaper with me when I went to Evelyn's room, and pointed
+to the marriage. I thought it might help to turn her thoughts a little
+from her trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"So Alice is married, poor girl!" she said. "I had forgotten that it
+was to be so soon."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you call her poor, Evelyn?" I asked. "Most people would say
+happy girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Evelyn, "perhaps I ought not to have said so.
+Mr. Ellis is a great friend of yours, I know; but, somehow, I do not
+think I should like to marry him myself; now would you, May?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, very decidedly, "not at all."</p>
+
+<p>We went on with our work without speaking for some time, and then
+Evelyn asked:</p>
+
+<p>"May, do you remember what Alice Fitzgerald said about laughing trouble
+away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "quite well."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't at all agree with her," said Evelyn; "I can't laugh when I am
+in trouble, it would be of no use trying. I could not laugh to-day—if I
+tried to laugh, I should begin to cry directly."</p>
+
+<p>"And even if you could laugh, Evelyn dear," I said, "the trouble would
+come back again the next moment heavier than ever."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May," said Evelyn, suddenly, "I wish I could do the other thing."</p>
+
+<p>"What other thing?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, pray," she said. "Don't you remember you said that you always
+prayed when you were in trouble. I wish I could do that."</p>
+
+<p>I did not answer her until I had sent up an earnest prayer that I might
+use the opportunity now that it was given to me, and that I might step
+inside the door, which at last seemed to be opened to me.</p>
+
+<p>"But why can't you pray, Evelyn dear?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, May, I will tell you why," she said; "I have wanted to talk to
+you about it so very much, only I didn't like to begin. You see I have
+been thinking a great deal lately, and wishing that I was happy like
+you; and, one day when you were out of the room, you left on the table
+a bundle of those little books that you take with you when you go to
+see your poor people; so what do you think I did? I thought I should
+like to see what they were about, so I got one and read it; and then I
+put it back so carefully afterwards, just in the same place, that you
+might not find out what I had been doing. You did not find out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," I said, "indeed I did not; but which one was it that you read?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was about the prodigal son; don't you remember that one?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "I have not read them all; was it a nice one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, very nice, and it made it very clear about prayer. I have been
+thinking of it often since."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you tell me what you read?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It pictured the prodigal son," said Evelyn, "going home, after he had
+treated his poor old father so badly, and beginning: 'Please, father,
+I want a new coat,' or, 'Please, father, give me some new shoes,' or,
+'Please, father, I want some food very much.' It pictured him asking
+his father to supply his wants before ever he had asked him to forgive
+him for his bad behaviour to him. That wouldn't have been the right
+way, would it, May?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, "it would not have done for that to come before the
+'Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more
+worthy to be called thy son.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Evelyn, "and your little book said it was just the same
+now, and yet so many people wanted to go to God, and to ask Him for
+all sorts of things when they got into trouble, and yet they had never
+thought of asking Him to forgive them."</p>
+
+<p>"I see what you mean," I said; "we must speak to God about our sins,
+before we can speak to Him about our troubles."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May," said Evelyn, "I wish I could do that. I wish I could talk
+to God about my sins. I never know till now how bad I had been to Him;
+but last night I seemed to see myself in quite a different way. I used
+to think, May, that I was not so very bad. I didn't think that I was
+at all good like you, still I thought that there was not so very much
+wrong with me. But now I see that I'm bad altogether; I don't think I
+have ever done anything good at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you go and tell God that, Evelyn darling, just as you have
+been telling me? That would be a prayer, just like the prayer of the
+prodigal son, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, May," she said; "but suppose I tell Him that with all my heart,
+is that enough?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, quite enough, if you ask God to forgive you because Jesus has
+died, and if you trust in Jesus as your own Saviour," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May," said Evelyn, with a sigh, "come and sit beside me, and make
+it very plain and simple for me—as you would for a little child. I am
+so much afraid of making a mistake."</p>
+
+<p>Oh, how earnestly I prayed that I might also make no mistake, but might
+be helped to lead her to Jesus!</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn," I said, "I want to tell you something that I was reading in
+one of my favourite books the other day, because I think it makes it so
+very plain. You remember the three crosses on Calvary?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "there was the middle cross, with Jesus on it, and on
+each side of Him there was a thief."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "and both the thieves had been great sinners, both had
+led bad lives, and yet, oh, how differently they died! One thief went
+straight to Paradise, to be welcomed there by Jesus, the other went
+down to hell. Now, why was there this difference? Did you ever think
+why it was that one thief was saved, and the other thief was lost?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," she said, "it was because one thief looked to Jesus, and
+the other did not."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "quite so; but that is not all. What did looking to
+Jesus do for the thief?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I answered, "my book puts it in this way. Both thieves deserved
+to go to hell because of their sins; both of them before they were
+nailed to the cross had sin in them, for they both had sinful hearts,
+they were born in sin, and they were both sinners. And they had also
+both of them sin on them, the burden and guilt and punishment of their
+sins resting on them; they both must suffer the consequences of their
+sin—both must go to hell."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I see that."</p>
+
+<p>"But now let us look at them again some hours later. They have been
+nailed to the cross, and one thief has looked to Jesus, but the other
+thief has not. Just look at the three crosses now. First, here is the
+thief who would have nothing to do with Jesus. Has he still sin in him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Has he still the guilt of sin resting on him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is just as he was before."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then, look at the middle cross; look at Jesus, has He sin in Him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," she said, "He never sinned; He was quite holy."</p>
+
+<p>"But was there no sin on Him?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Was there, May?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I answered, "don't you remember it says, 'The Lord hath laid on
+Him the iniquity of us all.' It was not His own sin that was resting on
+Him, but ours."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," she said, "I see what you mean."</p>
+
+<p>"And now look at the third cross. There hangs the thief who has looked
+to Jesus. He still has sin in him; till he gets to heaven, his heart
+will be sinful still. But has he sin on him? That is to say, do the
+guilt and consequences of his sin still rest on him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't think they do," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," I said, "for he has laid his sin on Jesus; it is no longer
+resting on him: it is taken off him, and put on to Jesus, and therefore
+this thief is saved. Now, do you see what looking to Jesus means? It
+means that the thief looked to Jesus as the One who was being punished
+for his sin, and who was suffering in his place. Do you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I do," said Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my book goes on to say, that all the people in the world die as
+one or other of those thieves died. All without exception die with sin
+in them, for the Bible tells us that 'if we say that we have no sin we
+deceive ourselves.' But those who look to Jesus as the One who has been
+punished in their place, though they have sin in them till they die,
+yet they have no sin on them, for the guilt and responsibility of their
+sins no longer rests on them, but on Jesus. You remember that hymn:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+"'I lay my sins on Jesus,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The spotless Lamb of God;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;He bears them all, and frees us<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;From the accursed load.'"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I like that hymn very much. I do wish I could do it,
+May."</p>
+
+<p>"You are going to do it this morning, Evelyn dear," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May, do you think I can?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure of it, darling; Jesus is willing, Jesus is longing for you
+to cast your sin upon Him. He says to you: 'Look unto Me, as the One
+who died instead of you; look unto Me, as the One who was punished in
+your place; look unto Me, and be ye saved.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May, I should like to do it at once," she said.</p>
+
+<p>So I went downstairs and left her alone, and yet not alone.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>I did not see Evelyn again till I went upstairs to her room for
+luncheon. She was lying quietly on the sofa where I had left her, but
+she called me to her side and whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May, I am so happy now. Sin is still in me, but no longer on me,
+for I have laid it on Jesus."</p>
+
+<p>I need hardly say how very thankful I felt to God for answering my
+prayer. It seemed almost too good to be true. A blessing that we have
+been waiting for, anxiously longing and waiting for, is always of
+double value when it comes.</p>
+
+<p>From that day I began, as it were, a new life in Alliston Hall. Before
+this, Evelyn used to dislike and avoid any approach to what she
+considered "religious talk;" but now her great delight was to read a
+chapter with me in the Bible, and to ask me questions about anything
+which she did not quite understand.</p>
+
+<p>I shall never forget that summer; it was a very peaceful and a very
+happy one. I had every reason to believe that Evelyn's heart was indeed
+changed. Every one noticed the difference in her, and many, who did not
+understand what is the power of the Holy Spirit in the heart, wondered
+what was the cause of it.</p>
+
+<p>There was one who rejoiced in this change in Evelyn quite as much as I
+did, and that one was Miss Irvine. She spent nearly the whole summer at
+Alliston Hall, and Evelyn, instead of avoiding her company as she had
+so often done before, delighted to have her with her, that they might
+talk together about heavenly things.</p>
+
+<p>Day by day Evelyn grew in grace, and seemed more anxious about the
+welfare of her own soul, and of the souls of those around her. She
+was much braver than I was, in speaking to others about their eternal
+welfare. I often felt ashamed of myself when she told me how she had
+spoken to Clemence, or to one of the other servants; and she did it in
+such a simple, natural way, that it was always well received, and never
+gave offence.</p>
+
+<p>But, though Evelyn was growing in grace day by day, she was not growing
+in bodily strength. Indeed, as the summer went on she seemed to get
+weaker instead of stronger. The trouble she had had about her cousin
+Donald had been so sudden and unexpected, that she had not recovered
+from the effects of it.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn never, so far as I knew, mentioned her cousin's name in Sir
+William's presence, and only once did she name him to me, when she
+asked me if I knew whether anything had been heard of him; but I
+noticed how anxiously she asked for the newspapers every day, and with
+what trembling fingers she turned over the pages. There had been an
+account of the affair in the "Times" the same week that it happened,
+and Evelyn was continually expecting to find that Mr. Trafford had been
+apprehended. But there was no further notice of it in the newspapers,
+and, one day, Sir William told me that his nephew had evidently made
+his escape to some foreign land, and he did not think that he would
+ever be heard of again.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>As the summer passed away, and the days became shorter and the nights
+cooler, Evelyn became no stronger; she had a very troublesome cough,
+which kept her awake at night, and she looked pale and fragile.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William was very anxious about her, and had many consultations with
+the doctors, and at last it was agreed that the best thing possible for
+her would be to leave England for a time and to spend the winter abroad.</p>
+
+<p>The doctors said that the warmer climate would be good for her health,
+and Sir William felt that the excitement and pleasure of travelling
+would turn her thoughts, more than anything else, from her trouble and
+disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>"And where do you think we are going, May?" said Evelyn, when she had
+told me with great joy what her father had decided.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know at all, Evelyn," I said; "I thought perhaps it would be
+to Mentone, or perhaps somewhere in Italy."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," said Evelyn; "nowhere so commonplace as that! Guess again!"</p>
+
+<p>But I could not guess, so she told me, with great delight, that Sir
+William's plan was to go down the Mediterranean to Egypt, and then, if
+Evelyn was well enough, to go on in the early spring to Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>"To Jerusalem! Oh, Evelyn," I said, "you will enjoy that."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and so will you, May," she said. "I know how you long to go
+there; I was quite as glad for you as for myself, when papa told me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Evelyn," I said; "do you mean to say that I am going too? I never
+dreamt of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you are going," she said, indignantly. "Do you think I could
+do without you? Oh, May, isn't it delightful!"</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to me far too good and too wonderful to be true. To go to
+Jerusalem, the city which our Lord loved, and over which He wept; to
+see the hillsides where He so often sat, and to tread the mountain
+paths on which His feet had so often walked,—this seemed far too great
+a joy ever to be mine.</p>
+
+<p>But there was very little time to sit and dream over it, for we were
+plunged, at once, into all the bustle and confusion which a departure
+from home for a long time causes in large households as well as in
+small ones.</p>
+
+<p>We were to start in three weeks' time, for Sir William was anxious
+that we should get the sea-voyage over before the weather became
+colder and more unsettled. He very kindly gave me leave to go to the
+Manor House at Branston for a few days, that I might say good-bye to
+my little sister before being parted from her for so long. I should
+never have thought of asking for a holiday at this busy time, but Sir
+William proposed it himself, and was good enough to say, when I began
+to suggest difficulties, that he should insist upon my going whether I
+liked it or not.</p>
+
+<p>It was indeed a pleasure for me to see my dear little Maggie again, and
+the three sisters were kindness itself to me. But they did not at all
+like the idea of my going to Jerusalem; indeed, at first, they even
+wanted me to throw up my situation because of having to go abroad.</p>
+
+<p>However, when they saw that it was of no use trying to persuade me to
+do this, and that I was looking forward to the proposed journey as to a
+most delightful and pleasant thing, they all united in trying to warn
+me of the consequences. Miss Jane had a very ancient book, describing
+the adventures and narrow escapes of some travellers in Palestine many
+years ago, and she brought this book out from her bookcase, and read
+all the most alarming passages for my edification, till poor Maggie was
+quite frightened, and clung to me, and said she would never let me go.</p>
+
+<p>I assured them that travelling in Palestine twenty years ago was a
+very different thing, and that now the dangers were much less, and the
+difficulties not nearly so numerous. But Miss Jane did nothing but
+shake her head mournfully, and said she should indeed be thankful if I
+came back alive; whilst Miss Hannah and Miss Louisa actually shed tears
+at the bare thought of the perils I was about to undergo. However, I
+comforted them by promising to write often, and I told them that I
+would give them an account of all my adventures, though I did not think
+they would be so exciting or remarkable as those of the gentlemen in
+Miss Jane's book.</p>
+
+<p>When I returned to Alliston Hall, I found that all necessary
+preparations were made for the journey. Sir William was anticipating it
+quite as much as we were. He had travelled a great deal when he was a
+young man, and he was looking forward with pleasure to taking Evelyn to
+some of the places which he had visited so many years before.</p>
+
+<p>At length the last night came, when everything was peeked, and we had
+nothing to do but to sit at the window and to talk of the journey
+before us.</p>
+
+<p>I was feeling the reaction, which so often comes after the excitement
+of preparations for a journey, and was almost wishing that, after all,
+we were not going so far away. Who could tell whether we should all
+return again? Who could tell whether I should ever see my little sister
+again?</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the door was opened, and a letter was brought in which
+had come by the evening post. The letter was from dear Miss Irvine, to
+say how much she should think of us whilst we Were travelling, and how
+often she should turn the text, which she enclosed, into prayer on our
+behalf.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the text, I wonder?" said Evelyn, as she put down the letter.
+"Oh, I see; here are two cards in the envelope; one for you, and one
+for me."</p>
+
+<p>She handed me mine, and the text seemed an answer to my fears:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this
+time forth, and even for evermore."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>And underneath the text there was this hymn:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+Going out from the ones I love<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Far over land and sea;<br>
+Going out into dreary ways,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Working, my Lord, for Thee;<br>
+Going out with an anxious heart,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Serving in earth's rough soil;<br>
+Going out to the daily fight—<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Worry, and care, and toil.<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+Going out when the work is done,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Leaving the earthly strife;<br>
+Going out to the unknown world,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Passing through death to life;<br>
+Going out, and yet, not alone,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Lord, Thou wilt go before:<br>
+Keep me, Lord, in my going out,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Now, and for evermore.<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+Coming in from the distant land,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Thankful no more to roam;<br>
+Coming in from the outer work,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Meeting the cares at home;<br>
+Coming in from the larger field,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Sowing the Master's seed;<br>
+Dropping some in the children's hearts<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Yearning their souls to feed.<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+Coming in to the Father's home,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Welcomed with joy at last;<br>
+Coming in, to go out no more,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Partings for ever past;<br>
+Coming in, and yet, not alone—<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Standing beside the door:<br>
+Meet me, Lord, in my coming in,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Now, and for evermore.<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image038" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image038.jpg" alt="image038">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image039" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image039.jpg" alt="image039">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>BRINDISI.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image040" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image040.jpg" alt="image040">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We left England, and began our delightful journey at the
+end of October. Evelyn improved in health and spirits from the moment
+that we started, and Sir William was thoroughly happy in witnessing the
+enjoyment of his child. I need hardly say what a treat this journey
+was to me. I had never been out of England before, and, therefore,
+everything abroad was quite new and strange to me, and I felt as if I
+was having a very pleasant and delightful dream.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>We spent some time in Paris, and went about to all the places of
+interest both in and near the city. From Paris we went to Turin, where
+we rested for more than a week, before undertaking the long and tedious
+journey from Turin to Brindisi. We arrived at Brindisi late on Saturday
+night; we were all very tired and worn out, and exceedingly glad to
+get to our journey's end. We stayed at an hotel near the sea, such a
+curious Eastern-looking place, with bare stone floors and whitewashed
+walls, and only just as much furniture in the large rooms as was
+absolutely necessary.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning I awoke early, and went to my window and looked out.
+It seemed a perfect fairy-land to me. The harbour was as still as a
+lake, and covered with the reflection of the ships and boats, with
+their pretty lateen sails. And beyond the harbour there was the blue
+Mediterranean sparkling in the morning sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>It looked very unlike Sunday, for work was going on just as on any
+other day; and the people of Brindisi were buying, and selling, and
+hurrying along, as though it were the busiest day in the week.</p>
+
+<p>I took my Testament, and sat at a little distance from the window, and
+had a quiet time alone before Clemence came to say that Evelyn was
+dressed, and was going downstairs for breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>We were to go on board the steamer that night, as it was to leave early
+the next morning; but Sir William arranged that during the day we
+should stay quietly at the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>The weather had been very cold when we were at Turin, and we found a
+great change of climate at Brindisi. The sky was a deep, unclouded
+blue, and the sunshine was so hot that we found it difficult to keep
+cool. Evelyn and I discovered a seat on the flat roof of the hotel,
+where we were shaded from the hot sun and could read together quietly.
+We read aloud the Psalms for the day, verse by verse. One of these was
+Psalm cxxii., and it was with a wonderfully strange feeling that we
+read those words:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"May," said Evelyn, "can you believe that verse is really true of us?"</p>
+
+<p>When we had finished our reading, Sir William came out to us, and
+persuaded us to venture out of the shady corner in which we had been
+sitting, and to walk to the other end of the roof, that we might look
+at the view to be seen from thence.</p>
+
+<p>To our surprise we found that we were not alone on the roof. An English
+gentleman was leaning over the parapet with a book in his hand, looking
+towards the sea. He turned round as we came up, and slipped his book
+into his pocket. I fancied that it was a Bible.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William and the strange gentleman soon got into conversation about
+Brindisi and its surroundings, and he pointed out to us several objects
+of interest in the neighbourhood. He was not a very young man, though
+I fancied that he looked older than he really was. There was something
+in his face, when it was at rest, which made me think that he had been
+through a great deal of trouble, and yet, when he smiled, his whole
+face was lighted up in a moment, and he looked perfectly different. He
+was not exactly a handsome man, and yet his was a face which, having
+once seen, you could never forgot, and which you could not help liking.
+That was my first impression of Mr. Stanley, so far as I can now
+remember.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William was very charmed with him, and said afterwards that he had
+seldom met such a well-read, sensible man. We sat together on the roof,
+and Evelyn and I acted the part of listeners, whilst the two gentlemen
+talked.</p>
+
+<p>"You are going to Jerusalem, I think," said Mr. Stanley, as Sir William
+was unfolding his plans to him; "I have been there several times."</p>
+
+<p>This led to many inquiries on Sir William's part about the
+accommodation to be found in Jerusalem, etc. etc. But Evelyn and
+I wondered very much how Mr. Stanley knew that we were going to
+Jerusalem. Could he have heard us reading that Psalm, and saying that
+it was soon to be true of us?</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid you will be disappointed in Jerusalem," said Mr.
+Stanley, turning to us; "you must remember that though it is still
+'beautiful for situation,' yet Jerusalem is no longer 'the joy of the
+whole earth.' It is, indeed, beautiful at a distance, and every one
+is charmed who sees it for the first time; but when you go inside
+the walls, and know it well, you cannot help feeling depressed and
+saddened."</p>
+
+<p>"But there are brighter days coming for Jerusalem," I ventured to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Stanley, "Jerusalem will be a hundredfold more
+than she ever was before—the City of the Great King."</p>
+
+<p>But Sir William always regarded the study of prophecy as a mixture of
+presumption and romance, and he quickly led the conversation into a
+different channel; but I longed to hear what Mr. Stanley's views were
+about the return of the Jews and the restoration of Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>That evening we went on board the steamer which was to take us to
+Alexandria. There were a great many first-class passengers, and we
+had some difficulty in obtaining a cabin to ourselves. At length Sir
+William managed to secure a small one for Evelyn and me, in which there
+were only two berths, and as soon as table d'hôte was over, we went to
+our cabin.</p>
+
+<p>There were very few passengers present at dinner; Mr. Stanley was
+there, and a few others whom we had seen in the hotel at Brindisi; but
+most of the people came on board as we were going to bed. They had just
+arrived by the late train from Turin, and had secured their cabins
+beforehand by telegraphing to the captain.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn and I were undressing when we heard a voice in the saloon, which
+we were almost sure we knew. It was a lady's voice, and she was giving
+orders to the stewardess in an imperious tone, with regard to the
+arrangement of her cabin.</p>
+
+<p>"That must be Lady Eldridge," said Evelyn to me; "it is exactly like
+her voice."</p>
+
+<p>Clemence went, at this moment, to get some hot water, and returned with
+the information that it was Lady Eldridge, and that she had taken the
+next cabin to ours.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" said Evelyn. "I wonder where she is going. I hope not to
+Cairo; I remember she often spends the winter there. Well, we shall
+hear in the morning!"</p>
+
+<p>As Lady Eldridge's voice had been the last thing we heard at night, so
+it was the first thing that we heard in the morning. She had brought
+no maid with her; and, as she was utterly unable to do anything for
+herself, she was constantly calling the poor stewardess, who had
+already more work than she could get through, to help her in the
+various stages of her toilet.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" said Evelyn, as Lady Eldridge's voice was heard again and
+again, "I do hope she is not going to Cairo; we must find out at once."</p>
+
+<p>We met Lady Eldridge at breakfast; she professed herself delighted
+beyond measure at meeting Sir William and Evelyn, and wished to know
+where they were going, and how long she would have the wonderful
+pleasure of travelling in their company.</p>
+
+<p>"It is such trying work travelling alone, my dear," she said to Evelyn,
+"and I am naturally very nervous; it is really quite miraculous my
+meeting you. Sir William, I feel sure, will not refuse to take me under
+his care."</p>
+
+<p>Sir William bowed, and said he would be very glad to help Lady Eldridge
+in any way he could; but I did not think he seemed particularly glad of
+the addition to our party, for such Lady Eldridge, from that moment,
+considered herself to be. She turned over all responsibility about her
+baggage to Sir William, and she used Clemence as freely as if she had
+been her own maid.</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Lady Eldridge, as we were finishing breakfast, "you have
+never yet told me where you are going, Evelyn, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn was about to answer her, when, to my surprise, Sir William
+prevented her.</p>
+
+<p>"Our plans are not yet formed, Lady Eldridge," he said; "I am going to
+consider this morning what our tour will be, and then I shall be able
+to let you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you must come to Cairo," said Lady Eldridge, decidedly; "there is
+no place like Cairo in the winter. The climate is simply perfect, my
+dear," she said, turning to Evelyn. "Now, Sir William, you must decide
+to stay at least three months at Cairo, and then we can all spend the
+winter together. Now come, I think that is a capital plan!"</p>
+
+<p>Sir William smiled, and said he would consider the matter; but there
+were many other places that he wished to visit, and he could not
+make up his mind hastily. We did not see much of Lady Eldridge after
+breakfast, for she remained in the saloon the whole day reading a
+French novel, and seemed to think us very extraordinary girls because
+we chose to go on deck.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn and I found a sheltered seat, where the cold wind did not reach
+us; and here we sat with our books and our work until the evening. The
+steamer had started early in the morning, and though a fresh breeze
+was blowing, still the sea was not uncomfortably rough, and we were
+beginning to think that sea voyages were not half so disagreeable and
+uncomfortable as people made them out to be.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William paced up and down the deck with Mr. Stanley nearly all the
+morning, discussing his future plans. Every now and then they stopped
+to examine a map or a guidebook; and at length they sat down on a
+seat, and Sir William took a pencil from his pocket, and wrote at Mr.
+Stanley's dictation.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what papa has settled!" said Evelyn. "I wish he would come
+and tell us. I am sure he does not want to go to Cairo, now that Lady
+Eldridge is going there. Did not you notice that he would not let me
+say where we were going?"</p>
+
+<p>When Sir William had finished writing, he and Mr. Stanley came towards
+us, and Sir William told us, to our great joy, that we were going at
+once to Jerusalem. Mr. Stanley had told him that there was a clean,
+comfortable hotel there, and that the climate in December and January
+was generally beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>"So I think we will stop in Jerusalem a month or two," said Sir
+William, "and then decide where we go next. What do you say to that,
+Evelyn?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa," said Evelyn, "it is just what I wanted. I am longing to get
+to Jerusalem!"</p>
+
+<p>"'Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem,'" said Mr.
+Stanley, with a smile. And then we were sure that he had heard us
+reading the Psalm.</p>
+
+<p>At sunset the wind became very strong; the ship rolled heavily, and the
+passengers were glad to go to their cabins. It was a dreadful night. I
+shall never forget it. Every hour the storm became more terrible. I had
+never thought that a storm at sea could be so dreadful. The waves were
+beating over our heads, and, every now and then, the cabin was lighted
+up by a vivid flash of lightning, which was followed almost immediately
+by a terrible clap of thunder. Every two or three minutes we heard the
+crash of breaking crockery, and the broken cups, and jugs, and glasses
+were thrown backwards and forwards on the floor, as the ship pitched
+and tossed.</p>
+
+<p>I wonder that so many people have such peaceful ideas of the
+Mediterranean Sea, after reading the Bible accounts of it. Oh, how
+often during that dreadful night we thought of St. Paul in the storm,
+probably just in this very part of the Mediterranean; and we could so
+well picture that scene in Jonah's life when the sailors, unwilling
+to cast him overboard, made a last mighty effort to bring the ship to
+land, but the sea wrought and was tempestuous, and they were not able
+to manage it.</p>
+
+<p>And then David's description of the storm, in Psalm cvii., must refer
+to this very sea. How often we repeated those verses to each other that
+night:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.
+Then are they glad because they be quiet; so He bringeth them unto their
+desired haven.'"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May," said Evelyn, as I crept to her side when the storm was at
+its height, "what a comfort it is to know we are safe, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "I cannot think how any one dare travel, and go through
+all the perils by land and water, without knowing that."</p>
+
+<p>"I should not have known it if we had come a year ago," said Evelyn.
+"Oh, May, I should have been terribly frightened then!"</p>
+
+<p>We did not sleep once the whole night, and very long the hours seemed
+to us.</p>
+
+<p>At about three o'clock in the morning we heard Lady Eldridge's voice
+loudly crying for help. She was calling, first for Clemence and then
+for the stewardess, but their cabins were at the other end of the
+saloon, and neither of them heard her.</p>
+
+<p>"What can she want?" said Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>I put on my dressing-gown, and managed to go as far as the door of Lady
+Eldridge's cabin, that I might see what was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"Just look here, Miss Lindsay!" she said. "The porthole has burst open,
+and the water has come over my bed. Do go and call the stewardess, and
+tell her to bring me clean linen and blankets."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether I can walk as far as the stewardess's cabin, Lady
+Eldridge," I said, "but I will try; it is terribly rough!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nonsense!" she said. "Hold on by the wall, and you will be all
+right. You don't mean to say you are sea-sick, Miss Lindsay; you should
+get over it. I never believe in sea-sickness; if people only try they
+can keep it off. I feel as well at sea as on land!"</p>
+
+<p>I could not help thinking that, this being the case she might have gone
+for the stewardess herself, instead of insisting that I should go for
+her. However, I did my best, and managed to stagger down the saloon,
+though I fell several times, and cut my hand very much with a broken
+plate, which was being swept across the floor, backwards and forwards,
+as the vessel rolled from side to side.</p>
+
+<p>I found the stewardess lying on the bed in her cabin, crying. She told
+me that she was a widow with three little children, whom she had left
+in England. She had been persuaded to try this way of earning her
+living, and this was her first voyage; but she did not think she could
+ever go again, she had no idea that it would be so dreadful. She told
+me this as she was getting out the sheets for Lady Eldridge's bed, and
+she said that, just as I came in, she was crying because she thought
+she would never see her little children again.</p>
+
+<p>I tried to say a word to comfort her, but the noise of the storm was
+so great that we could hardly hear each other speak. It was some time
+before she had collected everything that was necessary, and Lady
+Eldridge was very impatient and cross when we arrived at her cabin. I
+helped the stewardess to arrange the bed, and then went back to my own
+berth, very thankful to be able to lie still again.</p>
+
+<p>Morning came, but the storm still continued. It raged all Tuesday, all
+Tuesday night, and all Wednesday, and we were not able to leave our
+cabin the whole time. Only on Wednesday did the storm begin to abate,
+and we were able at last to have a quiet sleep. We awoke on Thursday,
+to find the wind gone and the sea much calmer. We were to arrive at
+Alexandria in the afternoon, and every one seemed glad that the stormy
+voyage was drawing to a close.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Eldridge was very much annoyed when she found that we were not
+going with her to Cairo. She told Sir William that it was simple
+madness, on his part, to take a delicate girl like Evelyn to Jerusalem;
+but Sir William only smiled, and said it was Evelyn's wish as well as
+his own, and he thought that, if Lady Eldridge made further inquiries,
+she would find that in the winter months the climate of Jerusalem was
+all that could be desired.</p>
+
+<p>I had a talk with the stewardess that morning, and I was so glad to
+find that the poor woman knew where to turn for comfort and for help.
+She was a real Christian, and, in simple faith, she had trusted her
+children to God's care, and she felt sure that He would watch over them
+till she was able to be with them again. She had left them with her
+brother and his wife, and her thoughts seemed to be constantly with her
+little absent treasures. I was so glad that I had spoken to her, for
+she thanked me very much, and told me that the few words I had said
+to her in the storm had been a great comfort to her, and had made her
+ashamed of herself for being afraid.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>At length we arrived at Alexandria, and very much enjoyed the sight
+which met our eyes—the intensely white city, the blue water in the
+harbour—the pilot, with a dark hood over his head, arriving in his
+little boat, and coming on board the steamer; and then the countless
+other boats, filled with clamorous Arabs, who were contending with one
+another to secure the largest number of passengers to row to shore.
+It was very curious to watch them fighting like wild beasts for their
+prey, and looking so picturesque in their various costumes that it was
+impossible to feel angry with them.</p>
+
+<p>After much pushing, and quarrelling, and scuffling, and shouting
+had been gone through, we found ourselves in the same boat with Mr.
+Stanley, who had taken us all, Lady Eldridge included, under his
+care, and had bargained on our behalf in Arabic, and made, after much
+difficulty, a fair agreement with the boatman as to the price he would
+charge for his boat.</p>
+
+<p>We stayed one night in Alexandria at the hotel, but we did not see much
+of the city, for we were too tired and worn out with the voyage to go
+out, and were glad to rest quietly until it was time to go on board
+the ship which was to take us to Jaffa, and which started early the
+next day. We left Lady Eldridge in the hotel, and were not sorry to say
+good-bye to her.</p>
+
+<p>It was a small old-fashioned vessel which was to take us the rest
+of the way, very dirty and forlorn, and very different from the
+comfortable steamer of the Peninsular and Oriental Company which we had
+just left; but the sea was calm, so we felt as if we could thankfully
+bear any amount of discomfort.</p>
+
+<p>We were the only first-class passengers on board, but a large party of
+travellers were to join us at Port Said, and they had already engaged
+their cabins.</p>
+
+<p>We stayed on deck until quite late that evening, walking up and down,
+looking at the sun setting over the sea, and talking of all that was
+before us. Sir William had numberless questions to ask about Jerusalem,
+and Mr. Stanley was well able to answer them all, for only two years
+before he had spent a whole winter in Jerusalem that he might sketch
+some of the many places of interest in the city and its neighbourhood;
+and he promised, at Sir William's request, to let us see his sketches
+some day.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image041" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image041.jpg" alt="image041">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>WAS IT HE?</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image042" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image042.jpg" alt="image042">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;EARLY on Saturday morning we arrived at Port Said, and
+Sir William proposed that we should go on shore and escape from our
+uncomfortable quarters in the dirty little steamer.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>We had no difficulty in obtaining a boat rowed by Arabs, but
+immediately we touched land, we were marched off to the Custom House,
+that our passports might be examined. Sir William had been told in
+London that passports were now quite unnecessary, so we had not
+provided ourselves with any, and he was rather at a loss what to do.
+However, Mr. Stanley came to the rescue, and after he had harangued
+the Turkish officers in Arabic, and had given them a proper amount of
+"baksheesh," we were politely bowed out of the office and allowed to
+enter the town, although we had no passports.</p>
+
+<p>Here Mr. Stanley left us, and we found our way to the one hotel of the
+place, where we had breakfast amidst a crowd of English and American
+travellers, who we found were to be our companions into Syria.</p>
+
+<p>The hotel was uncomfortably small and very noisy, so after breakfast we
+took a walk to see what was to be seen in Port Said.</p>
+
+<p>It was such a curious town; it looked as if it had sprung up in a
+single night like a mushroom. Nearly all the houses were made of wood,
+and looked like large booths put up hastily for a pleasure fair, to be
+taken down again as soon as the fair was over.</p>
+
+<p>The streets, or rather the empty spaces between the rows of houses,
+for they did not deserve the name of streets, were covered with
+orange-peel, oyster-shells, dead dogs and cats, decaying vegetables,
+and all manner of filth; and the whole place looked, Sir William
+said, like pictures he had seen of the wooden towns set up near the
+gold-diggings in America.</p>
+
+<p>We met people of almost every nationality in the streets of Port Said.
+Many of them were very unprepossessing in appearance, and we were told
+that a number of the worst men of all nations find their way there, for
+they know that there is very little law or order in the town, and that
+they will therefore be free from observation, and allowed to do as they
+like.</p>
+
+<p>The week before we arrived at Port Said there had been a great many
+murders there, and we saw a notice in the hotel advising Europeans
+not to go out after dark, as the authorities would not answer for the
+consequences if they did so.</p>
+
+<p>An open square in front of the hotel had been turned into a garden.
+There were not many flowers in it, but there were a few trees and
+shrubs, and a small stone fountain stood in the centre. There was a
+seat in this garden, and Sir William, Evelyn, and I sat here for some
+time, watching the tourists coming in and out of the hotel, consulting
+their guidebooks, asking countless questions of their dragoman, and
+apparently very impatient to be once more on the move.</p>
+
+<p>There were several French shops, in a block of buildings which formed
+one side of the square. Evelyn caught sight of these, and asked me if I
+thought she would be able to buy one or two little things which she was
+anxious to get before going to Jerusalem, "where," she said, "I suppose
+we shall find no shops at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Go and see, my dear," said Sir William, "and I will wait here till you
+come back; I shall be close by if you want me for anything, and I can
+see which shops you are in as I sit here."</p>
+
+<p>So Evelyn and I opened the gate of the hotel garden, and crossed the
+road to the shops. They were very curious shops, a great variety of
+articles seemed to be sold in them; all kinds of French goods, fancy
+articles of every description, and a few useful things, such as
+travelling bags, knapsacks, sunshades, and pith helmets.</p>
+
+<p>We selected the shop which appeared most likely to contain all we
+wished to buy. Evelyn went in first, and I followed her. The shopman
+was at the other end of the shop, attending to some customers, and
+Evelyn and I examined the articles which were exposed for sale until he
+was ready to wait upon us. Then he came up to us, and asked in French
+what we wanted. Evelyn looked up from the box of ornaments over which
+she was bending, and was about to answer him, when I saw her suddenly
+start back in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>I looked up, to see what had taken her so much by surprise, and I saw
+in a moment what it was.</p>
+
+<p>The young man in the shop was no French tradesman, as we had taken him
+to be; he was her cousin, Donald Trafford! Evelyn had not looked at him
+when we first came into the shop, but as soon as their eyes met she
+recognised him, in spite of his foreign dress and appearance; and he,
+at the same moment, recognised her.</p>
+
+<p>Before we had time to recover from our surprise he was gone; he had
+disappeared through a door into an inner room, and had sent a young
+Frenchwoman to wait upon us.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, May," whispered Evelyn to me, "never mind about the things; let us
+go back to papa!"</p>
+
+<p>I made some excuse to the French girl, telling her that we could not
+wait longer, and we left the shop at once.</p>
+
+<p>But when we were outside, Evelyn turned so white and faint that I did
+not know how to get her back to the garden. I made signs to Sir William
+to come; but he was reading the newspaper, and did not look up, and I
+did not like to leave Evelyn alone whilst I went to call him.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, to my great joy, Mr. Stanley came up, and seeing how
+ill Evelyn looked, at once offered her his arm, and walked with her
+back to her father.</p>
+
+<p>As I followed them into the garden I could not help contrasting Mr.
+Stanley's open, manly face with that of Mr. Donald Trafford, who had
+by no means improved in appearance since I saw him last. I wondered
+whether Evelyn was struck by the difference. I almost thought that she
+was, for she thanked Mr. Stanley very pleasantly for his kind help, and
+explained that she had suddenly turned faint when she was in the shop,
+but said she would be quite better in a few moments.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William was very much frightened when he saw his daughter come up
+to him, looking as pale as death, and leaning on Mr. Stanley's arm;
+but she tried to laugh him out of his fears, and told him that she was
+rather tired, and that it was nothing of consequence. Mr. Stanley,
+however, hurried up to the hotel to get a glass of water, and, as soon
+as he was gone, Evelyn burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, my darling?" said Sir William, in a very
+distressed voice. "I am afraid the journey has been too much for you.
+Perhaps I was foolish not to follow Lady Eldridge's advice, and go on
+with her to Cairo. You are not strong enough to rough it yet; I almost
+think we had better turn back."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, papa, it is not that," said Evelyn; "it is not that at all.
+Tell him, May, what it was."</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn had a great surprise when she went into that shop, Sir
+William," I said, "for there, dressed like a foreigner, and selling
+behind the counter, was her cousin, Mr. Trafford!"</p>
+
+<p>"Donald!" said Sir William, starting from his seat. "Donald in that
+shop! Surely not! Surely you must have been mistaken! I cannot think
+that he would dare to come to a place like Port Said, where so many
+English people are continually passing through. Oh no, Evelyn, child,
+you must be wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Sir William," I said, "we certainly saw Mr. Trafford; I am quite
+sure we were not mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Mr. Stanley returned, and we could not talk any more
+about it. But Sir William seemed lost in thought, and did not enter
+into the conversation, which Evelyn and I tried to keep up.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Lindsay," he said, at last, "would you show me in which of those
+shops you made your purchases just now? Evelyn dear, you sit still here
+till we come back. Mr. Stanley, may I leave my daughter in your care
+for a few minutes?"</p>
+
+<p>I thought Mr. Stanley was not sorry to be left in charge; but Evelyn
+had turned as pale as she was before, and was trembling from head to
+foot.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William and I left them on the seat near the fountain, and walked
+towards the row of shops.</p>
+
+<p>"I really think you must have been mistaken, Miss Lindsay," he
+repeated; but I told him that I was sure that Mr. Trafford had
+recognised us, for he had strangely and suddenly disappeared, and had
+sent a Frenchwoman to wait upon us.</p>
+
+<p>I waited outside, whilst Sir William went into the shop. He came out in
+a few minutes, looking very much relieved.</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite a mistake, Miss Lindsay," he said; "Donald Trafford is not
+here; I have made full inquiries."</p>
+
+<p>Then he told me that there was no one but the Frenchwoman in the shop
+when he went in, but that he had asked to see the young Englishman
+who was waiting in the shop about a quarter of an hour before. The
+Frenchwoman, however, had assured him that there was no Englishman
+there, nor was there any one who could speak English. It must have been
+her husband whom the ladies had seen; he was in the shop a few minutes
+ago, but he was an Italian—his name was Signor Rialti. Sir William had
+asked to speak to her husband, but she told him he had been suddenly
+called away on business; he was away now, and would not return till
+Monday.</p>
+
+<p>"Then Signor Rialti is evidently the name Mr. Trafford has taken," I
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think not, Miss Lindsay," said Sir William, decidedly; "you and
+Evelyn have been mistaken. I have no doubt that the young Italian bears
+a strong resemblance to Donald Trafford, and that that circumstance has
+led you both to imagine that it must be he."</p>
+
+<p>But, though I was silenced by Sir William's very decided manner, still
+I was far from being convinced; for I was firmly persuaded in my own
+mind that it was indeed Evelyn's cousin whom we had seen that morning.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley seemed to notice, with the ready perception which he always
+showed, that something had happened to disturb us, and that we should
+like to be left alone, for in a few minutes he made an excuse about
+having to call on some one at the other end of Port Said, and took
+leave of us.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Evelyn," said Sir William, as soon as we were alone, "you were
+quite wrong. You need not have been so agitated, dear; it was quite a
+mistake." And he told her what he had heard in the shop.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all a tale, papa," she said, when he had finished; "Donald is
+afraid of being found out, and he has put her up to telling that story,
+in case any inquiries should be made about him. He would not be back
+till Monday, did she say? Of course not; he knows quite well that the
+steamer will not start until early on Monday morning."</p>
+
+<p>But Sir William would not be convinced. His wish was, I think, father
+to the thought, for he would have been very much puzzled as to how he
+ought to act had he indeed found his nephew, and he was therefore only
+too glad to believe that he was still in ignorance of Mr. Trafford's
+hiding-place.</p>
+
+<p>I saw Evelyn glancing several times at the French shop as we sat there
+talking of other things, and I was glad for her sake when Sir William
+proposed that we should return to the ship.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>We spent a very comfortless Sunday on board the wretched little
+steamer. It was impossible to find any quiet place below, for the
+saloon was filled by the large party which we had seen at the hotel
+at Port Said, and most of them spent the day in playing at cards and
+chess, and in talking over their journey in loud voices; and they made
+so much noise that we found it was utterly useless to attempt to read
+or to be quiet there. So we went on deck and found a shady corner,
+where we were at least in comparative quiet.</p>
+
+<p>But the lower deck was the scene of great confusion and noise, for a
+number of pilgrims, who were on their way to Jerusalem, were coming on
+board. There were Greek pilgrims, Latin pilgrims, and Moslem pilgrims,
+all of them dressed in what seemed to us the most fantastic manner.
+They were regular Eastern and dreadfully filthy, and they were all
+jabbering their various languages at the top of their voices. Mr.
+Stanley told us that as Easter draws near, the steamers are crammed
+with these pilgrims, on their way to the different shrines and holy
+places. They come from great distances, and go through wonderful
+fatigue, and spend large sums of money to obtain, as they vainly hope,
+forgiveness of sin.</p>
+
+<p>"I often think," Mr. Stanley said, "that their earnestness puts us to
+shame."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Evelyn, as she watched a fresh detachment come on board,
+"and do you not long to tell them how sin can really be forgiven?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do indeed," said Mr. Stanley; "but, Miss Trafford, have you any idea
+what a difficult matter that would be? How many different languages
+do you think I should have to learn before I could speak to all these
+pilgrims?"</p>
+
+<p>We thought perhaps five or six would be necessary, but Mr. Stanley told
+us, to our astonishment, that he had just had a conversation with a
+gentleman who had taken the trouble to go round the vessel in order to
+find out what were the different nationalities of the people on board,
+and he had made the discovery that there were men from no fewer than
+thirty different nations in that one steamer.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>We sailed from Port Said on Sunday evening, and came in sight of Jaffa
+at six o'clock the next morning. We were up very early, for we were
+longing to get our first view of Palestine. It was a lovely morning;
+the sea was as smooth as a mill-pond, and the view was exceedingly
+beautiful, as the sun rose behind the Judean hills.</p>
+
+<p>Jaffa looked a very pretty place as we saw it from the deck of the
+steamer, with its white houses overlooking the blue Mediterranean, a
+green circle of orange trees round it, and the quiet hills beyond.</p>
+
+<p>But we had little time to realise the fact that we were now gazing
+at the very spot from which Jonah took ship for Tarshish, and where
+Peter lodged and saw that wondrous vision, and where Dorcas lived
+and made garments for the poor, in those far-off Bible days. We had
+very little time for thought of any kind, for, as soon as we came in
+sight of Joppa, numberless boats came out to meet us, as they had done
+at Alexandria, and after the usual tumult we secured one, and were
+rowed to the shore, which was a mile and a half away. This is not at
+all a safe undertaking in stormy weather, for the only entrance to
+the harbour is a very narrow opening between most dangerous rocks.
+The harbour of Joppa is a natural one, and has never been improved
+since the time of Solomon, when the timber, which Hiram out down in
+the Lebanon, must have been brought to land through this very passage
+between the rocks.</p>
+
+<p>When we drew near the shore we saw crowds of Arabs waiting for us,
+screaming and fighting and wrestling in savage earnestness. They seemed
+ready to tear us in pieces rather than lose the chance of carrying
+our luggage to the hotel. It really was a terrible sight to those
+unaccustomed to Eastern vehemence. Evelyn was very much frightened and
+clung to her father, and even Sir William seemed agitated and alarmed.
+But Mr. Stanley's quiet voice reassured us.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is nothing," he said; "you don't know what Arabs are yet;
+they always make a noise like this. It is nothing unusual, I assure
+you," he added, laughing, as he fought a passage for us through the
+howling crowd, and led the way to the little Custom House, which was
+already crowded with the travellers who had arrived before us. We had,
+therefore, to wait outside for some time; but Mr. Stanley kept the
+Arabs who had followed us at bay, and gave Evelyn a camp-stool to sit
+upon, for she was looking faint and tired, and the heat, even at that
+early hour, seemed to us to be very great.</p>
+
+<p>At last the Turkish officer was at liberty to receive the "baksheesh,"
+which Mr. Stanley had ready for him. He passed our boxes without
+opening them, and we were allowed to proceed to the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>It was a tiring walk, for the streets of Jaffa are covered with hot,
+burning sand, in which your feet sink every step you take. They are
+very narrow, and every now and then we looked round to find ourselves
+nearly knocked down by a huge camel, with boxes on its back, which had
+come noiselessly behind us over the soft sand; or a mule, laden with
+luggage, and rushing frantically along, was determined to pass us, and
+pushed its way through our midst in the most resolute manner.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley had advised us to go as far as Ramleh that day, as it is
+forty miles' ride from Jaffa to Jerusalem, and he thought we should be
+too tired if we went so far in one day. Accordingly that afternoon, he
+hired horses for us, and we mounted for our first ride in Palestine.</p>
+
+<p>It was no easy matter guiding our horses through the crowds of Arabs,
+the strings of camels and mules, and the heaps of filth, in the streets
+of Jaffa. We were glad to leave the town and get into the road, which
+took us through one of the orange groves by which Jaffa is surrounded.
+Everything looked so strange and Eastern, and the scent of the oranges
+was delicious. We passed through the Plain of Sharon, and at about five
+o'clock in the evening we reached Ramleh, after rather more than four
+hours' ride.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image043" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image043.jpg" alt="image043">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image044" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image044.jpg" alt="image044">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>JERUSALEM.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image045" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image045.jpg" alt="image045">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;THERE are some moments in our lives which it is
+impossible for us to describe. We never forget them, and the impression
+which they leave behind never fades from our memories; but still when
+we try to speak of them to others, even to those whom we love best,
+words fail us, and seem too weak to express what we mean.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I will not, therefore, attempt to describe what was the rush of feeling
+which passed through my heart when, for the first time, I came in sight
+of Jerusalem. Others who have had a like privilege will understand what
+I felt, as Mr. Stanley made us pull up our horses on the top of a hill,
+about half a mile from the city gate, and said to us, "Well, what do
+you think of Jerusalem?"</p>
+
+<p>Neither Evelyn nor I could answer him. Sir William had many questions
+to ask about the houses and buildings on the road leading to the Jaffa
+Gate, but we scarcely heard what they were saying. At that moment, it
+seemed to us a matter of very small importance which was the Austrian
+consul's house; which was the Pacha's country residence; which was
+the German deaconesses' school; and which were the Russian church and
+convent. All these details interested us afterwards, when we were more
+familiar with Jerusalem; but at that moment, when we were able, for the
+first time in our lives, to say "This is Jerusalem!" we had neither
+time nor thought to spare for any interest in the modern buildings of
+the city.</p>
+
+<p>We rode on in silence, seeing, as if in a dream, the crowds of people
+taking their evening walk on the Jaffa road—people of numerous nations,
+and from every quarter of the globe, dressed in costumes as varied as
+the colours of the rainbow.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley rode up close beside me as we went through the Jaffa Gate,
+and said, in a low voice, "I know just how you are feeling, Miss
+Lindsay; it is, indeed, a wonderful moment in one's life!"</p>
+
+<p>We had some difficulty in getting through the gate, for a number of
+camels and mules were coming out of the city at the time, heavily laden
+with baggage. Then we passed the Tower of David, and turned down a
+quiet street, where stood the hotel in which Mr. Stanley had secured
+rooms for us. He took leave of us here, as he was going to lodge at the
+Latin Convent, which was in another part of the city, and where he had
+stayed when he was last in Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>The landlady of the hotel was a Scotch woman, and was very kind and
+attentive. Our rooms were beautifully clean, with white stone floors,
+white walls, white curtains before the windows, and white coverings on
+the beds.</p>
+
+<p>We did not sleep much that night. The fatigue and excitement which we
+had gone through the day before would have been sufficient to keep
+us awake; but even had we felt disposed to sleep, I do not think we
+should have been able to do so, for the noises in the city, during the
+night, were so many and so varied, that it seemed to us that, under any
+circumstances, sleep would be very difficult to obtain. Our landlady
+had told us that she hoped we should not be alarmed at any sound we
+might hear in the night, for a wedding was going on in a house close
+by, and the festivities would be kept up until the morning.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, for many hours we were kept awake by the noise of music
+and singing, by the beating of little drums, and by the shouts and
+laughter of the wedding party. But as morning dawned the wedding
+guests grew quieter, and we hoped to be able to sleep. Now, however,
+we were disturbed by the howling and barking of the street dogs, which
+at times was quite deafening. These dogs have no owners, but act as
+the scavengers of the city, eating anything they can find amongst the
+refuse and dirt of the streets. Each dog has his appointed place in
+the city, and there seems to be a code of honour amongst them, that no
+dog is to go into any other quarter of the city except that in which
+he was born and bred, and in which he ordinarily gets his livelihood.
+Immediately a strange dog from another part of Jerusalem makes his
+appearance he is driven away by the united efforts of all the dogs in
+the street which he has invaded, with enough noise to awaken the whole
+city.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Evelyn tossed about very wearily through the night, and I was
+really afraid that she would be ill again. But her merry spirits seemed
+to keep her up, for she found amusement in all our little discomforts,
+and made me laugh in spite of myself many times during that long,
+tiring night.</p>
+
+<p>At length a lull came in the barking of the dogs; but now several bells
+began to ring in the Greek and Latin convents of the city, and then we
+heard the shouts of muleteers and camel-drivers, and the tinkling of
+the mule-bells, as different parties of people set off in the cool of
+the morning for Joppa, or some of the distant villages.</p>
+
+<p>We got up at eight o'clock tired and unrefreshed. Sir William had slept
+much better, and was in good spirits, and very anxious to go out and
+explore Jerusalem. We needed no dragoman to take us to the various
+places of interest, for Mr. Stanley, who knew his way about the city as
+well as any of the inhabitants did, was very kind, and anxious to help
+us.</p>
+
+<p>I fancied that it was something more than ordinary kindness which
+made him always so willing to make one of our party. I could not help
+thinking that he was attracted by my dear Evelyn's sweet face and
+winning ways. Who could help loving her? I said to myself, as I thought
+the matter over a hundred times during our first day in Jerusalem. I
+noticed, I could not help noticing, how diligently he kept near us, and
+how pleased he seemed that Sir William thankfully accepted his offer to
+be our guide whilst we stayed in the Holy City.</p>
+
+<p>I shall never forget my first walk through the streets of Jerusalem. We
+grew so familiar, in a few weeks' time, with all the Eastern sights and
+sounds that we scarcely noticed them, but that morning everything was
+strange and fresh and full of interest.</p>
+
+<p>We went first across an open square in front of the Tower of David,
+where a vegetable market was being held; and chickens and eggs, oranges
+and lemons, were being exhibited for sale by the women from the
+villages round Jerusalem, and were being bargained for and bought by
+the townspeople.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley called our attention to the enormous cauliflowers, so large
+that one of them was sufficient to form the load of a small donkey, and
+so heavy that neither Evelyn nor I could lift them from the ground. We
+were curious to know how large the pans were in which they were boiled,
+but Mr. Stanley told us they are always cut in pieces before boiling,
+and that one cauliflower is sufficient to feed a family for a whole day.</p>
+
+<p>There was so much noise and confusion in this market-place that it was
+difficult to keep up conversation. No business transaction is done in
+Jerusalem without a dispute, so fierce that, if it occurred in England,
+we should expect it to end in blows. The salesman asks three times as
+much for his goods as he expects to receive; and the buyer offers a
+third of what he knows he will eventually have to give; and then they
+begin to dispute, and wrangle, and scream, and shout, and swear, and
+stamp their feet, and shake their fists, as if the affairs of a whole
+nation depended upon it. We saw one such business transaction going on
+in a street through which we passed.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image046" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image046.jpg" alt="image046"></figure>
+<p class="t4">
+<b>IN JERUSALEM.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter here?" said Sir William, as he tried to make
+his way through an angry, excited crowd, who were screaming and
+gesticulating in the most alarming manner, as they clustered round a
+camel and a camel driver.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing at all!" said Mr. Stanley, laughing, as he listened to
+what they were saying. "That man in the centre of the crowd is buying
+a load of charcoal, and he and the owner of the charcoal are disputing
+about a piastre, more or less, which in English money is about equal to
+twopence."</p>
+
+<p>"But who are all these other people?" said Sir William. "They cannot
+all have an interest in this one load of charcoal."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," said Mr. Stanley; "but they happened to be passing at the
+time, and they have stopped to give their opinion, some taking the part
+of the buyer and some of the seller, and all of them adding to the
+general confusion by shouting and swearing and yelling at the highest
+pitch of their voices."</p>
+
+<p>We were glad to get out of the noisy crowd, and to descend a flight of
+steps in the narrow street.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mind coming in here for a minute?" said Mr. Stanley, as he
+stopped before a clean-looking building, and opened a small door in the
+wall.</p>
+
+<p>We followed him into a large room, and there we saw a very interesting
+sight. All round the room were Jewesses, in their picturesque dresses,
+sitting on mats on the floor. They were busily engaged with various
+kinds of needlework; and an English lady was going about amongst them,
+superintending their work, and teaching them anything which they did
+not know. We were much interested in all she told us of these poor
+women—they are learning by degrees to make their wretched homes bright
+and comfortable, and to make garments for their husbands and children.
+Above all, they are learning to love the Word of God, which is read
+aloud to them as they work, and which is quite a new book to them, for
+these poor Jerusalem Jewesses know as little of their Old Testament
+Scriptures as they do of the New Testament. We gave them several orders
+for various kinds of lace, which they make most beautifully; and Sir
+William left a donation towards their savings bank, which is doing much
+good amongst these poor mothers, encouraging them to lay by part of the
+money which they earn, as a fund from which they can draw in times of
+sickness or distress.</p>
+
+<p>Then we passed from that room into another part of the building, which
+is used as a girls' school for Jewish children; and it was indeed
+pleasant to see their bright happy faces, and to hear their intelligent
+answers to the questions put to them. Mr. Stanley told us afterwards
+that there is a good work being done in this mission school—for the
+children are carefully and prayerfully taught, and, as the mothers
+of the next generation, will undoubtedly pave the way for missionary
+effort among their nation. The lady who manages the school very kindly
+took us to see all the different classes, and we were especially
+interested in a large class of little Spanish Jewesses, natives of
+Jerusalem, who are being taught in their own language, and who are
+learning, little by little and step by step, to know and to love that
+Saviour whom their nation have rejected.</p>
+
+<p>We left the school, hoping to visit it again another day, and were
+turning round a corner, when Mr. Stanley stopped us, and showed us some
+curious old stones in the wall of the street. The stones evidently
+formed part of an old archway; and Mr. Stanley told us that it was now
+thought to be the most ancient place in all Jerusalem, being supposed,
+by those who have studied the matter, to have been part of the old city
+of Jebus, where the Jebusites lived before David conquered them, and
+turned their old fortress of Jebus into Jerusalem, the City of David.</p>
+
+<p>As we turned into the large bazaar in one of the principal streets in
+Jerusalem we had great difficulty in getting on, so narrow was the
+street, and so crowded with camels, donkeys, mules, and people standing
+before each of the curious little shops, bargaining with the shopman
+inside. We were making our way slowly down the street, when I heard a
+well-known voice behind us, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Trafford! This is a surprise!"</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn and I turned round, and I said involuntarily: "Claude! Where
+have you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>He told us that he and Alice had been spending a month in Cairo, and
+had now come to see Palestine. "But there does not seem to be much to
+see here," he said; "it is a wretched place after Cairo!"</p>
+
+<p>"How long have you been here, may I ask?" said Mr. Stanley.</p>
+
+<p>"Just two days now," said Claude; "we think of moving on again
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will excuse my saying that you have not begun to see
+Jerusalem yet," said Mr. Stanley, with the least possible touch of
+sarcasm in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know!" said Claude. "It seems a stupid place. I can't
+think why so many people come here. But won't you come and see Alice?"
+he said, turning to Evelyn. "She will be delighted to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"By the by, I met a friend of yours in Cairo, Miss Trafford," said
+Claude, as we walked in the direction of the Damascus Gate, near which
+their tents were pitched.</p>
+
+<p>"A friend of mine!" said Evelyn, colouring. "Whom do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>She thought, and I thought too, that he must have met Donald Trafford;
+and Evelyn was considerably relieved by his answer.</p>
+
+<p>"It was Lord Moreton; he was there with a party of his friends, staying
+in the same hotel that we were. They were going up the Nile. He told me
+that you were travelling in the East, but the East is a wide term, and
+I did not expect that we should meet."</p>
+
+<p>"But why do you call Lord Moreton a friend of mine?" said Evelyn,
+laughing, though her father looked at her reprovingly.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss Trafford," said Claude; "I thought he was a
+great friend of yours. I assure you, he talked so much of you and Sir
+William in the short time that we were together, that I thought—"</p>
+
+<p>But Claude did not tell us what he thought, for we had to separate
+at that moment to let a string of laden camels pass by, and the
+conversation took another turn when we were able to walk together again.</p>
+
+<p>Claude and his wife were travelling with a small party under the
+escort of a dragoman, and their tents were pitched in the olive grove
+just outside the northern gate of the city. Alice was very glad to
+see us, and she, Evelyn, and I had a long talk together as we sat in
+patriarchal fashion at our tent door, whilst the gentlemen paced about
+amongst the olive trees, talking to the dragoman, and referring to
+their guidebooks.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it not strange to be in Jerusalem, Alice?" said Evelyn. "I feel as
+if I were dreaming."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Alice, laughing. "I have not been much
+impressed by it. You see, we have become quite accustomed now to
+Eastern manners and customs—we saw plenty of them in Cairo; and as for
+the old ruins and buildings here, they are not nearly so ancient as the
+Pyramids. And there is really very little to be seen, after all, except
+by those people who believe the lies that are told them about the holy
+sepulchre, and the tomb of the Virgin, and the manger at Bethlehem. Why
+actually, in one street, in quite a new wall, our dragoman pointed out
+to us a stone which is believed to be the stone that 'would have cried
+out' if the children had held their peace! Such nonsense! I have no
+patience with it!" said Alice, scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," said Evelyn, "I quite agree with you about all those absurd
+tales. I would not walk a hundred yards to see one of those wonderful
+shrines; but, after all, this is Jerusalem, and it was here," she added
+in a lower voice, "that our Lord walked, and preached, and died, and
+was buried, and rose again!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, of course," said Alice, carelessly, as if that fact was but of
+small importance to her.</p>
+
+<p>"And if we really love Him," said Evelyn, "if He is dearer to us than
+any one else, don't you think we must look upon Jerusalem, and those
+places He lived in, with a very strange and wonderful feeling?"</p>
+
+<p>Alice looked at Evelyn in astonishment; she had never heard her speak
+in that way before, and had no idea how much Evelyn was changed since
+she had seen her last. She made no answer, and I think would have
+turned the conversation to some other subject if Evelyn had not spoken
+first.</p>
+
+<p>"You look surprised, Alice," she said; "you did not expect me to say
+that, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed," said Alice, laughing; "I thought that both you and I were
+quite free from all sentimental nonsense. I am afraid Miss Lindsay has
+been talking you over to her way of thinking."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it nonsense?" said Evelyn, gravely, passing over Alice's last
+words. "Because if it is not nonsense, surely it is a great reality!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Alice, lightly; "Claude says the greater part
+of religion is nonsense, and I suppose he ought to know; he has studied
+the matter, and I have not."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Alice," said Evelyn, with tears in her eyes, "if you only knew how
+very, very happy I have been lately! I never knew before that it was
+possible to be as happy as I am now!"</p>
+
+<p>"That may be," said Alice, "and I am not happy. Sometimes I am
+miserable," she said, bitterly, with that grave, sad expression that
+I had seen on her face once before; "but still I cannot help agreeing
+with Claude, that it is better not to be comforted at all, than to get
+comfort out of a lie."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," I said, "Mr. Ellis is quite right in that; but the whole
+question turns on this: Is the Bible Satan's lie, or God's truth? It
+must surely be either the one or the other."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Alice, lightly, "it is too hot to enter into a theological
+discussion. I will call the dragoman and get him to send us some
+lemonade: our cook makes it splendidly."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Alice!" said Evelyn, when we were left alone in the tent.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "she is very much to be pitied, for she is not
+comfortable in her unbelief; she has doubts even about her own
+doubting."</p>
+
+<p>Alice came back to tell us that the gentlemen had planned a ride to the
+Mount of Olives, and the dragoman had gone to hire horses for the whole
+party, so that we might start together from the Damascus Gate as soon
+as it began to be a little cooler.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Mr. Stanley guided us to our hotel. We went back a different
+way, keeping outside the city, till we reached the Jaffa Gate. Sir
+William and I walked first, and Mr. Stanley and Evelyn followed; but as
+Sir William was reading his guidebook, which he kept open in his hand
+and consulted as he walked along, I had much time for thought, and once
+or twice I could not help overhearing the conversation which was going
+on behind me.</p>
+
+<p>"So you know Lord Moreton, Miss Trafford?" I heard Mr. Stanley say.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; papa knows him very well, and he likes him very much," said
+Evelyn, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"And you do not?" said Mr. Stanley, gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't dislike him," said Evelyn; "only I think him very stupid
+and uninteresting."</p>
+
+<p>I thought Sir William must have heard this remark; but if he heard it
+he took no notice of it, but appeared to be deep in his book.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Moreton stupid! Lord Moreton uninteresting!" repeated Mr.
+Stanley. "Then excuse my saying, Miss Trafford, that if that is your
+opinion, I am sure you do not know Lord Moreton: no one who really knew
+him would ever come to such a conclusion."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley had spoken rather warmly, and Evelyn said in an apologetic
+tone: "I am very sorry, Mr. Stanley. I see Lord Moreton is a friend of
+yours; I did not know you knew him at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, smiling, "we were college friends, and have been like
+brothers ever since. I think I may say that I know Lord Moreton better
+than any one else knows him, and the more I know him, so much the more
+I respect him and love him."</p>
+
+<p>"He always seems to me to be so shy and awkward," said Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, so he is with strangers," said Mr. Stanley; "he is a highly
+nervous man; it is his infirmity, and he knows it; but if he can only
+shake off his nervousness, he is quite another man. I wish you could
+have heard him address a meeting of undergraduates the other day, you
+would not have believed it was the same man."</p>
+
+<p>"Addressing them! On what subject?" asked Evelyn, now more astonished
+than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, about personal religion. Lord Moreton has a wonderful power with
+young men. He is not at all nervous when speaking to them. It is you
+ladies that make him so shy," said Mr. Stanley, laughing; "you are such
+formidable beings!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am surprised!" said Evelyn. "I could not have believed it, if
+you had not told me. And he is a real Christian? I am very glad to hear
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Stanley, "he is a man who lives very near to his God;
+and his one desire and aim is to bring all under his influence to the
+Saviour. Indeed," he added, in a lower voice, "if it had not been for
+Lord Moreton, Miss Trafford, I should have been to this day a man of
+the world; it was his words and his example which first made me decide
+for Christ."</p>
+
+<p>I could hear no more, for we had reached the Jaffa Gate, and had passed
+into the noisy square in front of the Tower of David.</p>
+
+<p>Whether Sir William had overheard the conversation I did not know. He
+looked very pleased and half amused as it was going on; but perhaps he
+may have been reading some interesting anecdote in his guidebook.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley left us at the Tower of David, and we went to the hotel to
+rest until the evening.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image047" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image047.jpg" alt="image047">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image048" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image048.jpg" alt="image048">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>MY OLIVE-LEAVES.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image049" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image049.jpg" alt="image049">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;IT was still very hot when we started from the Damascus
+Gate and rode in the direction of the Mount of Olives.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"What a wretched little hillock it is!" said Claude, as we drew near to
+it. "It does not deserve the name of hill, much less of mountain."</p>
+
+<p>But to most of us, this "wretched little hillock" was the most sacred
+spot on earth. There was no doubt about its identity; "the mountain
+on the east side of the city" could not be mistaken for any other. No
+vain superstition, no improbable legend had fixed upon this hill as the
+place where our Lord's feet had so often trod. The hand of time, and
+the cruel devastations of war, which had laid low the beautiful Temple,
+and made Jerusalem a heap of ruins, had not been able to obliterate
+this spot, nor to make us doubtful as to whether it were indeed the
+same Mount of Olives of which we had read so often in the Gospels.</p>
+
+<p>We crossed the Valley of Jehoshaphat, passed the wall of the so-called
+Gethsemane, and began to ascend one of the steep stony paths which led
+across the mountain to Bethany.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, Miss Lindsay," said Mr. Stanley, "that these paths, on
+the hillsides, are probably less changed than anything in the whole
+country? They must have gone in the same direction years ago, and this
+is, without doubt, the very road our Lord's feet so often trod to and
+from the city on His way to Martha's house."</p>
+
+<p>I felt as if it were almost too sacred ground. I did not answer him,
+for I could not have done so without tears. So we rode on in silence, a
+little way behind the others, and Evelyn told me afterwards she would
+have been very thankful to have been with us, for Claude and Alice were
+laughing and talking the whole way, telling amusing stories of things
+and people in England, and taking little or no notice of the scenes and
+places around them. The Mount of Olives was nothing to them!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley rode forward as we came to a turn in the road on the
+shoulder of the hill, and made them all stop and look round at the
+city: for it is at this place that, when coming from Bethany, Jerusalem
+first comes in sight, and there, he said, must have been the very spot
+on which our Lord stood when "He beheld the city and wept over it."</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn came close to me and whispered, "Oh, May, I cannot help it, the
+tears will come; let us go a little way off by ourselves; Claude and
+Alice will chatter so."</p>
+
+<p>We got off our horses, and left them with the dragoman, and went a
+short distance from the road to a clump of olive trees; and here we
+stood, looking down upon the city. If our Lord wept as He gazed on it
+in its glory, because He saw, in the far distance, the shadow of ruin
+and desolation creeping towards it, how much more should we weep, who
+saw the once beloved city, the joy of the whole earth, made a very
+curse amongst men!</p>
+
+<p>"Look forward as well as backward," said Mr. Stanley's voice behind us.</p>
+
+<p>"Forward to what?" Evelyn asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Forward to that day when the Lord will no longer weep over Jerusalem,
+but will rejoice over her. Do you remember that passage in Isaiah lxv.:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'Be ye glad and rejoice for ever in that which I create: for, behold,
+I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy. And I will
+rejoice in Jerusalem, and joy in My people: and the voice of weeping
+shall be no more heard in her, nor the voice of crying.'<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"You see the Lord will rejoice in Jerusalem Himself, and call upon us
+to rejoice with Him; and surely those who have been one with Him in His
+sorrow will be the ones whom He will call to rejoice with Him in His
+joy."</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't it remind you of the shepherd's joy," I said, "as he brought
+back his lost sheep, rejoicing himself, and calling together his
+friends, saying to them,—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost'?"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Stanley; "I never thought of that; the two
+passages are wonderfully alike."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Stanley," said Evelyn, as he turned round, "must we go? It is
+so delightful to be here."</p>
+
+<p>"I think we must come again another day, by ourselves," said Mr.
+Stanley, in a whisper, "your friends are rather impatient to be moving;
+they find very little to interest them on the Mount of Olives."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not surprised," said Evelyn; "half the Bible they do not believe
+in, and the other half they do not care for; but, oh dear, I do wish
+they had not come with us; I did not think we should feel it so much."</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn went on, reluctantly, to join her father. Mr. Stanley stayed
+behind a moment, and gathered a spray of olive-leaves, which he gave to
+me, and asked me to keep it, "as a remembrance of the place, and of our
+coming here together." I have that spray of olive-leaves now, and shall
+keep it as long as I live.</p>
+
+<p>So we went on to Bethany. The road must have taken the same course in
+our Lord's time, for there is a deep valley, and the road runs at its
+head. And it must have looked just the same then, with the same wild
+flowers growing by the wayside, the same blue mountains of Moab in
+front, and the same green valley beneath. Mr. Stanley pointed out to me
+some fig trees, growing close to the road, just as they did when the
+Saviour, hungry with His long walk from Bethany, searched amongst the
+loaves for fruit to refresh him on the way. I had had no idea before
+that it was so far from Jerusalem to Bethany; He must have been very
+weary as He went backwards and forwards every day of that last, sad
+week of His life on earth. Only once do we read of Him riding; it was
+all on foot, in the weariness and heat of the day, with the same sun
+beating on His head as was shining on us at that very moment.</p>
+
+<p>And then, as I rode at Mr. Stanley's side, he reminded me of that last
+walk, when Jesus led His disciples out as far as to Bethany, and we
+wondered if, as they trod this road, they knew that He was so soon to
+leave them, and that it was the last walk that they would take with
+Him. If so, surely they must have been very sorrowful, surely their
+hearts must have been so full of the parting with Him that they must
+have lost sight, for a little time, of the blessing that parting was to
+bring to them, and the realisation of which was so soon to make them
+return, by that very road, to Jerusalem, "with great joy, praising and
+blessing God."</p>
+
+<p>I never enjoyed anything so much as that ride to Bethany; it was very
+quiet and peaceful, for Sir William and Claude were some way in front
+with the dragoman, and Evelyn, who rode next with Alice, was not much
+inclined for conversation, and kept her laughing companion tolerably
+still, so that we were not interrupted in our quiet talk together.</p>
+
+<p>Then we came to Bethany, a miserable, wretched, dirty village, and here
+a troop of squalid Arabs came out of their houses to look at us, and to
+beg of us, and a number of noisy dogs barked, and howled, and jumped
+up at our horses' heads, and we were very glad to get as quickly as
+possible out of the narrow, filthy street, and gradually to ascend the
+eastern side of the Mount of Olives.</p>
+
+<p>"I think the Ascension must have taken place somewhere here," said
+Mr. Stanley; "it would be just far enough away from the noise of the
+village, and such a likely place for them to come to."</p>
+
+<p>A lovely view was spread out before us; the village of Bethany lay at
+our feet, and then there stretched far away the great wilderness of
+Judea, and, beyond it, in the far distance, the fertile plain of the
+Jordan, like a line of silver running into the deep blue Dead Sea. Then
+the view was shut in by the grand Moab mountains, standing out like a
+wall against the sky.</p>
+
+<p>"This is very fine!" said Claude, as we stood looking at it. "This is
+well worth coming to see!"</p>
+
+<p>It was the same view that Lot had gazed on; yet where were the cities
+of the plain which he had seen in their glory?</p>
+
+<p>Then we crossed over the top of the mountain, and began to descend
+the western side, by the very path which David took when fleeing from
+Absalom, when we read, he climbed up the ascent barefoot, and with his
+head covered, weeping, as he went, at the ingratitude and cruelty of
+his son.</p>
+
+<p>We had a different view now, and yet a very beautiful one. The city of
+Jerusalem was lying at our feet, nestling amongst the hills.</p>
+
+<p>"'As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round
+about His people from henceforth even for ever,'" said Mr. Stanley to
+Evelyn and to me, as he rode between us.</p>
+
+<p>"If we could only remember that," said Evelyn, "how happy it would make
+us!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Stanley, "it would indeed; but is it not a comfort to
+know that He is round us, whether we remember it or not? The mountains
+do not remove, even though the clouds hide them from our sight."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never forget this ride," said Evelyn, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I shall never forget it!" said Mr. Stanley.</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought—" said Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you think, Miss Trafford?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that it would not seem quite the same to you as it does to
+us. I thought you would have become so accustomed to it that you would
+not enjoy it so much."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I never feel 'that' about the Mount of Olives," said Mr. Stanley;
+"other places in Jerusalem, I grant, have somewhat lost their
+sacredness in my eyes, but the Mount of Olives always seems holy
+ground. I think we can never forget that this was the last place our
+Lord's feet touched before He left us, and that it will be the very
+first place they will touch when He comes again; for 'His feet shall
+stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, which is before Jerusalem
+on the east.'</p>
+
+<p>"And then," he added, after a pause, "I have enjoyed it specially
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Claude and Alice left Jerusalem the next morning, to continue their
+journey through Samaria and Galilee; and we were not sorry to be
+alone when we visited the other deeply interesting places in and near
+Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>Sight-seeing in Palestine is, in this respect, perfectly different from
+sight-seeing in other places; unless there is some communion of heart
+between you and those who are with you, unless they love the Book and
+the Name which make every place around you so sacred, their remarks,
+and indeed the whole tone of their conversation, cannot fail to jar
+upon you, and to be somewhat trying and irksome to you.</p>
+
+<p>Alter they were gone, we thoroughly enjoyed our daily excursions in the
+city and its neighbourhood. Although Mr. Stanley was comparatively a
+stranger, still we had learnt to know him so well in those few weeks
+that he seemed more like an old and tried friend! He was a wonderful
+help to us in our exploration of the city, for not only did he know
+Jerusalem well himself, but he had, during his long stay there, made
+many friends among the residents in the city, who obtained for us
+admittance into several places which are closed to ordinary travellers.</p>
+
+<p>One of these, a German gentleman, was most kind in guiding us to
+several very interesting spots, and, amongst others, to Solomon's
+Quarry.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to see Solomon's Quarry?" said Mr. Stanley to Sir
+William, one day.</p>
+
+<p>"Solomon's Quarry!" repeated Sir William. "Where may that be, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is underneath the city," said Mr. Stanley, "and is a most curious
+and interesting place. My friend, who will guide us through it, has
+been very active in its exploration, and he has made a splendid plan of
+the whole place; so that he knows every inch of the way."</p>
+
+<p>"But is it really Solomon's Quarry?" said Sir William, incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"Probably so; for it is evident that stone has been taken out of it for
+some very great building, and then you remember what is told us of the
+building of Solomon's Temple:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'The House, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready
+before it was brought thither: so that there was neither hammer nor axe
+nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building.'<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Now we have only to look at the stones which still remain of the wall
+which Solomon built round the Temple platform, to see that the stones
+he used were so enormous, that they could not have been brought from
+any great distance. In order to move them at all, the labour must have
+been immense, and it has always been a mystery how such huge blocks
+could be hewn from any rock within a short distance of the building, so
+that they could be easily moved to it, and yet be so far away that no
+sound of axe or hammer should be heard in the Temple itself."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Sir William; "and the discovery of this quarry explains
+the mystery, for the stones could be hewn and finished underground, and
+then brought to the surface, and put at once in their proper positions.
+How very interesting!"</p>
+
+<p>"But we have a still stronger reason," said Mr. Stanley, "for feeling
+sure that this is Solomon's Quarry, for there is no other place, in the
+whole country round, which shows signs of having been used as a quarry,
+from which stone could have been taken for any large building; and the
+stone in these underground quarries is, moreover, the very same kind of
+stone as we find in the Temple buildings."</p>
+
+<p>"How very, very interesting!" said Sir William. "When can we go there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have arranged with my friend to meet us at the Damascus Gate
+to-morrow morning, if that will suit you," he added, turning to Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>We had no engagement for the next day, so it was settled that Mr.
+Stanley should call for us at eleven o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>But when the morning came, poor Evelyn was not well enough to go. She
+had a slight attack of the ague fever, which is so common in Jerusalem,
+and the doctor advised her to keep quiet for a day or two, lest she
+should have it more severely. I wanted to stay with her, but she would
+not hear of it, and insisted on my leaving her in Clemence's care.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't go, May," she said, "I shall never hear anything
+about it. Papa never can describe places; now don't be unkind and
+disobedient, but put on your hat and get ready." So, rather against my
+will, I set forth with the others.</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman who was our guide was most kind in explaining everything
+to us, and in giving us most varied and interesting information.</p>
+
+<p>"How were these quarries discovered?" Sir William asked.</p>
+
+<p>"In a very curious way," he said. "Not many years ago there was a lad
+shooting rock-pigeons outside the northern wall. He had a dog with him,
+and the dog suddenly disappeared. He had seen it last going behind an
+olive tree which grew at the bottom of the rock on which you see the
+wall is built. He went to look for the dog, and found on the face of
+the rock quite a small hole, so small that he could not get through
+it himself, though he heard his dog barking inside. So he came back
+into the city for help, and then the hole was made bigger, and they
+discovered this place."</p>
+
+<p>"How very curious!" said Sir William.</p>
+
+<p>"Here we are," said Mr. Stanley, "here is the hole; now, Miss Lindsay,
+are you ready to leave the sunshine behind?"</p>
+
+<p>We had brought candles with us, and we lighted them and began slowly to
+descend, crouching for some distance almost on our hands and knees, for
+there was not room to stand upright. But after we had gone thus for a
+few yards, we found ourselves in a large, rock-hewn cave, as spacious
+as an immense church, and from this point, passage after passage went
+in different directions.</p>
+
+<p>Our guide led the way and we followed; hall after hall, passage after
+passage, we explored; we went for nearly a mile underneath the streets
+of Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you picture the scene, 3,000 years ago," said Mr. Stanley to me,
+"when the place was full of Solomon's workmen? Look! Here are the marks
+of their tools in the stone, as fresh as ever. And do you see this?"
+he said, as he pointed to a little niche in the wall. "This is where
+the workman put his lamp whilst he was at work; you see even the black
+smoke which the flame left on the stone above is still here."</p>
+
+<p>"How very wonderful!" I said. "Oh, Mr. Stanley, it is an interesting
+place!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, smiling, "I knew you would like it, that is why I
+wanted so much to come here; it is one of my favourite places, and I
+wanted you to see it. It is a great comfort to me, oftentimes, this
+deserted quarry."</p>
+
+<p>"How can it be a comfort to you?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It is such a wonderful picture," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"A picture of what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is not there a temple being built now?" he said, gently. "A far
+grander and more beautiful one than Solomon's—the temple in the
+Heavenly Jerusalem; you see now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I answered, "I think I do; but please tell me; I like to hear
+your thoughts about it, and why it comforts you."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think the dark, dismal quarry is like this world; it is not
+a very bright place, is it? And you and I both know what trouble is."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know that I did, Mr. Stanley?"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it by your face; I can read faces very well," he said, smiling;
+"but though we are both in the dark quarry now, we shall not always
+have to stay here—for God, the Master Builder, has hewn us from the
+rock, cut us away from old surroundings, and from the old nature. We
+are no longer a part of the old rock, but by God's grace have been
+taken out of it; do you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean when we were converted?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and it was a hard wrench at the time, was it not? But we can be
+thankful for the work of the crowbar now."</p>
+
+<p>"But we are still in the quarry," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and why? Because the work is not done, we are not yet fit for
+the Temple—a rough stone would be a disfigurement to God's beautiful
+building—each stone must be cut, and chipped, and faced, and squared
+after it is hewn out of the rock. Our bad tempers, and habits, and
+unholy thoughts must all, by degrees, be done away with. It is a work
+of time and patience; and it is not always pleasant to feel the pick
+and the chisel at work on us, but it is such a comfort to know in whose
+Hand the tool is, and that He can make no mistakes."</p>
+
+<p>"What are the tools?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think there are different tools for different kinds of
+work?" he said. "Look how many tools have been used here. There is the
+mark of a heavy crowbar, which has severed the block from the side
+of the rock. And look here at this stone which has been left on the
+ground, you can see the mark of the pick, with which the block was
+brought a little into shape. And here you can see the marks of the
+finer tools, the chisels, which were used to give the necessary finish
+to the stones."</p>
+
+<p>"And God's tools?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Are just as varied, are they not? A great trouble comes—a heavy
+blow like the great crowbar, and separates us from the world. But,
+after that, day by day, and hour by hour, God must work upon us with
+His finer tools—small vexations, little crosses, little losses, home
+troubles; all these, I think, are God's tools, making us ready for a
+place in the Temple. Don't you think it is a wonderful comfort to look
+upon worries and cares as God's tools?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "that is a nice thought."</p>
+
+<p>"And soon," said Mr. Stanley, "the work will be finished, and then we
+shall leave the dark quarry behind for ever, and be carried to our
+place in the sunshine and light of the glorious Temple above. So,
+you see, I was not wrong in saying that this deserted quarry was a
+comforting place; you will think of it sometimes, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I shall," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"And next time a trouble comes which you cannot understand, and which
+seems so very hard to bear, just say to yourself, 'It is God's chisel
+at work upon me.'"</p>
+
+<p>I had much to tell Evelyn when I came back to the hotel, and much, very
+much, to treasure up in my own heart for use in days to come.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley got for me a piece of stone from the walls of the quarry,
+with the marks of the chisel upon it, and I put it carefully away, with
+my spray of olive-leaves.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image050" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image050.jpg" alt="image050">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image051" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image051.jpg" alt="image051">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A MYSTERY.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image052" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image052.jpg" alt="image052">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;THE next morning Evelyn was much better. The fever had
+passed away, but she felt tired and exhausted, so she decided to keep
+quietly in her room until lunch time, as she was very anxious to join
+us in an expedition which Mr. Stanley had planned for that evening. We
+were to visit an old tomb, which had just been discovered on the road
+to Bethlehem, and in which Mr. Stanley's German friend, Mr. Schwarz,
+took a great interest. Mr. Schwarz would not be able to guide us
+there himself, as he was going away from Jerusalem for some weeks on
+business; but he very kindly promised that his daughter would show us
+the way to the tomb, as Mr. Stanley had never been there before.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Evelyn was most anxious to go with us, so we arranged to start when the
+day began to grow cooler, for Mr. Schwarz said that, as it was not a
+long ride, we could easily be back before sunset.</p>
+
+<p>I was up very early that morning, and leaving Evelyn in bed, I went
+downstairs to write an account of our visit to Solomon's Quarry in a
+letter to my sister Maggie. Her aunts took great interest in hearing
+of all the places I was visiting, although they still predicted that I
+should not come back alive.</p>
+
+<p>I was busy with my letter, sitting at a little table in the window of
+our sitting-room, waiting till Sir William should come downstairs for
+breakfast, when the door opened and Mr. Stanley came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how lovely!" I exclaimed, as soon as I turned round.</p>
+
+<p>He had a pretty little basket in his hand, filled with maiden-hair
+ferns, scarlet anemones, and cyclamen.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how very beautiful, Mr. Stanley; where did you get them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have been for an early walk in the Valley of Hinnom, and climbing
+about on the hills on either side. I am so glad you like them; I
+thought you would."</p>
+
+<p>"They are very lovely!" I said. "Evelyn will be charmed, she is so fond
+of flowers; I will put them in water, and take them upstairs to her.
+She is better to-day, Mr. Stanley."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad of that," he said; "the fever soon passes away if care is
+taken. But I gathered these flowers for you—if you will have them."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, very much indeed," I said; "I did not know they were for
+me; it was very good of you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am so glad you like them," he said; "I could see you were fond of
+flowers the other day on the Mount of Olives. I must be going now;
+will you tell Sir William I will meet you at the Jaffa Gate, at four
+o'clock? There are several people I must see to-day about various
+things, so I am afraid I must leave you all to your own devices until
+evening. Good-bye, take care of yourself; I don't want you to have
+fever."</p>
+
+<p>He was half-way to the door when he turned back again.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a little piece of paper here, in the middle of the flowers,"
+he said; "that is for you, for no one else, remember. The verses are
+only written in pencil; I don't know whether you will be able to make
+them out. They are only about the flowers," he added, smiling; "you
+will not be angry, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," I said; and he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>I put the paper, which I found among the ferns, in my pocket, for
+a minute afterwards Sir William entered the room. I gave him Mr.
+Stanley's message, and he admired the flowers, and rang the bell for
+water that I might arrange them before they withered. I did not tell
+him that they were for me.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast Sir William asked me to read aloud to him the leading
+articles in a copy of the "Times" which had arrived by the mail that
+morning, and so it was some time before I could find an opportunity to
+look at my paper.</p>
+
+<p>I opened it at last, as soon as I was alone, and read it more than once:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FLOWERS' MESSAGE.<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We grew upon the very hills<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Where Jesus used to stand;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We blossomed on the lonely paths<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of God's once Holy Land.<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There is a city near our home—<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A sad and ruined place—<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;For those who lived within her walls<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Let slip the day of grace!<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Yet beautiful in all the earth<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mount Zion used to be—<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The city of the Heavenly King,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And Israel's glory she!<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Now, filled with misery and sin,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Defiled by guilt and shame,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And trampled under foot by those<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of every creed and name.<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh pray, then, for Jerusalem,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The city of our birth;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh shed a tear for her who was<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The joy of all the earth.<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The ancient promise holdeth good,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It hath not been reversed—<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;"Blessed is he who blesseth thee,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And he who hates is cursed."<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;So we from the Judean hills,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This simple message bring—<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;"Oh pray for poor Jerusalem,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The city of the King."<br>
+&nbsp;<br>
+For M. L., from her friend HOWARD STANLEY.<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>I looked forward very much to that evening ride, and four o'clock
+seemed as if it would never come.</p>
+
+<p>At last the horses arrived, and Sir William, Evelyn, and I mounted and
+rode to the Jaffa Gate.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley had not come, but Miss Schwarz was there waiting for us.
+We had been introduced to her the day before, so she came at once and
+spoke to us, and we rode up and down together, looking from time to
+time at the gate to see if Mr. Stanley were coming.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very extraordinary," said Sir William, "that he should be late!
+We have always found him such a very punctual man. Are you sure he said
+four o'clock, Miss Lindsay?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," I said, "quite sure. 'Four o'clock at the Jaffa Gate,' that
+was what he said."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he told me to be here at four o'clock," said Miss Schwarz; "he
+will come in a few minutes, I should think; shall we ride towards 'the
+big tree,' as we always call it? It is not really a very large tree;
+but you see we have no trees that deserve the name in Jerusalem, so it
+looks very big to us. It is only a little way, and Mr. Stanley will see
+us there, and we shall get some shade."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Sir William; "you had better go there; I want you to
+keep out of the sun as much as possible, Evelyn, and I will wait at
+this corner and catch Mr. Stanley as he comes through the gate."</p>
+
+<p>So we rode down to the big tree, and Miss Schwarz told us how she
+used to come and play there with her little friends when she was a
+child, and how beautiful and green she thought it till she had been to
+Germany, and had seen the trees in Europe.</p>
+
+<p>We found Miss Schwarz a very pleasant companion, and the first few
+minutes passed away quite happily; but, as time went on, we began to
+wonder very much why Mr. Stanley did not appear.</p>
+
+<p>After about half an hour Sir William came slowly down the road to meet
+us.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot see him," he said; "it is very strange! He must have
+forgotten it! I think I will go as far as the Latin Convent, and
+inquire for him."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think he would forget it," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Sir William, "young men often have short
+memories, and you said he was going to visit various friends this
+morning. I will just go and inquire for him. Will you ride up and down
+till I come back? I shall not be long."</p>
+
+<p>It was, however, some time before Sir William reappeared at the Jaffa
+Gate, and then he was alone; Mr. Stanley was not with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, papa," said. Evelyn, "did you find our runaway dragoman?"</p>
+
+<p>Sir William looked grave and perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>My heart beat very fast, for I felt sure that something was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't make it out," he said; "he has gone to Jaffa!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gone to Jaffa!" we all exclaimed together.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "the porter tells me, he took a horse early this
+morning; it must have been soon after you saw him, Miss Lindsay,
+about ten o'clock the man said, and he went down to Jaffa. The porter
+thinks he was going back to England. I can't understand it; it is very
+strange!"</p>
+
+<p>"What can be the matter?" Evelyn said.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot imagine," said Sir William; "I think he might have let us
+know. The porter said he did not even take his luggage, but left it to
+be sent after him by the next steamer. It seems there is a steamer that
+leaves Jaffa for Alexandria to-night, and I suppose he wanted to catch
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Did not the man know why he left in such a hurry?" Evelyn asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he did not seem to know. I asked him if a telegram had arrived
+for Mr. Stanley, and he said he did not think so, he had not taken
+one in; but the man talked such extraordinary French that I could not
+understand him very well. I wonder Stanley did not let us know he was
+going; it was very thoughtless of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he will write from Jaffa," Evelyn suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hope so," said Sir William; "but I think he might have let us
+known before this afternoon, and not have kept us waiting here in the
+sun. I gave him credit for more thoughtfulness. It is a very strange
+thing; I do not like it at all. Well, what are we to do? Miss Schwarz,
+we ought not to keep you standing here; will it be too late to go to
+the tomb?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," she said, "not at all; it is quite a short ride, we shall be
+back long before sunset. Shall we go at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think, perhaps, we had better go," said Sir William, with some
+hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"You can talk Arabic, I suppose, Miss Schwarz, in case we need an
+interpreter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," she said, laughing, "as well as an Arab. I could talk Arabic
+before I could talk German."</p>
+
+<p>So we set off for the tomb. But we were none of us in very good
+spirits. Sir William was complaining all the way of Mr. Stanley's bad
+behaviour to us, and Evelyn was defending him to the best of her power,
+and assuring her father that there was certain to be a letter from
+Jaffa.</p>
+
+<p>I am afraid that Miss Schwarz must have thought us very dull and
+uninteresting people. She was an exceedingly nice girl, just my own
+age, and, at any other time, I should so much have enjoyed my ride
+with her. But that afternoon I could not tell what was the matter with
+me, but it was an effort to talk. I roused myself, once or twice, to
+take an interest in the places and the people that we were passing on
+the green Bethlehem plain; but I found it very difficult, my thoughts
+seemed to be far away. I was ashamed of myself, and struggled against
+it, and asked Miss Schwarz many questions about the place to which we
+were going, and she took great pains to explain everything to us, and
+to make our ride pleasant and interesting to us. I hope she did not
+think us ungrateful.</p>
+
+<p>We went for some distance along the road to Bethlehem, and then we
+turned up amongst the mountains. It was a very wild, rough road, indeed
+after a time we had no road at all, but had to cross over ploughed
+fields and the shingle-covered hillsides. The view was splendid; a
+valley was beneath us, quite surrounded by hills, on the sides of which
+we could see the remains of many of the ancient terraces. It must,
+indeed, have been a lovely place when it was planted with trees; but
+the bare, sandy heights were very tiring to the eye, and had it not
+been for a few patches of green, and the scarlet anemones and yellow
+Bethlehem stars which were peeping up between the stones, the hillsides
+would have been very uninteresting and monotonous. In the distance we
+could see the blue waters of the Dead Sea, and the white limestone
+mountains of Quarantania.</p>
+
+<p>At last we reached a place where there were many ruins, the remains
+of an ancient village; there were several old wells, and stones with
+crosses carved upon them, which showed that they dated back to the
+times of the Crusaders. We passed through these ruins, and Miss Schwarz
+took us to the side of the hill, where the newly-discovered tomb was to
+be found.</p>
+
+<p>It seems that the Arabs, living in a village near, were ploughing on
+the hillside, and one of them moved a large stone out of the way of
+his plough. To his astonishment he saw that the stone had covered a
+deep, dark hole; he went down into this hole and found himself in a
+stone chamber, the masonry of which was quite perfect. Another entrance
+had been afterwards made into the tomb, and through this Miss Schwarz
+led us. She told us that her father thinks it was a burying-place
+for Christians in the fifth or sixth century, so it is not very old
+compared with most of the places in Jerusalem, but it is most curious
+and interesting. There are five stone steps leading down to the door
+of the tomb, and the door itself is made of one block of stone, and is
+still on its hinges, and moves backwards and forwards most easily.</p>
+
+<p>All round the chamber were places cut out of the stone for the coffins
+to lie in—there were twelve of these in the principal room, but two
+other smaller chambers, leading out of the first one, contained more
+graves; these, however, had not been fully opened out when we were
+there. A large stone was at the mouth of each grave when it was
+discovered, and the Arabs had torn these away with the greatest haste,
+hoping to find some treasure buried with the dead. But though they
+opened every grave, they found inside nothing but dust.</p>
+
+<p>We were just peeping into one of the further chambers, and trying
+to count the number of graves in it, when we heard a great noise
+outside—shouting, and yelling, and jabbering, and, to our great alarm
+and dismay, a number of Arabs rushed into the tomb, shaking their fists
+at us, and screaming at the top of their voices. Sir William was very
+much agitated and frightened, for it was a wild and lonely place, far
+out of the reach of any European building or any public road.</p>
+
+<p>We scrambled out as quickly as we could, followed closely by the
+Arabs. Miss Schwarz was haranguing them in Arabic, but as we could
+not understand either what they were saying to her or she was saying
+to them, we were very much alarmed indeed, and felt sure that they
+intended to rob us, or even to murder us.</p>
+
+<p>When we came out of the tomb we were still more terrified, for we saw
+that some of the Arabs had seized our horses, which we had tied to a
+tree near, and were preparing to lead them away.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, I wish we had never come!" said Sir William. "What shall we
+do? If I could only talk to these fellows! Don't be frightened, Evelyn
+darling. What do they want, Miss Schwarz? What do you think had better
+be done?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think they only want money," she said, turning away from the Arabs,
+who were shaking their fists at her most fiercely. "I will see what
+can be done. They say we have insulted the sheik of the village by
+entering the tomb without leave, and of course they threaten all sorts
+of dreadful things. But I will manage them; don't be alarmed! Have you
+any money with you, Sir William?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a little," he said, "not very much. How much will they want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they shall not have very much," she said. "Have you a mejedie? It
+is a large Turkish coin—larger than half a crown; it is worth about
+three and sixpence."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think I have," he said; "I will look."</p>
+
+<p>"No, not now, please," she said; "wait a minute or two."</p>
+
+<p>So she had another long conversation with the Arabs, and then, to our
+astonishment, they brought up our horses, and helped us to mount in
+the most gallant manner. Then, when we were quite ready to start, Miss
+Schwarz turned to Sir William.</p>
+
+<p>"They may have the mejedie now," she said; "if you will give it to me,
+I will hand it to the sheik, and he will divide it amongst them."</p>
+
+<p>For they were all holding out their hands greedily to Sir William to
+receive the coin.</p>
+
+<p>"Now it is all right," she said; "let us ride on quickly."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a splendid dragoman, Miss Schwarz!" said Sir William. "How did
+you manage them so well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I threatened them with the English consul, and the German consul,
+and with the Pacha, and with all sorts of other authorities," she said,
+laughing. "I knew they would not dare to hurt us; they would never hear
+the last of it if they did. And, besides, the sheik knows my father
+well, and as soon as I mentioned his name they became very civil. I
+hope you did not mind giving them the mejedie, Sir William; but I
+promised them a little reward if they were good."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not at all," he said, laughing; "it was a cheap way of getting
+off! They would not get much each, poor fellows!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, quite plenty," said Miss Schwarz; "if they had been more civil
+we might have given them a little more. I hope you were not very much
+frightened, Miss Trafford."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, only a little," said Evelyn; but she looked pale and tired, and we
+were all very glad to get safely back to the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn lay on the sofa in the sitting-room all the evening, and I sat
+beside her, whilst Sir William went into the coffee-room and discussed
+the adventures of the day with a party of English travellers who had
+arrived that evening from Jaffa.</p>
+
+<p>My beautiful ferns and flowers looked withered after the heat of
+the day, so I gave them fresh water, and pressed one or two of the
+prettiest in blotting-paper. Then I sat down beside Evelyn, with my
+work in my hand, but I did not feel inclined to sew. I felt very
+dull and depressed, and Evelyn seemed so likewise. I said to myself
+that it was only the reaction after the excitement and fright we had
+experienced that afternoon, and yet I felt that, after all, that was
+not the real reason.</p>
+
+<p>Was it because—could it be because—Mr. Stanley had gone away?
+For, after all, he was only a stranger; a pleasant—yes, a very
+pleasant—travelling companion, who had been very kind and useful to
+us when we were in his company, but who would think no more of us now
+that he had gone away. Like ships meeting on the sea, we had gone side
+by side for a little time, but now we had parted—probably near to meet
+again. That was all; it was nothing to be dull or miserable about. And
+I was quite angry with myself for having given way to the feeling of
+depression which had crept over me. I tried to think of my work, of
+Maggie, of our encounter with the Arabs in the tomb, of anything but of
+Mr. Stanley's mysterious disappearance!</p>
+
+<p>But, somehow or other, I could not tell why, my thoughts would come
+back to it, in spite of all my efforts to turn them to other subjects.
+I could not help wondering whether Evelyn was thinking of the same
+thing. Why was she so quiet this evening? Could it be that she missed
+Mr. Stanley? Was I right in fancying that was the reason? Did she
+really care for him more than for an ordinary acquaintance?</p>
+
+<p>I looked up at her, and found she was watching me, with a curious
+expression on her face—half amused, half inquiring. I rather resented
+it, I am afraid, and looked down again quickly, and went on steadily
+with my work.</p>
+
+<p>"It will all come right, May, dear," she said, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"What will come right, Evelyn?" I asked. "What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean about Mr. Stanley's mysterious disappearance," she said,
+smiling; "I am sure we shall get a solution of the mystery in a day or
+two."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," I said, carelessly; "we shall have to find another dragoman;
+that is the only drawback."</p>
+
+<p>"The only drawback!" she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think so," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think so either, May," she said; "I know you don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, perhaps not," I said. "How close it is to-night, Evelyn! Would
+you mind me taking a little walk on the verandah outside the window—to
+get cool before bed-time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not at all," she said, smiling; "go, May, dear, it will do you
+good."</p>
+
+<p>So I left my work and went outside the window.</p>
+
+<p>It was a quiet, starlight night, and the stars in the East are
+wonderfully brilliant and beautiful. I walked up and down for some
+time, not exactly thinking, not exactly praying, but with my heart
+lifted upwards, above this changing world, to the unchanging Friend
+above. And an answer came to that upward appeal. It came in the
+recollection of some words I had heard a few days before:</p>
+
+<p>"'Next time a trouble comes which you cannot understand, and which seems
+so very hard to bear, just say to yourself it is God's chisel at work
+upon me—you will find it such a help.'"</p>
+
+<p>And it was a help to me; the very help that I needed—God's chisel at
+work upon me, then I must not complain; I must not murmur; I must not
+even wonder; I must just trust and wait.</p>
+
+<p>Looking up at the bright starry sky, I said, in the words of a
+favourite verse:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;"He doeth all things well,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We say it now with tears;<br>
+&nbsp;But we shall sing it with those we love,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Through bright eternal years."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image053" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image053.jpg" alt="image053">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image054" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image054.jpg" alt="image054">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>SUNDAY ON MOUNT ZION.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image055" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image055.jpg" alt="image055">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;THE next day was Sunday, and I think we were all glad of
+this. Sir William felt unable to make any plans without Mr. Stanley's
+advice, but as we had already been several times to the pretty little
+English church, we had no difficulty in knowing how to spend our time
+on Sunday.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The service began at ten o'clock, so we were up early and started for
+church directly after breakfast. I felt comforted and rested during the
+service, and hoped to got just the message I needed from the sermon. I
+must confess I was somewhat disappointed when the text was given out,
+for it seemed to me that no comfort or help could be found in it. It
+was a singular text, and one I had never noticed before. The preacher
+was a German by birth, but he spoke English as if it had been his
+native language. We were told afterwards that he was a converted Jew,
+and the missionary to the Jews in Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>The text was from Leviticus xxiii.40:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Ye shall take you the boughs of goodly trees, branches of palm trees,
+and the boughs of thick trees, and willows of the brook; and ye shall
+rejoice before the Lord your God seven days."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>The clergyman first answered the thought which I had had in my heart,
+that there was no lesson for me in the text, by showing that all God's
+word was written for our learning, and that these Jewish feasts and
+ceremonies were wonderfully suggestive and helpful, if we looked into
+their real meaning and significance.</p>
+
+<p>The text contained directions for the Feast of Tabernacles, the feast
+of joy. It came after the Day of Atonement, after pardon had been
+obtained, after sin had been put away. First must coma forgiveness,
+then follows joy; pardon first, rejoicing afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>"And in the text," he said, "we are given four conditions under which
+alone the joy of the Lord can be ours; four characteristics of the true
+Christian, who can alone rejoice before his God."</p>
+
+<p>I felt in my own heart, as he was speaking, how little I knew of the
+true joy of the Lord. I was so easily cast down by little earthly
+troubles and worries, and I so soon lost the happiness and peace of
+feeling the Lord's presence with me, and the Lord's smile upon me. The
+last two days, for instance; oh, how depressed and miserable I had
+felt! Could it be that I was overlooking and neglecting one of the four
+things pictured in the text?</p>
+
+<p>Then the sermon went on to show that although these four kinds of trees
+meant nothing to our English ears, they meant a very great deal to the
+men to whom the direction was given, for, to them, each kind of tree
+was a word-picture of some particular grace. Just as we speak of the
+innocent daisy, the humble lily of the valley, the modest violet; and
+just as we take these flowers as emblems to us of innocence, humility,
+and modesty; and just as we talk of "a butterfly life," and every one
+knows at once what we mean,—so in the same way, the Jews had emblematic
+meanings for different trees, and flowers, and other things in nature,
+and they understood perfectly well what was symbolized when these trees
+or flowers were mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>The four kinds of trees in the text had a very deep and beautiful
+meaning for them. The goodly trees, or citron trees, were their emblem
+for a pure and true heart; the palm trees were a picture to them of
+uprightness and bold straightforwardness. The thick trees, or myrtle
+trees, were their symbol of contentment. The myrtle leaf was supposed
+to be in the shape of an eye, and was always used by them as the emblem
+of a modest and contented eye. The willows of the brook were to them a
+picture of a mouth filled with words of kindness and truth. The leaves
+of the willow were thought to be in the shape of a mouth, and they were
+most particular that only those willow trees should be used in the
+Feast of Tabernacles as had smooth, soft leaves. Those of a sharp and
+prickly nature, and the edge of the leaves of which is rough like a
+saw, were never allowed to be gathered or used in this ceremony, that
+they might understand thereby, that in order to have true joy they must
+set a watch before their mouth, and only suffer words of truth and
+kindness to come out of it.</p>
+
+<p>Four characteristics then were at once brought to their minds, when the
+direction in the text was given. The Israelites understood at once,
+that to be able really to rejoice in the Lord they must have a heart
+pure towards God, they must be upright as the palm-tree, they must be
+contented as the myrtle, and they must have mouths ever speaking words
+of kindness and truth.</p>
+
+<p>And then he asked us to examine ourselves by these four tests. Were we
+keeping the door of our hearts, guarding it against all evil thoughts,
+evil motives, evil desires? Were we also upright before God and man,
+growing ever heavenward, Godward?</p>
+
+<p>Were we contented and happy to be just where God placed us, and to
+do just the work that God had chosen for us to do? And how about our
+words; were we careful to be strictly truthful in every little matter?
+And did we guard against ever letting unkind or hasty words come out
+of our mouth? "If not," he said, "how could we expect to be able to
+rejoice before the Lord?"</p>
+
+<p>I have not time to write down more of the sermon now, but I felt it
+very much; it went straight to my heart, and made me feel that it was
+my own fault that I was so seldom in a rejoicing frame of mind. Oh, how
+earnestly I prayed that I might be more careful over my heart, that
+I might be upright as the palm, contented as the myrtle, and that my
+words might ever be acceptable in the sight of my Lord.</p>
+
+<p>A few days afterwards, as we were sitting at breakfast, the waiter came
+into the room with a letter. Sir William looked at the postmark.</p>
+
+<p>"Alexandria!" he said. "Well, I am glad he has written at last!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it from Mr. Stanley, papa?" asked Evelyn.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "I should think so; I do not know any one else who is
+likely to be in Alexandria!"</p>
+
+<p>He opened the letter, and glanced hastily at its contents. Then he took
+up the envelope, and looked at it again; then he turned once more to
+the first page of the letter and began to read it through.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn and I sat watching him. I tried to go on with my breakfast, but
+I felt as if the food would choke me, for Sir William looked more and
+more impatient and annoyed as he went on reading.</p>
+
+<p>When he had finished, he tossed the letter on the table, saying
+angrily, "He is a good-for-nothing rascal!"</p>
+
+<p>I looked up quickly, and Evelyn asked in a trembling voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Who is, papa—not Mr. Stanley?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not Mr. Stanley," he said; "at least he may be; I do not know that
+he is; but that cousin of yours, Donald Trafford—the letter is from
+him. An idle good-for-nothing rascal, that is what he is! And I shall
+tell his father so when I see him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me have the letter, papa," said Evelyn. She was as white as a
+sheet, and trembling with agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't trouble about it, darling," said Sir William, in quite
+a different tone from that in which he had spoken before; "he is not
+worth troubling about; he really is not. If I could only get you to see
+that. Here, take the letter, I suppose I shall have to let you see it;
+but don't make yourself ill again, for my sake!"</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn took the letter and read it slowly through. As she read it a
+deep crimson flush came into her pale face; but this faded away and
+left her as white as death when she had finished reading. Then she rose
+from the table, without speaking a word, left the letter lying beside
+her plate, and went out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>I was rising to follow her when Sir William said:</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a little, Miss Lindsay, perhaps she will get over it better
+alone; if she has a good cry, it will do her good. Poor child, what a
+pity she ever took a fancy to that worthless fellow! Read his letter,
+Miss Lindsay, and tell me what you think of it."</p>
+
+<p>I took it up, and read as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"My DEAR UNCLE,<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I have no doubt you think that I am in Port Said, though I did
+contrive to keep out of your way during your short stay in that
+delightful place.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"But I am not there now, but have removed to a town many miles distant,
+which I will not name, lest you should feel it your duty to report me
+in England.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I should not have troubled you with a letter, but that I wanted to
+ask you to lend me a trifling sum to start me in business in the
+town in which I am now living. I have had the offer of a first-rate
+partnership, which will enable me soon to become a rich man, but it is
+necessary that I should advance something in the shape of capital. My
+partner asks for £100, but I think he will be content with £50, if you
+are not inclined to forward me the larger sum.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I am sure, dear uncle, you will not refuse to grant this trifling
+request, when I tell you that I have a wife depending on me, and that
+unless I can avail myself of this opening (which is really a splendid
+one), there is nothing but starvation before us both.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"As I am now a married man, there is no chance of my again being an
+annoyance to you, so I feel sure you will not deny me this small and
+last favour.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Please address to 'Monsieur Junôt, Post Office, Alexandria.' M. Junôt
+is my wife's brother; she is a French girl, and he will call for the
+letter, and forward the remittance to me.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"With love to Evelyn and yourself,<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">"Believe me, dear uncle,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">"Your affectionate nephew,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">"DONALD TRAFFORD."</span><br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"P.S.—You will wonder how I knew you were in Jerusalem. I met a
+dragoman the other day who was on board the same steamer with you, and
+he heard that you were to spend a long time in Jerusalem."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever hear anything like that?" said Sir William, as I folded
+up the letter. "Is not that a piece of cool impertinence?"</p>
+
+<p>"He does not seem much ashamed of himself," I could not help saying.</p>
+
+<p>"Ashamed of himself! No, indeed! There is not a word about his running
+off with that money. He is an idle, selfish, good-for-nothing fellow!
+And he was always the same; it was always a mystery to me what Evelyn
+could see to like in him. Poor child, I hope it will not make her ill
+again!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, I think not," I said; "I think she sees now what his real
+character is."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so," he said, anxiously; "perhaps if you went upstairs you
+could say a word or two to comfort her. You know best—do you think we
+should leave her alone or not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I will just go upstairs and see," I said.</p>
+
+<p>To my astonishment I found Evelyn sitting in her room busily at work,
+and looking quite calm and cheerful. I fancied she had been crying
+a little, but she welcomed me with a smile, and asked me if I had
+read Donald's letter. I told her that Sir William had wished me to do
+so, and then she asked me what I thought of it. I did not answer her
+directly, for I did not like to say what I really thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you what I think of it," she said, "and I shall tell papa
+when I go downstairs. I think it is a shocking letter. I cannot think
+how Donald could ever write it! But May," she said, "please don't think
+I am troubling about it. I had given up loving Donald some time ago,
+ever since I found out that he was so very different to what I always
+thought he was; but I pitied him dreadfully. I thought he would be so
+miserable and wretched, and feel so guilty and ashamed when he thought
+about his having taken that money. I always pictured him wishing, oh,
+so much, that he had never done it, and trying very hard to save his
+money so that he might be able to pay it back again. But now, May,
+I can do neither; I can neither love him nor pity him; he does not
+deserve either love or pity, does he?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he does not," I said; "the only thing for which we can pity him is
+for his wickedness."</p>
+
+<p>"Just think of his marrying a French girl," she said. "I wonder if
+it is the one who waited on us in the shop in Port Said. Well, I am
+glad he wrote that letter; it is far better to know what he really is.
+I can't think how I could be so much deceived in him. I am afraid I
+cannot read people's characters very well. But do not let us talk about
+him any more to-day, May; the trouble has quite gone, it has indeed,
+but I do not like to talk about it; let us speak of something else."</p>
+
+<p>Sir William was very much relieved to find that Evelyn was in good
+spirits, and that she took his view of Donald Trafford's conduct. He
+was still very much ruffled and annoyed by the letter, and was, in
+consequence, fidgety and impatient with the world in general all day.
+Not liking to speak about his nephew for fear of distressing Evelyn, he
+gave vent, instead, to his feelings about Mr. Stanley's disappearance.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stanley evidently did not intend to write now," he said; "it was
+one of the strangest things he knew, his going off in that way. It just
+proved what he had always heard, that it does not do to make friends
+with people whom you meet whilst travelling. It is impossible to tell
+what they are, and you may be imposed upon to any extent."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa," said Evelyn, "what do you mean? Surely you do not mean that
+Air. Stanley imposed upon us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't say that he did," said Six William; "but I say that
+we don't know that he did not. You must confess that it was a very
+suspicious thing his disappearing so suddenly, and never giving us a
+hint as to where he was going. I don't like it at all."</p>
+
+<p>I longed to speak, but I felt as if I could hardly trust myself to do
+so, for I might have said more than I intended, if I had opened my
+lips. So I left the defence to Evelyn, and she took it up indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is really too bad, papa," she said, "to speak of Mr. Stanley in
+that way! I think he is one of the nicest and best men I have ever
+seen."</p>
+
+<p>"So he seemed to be, I grant," said Sir William; "but how do we know
+who he is, or what he is? We only know it from what he told us himself;
+and that may be true—I hope it is—or it may be false. That is why it
+is very foolish ever to be too friendly with people you meet when
+travelling; they may be all they profess to be, or they may not."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mr. Stanley is a great friend of Lord Moreton, papa," said Evelyn;
+"I know he is. He told me he was the day Claude and Alice were here."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know he told you so," said Sir William; "I never heard Lord
+Moreton mention him."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you not write and ask Lord Moreton, papa? It is quite worth
+while, and then we shall know one way or the other."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, perhaps I will," said Sir William; "that will settle the matter
+anyhow; perhaps Lord Moreton may be able to clear up the mystery."</p>
+
+<p>The next day was the mail day, and Sir William gave me his letters
+to take to the man who was going to post them. I looked through the
+addresses as I went downstairs, but there was none to Lord Moreton: he
+had forgotten it.</p>
+
+<p>We did not much enjoy our visit to Jerusalem after Mr. Stanley left us.
+We had very cold and cheerless weather, and the bare stone floors and
+covered stones were poor substitutes for the richly-carpeted rooms and
+bright blazing fires in Alliston Hall. Then during the cold weather it
+rained incessantly the whole day, and the rain was far heavier than we
+ever see it in England. We were obliged to keep indoors in the hotel,
+listening to the sound of the water which was rushing down the spouts
+of the house into the cisterns, in which it was carefully preserved for
+use during the following summer, and trying to amuse ourselves as best
+we could with our work, and the few books to be found in the hotel. Sir
+William became very impatient, and a great longing came suddenly over
+him to go homewards. He was tired of foreign travelling, and foreign
+places, and foreign hotels, he said, and Evelyn seemed so well and
+strong, that he thought there could be no risk in her returning to
+England.</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn and I assented cordially to the proposal, so it was decided to
+leave Jaffa by the very next steamer.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>We visited many places in Italy and Germany, and spent a long time on
+the return journey; for Sir William was afraid, for Evelyn's sake, of
+arriving, in England till the spring had fairly begun.</p>
+
+<p>I was very much interested in a great deal that we saw, and yet I did
+not enjoy it nearly so much as I had always imagined I should enjoy a
+tour on the Continent. I felt unsettled and restless, and longed to be
+back in England.</p>
+
+<p>We stayed for some weeks in London before going to Alliston, for Sir
+William had some business that he was anxious to transact, before
+returning home. London was bright and gay just then, and we enjoyed our
+visit to it very much. But what gave me more pleasure than anything
+else was meeting Miss Irvine again. Her home in London was in the next
+street to the one in which we were staying, and we saw her every day.</p>
+
+<p>We were much interested in hearing of the work for God that Miss Irvine
+was doing in one of the very poorest and lowest of the London parishes.
+She spoke very little of it herself, but we found out by degrees that,
+during the last few months, a most wonderful work, of which she was the
+centre, had been going on amongst the poor lost people who are crowded
+together in the alleys and courts of that part of London.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst we were there, a tea was to be given to the women who attended
+her mothers' meeting. Their husbands were also invited, for she hoped
+by this means to be able to reach many whom it was impossible to see or
+to speak with in any other way.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Irvine asked us, the day before the tea took place, whether we
+should like to be present. Evelyn accepted her invitation joyfully, but
+Sir William demurred a little when he heard of it.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like your going into those low parts of the city, my dear," he
+said to Evelyn; "in your state of health you ought to be careful. There
+are sure to be people there just recovering from fever or small-pox,
+and it can't be good for you to go through those dirty, filthy, close
+streets."</p>
+
+<p>Evelyn looked very much disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>"I want so very much to see Lilla's poor people, papa," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He was going to answer her, when Miss Irvine said, "Perhaps if Evelyn
+does not come, you will look in for a few minutes, Sir William? Lord
+Moreton is going to give them a little address after tea, and he would
+like to meet you."</p>
+
+<p>Sir William fell into the snare she had laid for him.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Moreton!" he exclaimed. "How did you get him to come? Why, he is
+not in town now."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but he is coming up for my tea-party," said Miss Irvine, laughing;
+"he takes a great interest in my little mission work; indeed, if it had
+not been for Lord Moreton I could not have carried it on. He supplies
+the means, whilst I try to find the workers. He hires the room for me
+in which I have all my meetings, and in which the tea will be given
+to-morrow night."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" said Sir William. "I had no idea of that. And you say he is
+going to give you an address?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he has promised to say a few words to the mothers; he has
+spoken to them before, and they felt it very much. He puts the way of
+salvation so simply before them that it seems to go straight to their
+hearts."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I really think we must go and hear him. Evelyn, my dear, I don't
+think it will hurt you if you do not dress too warmly; those places are
+always so close. We will drive there and keep the windows closed, so
+that the foul air of the streets will not come in. What time shall we
+be ready, Lilla?"</p>
+
+<p>All arrangements were made, and Evelyn and I both looked forward with
+much pleasure to the following evening.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image056" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image056.jpg" alt="image056">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image057" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image057.jpg" alt="image057">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>THE MYSTERY SOLVED.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image058" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image058.jpg" alt="image058">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;MISS IRVINE'S mission-room was a bright, cheerful place,
+and was very prettily decorated for the festive occasion. Texts cut out
+in red and in white paper, and wreaths of holly and ivy ornamented the
+walls; and the long tables, covered with white cloths, were spread with
+a most beautiful repast, which was arranged as prettily and tastefully
+as if it had been set out for a wedding breakfast.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The guests had all arrived when we went in, and were sitting at the
+tables, quietly admiring all around them. Poor tired mothers, many of
+them with babies in their arms; husbands, whose faces bore marks of
+care and toil, and many of whom showed plainly that drink and sin were
+bearing them down, and ruining their health and their homes; children,
+with pinched and unchildlike faces, were all gathered round the pretty
+tea-tables, looking forward to a happy evening in their unhappy lives.
+Most of the men were in working clothes, for they possessed no other's
+in which to come; but they had all made themselves as clean and tidy as
+they could, and seemed shyly and quietly happy.</p>
+
+<p>They began to feel more at their ease when a blessing was asked, the
+tea was poured out, and we all sat down together. Then the tongues
+began to be busy and their poor, careworn faces looked glad and happy.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Moreton was there, working busily, looking after the wants of
+every one of the poor people, and talking pleasantly to them all
+the time. He was a tall man, with dark hair; and I thought him very
+handsome indeed, in spite of the slight cast in his eye of which Evelyn
+had complained so much. But it was so very slight that it was not
+at all unpleasant, and I wondered that she had considered it such a
+drawback to his face.</p>
+
+<p>He came up to us as soon as we entered the room, and seemed very
+pleased to meet Sir William and Evelyn. But we had little time for
+conversation till the work of the evening was over.</p>
+
+<p>After tea came Lord Moreton's address. It was very simple, and very
+much to the point, and I could see that the poor people felt it. He
+spoke to them of the love of Jesus, and how He was longing and yearning
+to save them; how He was following them like the shepherd after the
+lost sheep, seeking them by night, seeking them by day, seeking them in
+sickness, seeking them in health, seeking them in their sin and trouble
+and misery, ever seeking them, ever longing for them to turn round and
+let Him find them.</p>
+
+<p>And then Lord Moreton begged them to turn round to Him that very night,
+to leave drink behind, to leave sin behind, to leave shame behind, to
+turn their back on Satan and all his ways, to turn round to the Good
+Shepherd, and to say to Him, "Lord Jesus, save me."</p>
+
+<p>There were very few dry eyes when Lord Moreton had finished. He did
+not show his nervousness at all when he was speaking. I fancied that
+his hand trembled a little, but his voice was clear and steady, and he
+spoke so naturally and unaffectedly that you forgot the man altogether,
+and became engrossed only with what he was saying. There was something
+in his quiet, persuasive, pleading manner which it would require a hard
+heart to withstand. I could see that Evelyn felt it very much, though
+she made no remark upon it afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>When the poor people had left, and only the helpers remained in the
+room, we had more time for conversation. Then, for the first time, I
+saw that Lord Moreton was indeed a very nervous man. He was so shy and
+reserved when he first came up to us, that I could hardly believe he
+was the man who had spoken so easily and naturally to the poor people.</p>
+
+<p>But Sir William soon set him at ease, by telling him of our journey to
+the East, and of some of our adventures whilst we were there.</p>
+
+<p>"You met a friend of mine in Jerusalem, I think," Lord Moreton said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, you mean Mr. Stanley," said Sir William, as if he had never
+doubted, for a moment, Mr. Stanley's friendship with Lord Moreton.
+"He proved a capital guide to us; we were sorry he had to leave so
+abruptly."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, poor fellow," said Lord Moreton; "it was a very great shock to
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"What was a great shock to him?" asked Sir William. "We never heard why
+he left Jerusalem so suddenly."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, did you not?" said Lord Moreton. "He told me that he had written
+to you, and I think he was a little disappointed that he did not get
+an answer. It was on account of his father's illness. I sent him a
+telegram to tell him how dangerously ill his father was, and he left
+Jerusalem immediately he received it. But he was too late; his father
+had been dead some days when he arrived. Poor fellow, it was a terrible
+time for him!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am really very sorry," said Sir William; "I had no idea that he
+was in such trouble; it seemed strange to us, as you may imagine, his
+disappearing so suddenly, and without any reason, so far as we knew."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course it would," said Lord Moreton; "he will be very vexed
+when he finds his letter did not reach you. He is such a nice fellow;
+he is just like a brother to me. The Stanley's place is close to ours,
+so we see a great deal of each other, and of course we shall be more
+than ever together now that Howard has come into the property; for he
+will be still more at home now."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry to hear of his father's death," said Sir William again.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Lord Moreton; "and you would have felt it very much if
+you had seen his grief when he arrived, and I had to tell him that his
+father was gone; it was very sad. His mother died a few years ago, and
+there were no other children, so he and his father had been all in all
+to each other. Howard was very unwilling to go abroad this year, for he
+fancied his father was failing a little; but the old man insisted on
+his going, for Howard had a severe illness just this time last year,
+and the doctors said he would not be strong again until he had had a
+complete change. It was very sad, was it not, that it ended as it did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor fellow!" said Sir William. "Can you give me his address? I should
+like to write to him, and express my sympathy, and explain why I did
+not write before."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will give it to you at once," said Lord Moreton, as he took
+a leaf from his pocket-book, wrote the address, and handed it to Sir
+William. "Stanley is very busy now, of course, settling his affairs,
+but in a month's time I have persuaded him to go with me for a run in
+the Highlands; I am sure it will do him good."</p>
+
+<p>"In the Highlands!" said Sir William. "Then you will, of course, come
+to us on the way, both of you. And remember, we shall not be content
+with a three day's visit; you must spare us a week or ten days at
+least."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you," said Lord Moreton; "that will be very nice!"</p>
+
+<p>"I will write to Mr. Stanley about it to-morrow. Just name your own day
+when your plans are formed; we are expecting no visitors at present."</p>
+
+<p>So it was all settled, and Lord Moreton said good-bye to us, for he was
+to leave town by the early train the next day.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, papa," said Evelyn, as we drove home, "Mr. Stanley was not an
+escaped convict after all."</p>
+
+<p>"I never said he was, my dear; I always thought him a remarkably nice
+fellow; only, of course, his sudden disappearance was a little puzzling
+and somewhat mysterious. If we had only got his letter it would have
+been all right!"</p>
+
+<p>Then Sir William changed the subject, by complimenting Miss Irvine on
+the success of her entertainment, and speaking very highly of Lord
+Moreton's forcible address.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>We went back to Alliston the following week, and, to my great joy, Sir
+William proposed that I should go at once to the old Manor House at
+Branston to see Maggie. The aunts were delighted to have me, so I went
+there the day after I had received their letter. I found everything in
+the house and around it just the same as when I had left it. The same
+neatness and order and punctuality and regularity reigned everywhere,
+and the same kindly feeling pervaded the whole place.</p>
+
+<p>My dear little Maggie was on the platform to welcome me, and John
+and the comfortable horses were waiting for me at the entrance to
+the station. The sisters received me with open arms, and with tears
+in their eyes, and Miss Jane returned thanks at family prayers that
+night, "for the marvellous escapes, and wonderful preservation in the
+midst of many and great dangers, which had been vouchsafed to one of
+their number, during her residence in the land of the infidel and the
+heretic."</p>
+
+<p>I had much to tell, and they had much to hear, and the fortnight passed
+away all too quickly.</p>
+
+<p>During the second week Maggie and I went for a two days' visit to the
+Parsonage at Acton. Miss Richards was very anxious to see us again,
+and wrote me a very touching letter, saying, that if we would not mind
+spending a quiet day or two with her she would feel it a real kindness,
+and it would be a great cheer and comfort to her. She did not think her
+time on earth would be very long, she said; the doctor had told her
+that she might linger for a few months, but that she was suffering from
+a complaint which must end in death.</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"So he says, my dear," wrote the good old lady; "but I would rather
+say, it must end in life—life in His presence, where alone is fulness
+of joy."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>We found Miss Richards very much altered, weak and ill, and fearfully
+thin; yet still able to go about a little, to look after her
+housekeeping, and to sit in her easy chair in the garden, with her work
+or her book.</p>
+
+<p>We had many quiet, happy talks together, and I felt it a great
+privilege to be speaking to one who was, as it were, close on the
+threshold of heaven itself.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ellis was very much aged, and looked careworn and depressed. He was
+exceedingly kind to us; but he seemed as if a heavy weight were resting
+on him, which he could not shake off.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst we were at Acton, Maggie and I went and peeped through the
+gate of our old home. It looked just the same; it was not altered at
+all. The rabbits were nibbling the grass on the lawn, the stream was
+trickling peacefully along, and every bush, and tree, and flower-bed
+looked just as they had done on that memorable day when I had sat by my
+bedroom window with Claude's unanswered letter in my hand.</p>
+
+<p>But the home was no longer ours, and even as we looked at it little
+children's faces appeared at the window of my old room and reminded me
+of this.</p>
+
+<p>I thought of Miss Irvine's words as I turned away: "What a comfort that
+there is one home where there will be no parting, and no going away."</p>
+
+<p>That evening, after Maggie was in bed, Miss Richards called me into her
+room, and spoke to me about Claude.</p>
+
+<p>"May, dear, you remember our last talk together before you went away,"
+she said; "you were indeed right, and I was wrong. I would not have you
+Claude's wife now for the world. You had, indeed, a very happy escape."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I told you we met them in Jerusalem, Miss Richards."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and they are still abroad, spending what money they have. It will
+all be gone soon, and then they will be obliged to return home, and the
+crash will come."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean, Miss Richards?" I asked. "I thought they were very
+rich."</p>
+
+<p>"So we thought, my dear, and so they thought; but Alice's money has
+proved a mere bubble. Her father has speculated a great deal, and the
+whole of her money has gone now, every penny of it. They did not know
+that when you saw them in Jerusalem; it has come out since. And Claude,
+you know, has not very much money of his own. It would have been a nice
+little sum yearly if he had been careful. But oh, the bills, any dear!
+Scores of them are waiting for him; they send a great many here to be
+forwarded. I believe that is why he does not come home. But he must
+come, some time or other; and then his father thinks that more than
+the whole of Claude's capital will be swallowed up in order to pay his
+debts. And what will they do then, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry to hear it," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Miss Richards, "and this trouble is just crushing the life
+out of his poor father. I try to comfort him; and I tell him that I
+hope this trial will be the means, by God's blessing, of bringing
+Claude to the Saviour. But, though I tell Mr. Ellis so, my dear, I feel
+very doubtful about it, for Claude has so hardened his heart against
+all religion, and has so shut his eyes and refused to believe the
+truth, that I am very much afraid there is not much hope for him. I
+don't tell his father so; but I have great fears myself that even this
+trouble will not bring him any nearer to God."</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid his views were the same," I said, "when I met them in
+Jerusalem."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, they are even more pronounced," said Miss Richards; "and he
+has made his poor little wife almost as great a doubter as himself.
+She is a nice little thing, very affectionate and good to me; and I
+feel for her terribly in this trouble. I am afraid it will make great
+unhappiness between them. I quite dread their coming home."</p>
+
+<p>That was the last time I ever saw Miss Richards. She took a loving
+farewell of me the next morning, and we both of us knew that, when next
+we met, it would be in the land where partings are unknown.</p>
+
+<p>I heard of her death, or rather of her entrance into life, only a few
+weeks after our visit to Acton.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie's aunts were very anxious that I should spend another week with
+them, before going back to Alliston Hall; but Evelyn had written to me,
+saying that Lord Moreton and Mr. Stanley were expected on the very day
+that I had already fixed to return, and she hoped that I should not
+fail to appear, as she wanted us all to have a good talk together about
+Jerusalem and our adventures there. I told Maggie and the aunts that I
+did not like to disappoint Evelyn, but felt that as she wished it, I
+ought to go back at once. I did not say anything of my own feelings in
+the matter.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>I arrived at Alliston Hall just as Evelyn was dressing for dinner. She
+welcomed me with great joy, and told me that the visitors had arrived,
+and that I must get ready with all haste, as the gong would soon sound
+for dinner.</p>
+
+<p>When I was dressed I went into the library, thinking that I was late,
+and that every one would have assembled, but I found no one there
+except Mr. Stanley.</p>
+
+<p>I do not know how it was, but I suddenly turned very shy and nervous,
+and, after shaking hands with him, I was on the point of making an
+excuse about wanting to get my work, and by this means leaving the
+room, when he began to ask me many questions about Jerusalem, and I was
+obliged to stay.</p>
+
+<p>"So I was put down as a suspicious character," he said, smiling, "when
+I disappeared so suddenly."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir William thought it very strange," I said; "and he began to doubt a
+little if you were what you said you were."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"And you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I knew it would be all right."</p>
+
+<p>"You did not doubt me then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not at all," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause after this, and then he said gravely, "The chisel has
+been very busy since I saw you last."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "I was very sorry to hear of it."</p>
+
+<p>"We must not be sorry," he said, gently; "for him it is great gain, and
+for me—"</p>
+
+<p>"For you?" I asked, for he seemed as if he did not like to go on.</p>
+
+<p>"For me, it is a hard bit of discipline; the Master Builder's tools
+have cut very deep, but it is all right. I ought not to be sorry, ought
+I?"</p>
+
+<p>"I see what you mean," I said; "but are we not told to be 'sorrowful,
+yet always rejoicing?' Don't you think it is a comfort that the two are
+put together?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, thoughtfully, "I see; He does not blame us for
+being sorry, so long as we sorrow not as others which have no hope.
+'Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing;' thank you so much for the thought."</p>
+
+<p>I fancied that he had a tear in his eye as he spoke, but I could not be
+sure, for a minute afterwards Sir William entered the room, and then he
+seemed as cheerful and full of spirits as he had always been whilst we
+were travelling together.</p>
+
+<p>"So you never got my letter!" he said, to Sir William. "I am very
+sorry; but I gave it to a dragoman whom I knew pretty well, and whom I
+met at the Jaffa Gate. He was not a Jerusalem dragoman, but one who had
+come with some people from Cairo, and he promised me to deliver it at
+once. He must either have forgotten it, or, Arab-like, he conveniently
+lost it, but took care not to lose the 'baksheesh' I gave him at the
+same time. Well, it does not signify now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," said Sir William, "of course not; only that fellow deserves to
+hear of it again! But how was it they knew nothing of your telegram at
+the Convent?"</p>
+
+<p>"I met the man in the street bringing it, just after I left you,
+Miss Lindsay. He knew me by sight, and handed it to me at once, and
+then I just hurried back to the Convent and told them I must leave
+that morning; but I had neither time nor inclination to enter into
+particulars with them."</p>
+
+<p>When the gentlemen came into the drawing-room after dinner, Mr. Stanley
+brought out a number of splendid photographs of Jerusalem and its
+neighbourhood which he had bought in London, and had brought with him
+to show us.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William was engrossed for some time in an interesting debate which
+he had just found in the "Times" newspaper; but Evelyn explained the
+Jerusalem photographs to Lord Moreton, and Mr. Stanley sat by me and
+pointed out the different places that we had visited together.</p>
+
+<p>There was one beautiful view taken from the Mount of Olives, just at
+the turn of the hill where we had stood to look down upon Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>We looked at this photograph a long time; I thought it more beautiful
+than any of the others. Jerusalem stood out clear and bright in the
+sunshine, each house, each mosque, each dome was standing out before
+us almost as distinctly as we had seen it on that lovely evening when,
+like our Lord and Master, we had beheld the city and wept over it.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never look at that photograph," said Mr. Stanley, "without
+thinking of those words: 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep
+which I had lost.' Do you remember who said them to me there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said; "that was a very pleasant ride."</p>
+
+<p>"Are the olive-leaves safe yet?" he asked, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," I said; "did you think I would lose them?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I did not think so; but I wanted you to tell me, that was all."</p>
+
+<p>How much there was to talk of during those few days, and how many times
+we said the words, "Do you remember?" I have heard it said that when
+we use those three words it is a proof that we are talking to friends
+and not to strangers. To strangers we can never say, "Do you remember?"
+But to friends, to those who have gone side by side with us along any
+part of the pathway of life, how often we say to them, "Do you remember
+this?" "Do you remember that?" And how pleasant it is to recall first
+one thing and then another in the past, and to talk it over together!</p>
+
+<p>I think this will be one of the pleasures of heaven. We shall often
+there, I think, use those three words, "Do you remember?" as we go over
+together in memory all the way that the Lord our God has led us, and as
+we recall the many proofs of His love, His goodness, and His wisdom,
+that we enjoyed together on earth.</p>
+
+<p>It was the last evening of Lord Moreton's and Mr. Stanley's visit; the
+next day they were to leave us for the North.</p>
+
+<p>We were wandering about the lovely gardens of Alliston Hall, gathering
+fresh flowers for Evelyn's sitting-room, for I would never let any one
+else arrange the flowers there.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Moreton was very anxious to see a new and very rare shrub that Sir
+William had had planted at the other side of the gardens, and Evelyn
+went to show it to him.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley and I stopped behind, for he complained of feeling tired,
+and I had not finished gathering my flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so sorry we are going to-morrow," he said.</p>
+
+<p>I did not answer him, but bent over the bed to gather a beautiful white
+lily of the valley.</p>
+
+<p>"But I shall not disappear so suddenly and mysteriously this time," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, that is a comfort," I said, involuntarily, and then felt very
+angry with myself for having said it.</p>
+
+<p>"Why is it a comfort?" he asked. "Was my leaving Jerusalem any trouble
+to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said; "of course I was sorry. I did not like Sir William to
+doubt you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad you trusted me through it all," he said.</p>
+
+<p>I was gathering some more lilies, so I did not look up till he spoke
+again, and then he only asked me a question, and I do not remember that
+I ever answered it:</p>
+
+<p>"Will you trust me through life, May?" he said.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image059" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image059.jpg" alt="image059">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image060" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image060.jpg" alt="image060">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>WAS I RIGHT?</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<div class="container">
+<figure id="image061" style="max-width: 8.8em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image061.jpg" alt="image061">
+</figure> 
+<p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;WE often speak of "learning by contrast;" and, surely,
+some of our most forcible lessons, those which we never forget, are
+learnt in this way.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I had been about three months in my new home, and I had always felt
+that it was the happiest place on earth, and yet, although I thanked
+God for giving it to me, every morning and evening, when I said my
+prayers, still I do not think I ever realised how happy, how peaceful,
+how blessed it was, until that Monday night.</p>
+
+<p>For Monday morning's post had brought me a letter, written in
+pencil and almost illegible. I did not recognise the writing, and
+therefore glanced to the end, and I was very much surprised to see the
+signature—Alice Ellis.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, the letter was from Claude's wife. It was a very short one. I
+turned to the beginning, and read as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"MY DEAR MRS. STANLEY,<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I want to ask a great favour of you. Will you come and see me, as soon
+as you can after you get this letter? I want very much to speak to you;
+there is something that I want to ask you.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I am very ill, so please forgive this untidy note, for I am writing it
+in bed. Do come at once, if you can.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Please forgive me for asking you.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">"Believe me, dear Mrs. Stanley,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Very sincerely yours,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 18em;">"ALICE ELLIS."</span><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image062" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image062.jpg" alt="image062"></figure>
+<p class="t4">
+<b>A SAD ERRAND.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>We do not live very far from London; it is only about an hour's
+journey, so I went by the next train. I wondered very much why Alice
+had sent for me, and what she wanted to ask me.</p>
+
+<p>When I arrived in London I took a cab to the address she had given
+me on the letter. The cabman drove for about a mile through a dirty
+and dismal part of the great city, and then he stopped before a high
+dismal house, in the midst of a row of high dismal houses, which was
+confronted, on the opposite side of the street, by another row of
+houses just as high and just as dismal.</p>
+
+<p>I dismissed the cabman and rang the bell. The door was opened by an
+untidy servant, with no cap or collar on, but wearing a very dirty,
+ragged apron. She showed me into a room the windows of which looked out
+into the narrow street, and asked me to sit down whilst she went to
+tell "the folks upstairs" that I had come.</p>
+
+<p>The room was shabbily furnished, and smelt strongly of tobacco, and
+the atmosphere was close and stifling, as if the windows had not been
+opened for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>Was it possible that Claude and Alice were living here, or had I made
+a mistake in the address? I referred to the letter in my pocket, and
+found I was correct as to the name of the street and the number of the
+house, and, certainly, the girl who had admitted me had said that Mrs.
+Ellis lived there.</p>
+
+<p>But oh, how forlorn and dreary everything looked! I was quite glad when
+a slipshod footstep was heard on the stairs, and a sullen-looking girl,
+of about fourteen years old, came in, and asked me to come upstairs
+to "missus." She took me into a bedroom at the very top of that high
+house, and there, lying in bed and looking fearfully ill, I found
+Claude's wife, Alice.</p>
+
+<p>She welcomed me very warmly, and thanked me, again and again, for
+coming so soon; but I could hardly hear what she said, for her baby,
+who was lying on the bed beside her, was crying so loudly, and her
+every effort to pacify him was in vain.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane, you can take baby into the next room," she said to the girl; "he
+is so fretful! Does not he look ill?" she added, turning to me.</p>
+
+<p>I took the child in my arms; he was dreadfully thin, and had a
+careworn, wasted face, more like that of an old man than of a baby
+three months old.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little fellow!" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, with a sigh; "I almost wish sometimes that he would
+die."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mrs. Ellis," I exclaimed; "you don't mean that."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes I do," she said, bitterly; "I had rather that he died before I do.
+Take him into the next room, Jane!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl took the child from me and went away, leaving the door open
+behind her.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind shutting the door?" said Mrs. Ellis. "She always will
+have it open. And then I can talk to you comfortably; we shall feel
+quite safe. I have been wishing to see you for more than a week," she
+went on; "ever since I knew that I was so ill. Oh, Mrs. Stanley, I am
+so utterly miserable."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry to find you so ill," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I am very ill, and I shall never be well again. The
+doctor says I am in a rapid decline. It is trouble which has brought it
+on; you will have heard what trouble we have had."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Richards told me something about it, when I was with her, a few
+months before she died," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, all my money has gone; every farthing of it. My father made some
+mistake about it, and the investments failed, and we lost it all. And
+Claude is so angry about it; he says my father has deceived him, and
+he is just as vexed as if it were my fault; he has not seemed to care
+for me a bit since then. But I did not mean to speak of that. I don't
+want to complain. It is natural, I suppose, that he should be vexed. He
+thought we were rich, and we went on spending a quantity of money, and
+then, when this came out, all the people sent in their bills, and now
+all Claude's money has gone too. I don't know what will become of us!"</p>
+
+<p>"And you look so ill," I said; "you ought to be taken care of, Mrs.
+Ellis."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said, "I don't mind so much for myself; it is poor little
+baby that makes me so unhappy. He cries so much, and that girl is so
+very careless with him. Old Mr. Ellis is very kind; he wants me to go
+there, but Claude won't hear of it: I don't know why. We could not live
+at all if it were not for Claude's father; he is always sending him
+money."</p>
+
+<p>"But could you not be moved into a more comfortable lodging than this?"
+I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid not. It is very dirty and untidy; but you see they are good
+in one way, they do not hurry us about paying them, so it seems a pity
+to move. But I did not send for you to tell you all our troubles, Mrs.
+Stanley," she said; "I wanted you, if you could, to help me to get a
+little comfort."</p>
+
+<p>"In what way?" I asked, for I wanted to hear what she would say.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember a conversation we had together when I stayed at
+Alliston Hall, Mrs. Stanley? I told you then that I always tried to
+laugh trouble away, and you said—do you remember what you said?"</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You said that there were some troubles that could not be laughed away.
+Those troubles have come to me now; I can't laugh now, Mrs. Stanley.
+But I wonder if you remember what else you said that day; you told me
+that you never tried to laugh troubles away, but you always prayed them
+away. Oh, if I could only do that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe in prayer, Mrs. Ellis?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do," she said, earnestly; "I do now. I used to laugh at it when
+Claude laughed at it, and I used to try to think it was all nonsense.
+But the other day the doctor was here, and I said,—</p>
+
+<p>"'Doctor, please tell me the truth; shall I ever get well again?'</p>
+
+<p>"And the doctor said, 'I am afraid not, Mrs. Ellis.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then I asked him how long he thought I should live, and he said
+'perhaps a month or two.'</p>
+
+<p>"And then he went away. I told Claude what the doctor had said, but he
+answered: 'Oh, nonsense, that doctor is a fool, don't believe him; you
+have nothing the matter with you; you will be all right when the warm
+weather comes.'</p>
+
+<p>"And then Claude went out, and he did not come home till past midnight;
+he is always out till quite late every night. I do not know where he
+goes; he never will tell me, and he is always so tired and cross when
+he comes in. Well, that night I lay awake thinking the whole time, and
+oh, Mrs. Stanley, I was so frightened. I knew the doctor was right, I
+felt that I had not long to live, and then I asked myself,—</p>
+
+<p>"'Where am I going?'</p>
+
+<p>"I must be going somewhere. Oh, Mrs. Stanley, I felt that night, and I
+feel now, that the Bible is true; my own heart tells me so. I cannot
+doubt, now that I am dying. I made up my mind that night that I would
+send for you, but since then I have been putting it off. I was afraid
+you would not like to come, we have seen so little of each other; but
+then, yesterday, I thought I would just write and tell you, for there
+is no one else I can think of who would be able to help me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad you have sent for me," I said, taking her thin hand in
+mine; "and now, what was it you wanted to ask me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to tell me very simply," she said, "how to be saved; tell
+me what I must do to get rid of my sin—oh, Mrs. Stanley, I have been so
+very wicked, what must I do? I will do anything I can, if I only know
+what it is."</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing to do," I said, "nothing at all; if you feel your
+sin, and long to get rid of it, there is nothing to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to do!" she, said, incredulously. "Oh yes, Mrs. Stanley, there
+must be something to do!"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I said, decidedly, "there is nothing to do; but there is
+something to take!"</p>
+
+<p>"Something to take!" she repeated, in somewhat of her old manner. "I
+suppose you mean that I am to take salvation; but that is so very
+indefinite, Mrs. Stanley. I know all those set phrases so well; but
+they mean nothing to me. What is salvation, and how am I to take it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are quite right," I said, "have nothing to do with set phrases;
+they are hollow and worthless. You have to deal, not with dead words
+but with a living Saviour, Mrs. Ellis. It is the Lord Jesus whom I want
+you to take—as your own Saviour. I want you to take Him as the One who
+can alone save you from the guilt and power of your sin, and who can
+alone give you the right to enter heaven. He comes to you, and He says:</p>
+
+<p>"'Take Me, take My love as your own; look upon Me as the One who has
+died to save you, and then you need not fear.'</p>
+
+<p>"You understand how it is that He is able to save you, Mrs. Ellis, that
+He has been punished instead of you; that your sins have been laid on
+Him, and that He has suffered the penalty that your sins deserved!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," she said, "I know all that with my head; I know it
+theoretically, but I want to be able to put it into practice. How am I
+to be quite sure that Jesus has done that for me; how am I to know that
+He has taken my sin away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because God's Word tells you so," I said; and I took my Bible from my
+pocket and read:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our
+iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His
+stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have
+turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on Him the
+iniquity of us all.'"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Then what is there left for me to do?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Only to accept the Lord Jesus as your Saviour," I said. "Go to Him and
+say to Him,—</p>
+
+<p>"'Lord Jesus, I do thank Thee for bearing my sins; I trust myself to
+Thee to be saved. I want to be forgiven through Thy death, and because
+Thou hast been punished in my place.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"That is all!" I answered. "You cannot do more. One of my husband's
+tenants was in great trouble a few months ago; he was not at all a
+rich man, and he had got into some rather serious difficulties with a
+neighbour of his. My husband heard of it, and when he had been told
+the whole story, he felt that the man was to be pitied. The poor wife
+came and pleaded with tears in her eyes that he would help them, so my
+husband went to the trial to see what could be done. The sentence was
+pronounced—the man was to pay £20, or failing that, he was to go to
+prison. The poor man could not have paid even £5, for he was very badly
+off, so he was quite prepared to be led off to prison. But at that
+moment my husband stepped forward, and laid down the £20. What was left
+for the man to do? Nothing, but to come forward and to say with tears
+in his eyes,—</p>
+
+<p>"'Mr. Stanley, I thank you kindly, sir; I shall never forget it as long
+as I live!'"</p>
+
+<p>"I see," she said; "I see it all now; and is that just what I have to
+do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," I said; "you must go to the Lord Jesus and say,—</p>
+
+<p>"'Lord, I have nothing with which to pay. I am a great sinner, and
+owe a great debt, but Thou hast paid it all; I look upon Thee as my
+Saviour, and I shall never forget it as long as I live.'</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite touching to see that poor man's love for my husband now;
+he tries in every way he can to show his gratitude."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," she said; "and we love Him because He first loved us. Oh, Mrs.
+Stanley, thank you so much!"</p>
+
+<p>I did not leave the house until I had reason to believe that Alice
+had indeed taken the Lord Jesus as her own Saviour, nor until she
+could tell me with a smile on her thin, wasted face, "I am not utterly
+miserable now, for I have a sure hope for the future; He has forgiven
+me."</p>
+
+<p>I did not see Claude once, though I was with Alice for several hours.
+Perhaps he purposely kept out of sight, and, I must confess, I was
+glad, under the circumstances, not to meet him, for I felt very angry
+with him for his heartless neglect of his poor little wife.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>I returned home by the evening train, and then came the contrast. My
+husband was at the station to meet me, and we drove back together to
+our happy home. On the way I told Howard of my visit to Alice, and of
+the conversation I had had with her.</p>
+
+<p>He was very much interested in all I told him, and when we had talked
+it over for a little time, he said: "I have a letter for you in my
+pocket, May, which came by the evening post, and I think I have been
+very good not to open it, for I am most anxious to hear the news
+contained in it."</p>
+
+<p>The letter was from Evelyn Trafford. I took it from him and opened it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Howard," I exclaimed, as I glanced at the contents, "I am so very
+glad!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and so am I," he said; "I know what it is about. There was a
+letter for me from Charlie by the same post. He has been staying at
+Alliston Hall for a week, and it seems to be quite settled now. How
+nice it will be for you to have your friend Evelyn so near. Carrington
+Hall is only five miles from us; you will be able to meet as often as
+you like."</p>
+
+<p>"Evelyn is so very happy," I said, as I handed him the letter, "and she
+seems to have quite forgotten that she said she would never marry any
+one who squinted; I have no doubt now that she would agree with me,
+that in spite of it, Lord Moreton is a very handsome man."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad it is so nicely arranged," said my husband. "More than
+one good thing came out of our journey to Palestine, little wife! Do
+you remember that it was my conversation with Miss Trafford near the
+Damascus Gate which first made her look more favourably upon poor
+Charlie—the 'stupid, uninteresting man!' she called him then."</p>
+
+<p>As he said this we turned in at the gate, and drove through the
+shrubbery to the house.</p>
+
+<p>How beautiful everything looked that evening! The rhododendrons, the
+lilacs, and the laburnums were in bloom, and the evening sunshine was
+streaming across the distant hills, and casting a golden light over
+everything.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a contrast, Howard!" I said, as we stood together at the
+window that evening.</p>
+
+<p>"A contrast to what?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"A contrast to the wretched lodging I have been in to-day. I always
+felt that mine was the happiest home in the world, but I feel it more
+than ever to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you really happy, little wife?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Happy! Oh, Howard," I answered, "what a question! You know, surely,
+you know how very happy I am!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are not more happy than I am, May," he said; "I little thought
+when I met you first on the roof, at Brindisi, what bright days were in
+store for me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Howard," I said, after a pause, "just think if that wretched
+lodging that I saw to-day had been my home! And it might have been!"</p>
+
+<p>He knew what I meant, for I had told him of Claude's letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "it might have been, if you had not resisted the
+temptation put before you that day, and gained a victory over yourself.
+But you are not sorry now, May, that you decided as you did; you think
+you were right, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Right! Oh, Howard," I said, "I feel as if I could never be thankful
+enough that I chose as I did; God has been very good to me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, little wife," he said, "the Lord never overlooks or forgets any
+self-denial for His name's sake. You chose His love, His favour, His
+smile, in preference to an earthly affection; you chose to forsake an
+earthly love for His sake, and He did not forget it. I am sure those
+words of our Lord's are true, May:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or
+father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands' (in short, anything
+dear to his heart), for My sake, but he shall receive an hundredfold
+in this present time;' or, as another Gospel has it, 'manifold more in
+this present time.'"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"I have indeed received the hundredfold, Howard," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"And then that is not the end," he said, "for, after all, the second
+part of the promise makes the first part sink into insignificance.</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'And, in the world to come, life everlasting.'<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, May, there is a brighter home in prospect. Earth's homes, the
+dearest and best, are only for a time—Heaven's homes are for an
+eternity. I came across a verse to-day, which I thought very beautiful:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+"'What joys are lost, what promises are given,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;As through this death-struck world we roam<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Awhile we think that Home is Heaven,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;At last we find that HEAVEN is HOME.'"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"And we shall be together there, Howard," I said, "with no fear of
+separation."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thank God!" he answered. "This bright little earthly home is
+to us a faint foreshadowing of our heavenly home, where we shall be
+together with the Lord."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said, "a happy, earthly home now, in this present time, and a
+brighter, more glorious home awaiting me above, to be mine throughout
+eternity. Was I not indeed right in my choice?"</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t4">
+———————————————————————————————————————<br>
+Pardon &amp; Sons, Printers, Paternoster Row, and Wine Office Court, E.C.<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75393 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #75393 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75393)